Gracefully written by Raixsarin SolHart, thank you so much!
“What an embarrassment.”
She made her way through the crowd, heart pounding.
“He’s in there drowning himself in wine again, isn’t he? What a mess.”
She struggled to keep the hood of her cloak over her head, pushing her way through the gaggle
of onlookers outside the tavern.
“The queen would be ashamed. I’m almost thankful the king isn’t alive to see his son’s
behavior.”
Their words filled her ears, but she wasn’t about to be deterred. She had to make her way
inside. She had to protect her brother.
“Prince has really been makin’ an ass out of himself inside Felid's lately. Anytime I just want a
peaceful drink, the royal bastard just comes in and starts crying about mummy-HEY, WATCH
IT!”
In an attempt to slip through the crowd, the cloaked figure bumped into one of the spectators.
An anthropomorphic avian of sorts, his yellow eyes glared at the hooded character who had so
rudely bumped into him. The cloaked figure stumbled back some, her hood slipping from her
head, as it revealed her features. White fur covered her face, interspersed with black stripes, as
a pair of feline-like ears topped her head, her green eyes shining in the twilight that engulfed the
port city of Alia. Despite the setback, the tigress’ expression was hard and driven, as she bared
her fangs.
The avian’s eyes widened, beak parting some in surprise, upon seeing her visage. “P-princess!”
he stuttered. “F-forgive me for my rudeness, I had no idea-”
“First off, please don’t call me that.” The tigress stated, referring to her royal title. She placed the
hood of her cloak back over her head. “Second…” She nodded her head towards the entrance
of the tavern, the doorway having been blocked by the variety of spectators witnessing whatever
had been taking place within. “...is he in there?”
The avian blinked for a moment, his brain still attempting to register the fact that he had just
been so rude to the princess of all of Kapsia. “I…um…do you mean the prince, my lady?”
A soft sigh escaped the tigress’ lips, her shoulders sinking some. “I was afraid that was the
case. Thank you.” Wasting no time, the tigress turned heel towards the entrance of the tavern,
ducking through the crowd, muttering apologies as she slipped through. As she reached the
entrance, her boots tracked the mud inside, staining the green carpet that welcomed the patrons
within. It was difficult for her to see the surrounding environs, with just how many guests were
inside the tavern. What she could make out, she saw that the walls were made of oak, as
lanterns hung high towards the ceiling, illuminating the tavern with a soft glow.
“I JUST WANTED TO MAKE THEM PROUD!” A voice cut through the din of the crowd. The
tigress’ stomach balled into a knot upon hearing it. A crowd had formed around the source of
the voice, some laughing, while others shook their heads in disappointment.
“But now, they’re not even here to see me fail. Saints forbid, how has it come to this?” the voice
rang out again.
The tigress pressed on, a low growl escaping her throat, as she now actively pushed her way
through the crowd, making her way towards the front of the bar.
Sitting on a stool, a figure that appeared to be a lion with cream-colored fur hunched over the
bar. A white jacket covered his torso, a once regal-looking coat made of fine silk with a golden
trim, now stained with various faded hues of red and purple, as empty bottles of wine rolled off
the wooden counter-top, clattering to the floor. A handpaw gripped a similar bottle of wine, as an
antelope with a large tattoo that ran down their shoulder manned the bar. He gazed down at the
drunk figure, idly polishing off a glass with a clean rag.
The tigress sighed, as she looked at the clearly inebriated lion, before gazing up at the
bartender. “ Burqwaass, how much has he had tonight?”
“I lost count after four, Kishara .” The antelope shrugged. The tigress put a handpaw to her face,
as a growl of disgust and frustration rose in her throat. “Has he even paid you?” Burqwaass
shook his head. “Cut him off.” Kishara sighed. “For good, this time. And I’ll pay you back later.”
Burqwaass smiled for a moment, setting aside the newly polished glass on the counter. “Your
money is no good here, Kishara. Don’t worry about it. Besides, as much as I hate to say it,
Marius does bring in good business.” He nodded towards the crowd.
Kishara flashed a wry smile, an embarrassed blush coming to her cheeks. “Well…fair enough.
But still, please try to do what you can to cut him off in the future. He doesn’t need this right
now.” She nodded towards the multitude of empty wine bottles surrounding the prince, Marius
now starting to pick his head back up.
“I’m so sorry, mother.” he sighed. His yellow eyes were unfocused, the short mane around his
head was knotted in all sorts of ways. The fur underneath his eyes was matted and soaked with
tears. He began to lean back, starting to lose his balance as he tilted backwards, before Kishara
stepped forward, her arms wrapping around his body in an attempt to catch him, the two
stumbling back some.
“P-please, leave me. I don’t want to go back.” Marius whined, the bottle of wine in his handpaw
slipping from his fingertips, shattering as it fell to the floor.
“Marius, please, it’s me. I know you’re sad, but we can’t stay here. We’ve got to go. Now.”
Kishara urged her brother. She looked around the tavern, ears perking up as she heard the
raucous laughter that was directed at the drunken prince.
“Kishara?” Marius craned his head up, his head resting on his sister’s chest. Tears began to flow
from his eyes once more. “E-everyone else is so disappointed in me, I can’t have you see me
like this too. I don’t need more of my family to see me like this.” His voice cracked, as he closed
his eyes.
The tigress let out a soft laugh. “Come on, Marius. We’re not even related by blood, so
technically, I’m not part of your family.” Kishara sighed, before she continued. “But you and your
parents saved me when I had no one else. You’re all I’ve got left and I love you. Please, if not
for your parents, do it for me. Let’s get outta here.”
“I…I…” Marius stuttered, before he closed his eyes and sighed himself. He pulled himself up,
his black boots crunching the glass below his feet. “Okay…for you.” He stumbled back against
the counter, holding a handpaw to his face as he retched, the sheathed longsword attached to
his hip clattering against the wooden bar.
“H-hey, Burqwaass! Get him some water, please!” Kishara waved down the bartender, who had
been silently cleaning up the mess of bottles behind Marius. The antelope silently nodded,
before he reached for a glass to fill.
“Hah! What a fucking mess!” A loud voice from the crowd jeered. “Is this really the so-called
‘Pride of Bizevau?’ Bah, the prince holds his drink like his mummy holds him! Which is to
say…she doesn’t at all!” Kishara whirled her head around, her emerald eyes glaring at the
voice’s owner. A fat gray wolf grinned right back at her, his body completely shirtless, revealing
his ample gut and large arms. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted a mug of ale to his
muzzle, knocking back the foaming drink as he began to chug the brew.
“Do NOT speak to my brother that way. Prince or not, he’s clearly had enough.” Kishara warned
the wolf, as he finished guzzling down his drink. “Aye, and we’ve had enough too.” The wolf’s
pink tongue slipped out to lick over his lips, a belch escaping his throat. “Had enough of not
having a clear ruler. Royal bastard needs his sister to save his arse from drinking himself to
death, simply because mummy left him and daddy was killed and left to rot on the side of the
road!” The wolf slammed the empty mug onto the table in front of him, the sound echoing
throughout the tavern. “Serval is two steps away from having their way with our country, and it’s
all because the prince refuses to take any steps forward, unless it’s into a bottle of wine!”
Kishara opened her mouth again to speak, but was cut off as her brother stumbled past her,
drawing the blade on his hip from its home. The sound of sharpened metal leaving its scabbard
silenced the crowd, Marius brandishing the longsword in front of him. “H-how dare you…speak
of mother and father in such a way.” His words slurred, the drunken prince struggling to stand.
Kishara gasped. “Marius, no!” She stepped forward, only for Marius to hold his arm out. “Stay
out of this!” He barked back at his sister, his swordhand trembling as it grasped the bejeweled
hilt.
The wolf stared into the eyes of the prince, his blue eyes narrowing, as he spoke in a cool tone.
“Ya’ best do what the princess says, laddy.” He growled. “She deserves the title far more than
you do anyway, ya’ spineless sack of shite.” Slowly standing, the wolf padded over to the prince,
towering over the lion. “Ya’ tremblin’, little prince.” The wolf sneered. “I know you’re a few bottles
in, but I imagine ya’ never even killed before. Think you can do me in, little child?”
Marius shuddered, alcohol coursing through his system, as well as fear and anger. His legs
turned to jello, as he stumbled back, the blade falling from his hands, clattering to the floor
beneath. He once again felt the embrace of his adopted sister, once again catching him from
falling backwards. “Marius, please…” She whispered into his ear. “Please, let’s go. Enough has
been done tonight.”
The voices of the crowd began to pick up, although no one was laughing this time. If anything, it
was out of grave concern. Not for the prince, but for the future of the country. The wolf merely
stared into the eyes of the prince, never breaking his gaze, before he shook his head and sat
down in silence.
Tears once again came to his eyes, as Marius knelt down to retrieve his blade. He silently
turned, head hung in shame, putting an arm around Kishara’s shoulder. “...Alright.” A barely
audible whisper escaped his lips. Kishara nodded, as she led her brother out of the tavern, her
brother occasionally sobbing as he left.
The wolf peered into his empty mug of ale. “Bah, with the way things are going, I’m gonna need
another mug o’ ale. Or two. Or fifty, at this rate.”
* * *
Kishara sighed as she shut the door behind her, having laid her brother to slumber within his
chambers. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes for a moment, the sound of snoring
barely audible in the room behind her. “What a day…” She said to herself, before standing up,
turning to walk down the castle corridor.
Oaken panels lined the walls, hiding the thick layers of stone that made up the rest of the castle.
The halls were lined with various memorabilia and artifacts from the once-powerful ruling family.
Curved cutlasses and sabers with jeweled hilts, composite bows made of oak with golden
bowstrings and other artifacts from a time that had long passed. Paintings of royal figures that
have faded into the pages of history gazed down at Kishara as she strode down the corridor, her
back hunched over as she made her way.
As she passed a portrait at the end of the hall, she stopped, turning towards it.
Craning her head up, Kishara noticed two figures in the painting. They were standing proudly
together. One was a female lion, wearing a navy-blue uniform with a crimson-red trim, a silver
sun-like ornament hanging from the right side of her chest. Golden epaulets shone brightly, as
she carried a saber over her shoulder. A navy-blue ring with a golden thorn-like engraving
rested on her ring finger. A platinum pendant hung around her neck, a sapphire laid into the
center of the necklace. She flashed a wide smile as her features appeared confident and
maybe a little cocky, but her yellow eyes displayed experience. Standing next to her, was a
shorter male lion, in a white uniform with a golden trim, similar to what Marius was wearing
earlier. A golden piece of jewelry hung from his chest, in the shape of a sword. A stern
expression was worn on his face, as he carried a variety of maps and logistical charts
underneath his arm.
