The House of the Griffin

Chapter 1

The city of Grieves was well known for its beautiful groves of olives which were its primary source of income. Olive oil was used in the worship of Gods, in preparing food and even in beauty products. For these reasons, olives were in great demands and this made the city of Grieves rich. The family of Grieves earned their place among nobility because of their trade in olives and its oil. Over time, they developed a swordsmanship technique of their own and became known as some of the greatest swordsmen in the continent. This technique was a heavily guarded secret in the family and would only be taught to the direct descendants. To learn this technique, each contender had to complete the test set by the current Head of the House.

"You can't teach him, Avart," grumbled Lady Semola Grieves.

"And why not, my dear wife?" Lord Avart Grieves replied, still staring at the document that the commander of his troops had brought him. He was sitting in his office, papers spread over his desk. He had ordered everybody out, servants and guards alike, when his wife had arrived fuming.

"You very well know why! Even though he is known to everybody as your son, you and I both know the truth. I cannot believe that I have to remind you about your own family's traditions. Your father will curse you from the realm of death if he learns that you taught an outsider his sacred technique."

"You still think of him as an outsider. It has been 14 years since he has been living with us. I thought that by now you must have accepted him as one of your own."

"Hah! It was not I who brought him here, Avart. You showed up on that fateful day with the boy in your arms. You did not even stop to think about how I would feel. You already have a daughter, was she not enough for you?"

At this point Avart looked up at his wife with eyes filled with sorrow. "Do not ever accuse me of thinking that our daughter is not enough for me."

"Then why, Avart? Why? What made you adopt him? If you wanted another child then we could have talked about it. You did not need to bring one in from the street."

"I brought the boy because I saw something in him, Semola. The moment I picked him up, I felt something. You know this."

They had had this argument multiple times in the last 14 years. Although Lord Avart had tried multiple times to make Lady Semola see the boy as their own, she simply could not do it. How could she? She was scared for her own child, thinking that Avart would one day make him the Head of the House instead of their daughter. She was scared that the boy would steal everything.

"You still can't teach him your swordsmanship. That is the right of those that carry your blood. If you teach him the technique, then it would be a betrayal to all your ancestors and the effort they put in."

"Anybody who passes the test is worthy of learning it. That is the rule that my ancestors set...."

"To determine the worthy among their successors."

"He is my successor."

"Fria is your successor!"

"Both of them are my successors and both of them are to take the test."

"What if both of them succeed?"

"Then I will make my judgement accordingly and name one of them the next Head and the other the Vice Head."

"Why don't you make your real child the Head? I'm sure Cal would be more than happy to be the Vice Head. The Headship is Fria's by birthright."

"Of course Cal would be happy either way, but I need to be fair to both of my children. Both of them are going to take the test next week, and that is final."

Semola couldn't say anything after that. She was annoyed at her husband's behaviour, but what could she do? She wanted to wring his neck and slap some sense into him. But she couldn't do that. She loved him too much. She thought about her daughter. She knew that Fria was strong and whatever obstacle her father would put in front of her, she would overcome it. The problem was Cal. She knew that he was also more than capable of handling himself. In the last two years she had seen him train with his instructors. She knew that not only was he a fast learner, he was a prodigy in the art of the sword. She just prayed that luck be on her daughter's side on the day of the test.

                                                                                    *

Cal grew up to be a silent, well mannered boy. He had some muscle from training a lot, but not enough to hinder his flexibility. His sea green eyes were in contrast to those of his father's brown, but they attributed it to be some form of mutation. He wore his dark hair short, similar to how the soldier's wore theirs. He carried around a sword suited to his height of 5'4". He did not care much for his family except his father. His mother showed no emotion towards him and had instructed his sister to do the same. He used to wonder why, but had gotten used to it over time.

Cal sat on the roof of the training hall, staring wistfully at the flag that stood erect at the front gates. The flag carried the symbol of his family, a griffin - half eagle, half lion. It stood on its hind legs with its claws outstretched looking towards the left, wings spread behind it. He wondered how his family got that symbol. His thoughts were ruined by the arrival of his friend, Rojas, the son of the Commander of Grieves' forces.

"You chose a fine spot for rest, Cal," Rojas said as he sat down next to his friend.

"My father brought me here one time. This place was where he used to come to calm his mind."

"Leave it to Lord Grieves to think of such a place. You can see the whole city from here and the mountains behind us."

"And if you squint, you can see the glimmer of the seas."

"Yes, in the distance. So, Cal..... how are you? I mean, the test is in three days time. Are you prepared?"

"I am. As prepared as I can be."

"Did his Lordship tell you anything about the test?"

"No, he said I will come to know about it on the day itself."

"And why about your sister? Are you nervous competing against her?"

"To be honest, no. Don't get me wrong, Fria is a very competitive and skilled person. It will be hard to win against her, but it isn't as if I want to. All that I wish to do is complete the test so that I can learn our family's sword technique. I do not care about becoming the next Head. Even if I did win, I would probably ask father to reconsider."

"Think again, Cal. Just imagine all that you could do if you became the Head. All girls will be after you. You would be the richest man in the city. People would look at you with awe and wonder. Not to mention, the girls man."

"Are girls all you think about Rojas?" laughed Cal.

"I am fourteen, Cal. What else would I think about?"

"I don't know, but probably something like what would Instructor Leeway do when he finds you sitting here with me while you are supposed to be on cleaning duty."

"Aw come on Cal, why did you have to bring Uncle up?"

"Because I see him down there looking for you."

"Oh Crap! See you later, Cal!" saying this, Rojas got up and left.

Cal sat on the wooden roof for about fifteen more minutes, thinking about the test. He took out his sword and looked at it. His father had commissioned it for him when he had begun training. It had a straight blade curved at the end. It was sharpened on only one side and had a wooden hilt with a green leather grip. He had practiced with it day in and day out. He could split a hair in two with it, if he concentrated enough.

He wondered how his sister was doing. He knew that she had trained a lot too and was far more ambitious than him. She truly wanted to be the Head of the House. He took a deep breath and then sheathed his sword. He got up and jumped down from the roof and marched towards his home.