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14thDay of Nova

128thI.E.

Arion raced up the stairs of the Citadel with purpose, his open robe fluttering behind him as he ducked and darted through the squat dwarven building. Dwarves rushed to get out of his way, fearing they would go unnoticed and be trampled by the large furred being. After all, to a dwarf an ursar was a giant, and no one wanted to be stomped on by their large, ursine feet.

_This can't be happening. It's impossible! Come on Arion, get a grip on yourself!_The ursar thought as he pressed his thick paws against the door to the Highlord's chambers. He had to hold himself back when he pushed it open to prevent from ripping the thick iron door off its hinges.

The room had a high enough ceiling that Arion could stand up and his hair would brush up against the roof. The chamber was extravagant, with plush furniture around the room, book cases full of thick, leather bound tomes, a large red carpet with gold trim covering the majority of the floor, and heavy, elegant lace drapes over the window to a wide balcony that over-looked the city. A larger armchair sat in the corner against the room, its soft surface unmarred by use. It was reserved for Arion's use, but he rarely took to sitting in it.

Across the room, the Highlord of the Lightweaver's Citadel, Gantors Glowinglight, turned to regard the ursar. He was busy examining a map on the wall behind a solid oak desk. The dwarf was frowning. No one barged into the Highlord's room unannounced. None dared to, except Arion. He was the only one who commanded the Highlord's respect to a degree that such an intrusion would be allowed. Such was the benefit afforded by two old war veterans.

The Highlord wore simple military fatigues, gray in color with a silvery-white trim. The sleeves stretched to contain the considerable girth of his arms and barrel chest. He had a regal, golden cloak draped off his back that flowed down to his thick ankles. It matched the color of his set of full plate armor set up on an armor rack next to the desk. The metal gleamed in the sunlight, casting reflections of light around the room. He had a balding ring of orange hair that matched a long beard that covered most of his chest.

"I know ye love that robe o' yers, but could you at least put a tunic on once in a while or close it if yer going to continue breaking into my room?" Gantors said, twirling a bit of his mustache as a phantom of a grin began to form. "I don't want to see yer bare chest all the time."

"What's this I hear about Xenaria falling?" Arion asked, his speech hurried.

Gantors blinked at the ursar, seemingly dazed by his sudden upset. "We received a report from Mithril Port that a large number of refugees are flooding in from Yasuragi."

He strolled over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper that sat on top before he handed it off to Arion. "We're not entirely certain who attacked Xenaria or what happened, but as an ally to the ursar, the Council has decided to welcome the refugees and shelter them."

"Awfully generous of the Council, considering they threatened to exile my order from Olaraa not too long ago," Arion replied coldly.

"Politicians change their colors more often than th' seasons," Gantors replied with a shrug.

Arion scanned the paper that was handed to him. The refugees were reporting a gigantic fleet of ships that had bombarded the cities, destroying Xenaria's harbor and forcing the civilians to flee further down the coast to a smaller port to escape Yasuragi. Their recounts of the attackers once they reached the land were a mix of races, including orcs, minotaur, humans, elves, and gnolls. Arion growled, setting the paper down on Gantors' desk. "I need to go help them."

"No, yer place is here in Olaraa. We need ye to lead the Peacekeepers. It's going to get a lot busier around here."

"Let one of my students take care of things, I need to help my people."

"Ye can't keep dumping yer work on yer students. Ye did that enough when ye fought wit' us in Evergloom. Besides, why would ye wanna help those folks anyways? They be the people who exiled you so many years ago, are they not?" Gantors asked, stroking his beard. "Would they so readily welcome the help of an exile?"

"That's none of your concern, dwarf!" Arion roared. "I don't care what Empress Erosie thought of my actions, I did what I thought was best by coming to Olaraa's aid. Or have you forgotten the sacrifices my students and I made for your sakes?" He could feel his heart beating in his throat. Arion was not used to getting so angry, but the dwarf had hit a sore spot at a time when he was already agitated.

"I did nae forget, Arion. Did ye? Do yer fellow ursar feel the same way as ye do? Do they also think ye did the right thing?" Gantors yelled back, matching the large beastman in volume.

Arion opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by someone speaking behind him.