“Oh, Mother…Father…” Kishara spoke to the figures in the portrait, her eyes glistening. “You
have both done so much more for me than I could possibly repay you. Ever since you found me
on the street, you both cared for me like I was your own. I terribly miss you both and I will do my
best to repay the favor.”
She turned to the right, the golden frame of a portrait hung next to the painting she had just
been speaking to. There was no portrait set into the frame, just an empty spot where a painting
should be. Underneath, a golden placard was set into the wall that read “King Marius Bizevau”.
Kishara turned back to the painting she had just been speaking to. “Mother, father, I will do what
I can for your son. For…my brother.” A lump formed in her throat, as she truly believed in her
brother.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots clattering down the hallway behind a
wooden door, before it swung open. A silhouette appeared in the dim light of the lanterns that
hung from the walls. The silhouette appeared to turn towards Kishara before it coughed,
clearing its throat, as it stepped forward to reveal itself
The fox wore a navy-blue garb, with a crimson cape over his left shoulder. A ringed hilt of a
rapier appeared to stick out from underneath the cape. He wore a tricorn hat, with a large black
feather sticking out of the right side of the hat.
Kishara smirked, placing a hand on her hip, blinking away the tears in her eyes in an attempt to
not have her instructor see them. “You know, I get that you try to look all prim and proper,
Dathos, but you’re also as subtle as a brick through a window.”
Dathos, the fox stood still, spine rigid, as its eyes widened. “...Pfft. It’s not like I ran from one end
of the castle to the other to tell you that we have visitors.”
Kishara raised an eyebrow. “...They understand that it’s well past dusk, right?”
Dathos flashed his teeth in a smirk. “Ah, but there’s one thing I haven’t told you yet” he replied in
a cool tone, snapping his fingers. “They’re here to speak with Prince Marius.”
“Okay, well, you know he’s a bit…indisposed, at the moment.” Kishara rolled her eyes at Dathos’
gesture.
“..And they’re from Wodford.” Dathos continued in a sing-songy voice.
“Okay, so what-”
“And they’re saints.”
Kishara was silent.
She then immediately sprinted towards the door Dathos was standing in front of.
“W-WOAH, KISHARA! HOLD ON, LET ME AT LEAST-” Dathos attempted to step out of the way
of the charging tigress, only to trip over his own feet and fall onto his rear, his eyes widening as
he hit the floor, teeth gritting.
Kishara threw open the door and slammed it on the way out of the corridor, as Dathos picked
himself back up, rubbing his backside with his handpaws.
“Gahhh…that’s gonna sting tomorrow.”
* * *
Kishara’s boots echoed across the stone corridor as she sprinted towards the audience
chamber. The portraits from earlier gave way to sea-green tapestries with a silver trim. She
passed large windows that revealed the night sky outside, the twinkling lights of the city in the
distance like stars.
“Shit, the one night where Marius had to get plastered…” Kishara cursed under her breath as
she reached a large oaken double-set of doors. Throwing open the doors, she stepped into the
audience chamber.
The room was rather spacious. A glass ceiling hung above the wooden floor, the walls lined with
gas lamps that gave the chamber a warm glow. The glass ceiling extended downward towards
the rear wall, as the inky black void of the ocean lay just beyond. Wooden walls surrounding the
large window were covered in a variety of maps, displaying the topography of the continent of
Tulsa-aria.
A round table lay in the center of the room, the oaken desk having gold inlaid into the edges,
plush chairs sitting just at the edge of the table. Standing beside the table, next to a pair of
chairs, a lemur and a seagull stood, both of them turning towards Kishara’s direction as she
entered and hastily shut the door.
Both were dressed rather plainly, the lemur wearing what appeared to be a royal blue chef’s
jacket with similarly colored cloth pants. A leather satchel hung from his side. Beside him, a blue
robed seagull stood, the garb covering their body. A white piece of cloth was wrapped around
the seagull’s beak. For some reason, just looking at the seagull caused a strange air of
calmness to surround Kishara’s mind.
As Kishara approached the two, the lemur smiled at her. “Ah, wonderful evening to you,
princess.” he spoke in a soft tone. He reached into his satchel, producing a singular grain of
white rice, only to deposit it into his maw. “It is good to see you. Though, forgive the intrusive
question, will your brother be joining us?”
Kishara’s face blushed with embarrassment at the mere mention of being called a “princess”.
“Evening to you as well and I apologize deeply for the wait. Unfortunately, my brother will be
unable to join us tonight, he’s uh…he’s had a long day”
“Ah, I see.” The lemur nodded gently, before producing additional grains of rice to munch on.
“Well, please allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Sazzilin, the ‘Saint of the Streets’. My
companion is Sheraliah, the ‘Saint of Surrender’. We’ve journeyed from Wodford on…ah,
‘business’”.
Kishara nodded, as she leaned against the round table, crossing her arms. “It’s nice to meet
both of you.” she started. “Though, I will have to ask, it’s interesting to see one saint. TWO
saints however, well, forgive me for saying this…” she smiled a bit. “...that sounds more like a
miracle to me. This has to be some interesting sort of ‘business’ that you two are on”
Sazzilin laughed, his voice full of mirth. Even Sheraliah struggled to hide their face as a chuckle
rose from their throat. “Very well. Our purpose here is two-fold.” Sazzilin continued to munch on
his rice.
“First, as you may have guessed, we are here for not only you, but your brother.” Sazzilin
continued. “We understand that losing even one parent is a traumatic experience, but to lose
both, as you are no doubt aware, princess, is a pain without comparison. We wanted to be there
for the both of you and to see if we can ease any kind of pain. Even if we are from different
nations, life is the most sacred treasure of all and losing even just one life is inexcusable.”
Kishara shifted some, glancing towards the dark ocean in the distance. All too aware she was of
losing one’s family. Marius’ parents had been merciful to her, when they found her on the streets
so many years ago and took her in as one of their own. Thankfully, both Marius and his parents
were always there for her.
Now, she only had Marius left.
“It’s appreciated.” Kishara spoke softly, eyes taking in the sea beyond. “Years ago, Marius’
mother just…disappeared without a trace one day. She left with some armaments and a few
men. Said she was going to lead a patrol out near Kren. No big deal. Nothing strange, nothing
new.”
“We found out later that day that she never even made it to Slorokov. Not only that, her escort
went missing as well. Though…” Kishara chuckled. “I’m sure she was escorting her guards, not
the other way around. She was a tough one. But when Marius heard that ‘Queen Aurelia Amphritus
had disappeared’, it sent him reeling. All of his studies, his ambitions, his aspirations,
just…poof. Gone in a day.”
“His father, King MacLirth , wasn’t having any of it.” Kishara took a moment to pull up one of the
plush chairs, before sitting down. She rested her head on her fist, elbow against the table. She
signaled to the saints to please seat themselves, but Sazzilin merely shook his head. Kishara
continued. “Father was always a tad strict, while mother tended to be a bit…wild. I think I took
more after her than I did father. Mother was the lord general of the knights and knew how to
whip her men into shape and had the uncanny ability to predict what an enemy army would do
in combat. Father was some kind of gifted logistician and explorer and probably knew the
continent better than the back of his own handpaw. Together, the two of them played off each
other pretty well.”
Kishara glanced to the right, lost in thought. “But when mother disappeared, father grew colder
and more distant. Seeing his son fall to grief, he just…maybe it’s because he had been grieving
himself, but didn’t know how to process it or something, I don’t know. But he grew very abusive
towards Marius. Would constantly berate him, tell him he ‘never was good enough’ and that he
needed to ‘grow up and stop believing that mother was ever coming back’. I think I even saw
some injuries from time to time, but Marius never wanted to talk about it with me.”
Leaning back into the chair, Kishara closed her eyes. “Marius grew more distant. I did my best
to cheer him up, but with him getting all the pressure put onto him by father, all this pressure to
just…cast away his feelings for his lost mother and to work on leading, I think it…really messed
him up. That and I was getting taken into the courtyard outside more often than not for another
practice session with blades, thanks to Sir Dathos here, our resident swordsman and knight. So
I really wasn’t able to be there for Marius as much as I’d like to have been. That’s my failure….”
Kishara sat silent for a moment, before she blinked away the tears coming to her eyes. “But,
yeah. Marius went through…a lot. Abuse, stress, pressure…you name it, he got it from his
father. And then, one day, father left for Serval. Some kind of…diplomatic mission or something.
Only to get murdered on the side of the road by mercanaries.” A rueful laugh rose from
Kishara’s throat. “Mercenaries...that Serval claimed weren't their own. Yet, relations with Serval
have always been a bit tense and…being a country that has a ton of money to begin with and
mercenaries love money…” she laughed again, attempting to stifle a sob.
“Sorry, talking about it is kinda hard…” Kishara smiled once again, her eyes glistening.
The two saints had remained silent the entire time, having listened to Kishara speak. Sazzilin
finally broke the silence by nodding. “I understand…something like this is never easy to speak
about. We had no idea just how…bad things were down here.”
Kishara turned towards the ocean again. “It’s fine. Let’s get back to business.”
“Fair enough.” Sazzilin scratched the bottom of his chin. “Please understand however, this
matter is…of a far graver importance.” Sazzilin sighed. “Word of King MacLirith’s death has,
unfortunately, made waves. Especially within Lady Bethany Eg’s own Court .”
Kishara turned to face the lemur now, narrowing her eyes. “Ah, yeah, I’ve heard there’s been
some…interesting things happening within Wodford and especially in the city of Egland. Not to
insult your rulers or anything. I’m not exactly great at talking about politics.”
Sazzilin waved his hand for a moment. “‘Tis fine, and one of the major reasons that we are here
anyway. We don’t wish to see things get out of hand. Especially with the instability lately within
Serval.”
Kishara drummed her fingers on the oaken table. “Hmmm…how about this. How long do you
intend to stay within Alia?”
Sazzilin tilted his head some. “For some time. We’ve no real reason to return to Wodford with
haste.”
