Page 9 of Queen's Griffon

“What kind of muttering?”

“The superstitious kind. They’ve been talking about the Ballad of Rebirth.” A poem started after the fall of Verlora, turned into song, origin unknown.

“What’s a drinking song have to do with the queen?”

“They think it’s about her.”

Griffon stared at his first mate as the words ran through his head.

The small yet mighty tiara

Expelled from her home,

Will travel to the land of mist,

No weapon but her courage,

And the strength of her fists.

Facing the might foe,

Staring death in its face,

A sacrifice to make.

Blood to bind,

A promise to keep,

To defeat what’s now awake.

There were a few more verses, but those were the ones that most likely had people humming.

“Those are just words made up by a troubadour decades ago. It has nothing to do with her.”

“If you say so.” Kreed didn’t seem as convinced.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe in superstition.”

“Well, she is small, and everyone knows the royals in Daerva call it a tiara, not a crown.”

“And?”

“Verlora is covered in a mist. Don’t you think it’s more than a coincidence? I mean, she kind of fits the verse.”

“Really? Where then is her mighty beast?” drawled Griff.

“Standing in front of me.”

Griff blinked. “You’re bigger than me.” His only rebuttal.

“But we both know you’re tougher in a fight.”

“Are you trying to convince me to sail to Verlora?” Griff demanded.

“No.”

“Then what?”

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