"Now now, what's all this shouting about?" a female voice said. Arion recognized who it belonged to: Helga Glowinglight. She stood behind him in the doorway to Gantors' chambers, leaning on the frame. She had a round, stout body and a fair face that was free of blemishes. Her brown hair was braided and twisted into a bun. Helga was the head priest of the Lightweaver's Citadel, and her flowing white and golden robes signified that position of importance. She strode across the room, her footfalls hardly making a sound as she walked. "Please, stay here in Olaraa, dear Arion. There's no need to be so brash. Even if you left now, it's sad to say that Xenaria has already fallen. You need to be here to help us protect your kin when they arrive. Haste makes waste. That is what your Order teaches, isn't it?"

Arion's shoulders slackened, and he sighed. "Yes, you're right." He turned to face Gantors once again. "My apologies, Highlord. Was Yasuragi the only place that was attacked by this army?"

"Not that I be aware of, but it'll be some time before we hear back from any o' them. So far Xenaria is the only one to have been hit." He moved over to a map showing the five major continents and the islands between them. Yasuragi was situated just off the southwest shore of Muriaj, the largest central continent.

"Do we know who attacked?" Helga asked, "Or where the attack came from?"

"No. Ye saw the report. Too many different races."

"Yes, that's troubling, but at least it tells us who didn't attack," Helga said.

"Who?"

"No major nation has a melting pot of a military like that."

Arion cut in. "If there's gnolls there, then it was definitely from one of the southern countries on Jha'zal. It would explain the humans and elves if you look at the kingdom of Altair."

"We've already been in contact wit' Altair," Gantors told him, "They know nothing o' this invasion, and we've already sent an inspection team t' verify their claims. Not to mention Altair would never work with the gnolls after all the raids on their farmlands in recent years."

"So where does that leave us?" Arion asked.

Helga crossed her arms and leaned against Gantors' desk. "It excludes the Freedom Coalition, and most likely the Trade Union to the south. I also don't recall the Golden Alliance on Buselna having any gnolls among their numbers. And if Lokivar were to attack, they likely wouldn't waste time with Xenaria."

"True, ye have a point there. Though, can we so easily rule out any cooperation from Valar, Rogust, or Kitair?" Gantors paused to let the thought sink in. Arion had to agree that it was a possibility, but he was sure that just like with Altair, Gantors had already begun to look into things to make sure the Coalition had no hand in the attack.

"At any rate," the paladin continued, "I'm going to try and send some scouts over to the Isle and see what we can learn. I don't like being in the dark in situations like this. I suspect things will only get more troubling from here on out." Gantors let out a yawn and scratched the back of his head. "Either way, I'm bushed. It's been much too busy today and tomorrow will only be worse once the refugees start making their way through our gates."

Helga moved over to Gantors and ran her hand through his hair and cupped the side of his head. "Get some rest then, love. I'm going to be up for a little while longer to get the infirmary ready for the injured." She planted a kiss on his cheek before leaving the room.

Coughing awkwardly, Arion turned his head to the side and said, "If you will excuse me, I have some urgent matters to attend to." He bowed and then left the room.

"Bartholomew's back in town," Gantors called out after him as he left.

Arion stopped mid stride and looked back at him. "Why would his return be of any consequence to me?"

"Ye been askin' 'bout him every couple months now," Gantors said pointedly. "Ye've met him once an' that was ten years ago. Either yer still concerned 'bout him or yer too nosey fer yer own good. Now, which is it?"

"Or there's a third reason: I no longer care."

"Nonsense, ye've got care spewing from yer pores," Gantors accused. "Yer itchin' ta talk ta him an' get him outta the military, right?"

Arion gave a shrug of his shoulders. "What is it to you, Highlord?"

"Curiosity, my friend. He won't change his mind no matter how much ye push him."

"Is that so?" he said, trying to act uninterested. He figured the dwarf saw through the façade, as he started walking away.

As he headed down the stairs, Arion crashed into Odinty after rounding a bend. Both ursar toppled to the ground, and nearby dwarves scuttled out of the way before they were crushed by the furry behemoths. Arion landed hard on his tail bone, and he rubbed his lower back as he stood up.

"I'm not going to be sitting right for a while." He winced as he moved to help Odinty to his feet. "I'm sorry about that. I hadn't seen you coming."

"No, it's my fault. The Highlord is always telling me to stop running through the Citadel," Odinty admitted, taking the paw offered to him and standing as well. "It is good to see you again, though it's a shame you're not here on something more mundane. You heard the news about Yasuragi, huh?"

"Aye, I did. That's why I was here to ask Ganto- I mean, the Highlord about it."

