The Ambassador part 1
#1 of The Ambassador
This is a two-part story about a trained warrior and diplomat and his war griffin. Social commentary and hurry/human sexuality transpire here.
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THE AMBASSADOR, part 1.
Like most professions, training for Elite Ambassadorship takes years from a person's life. The amount of aggression, the rigorous discipline and stamina could easily fit any young men willing to ride on a Gryphon and wield a sword. The art of combat, as dreary as this term sounds, truly was a primitive sort. And I do regret to say that I loved it. Every second of combat.
They were not taught arrogance, the Ambassadors. They were not given superiority over others, common folk or the wealthy nobles, the Kings or Counts. They were no better than anyone else in the World; but simply mere men and women with jobs to do.
Encouraged to live humbly, to be passive was our life, and their lives were their profession.
Yes, they had jobs to do. We all did, and I performed just as well as all the other warriors, and I lived as miserably as them as well.
Yet, the manner of work in which they partook gave absolutely no room for existence outside in the World, it was not for the strong of heart, or the free-spirited and wide-minded. We reveled in the absence of excess and the nihility of love-less relationships.
As an assassin, no emotion or sympathy could linger within the minds, for this would spell utter disaster. In politics, those of noble soul and independence could never work alongside those Kings, their Princes, or the Viscounts ruling their manors. In clerical practices, fear of death and suffering would destroy any mind venturing to help those in need.
We were allowed to love - of course no one could nor would nor should infringe upon this - to care, to do any of those normal things people do. Marry our lovers, raise families and be charitable. But none of us did; it was not our nature and was not part of our psychology.
Battle, however, was something anyone could do, everyone with the physical prowess and skills could accomplish. Any zealous youth, any boy with enough strength and foolish determination could rise up on the Griffons with sword in hand, archery on their backs, and claim to be a warrior. One could conquer obstacles, win the hearts of the entire country's populace and defend not only himself, but the land and the Monarchy.
This truly was the spirit of these types of folk, and a few of the Ambassadors considered the fact that maybe... maybe it was honorable to be nothing more than a soldier, a tool of the royals. Was I guilty of this feeling? Absolutely not; I could never be proud of being a warrior or a doctor, the occasional murderer. No, I was guilty of something far worse, or... perhaps it was better than pride. Less Evil.
Our universe was a controlled one. There were absolute standards, and no morals were relative. We were told this, and it was to be Us into eternity.
But truly, these boys were nothing more than buffoons wearing their armor and killing enemies. They were fodder, and could be replaced instantly, forgotten quickly. I personally gave nothing to them, and I did not want them in my Academy taking up space and being noisy.
The common folk, most of them anyway, thought the Ambassadors' weakness resided in their latent ambivalence. Perhaps, they wondered, if taking pride in their work would give them more edge, and increase their mental and physical strength, empower them, invigorate their Will. I disagree with this, for pride corrupts the truth of the matter. Pride and arrogance perverts and destroys the essence of anything, and the moment one takes pride in something, it ceases to be what it once was, and will forever be a twisted mutation, an unbearable Lie, and thus one would be forced to live in that misery, eternally.
It was unnecessary. The Elites (as the common people called us, although we referred to ourselves as Ambassadors) did their jobs well enough without those obstructions. There were no commanders to give orders, no general to answer to and no one to disobey or disappoint and afford discipline. Bothersome futilities such as these were unnecessary for people who wanted to work and give their lives to work and ruling the people in their own way.
Our Master was the World, and the Will of the people who either needed or wanted us. Our goals were to perform, not to impress or gain infamy. We focused scrupulously on our tasks and absolutely nothing more.
The Ambassadors were unloved, undesired and emotionless folk: warriors, negotiators, care-takers, medics, assassins - and lived only for their careers. We did not love and did not wish to be loved, we only wanted a purpose, and feel it was our responsibility to the outside world. Ambassadorship was the best way (and the only way, as far as I am concerned), to give our lives to the World.