Kishara smiled. “Then stay the night. Tomorrow morning, provided I can drag Marius out of bed,
we’re having a meeting with all of our officers and lords. We typically meet once every couple of
weeks and, I’ll be quite honest, they are far better suited and experienced to handle this matter
than I am. We’d love to have you both sit in on the meeting and offer your insights on the
matter.”
Sazzilin smiled cheerfully. “An excellent idea. Both myself and Sheraliah will be more than
happy to attend. You don’t need to have us stay within the castle, however, we can make our
own accommodations-”
Kishara flashed her teeth in a grin. “No way, I insist. I’ll get someone to show you to one of our
guest rooms. Just…give me a moment.” Kishara stood, before slowly walking towards the oaken
doors, both of the saints watching her with confusion in their eyes, before she suddenly lunged
forward and pulled the door open.
The fox with the tricorn hat leapt back, having been listening in on the conversation the entire
time, the hat falling off of his head. Kishara reached out to grasp the cap.
“Dathos…please show our guests to their rooms. And be a little less predictable about
eavesdropping next time.” Kishara plopped the hat back onto the fox’s head.
Dathos stared at her in disbelief, before rolling his eyes. “Pfft…v-very well.”
Kishara turned towards the two saints. “Please follow our knight. Sir Dathos will lead you to your
rooms. We’ll meet in the morning.”
Both saints bowed their heads slightly. “Of course.” Sazzilin walked with Sheraliah. “And we are
grateful for the accommodations. We hope to see you and your brother there in the morning.”
“You absolutely will. Please take care and rest well.” Kishara nodded and returned to the round
table, as the two saints walked past her.
“Kishara, are you coming along to your chambers?” Dathos called out to her.
“No, I think I’ll stay here a little bit. I have some…things to attend to.” Kishara called back, her
eyes towards the ocean once again. “Please shut the door though, I’ll be on my way out shortly.”
“Understood.” As soon as the saints departed from the audience chamber, Dathos shut the door
behind them, the sound echoing through the empty chamber.
Kishara leaned back in her chair, staring out at the ocean. “...Huh.” she said to herself under her
breath. “I…have I really not talked about that…what happened to Marius…with…anyone.”
She leaned forward, cradling her head in her handpaws. “Saints forgive me, I’m a horrible
sister…”
Her eyes began to glisten again with tears.
* * *
Within the same audience chamber, Kishara had taken her seat, facing the giant window. The
sun, now high in the sky, bathed the chamber and the ocean beyond in the glow. The waves
outside sparked with sunlight, as the cry of seagulls was heard from within the chamber.
Beside Kishara, Dathos sat to her left, the fox swordsman leaning back in his chair, hat pulled
low over his eyes. Occasionally, Kishara glanced over at him, making sure he hadn’t fallen
asleep. To her right, Sazzilin idly munched on rice, with Sheraliah sitting quietly to his right,
hands resting on their lap.
Directly across from her, Marius sat. Legs crossed over one another, he rested his head on his
handpaw, looking bored, his eyes glazing over. No one sat beside Marius.
“They’re late.” he dryly remarked.
“They’ll be here any moment, relax.” Kishara responded.
“I need to get back to my chambers.” Marius looked down at the table, a listless expression in
his eyes.
“For what?” Kishara asked. “We don’t have anything else we really need to do today.”
Marius was silent, as he looked away.
The chambers were filled with the sound of the oaken doors opening behind Kishara. Everyone
in the room turned to face those who had just entered.
An otter wearing a navy-blue longcoat and matching pants strode in. His chest was bare,
revealing his powerful abs. A large pipe hung from his maw, the right eye permanently closed,
as a large red gash covered the eye. In his right webbed-handpaw, a large map was rolled to fit
within his grasp. Behind him, a blue lizard with a frilled neck followed, the reptile holding its
handclaws together, as it looked nervously around the room, wearing a black tunic with
cream-colored pants. Both the otter and the lizard took their seats at opposing sides of the
table, leaving equal distance between both Marius and Kishara.
“You’re la-” Marius started.
“Aye, but I arrive when I damn well please, prince.” The otter cut off Marius, blowing a puff of
smoke from his pipe, as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “That and I needed
to find this wee bastard anyway.” He nodded towards the lizard, who frantically looked to the left
and the right, fingerclaws flexing rapidly.
Marius opened his mouth to object, only for Kishara to cut him off now. “Okay, okay, I’m sure
General Nodenz didn’t mean any disrespect, Marius. After all, Lord Kuberan…” she glanced
towards the lizard. ”...can be a hard one to pin down from time to time.”
Marius looked annoyed, but waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Let’s get on with it.”
Kishara sighed with relief, just wanting to move forward with this herself. “Okay, great. Let’s see,
General Nodenz, can you please start us off? Please brief us on the current overall tactical
picture, regarding the issues between Serval and Kapsia as a whole.”
The otter nodded, beginning to speak, despite the mouth being filled with a pipe. “Of course, my
lady.” Nodenz placed the map on the table that he had been carrying, unfolding the large piece
of well-worn paper. Occasionally, he would point his finger at different locations on the map as
he spoke. “The surrounding forest directly outside of Alia is, of course, clear. Despite the loss of
our King, he had passed down many of his techniques to the rest of our knights. We do not lack
military strength either. Bandits and mercenaries are easily dispatched, and our legions are
strong, able and more than willing, both enlisted and officer alike”
“However…” Nodenz continued. “...That enthusiasm is a bit of a double-edged sword. Our
forces believe we need to take the fight to Serval. They believe, with all of their hearts, that we
should avenge the death of the King and-”
“P-p-please remind yourself, General…” Lord Kuberan spoke up, his voice shaky. “...that there
is no hard evidence that King MacLirth was killed by SERVAL forces, only mercenaries. We
don’t wish to fan the flames of war any harder than they already have been.”
“-And…” Nodenz glared at Kuberan for a moment, before continuing. “...some of our forces
have attempted to mutiny over it. These mutiny parties were swiftly put down with ease,
especially with the assistance of Sir Dathos and his forces.” The fox swordsman smirked in the
direction of the general, tipping his hat in his direction. The general let out a groan of disgust.
“Be that as it may, it is clear that our forces are itching for a fight. And Serval is attempting to
provoke us as well. We have had many close calls with Serval, as their mercenaries have
attempted to draw us out of Kapsian territory into Serval territory, in an attempt to break
borders..” The general sighed. “They have also shot arrows and crossbow bolts at our forces
more than once, claiming they had misfired. Thankfully, our knights have shown restraint on
acting against Serval forces, but, eventually, either petty threats will spark a conflict or one of
our lords will have had enough and fire first upon Serval forces.
“Which. Will. Mean. WAR!” Lord Kuberan added, slamming his fists onto the table. “Ohh…ow…”
the lizard whined, shaking his handclaws after the display.
“...Yes, war.” Nodenz blew out a smoke ring from his pipe. “Which, as much as I’d love to put it
to the bastards...” The general ignored the glare coming from the frilled lizard across the table.
“...Even I know restraint can prove to be the more valorous option. Tensions are already
stressed as they are. My concern, however, is that Serval will continue to provoke us or one of
our own lords will strike Serval first.”
“Worse yet, however.” Nodenz sighed wearily. “Serval isn’t the only issue at hand. We’ve
had…some interesting engagements with rogues to the north. Numerous groups of what we can
only assume were hired ruffians. A group attempted to ambush one of our legions. They were
swiftly defeated. Initially, they claimed to have been just some desperate thieves, but upon going
through their belongings, we found records stating they were being funded by sources close to
Lady Bethany Eg’s court.”
Sazzilin stopped munching on his rice. “Excuse me…General Nodenz?”
The general nodded in the direction of the saint. “Aye. Fresh face, it appears.”
Sazzilin smiled softly. “Yes, forgive me. I am Saint Sazzilin and my companion is Saint
Sheraliah.” he said, motioning towards the seagull that sat beside him. “You…mentioned that
these rogues that attempted to attack your forces appeared to be funded by sources close to
Lady Eg?”
“Aye. Based on those records, they appear to have been receiving funds for quite some time.
We attempted to…’acquire’ additional information from them, but they refused to confirm or
deny if this was the only group that had been contracted by Lady Eg herself or her court.
Furthermore, we have confirmed that they were NOT part of the Wodford army itself.”
“I see.” Sazzilin nodded sadly. “If I may speak on behalf of myself and my companion?” Kishara
and the general nodded. Marius looked off to the side, not exactly paying attention. “First of all,
as saints from Wodford, I want to start off by saying, the last thing anyone wants is war. And that
we have come down to express our regrets regarding King MacLirith’s passing.”
“His ‘murder’…” Marius muttered underneath his breath.
Sazzilin ignored Marius’ comment. “But please, I wish not to interrupt further. I have my own
words to say on the matter. Please, continue.”
The general blew a ring of smoke from his pipe. “Sazzilin…of the ‘Seven Solaces of Sazzilin’,
correct?”
Sazzilin blushed with embarrassment, before stuffing a handful of rice into his maw. “Y-yes. I am
too humble to speak of such things, but yes.”
Nodenz grinned. “King MacLirith spoke quite a lot about you. Even if our king learned much
from his wife, who was quite the hellion in her time, he did appreciate your ways. He had hoped
to obtain peace through strength. Believed if our knights were strong enough, we could live up
to your ideals.”
“W-well…” Sazzilin glanced to the side. “It…wasn’t so much peace through strength. Just a few
things such as “All living beings have the indestructible right to live peacefully, there should be
no action that is large enough for a full-scale war or that mercenaries must stay within the
company's country they are registered and if a company is registered in multiple nations, then
they may work between nations.’ Just to name a few.” He swallowed his mouthful of rice, before
obtaining another handful of grains. “Besides, I think the one you’re talking about was ‘All legally
defined settlements must maintain a militia or mercenary force to ensure the protection of their
citizens and visitors.’”
“Ah, my mistake then.” Nodenz chuckled. “Still, we appreciate your presence and are honored
to have you and Saint Sheraliah here. We’d be happy to hear your expertise on the matter, once
Sir Dathos and Lord Kuberan finish their briefings, for I am concluding my say on the matter. Sir
Dathos?”
The fox lifted his tricorn hat, smiling some at the general, before turning towards the others. “I’ve
not much to report. General Nodenz hit most of the important points. But I will add that there has
been unrest at the Slowcart Foundation’s branch within our city walls.”
Lord Kuberan’s frills spread out, a conical shape forming around his head. “Nooooo!” he hissed.
