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Eighteen: The Underworld Lord's Deal

(Before I was to be trained to master a blade, I had to first understand the language of the wolves of this country. They were clearly not just a proud piece of culture, but they also wanted everything precise, and at the same time, respectful. The latter was a crucial part of living like a Seikatan. I was immediately issued a uniform of sorts: a smooth robe that came off as delicate. I would have that over a pair of white pants and white wraps as the dojo's interpreter taught me the language.

(From the late Spring to the mid-Summer, I became fluent in the foreign tongue. The lessons were as much one in patience as there was no fast way of being able to say the words. Furthermore, the unique characters needed to be precise in some way. A single mistake would result in the meaning of the characters to change. One of the hardest concepts to master was a single character expressing more than a single word.

(The first Seikatan words I learnt were the names of the two grandmasters: Kashikoi and Tsuyoi. That led to the clarification that their names were not phrases. Over the lessons, I would only speak when told to; usually repeating the words. Over the two months, I had learnt a few thousand words and phrases. My speech in their tongue would still be faffed when first learning about the two grandmasters. Even when reaching remarkable fluency, the story of the dojo's inception was one that needed to wait.

(On that mid-Summer day, as I walked the mosaic path to the meditation temple where the two grandmasters awaited me, I watched a group of other wolves and felines march. Standing out in them was one she-wolf with a violet-black pelt and indigo ears and neck, wearing a beige robe. She was not as stoic as the rest of the group. She seemed to be genuinely angry, the amber of her eyes threatening to burst. I knew not how old she was at that time, but I already saw myself in her.

(I entered the temple that was painted grey and had white shingles. I was still uncertain whether I should knock on the wooden frame of the paper windows or just slide the doorway open and enter. I chose the former, before slowly pushing the wooden frame aside. There the red wolf and blue wolf were, perched upon cushions with folded legs. As slowly, I shut the opening and approached. It was made mandatory I joined them in their meditation, which they would be almost finished at this time of day.

(When that was done, the blue wolf Kashikoi spoke up in their language, "You still refuse to tell us your name."

(It was something that I lived by even now. I insisted, "I have no name."

(Kashikoi objected, "But a warrior with a master surely has a name."

(I said, "I lost everything. I have only one reason, but that makes not for my name."

(Kashikoi had to dart a look at the red wolf Tsuyoi. Kashikoi responded, "Then you will be called 'Namonaki'." Tsuyoi scowled at his partner, and then me. There was something about that he opposed.

(Tsuyoi finally spoke, "There is something about you that I know too well."

(I felt chills from the intimidation that only his presence caused. I was too familiar with that feeling by that time. I said simply, "I have only one reason. That is why I wish to train here."

(Kashikoi reminded me, "In due time, young one.")

I proceed in the order of the pages that the High Counsellor has presented to me. The first on the list is the borough's Chief Inspector, Parsons. His home address is where I start. I recognise nothing in Crowsridge, but Michi can show me the way as if a map has been etched into his foot. Thanks to his guidance, I can get to the house where Parsons lives by scaling one house and treading from roof to roof.

The Chief Inspector's house looks no different from any house in the case of the palette of greys and black. Of course, someone on the city's payroll would live in a house made of bricks and cement. There seems to be one exception, however, for the windows are covered by wooden planks nailed to the frames. Even the roof has taken hits, for the gaps in the shingles, showing the tar.

I see the front door as the only way in. Even the chimney is blocked. So, I climb down from the wall of the house in front of the abandoned building. I look around before I pull out my pins and start picking the lock. I listen carefully for the clicks, but all I hear is scratching, until I have a small ray of hope. The scratching becomes a test to my patience. The longer I stand in one place, the bigger the chance I have an unfriendly encounter.

Finally, after hearing the third click, followed by a scrape, I put away my pins and open the door. Even the interior looks worse for wear. I am quick to search the living space, the kitchen, the study, and the bedroom--all of which are dusty--and find clues on his whereabouts. The first papers that I find in his study are of criminals that he himself has arrested. Memoirs of times when he has been made out as the hero.

Hidden inside almost every book from the shelves seeming untouched, were folded pages of leads on criminals. I make a layout of these stacks, sorting them by date. All in a row on his intricate desk, I line up the papers. The latest of notes that I find are on a criminal's whereabouts. Where that criminal is, Parsons follows.

After a short trek, I find myself inside the unbelievable sewage system. I would wager that every sewer of Highcond would be not as rancid as that of Crowsridge. Upon entering, I cough dryly and I feel like I could vomit. What cack. These people should be wealthy, and yet the council oversees no maintenance of their sewer. I have to go alone, for the air is stiff.

However, I cannot fully isolate a person's scent from these ghastly odours. It is like being blinded before entering a maze. The silver lining is that Parsons and whomever he stalks cannot be far from where I am. So, I go forward, like with this path that I have been taking all my life. As I proceed, I observe that these pipes have built up so much rust along with the grime that the metal could give way soon. To make that more disturbing, more and more of the metal is rusted as I proceed. It was like walking in a forest that has been obliterated by one source and the damage leading to the area made most barren.

This logic proves to be correct, for the opening where the pipe ends is at a chamber that should have been for water. However, the dirt of the floor and walls is perfectly dry. Scattered on the floor are crates of dynamite.

At the opposite end, there my target is. A grizzly bear, Chief Inspector Parsons. He is well-built, for his thick brown fur and his width. He is bare-chested, and I can make out a hint of defined muscles, under a long black coat. He is not alone; tending to the dynamite are weasels in ragged-looking business suits. The bear looks up and announces, "This's not yer business. Turn back." The sudden engagement also has the attention of the weasels.

