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The next morning came with surprising haste, the sun's rays stirring Durris from his sleep with an unpleased groan. He rubbed his wrist against his eye and looked out his window, seeing that the sun had already risen to a late morning elevation. A bit stiff from having slept in his uniform, Durris inched to the side of his bed and sat there, stretching and yawning aloud as his heavy eyes still wanted for more rest. Despite having apparently gotten plenty of rest, he still felt as though he was needing a few hours, along with another itch behind his plates that faded eventually as Durris forced himself up. The smooth stone walls felt cool against his padded hand, Durris running it against the wall as he walked down the short hallway to his dining room and began his normal routine. He pulled a smooth metal cup from a cupboard, and set it down on the marble counter, starting to rummage through another cupboard. As he pulled a large cylinder from its place, he jumped back in shock as an atka let out a frightened shriek and jumped down, scampering off and sending Durris onto his rear, holding his heart from being so suddenly surprised. He picked himself up and made chase, running around his house and trying to catch the little beast as it cried and squeaked in terror of its predator. Following it into his bedroom, Durris cornered the thing as it hopped onto his bed sheets, hiding under them and going still as if trying to conceal itself. The tactic failed, as Durris reached under swiftly and grabbed the small creature by its stomach. It shrieked and squealed and clawed at Durris' paw desperately for release. It got what it wanted, though not in the way it had probably hoped. Durris opened his window and after giving the creature a spiteful and just plain annoyed look, he threw it outside and onto the ground a couple yards off. At first, the beast was stunned, lying still upon the grass. Then it twitched, and in no time, sprang back to life and scurried off, its small legs dragging its scaly underbelly across the ground swiftly and out of sight within moments.

The morning's surprise now over, Durris shut the window tight and returned to the dining room, seeing the container which he'd removed now spilled across the floor, the ground bits of grains and nuts scattered all over. Durris let out a discontented grunt and planted his face squarely into one of his paws, sighing deeply as he realized what sort of day it was going to be. While it didn't take long to clean the mess the small intruder had made, Durris was now out of his usual breakfast. With a look of slight terror, he peered back into the cupboard and saw his prize, although "prize" might not have been the correct term. As he held the jar in his hand and shook it about, he thought on what its contents were, exactly.

"Well Mahr, I guess you win this round, too. Now I have to swallow this, this... whatever it is and go without a proper meal... thanks." Removing the lid, Durris put the jar to his nose and took a quick sniff of the contents, pulling back almost immediately when he caught the scent. Ground herbs of numerous kinds, all fragrant with their own unique scents that did not seem to mix well. Why Mahr ever thought Durris would ever drink this stuff was beyond the poor Qes, but as it was, he had little choice. He poured water into his cup and shook a modest amount of the ground mixture into it, stirring it a bit before taking an experimental taste. Right away, Durris recognized part of the taste.

"Bits of kalma root? The "third barrel"?! Are you insane, Reten?! This stuff is used to make the "Five Barrel Salvo" down at Vhallen's. Can't believe I trusted you on this... Forget it! Might as well... got nothing better to have at this point..."

Rather unhappily, Durris slowly forced down the beverage bit by bit. By the end of his glass, however, he noticed an odd feeling. Or rather, a lack of one. He was full, no longer craving anything. One glass did all that... Durris was stunned. He still had an unpleasant after taste for a while, but was stunned. Feeling satisfied for the time being, he cleaned himself up and exited his home. Upon thinking his day might not be so bad, he removed the cover from his cruiser and stood disheartened and morose. Missing from the center panel of his vehicle was the ignition core, an essential and expensive component that had effectively been absconded with and hijacked. Letting out a cry of frustration that sounded more like a howl, Durris hung his head and growled, digging his claws into his palms in anger. Resigned to his fate and seeing no point in standing there angry, the frustrated Legate made his way on foot to the barracks, his mind buzzing with what he'd do if he heard even one wise crack from his unit. The trend of misfortune and frustration spiraled from there, beginning with Durris' superior chewing him out rather loudly for being late and having let his cruiser be vandalized. After that, he was sent out to the Erima District, a residential area several miles out of away where Durris had to first settle a domestic dispute between a couple of drunk Sens who'd been fighting over a tavern's female proprietor and causing trouble, and then had to fight them off and physically drag them back part way to the barracks for detention and processing when the passed out. Once that chore had been finished, he was sent out again to deal with a harassment complaint, from Inerra's Floral shop of all places. The matter was resolved easily enough, the harasser being given a strict warning and a sound crack between his plates with the butt of Durris' sidearm. The trouble there started when Inerra stopped to talk to the Legate, asking if he was alright and if he'd like to come in for a few minutes for a beverage and a chance to relax. Having to decline and hide his inability to ask the lovely woman out on a date, Durris walked away professionally, calmly, not looking back and rounded a corner... where he proceeded to knock his head against a wall several times and quietly sobbed by himself for several minutes.