With this stigma, many people did not bother with them - with us - taking their needs to other clients and potential employees; simply stated, someone besides us. Hiring an Elite Ambassador was expensive and clandestine, and failure would absolutely never occur; anything imaginable could be achieved by the Ambassadors. It depended on, of course, which Elite one hired.
Equally skilled in all of these aspects, an Ambassador always had one particular skill in which he or she excelled beyond all others. Those who took battle as their forte were called "Knights", and were the second most common used. "Surgeons" were the prime Ambassadors, the most brilliant of minds that everyone needed at all times. The Surgeons were wealthy, very wealthy, and many of them had more money and were respected more than the Nobles on whose land they lived.
But money was nothing for Ambassadors, simply a means to live comfortably and hone their skills. Forever, these trained folk would be tools of the people, and relied on forever as well, and be needed for work. The money we accumulated was meant to deprive the world of it, and decrease the amount of it in the World, in our hopes to reduce desire once more.
I was once called Knight, Knight Jared. Sometimes Jared the Knight. This condescending nonsense ceased quickly when I demanded it, of course. I am not a Knight, for this mere, disgusting phrase implied that I was better than someone, and lead others to believe I enjoyed it. It was a word, a discriminating phrase of jargon that truly meant nothing, but that others were either Knights or not-Knights.
I am nothing but an Ambassador, equally good and as bad as the rest of them. Just a microcosm, a person.
Were we truly undesired? In regards to the living and comfortable - those with lives not pertaining to our own - the Ambassadors were nothing and did not exist, yet when trouble or emergencies came along, people would seek them out of their hiding and throw all the problems into their lives. Tools, yes. And I had my share of burdens laid on me in my years working here.
The Academies, however, were desired. For being in a city with an Elite Ambassador Academy was impressive; it garnered respect to those without and power to those who had. The grounds of these schools were gorgeous to behold, and visually orgasmic (some could say, as I had the displeasure of hearing this once), and made some people jealous that they could not work there too.
Anyone could join, of course. Anyone who desired to work and to submit their lives to the World and the people would be the only ones to succeed, however. As I explained before, those foolish boys who wanted swordplay and the idiot girls who wanted to impress her father or lover would not succeed, and would be sent home harshly. I must admit though, and I am rightfully ashamed thus, that I enjoyed watching these morons' spirits shatter and fragment in incorporeal tears.
The professors and trainers who trained and taught us our skills were retired doctors and soldiers, -here- were the generals of olden days, philosophers and artists, no longer in the fray of Life and succeeding on all human levels. They had succumbed to the call of servitude, and now served their students and the preservation of the World itself. An Ambassador absorbed this data, and devoted their lives to this philosophy, and absorbed all that their trainers could bestow upon them.
But the main attraction to these places was not the gardens, towering vegetation and flowering hedge-grove, nor was it the plethora of wisdom in the library and minds of the teachers that towered above all other human knowledge. It was not the sight of the armory and the warriors training, nor was it the perfect clinic available to the populace.
It was the Griffon training. This, too, was probably my most favored aspect of being an Ambassador.
The Griffons were not only magnificent warriors and politicians themselves, but were an almost miraculous advancement in genetics. With the use of technology, coupled with Psionic energies, the perfect breed of warbeast was created. More agile, more intelligent and reliable than a horse, smaller and much more visually appealing than those oafish, hoofed beasts, these Griffons were the symbol of the Elite Ambassadors.
Demigriffons, as many called them, were trained alongside the human folk. They were taught the ways of medicine and government, history and philosophy, art and music, battling and killing.
Yet with this last notion, the "art" of combat, is where we humans the demigriffons differed. The beasts were our mounts, our vehicles in which we achieved all destinations and accomplishments, shared in our struggles and pleasures (or very few of), and very briefly gave the Ambassadors the faint feeling of flight. Being free from the ground... upon the crest of a gale and riding alongside a magnificent creature such as him...
Now, this is where my downfall came.
I was a Knight, and while not the oldest, I was recognized as both the most skilled swordsman and rider of the entire country. Not merely this school, which was a smaller Academy, but it was rumored that I was the best, and I still to this day do not understand this concept.