The two of them began walking side by side down the hallways as they talked. Each of them was oblivious to the smaller beings trying to squeeze past their bulky frames.

"I didn't get the chance to properly thank you for finding Fyrin," Odinty stopped and bowed low, holding the pose, "I wanted to apologize for his actions."

Arion was surprised by the other ursar's actions. Though Xenarian society was very polite, he wasn't used to someone apologizing for another individual's behaviour. He placed a paw on Odinty's shoulders and said, "There's no need for you to apologize for him. It is not your burden to bear his sins."

"Still," Odinty glanced aside and bit at his lower lip. "I feel bad being that he's my twin. I should share some of the responsibility."

"Odinty, you both may look alike, but that doesn't mean you both need to carry the same burdens."

"Even still, I feel I need to make up for it," Odinty said, and began walking again. "I want him to rejoin the Order but I also understand that what he did was horrible. Have you given it any thought?"

Arion was silent as he thought. He sighed and said, "I have thought about it Odinty, but right now I think there's more important things to deal with. Sionache was right, we need to forgive Fyrin and give him a second chance, and I'm willing to do that. But right now, the Order has to focus on other things. I'm sorry."

Odinty hung his head down, his muzzle touching his chest. "It's fine. I understand," he said in a low voice.

Arion placed a paw on Odinty's back. "I'm truly sorry, but I wouldn't have the time to properly work with Fyrin now." He rubbed the ursar's back then pulled his paw away. "Where are you headed right now?"

Odinty's face brightened a little at the change of topic. "I'm headed for the armory for my equipment."

"Why? Is Olaraa mobilizing Her army already?"

"No, but I'm going to go to Mithril Port and help the refugees there. I want them to see that there's ursar they can depend upon to get them through this rough patch in their lives."

"You're going there in a full suit of armor with a sword strapped to your back, as the son of an exile," Arion pointed out. "Nothing about that will be comforting to those people."

Odinty nodded his head in affirmation. "I know. I know all that. But still I want to go. I miss Yasuragi, even though I only knew it for a short time. I never had enough time to make any friends there. I've known only the Peacekeepers and most of them are much older than I. But even still, I need to go. I have my healing magics, so I can at least help them. I can't handle sitting around here doing nothing."

"I understand. I can't join you so go in my stead and with my blessing," Arion said and smiled at him. "Just come back in one piece, and don't do anything rash."

The ursar paladin gave him a smile and said, "Thank you, Master Arion. I'd best get ready. If you'll excuse me."

Arion bid him farewell, and hoped that whatever he was thinking he'd find in Mithril Port would be less soul crushing than he expected it would be.

The next day, Arion headed towards the southern gates to watch as the refugees began pouring into the city. He climbed up the ladder to get up onto the ramparts, looking to get a better view. To his surprise, he saw another ursar standing watch on the wall, with a loaded crossbow in his hands.

He must be on guard duty.

Bart was an ursar orphan that had been left in Olaraa decades ago. He had been born in Olaraa, and his parents were murdered in the streets. Gantors had told Arion that Bart's birth parents were priests looking to establish a temple in the capital to provide medical aid to the people. After they died, the Republic decided it would be best to give Bart over to a foster family and be done with it, rather than sending the cub across the sea back to Yasuragi.

The ursar had grown up in an abusive environment, and had an abrasive personality. He always smelled of alcohol and smokes, and much like Fyrin, Bart delighted in the violence he found on the battle field.

Bart leaned up against the crenelations to peer over the side of the wall. He growled menacingly at the ursar refugees, then smirked and chuckled to himself as he watched their reactions.

Arion strolled over to where he stood. "Why do you do that to our people, Bartholomew?"

Bart jumped at the sudden intrusion, and spun to face Arion. "They're yer people, monk." Arion noted that he didn't address him by name, but was unsurprised.

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Arion strolled over to the wall's edge so he could look down at the ursar refugees entering the city. A few in the crowd looked up at him and showed signs of recognition. Arion's appearance was met with hard looks and scowls.

"Seems I ain't the only one who can't stand ye," Bart chuckled, "S'pose they ain't all that bad."

"I'm an exile. They dislike me for reasons that are very different from yours." Arion looked to his side to stare at Bart. "Why do you resent the ursar so much? To the best of my recollection, I was the first one you'd ever met."

"Why do ye care?" Bart snapped. Arion could hear the ursar's leather gloves squeaking. Bart was tightening his grip on the crossbow.