Collecting himself and shaking off his grief, he made his was slowly back to the barracks and his office, trying to enjoy the walk back as he looked upon the buildings and lights of the city. Banners of wealthy clans flapping in the breeze upon railings of multi-story homes, gardens and trees set up and stretching across the housing complexes, moss hanging down over the sides of small bridges that dotted the topside park above the dwellings. Yellow and green lights from the Otar bulbs glowing softly in the shade as they hung from vines and small roots that hung on the sides of the polished metal and stone structures, outshone by the Beacon that gleamed and flashed brilliantly in the sunlight that hit the monolithic tower in the center of the city. Truly, the cities were not like the towns of the Shades at all. Natural beauty blended with modern architecture and civilization flawlessly, as opposed to the rougher and less sophisticated settlements below the mighty Vel' niera trees that shaded the people's world.

Once Durris had finally returned to the barracks, he sat down in his office, scratched at that same spot behind his neck again, and let out a sigh of relief. His shift, after a long day of trouble and grunt work, had finally come to a close. That's what he thought, the moment before a Guardsman knocked on his door and relayed a message from the requisition and allocation division, which most just called the mail room. The Guardsman saluted the Legate, bowed his head in apology for Durris having clearly had a long day, set the package he carried on the Durris' desk and left. Apparently, on his way out, Durris was now supposed to head for the Archives, and give this random box to the new "Prime Archivist", which basically meant Durris was now the mail boy for the latest "supreme scroll-kisser". Most days, Durris wouldn't mind, but as it was already late afternoon and Durris really just wanted to go home and rest for a bit. But there was no use fighting it. It was official business of the City Guard, even if it wasn't particularly glorious, and that made it an order he had to follow. The trip to the Archives would take a bit, as it was on the far side and central in the city, where as the barracks were located in the middle "ring" of the city, a good ways from the Beacon and the Archives. On foot, it'd take all night to get there, and without his cruiser, Durris was forced to walk to the local Rail Terminal, which he truly did not enjoy the notion of. It wasn't that he particularly minded using the Rail Network, his father ran one back in the Shades. But in the Peaks, people were different. In the city, a Legate using the Rails was not greeted with much respect. Merchants, medics, show owners, all of them used the Rail as a cheap means of travel, and didn't appreciate seeing a Guardsman trying to act like one of the Civilians when they were far from it in most peoples' eyes. Essentially, that's the type of reception Durris got when he set foot on the platform and waited for the next Rail shuttle to come. Ignoring the suspicious looks from the crowd around him, Durris lost himself into thought as he waited anxiously, the package hugged tight against him in his arm.

"This package must be important to who ever this Archivist person is... can't see why they'd send me to deliver this thing when they could've sent one of the boys out of the mail room to do it easily enough. Heh, with my luck, it's all probably a mix up... I'll get there, hike down into the Archives, find this person and have them tell me that I have the wrong box... Then I'll need to do this whole mess backwards and forwards all over again... This must be the brass' idea of payback for my being late this morning. I told them it was an accident but no... lousy, bush tail, marrow-brained pavhoka... just had to make me suffer, didn't he? And why won't this itch go away, already?!"

As he stepped aboard the shuttle and rode it to his destination, that same itch kept coming back, moving to the space behind his plates again, persistent and aggravating him incessantly. He groaned and itched, in plain view of everyone, making no bones about his irritation to them as he shot back the occasional glare. The entire ride took about ten minutes, Durris finding some relief as he stepped off the shuttle and onto the pavement again. Taking a quick assessment of his whereabouts, he darted off towards the Beacon tower, which stood over the Archives and shielded them from sight from afar. Weaving in and out of the crowds, ducking through alleys and jumping several walls to save time proved effective as he made a B-Line straight for his mark, reaching the stairs to the Archives just as the sun was making the final part of its descent towards the horizon. Unlike the rest of the city, the entryway to the Archives was made of black stone and bronze, a single white banner bearing the Order's black symbol flying overhead. For a moment, Durris felt a sense of unease wash over him, but pushed it out of his mind and proceeded down the long stairway to the Ancestral Halls below. The entire complex upon first sight was massive. Catacombs and corridors winding in and out in an almost labyrinthine manner, shelves holding long rows of data pads laid dormant and secured behind glass lining the walls as their attendants bustled about like a hive of insects, all wearing the ceremonial black robes and bronze arm and leg guards that caught and reflected the light of the luminescent gems that lined the walls and shelves.