“Your forces were supposed to handle that! We can’t lose our revenue from The Slowcart
Foundation! The last thing we want is for them to take their business outside of the city!”
Dathos shrugged. “I’m doing what I can.” He replied. “Besides, you know as well as I do that
there has been some hatred for the foundation lately, since they’re based in Serval.”
Kuberan gritted his teeth, his yellow eyes bulging. “They are the LARGEST trading company of
the entire continent! I won’t have a bunch of ruffians spoil our relations, whether they’re based in
Serval or some backwater hole in the earth!”
Dathos shook his head. “Whatever, look…” He raised a finger, leaning forward. “Point I’m trying
to make, there’s always been a bit of an…’air’ surrounding The Slowcart Foundation. They
make an absolute crap-ton of gold, they can essentially buy their way into anything they want
and…remember that weird feast that happened at one of their parties back in Egland, up in
Wodford?”
Kishara blinked. “Oh yeah, I remember hearing about that. Something about some group at
Lady Bethany’s party getting tangled up with the Gilded Guard and something about some weird
behavior on Lady Bethany’s part.”
Dathos snapped his fingers. “Right. And Lady Bethany Eg hasn’t been seen all too much since
then. Which is why I found it interesting when the general found those records. It doesn’t imply
that she herself sent those bandits, but there were enough connections to show that if it wasn’t
the lady contracting them, it was someone very close to her in her court.”
“On top of that…” Dathos continued. “We’ve spotted a lot of rogues in the forested hills
bordering Wodford. Typically, we’d have the local militia deal with these brigands and call it a
day. However, on each of these rogues, we’ve noticed similar looking writs that were obtained
like the general spoke about, with near-identical records. Someone from Lady Bethany Eg’s
court is up to something strange. Not to mention…”
Dathos reached inside his pocket, before he tossed the object onto the table. A silver amulet
clattered across the desk, a crimson ruby adorning the center.
“...They all were wearing something that looked like this on their necks.” Dathos finished.
The general took a deep inhale from his pipe. “We didn’t see any of the bandits we intercepted
wearing these, but in their camps, we noticed they were stockpiling similar looking amulets.
We’re unsure WHY they’re wearing them, but I don’t think any of us are intent on putting that
thing around our necks for giggles, just to find out.”
Dathos leaned back on the chair, removing his hat and placing it on the table. “With that said,
the only other thing I have to report is that we’ve seen some other strange activity near the
forest. One of our militia members caught some logging party outside trying to cut down some
trees near the Wodford-Kapsia border. Interestingly enough, they also were wearing these
amulets. You wouldn’t think this is too big of a deal, except for the fact that some of the local
settlements on Wodford’s side are EXTREMELY protective regarding their forests. Some have
already tried making some complaints that we are ‘deforesting’ Wodford’s trees, which is simply
not true at all.”
Dathos leaned back in his chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, nudging his hat aside.
“Anyway, that’s it for my report. I don’t usually have much to report, but too much weird stuff is
going on lately. Lord Kuberan, you’re up.”
The frilled lizard hisses for a moment. “You…you battle-horny numb-skulls have talked for SO
long that I have almost completely forgotten what I initially wanted to report on! AGH!” The
overly-excitable lizard flailed around some, before sitting on his chair. The lizard then relaxed his
frills, and smiled softly. “Prince Marius. Princess Kishara…” A barely audible groan was heard
from Dathos, as he commented “If you keep calling her that, she’s going to punch you in the
face.”
Kuberan ignored the comment and continued. “Profits are up. Especially thanks to our business
dealings with The Slowcart Foundation. We are pleased to inform you that the treasury is in a
“golden age” of sorts, as we have more funds than ever to spare. I think it may be wise to use
some of these funds to continue our business dealings with the foundation, such as a new
building for the admin branch for the foundation’s members.
“I’m going to fall asleep if I keep listening to this guy talk.” Dathos sighed. Nodenz angrily puffed
away on his pipe.
“Also, great news! Our local taverns have reported great success! Profits, especially at Felid’s
Respite, are up! Way up!” Kuberan gleefully stated.
Kishara put her handpaws over her face. Marius glanced listlessly at Kuberan.
“Okay, that’s great, that’s enough.” Kishara sighed. “Sazzilin and Sheraliah…you both
mentioned you had something to share?”
Sazzilin stood, his companion mimicking the action. “Of course. Although, I’ll be honest, it feels
like we’ve learned much from you as well. We were aware of some…interesting dealings within
Wodford and its capital, Egland…but never to this extent.”
Sazzilin sighed. “We have heard of the incidents surrounding Lady Bethany Eg’s court within
Egland. There’s been many rumors that those within her court are looking to provoke a war
between Kapsia and Serval. These rumors have only grown more commonplace after the death
of King MacLirith. Serval has vast resources available to it, thanks to its wealth and
mercenaries. Kapsia has always had a powerful force and is surrounded by mountains on many
sides. A battle between any side would be costly.”
Sazzilin glanced at Kishara. “However, as mentioned before, we saints abhor all violence. And
should my Seven Solaces fail, my partner shall succeed. Sheraliah, after all, is known as the
‘Saint of Surrender’.” The seagull nodded softly. “Sheraliah has the ability to make enemies lose
the will to fight and disarm themselves. Their infiltrating skills are second-to-none and once they
have reached behind enemy lines, they are difficult to find once again.”
Dathos laughed a bit. “Great! We need someone like that. In the event Serval or Wodford keep
acting up, after all.”
This time, it was Sheraliah’s turn to face the fox swordsman. Dathos swore he could see a smile
creep onto the seagull’s beaked lips. “Ah, yes.” Sazzilin spoke. “Well, it’s not just merely for one
nation. It is for all. We do not wish violence on ANY side, and if need be, we will do what we can
to ensure neither Wodford, Serval or…” Sazzilin spoke the next words as he gazed right into
Dathos’ eyes. “...Kapsia come to needless blows.”
Dathos took the hint and reached for his hat, pulling it down low over his head.
Nodenz exhaled a long column of smoke. “We appreciate your insight, saints. I suppose our
biggest fear is not exactly going to war, but getting dragged into one, just because someone in
Lady Bethany Eg’s court wants to pick the spoils after Kapsia and Serval have at it.”
Dathos looked up. “If Serval even goes at it. The mercenary groups lately have been fighting
each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if The Slowcart Foundation was just funding all sides of this,
just because they think war would be good business.”
Another loud hiss echoed from across the room, as Lord Kuberan’s frills reacted again to
Dathos’ comment.
“Alright, I think that’s it.” Kishara started, not wanting to have to spend time listening to
Kuberan’s whining. “Brother, you’ve been so quiet during all of this. Don’t you have anything to
say?”
A sob was heard from Marius’ chair.
“B-brother?”
Marius leaned into his chair, craning his neck skyward. “F-father…m-mother.”
“O-oh.” Kishara gasped.
Nodenz sighed and stood from the table. “Agh, this really is some shit.”
Dathos looked off to the side, pretending to not notice. Kuberan somehow looked even more
uncomfortable. The two saints gazed at the crying prince. “I-is there anything we can do to
help-” Sazzilin started.
“I…I can’t do this, mother. Father. Please…why did you have to leave.” Marius ignored them,
tears streaming from his eyes.
Dathos shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “See, I know you hate being called ‘princess’ and all
that…but this is why you should be in charge.” Kishara shot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up,
Dathos. Now is NOT the time.” Dathos shrugged and stood from his seat.
General Nodenz groaned, taking the pipe out of his mouth, as he started to walk away.
“Embarrassment. I’m glad the Lord General and King weren’t here to see this, goodness…”
Dathos quickly rose to his feet, following out General Nodenz. “Hey, wait, you didn’t reply to me
if you wanted to get dinner together, don’t be so hasty, come on…” The pair exited the room.
Kuberan looked around for a moment, before he hopped off his chair, following suit. Leaving
only Kishara, the crying prince, and the two saints in the chamber.
Kishara put her head in her handpaws, sighing tiredly. She felt so tired. She wanted to help her
brother, but she had no idea how.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Kishara looked up, meeting the gaze of the lemur saint.
“Only you can heal him.” Sazzilin said. “Take care of him.”
* * *
“Come on, Dathos. Smile a bit. Even if it’s on the inside.”
“Well, princess, I was hired by the family to train you and your brother in the art of
swordsmanship, not drive horses around the kingdom.”
Kishara placed her hands on her hips, a smirk coming to her lips. A long, thin sword hung from
her hip, the estoc’s blade narrowing to a fine point at the tip. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”
The glowered look on Dathos’ face was barely seen by the wide brim of his hat, as he held onto
the leather reins of the horses in front of him, as he sat in the driver’s seat of the carriage. “Oh,
really? And what gave me away?”
“You only call me ‘princess’ when you’re mad, because you know I hate the term.” Kishara stood
outside of the carriage, leaning against it as her eyes scanned the oaken double-doors in front
of her, waiting for any possible sign of her brother.
“Oh, for...ugh” Dathos’ shoulders sank. “At least some practice with you and your brother will be
exciting. I don’t even remember the last time the prince was sober enough to hold a blade.”
Kishara crossed her arms, trying her best to stifle a sigh. “Yeah…hopefully this will do some
good-oh.” She cut herself off, as the doors in front of her creaked open.
Wearing a similar white jacket that he wore at the tavern earlier, now pristine and clean from all
stains, Marius stepped out into the morning sunlight, shielding his eyes with a handpaw. He
groaned through gritted teeth, slamming the doors behind him.
Kishara couldn’t help, but laugh a bit. “Good morning, Marius. I see that you’re in a cheery
mood.”
Marius sighed, as he stepped forward, keeping his head down to avoid the direct sunlight. “I do
not prefer to be up this early, sister. Besides, my head aches.”
“Well…yeah, when’s the last time you’ve been up this early?” Kishara looked off to the side for a
moment, trying to remain positive, but realizing that her brother’s headache was probably due to
a hangover. Again.
“I prefer to just sleep whenever I can. Besides, it’s not like my sword hand is going to get any
better. No point in using it when I can barely defend the kingdom.” Marius growled.
Kishara did her best to ignore her brother’s negative comments, as she reached for the door of
the carriage, pulling it open. “Oh, come on, Marius. Lighten up a bit, please. It’s been so long
since we’ve been out like this, I think some alone time together would do us some good.”