"To be completely honest, I'm curious. If you'll forgive me for saying so, I find you to be enigmatic in terms of your behaviour and beliefs,"Arion admitted. He knew that Bart was irate already, but he acted like he hadn't noticed. He didn't want to goad the other ursar into doing something stupid.

"Why don't ye read me thoughts an' find out fer yerself, ye damned mind-reader!"

Arion's brow furrowed with worry and he looked down at the stone he rested his hands on. "That was a one time thing..." he mumbled into his chest. Arion had only once read Bart's mind, and that had been on the very first day they had met. He'd regretted the decision ever since, but Gantors had urged him into doing it, to learn the truth behind why Bart would never join the Order of Peacekeepers.

The monk perked up a little and smiled weakly at him. "I don't like to do that to people, unless its absolutely necessary. Besides, I would much rather hear you tell me. I find talking to people to be relaxing."

"Will ye leave me alone if I tell ye?" Bart said, a bitter tone dripping in his voice.

"If you'd like."

"Yea, I would." He paused for a moment and took a long, deep breath. Arion waited patiently for him to start, and stared out into the distance at the sea of ursar shuffling towards Olaraa. "I don't hate the ursar, not anymore than I hate anyone else. I jus' can't stand other people, whether they be dwarf or ursar or any other race."

"But you can stand the company of other men and women when you go to one of those burlesque houses at night, so how can you say you can't stand other people?"

Bart's eyes flashed with anger. "I answered your question."

"You did, but I think you're not telling me the whole truth," Arion said matter-of-factly. He watched the other ursar's motions carefully, noting that he wasn't looking at him as he spoke.

Enraged, Bart let out a roar and leveled his crossbow on Arion. A chorus of screams erupted from the ground below as onlookers watched the altercation unfolding. "Git out o' me head! I've heard o' yer kind before, always scheming and manipulating people ta suit yer own needs. I won't let ye do the same ta me!"

Arion remained calm as he stared at Bart, watching him breathe heavily with bits of drool hanging from his muzzle. "You're not like any other ursar I've met before, that's for sure." He let out a sigh before continuing, carefully choosing his next few words "I'm not in your head, Bartholomew. I haven't read your thoughts since the first day we met all those years ago. I've trained myself to have more restraint so I don't carelessly hear what others are thinking." Arion stood up straight and crossed his arms behind his back. "I knew you were lying, or at least, only telling me a half-truth because of a shift in your posture as you spoke and your inability to maintain eye contact."

Bart snarled, and Arion pondered why he was getting more angry with him. Wouldn't he have been more angry if he didn't know the truth?

"I want ta believe yer lyin'. But I know better. Why th' fuck do I know that!?" he yelled.

There was a slight pause as the monk stared at him. "You really don't know anything about your heritage, do you?" Arion saw him in a new light. Did Bartholomew not know anything about his race? Was he unaware of their natural empathy? It dawned on Arion that perhaps this was the ultimate cause for Bart's problems. All of the negativity that had surrounded him would have likely fed into itself through his empathy, and uncontrolled, it would only fester and grow within him.

"What are ye talkin' about?"

On a hunch, Arion asked, "Tell me, what do you feel?"

"Why should I?"

"Humor me."

Bart clutched his forehead and winced as Arion picked up a slight twitch in his left eye. "Anger an' lots o' confusion. An' I can feel their fear," he said, referring to the refugees below.

"Xenarians are gifted," Arion explained. "We're natural empaths. We can feel the emotions and feelings of those around us. That's why you can feel other people's fear, or my confusion, or even the hatred that others direct at you."

"Make it stop!" Bart snapped, "I hate feelin' it!" He cluthced at his head with his paws and groaned in pain.

Arion shook his head sadly. "You can't make it stop. All you can do is learn to cope with it, and to shut out the emotions of others. But they'll always be there, lingering on the periphery of your mind. Do you want me to help you? I can train you."

"Why does it hurt?" He snarled through gritted teeth. Arion tried to step closer to him, but Bart wouldn't allow it. "Get away from me!"

"Whatever you're feeling is feeding into itself. You're sensing your own confusion and its making you more confused."

Arion bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about what to do. He could feel the torrent of emotions that were swirling around in Bart's head. It was impossible for him to shut out the sensation. Knowing that Bart couldn't possibly continue to function the way he was, Arion closed his eyes and focused on what he wanted the other ursar to feel: determination and the resolve to work through his problems.

