As the investigation of the massacre aboard the Anapol’s Memory continues, a stranger from across the seas has come to Avolon, warning them of the impending attack by an ancient warlord threatening their city. Not knowing what they face, the guard forces of Avolon prepare to defend the city, and their best chance to fight this enemy may be another enemy...

Story by  phoenixrage16
Characters by  phoenixrage16 and  avianbritish


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Chapter 1: Avolon (Pilot)

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The great hall of the palace of High Eyrie were abuzz with life and music as the highborn from the many noble houses of Avolon gathered together. Arranged among long dining tables decorated with soft white cloth bearing gold trimming, with a plethora of exotic dishes arranged artfully across its length. Between each dish stood a brass candelabra, providing light to the alluring feast that awaited the attendees. High above the gathered crowds, flying from the pillars, the flags of Avolon hung, adding their brilliant colours to the ball with the purple cross upon the white background, and at its center, the crimson crest bearing the Lo’Raven family sigil of the black wings and the golden crown.
At the far end of the room opposite the main doors, atop a marble dais, rested two ornately carved thrones of mahogany, decorated with gold and enamel along with the finest cushions for the comfort of the two who sat within them. On the right, the ruler of Avolon himself- King Christopher Lo’Raven II, dressed in his regal red attire with dark blue trousers lined with a thick red ribbon on the inside and out, and a vibrant red cloak worn about his shoulders decorated with fine white trimming.
At the side of the king, his beautiful wife and Queen of Avolon, Queen Annabelle. While her husband was of the raven species, Annabelle was a hoopoe. She had orange feathers in contrast to her husband, with a crest of feathers tipped with red forming a ridge over the top of her head. The bright colour of her feathers held her bright blue eyes stand out as she stared across the hall to the crowds gathered, hands resting against the front of her white dress. She reached out to take her husband’s hand as they watched their guests enjoy themselves, the male raven smiling back at her.
Amidst the crowd was one who was the very image of both. Bearing the black feathers, yellow eyes and a similar fashion sense to his father but sharing the red-tipped crest of his mother -as well as preferring a longer style in the coat he wore- Avogadro was easily picked among the crowd. Still, he introduced himself to the guests, shaking hands with lords and lightly pecking the extended hands of their wives and daughters, he welcomed them all to the palace of High Eyrie.
As he wandered amongst the crowd, occasionally dodging a passing servant hurriedly moving to replenish the emptied plates and wine pitchers, Avogadro eventually managed to find a clear spot where he could move freely, and there he saw a figure that caught his eye. Standing by one of the support columns of the great hall, a red and gold female avian. He would have mistaken her for a hawk if not for her vibrant colours and the long antennae-like crest she bore, staring as one before splitting in two as it arched over the top of her head. She had sharp blue eyes that bore a kind, relaxed expression as she spoke with two other guests.
Though it was not her colour or crest that made her stand out, but her attire, for it was like none other worn in that room. She wore a long, crimson dress, cut above the chest to expose the shoulders and neck-barring the left, over which she wore a sash with a plaid pattern, arranged thus so as not to hinder the wings growing from the open back of the dress.
The guest to whom she spoke, Avogadro recognized. Lord Louise Mondiale of the House of Mondiale, located in the Garden District. What stood out about him from other avians was his lack of wings -Avogadro knew this was because of Lord Louise being, like the female he spoke to, a phoenix, but of the earth element. He had dark green feathers with a brown undertone, chestnut brown eyes and bore a lean figure telling of one more accustomed to politics. He wore a long, regal blue coat, open at the front to expose a pale shirt with gold, flowery patterns beneath and a white kerchief at his neck. Black trousers and snug-fitting white calf sleeves covered his legs.
At the side of Lord Louise was a girl of identical colourations to himself -and also lacking in wings. Avogadro was aware his lordship had fathered three daughters -two of which he had met before, though this one was newer to him. She had a bored look about her face, but she wore a stunning dark blue, form-fitting dress, low cut and suspended by a thread around the back of her neck. She wore two gold manacles over her wrists, but otherwise her arms were bare.
