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For 13 years North had lived on that farm and in one evening all that changed.

For another 13, he'd have to endure with intense training both mental and physical.

Of course, within one week, he'd learned he'd never be anything like Winston. His amazing strength was actually magic based physical enhancement, like steroids, but faster and more sparkly.

Within these 13 years, North came to a realisation, witch hunters were just as mortal as the rest of the world. No more, no less. The only difference between a hunter and a common soldier was training, and oh, was there training.

Every hunter had to be proficient with the knife, the bow, the sword, the mallet and with throwing sand into their opponents' eyes, and had North been any other potential recruit, it would have taken him an incredibly long time to master these skills, but Winston had, for some reason or another, taken it upon himself to mentor North and under his guidance North had quickly become the most martially capable recruit within his class. Ritual studies, however, were where it all fell apart. A witch hunter not only had to be able to identify any number of rituals but be able to perform some specific rituals themselves.

North was completely hopeless in this regard. While his classmates quickly studied the various rituals, spells and incantations, North couldn't even tell a séance from a demon summoning from a necromantic ritual to bring a musicians' dead career back to life.

This was what took him 13 years. After much study and many, many failed attempts to learn the vital differences between rituals, finally something clicked, and he--almost miraculously--passed the tests he needed, and repeatedly failed, to pass.

With this, he was granted holy sanction by the Church, the right to act in the name of the light, a get out of jail free card in most cities. The same day he finally proved he could tell a sacrifice to a god from a blood magic ritual, he undertook his sacred oath, and was presented with his fitted hunters' coat, and matching, stylish hat.

His ascension from recruit to hunter was met with smiles from his combat instructors and scowls of discontent from every single one of the hunters charged with ritual education, which was fair dues, he wasted 13 years of their lives after all.

When all was said and done, North was ordered to the chapel to receive his first task from the clergy, and as he exited their chambers he was met by an elderly lion who presented North with a letter bearing the Imperial Sigil, the official marking of the Emperor of these lands, with whose blessing the Church operated.

Upon opening it, his heart sank. He was going to have company along to steal his opportunity to show what he could do as a hunter, some knight who only wore armour on his left arm like some kind of tit.

Setting out from the Church, he rode for the city of Regis; capital and the seat of power for Emperor Reginald Lionheart the Fifth--a name meant incredibly literally.

Entering the city's market square, he was immediately privy to a Young red Lupus in a long black coat sprinting past with an armful of cheese and, needless to say, he was being followed by a rather angry and exhausted Porcine shopkeeper.

The tired old pig skidded to a halt in front of North, grasped him by the collar and yelled into his face, "That bastard dog stole my gods-damned cheeses, you're a witch hunter, so hunt him down, you twat!"

Taking a moment to figure out what the hell happened, North looked down the street after the red streak, before taking off at a sprint after him. His stylish, wide-brimmed hunters hat getting knocked off by the sudden gust of air around the fox. Lupus or not, he would not outrun a witch hunter.

Leaping nimbly over carts and pedestrians, North quickly gained on his quarry, knocking over at least one elderly gentleman, and a couple of children, on the path to cheesy justice.

Quickly ducking to one side, he clambered up on top of a wagon, before diving gracefully into a tackle that took the wolf down.

Pressing his body weight down on the wolf, North took a deep breath and then calmly stated, "Criminal scum, you are under arrest for the attempted theft of a large amount of cheese'"

He immediately regretted phrasing it that way.

With that, a muffled voice calmly responded, "Listen, I know you'd really love to see me in handcuffs but..."

He turned his head to the side, a small trickle of blood trailing from his snout, and flashed the fox on top of him a smirk.

"I only do that sort of stuff on a second date."

And with that, he began struggling, prompting North to apply more body weight to keep him pinned, and in an uncomfortable position.

The struggle continued for a few seconds more, before finally the red wolf stopped moving, and sighed, "Fine, fine, you win, you can cuff me, just be gent-"

He was cut off by a sudden mouthful of dirt, the shop owner had caught up to the two of them and was taking his own version of Justice out on the pinned wolf.

Just as he was about to actually kick the young wolf, however, a sharp voice rang out over the crowd, "Good sir, should you lay a finger on him, I am afraid I shall have to incinerate you for attacking one of the emperors' knights."

The shop owner took pause, giving the mouthy wolf a chance to talk, "Alright, score one for the Fenris team sis, it's cool that you have my back."

