Creating a thorough, safe plan can take a lot of time, but there are always shortcuts. Strategies for war can be a bit tricky, especially with such unpredictable foes, any attack can be a gamble. That’s why having a powerful soothsayer can change everything.

Around a polished wooden table, Crimsons announced possible ideas of attack. Their king remained silent, trying to absorb as much as possible. Some promoted the idea of launching an all-out attack on the fort. Others argued about casualties and promoted spy work until weaknesses were discovered. That required time, a few grumbled, and they were running out of it.

In the center of the room was the lone soothsayer, holding his powerful sphere in his talons, waiting for his king’s command.

Mila held his hand up for silence, the Crimsons turned to their admirable king, ending their arguments. He shifted his focus to the soothsayer, giving him the nod of approval.

“Oshwa, we turn to you for guidance. We know that seeing the future is hard, but you must try.”

He nodded to his human king. “I’ll try.” Pulling his sleeves back, he began to rub his talons across the sphere. As he did his job, everyone relaxed.

Mila daydreamed about victorious battles. Him and his griffin partner swooping into battle. They were an unstoppable duo, mastering light and lance.

Minutes passed as Oshwa continued to automatically rub his talons across the sphere, creating no noise. At times his breath was sharp and short, his facial feathers fluffed up. What could he possibly be seeing?

They would all learn soon enough.

“Sir, do you fear about what he might be seeing?” the fresh general Coyasko inquired, leaning towards his king.

“No, whatever he is seeing, we will be able to avoid. If it is positive, we should just follow his advice.” He bowed his head, sitting straight.

Mila looked back to the soothsayer, his body rigid, brow furrowed. His wings were pulled close to his sides. He had yet to decipher Oshwa’s alien body language.

They continued to wait, silent, a little bored, and tired. It would all be worth it momentarily.

Over the course of the afternoon, Oshwa seemed to be experiencing frightening events. His breathing was on and off, his body swaying. Most were bored, but Mila remained fascinated. The longer the vision the more details.

Everyone else was incredibly impatient with him. Some were beginning to fidget, but many remained still, awaiting the soothsayer’s return to reality.

Oshwa gasped, eyes wide open. He fell onto one knee, dropping the delicate sphere. Luckily, it was unharmed from the fall. A few stood, hurrying around the table to make sure Oshwa was all right.

“I’m okay, I promise. Just . . . startled, ya’ know?”

“I assume you had a vision?”

“Yes, sir.” Oshwa stood, towering above the humans around him. “It is a bit . . . bizarre though.”

Mila straightened, perhaps what he saw was not related to the battle strategy. What could possible take so long other than a battle?

“What did you see?”

“Honestly,” he ran his talons through his feathers, “I doubt you would believe me.”

Everyone stared at him, puzzled; what was he implying? Mila cleared his throat. “Oshwa, please just tell us.”

“Sir, it is quite embarrassing.”

“Oshwa,” Mila grumbled, “please.”

“It was about the um . . . the fairy tale prophecy.”

The Crimsons released a groan, rolling their eyes. Even Mila released a sigh of disappointment, not this nonsense again. It was a child’s story to inspire others to join the war.

“Oshwa, don’t tell me you’re serious. It’s a stupid story,” Mila rubbed at his temples. “This is a serious meeting and some fantasies shouldn’t be mentioned here.”

“But, sir—”

“Enough. Do you have anything related to the attack we are planning?”

“N—no, sir. I saw the chosen ones appear before me and—”

“Oshwa!” Mila barked, “focus on the task at hand. Did you see anything important or not?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“I was told to warn you, to not let your grudges take a hold of your judgement.”

He buried his face in his hands, exasperated by the nonsense. He spent so much of his delicate time for nothing. The others appeared quite furious as well; Coyasko was the only one to be fascinated by the news.

“I’m sorry, sir. I know it isn’t the news you wanted to hear.”

“I’m sorry to you all for wasting your time,” Mila began, sitting up again, “I think I’ll give everyone a few days off. Clearly the stress and training hours have taken a toll to some people's mentality.” Oshwa turned away. “Feel free to tell the others. You all are dismissed, we continue this in a few days. Oshwa, you need to stay.”

The Crimsons cleared out, some frowning at Oshwa. He remained a downward gaze, slightly afraid of being punished.

When everyone left, Mila stood. Pushing his golden chair back into place, Mila approached the trembling soothsayer, hands behind his back. The posture any king would have. “Oshwa . . . don’t let this upset you. Your title is in no danger. I understand that sometimes you receive inaccurate prophecies. I know I sound mad, but I’m not. I can’t begin to imagine the work and stress you receive by foreseeing the future. Please just promise me one thing.”

“What is it, sir?”

“Don't mention that nonsense around me or at a war council again. Understood?”

He remained silent for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, sir.”

“I will give you this much credit though, your advice about grudges is useful.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He waved his hand at the door, shooing Oshwa away. “Now go, I have some more work to do.”

“As you wish, milord.” He did a gentle bow, then turned and left.

When the soothsayer closed the doors behind him, Mila howled with laughter. What nonsense he spewed! Talk of fantasies and prophecies coming true? That was something: a lie. Oshwa was a storyteller, perhaps he thought reminding these high-class generals would rally their morale.

That must be it. A fairy tale being real?

No, that just isn't quite possible.