With a firm and commanding voice, Arion said, "Focus Bartholomew. Focus only on the sound of my voice. Block out everything except for my words. Focus on the one feeling you _want_to feel. Filter out what doesn't belong to you and grab hold of whatever is left."

Despite his best efforts to help Bart, Arion could only feel the anger and animosity growing in intensity. He feared that the ursar would be consumed by his rage and would attack, and he mentally prepared himself in the event that he would have to subdue him.

"Leave me alone!" Bart let out a primal roar that startled the refugees below and his fellow guardsmen along the walls. The sound reverberated in Arion's chest, and he swallowed a lump growing in his throat. He braced himself for Bart to strike, but after a moment, nothing happened.

Arion's face wrinkled with worry. He regarded Bartholomew one last time and asked, "Are you okay?"

After a moment, Bart straightened himself out and spat on the ground. "Ye said ye'd leave me alone if I answered your questions."

"That I did. Take care, Bartholomew." Arion walked away from Bart, away from the gate, then leaped down off the side before heading back towards his temple.

As Arion strode through the Peacekeeper's temple gates, he strolled past the training yard where many of his order were going through their forms and practicing their martial arts. It was meditative, and it kept them in shape for combat. Chances were good that they were going to need their skills once again. After two wars, the Peacekeepers were prepared for whatever would come their way, especially if the gnolls were involved.

"Master Arion," Sionache called out. Arion looked over his shoulder to see the cub running over to him. "Is everything okay?"

Before answering her, he walled off his mind so she couldn't read his thoughts. "Everything is fine, Sionache, but I'm a bit busy right now." Arion knelt down and ruffled the cub's hair. "It's a nice day today, why don't you go outside into the courtyard and train with some of the others? How about Shinn?" Arion smiled, remembering how the ursar had complained about training with Sionache. "I bet you're not as fast as him."

"Aw, but he's not as much fun as you are! And he's always so grouchy. But, if you say so Master!" Sionache nodded her head emphatically. "I'll see you later!" She waved as her bare paw pads slapped the tiled floor with every step.

Arion watched Sionache as she ran to find Shinn. He wished he could remember a time when he was that carefree and could smile without any worry. Even though Sionache was younger than most of his graduates, she had already proven herself worthy of being ready for combat, thanks to her powerful psionic abilities. That meant she could fight alongside and protect her parents, the people she held most dear. He only hoped that her participation in the coming war would not dull the sweet innocence she exuded.

He looked up, and saw the balcony that extended from his chambers. Not feeling like taking the stairs up, he focused his mind on the ground below him. He imagined himself pushing it down, and slowly his body levitated off the ground and up into the air. Arion could see the entire courtyard where his students trained and into the cloister where members of his order meditated next to a marble fountain.

Why can't we all enjoy this kind of peace? Why do we need to have wars?

Arion grabbed the metal railings and hoisted himself onto the balcony, letting gravity once again take over as his paws touched the ground. The silken curtains fluttered in the breeze and parted wide enough to allow Arion to step inside unimpeded. He took his robe off and cast it aside, but instead of it falling to the ground, it floated over as he exerted his telekinesis and placed it on a hook on the wall beside his bed. He laid down, draped a furred arm over his face, and closed his eyes.

It's been a long day, he thought. Though he put on a stoic exterior when he was around most people, everything slowly wore him down. He was only thirty-three seasons old, and he simply wasn't ready to handle all the demands he expected of himself. Barely a tenth of his lifespan had passed, and he still had plenty to learn, yet no one to teach him. He was the oldest in his order, but only by a couple years, and many of his students were even less experienced than him when it came to practicing stoicism.

A soft voice calling his name from the other side of the shoji roused him from his thoughts, and when he opened his eyes he saw orange light pouring in from the window as the sun rose to the east. He hadn't even realized that he'd drifted off and slept through the afternoon.

I must have been more tired than I originally thought.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. The voice called out again, this time a little louder, and Arion responded, "Who is it?"

"Master Arion, you have visitors."

Visitors? Is it Gantors or Helga? Arion thought, Who would be coming to see me at a time like this?

He got out of bed and slipped into his robe, then double checked his sash to ensure it was cinched tightly. "Send them in."

The shoji slid open, and Arion's mouth dropped open when three familiar looking ursar stepped into the room. He hadn't seen them in years, but he still recognized his family when he saw them. His father Daris Clothspinner, his mother Aida, and his older sister Keri walked into the room looking worn out and haggard from their journey across the sea. When they saw him standing there, staring back at them, all weariness seemed to fade as they smiled at him.

