The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 169. Thoughts of All Parties Ch 169. Thoughts of All Parties

Hearing he wouldn’t be taken along, David’s griffin, Emily, was visibly upset.She clamped onto David’s arm, dragging him while flapping her wings against him.

“Hey…” David stumbled, flustered. “Stop it, Emily… come on…”

Though Emily wasn’t rough or hurting him, her mother, Angelica, swooped in, crouching low and emitting a deep, heart-shaking growl.

Reluctantly, Emily loosened her grip. Angelica seized her wing root, dragging her aside and swatting her head with a paw. Each time Emily tried to escape, Angelica’s wing gently but firmly batted her back until she curled up, sulky and subdued. Only then did Angelica saunter off.

Emily’s father, a larger white griffin, stood silently by the Great Guardian, watching without a word or movement.

Griffins grew alongside their human partners, training and fighting together. Over decades, their personalities mirrored their companions’.

Sky cavalry’s primary duty was raising their griffins. Humans died quickly, but griffins, with long lifespans, endured. Pureblood white griffins, blessed by the Silver Crown Dragon, were strong and intelligent, born with wind mana, controlling storms and lightning. Smarter than many humans, they learned multiple languages and scripts.

Yet, like other dreamless supernatural creatures, they couldn’t advance deeply in Paths. Their close bond with humans let them share Path power during advancements, growing together—a symbiotic relationship like desert humans and manticore.

“You need to discipline her, David,” Angelica said, displeased. “You spoil Emily, and it’ll form bad habits.

“When she tries to hurt you, say ‘no’ firmly. Otherwise, she’ll think you don’t care. Explain what’s allowed and what’s not, even if she’s impatient. You’re her partner—she’ll respect you.”

Beasts often play-fight for hunting practice, but proud pureblood griffins, with human-like intelligence, trained through skill, not roughhousing. Though unable to speak until adulthood, they understood language early.

Juvenile griffins, like Emily, had underdeveloped intellects, dominated by beastly instincts and playfulness, akin to young schoolchildren. They could unintentionally harm others in rough play.

At this stage, griffins were most dangerous—their innate strength could easily shred third-tier Transcendents. In the wild, parents disciplined them; now, human partners did.

“I don’t mind her biting me…” David said, softening at Emily’s pitiful, curled-up form in the corner.

As he moved to comfort her, Angelica read his intent, grabbed his collar, and tossed him upward. A gust cushioned him, and she caught him midair.

“Let’s go, Philip,” George said firmly. “113 Greentree Avenue.”

“Understood,” Philip’s steady, reliable voice replied.

Angelica’s gentle tone turned sharp. “Nadia, discipline Emily. Biting David? What’s next, eating people?”

Emily whimpered, understanding but unable to speak, pacing anxiously.

“Leave it to me,” Nadia said, nodding. “Take care of David, Angelica!”

“No problem, sister,” the white griffin replied.

A storm surged, winds howling. Griffins’ claws grasped storm threads, allowing swift flight with minimal wingbeats. In a blink, they vanished.

Seeing her mother leave, Emily nuzzled Nadia, cooing softly.

Nadia wasn’t harsh. Unlike with David, she playfully tapped Emily’s forehead.

“Acting cute now? Know you messed up? Will you do it again?”

Each question came with a light tap.

She knew Emily wouldn’t hurt David but needed a warning. Emily licked her fingers, then rolled over, exposing her belly. Even as a juvenile, she was 1.78 meters long, lion-like but purring like a kitten.

Nadia kneaded her soft belly fur, chuckling as she scratched her chin.

“Let’s eat. The Silver and Tin Hall sent fresh lamb—George saved one for you,” she said, patting Emily. “You’re growing, so eat up.”

Emily perked up, flipping to her feet and trailing Nadia.

Meanwhile, Princess Isabel, in music theory class, stared out the window, troubled by the morning’s news.

Not primarily for Aiwass—though she worried slightly, she trusted he’d return safely. Her real concern was Yulia.

Thankfully, she’d brought Yulia to the palace, sparing her from potential danger that day. Aiwass might return, but with Yulia involved, it wasn’t certain. Yulia adored her brother and seemed so fragile—she might faint hearing of his trouble.

But how long could she hide it? Keeping Yulia in the palace indefinitely would raise suspicions. She was sharp—she’d wonder why Aiwass hadn’t come for her.

What would Isabel say then?

Gazing at the azure sky, she mentally rehearsed scenarios, planning responses.

At the Silver and Tin Hall, Yulia sat quietly in Isabel’s room, reading.

Janice, nearby on the floor, sketched her with interest.

She’d planned a portrait, finding Yulia’s rare beauty—elven-standard—captivating. As a guest, Yulia might bore, so Janice let her read, drawing her profile instead. Yulia’s side profile was equally striking.

Rumors called Yulia a phantom egg, but up close, Janice saw only frail detachment, as if she existed in another world, visible only through a mirror.

It sparked inspiration. Janice, who hadn’t painted seriously in ages, decided to create a piece for Yulia.

Aiwass’s safety? She wasn’t worried.

After hearing of his disappearance, she’d searched portraits at key locations. Knowing his connections, she checked Bishop Mathers’s home and found him. Tracing leads to Lloyd Society, she spotted Meg and Tommy, piecing together Aiwass’s plan.

Meg likely wasn’t frantic over Aiwass—she was sharp, playing confused to knock the Round Table in line, using Lloyd Society as a tool.

Janice, seeing it all, planned to say nothing, maybe just reassuring Queen Sophia, who’d long taken interest in Aiwass for his deeds, name, and Isabel’s connection.

Her only concern was Yulia, whose fragile enigma eluded her.

But that wasn’t her problem. Here on an Avalon tour, she’d enjoy the show.

“Hope they don’t wreck the paintings when they fight,” Janice muttered.

Damaged portraits would cut her “live feed.”

Yulia, reading, was lost in thought.

She didn’t worry for her brother. Through a faint link with the Butterfly of Contradictory Flame, she sensed his direction.

But if Isabel was anxious, how could Yulia comfort her without ruining Aiwass’s plan?

She needed a strategy before Isabel returned.

Yulia sank into deep thought.

(Chapter End)