Marius raised an eyebrow. “We won’t be alone though. Sir Dathos is with us.” At the mere
mention of the title of “sir”, the fox swordsman visibly cringed. While Dathos was typically more
relaxed around Kishara, he had always been on his best behavior in front of the other members
of the royal family.
“Annnnd, Dathos will be driving the cart. Sure, he’ll teach us SOME swordplay, but isn’t it good
to get out of the castle?” Kishara nodded her head towards the interior of the carriage, wanting
to just get Marius inside and go before his mood worsened.
“To be quite frank, dear sister, I’d rather be sampling our wines.” Marius scoffed.
“Oh balls, here we go…” Kishara thought to herself, straining to smile still for her brother.
“Besides…” Marius glanced over at Dathos, the fox staring forward in a thousand-yard stare.
“...isn’t Sir Dathos a swordsman? Why is he driving the cart? He’d probably be liable to get us in
an accident.”
Kishara glanced over at Dathos, seeing the fox visibly shake with embarrassment. The sound of
teeth being ground emanated from him.
“Haha, okay, Marius, come on, let’s go, I don’t want us to get caught up when the rest of the
townsfolk are trying to rush to the market.” Kishara said, trying to just take the comment as an
opportunity to get her brother into the carriage.
* * *
“Look, Marius! Isn’t this neat?” Kishara looked out the window of the carriage. They were just
beyond the South Gate of Alia, the walls of the port town fading into the distance, with the
occasional home or inn dotting the side of the road. Green fields extended as far as the eye
could see, as verdant hills rose towards the horizon, only to descend into deep valleys. As a
gentle breeze blew, the wind swept through the grass in waves.
Kishara turned to her brother, a smile on her face, only for her smile to disappear completely.
Marius looked down at his own feet, not bothering to look outside of the carriage. “So?” he
asked. “It’s just grass. You can see grass anywhere.”
Kishara scratched the back of her neck. “Well, yeah, of course you can see grass anywhere, but
that’s not the point. We haven’t been outside of the castle in so long, much less the city.”
“We just were outside the castle though, some time ago.” Marius coldly replied.
“Well, yeah, but not the town. And the last place we were at was…oh.” Kishara rolled her eyes.
“Don’t you dare say-”
“We were at the tavern the other day.” Marius finished.
Kishara slapped a handpaw to her face, growling in frustration.
The pair were silent for some time, with Kishara looking out the window, Marius continuing to be
lost in his own thoughts.
“Marius…” Kishara asked her brother without taking her eyes off the hills outside. As their
carriage continued outside of the city limits, the tall trees blocked out the sun, light streaming
through the green leaves.
“...I want to help, Marius. I love you.” Kishara finished.
“You can’t help me.” Marius droned. “Only mother and father could have and…they’re gone.”
“I…I know. It hurts like-I can’t even begin to describe it, Marius.” She turned to face her brother,
her eyes glistening with tears. “But…they wouldn’t want to see you like this. They would want to
see you blossom into a proud ruler. Alia and…Kapsia needs a ruler and, Marius, you have
everything at your disposal. You have everyone here to support you. Even those from other
nations want to support you, Marius. You were there at our meeting! The world is leaning
towards something really…REALLY bad and I don’t think we’re gonna make it out of this one
alive, unless we stand together. And Kapsia needs someone like you to lead us through all this
insanity.”
“Tch.” Marius scoffed. “All of a sudden, you care about politics now?”
Kishara balled her handpaws into fists, gritting her teeth, as tears matted down the fur
underneath her eyes. “I don’t care about politics! I care about YOU! You’re my brother, dammit.
Mother and father would not have wanted to see you like this.”
“And you’re my adopted sister.” Marius replied coolly. “Not like you really knew our parents all
that well.”
Kishara’s lower jaw hung open for a second, her eyes glaring at Marius, tears flowing freely
now.
“...SO…WHAT?” She raised her voice, the sound bouncing off the walls of the tiny carriage.
“Fine, I may not be related to you by blood, but I was always there for you! Your parents loved
you SO much and they wanted to raise you into a proper leader. And now they’re gone. And it’s
terrible. But I’m still here, Marius! Even if you may not be ready, that’s fine! Just let me be here
for you and stop thinking of ways to get to the bottom of a bottle already!”
Marius glanced up, his tired eyes staring through Kishara. “You have no idea what it’s like-”
“No, you’re right, I don’t!” Kishara interrupted. “But I also know you have such a bright future
ahead of you, Marius, and watching you throw it all down the drain is killing me. I can’t just stand
by and watch you continue to wallow in this hole that you’re stuck in. I want to help, Marius!
Please.”
The carriage stopped. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to be in charge. You hate
it when others call you ‘princess’. You’re just trying to avoid responsibility.”
“T-that’s not true, Marius.”
“Just let me go, Kishara.” Marius hung his head.
Kishara opened her mouth to speak, only for the carriage door to suddenly open, revealing
Dathos.
“I truly do hate to interrupt the…ah, ‘chat’, you two were having. But I must kindly request
silence for the moment.” Dathos stated, before his eyes shifted behind the carriage. “For we are
being followed.”
Marius blinked for a moment, looking up at Dathos. “Followed? By whom?”
“Well, we’ll find out relatively soon, I suppose. Please remain here, the both of you, I will root
them out.” Dathos began to shut the carriage door, only for Kishara to lean forward and push it
back open with her handpaw.
“I’ll help you out, Dathos.” Kishara began to exit the carriage.
“N-no need, princess-er, I mean…Kishara.” Dathos stuttered. “I’d much prefer if you and the
prince were safe and my own abilities are more than capable in-”
“I’m helping.” Kishara replied, as she hopped out of the carriage, drawing her estoc.
“...Stay safe, Kishara.” Dathos solemnly nodded. “Behind the carriage, I saw what appeared to
be a shadow. Cloaked. Unsure how far we’ve been followed. But they’re not exactly subtle.
They-”
A branch snapped.
Dathos was a blur. Drawing his rapier in one fluid motion, he sprinted towards the bushes and
trees off the side of the road, behind the carriage. A panicked cry rang out from the bushes, only
for a cloaked figure to emerge from their concealed position.
“KISHARA!” Dathos shouted. “TO YOU!”
Kishara nodded, as the cloaked figure sprinted away from the fox swordsman, its head down
and not exactly paying attention to where it was going, flailing its arms as it ran. “Oh crap, oh
crap, oh crap, help, help, HELP NOW!” the stalker panted as it ran right into Kishara.
Only for her to slam the hilt of her blade directly into its stomach.
Collapsing to the ground, the figure’s hood flew off it’s face, revealing a furry face with a
black-tipped nose, a similarly dark shade of fur formed a “band” over its eyes, almost like a
mask of sorts, the raccoon-like stalker coughing viciously into its handpaws after having the
wind knocked out of them.
“ACK! Ughh…” the stalker hacked, covering his handpaws with saliva. “O-okay, ya got me, calm
down, calm down, calm down, right now.” Kishara held out her estoc, the tigress glaring at the
raccoon below her, the pointed blade-tip held at his face.
“I think I’m plenty calm and while I tend to not be bothered by much, I’d prefer my suitors to ASK
me for a date, not just creepily hide behind some bushes.” Kishara smirked, cocking an
eyebrow.
“‘S-suitor?’” The raccoon caught his breath. “Lady, I have no idea who you even are! I’m just
lookin’ for uh…someone else!”
“Uh-huh, likely story.” Kishara rolled her eyes, as Dathos reappeared from the bushes,
sheathing his rapier at his hip.
“Well, it appears you got this one, Kishara.” Dathos chuckled. “Keep this up and I’ll have to quit,
once you surpass me.” Dathos’ smile melted away, a stern expression on his face as he glared
down at the raccoon. “Now, what do we do about our little stalker?”
“Uhh…” The raccoon smiled. “You can…let me go? It’s not like I’m doing anything here and, ya’
know, I just was passing through.”
Kishara growled. “You really suck at lying, you know that?” Dathos even let out a chuckle.
“Seriously, even I’m impressed with how bad you are.” He laughed.
The raccoon felt a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “L-look, I’m really not here for any
particular reason. I am just a humble traveler, no one special.”
The door of the carriage opened, as Marius stepped out. “Can we hurry up? Why are we still
wasting our time out here?” Marius glanced down at the robed raccoon, still lying on his
backside. “What happened out here?”
The raccoon’s ears perked, as he held a hand to his chest. “Ah, yes, my prince! I am Cinarius, a
humble employee of the illustrious Slowcart Foundation. Particularly in Alia’s branch, at your
service.”
The widened eyes from all parties immediately made the raccoon recognize he spoke far too
much. “Oh…whoops.”
Marius cocked his head. “...The Slowcart Foundation?”
Kishara narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were just a traveler.”
Dathos put a handpaw to his face and laughed. “Goodness, how did you even get HIRED?
Where did they find you? Oh man, oh wow.”
“O-okay, so.” Cinarius started. “Perhaps I talk a bit too much. Fine, I’m just merely a spy-er, an
interested party for the foundation and I just…wanted to keep an eye on the royal family.” He
shifted about uncomfortably, before gently reaching up with a handpaw, placing it on the edge of
the estoc that Kishara was holding towards his throat, gently pushing it away. “C-can I please
get up now? I’ll talk, just, this ground isn’t exactly soft, you know. And I don’t think anyone likes
sharp objects pointed at them for too long.”
Kishara kept her weapon level, despite the raccoon pushing it away, before she sheathed the
blade. “With how loose your tongue is, you seem harmless enough.”
Cinarius smiled as he slowly rose, dusting himself off. “Thank you. I never really was good at
this lying thing or spying stuff anyway.” Dathos took off his hat to hide his face, trying his best to
not burst into laughter.
Marius leaned against the carriage, arms crossed. Kishara placed her hands on her hips,
glancing at Dathos with an annoyed look on her face, before back at Cinarius. “Fine, we get it.
You suck at your job. So, talk. Why were you out here following us?”
“Well…as I mentioned, I’m trying to keep tabs on the royal family. You guys are, after all,
like…celebrities. And a lot’s been going on.” Cinarius looked over at Marius, scratching behind
his head. “Terribly sorry to hear about your dad, prince. It’s causing quite a stir everywhere
across the continent. Not just within the foundation, but everyone seemed to have known him.”
“Don’t talk about father.” Marius growled. “Your words mean nothing to me and can’t fill the void
in my heart.”
Cinarius let out a soft whine. “O-okay, fair, I’m sorry, I know it’s a sore subject.” He continued.