This Academy was situated at the edge of the kingdom, near the break in The Great Forest in a small town known as Eerveld. Whereas all adjacent cities were textile and lumber centers of the kingdom, Eerveld existed only for the Academy, and thus we were constantly berated with tourism, folks longing to see the Ambassadors and the Demigriffons in action, in training.
It never happened, I am thankful to say. It was not allowed, and it was most certainly not desired by any of us to boast our meager existences.
During my first few years I was harassed incessantly by my fellows. As if some collective stupidity had plagued them, as did a plague destroy my family and last home, I was forever doomed to fail in this profession due to my "traumatizing" experience with death.
Being a warrior and surgeon, I was not allowed to fear death or suffering. The fact that my entire family and the rest of the city - save for me and a few other people who disappeared from my life soon after - was silently destroyed by a disease was apparently far too much negative stimulus. I should be traumatized, scared of death and hurting people, of seeing someone die.
I never saw anyone die, no one in my family or my friends. I left that damned place long before the plague hit us. The fact that I did not care about any of them, or the fact they were all about to die in utter agony and misery did not affect me. The journey West, to this pathetic hole in the kingdom known as Eerveld meant nothing, and I was just looking for a place to either live or die. Either path would have been equally acceptable.
Telling this brief and condensed life tale to my professors let them know of my intentions, they could peer into my Soul and Mind and see from where I was arriving. I had left a life of nothing, of apathy, to claim another one where I at least would be of some use.
Our minds were brilliantly sharp and outstandingly cunning, yet with no device through which to work these things, we did nothing but sit and suffocate in our own minds, being a nuisance to those around us. I was perfect for the Ambassadors, I had the desire and the indifference to the outside world, to love and compassion.
I loved though, I truly did. I loved the friends I made, and I cared for them, but they could not be part of my life. Their existence - while pleasing and entertaining - did not affect me, did not affect my life. I further alienated them from myself with my prowess for the sword and archery, and for riding the demigriffons, making it look so easy and effortless. If someone become jealous of me and shunned me thus, I had no reason to ever talk to that person again.
But if they had shut me out because they feared their existence would affect the progress in my training, I could only thank them and wish them as much success as I had found. For us true Ambassadors, we always can recognize success and advancement, and our strength is to better not only ourselves, but all those around us. Everyone should be equally propelled upward in skill and strength.
After those few years, I had no human friends, not even any acquaintances, for those I had once known moved onto other cities or became so absorbed in study I never saw him or her again. But this did not matter to me, for though I did enjoy having those few friends to talk to, I had something else. This was something much deeper than friendship, it was not casual. It was professional and strong, and I am told it was what gave both of us our strength as warriors.
He was my only friend now, although I did not wish to call him such, for I feared it would make him leave me and find another rider. His name was Archeas, and he was my Griffon. A rider and a Griffon, of course, were not friends, and this was not the intention. Both were tools for the World, and tools for each other. They were coworkers.
A Griffon's job was to assist in combat, to be the perfect vehicle and support, and these creatures were splendid negotiators, ridiculously intelligent, and in my opinion, very beautiful animals. I envied them.
Yes, I, an Ambassador felt envy for a creature that most other Elites looked at as simply a device for travel and combat. I envied a tool, nothing more. At first, of what I thought was vile envy, I was jealous of the Griffons' personality. These beings seemed designed for this sort of weary and tiresome life. They shone with no radiance, no emotions or smiles of delight. They were the perfect students, the perfect Life servants.
I want to say that they were happy as such, happy with their lives and their work, but this was not happiness or even their being content. Happiness and being carefree was not in their attitude, nor was it in mine or any other Ambassador. Yet, they did this with such ease and indifference, it made me think I should be ashamed of my primitive human brain.
When I first saw Archeas, I wanted to ride him, wanted to practice on him as much as I could. I am not too sure what it was at first. I did enjoy his coloring, a very rich, pale blue for his feline parts (the legs and tail) and bright violet for his wings, toning down along his head, and a beak of dull grey. This could have been what attracted me to him. Or it could have been the fact that he was the only Griffon that I ever saw to smile and appear natural doing such.
