A lady escapes her captors...
A scout carries out his mission...
And a prince must depend on former enemies, loyal to a tartan-bearing warrior king, to defend him as he contemplates how to win back his own kingdom...

As the battle in Avolon rages on, four individuals from the city - a lady, a scout, a prince, and a guard soldier, may very well hold the fate of their homeland in their hands.
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Chapter 3: Hunted
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Pavan's eyes clenched as he struggled to adjust to the light beaming over him, the rays of the sun breaking his slumber and prompting him to sit up, shielding his eyes with his hand. Grains of sand fell away from his wings as he rose, and he gave himself a shake as the chill of the morning crept over him, sending grains of sand scattering about.
He blinked away the grogginess in his eyes, and started to get his bearings, taking in his surroundings. He was lying on a beach, the waves of the sea rolling over the shoreline at his feet occasionally brushing over them, and he lifted his gaze to look out to sea only to turn it away again when the morning light blinded him. Behind him was forest, a with signs of logger activity evident by tree stumps felled by tools and not by natural causes.
Suddenly, Pavan remembered where he was. He had seen the city in the night on his approach to the mainland, but he had been so exhausted that he didn't reach the city proper; the last thing he remembered, he was gliding awkwardly toward the shore, and collapsed when he hit the beach. He turned his gaze north, and there it was – closer than he had dared to hope.
Albion, the city of the cliffs. Standing at the very northern tip of one of the longest known mountain ranges in the region and built along many plateau’s overlooking the ocean -some natural, others carved out by tool, magic or elemental assistance.
From where he sat, Pavan could not see much past the outer walls, which ran along the outer edges of the plateau upon which the city rested, but over the crown-like crenellations of the wall, he could see the Duke’s Palace, resting at the highest point of the city -though it was his first time coming to Albion, the architectural similarities to High Eyrie’s brass-capped towers was unmistakable.
He had made it... against all odds, flying for an entire night blind and alone, he had found Albion.
“Over here!”
Pavan started at the sound of the voice, his hand instinctively moving to his sword, but pausing when he found the source of the voice. Four avians in uniform, wearing the royal blue tabards of Albion, hastened toward him. They were unarmed, except for sabers hanging at their belts, none of which were drawn as they surely recognized his uniform as easily as he had theirs. The one at the lead wore a decorative hat, with a horsetail crest trailing as he approached.
The leader – a red kite with an orange beak, studied Pavan carefully as he approached, seeing his black uniform and the markings on his shoulders. “An Avolon Scout!” He said in recognition, lowering himself to one knee beside Pavan. “Are you alright, son?” He asked.
“Y-Yes,” Pavan replied in a hoarse whisper, only realizing then how dry his throat was.
“Here,” the kite bade, producing a canteen from a holster on his belt and removing the stopper before offering it to Pavan.
The wind phoenix accepted it graciously, taking a long drink from the contents. He nearly choked as he hydrated himself but managed not to spill any of the water when he coughed. Returning the flask to its owner, he gave a nod to him.
“My thanks,” he said.
“You are welcome,” the kite replied. “We saw you lying on the beach from the walls. You must’ve only just awoken before we arrived. Are you hurt?”
“No… just exhausted,” replied Pavan. “I came here from Avolon, to…” He jerked as it all came back to him. “The city. It’s under attack!” He exclaimed. “Lycanthria has blockaded the island, trapping the navy inside. Their army got inside the walls somehow!”
“Did he say Lycanthria?” One of the guards asked.
“Get him up - we must take him to the captain!” The leader ordered. “Easy with him!” He added as two of the avians took Pavan by his arms and hoisted him to his feet.
“The duke… I was asked to meet with the duke,” Pavan pleaded.
“I haven’t the authority to get you an audience,” the lead stated. “But our captain will know who does. We’ll get you to her at once.”
“Please do so quickly - there may not be much time. I’ve already lost a day,” replied Pavan, rubbing his arm impatiently.
“Did you… fly, all the way across the channel?” The leader asked, looking at Pavan in disbelief.
“I did.”
“How did you make it all the way here? Most avians who take such a journey must train for years to even attempt such a thing.” One of the other guards asked.
“Let us just say I fly quite fast,” replied Pavan.
The guards exchanged curious looks as the lead asked his next question. “And who was it who sent you - your Scoutmaster? Your division captain?”
“Prince Avogadro Lo’raven, and Corporal-” Pavan paused, about to say more when the four guards halted dead in their tracks and looked at him skeptically.
“The Prince himself? He sent you?” The kite asked.
“He did. I understand it is hard to believe - I will explain everything,” Pavan promised.