“But, as you know, a lotta folks disappeared years and years ago. Like, about a decade or so.
Bad times for everyone. We’ve been trying to keep tabs on those families. Make sure they’re
well-compensated, if need be. A lot of bread-winners suddenly disappeared and we didn’t want
to have any of the populace go without. That and they could…well…become customers one
day.”
“A decade ago?” Dathos asked. “...Isn’t that when Queen Amphritus disappeared?”
Kishara froze for a moment. She could practically feel Marius glare behind her, staring through
her and at Cinarius suddenly. The raccoon continued. “Stranger still, some of these families that
had loved ones go missing…spouses, children, brothers, etc., they found strange creatures and
monsters near their homes.”
Dathos interjected. “Ah, yeah. We have been seeing an increase in monsters lately, out here in
the woods. Typically, wild beasts. Nothing too taxing and easy for any adventurer party or the
local militia to put down.”
Cinarius turned to face the fox. “True! But, allow me to ask.” He smirked at Dathos. “Did they
ever carry any strange objects? Jewelry, perhaps?”
Dathos scratched the back of his head. “Come to think of it, yeah. There’s been a lot of reports
on how these monsters that keep showing up in the forest are wearing things like rings,
necklaces…things like that.”
“Do you remember if any families recognized the keepsakes the monsters were wearing?”
Cinarius asked.
Kishara bit her lower lip. “Where are you going with this?”
Dathos put his hat back on, lowering it over his eyes. “...Now that I think of it, yeah. And some
who got close to these monsters have reported rather erratic behavior. One moment, they’re
hostile and frothing at the mouth, the next, suddenly docile. Like, they seem to have a bit of
familiarity with that person, before attacking them.”
Cinarius nodded. “Yes, we’re trying to look into that as well, down at the foundation. It’s…weird.”
Kishara shuddered. “...Do you think the monsters are…the ones who disappeared?”
Cinarius shook his head. “We’re not really sure, so, for as much as I talk, I’m not going to say
that. But some of our “Slowcarts”, our merchant fleets, have been spotting random pieces of
jewelry on the road lately. Necklaces, rings, chokers, that sort of thing. Something like…this.”
The raccoon slipped a hand into his robes, only to produce an item, holding it between his
padded thumb and index finger for Kishara to see. A navy-blue ring with a golden thorn-like trim
engraved into it. Black sigils were scrawled on the inside-band of the ring.
The tigress’ eyes widened.
“M-mother’s…”
Before he could even finish the sentence, a blur moved past Kishara’s eyes, as Marius struck a
blow so hard against Cinarius, the raccoon was sent flying off its feet and back onto the ground,
the ring flying from his grasp, landing into the dirt. By the time she registered what was going
on, Marius was on top of him, landing blow after blow. Even Dathos was stunned, as he jolted
so hard, his hat fell off.
“MARIUS! NO!” Kishara screamed.
There were no words. Just the sound of a fist striking flesh and bone, over and over again,
interspersed with the raccoon’s yelps.
“MARIUS, STOP! PLEASE!” Kishara tried to grab his arm mid-swing, but he threw her off, as his
wrath continued. “Prince, get a hold of yourself!” Dathos attempted to wrestle Marius off of
Cinarius, the lion thrashing about the entire time, his white coat stained with dirt and blood.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO SPEAK OF FATHER! AND YET, YOU CHOOSE TO SPEAK OF
MOTHER?” Marius roared, his pupils constricted, as Dathos struggled to keep a hold of the
rampaging prince. “I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL PUT AN END TO YOU AND THE FOUNDATION WITH
MY BARE HANDS!
Kishara grabbed Marius, with the assistance of Dathos, struggling to hold him down, as he fell
to his knees. His heavy panting and snarls soon gave way to sobs, tears beginning to stream
down his face.
“S-she has to be out there…somewhere.” Marius cried. “Alone. Lost. Confused. Afraid.”
“Marius, please!” Kishara found tears streaming down her eyes as well. “I-I know how you feel,
but…” She glanced over at Cinarius. The raccoon had been completely and utterly knocked out,
his robes bloodied, his face an unrecognizable mess.
“Kishara.” Dathos gritted his teeth. “We need to get out of here.”
Marius sobbed in their arms, having lost the will to fight and not even listening now.
“I know, Dathos! But I’m not just going to leave him lying there on the road to die!” Kishara
screamed.
“Wasn’t my intention, my lady.” Dathos sighed. “I will take the one from the foundation with us in
the front seat. You and Marius get in the back. We’ll arrive at the castle as fast as we can, and
we’ll have him looked at. Last thing we need is a member of the foundation being ripped to
shreds by the prince of Kapsia, and then leaving him dead on the road.
“D-don’t you dare…” the prince sobbed, eyes stinging from his tears. “Don’t forget mother’s…”
Dathos nodded, releasing the prince, before he hurriedly ran over to the site of the scuffle,
quickly retrieving the ring from the earth, stepping over to Cinarius to help rouse the raccoon
from his state, in an attempt to help them back to the driver’s seat of the carriage.
Kishara helped Marius to his feet, leading him back into the carriage, as he continued to cry out
inside.
* * *
The clash of steel rang out in her ears, as Dathos swiftly parried Kishara’s blow, before he
stepped forward with his rapier, the riposte barely missing Kishara as she stepped to the side.
She deftly struck aside the blow, forcing the rapier from Dathos’ hand and to the ground.
Holding a hand out, the fox swordsman smirked, as he signaled to stop the bout.
“Well, Kishara…” Dathos reached down for his rapier. “It truly looks like you may not need me to
teach you swordplay. You really have outdone yourself, this time.”
Kishara relaxed her stance, sheathing her estoc, as she smiled at Dathos. “Well, things have
been pretty crazy for the past few months, you know.”
Dathos sighed as he sheathed his rapier. “Yeah…I’m not sure if I like it myself, Kishara. Ever
since the prince retrieved your mother’s ring, he’s been acting…strange.”
Kishara grimaced. “Well, at least he’s now doing something other than drinking.”
“Yes, and he’s been actually taking his duties seriously for once. Getting himself involved with
the briefings, studying tactics…essentially, learning how to become a prince. The man’s
obsessed.” He turned to walk with Kishara back towards the castle, the sun starting to rise over
the walls of the training yards outside.
“That’s what I’m worried about, Dathos.” Kishara sighed, as she followed him. “He barely sleeps,
if ever. He only wants to do this, because he wants to find out what happened to mother. I’ve
never seen him like this, Dathos. I-I…” She stopped and looked down. “He’s even locked me out
from his life. I don’t remember the last time we’ve even shared a sentence with each other.”
“That and, he’s been essentially keeping that foundation fellow here as a ‘guest’” Dathos
winced.
“More like a prisoner. I have a feeling he’s abusing him.” Kishara opened the wooden door
leading into the castle. “Everytime I see him, he has some new injury. Walking with a limp,
bruises, scratches...Cinarius keeps saying that he ‘fell over something’ or just has been clumsy,
but I have this feeling my brother is taking out his anger on him. He even is starting to forget
little things, like his own name or where he is or who he works for.”
Dathos was silent for a moment, as the sound of both his and Kishara’s boots rang out through
the castle. The gas lamps that had typically illuminated the inner walls had been extinguished
for some time now, as dust and debris started to pile up. They both strode through the dark
halls, reaching the main entrance of the castle. The navy-blue carpets that covered the stone
floors, once flush, were now tattered and bunched up in the corner. Sea-green tapestries now
hung loosely and lopsided from the ceiling, the only light coming through a variety of stained
glass windows high above.
“That and he’s essentially banished almost everyone within the castle who isn’t a part of the
strategic effort.” Dathos spoke up finally. “He’s been trying to push into Serval more and more
lately. General Nodenz is even feeling a bit uneasy with the tactics the prince is suggesting. The
general confided in me that your brother is attempting to have our forces pass into Serval
territory to conduct nighttime raids of settlements, such as Kokoloty, and perform kidnappings.
Particularly, on family members. Something about the prince wanting to ‘make them feel the
pain I have felt for years’. The servants have all been let go and the castle has fallen, quite
frankly, into disarray. Lord Kuberan was banished, under threat of death, due to wanting to keep
relations with The Slowcart Foundation cordial. If anything, the only GOOD thing that’s
happened, is that your brother has ordered my knights to stand down near the borders of
Wodford. I think he cares more about getting vengeance against Serval for his father’s death,
then whatever nonsense Lady Bethany Eg’s court is cooking up.”
Kishara’s eyes widened with fear. “I…I never knew that. I…I’m worried for him, Dathos. I don’t
know what to do and-”
The heavy oaken doors leading outside of the castle suddenly opened, as two armored clad
figures rushed in, one of them carrying something over their shoulder.
Or someone. Kishara recognized the raccoon the moment she saw him.
“Cinarius!”
The knight holding the wounded Foundation member stopped in his tracks to bow his head
slightly in the direction of Kishara. “Princess! We have no time, he’s been gravely wounded and
Prince Marius is missing!”
Dathos blinked. “Missing? What happened?!”
“We heard there was a local disturbance at the Alia branch of The Slowcart Foundation’s
offices. Thinking it was just local ruffians, we rode to the scene. Only to find that Prince Marius
was threatening members of the Foundation at blade-point, having dragged him…” The knight
nodded towards the wounded raccoon over his shoulder. “...with him.”
Dathos removed his hat, clutching it towards his chest. “What the…where is the prince now?!”
“Gone. Took one our steeds and said something about ‘taking care of Serval by himself if he
needed to’”
Dathos threw his hat off to the side. “Treat the wounded. Get a legion of knights. Contact the
general. And get a hold of Lord Kuberan if you can. Even if he’s been banished, he can at least
try to fix the damage the Prince did at the Foundation. And get me a steed. Your fastest.”
“I’m going too.” Kishara declared.
“No, you’re not, princess. We can’t risk both you and the prince-”
“I’m. Going. Too.” Kishara stated to Dathos without even looking at him.
Dathos froze, before his shoulders sank some. “...Get me two of your fastest steeds.”
The knight nodded, as he started to rush off with the other knight to the castle’s infirmary, only
for a groan to be heard.
“H-help…me…”
Kishara turned, seeing Cinarius begin to stir from his comatose state. The raccoon tried to lift his
head up.
