Calf froze for a second, lost in thought and weighing his options for the way forward. They all came with consequences, but he would pick the one with enough upsides to warrant antagonizing Red further than they already had. He had implied the contents of the message by tying it to Goto’s previous position, which was amongst the Red Grove military chapter. Red, knowing that having the message aired out would implicate him and his allies in a plot that stood to weaken the Taurs military might; chose to bet on ending it all before the questions even started.

He caught Calf in a pincer attack by forcing him to name his source. If Calf didn’t know what he risked by mentioning the First in front of the uninitiated, he or his retainer would invite retribution in their attempt to do so. If it were the prince then the better, his demise would surely trump any bad tidings the messenger brought; but if it were the messenger, then any information the prince could relay would be put to question by its second-hand nature, even with the garbs authenticating it. It would even be better if the King interfered to prevent his son or his retainer from the attempt. Red could then use this to incite the council into calling out the King’s nepotism, which he as the offended party, would forgive in exchange for guarantees before the damning message was aired.

If Calf knew of that danger and chose to act with caution instead, his reluctance to name their source would invite even more questions from the council. As these questions piled on, they would eventually grow to outweigh whatever curiosity the greater part of the council had towards the message. This would afford him the opportunity to silence the messenger, for good; and living the prince to give a second-hand account, again. Red figured he couldn’t erase the message outright, but without living proof, no one would risk alienating the Red Grove over a dead man’s message. He would concede a few things as punishment for his participation in the matter, but it wouldn’t be anything he couldn’t bounce back from. Calf chose to sidestep all this, inviting Red to share in the risk associated with the message’s source.

“As you all know, I am yet to officially come into my title, and thus relaying such news to everyone personally wouldn’t be proper. I however wouldn’t mind relaying the message to only you as the highest-ranking general, or anyone from your line. This way, we can bet on the strength of your pedigree, and no one can question the dignity of the messenger.”

Although the lines had been delivered in an obsequious tone, no one would mistake that for subservience. They dripped with disdain, daring Red to accept Calf’s proposal. The uninitiated would have assumed Red would meet Calf halfway by agreeing to the proposal with a caveat: sending an individual from his line who was neither himself nor his heir. Those in the know would see this for what it was, a threat by force of a greater power.

If Red came forward, he would risk taking the retribution onto himself. He might survive the attempt, but at quite the cost. If he chose anyone else from his line on the other hand, he would guarantee that person’s death in the attempt. The smarter members of the council would get the hint of the source, and the others would know to drop the questions.

Red cold try wriggle out of this one, try being the operative word. If he did, he would fail, and his avoidance of the issue would be all but confirmation on the contents of the message. Red considered for a minute before nodding his agreement. He requested for one of the royal guards to fetch LongHorn, his heir. They waited for the guard’s return while being serenated by the hushed whispers of the conversations in the terraces.

Calf looked around, noting the quiet individuals in the crowd. These would be a mixture of the initiated, as well as the uninterested parties. Of the initiated, he focused on the ones making eye contact with others. These would be the ones with shared knowledge and experience. Calf categorized both the obvious and the ambiguous, memorizing the information for future use. Done with that, he brought his attention back to Red.

Although he was about to give up his heir to save his own fur, he didn’t look too bothered by the prospect. Red sensed his attention and stared back at Calf, he must have seen the question in Calf’s eye, for he answered with a menacing grin which Calf took as proof the bull cared little for his heir if it meant saving his own face.

⯁⯁⯁

The royal guard returned shortly, followed by LongHorn who cut a proud figure as he walked towards the center. LongHorn bowed his head to the King and asked for his leave to attend to his father’s summons, and the King allowed it with a nod. They removed themselves to a quiet spot and Calf knew Goto and he had been part of the father-and-son duo’s agenda. The tell was the way undisguised menace was directed towards them in the form of glare. In minutes, Calf could see the young bull’s demeanor changing from angry, to ashen, and then to angry before settling on resigned.

To Calf’s surprise, Red chose himself as the proxy for the message on the condition LongHorn could stay for the rest of the event. Murmurs could be heard from the terraces but eventually, a single representative from the council approached the King with their answer to the proposal, announcing their approval of the request once the King had nodded his own.

Red got right to it. He lumbered forward and stood in front of Calf before hunching his form towards him. Once his head was sidled with Calf’s, he whispered to Calf.

“I have brought a playmate to accompany you in my absence,” he started in a joyful tone that quickly turned cold in his next sentence. “Pray he breaks his toy before I return to take my turn!” he finished. The conviction and venom in that last statement brokered no doubts he believed what he said, and he intended to make good on that promise. Before Calf could think more on it, Red commanded him to get on with it, and Calf obliged. He supplied the River King’s moniker and left it at that, deeming it unnecessary to out his other identity as the Hunter.