Louise looked up as Avogadro approached, beaming brightly as he saw the Prince. “Ah, Madame Ambassador, permit me the genuine pleasure of introducing his royal highness, crown Prince Avogadro,” he said with a flamboyant tone, placing his arm around the red avian and gently turning her to face the prince.
“I have met him before, Lord Mondiale, but it is always a pleasure to see you my prince,” the red avian - Degra of the MacAingeal Clan from the MacAingeal Peninsula, said to the prince, holding out her hand to him.
Avogadro gently reached forward, taking the ambassador’s hand and lightly pecking the top of it. “The pleasure is mine, Madame Ambassador. I am pleased you could attend.”
“And allow me to also introduce, your highness,” Louise piped up once again, bringing forth the girl at his side. “My youngest daughter, Tsume. This is her first time at one of the grand balls -the silly girl prefers the woods to the splendor of your home! Can you imagine?”
Tsume respectfully lifted her gaze to meet that of Avogadro, who, without missing a beat replied to the nobleman. “Perhaps she feels more comfortable being around something more familiar?” He asked. “Your daughter looks as lush as the trees and as delicate as the flowers, yet deceivingly strong as an oak. The beauty of nature, and so too is the outdoors.”
The young earth phoenix watched him with mild astonishment as he took her hand, leaning forward slowly and pecking the top of it, before lowering it back to her side. Louise watched him at every step, and when Avogadro regained his posture, the nobleman spoke again. “Your words bear a ring of truth, your highness,” he said. “You’re right -Avolon is a beautiful island. I should be more appreciative that my daughter loves that beauty so.” He put his arm around Tsume’s shoulders.
“Begging your pardon, Lord Mondiale,” Degra spoke up. “Do you mind if I speak with the prince alone for a moment?”
“Not at all, Madame Ambassador,” the nobleman returned, bowing respectfully before excusing himself and leading his daughter away. She stared back at Avory briefly, giving him a smile before turning her eyes forward to watch where she was walking.
Degra turned to Avory, folding her hands across her belly and bowing her head to him. “I must express my deepest gratitude to you, Prince Avogadro, for repealing my son’s suspension from duty the other day. He wanted me to thank you on his behalf as well. Being allowed to return to duty was such a relief for him.”
The Prince smiled at her, bowing his head lightly in return. “Thank you for your appreciation, but please, you did not have to worry. I did not choose my position in this world, I was simply born in it. So, I feel it is my duty to use the power I have been granted for something meaningful, just as your son did that night.” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before he turned to Degra again.
“I know your son did not start that fire and there is fact to prove he didn’t,” Avory went on, affirmation in his voice. “It is a shame that our city is still so primitive and dismissing of other cultures if they cannot make money from them. This is something that I hope, one day, I will be able to correct.”
Degra smiled warmly at him. “You shall make a fine king then, young prince,” she said.
“Indeed, he shall.”
The two turned, looking up to see a figure neither recognized stepping closer to them. The being, garbed in a golden bell dress with silvery lacing around the lower hem, the end of the long sleeves and around the collar blanketed her form, with a matching headdress resting atop her head between her ears. Ink-black flowing hair, combed straight and bearing a healthy shine to them, flowed out from beneath the headdress like water flowing around a stone, laying about her shoulders and on her back.
Though this was his first time laying eyes upon her, Avogadro knew immediately who he was speaking to. “Hello! You must be the Lycanthrian Ambassador,” he said in a welcoming voice.
“I am,” the wolfess returned before she proceeded to bow courteously, gripping the seams of her dress and lifting them as she lowered her head to the prince. “Asya Boleslav at your service, my prince. I represent the honorable Tsar Dobrilo Sergeyev.”
As she rose, Avogadro and Degra both found themselves caught by her gaze, staring into those unusual, yet oddly alluring ruby red eyes of hers. They could read nothing about the woman from her expression or her gaze, yet both sensed hidden meaning behind those eyes. Avory felt a light chill creeping up his back and was thankful for the long sleeves of his coat, else the Lycanthrian Ambassador might see his feathers standing on end. Degra, however, seemed unmoved.
“A thousand apologies for my eavesdropping,” the canid woman said. “I could not help overhearing the conversation,” she turned to Degra, “or noticing that you bear a striking resemblance to an avian whom I met upon my arrival in Avolon.”