Sensing the urgency in his voice, the lead did not wait long to consider his words, nodding in approval and resuming their march to the city at a faster pace. They ascended the stairs leading up to the main gate, which opened just enough to give them access, though through the gate, Pavan nearly felt as though he had stepped indoors again, were it not for the open sky above him. Through the gates was a long corridor, stretching from one end of the city to the other. High walls lined with sentries loomed to either side, many of whom Pavan could see carrying crossbows. He noted two bridges arched over the trench, one just after the gate they had entered through, another at halfway to the opposite end.
They carried on down the corridor, which the guard sergeant explained to Pavan was called the siege trench. In the event an enemy army were to breach the gates, the corridor was designed to keep that army enclosed within the trench, and rendered easy pickings for the archers or riflemen above. The bridges could then be used as a place for anti-siege equipment; oil pots and cannons would be set up upon them to whittle away the enemy forces until they abandoned the siege.
‘I kind of wish I was born here instead of Avolon. This place is way more fortified.'
Still he was frustrated by how long it was taking. He understood protocol and proper procedure – one could hardly expect to be taken before the duke upon request. But every time he considered this, he remembered that Volcan and Avory were in hiding, and his home was under siege. The thought of it made the feathers on his wings stand on end as the two limbs twitched and shifted.
He was certain the guards could feel his agitation, but none of them spoke a word about it. In time, they reached the end of the corridor, passing through one of the smaller gates within the trench to enter the city proper. They did not venture far past the inside gate before coming to a guard house, where one of the troupe stayed with Pavan while the others went out to search for their commanding officer.
The wait was long. Pavan's agitation only increased as he sat in the chair, wringing his hands and twitching his wings all the more. He eventually had to stand up and start to pace about the room anxiously.
“Must you do that?” The guard left to watch him asked, growing irritated by the Wind Phoenix's behavior.
“Yes, I must,” Pavan returned. “My best friend is holed up trying to guard the prince, my home is under attack, and all I can do is sit here and wait. I find it quite maddening.”
“Patience, scout. You shall have your hearing as soon as the captain comes back,” the guard reasoned.
But he was ignored, and Pavan continued pacing around the room to the guard's growing chagrin.
Fortunately for the guard, it did not last much longer; the door to the guardhouse opened, and in walked an avian with black-feathered features and beady eyes – a corvidae, like Avogadro, but he saw hints of blue around her chest above the collar of her tabard, which Pavan could see was well-worn, and had been stitched with the emblems of a ranking officer on the shoulders. Her blue tabard decorated with gold buttons and the hat she wore had a longer horsetail crest hanging behind her head, swaying as she walked.
The officer's eyes found his, and Pavan snapped to attention, saluting her.
“Your name, Scout?” The magpie asked, her voice firm and direct.
“Pavan Stevenson, Private 1st Class of the Avolon Scout Regiment, sir,” Pavan returned.
“Captain Lexis Rou, Albion Defense Forces Seventh Division,” the magpie introduced herself. “I'm told you bring news of Avolon. My sergeant filled me in on a few details, but I'd like to hear your side in full. Tell me what's happening?”
“I was sent here by Prince Avogadro Lo'Raven, son of King Christopher,” Pavan explained.
He saw her eyes furrow. “The Prince himself? Is he not within the protection of the King's Guard, or the palace?”
“The Palace was no longer safe,” Pavan explained. “He was hiding at Garibaldi's Rise, guarded by Corporal Volcan MacAingeal of Avolon Security Forces 1st Division.”
“A MacAingeal?” She echoed in disbelief. “Why would the prince be in the presence of one of those barbarians?”
“He is not a barbarian!” Pavan returned defensively as he shot to his feet, but at Captain Rou's glare, he quickly collected himself and saluted her. “Ma'am, I apologize. But I have already wasted too much time; I have to see the Duke immediately – I have to tell him what is happening.”
“I cannot simply walk you to the palace like that,” she stated. “Without proof of your claims, I must go through the proper channels – audiences with the Duke must be taken to the Commander, and-”
“Ma'am, time is of the essence,” Pavan dared to interrupt her. “And I have proof.” He reached into his pocket, producing the golden signet ring marked with the Prince's initial, showing it to her. “See this? The Prince handed this to me before I escaped Avolon – he said to show it to the Duke.”
The Captain's eyes widened, and she stepped closer to Pavan, leaning forward to look at the ring, studying it. She held out her hand for it, and Pavan dropped it into her palm, letting her examine it. She turned it over in her hands, as if studying it for forgery, but soon she lowered it, handing it back to Pavan before she turned away from him, a hand on her chin as she reconsidered Pavan's words.
Soon, she turned to the other guard. “I must go to the Palace and request an emergency audience with the duke. Bring him bread and water and when he has eaten, bring him there at once.”
“Yes, ma'am,” the guard returned.

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