My first impression was that he was not an unfeeling machine like the other Griffons, or many of the Ambassadors. Archeas, my favorite Griffon, was the only sort that seemed to be "happy" with his life of no consequence, being used as a tool for the people.
I wanted to try him out, to see how well he could manage with me riding atop his back, with the harnesses and grips the Academy taught us to use. Because he seemed to be enjoying all of this, the galloping and torturous strain upon all of his muscles (partly because of the leather harness), I assumed he was the Griffon's equivalent of the Ambassador's headstrong idiot child, soon to be kicked out for not having the nihility in his heart needed to be an Elite Ambassador.
Archeas was a marvelous ride, though, and he seemed to have responded instinctually to my touch and words, needing very little explaining on my part as to what we were doing. I remember, vividly, the first time I rode him in the training grounds with the other "Knights", how he seemed to be teasing and taunting me, which I did not understand as to why he would attempt such a preposterous thing. We trained each other, and slowly learned each other's motions, felt the next sequences of moves and actions, practicing balance and coordination.
This was the basic Griffon training.
He was my first, and I had this strange desire to make sure he was my only partner. I wanted to train with this Griffon only, and I even told him after our first session, "Maybe we should practice with each other next time."
If I had suggested this to anyone else, to a Griffon or a rider, I would have not received a response, and if I had, it would have been one of total indifference. I was a bit appalled by my speech, though, and I was ready to be embarrassed by letting emotions show.
But Archeas, still quite willing to surprise me, said, "That would be terrific, I'll see you next practice." And he gave a very unusual countenance. It was not quite a smile, but looked feigned, and the kind of bleak grin or smirk, something a boisterous doofus would apply to his face. It was a sign of pleasantry, though, and I did very much enjoy seeing it. As an Ambassador, and with my swordsman training excelling quite rapidly, I had to preserve my reputation and hide my excitement.
Griffons and humans did not train together in medicine or politics, only battle, for their sort of practices other than combat were very different, given their shape, size and mental facilities. Thus, the only times I could ever see Archeas was on the training grounds, and for the first two years of training, we were not allowed to venture outside of the Academy paired with a ride.
These two years is when I established myself as the most advanced swordsman the Academy had ever seen for its entire existence. I felt a blade in my hand and it was natural, I took to it like most people take to a pencil and write poetry or songs, or an artist with his paints to his canvas. It was easy for me to wield it, and I sought out the few teachers that I felt had the best to offer.
This continued to alienate me, for now I was the best swordsman, who always used the same Griffon for practices and insisted on uses archaic sword techniques and adamantly did not associate with his fellows, but always found conversation time with his Griffon even during practice, and in those times, the two were the perfect match.
I hated that tremendously. I was not some flamboyant spectacle to be observed and have commentary, I was simply an Ambassador, a "Knight", and I did not understand why I was being holed in such a bizarre and humiliating manner. It was nonsense of course, for a learned and settled Ambassador, those who do not wish to stay at the Academy, always took a Griffon partner, one that he would use for the remainder of his life (or so this is the concept, it rarely does not work this way).
Two more years of that, dealing with the same faces for many more years and training in the same ways, and I knew this would be my life forever, and I was content with it, or so I had thought I was, and truly thought I wanted to be.
This was the time when we were allowed to take jobs, where before they did insist we do nothing but train. Most of us did not search for jobs to take, to practice our skills and see how well we truly did fare in our studies. I did not even bother, and I had no desire to; for all I cared about was training, strengthening my body and sharpening my skills as best as I could.
I suppose it was this blind determination that further drove me from the Academy, for now I was the hard-headed Knight who drove to perfection for no reason at all, simply to say he was the best swordsman, and again, this impressed a false stigma upon me, and more questions arose as to whether or not I was truly an Ambassador.
