Divine Beasts are peculiar things to behold. The uninitiated can’t even describe it beyond “magical.” I am forced by technicality to confess that, yes, they are a magical sight. That however is a misunderstanding of the term. They have in them more essence of life than any mere animal, and a human who has attained at least some enlightenment can perceive the difference of intent to their existence.

That is the essence of magic; intent.

It’s not that they glow, but rather that their fur, their skin, or feathers have more distinctness and reality to them, which makes the background seem drab by comparison. Even a creature such as Golden with wings like the night sky, the gloss of his feathers could turn the slightest glimmer of light into a shine, as though he sucked in the color from about him. When first seen, it’s quite the captivating look, and it can bewilder most people.

Personally, I find their naked displays audacious. I have a very good reason that I keep myself wrapped in my robes. When a person can only see my eyes, the effect is magnified to the point of frightening. I should not speak ill of the dead however, even if he did cheat me at cards.

“The commander of all these men is too meek to even address me?” Golden asked. Wood splintered beneath his talons as he hopped along the barge railing. He preened and fluttered his wings, like a singer clearing his throat before a performance.

My pupil put his back to his men and raised his voice. “I am Lucius von Solhart, former commander of the garrison at Puerto Faro. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with, and what brings you here?”

An unrefuted attestation is powerful, and my friend let the words ripen in the air. Then he said, “I am the emissary of the Shepherd, her will given flesh in these lands. As one half the cause of so much bloodshed last night, I ask of you, Lucius von Solhart, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“You expect me to apologize to a foreign god? These are the affairs of men.”

Men such as Tyrion nearly choked on their indignation; but, fear of the Divine Beast held them in place. Golden ruffled his feathers and fixed my pupil with his metallic yellow glare. “Is it not the business of a god when her worshippers are slain in the street?”

“They died with steel in hand. Do they not belong to the sun? I’m not familiar with any of Shepherd’s teachings that speaks of slaking grievances with blood.”

“Foolish man!” the bird shrieked and flared his wings. “Has coming so close to your demise made you soft in the head?”

Lucius crossed his arms and threw his head back. “You would talk to me like this? I am a noble of Vassermark! I am loyal to the goddess Saphira(1), not to your gravekeeper. Now look where we are. This is not the Giordanan land, but the sea!”

Soldiers clasped their hands into prayers for safety, which in truth had more weight to it than my pupil’s words. The sea goddess did have certain pets in those southern waters at the time, but I had long ago severed any ties between him and the divine. His bravado was nothing but wind in his breath.

Golden played his part well, and said back to him, “But, you will have to set foot in her land soon enough, and you will do so with empty stomachs and grasping hands.”

“What of it?” Lucius demanded. “Should we lay down and starve rather than return to our homes?”

“I think we both know the Canta boy would run you through and pile your bodies high before you starved.”

“He might try to. He would find his own grave instead.”

A good number of the auxiliaries thrust up their fists and cheered. Anyone brave enough to have remained sleeping awoke to this cry and discovered the barge’s new guest. They also saw who stood between them and the Divine Beast.

“Know this, Solhart,” Golden shouted, and put intent into his words. Water rippled out from the barge in every direction. A great force held it flat, denying the waves and the wind, but gripping the barge in stillness. “The port you are en route to is Red Spire Monastery. Should you bring harm to the scholars there, I will personally see to the empowerment of Medorosa Canta’s stigmata! Your flight will become futile. You have been warned!”

Golden then leapt off the railing, snapping the wood beneath his talons. A great flap of his wings gusted a storm across the deck and returned chop to the waters. A second pulse of his wings sent him soaring into the sky. He circled and rose higher, watching the terror play out beneath before departing to the north.

Captain Kallum fell to his knees, speaking a profound prayer of repentance in old Altish; a language so dead I have my doubts about his knowledge of what he in fact said. Portly and balding, he lacked any sign of edge that a smuggler might. Such a criminal would have been better suited for the Vassish, but what they had was but a small merchant with a desire to put more coin in the pockets of his workers. There was at least one blessing to the unplanned captain, and my pupil caught sight of it within the neck of the captain’s striped shirt.

“Calm yourself, captain,” Lucius ordered. He strode to the man and stood above him. “So long as we don’t attack the scholars, we have done no wrong by Shepherd, and thus you have done no wrong in aiding us.”

The captain’s prayer faded away. “But, Sir, I heard you myself. I know it isn’t right to eaves drop on my paying customers; but, there isn’t much by way of a wall on my ship, so I heard what you said and I knew what you meant. You know as well as I that letters of credit from a Vassish will hardly buy you one meal, let alone several hundred! What choice will you have but to take it?”

“Be at peace. That bird gave us two pieces of information. First, it is the scholars we must not harm. Second, Medorosa already has a stigmata. We will find a way. Lieutenant! Come, we must speak again,” Lucius said, and waved Tyrion over to the aft of the ship.

The wind there sucked their voices away from the crew and soldiers; as close to a wall as could be managed. Still, he kept his voice down from thereon. “You fought alongside the Canta caravan at least once, didn’t you?”

“Aye, sir,” Tyrion said.

“Did you know he had a stigmata?”

“No, sir.”

“Then we should be worried. If the stigmata were trivial, he would have mentioned it. If it were strong, he would have sold himself to us. If he hid it, then it is profoundly strong.”

The older man scratched his beard and nodded. His gaze focused on the distant blot on the horizon that was Puerto Faro. “I never thought much of him in a fight. He struck me as a coward; one who always clung to his friends around him. I swear that once I saw him faint in the middle of combat. If we weren’t beset by savages with no sense of strategy beyond bloodlust, he would have been slain.”

“Bloodlust.”

“Aye, sir,” Tyrion said. “You would have to see it yourself to understand. Someone who never went to the southern continent wouldn’t understand; but, they don’t have gods down there in the sand… only demons. Just to survive with what scant food and water there is, they slaughter one another in sacrifice to their idols, and they pay with their minds. The survivors of this sacrilege don’t see friend from foe; only blood.”

“They don’t sound like a match for our soldiers. A rabble will always break across a shield formation.”

The lieutenant backed out a laugh. “Would you say the same to a Skaldish giant? To a hammer knight who can break a knight’s arm and armor both? These wastelanders have more strength than a horse, and they only stop fighting when there are enough corpses for each to carry one back and beg succor of their demons.”

“Arrows then.”

“Aye, arrows did the trick… when we had enough sight of them to react in time. The king’s rocks cost many a life. We turned rivers red down there. I pray to the goddess that those stones were worth the price.”

“Pray to her that we get back to Lord Raymi first.”

Lieutenant Tyrion nodded. “So do we press on to the next town? If we are to avoid these monks?”

Lucius leaned on the railing of the barge and scanned the coastline. “We aren’t moving fast enough to do that. This first night put distance between us and Medorosa only because they had to sleep. Today, they will either catch up by horse, or will buy off a ship captain. Either will overtake this barge. We would be butchered trying to set into a port. Red Spire is the only place we can disembark safely.”

“But, we cannot assault the scholars!”

“We won’t have to,” Lucius said. He grinned and turned back to the army he led. Rumors kept the men awake for the moment, but they would be rested before arrival. “The Medini family has supplies for the taking in Red Spire. Merchants aren’t scholars, now are they?”

Lieutenant Tyrion found his own grin as well, for pillaging an enemy’s supplies was far different than a civilian’s life. “No, no they are not.”

(1) An earlier draft had the Goddess' name much more crudely translated as Aquaria. The more poetic attribution will henceforth be used.