“Hold on, Cinarius.” Kishara knelt down so her face was level with the raccoon’s. His face was
covered in blood and bruises and badly bandaged, never having fully recovered from when
Marius assailed him months ago. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
“C-Cinarius?” The raccoon asked. “Is that…my name?”
“Y-yeah.” Kishara chuckled, smiling ruefully. “I…yeah, it is. Come on, don’t you know where you
are?”
“...Be careful. They’re…” The raccoon faded in and out of consciousness.
“‘They’re?’ Who?”
“Watching you. Watching all of us.” Cinarius’ voice was strained. “…I keep waking up in the
middle of the night…somewhere else. Not in the castle and…just…finding my way back here.
P-please be…”
Cinarius passed out again. Kishara felt a shiver run down her spine.
Standing up, she nodded. “Please take care of him.”
* * *
The forested hills of Kapsia gave way to bare plains, as the sun rose high in the sky, its rays
beating down on both Kishara and Dathos as they rode along the path from Alia. Wheat fields
and the occasional farmhouse dotted the endless plain, the sky stretching on forever into the
horizon.
“Judging by the surrounding area and by how long we’ve been riding, I’d say we’re nearing
Kren. Your brother may have gotten a head start, but he shouldn’t be too much farther ahead if
he rode this way.” Dathos scanned the horizon. “He’ll either be riding into Iatama to Kovesto or
taking the more direct route to Skaraysk from Skariza. If we don’t find him by Iatama, we’ll split
up.”
Kishara remained silent as she rode with Dathos.
“Kishara.”
She gasped, staring at Dathos. “Y-yes?”
“We’ve been riding for hours.” Dathos wore a concerned expression on his face. “The horses
must be getting a bit tired. And we haven’t eaten all day.”
“I-I know, I just…”
“I understand.”
“I’m so worried about him, Dathos.” Kishara sighed. “I have a feeling he’s going to really start
some kind of war at this point and…most of all, I’m worried about him. I’ve already lost mother
and father…twice, now. I don’t want to lose my only family, Dathos.”
“Kishara…I…”
“Either way, we must press forward.” Kishara started. “I don’t want to lose track of Marius and-”
Kishara felt a shiver down her spine. No, more like a mental dagger in the base of her spine. A
cold sweat began to form on the base of her neck.
Snapping her head to the field, out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a shadowy
figure standing in the distance.
Watching her.
She blinked. And it was gone.
“Kishara, are you okay?” Dathos snapped her back to reality.
“...Did you…” She started to ask.
“Kishara?”
“...Nevermind.” She focused up on the road ahead, as they continued down the path.
* * *
Now alone, Kishara rode down the path towards Skariza. Both herself and Dathos failed to find
Marius on the road to Iatama, and as agreed, split up, with Dathos riding towards the Servan
border along the way to Kovesto. The forest returned once more, blocking out the fields they
had previously passed, as the mountains of Kapsia lay in front of her, the great hills forming a
natural border between Kapsia and Serval. The sun had started its decline from high noon.
For miles and miles, the road laid empty. Her eyes scanned the trees to the sides of the road.
Hoping for some sign of life.
Only to spot two steeds standing on the side of the road.
One horse was covered in black fur, with merely a brown saddle on its back. The other, in white
fur. Covered in silver barding, with a navy-blue and sea-green decorative cloth draped around
the barding.
Kishara stopped her steed in its tracks, recognizing the colors of Kapsia. She barely waited for
the horse to fully stop, as she jumped off the saddle, almost tumbling to the road below,
sprinting towards the two mounts.
The horses stared at her with wide eyes as she ran towards them, rearing up and taking off
down the road. The dirt nearby appeared to have been recently disturbed and discolored with a
crimson-red shade.
Blood.
Kishara grit her teeth, her swordhand trembling as she reached for her estoc sheathed at her
hip, pulling it from its home, kneeling down to inspect the blood. Only to notice that, off the side
of the road, droplets of blood continued to dot the ground, leading off into the treeline.
Kishara followed the trail, leading into the forest. The surrounding area was silent. Not even the
local wildlife made a sound, the only thing she heard was the sound of her own boots crushing
the grass beneath her feet.
And…a sob.
Her ears perked up as she gasped. Breaking out into a run, the source of the sobbing grew
louder, as she ran forward, towards a great tree, the roots tangling into earth deep below, the
tree stretching into the sky, its canopy blocking out the sun.
As she neared the tree, she saw her brother.
Wearing his regal white jacket he typically wore, it was now covered in dirt, mud and blood. He
was kneeling over the body of a feline in leather armor. His gold, jewel-encrusted blade having
been impaled within the cat’s body that had been slumped over.
Marius was sobbing, covering his face with his dirty handpaws.
“...Marius?”
The prince’s eyes snapped towards Kishara, his golden eyes filled with fear and sorrow. Only to
let out a wail as he cried out, his voice breaking down into sobs once again.
“Marius…” Kishara dropped her estoc, getting on her knees and wrapping her arms around her
brother, embracing him tightly as he cried.
“I…I can’t…I…” Marius sobbed. “I…I killed him, I…I never have killed anyone…”
“Talk to me, brother. Please…”
“I…I don’t know. A mercenary…an assassin? From Serval maybe…I don’t know, he tried to
attack me and…I…”
“Marius…”
“I can’t do this, Kishara. I’m not cut out to be a ruler. I can’t avenge my father and I can’t find my
mother. I’m so…I’m such a disappointment.”
“It’s okay, Marius…” Kishara held her brother close. “Let’s go home. We’ll figure it out when we
get back.”
“I can’t go back, I…I…I wanted to avenge my family so badly, and I…I just….” He cried out.
Kishara said nothing. She was just happy to see her brother and to put an end to this nightmare.
Only for something to whizz beside her head and slam into the tree beside them.
Kishara cried out, as she snapped her head up, staring at the crossbow bolt that had just barely
missed her, snapping her eyes towards whoever had shot it.
Another feline in leather armor lowered her crossbow, as the black-furred cat grinned a sick
smile, her left ear completely covered by a bandage, a cross-shaped scar on her cheek. “And
here I was, trying to get you to enjoy your last moments without fear. Oh well, that just makes
things interesting.”
Kishara released her brother, as she scrambled to reach for her estoc, only for another
crossbow bolt to land in front of her. “Nuh-uh, sweetie.” The cat sneered. “We’ve got you pinned
down from all angles. One false move and you’re dead.”
From the forest, a group of leather-clad figures stepped out from concealment, some carrying
crossbows, others composite bows and all armed with a variety of daggers and short-swords.
“Well, I mean, you’re gonna be dead anyway…” The cat shrugged. “Just depends on how quick
you want it, you know?”
“Let us go.” Kishara growled, as Marius sat on his rear, the lion starting to pant and
hyperventilate with fear.
“Oh, please!” The cat laughed out loud. “You’re really in no position to make demands here, you
know? The Prince has a pretty high price on his head, after all. As for you, dear, I’m sorry to say,
but you’re worthless.” The cat locked another bolt into her own crossbow. “I’ll still enjoy killing
you though. Let’s just call you a bit of a ‘bonus’ for me, huh?”
Kishara’s hateful gaze tore right through the mercenary, before she scrambled back, trying to
protect her brother, holding her arms out. “I won’t let you.”
“Girl, you must be braindead, I swear.” The cat licked her lips, her slit pupils beginning to dilate.
“You’re gonna die here and if anything, if you keep trying to make this job take any more time
then it already has, we’re gonna make your death so much more miserable than his. I know the
limits a body can take before the light is finally snuffed out of their eyes, after all.”
Kishara gritted her teeth, refusing to move.
“Your funeral, baby.” The cat aimed the crossbow with one hand, raising another to prepare the
other archers to signal to fire in unison.
Kishara shut her eyes.
Only to snap them wide open as a piercing roar rang out through the forest, the sound of
something heavy and powerful slamming against flesh.
“Saints forbid, what is THAT?!”
The cat snapped her aim towards the creature, her jaw dropping at the sheer size of it.
A twisted creature, standing at ten feet, roared with fury, saliva dripping from its wolf-like snout.
The werewolf was covered in shaggy, black and white striped fur, wearing no garments, save for
what appeared to be a necklace around its throat. Blood dripped from its long, twisted claws.
Muscles bulged and rippled, some of the sinew appearing through the fur, almost like it’s trying
to escape its prison of flesh and fur, the muscles uneven in various limbs. Three pairs of eyes
made up its face, with a snake-like maw jutting out of its left shoulder, gnashing teeth of a,
goat-like maw on its right forearm. As the werewolf-like creature roared, all three maws cried out
in unison, a twisted sound that was akin to a bird screaming out, mixed in with the roar of a lion.
One of the mercs attempted to charge at the creature, only for the werewolf to reach out with its
massive handpaw, picking up the assailant with ease, tossing them aside like a ragdoll against
one of the trees. Bones cracked, as the mercenary slammed against the trunk, laying still in an
unnatural pose.
“It’s…it’s something that’s alive, right?” The feline mercenary chuckled a bit, shivers running
down her spine. “If it’s alive, that means it can die!” Raising her crossbow, she launched an
arrow directly into its chest. The bolt struck true, causing the creature to howl out a terrifying cry
in pain, as black blood burst from the wound, only for it to tear out the bolt with bits of flesh
using its clawed hand. “...Well, shit.” The cat grimaced.
Kishara turned towards her brother. Marius’ mouth was ajar, his eyes glazed over, in an almost
catatonic like state, as he shivered violently with fear. “Marius! We need to get outta here! Now!”
Kishara grasped the collar of his coat and pulled him up, in an attempt to snap him out of his
daze.
“R-right!” Marius came to, as he scrambled to his feet. Kishara grabbed her estoc and started to
run, holding her brother’s handpaw as the carnage around them ensued. Bodies flew, the sound
of tooth and claw rending flesh and the cries of pain filled the air, as the two attempted to vacate
the scene.
Only, for her brother’s hand to suddenly be gone from her grasp.
Kishara wheeled around. A familiar voice screamed in terror.
Marius was lying on the ground, the beast having pounced him. It’s massive handpaws forced
his body to the ground. Claws tore into his uniform, the gibbering maw on the side of the beast’s
arm chattering and wailing as he was helpless to resist, feeling the air in his lungs being forced
out. The werewolf’s muzzle parted, as its jaws slavered, a mixture of hot saliva and blood
dripping onto the prince’s face.
“H-help me. I…I’m so sorry…” Marius pleaded.