Daris was a large, round ursar with fur as white as the snow capped peaks of Mount Tsuki. His smile was warm, and though he had deep bags beneath his silver eyes, they still burned with a love of life that he remembered his father having. His ears had a tendency to flick and swivel around as sounds occurred around him as h tried to hear everything as clearly as possible. Back home, Daris had been a tailor that brought in a fair amount of money, and the family had lived luxuriously because of it.

Aida on the other hand had black fur. She was shorter than her husband but just as round. Her hair was kept short, only going down the back of her neck and around her face. She was a house wife, and rarely helped Daris out in his shop. She helped in other ways, like keeping the house clean and ensuring that he always had a hot meal to come to. She was supportive of her husband and her children, but Arion doubted she would be very supportive of his choices in the last decade. Her fur had a dirty sheen to it that suggested to Arion that the journey to Olaraa was rough on her. She moved and acted like it didn't bother her though. She rolled with the difficulties life threw at her, and she was stronger because of it.

Keri looked like a combination of both her parents. She was tall like her father, and had black fur except on her muzzle and neck, which was white. She worked in the shop with Daris, as his apprentice, and before Arion left Yasuragi she had a number of clients of her own that she worked for. She kept her hair tied in a pony-tail, much like how Arion had his, but Keri let it grow down to her waist and braided it.

"Arion!" Aida strode forward and caught him off guard with a hug, and was joined a moment later by Keri. His father merely placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hello son."

"Hi father. Mother. Keri." Arion returned the hug, smiling. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Aida corrected. "We had no idea where you'd gone. You disappeared without warning, and then a year later we heard you were exiled!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she produced a handkerchief from a pocket in her blouse.

"When we got here though, we heard of a big ursar temple and we knew it had to be you." Daris finished for his wife.

Keri gave Arion one more big squeeze then pulled away. "It's good to see you again, baby brother."

Arion smirked at her. "I'm not a baby anymore."

"You are compared to me."

The last time Arion had seen his family was ten years ago, prior to leaving Yasuragi to aid the dwarves in the first Gnoll War. Even though it had been a long time since he'd seen his family, they were still the same as the day he'd left.

"I've missed you all," Arion said as his sister and mother finally released him from their embrace. His father stepped forward and gave Arion a hug as well, and he was taken aback. His father was never so forward about showing his affection towards him. He wasn't a cold man, but it was obvious that he was embarrassed of the love and affection he had for his male offspring, and so he kept his behaviour in check.

There was one other time that Daris physically connected with him, and that was when he wanted to share something in secret with Arion. It was a practice they had picked up when Arion was first discovering his telepathy.

Knowing this, Arion acted on that hunch and hoped he would not end up regretting it. He probed his father's mind. Considering the closeness he had to the man, reading his thoughts was as easy as reading a book.

<We need to talk, son.>

Arion had guessed right; the older ursar had wanted to convey something in private, and had done so in the only way he could think to do it. No doubt Aida and Keri would think it was just a display of affection brought on by the fact they hadn't seen Arion in so long, but he'd known better. It was a cue, one that said he had something to share that he didn't want his mother or sister hearing.

Arion responded, <Of course. I'll have someone escort mother and Keri away for the time being.>

"You must all be tired-" Arion began.

"And hungry," Keri blurted out as she wandered around the room, inspecting her brother's possessions. She picked up a book from Arion's nightstand, and tried in vain to open it. To Keri, the book seemed glued shut, but in truth it was being forced shut by an invisible, telekinetic force.

"Don't touch that," Arion said simply. He strode over to her and snatched the book from her hands. "It's private," he added after he set it back down.

Keri shrugged. "Whatever."

"Why don't the three of you go with my student and get some fresh clothes and a warm meal?" Arion suggested. He sent a message telepathically to Matsu, his personal attendant, letting him know about his plans. "Matsu is just outside and will take you to get cleaned up."

"Of course. We can talk later," Aida said with a nod. "I'm tired of these dirty rags anyways. I hope you have something nice that will fit. Well, of course if you don't, I could always just have Daris alter it to fit me..." his mother trailed off, muttering something to herself.

His sister hesitated as she reached the door. "Are you coming, father?"

"I'll be along in a bit," Daris said. He knew it could be a while before he would rejoin his wife and daughter. There was a lot he wanted to ask and inform Arion about. "Go on ahead." He motioned dismissively for her to go.