Uncertain where to begin looking, Durris made his way through the winding corridors, sidestepping every few moments to avoid a seemingly distracted Scribe, feeling more and more lost in the hushed passages of the underground sanctum. Rounding a corner, he ran muzzle first into a young scribe, who shook her head and groaned as she rubbed her muzzle, her tail twitching a little as she looked at Durris with a puzzled stare. Her eyes lit up from under her hood in an instant as she quickly rose to her paws and bowed her head apologetically, returned in kind by Durris, who found his wrist suddenly grabbed by the concealed young woman and led through any number of hallways and down into a lower sanctum. Durris looked at the girl confusedly, earning a small giggle from her as she pointed down a single hallway, lit by lanterns instead of modern lights. Before Durris could ask what he was supposed to be looking for, or thank the young woman, he turned his head to find her already gone, without a trace back into the maze of passages she'd expertly guided them through. Shrugging, Durris moved forward down the hall the girl had pointed out, taking in the musty and unusual scent the place carried. Looking around, he could see why. In the dim light of the lanterns, he could see stacks of scrolls, piles of tomes and volume upon volume of books, actual books! Stopping to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him now, Durris stopped in front of a particular shelf and picked up a particularly heavy tome, thick and dusty yet remarkably well preserved, judging my the cover which remained pristine despite having to be at least several decades old. As he lifted the book closer to his eyes to try and make out the cover's inscription, he felt the book suddenly jerk out of his hands, being taken by a solitary scribe who's eyes dimly gleamed under the darkness of his hood.

"I know you're not used to this kind of thing, Ahsar." The scribe said, his tone precise and voice experienced. "But please don't handle the ancient texts. Some of these have been around since the last Period. and we are still in the process of re-recording them and preserving them. If any were to be lost to us before we could fully document and preserve their contents, it would be an irrecoverable loss to not only my Order, but to our society as well."

"Forgive me, Ahsar Scribe. I meant no offense or harm. It's just... I've never been in the Archives myself, before. I didn't realize that all these records were still here, or even could be."

"Not all, I fear. Many were lost during the Skirmishes of the First Period, and we have never truly recovered from those days. Our numbers may be great, now, but do not be fooled. Any Scribe here would gladly resign their commission and right to set foot here if it'd mean recovering what was lost to us so long ago."

"You know of the Skirmishes, Ahsar?"

"Indeed. That event is particularly important to those of us here. It is through that tale that us senior members explain to new acolytes and promising Scribes the nature and reason for our Order's existence."

"Senior members... then, are you the Prime Archivist, then? I was ordered to deliver this package to you"

"Ah yes... I see that the Lunnites have not completely forgotten about us, Aux. This package carries a particularly rare text that our branch of the Order has been sorely lacking, and has been attempting to requisition so that we too may add its contents to our collections. Those Lunnites like to make us fight for their texts, sometimes. They forget that we are all of the same Order and serve the same purpose... but I digress. Thank you for delivering this to me, Durris."

"Wait... Durris? You know who I am? But, I never introduced... Why you miserable atka lover! Mahr!"

The Scribe removed his hood and revealed himself to be just he. Mahr laughed to himself as he stared at his friend's expression of embarrassment and disbelief, falling back into a nearby chair as he wiped a tear from his eye and smiled. Scribes all throughout the Halls could probably hear Durris curse and yell at his laughing friend, earning several blushes from the females among the Order as some more colorful language was thrown in. By the end, Durris just sat down on the stone floor and laughed lightly, admitting that it was, actually, a little funny.

"So, who was that pup that helped me find you? Suppose she was in on it too, eh, Reten?"

"Hehehe, no, no Durris- Rett. That was Katarina, a new member among one of the fraternities. She was just told to bring you to me if she saw you, nothing more. I imagine she was actively looking for you and found you at random when she brought you down here. Good girl, a bit quiet, but very promising."

"Quiet? This whole place is hushed. Not to mention more active than the barracks on inspection day."

"Ah yes... Well, basically this place is a library of sorts. Or, at least, a private library. Most of us are too busy reading or focusing on copying texts to really stop and chat much. It's really a busy place, even besides the movement you saw upon your arrival. But, since you're here and I'm guessing by the looks of you, you've had one of those days, why don't you take a seat and I can continue where we left off last night?"

"Just like that, Mahr? You can recall exactly where you were in the story, with no trouble?"

"Certainly, my friend. I am the new Prime Archivist, after all. They don't make you one unless you can recall at least seven stories by heart and present them before the Archivist Council. That's what I've been doing all day, so trust me, it's no trouble." Mahr leaned back in his chair and assumed his usual stance as he went into thought, recalling the story once more. Putting his fingers to his temple and chin, he looked up as he drifted off into his mind and began telling the tale of the Skirmishes anew...