Chapter Text
A short walk away, back in the castle, an exhausted owl collapses on Emperor Consort Smajor’s desk, worn out from the fastest flight of its life.
Attached to its foot is a short letter – more of a note, really, scribbled on a scrap of paper. The edges are singed slightly in spots. It’s tied to the owl with a strip of fabric that looks like it was cut from someone’s robes, rather than a piece of string.
The message itself is short, only four words.
“Snow owl. Cuckoo’s nest.”
The paper reads. It’s meant for Scott’s eyes and nobody else’s. Martyn finds it instead.
It makes no difference. He was there when this code was invented – four people huddled in a corner of Rivendell’s library, a field guide on birds from Rivendell open between them, and another book open to a page of Pixandrian birds. Xornoth’s code is simple: the national bird of Rivendell for the crown prince. Scott had claimed the elf owl for himself, while Martyn had been assigned an oriole. Cleo, of course, a peasant amongst royalty and nobility, had taken the cuckoo.
He starts running.
After managing to get Jimmy to let him rest alone for a bit, Scott makes his way to his office. There’s nothing in particular he needs to get done, but he’d rather like to write a letter to Cleo – regardless of whether or not he will end up sending it – just to get his thoughts out a little.
When he gets there, however, the door is ajar still, and he opens it warily. On his desk is a bird, fast asleep. Still tied to its leg is a piece of paper. When he inspects it more closely, the ribbon it’s tied with came from the gown Cleo had worn to his wedding.
He runs out into the hallway, paper clutched in his hand, and is about to start for the barracks when he collides with someone. He reels back, intending to move on, when he registers it’s Muireadhach.
“Muir, we need to-“ he doesn’t manage to finish his sentence as Martyn cuts him off.
“I know. They’re already packing. Horses are being readied. I haven’t told anyone why just yet,” Martyn says.
He’s quiet for only a split second before he bows his head slightly to Martyn.
“Thank you, I will tell my guards. If Scar’s involved…”
“You should be the one to tell Etho. I know,” Martyn says, “Everything else should be taken care of. We leave within the hour.”
“We?” Scott asks, and Martyn takes a small step back.
“I’m not going for you,” Martyn says, and Scott softens a little at him.
“I would never forgive you if you were.”
“Same as ever, then? All sacrifice is good unless it’s for you?” he doesn’t think Martyn means to be hurtful, but Scott still reels back a little.
“Ren, right? That’s his name?”
Martyn nods. They part ways.
Scott has never known Etho to be an emotional man. Today is no different. He says nothing when Scott breaks the news, except nod at him curtly before going back to packing his bags. Scott’s about to reach out a hand to try to comfort him, when a look from Skizz sends him away instead, and he pushes no further.
Next, he makes his way up the guard towers. Jimmy had readily insisted on coming with them to Rivendell, even if Scott hadn’t been able to give him any details. So, Scott’s looking for BigB, who will be put in charge in Jimmy’s absence this time.
He finds him at the crenelations at the top of the castle’s central tower, where he’s pouring over documents Martyn had brought him on different crisis protocols in place in the Cod Empire. Scott doesn’t knock. Next to BigB is Grian, who’d evidently decided to really capitalize on the day off he’d gotten for Scott’s coronation.
“I need a favour,” is the first thing out of Scott’s mouth as he bursts in, and briefly the thought crosses his mind that his mother would’ve had his head for speaking like this, even to people who are technically his subjects.
“Anything,” BigB says without hesitation, and Scott once again understands why Jimmy speaks so fondly of him.
“We can’t take Bdubs with us to Rivendell, not this time,” Scott explains, and Grian lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“You’re trying to get a babysitter?” Grian asks, and Scott nods, still panting a little from his sprint up the stairs.
Another deep sigh from Grian as he and BigB lock eyes. A whole conversation seems to pass between them that Scott won’t even pretend to be privy to. Then, BigB nods.
“We can watch him. Don’t worry for a second, Smajor.”
“Thank you,” Scott says, bowing to the two. When he straightens back up, Grian looks bemused.
He leaves the task of telling Bdubs everything to Etho. He loves the kid – he really does – but he had been right when he’d told Jimmy he’s only around for the fun things. He has no clue how to even begin to approach news like this.
Bdubs will be fine with BigB and Grian, he knows, though it’s not much of a comfort when he knows Scar is likely in danger. He’d held both boys in their infancy – had picked them up and thrown them around as much as they wanted for as long as they’d like. He’d tried to teach them to read long before they’d gotten a tutor – had been the one to teach them to swim.
He doesn’t think he could’ve taught them how to prepare for this, even if he’s been doing it his whole life.
He’s called down by the sounds of hooves outside the main gate and runs down the stairs without ever having properly caught his breath. They’ll forego the carriages this time and will travel nearly non-stop. They end up taking horses from a random stables in the Cod Empire, so they can trade the horses for fresh ones at inns along the way. They’re packed as light as they can go.
All in all, they’re expected to make the same pace as a courier would, which would take them to Rivendell in no more than five days.
Scott doesn’t think it’ll be fast enough.
They’re out the gates within an hour of Martyn having found the owl, a party of seven racing through the Cod Empire like death itself is chasing them. It’s not far enough from the truth, even if Jimmy doesn’t know that yet.