Taking a moment to look up at the newcomer, North was staring right at a striking black-furred Lupus woman, dressed in very heavy plate mail, with a small ball of flame snuggled softly into her upraised paw. Her dark hair framed a soft face but there was no mistaking that this woman would set you on fire if you annoyed her, and she seemed easily annoyed. She had those sort of eyes that say, 'I am easily annoyed and will set you on fire'.

In her other paw, she held a long, decorative staff, which she promptly used to beat the red wolf in the snout.

"Come on Richard," She said, a sigh evident in her voice, "just give the fat pig his cheese."

The shop owner looked ready to protest, but North slowly shook his head at the pig, his gut told him if the owner spoke, there would be bacon at the markets this day. The red wolf, Richard, gestured with his head towards his captor, prompting another sigh from the woman.

"Would you be willing to let my brother return the cheese, sir?"

North, still slightly confused as to what was actually going on, released Richard, allowing the wolf to stand and hand the cheese back to the original owner. Taking this moment of peace, North asked, "Who are you people?" then politely added, "Maybe we should head to the side of the street before we do introductions actually?"

With that, the trio stepped out of the flow of market traffic, into a covered alcove between two stands. Out of the way, North repeated his question, "So, who are you two then?"

He gestured toward the woman to introduce herself first, dreading when Richard's mouth opened again. Just as she was about to speak, however, Richard slipped between North and the woman, a huge grin on his face, and stuck out a hand.

"Richard Fenris, member of the emperors' knights and dashing rogue, at your service," he said, as he gestured behind himself, at the woman, "and this is my older sister Araneae; she's a magic user."

"Magi." She corrected

"Magi, yeah, whatever," he turned on his heel, and began lecturing his sister about how titles don't matter if you use magic. North used this opportunity to look him over.

Standing taller than both North and Araneae, Richard was taller than most of the people in the crowd. Heck, he was even a match for Winston in terms of height, which was a feat. His fur coat was a deep red, except for a small strip of orange fluff on top of his head. As a specimen, however, he was less than intimidating. Certainly bulkier than North, but just like the hunter, he wouldn't be winning any bodybuilding contests. North also noticed, much to his chagrin, that Richard had armour over his left arm, which stood at a stark contrast to his otherwise unarmoured body, unless you count a long, black and sleeveless leather coat, a pair of tan pants and some brown leather boots as any sort of armour to write home about.

Suddenly, a bright red fluffy tail shot up from the ground, catching North on the chin and causing him to stumble back in surprise, prompting Richard to turn back to face him, and lean in uncomfortably close.

"So, you're a witch hunter? Why are you here in the city?"

Then, with a sly smirk, he leaned in closer and whispered, "I wouldn't mind being cuffed by you, now that I've had a good look.

He flashed North a sly smirk, followed by a not so subtle wink, his tail swishing in the air behind him.

North promptly head-butted Richard in the snout, causing the knight to topple forward in spite of physics, and responded, obviously flustered, "W-What did you just say to me?"

He rapidly shook his head and refocused himself as best he could, stopped, cleared his throat and calmly said, " My name is North, I am a witch hunter in service to the Church of the light and I have come to Regis to make contact with a knight that has been assigned to assist me in solving a ritual case in the country, in a town called Grayseed, to be exact."

Richard, who was now collapsed on the floor again, raised his hand slightly and mumbled, "That'd be me sirrah, and might I say what a pleasure it'll be to work with you." Following this, his sister spoke up, "I'm guessing they didn't tell you we come as a package deal?"

North shook his head, the letter he received had omitted any details of the sort.

"Oh," she said, "Yeah, this idiot," she gestured to Richard, "can barely breathe on his own honestly, he needs me to supervise him so he doesn't try and eat honey from the bees nest."

North looked down at Richard in disbelief, could someone like this really be a knight?

Richard must have felt the questioning eyes on him, as he looked up at North and said, "Firstly, I've only done that once, secondly, I'll grow on you, I always do."

He rolled over onto his back to look up at North, his tongue lolling out comically and his face now looking slightly more bloody than it did before the head-butt.

He flashed North a smile, followed by his sister replying to his statement with, "Much like a wart."

In this city and on this day, after Richard had mostly recovered from his concussion, of course, the three of them set out from the civilised world to a backwater hamlet named Grayseed, to find out what these ritual happenings were. None of them could have known what ludicrous and dire events awaited them at their destination.