The students, those empty faces around me that spoke nothing and heard nothing in my own head, attempted to give their wisdom to the professors, being curious as to what I was doing, asking for what I was doing and what techniques I was practicing. They would not ask me, of course, for they 'knew' I would be biased and arrogant to them. They were just doing their jobs, and were upset that I was not helping them to be better Knights.
My goal was to be the best rider, to have trained with Archeas so much that we would be the perfect duo. I had a desire to help him be the best Griffon mount, and I wanted to be his best rider. It was intense, and more so than ever, I was alienated and frowned upon. Slowly, I was being ignored completely, and even the professors suggested that I forget my other training.
Everyone within the place desired to have me absent from medical training, even though I was perfectly competent and able to perform the practice, and the same held true for the governmental classes.
For six years I had been here, studying and training just as hard as all the other Ambassadors, being proficient in swordplay and mastering Griffon riding. Now was obviously the time to leave, as was suggested; however... life outside of this world I could not comprehend.
I left the Academy in a sense, as from there on I did not attend another class nor another training session, and I was lost in darkness. I left the grounds, having spoken to no one in months except for my favorite Griffon, Archeas, and though as much as I enjoyed his company, he was not on my mind right now.
Physically, my body was fearsome; I had built up my musculature as much as I could, or rather as much as I needed to, and my health was perfect. I had never been ill or been seriously injured, and I had never experienced any psychological problems. This night was when all of these things changed.
I removed myself from the buildings and ventured outside into the twilight. As I moved along the grounds, clad in my armor - ordinary metal plates that meant nothing to me - with my sword, shield and archery set harnessed to me, I could feel, see and hear nothing but my own feet moving. These items, these devices used to murder, defend and destroy, were all that I knew, and my life was defined by this. Not by the metal, but by their function: their purpose was my purpose.
I continued to walk, far past the Academy property line and towards the forest, across the grassy field were so many times I had trained on Archeas, wrestled with the beast and experienced the destructive power of his talons - which had been an accident and he felt guilty afterwards - and stepped to the water of the passing river.
In this natural setting, I could focus on something other than my life. Here I was free of the building that I lived in, free of the suffocating surroundings. This place was foreign to me; the trees and sky represented freedom and flight, and a spirit that was not completely crushed. The building, the Academy, this armor, the sword and the training, it was a leash around my twisted neck.
I had no choice in abandoning my first life, for it was soon to be taken away from me anyway, and now I had thrown my second chance away to a ridiculous notion and to a lifestyle that I knew would be impossible for me. I was a human being, not an Ambassador, I had a soul and a heart that was still warm in the center, I had emotions and I was capable of love.
Was I superior to them because of this? I wanted to think so, but I was not sure. Intelligence and dominance had nothing to do with existence, it was not a part of life, and was utterly foreign to Nature. These two devices were merely ways of separating people from each other. Those who felt Life and those dead to it. There truly were no superior people, I realize, and no inferior people. There were merely people, humans, Griffons.
The most intelligent, those physically strong and powerful, whoever had the most money and established the most terrifying reputation... these things were useless. For while some people discriminated against others for whatever reason, took advantage of other, abused tortured and hurt, loved and admired, Death did not. Death would come to all of us and it did not care about power or intelligence. We were all cyclical and conformed to Nature, regardless of 'rank' or 'importance'.
The King of this country did not matter, nor did any of my fellows or their Griffons, Archeas meant nothing to me at this moment in time, and neither did I. I was a lie to myself, and my soul was in the most torturous agony because I had denied him his own life by pretending to be something I was not.
I was not a leader, nor was I a follower, I was not master nor servant, superior to god nor inferior to the most primitive of all beings. I was merely a tortured soul, and maybe, just... perhaps if I had let my Spirit free, I would have been happy. But no, I had found it to be a weakness.
But I realized just then, that I was not weak, nor was I powerful, I was simply abused by myself and lied to all my life. I was a human, and I tried to deny it. But I was not dead! I could feel it welling up inside me, I was above them all because I was not dead inside. I could be an Ambassador, I could be a Knight or Surgeon or anything I wanted, and I could also feel with my heart and Soul and love...