Arion sighed and took a seat on the edge of his bed. "They haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you. I hear you have friends in high places here, just like back home," Daris said, hinting at Arion's connections to the Highlord."How much authority do you have here? This is a dwarven city, after all. Their capital if I'm not mistaken."

"You aren't, and I have a lot more on my shoulders than I'm willing to handle to be honest." Arion breathed a heavy sigh. "My Order isn't formally part of the Olaraan Military, but we have certain obligations to fulfill in exchange for our refuge in the city. We participated in the Gnoll War on Jha'zal. I'm sure you already knew that."

"I did. We heard a few snippets here and there about where you went," Daris confirmed.

"Well, after that there was a second attempt at invading Olaraa, from within. And we participated in that one, too. But that invasion was kept under wraps. Most of the citizenry is unaware that it even happened because it happened in Evergloom." His father looked at him, confused. "It's a cursed forest the gnolls were using as an invasion point from within Olaraa's borders."

"So that's your obligation? Fighting for the dwarves at their beck and call?" Daris said, the derision as plain as the scowl on his face.

"Yeah, but we've helped turn things around because of it!" Arion said, sounding more defensive than he had intended to. "If we hadn't come to the dwarves' aid, they might have lost... and then Olaraa would have belonged to the gnolls."

"It's alright. I understand... even if I don't agree with your choices."

Nodding his head, Arion continued as he did his best to calm himself down."Care to tell me what happened in Xenaria? I assume you wanted Keri and mother away so they wouldn't have to relive it?"

"You're right, of course." Daris wasted no time in getting to the meat of the issue. "The day the fishermen spotted the ships off shore, we had no idea what to make of it. Xenaria had not been the site of a war in centuries, not since Hanzo's armies drove the Gnolls off the island. Our confusion was quickly ended when their cannons were fired. Everything was hit, our harbor, the market place. Not even the residential areas were spared from the slaughter. You remember Captain Timo?"

"Aye, I remember him well. He's the one that gave me that ship me and my Order took to Jha'zal." Captain Timo was old when Arion was still a cub. The ursar had at one point been the captain of a rather prestigious fishing vessel. He'd been retired when Arion knew him, and Timo was a close friend of the Clothspinner family, being their next door neighbor.

"His house was one of the ones that were hit first. If it weren't for that, myself and your mother and sister may not have gotten out of there either. Our house was struck only minutes after Timo's was ablaze."

Arion swallowed hard. He'd learned a lot from Timo when he was a cub, like how to fish and how to man a ship. He learned patience while out on their fishing expeditions together. To learn that he'd died was a sharp blow. Losing the homeland was bad enough. Losing close friends was like a twist of the knife.

"Who attacked?" Arion asked, blinking the tears out of his eyes.

"They called themselves the Shadow Legion. We heard them chanting along with war drums as they came off their ships and poured into the city." Daris' eyes lost their sheen and glazed over. "We ran, the three of us. We didn't stop to help anyone. What could we do? We weren't fighters. Our entire country was brought to its knees in a single day because we had no real military to speak of."

"They didn't want to parley?"

"No. They attacked and didn't stop until the city was wiped out. The only thing anyone could do was rush to get as many people off the island as quickly as possible. We were fortunate that the ships at Jikaruta hadn't been destroyed yet, otherwise we may not have made it."

"You didn't think to flee to Kyouko? The Bushido empire?" Arion said. The Bushido were a schism of ursar that followed a different path from the teachings of Xen. They believed in strength and honor, and their ideals clashed with Xen's ideas of total pacifism. They weren't on good terms with Xenaria, but there was no reason they wouldn't take in any refugees in the event of an attack.

"We thought about it, but we didn't know how fast the enemy ships were. The captain of our ship decided Olaraa would be our safest bet. Some people did flee to Kyouko though, from what I heard," Daris said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We were fortunate the enemy didn't chase us. I'm honestly surprised they haven't already attacked. Why would they delay after such a swift victory?"

"They must be sweeping the island and pillaging what they can from it to fuel their war machine. But, why would this Shadow Legion do this in the first place? It doesn't make sense to waste resources on attacking Xenaria. Unless it's because of the gnolls?"

"I'm sure that had something to do with it."