Marius’ eyes caught a blue flash, as the sun shone on the blue sapphire pendant around the
beast’s throat.
His eyes widened, as he gasped painfully, staring at the platinum pendant around its throat, a
blue sapphire gemstone having been laid in the center of the necklace. His eyes immediately
shot up to the werewolf’s eyes.
The three pairs of eyes all glared at him. Two pairs were completely mismatched, a mixture of
reptilian and goat eyes stared back at him.
But a pair of golden eyes looked right into his own.
“...Aurelia?” Marius whispered.
The beast suddenly froze.
“...Mother?”
For a moment, those golden eyes softened. Almost like they recognized Marius.
Only for the beast to cry out in pain, the sound piercing Marius’ ears to the point of damage, a
blade driving through the werewolf’s chest.
It had all happened in the span of a few seconds, but the feline assassin, covered in dirt, grime
and blood, impaled one of her swords through the back of the beast, to the point where the tip
poked out of the chest of the werewolf. Blood poured out of the wound, covering the prince in a
mixture of crimson and blackened blood.
“STOP! NOW!” Kishara dashed forward, blade in hand. The assassin took one of her handpaws
off the hilt of the weapon, reaching for her crossbow, aimed and fired a bolt into Kishara’s
shoulder. Screaming out in pain, Kishara fell to the ground, dropping her weapon.
“I’m going to get paid. No matter what.” The assassin growled, before dropping her crossbow,
taking the hilt of her blade into both handpaws, and drove the blade further into the werewolf.
The sword impaled completely through the wolf, with the blade tip ramming into Marius’ chest.
Kishara growled with fury, gritting her teeth as she reached forward and reached a hand over
the bolt stuck in her shoulder. Clenching her eyes, she roared in pain, as she yanked the bolt
out. Pain wracked through her body, shooting through her arm like a knife.
Marius writhed in agony, as the blade-tip pierced his chest, screaming out Kishara’s name.
Only for her to black out from the pain.
* * *
Kisahara awoke with a start.
Immediately, she sat up, and then received a painful reminder that her arm had been shot.
Growling out, she grasped her wounded shoulder, forcing herself to stand. Looking for her
brother.
Right where she left him.
Marius had been laying on the ground, the beast’s body laying beside him. He was turned to
face the werewolf, the creature now still and silent.
Kishara knelt down next to her brother. “M-Marius…are you…”
“It…was her. All along. She had been alive…” He whispered, voice hoarse with pain.
Looking down at his chest, it was soaked in blood.
“We…we need to get you out of here, Marius.”
“Cinarius was right…” Marius smiled softly. “She had been in these woods for so long. And she
found me…”
“Marius, I…”
Kishara attempted to hold her brother, trying to bring him to his feet. Only for him to start
violently coughing. Blood spewed between his lips. He gasped, holding the wound over his
chest with his handpaw, the ring around his finger that had been his mother’s being soaked with
crimson.
“I don’t…Kishara…I…am I dying…?”
“...I don’t know.” Kishara knew the answer, but was afraid to tell him the truth.
“Kishara, please…You’re all I have left, I don’t want to…I don’t want to die.”
She began to weep, as her brother attempted to embrace her. “Marius…you’re all I have left
too…”
The ring around his finger began to glow a sickly green color. The sigils on the inside band of
the ring came to life with power. Kishara barely noticed this through her tears, holding her
brother closely to her chest.
“Kishara…please…don’t let me go-”
Suddenly, her brother was enveloped in a green light.
And he was gone before her eyes.
Kishara scrambled back, letting out a cry. “M-Marius?!” She snapped her head back and forth.
“MARIUS!”
Silence answered her. Leaving her only with herself and the dead creature she had once called
“mother” in the woods.
* * *
The sun was hanging low, as dusk began to set in. Kishara had returned home to the castle,
alone, on her steed. Her arm had stopped bleeding, but she needed to get some sort of
attention to it right away. She had received no word from Dathos or anyone else on the journey
back home. A home that she will now return to, by herself, with no one else left in her family,
after she had just watched her mother, now transformed into a hideous beast, die before her
eyes.
And as for Marius, she didn’t even want to think about him right now.
Her features were blank, as was her mind. She dismounted the horse, as she returned to the
inner walls of the castle. Thankfully, the city of Alia had been in an uproar with attempting to find
the prince, so no one stopped her on the way back, as the guard had been preoccupied with
finding Marius.
She slowly and listlessly walked towards the oaken doors of the castle, as she struggled to open
them with one arm, pressing her body against the entryway, leading into the dark halls of her
home.
She looked around, as, with no gas lamps lit, the interior was shrouded in shadow, save for the
dying light of the sun outside coming through the stained glass windows.
As Kishara stared forward, she realized she was not alone.
Sitting on the steps that lead to the upper levels of the castle, Cinarius sat on the stairs, his
head hung low. Beside him, sat another figure wearing a dark blue robe. A hand from the figure
grasped Cinarius’ skull, its fingers digging into the bloodied and bandaged head.
“W-who…who are you? Where is everyone?” Kishara shouted out, her eyes wide with fear and
anger.
“My, my, my.” The figure spoke, as it tilted its head upward. While hooded, Kishara attempted to
get a look at its visage, only for the face to keep shifting. The visage shifted between various
creatures, never settling for one, always changing from one to the next. As it spoke, the pitch of
its voice rose and fell, shifting between tones. “You sure took your time getting home.”
“I am not in the mood to play games.” Kishara growled. “Answer the question.”
Cinarius attempted to speak, his eyes listless and unfocused, only to babble out a response that
was completely incoherent.
“Oh, ho~” The cloaked figure chuckled. “Look at that, it’s trying to talk.”
Fury filled Kishara’ heart, as she reached for her sword. Only to realize, she had forgotten it
back in the woods, her heart sinking now.
“Forget something?” The figure asked. “Strange, one shouldn’t go traipsing around the roads
with no weapon. Can lead to a rather sorrowful end.”
“...I don’t need a weapon to deal with you.” Kishara bared her teeth.
The figure pointed with its spare hand at her shoulder, the hand changing from a long claw, to a
furred handpaw, to a webbed appendage, all within the span of a few seconds. “I don’t think
you’re going to be doing much with that shoulder.” The one constant thing that had remained on
that changing appendage, was that there was a navy-blue ring with a golden thorn-like pattern
engraved on it.
Kishara spat.
“Anyhoo, care to chat? We’ve got all the time in the world.” it asked.
“Who…are you?”
“Ahhh, ahhh, no, my dear. You don’t get to ask questions. Today is ‘show and tell’. I am here to
offer you some information.
Kishara leaned against the wall near the entrance. “...Not like I have much of a choice, so start
talking.”
“Ever so delightful with your words. Very well.” The figure turned towards Cinarius, the raccoon
starting to drool. “This, here, WAS a member of The Slowcart Foundation. They tend to report
to…well…’reporting managers’. We keep tabs on them and make sure they can do their job
correctly.”
“Unfortunately,” the figure continued, giving a light pat on Cinarius’ head. “Our fair fellow here
failed to do his job correctly. And thus, he has been terminated by The Slowcart Foundation.
BUT! We are a forgiving organization and I…am somewhat similar to a ‘reporting manager’
myself. So, we’re giving him a bit of a…mmm…let’s call it a ‘rework’. A ‘do-over’. I’m unsure
what the lasting effects will be on his mind, but I’m sure if we just take a couple of memories and
thoughts out, he’ll be good as new.”
“...You’re sick.” Kishara spat once again.
“Ohhh!” The figure pressed its free hand against its chest, as they spoke with feigned sorrow. “A
dagger through my heart! To have been insulted by the princess of Kapsia! However, shall I go
on? I shan't be able to sleep tonight!”
“But, please.” It continued. “If I worried about what others had thought all this time, I would not
be where I am today. And I am quite forgiving, after all. Even those that fail…” The figure pat the
back of Cinarius rather roughly, the raccoon letting out a whine. “...deserve a chance at
redemption.”
“And that concludes my little introduction. Or, at least what you need to know, princess. And I
finish this, with an offer.”
Kishara tilted her head. “What could you possibly have to give me?”
The figure smiled. Or at least, it appeared to smile, as its many shifting faces bared their teeth in
a leer in unison. “A job.”
“Shove it up-” Kishara replied.
“Ahhh, but let me finish. See, things are about to get…interesting.” The figure tilted its head.
“The prince is gone from the kingdom and has stirred up quite a lot of trouble, especially with
the foundation and with Serval. Now, with the head of the snake having not been cut off, but
merely…gone, no one will know how to proceed. The nation will scramble and run around with
wild abandon, trying to figure out its next move. Serval…my, Serval has always been a problem
with its mercenaries. So useful, yet so unreliable at the same time. A real powder keg, ready to
blow, wouldn’t you say?”
“...You’re not talking about war, right?” Kishara narrowed her eyes.
The figure reached inside its robe, producing a coin that it flicked off its changing appendages,
the piece of gold striking one of the stained glass windows. Glass shattered, as a perfectly
round hole appeared in the window. “Perhaps! But conflict is the great engine for money, money,
money! And with gold, you can do so much. Buy lives. Change lives. Take them away. And no
matter how this goes, someone’s pockets will be lined with cash.”
The figure then stood, grasping Cinarius by the collar, as he led them down the stairs. “So, I
offer you not just a job. But I also offer you some…insurance.” The figure spoke as it walked
with Cinarius to the entryway. “Insurance that comes with a price, yes. Perhaps we would like to
have you in our employment as a little trophy. A ‘piece of power’, if you will. One that may sway
the tide between Kapsia and Serval and especially if Wodford comes into play. One never
knows how unpredictable Lady Bethany Eg’s court is. And perhaps with our backing, you can
help save the lives of your people. Much less your own.”
Kishara stared at the figure. “...I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, that’s fine. When one receives a life-changing offer such as that, it is common for one to
think about it.” The figure stepped towards Kishara, as she bared her fangs. “Easy now, my
dear. I merely am here to give you something, so you can mull it over. Think of it as a gift.” The
figure reached inside its robes again, pulling out something, holding it between its digits.
Kishara cautiously stepped forward, holding out her handpaw, as the figure placed the item in
her padded palm. As she looked at it, she gasped. A similar blue ring with golden thorn-like
engravings, with sigils on the inner band rested in her hand.
“And think of my little job offer, as not just employment, but as protection.” The figure smiled
again, with all of its leering smiles, across its ever-changing face.