Red nodded, quickly standing to his full height before lumbering away. He took his position at the center before clearing his throat to gain everyone’s attention. He threw one last glare at Calf before opening his mouth to relay the name. The moment his upper lip moved, a palpable energy gathered around the imposing bull, and he swayed once in response before stamping his foot and lowering his stance for stability. He attempted to speak for a second time, and this time the energy thickened around him to the point it was visible as a yellow haze. Red grabbed his head for a whole minute this time, and Calf knew this was due to that mysterious force that had assailed him whenever he extended his grasp towards secrets currently beyond his allowed reach. Had it been Calf, and without the River King’s aid, he wasn’t sure he could take on even half of what Red was currently enduring.

“That’s enough, General,” came a voice from the terraces. It came from a well-built centaur, one of the few who’d remained aloof whilst most of the council members murmured in hushed speculation. “This is our decision; we will select a few members from the council to hear of this source before reconvening,” he stated. From the way the centaur spoke for the whole council, he must have held quite the position. More importantly, he had to know of whom Red was trying to speak of.

Red turned to the speaker and threw him a gentle grin, staring at the man briefly before turning his head to face the floor. When he lifted his head again, his eyes shone with an even brighter light that more than communicated his intentions to carry on. He regarded all who were gathered in the hall in a single turn, leaving the King for last. To the King, he offered more than a passing glance, holding the King’s stare for a minute, before ending it in a speech.

“If knowledge is truth, then it must out at some point too. Regardless of the price, and who pays it!”

Most of those in attendance wore confused expressions, whilst a few wore alarmed ones. Calf wore a contemplative one instead, thinking of the implications of Red’s words. Taken in the current context, he could be referring to the truth of the message’s source, and the associated cost of mentioning it; but if Calf limited the target audience to only the King, then it might go even deeper than just the source. Maybe to the root of Red’s incident with the River King, or something even deeper into the King and his sworn brother’s past. With that thought in mind, he turned to watch Red, hoping the next bout of tribulation would ensure he never got to find out whatever other truths Red might be referring to.

⯁⯁⯁

Red whistled a signal to LongHorn, who obliged the call by bringing Red’s golden Axe to him. Once LongHorn was well away from his position, Red took a low stance, which Calf now knew to associate with an attempt at defying that mysterious force. He took deep initial breaths, steadily increasing the rhythm until the pauses between disappeared. The tail-end of that was a guttural roar that carried in it a fierce determination that Calf felt at the base of his being. This would be it, Red would either relay the source, or he would perish trying with all his might.

Calf’s hair stood on end, and all around him, fur straightened from the static suffusing the room. Red seemed nonplussed by this as he continued, breathing in one last time before making his final attempt. He opened his mouth to shout out the name and in that split second, a bolt of lightning materialized above him. It sent a streak towards his head and though the intensity of the light was almost blinding, Calf kept his eyes open to watch. A feather preceded the streak’s contact with Red, and just before the feather dropped below the tip of Red’s horns, his axe came up to stand in place above his head.

The tip of the streak met the golden axe’s blade, forming a path for the tribulation’s current. Red let out a fierce roar as the current wrought chaos in his body. Streaks danced in zig-zagging circles on the axe’s head, their number slowly decreasing as streak after streak flowed into Red the moment the previous streak was spent. Red’s skin cooked to match his name in seconds, before overcooking to a boiled lobster’s shade, and even darker still after a minute.

Red’s roar died down despite the continued assault of the current, and for a second Calf thought he’d lost consciousness, but Red disabused him of this notion a second later. He opened his mouth and shouted, “River King, the first of aquatic predators has sent the message!” Red had endured long enough for the thunder that had accompanied the tribulation to die down. This way, he could ensure his words were heard clearly. Once the words were said, he brought the axe down in a fierce chop that dug deep into the ground, carrying with it the rest of the dancing lightning circles that drained into the ground.

As the audience was still reeling from the display and what they’d heard, Red finally succumbed to the effects of the tribulation. He fell forward, but before he could hit the floor, the arms of the King caught his form and propped it up till LongHorn came to takeover. He turned a dirty glare at Calf before asking some of the council members for assistance. A team of medical mystics arrived shortly after to tend to the burns. They conjured a sterile film around him before checking his vitals and applying salves. Red’s pulse had started out irregular, but after a few minutes of their ministrations, it was back to being as normal as his broken body would allow, and this told them he had a chance to recover.