Arion growled, feeling the anger boil within him as his chest rumbled. The beasts had enslaved and oppressed the ursar for generations when the two races had shared Yasuragi, back when the ursar were nothing more than a nomadic society. It was because of the Hanzo family and their leader, Hattori Hanzo, that the Ursar were able to unite and strike back at the Gnolls. The grudge between the Xenarian ursar and the displaced Gnolls ran deep, and even to this day the two races hated each other, though the Ursar would never act on it. Most of them wouldn't, anyways.

Arion and his Order were the exception, a silent majority within Xenarian culture. Many people weren't pleased with Empress Erosie's ideals of total pacifism, one that had been passed down since her great-great grandfather Emperor Buran had taken the throne. It was those people that had joined Arion in his quest to help the dwarves during the Gnoll War. The Empress had been cold and turned them away when they asked for aid, but when Arion had peered into the dwarven ambassador's mind, he saw the horrors the gnolls had unleashed on Olaraa.

It was enough to motivate him to go against the Empress's wishes and aid Olaraa.

"Is something the matter, Arion?" Daris asked after a moment of silence.

"No, just thinking. I'd best confer with the Highlord about this new information. It should help us deduce what is happening." Arion stood up from his bed and stretched. "If the Gnolls have any hand in it, then Olaraa will be next. We'd best be ready."

"What makes you so sure the enemy will attack Olaraa?" Daris asked.

"The gnolls tried twice before to invade Olaraa, and failed, and if the enemy seeks conquest of any sort, they'd want to annihilate the dwarves for being some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. It only makes sense."

"I hope that you're wrong, if only for Olaraa's sake. I wish I could be of more help, but I'm nothing more than a tailor," his father said with a heavy sigh. He looked up at Arion and smiled. "But you've made me proud son. Please keep doing what you think is best, and we'll support you along the way as best as we can."

"Thank you father," Arion said. His face felt hot beneath his black and white fur. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a bit, I need to speak with the Highlord, and I'm sure mother is wondering where you are." He moved to the balcony and lifted one foot paw onto the railing before he paused. "Does she still worry like that?" he asked.

"All. The. Time." Daris replied in mock exacerbation.

"Right." Arion chuckled, then leaped off the balcony with a front flip and landing softly on the ground below. His father only shook his head and left his son's chambers to meet up again with Aida and Keri.

* * * * *

The wind whipped past Fippy as he walked through the fields of tall grass. The ground was almost unnaturally green, and it rose up to his elbows. He carried Opalla's thin, frail body in his arms. She had passed away earlier that morning, and she still had a smile on her muzzle from the time she stepped foot on Splitpaw.

The image of the location of the Darkpaw's ancestral burial grounds was fresh in Fippy's mind. Opalla had shared it with him before she passed, making sure he knew where to take her body.

Fippy came to a stop in the middle of the field. There was nothing to mark it's location. He knew that this was the spot Opalla had told him about. The gravestones that had once marked the burial site were destroyed, leaving behind nothing but weathered rock in their place.

While the rest of his tribe were making preparations to board the ships to head for Olaraa, Fippy had snuck away to fulfill Opalla's final wish. There would be no grand ceremony, no crowds of people. Just him and his Greatmother.

Fippy set the body down on a bed of grass before he got onto all fours and began to dig feverishly. He didn't have a lot of time, but fortunately his undead strength allowed him to plow through the earth with ease. In a few short moments, he had a shallow, three feet deep hole in the ground and a mound of dirt behind him. He picked up Opalla's body and set it within the dirt.

Muttering a short prayer in Gnollish, Fippy set to work burying the gnoll. Each handful of dirt he piled onto Opalla carried with it a bit of his grief, until by the time he was done, he felt nothing. He stood over the grave and drew his sword before planting it firmly into the ground above where her head would be. He drove the blade down nearly to the hilt, using it as a makeshift gravestone.

"You gave me a portion of your soul so that I may live life as a ghoul instead of a mindless undead, so that I might continue to look after you even after my life was stolen from me. I swear upon your grave, Greatmother, that I shall get revenge on the worthless bear for what he did to us and our tribe." Fippy stood silent for a moment. He could see the wind blowing through the grass, and he longed to be able to feel it ruffling his fur. He took a deep breath, but he could not smell anything, and he could not get rid of the burning, suffocating feeling that constantly gripped his chest.

"There is nothing left but my anger," Fippy said. "I will see to it that the bear and his ilk pay for everything they have done."

Fippy turned and started walking away. He gave one final, longing gaze at the grave before he dropped down and sprinted across the plains on all fours.