I bellowed then, in mental anguish. From out of my mouth erupted a scream that burned my entire throat, and I could not contain myself. I was burning up inside, not only my Soul now - which was exploding from my chest and I could not stop it - but my skin was burning. I ripped at my armor, gripping and clawing in my fidgeting attempts to remove it.
I needed to be free of it, free of all this horror and nonsense. The armor had to come off somehow! It broke somewhere, maybe my fingers did or the strap, but the main plate fell free and I hurled it to the ground, crying out in agony again, then ripping away my greaves and gauntlets, letting them plummet through the air and to the ground.
My eyes hurt now, I could feel them stinging painfully, my jaw clenched and trembling, everything came off. I was almost naked, and prepared to remove my trousers as well, being barefoot, but then the rush stopped. After a few moments I realized I was brandishing my sword, about ready to cast it into the bottomless river and away from me forever.
Everything turned quiet then, and so brief was my epiphany, that I was unable to stand, thus I collapsed. My knees sunk into the ground, then my hips fell, then I sat motionless, staring.
I was being forced to come to terms with my humanity, that I had sought comfort in a lifestyle that was separated from the living and separated from Nature. I had gradually and forcefully suffocated myself because of my own fears and insecurities, and some idiot sense of shame I felt for having a heart. When my family was about to be killed... I left them all to die and did not say goodbye to them.
It was my guilt for doing such a thing... perhaps. I did not recognize the pattern of thoughts. This, as much as the sky and river were, was foreign to my brain. Never before had I questioned my own existence and life so closely, so harshly. There was no way to grip onto the ideas twirling around me, and that darkness that had taken over seemed to just make it worse. It was as if the words were spinning around my head so fast, so incredibly fast, I could never reach them to understand. I only wanted them to stop!
But I had no reason to take them, for the words were nothing but objectionable mathematics, and were germs to the human Heart. Exhaustively trying to equate my emotions with words was idiotic, and I knew very well that I was best off letting my emotions flow freely. Thus I let them.
I heard something moving behind me, a perfect distraction, but I could not concentrate on anything except the inundating and pulsating weight on my head and shoulders. All my thoughts and paranoia were showering down on my all at once. There was surely something or someone in my vicinity, yet it was separated from me, and truly did not matter right now.
Sound was easy to separate, but physical sensation was not. I felt the soft touch on my naked back, and in my delayed reaction, I imagined myself being executed by one of the true Ambassadors. I was going to be decapitated, and I honestly felt it was commendable. I was suffering, and in their nature it was best to ease it. But I turned when no attack transpired, and I saw Archeas seated behind me, having touched me with his beak. It was odd, and I first thought I was either dreaming or hallucinating. The Griffon appeared to be in some kind of discomfort, for he was frowning.
He stared at me, not smiling as he usually did in my presence, and I imagined I saw hate in his eyes. He saw me for my true self now. I was no longer the great swordsman of the country, no longer the perfect Knight to have as a rider. I only looked at him for a brief moment, and in my rightful humility I turned and cast my eyes back to the water, the sword having fallen to the dirty ground.
I did not accept the consequences of my actions, as they came onto me so suddenly, and I was completely unprepared for the ramifications that would inevitably ensue. Archeas did not need to hear what I had to say, for he undoubtedly could feel my emotions, and he knew very well how I was feeling. Maybe he would understand, think that I might be stressed out or worried or on drugs... but no, he was a Griffon, too intelligent and empathetic, psionic, far ahead of me in evolution, and knew what was happening.
I knew he would not remain with me and that he should return to the school or venture on his own, or do whatever else in life he wanted. As an Elite, I was a failure, and a waste of time for everyone.
But I felt him move closer, felt his chest brush up against my back. Archeas moved his head around mine and draped it over my shoulder, gently touching the side of my face with his, likewise wrapping one of his clawed hands around my body, and effectively holding onto me.
