The King was quite eager to see what the chief had to say, but as they began walking things were quiet for a while. Maverick assumed that the man was thinking, processing his thoughts into diplomatic speech. It was something he was trained to do, and he assumed no less of Gargoyle. Most leaders were groomed in the art of fine speech. He recalled, with curiosity, that Gargoyle had never graced these lands before, it had always been Crusade who had handled diplomacy with the Kingdom. Maverick slowed his pace ever so slightly, noting that the man seemed to be taking in the sights in earnest. A smile crossed his lips as a surge of pride swelled in his chest. His Kingdom was truly beautiful, even in the oncoming heat of Summer.
When Gargoyle did speak up, he began with the climax of his story, before giving the background information. It took the young King aback slightly, but he was almost glad for the brutal honesty of the mountain. It was a welcome relief. So, Gargoyle was no longer leader of Glaciem. Had someone else been handed the throne as he had? Or worse, had the mountain somehow been defeated? Question asked, and answered. Gargoyle had been overthrown. How painful that must have been to admit. An ear laid back in alarm as green eyes glanced over the man, noting now what he'd missed before. Gargoyle's wounds were still visible, though fur was beginning to grow over them to shield them from the casual glance.
Gargoyle went on before Maverick found the words to say, mentioning that the challengers were both of Cairo's blood. A shock ran through him, icy and cold. His bottom jaw unhinged and dropped an inch. His wife was of Cairo's blood. Did she know of this? Had she hidden this from him? Gargoyle continued, though some of his words were drowned out by the thoughts rattling around in the young King's mind. The gist of it was that the pack had severed ties with the new leaders and were now a rogue band - vagabonds. They had nothing to offer alliance-wise, but would remain a friend of the Kingdom while he was King.
My father forged the bond between us, and I would be a fool to sever it even in the loss of your realm. The Snow Rogues remain a friend to Seracia, and should you need anything - shelter, healers, warriors, you need only ask and it will be given. The thought of Gargoyle leading a rouge band worried him, but the King didn't let on about this worry just yet. Glaciem was a strong pack, and they could survive anything if need be. He only hated that their young would be in danger and trepidation. The land of the rogues was an untamed wilderness. The Snow Rogues would have to be constantly and consistently vigilant to keep from losing some of their numbers. Even Seracia was not totally safe, as evidenced by Reficul's untimely death.
He found that in his talking and thinking, he had stopped altogether. The lake was only a short walk away, and so he picked up his pace once more, now finding that he needed a drink. His tongue had grown dry and leathery - perhaps partly because of the heat, but mostly in part of the news he'd just heard.
Speech,
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