“You must have met my son then,” returned the MacAingeal ambassador. “A member of the Avolon Security Forces.”
“I did,” the wolf female replied. “If he was on suspension it is well that Prince Avogadro repealed it, for I may very well not be here today if he hadn’t. Some assassins attacked us in the city and he was instrumental in repelling them.”
Avogadro blinked at Asya, leaning forward. “A group of assassins? How terrible! Why would anyone target you?” He questioned, wearing a worried expression.
Asya shook her head. “Not I specifically, my prince,” she returned. “But Lycanthria has made many enemies, I am sorry to say. It is likely these are remnants of a kingdom we fought in the past that learned of the coming of a Lycanthrian diplomat to the city. Perhaps they sought vengeance for a past defeat. I know no more than that.”
“Oh no. I would hope that those ‘remnants’ do not cause you any more harm. But I must ask, which kingdom do you believe they were from?” He inquired. “My knowledge of Lycanthria is minimal, I confess, though I hope to correct that with your stay here.”
Asya nodded in understanding before proceeding to answer Avogadro’s question. “It is only a guess, but based upon their vulpine heritage, it is possible that they are from the city of Anapol,” she suggested. “A few years ago, before my time as an ambassador, there was a dispute between our two kingdoms. Unfortunately, it escalated into conflict.” She averted her gaze, putting a paw over her heart. “A most terrible thing, what my people did to that city. It is a small wonder that they would hate my people so.”
Avogadro took a step forward. “I do apologize for asking,” he said. “But what is written in the past cannot be changed -instead we must look to the future with forgiveness.”
Asya smiled and nodded to him. “Of course, my prince,” she said pleasantly. “Now, if you would excuse me, I believe I will sample some of that Avolonian wine. I have heard it is quite…” She trailed off, pausing mid-sentence and rolling her eyes aside. “Dear me, I seem to have lost the word I was looking for. No matter -it will come to me.” She bowed to the prince and phoenix ambassador, before turning and making her way over to the dining table where pitchers of wine lay waiting.
Degra finally spoke up after several moments of silence, leaning closer to Avogadro and speaking low to him once she felt certain Asya was out of earshot. “If I may say so, your highness,” he said, “I would keep my distance from that one.”
“Why so, Madame MacAingeal?” Avogadro inquired, turning to her.
“I consider myself to be a fair judge of character,” Degra began, “but from that woman, I can read nothing. No one is that unreadable unless they are deliberately trying to be so.” She turned her eyes to Avory, her expression stern. “It may be nothing, but I trust my instincts. Please, be cautious.”
Avogadro remained silent only for a moment before he nodded to her. “I will trust in your judgement. Thank you.”
She bowed her head respectfully to him, excusing herself and leaving his side to resume meeting the guests and enjoying the ball. Avogadro returned to doing the same, subtly making his way across the hall as he greeted more guests, stopping once to sample the hors d’oeuvres at the table.
As the evening slowly passed, Avogadro went to the thrones, approaching his parents and informing them that he was feeling light-headed from the night’s events. With his mother’s leave, he turned to make his way out. He crossed the great hall, dodging around the crowding nobles, servants and other guests until his hand was finally able to grasp the door, exiting the room and stepping out into the corridor. The sounds of the many voices became muddled as he shut the door behind him, leaving him in the comfortable silence.
With a relieved sigh, he began to make his way down the hall to his left, to make his way to his bedchamber. As he rounded the corner, he looked back towards the great hall, having seen a flicker of something bright in colour pass across his peripheral vision. But he saw no one there and continued following the corridor to his room.
In the great hall, a few nobles began to inquire the whereabouts of the prince. One of them approaching Degra, having seen her with him moments before. “Pardon me, Madame Ambassador. Did you see where Prince Avogadro went? I was hoping to introduce him to my daughter,” the nobleman asked.
“I believe he left,” she replied. “Perhaps he went to rest.”
The regally dressed avian let out a sigh. “Oh, bother,” he said. “Next time, I suppose. Good evening, madame,” he bade her before excusing himself and allowing her to return to the festivities.

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