The feeling, the sensation of this creature hugging me so close was more than I can bear. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, my heart region, and my pulse elevated quite drastically. My limbs tingled, in great amounts though; my arms and legs and head, they all tingled and almost felt like they were going numb.
Archeas breathed slowly, and I could feel each intake on me, his furred body pressed against me, the feathers of his shoulders tickling my skin, and the rough texture of his hand. He was so very warm, too, and all of these things added up to something inside of my body. Something that I honestly could not explain.
It was as if the Griffon were taking all of those thoughts orbiting my confused brain, all the weight of the universe descending downward onto me, taking them onto himself, or at least taking part of it. He surely must have, for in only several moments I was feeling it lift, and reality was returning, crawling, agonizingly slow.
Archeas did not say a word to me, and after about five or twenty minutes, I am not sure, he was still there, holding me with his head and hand, embracing me, and keeping me warm, keeping me sane. I did not want anything else in the world right then, for everything seemed to make sense, and for a brief moment I felt the most terrible and awesome thing that I could imagine.
For only a second, I was happy with life.
Being numb and still miserable at my position in existence, it was difficult to move, but Archeas truly did help me, his mere presence was the best thing that I could imagine right now, and I did not wish to ever depart from him again.
My legs were numb from the obstructed blood vessels though, and I needed to move, so I fidgeted a big and repositioned myself to sitting cross-legged. Archeas fitted himself to hold me again, and he lifted his hands upward to touch me, but stopped in midair, and stared at his claws. This, I did not see nor understand, and I did not see the look of disappointment on his face - a visage of terror that lasted only a few moments - when he realized his hands could not touch me softly or warmly.
He simply held on again, though, with one hand, and moving his head to my other shoulder, now bringing down his wings to touch me, hoping that they would be comforting in their loose embrace. I did appreciate it, and feeling him against me was ... splendid. I reached up with a hand, carefully finding his neck, and stroked him softly saying,
"Thank you, Archeas." His face moved, I could feel the fleshy parts around his bill change as he smiled and spoke,
"I'm your Griffon, Jared. It's why I'm here."
It took another year or so to understand what he meant by that. Also, it wasn't until about a year after my breakdown in the river when I decided to depart from the Academy. I was already gone, of course, several years before this, for I was invisible to the other fellows, having moved to the farthest building of the grounds and lived by myself with Archeas occasionally visiting me.
After the initial estrangement of being the oddest Ambassador had faded, I was offered a career in teaching, as I was doing very little in the way of jobs. I declined with the excuse that I was leaving the country and going to be solo in my Ambassadorship. Being the "greatest swordsman to have lived in the country", they were actually disappointed I had never once gave example of my techniques. I did not care about them anymore than they cared about me; they wanted advancement, they could easily find the second greatest to fill the qualifications.
I did not tell them about my realization, how I had accepted my fate as a normal human, and not a soulless worker like all the others, but I did tell Archeas. I had not come to terms with myself, but I was ready to admit that I was not the sort of person anyone would wish to hire for a job that required a sword.
I told Archeas everything he needed to know about me, and I did this as a favor to him so he could know the kind of rider he had sworn himself to, and I told him of my intentions and journey. I had a journey in mind which had no destination or arrival point, and I made this clear to him.
Archeas made it perfectly clear that he had every intention of following me and remaining my Griffon. The notion was a shock to me. While I had not expected him to be disgusted and curse me to Hell, I did expect him to show disappointment, like the combat professor had when I declined his offer, and to leave me with nothing more than a polite farewell.
Albeit, Archeas was not thrilled with the idea, he was willing to follow and although I asked quite plainly, "do you DESIRE to do this?" he did not answer specifically, simply stating that he would follow me anywhere I went, but showed no enthusiasm for it. I accepted this proposal, for it was a very typical attitude for a Griffon of his age.
As soon as I took the first step outside of the Academy with Archeas by my side, I felt a humongous relief, as if a bulk of the infesting darkness had been dropped away from the school. I was glad to be gone from the place that had let me brainwash myself, and I ventured West.
'to be continued.