[center][h1][sub][color=darkred][b][u]G O R O U[/u][/b][/color][/sub][/h1]
[h3][i][b]Leaving Greymont City[/b][/i][/h3][hr][/center]
Gorou mounted wordlessly behind Rhea, his long arms reaching around her--and his hands taking hold of the saddle horn, rather than her waist. She probably wouldn't care, or even feel it through her armor, but best not to try the patience of a woman who would now hold his very life in her hands. He checked, then double checked, then triple checked to make sure his sword was secure as the Wyvern began to trot behind the horses...then, as they passed through the castle gates and began to spread out along the Walk of Magi, Icarus's pace rose. The wings rose and fell with a languid flow, scales and muscle rippling. Then they beat faster, harder, the air thrumming under their power. Once, twice, thrice--

The dragon leaped, and they were airborne, and for a moment Gorou felt weightless. Then it felt as if Icarus had struck the ground, but no, it was only his wings giving that last, full extension before they reached true flight. They rose up, certainly not soaring above the clouds or anything that the swordsman had imagined in his head, but far enough that the streets of the city lay below them as if painted upon the world's largest canvas. The drake's wings now flapped in a steady rhythm as he circled the rest of the group down below, rising in a spiral before leveling out. Gorou's body tensed without his conscious will, as he used his core to adjust his balance and keep the nausea at bay. He swallowed to pop his ears, and the equalized pressure helped his inner ear stabilize as well. Once he had a feel for the rise and fall of Icarus's body, it wasn't that bad--not even as bad as being on the ocean.

The capital of Estala was revealed to them in all its glory--and its shadows. As they crossed the Walk into the city streets proper, the city watch lined the roads and kept the citizenry at bay. These people were simply happy to catch a glimpse of their beloved prince, and of the proud knights--and a few mercenaries--who would accompany him to rid their land of those dastardly pirates. Others, whom were only now visible to Gorou because of his newly attained height, were not so elated. Gorou's mouth dipped slightly at the corners as he watched the diversity of the city at work. Estala prided itself on the multitude of cultures that had begun to mingle within its borders; some had come because other countries were at war, others had come to seek opportunity...and some had come because they heard that Estala prided itself on its diversity, which meant it was all too eager to bend over backwards to accommodate them.

It was one thing for the old clans like Gorou's to mix and mingle with the "modern day" Estalans--[i]they[/i] were also Estalan, they just happened to still have traditions that were very old. They still followed the same laws, believed in the same interpretations of religion, spoke the same language. And in a similar way, the modern day Estalan culture was not altogether removed from the old ways--Lady Jauna's court fashions, and the styles of woven tapestry or of painted artworks, their old legends. All of these things still bore the mark of the old ways, though subdued and often re-purposed. That was one thing, for customs to change, to grow, to be used in different ways. That was simply the mark of Time.

But for Estala to throw open its arms to any and everyone was another thing entirely. Tourism, mercantilism, these things were good. Gorou didn't begrudge the few Ibionese he had seen among this gathering--they were mercenaries, and a minstrel, and they would be gone when they had done their part and earned their coin. But the Ibionese were of Ibion, not of Estala. The Anarcans were not of Estala. Cessians, Mirivans, the Laguz, none of them were Estalan. If they wanted to come from those places, and make Estala their home--and speak Estalan, and wear Estalan garments, and act like Estalans--then fine. 

But Gorou did not want them to make Estala like those other places, and if they "took pride" in their diversity too far, that was what would happen. A nation could not claim to be "multi-cultural" and still be a united people. And Gorou suspected that the immigrants also knew that.

So the corners of his mouth dipped slightly as they passed through the city, and the Laguz at their trading post cast suspicious glares all around them--strange that they would come to a place full of Beorc, if they mistrusted Beorc so, but of course Estala pitied them because they had it so hard in other places, so no doubt some of them came here because it was easy to find helping hands--and gullible ones--in Estala. And the Ibionese traders, in their bright silks and carrying many goods on the backs of their horses, spoke in the fast-paced Ibionese language that no Estalan could understand--but if you were here to trade with Estalans, why not speak Estalan, unless perhaps it was easier to exasperate a customer into buying something at an inflated price if he couldn't understand you. And so on and so forth.

But now they were out of the city, out onto the roads that began as perfectly aligned bricks, then turned to cobblestone placed wherever it would stay, then finally to gravel and dirt. Plains stretched from the city walls off into the distance, gentle hills swelling up here and there and the occasional tree breaking the line of sight. Off in the far distance, turned blue and blurry by the air between there and here, a great forest stretched on until the human eye could see no further. Beyond that would be other sights just as fine...and, further still, the ocean with its restless waves and salty breeze--and the pirates they hunted.

For the moment, the midmorning sun was warm but the air was cool, and no clouds broke the endless expanse of the sky. Gorou lost track of time simply taking in the view from atop a wyvern's back, but at some point he remembered the dame and finally spoke to her.

[@Ambra]"So...is there anything else you wish to know, that would assuage lingering doubts?" he said, trying not to raise his voice too much even though the beating of Icarus's wings made it necessary. "I assure you, there's nothing to worry about--even if you didn't have me at your complete mercy up here." He smiled a bit, to indicate that was a joke--then he remembered that of course she couldn't see him, being sat in front of him, and now he just felt awkward.