I orate, "Whatever yer intentions, Parsons, your _real_boss needs you. And you are a year late ter 'eed yer warrant."

I can see from where I stand, he narrows his eyes. He speaks, "Y-want 'er? She's yours." I had a hunch that he would not take orders so easily. I leap from the opening and land firmly on the dirt ground, drawing my Khopeshes. The first two weasels that meet me, I stab them in their midsections. As quickly, I pull the blades out, and then slash my Khopeshes on an angle in the same direction, gashing one weasel's chest. As if bouncing off a wall, I slash downward on the next one. Right in front of me, the grizzly stands, aiming a rifle. I stand still for a moment, deliberately letting my guard down as the last weasel dashes toward me, thrusting a stiletto. I leap aside, making both the strike and the bullet miss. I turn back, to the last weasel, which I behead with both Khopeshes.

I dash from stack to stack of dynamite crates. When in range, I use my left Khopesh to force the bear's rifle upwards, and he lets it fire. With the same blade, I slash his right hand, but it comes out as only a slit in his hide. I shove his gun aside, which makes him fire again. The bullet might have landed in one of the crates, but there is no explosion. I flip my Khopeshes, and use the blunt sides to force the bear to shift to one side. I kick him in the shin, which seems to affect him, for he loses his balance. However, he still puts up a fight, relying on the gun to keep my blades away from him. I have to give way. That is what I do, but I duck and step aside, before he can bludgeon me with the rifle's handle. I shift my balance quickly and sharply kick upward, following another, stunning him. The bear groans groggily. I leap and spin kick, each blow landing. Now, the bear loses grip of his rifle.

I jump to the wall behind him, and then bounce from it, landing my boot on his shoulder. Before he knows it, I stand in front of Parsons again, to press the hook of my left Khopesh to his chin. I use it to nudge him to look up as he kneels. I say bluntly, "Yield."

Parsons says, "I will go with you now."

"Stand up", I command. He complies. I wait for him to pass me before I take the rope keeping two crates together. I still cannot afford to take chances, for I keep my left Khopesh pressed to the bear's back. Whether it can break his spine, he and I would both find out if he attempts to assail me.

Thankfully, that is not the case when we are out of the sewer. As I lead him from behind where the carriage is, Parsons speaks, "I did have my own reasons fer joining those dealers." I have no comment on that. So, he continues, "Being Chief Inspector means making the most enemies. Criminals hold grudges against police officers for beating them and puttin' them away. I've faked my death for the ninth time now, to keep disbanded gangs out of my house."

I lower my arm, so I can sheathe my Khopesh. Quickly, I tie his legs together with the rope. Then, I use the same line, to bind his wrists together. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I answer bluntly, "I cannot trust you t-not escape." I open the door of the carriage. I back up, so I can build the momentum to shove him inside. I have to shove his legs inside before I slam the door on him. Then, I take the reins to the horses pulling the carriage.

(It was in the Fall when I began the training, along with many other wolves and felines around my age. In one of their several temples for training, they welcomed cubs. However, I had seen only a few cubs. I was to take a course for the older beginner. The instructor was a leopard. He spoke about the honour of the warriors of the school and the clan. He warned that the classes were not for the faintest of heart and there were no shortcuts. Before we were even to be trained to handle a blade, he gave a lecture on how one must respect their weapons, for it was like a warrior's soul.

(During that lecture, one feline that might have been a year older than me acted out. That was met with a reprehending by the instructor. That was followed by a short speech that in order to be a skilled fighter, one needed discipline. I had already long since learned that these people used discipline during their meals. Even a lack of discipline at a dining table could be considered an insult.

(I listened to every word, making sure that I missed nothing. I took to heart what made a great warrior: discipline, strategy, and honour. I was certain that the grandmasters were aware of my motivation without needing my words. However, rage was not the way of these people. I would write down what they saw in their warriors.)

Where Michi has brought me is at what looks like a large church, but the two banners at the front door indicate otherwise. This is where the page indicates a judge named Carter always is. He has apparently rented out a space above the courtroom where he presides. I get off the carriage and stride to the courthouse; it has taken regular beatings. The maintenance could not keep up with what disdain the vandalists express.

I kick the double door and it opens, showing that I am correct that they open only inwards. The lobby seems deserted as there is nobody at the stone desk. The polished tiled floor and the wooden walls contrast to outside; much more care is shown on the interior. I stride to the left of the stairs, to the short hall with a skull-like pattern etched into the stone walls, giving a sudden chill. It only makes me want to burst into the courtroom faster. That buried anger comes to me, persisting that I let it out. However, it is given no satisfaction.

I kick the door at the end of the corridor, expecting it to be locked, but it is not. It gives way as easily as the front doors. The courtroom that I enter has the same grey tiles for the floor. Only the lower half of the walls is stone with the skull-like pattern. The upper half is covered with wallpaper of a green that looks revolting. Even the benches are polished. At the high podium sits a Rottweiler in a black suit, matching his primarily black pelt too well. To stand out with his black suit is the raised collar of his white shirt and white bowtie with two tails. Even seeing him from the doorway, he looks skinny. I do not approach; I only look around with a scowl. I carefully examine the floor, to find nothing standing out. Then again, there is a chance of something hidden behind the banner behind the dog.

The dog announces, "Intend you only t-stand there, or t-seek an audience?"

I slowly approach the tall and curved podium. I give him my intent scowl as I announce back, "The High Counsellor is the one demanding an audience. If I need drag you out of 'ere, I will."

The dog is quiet until I stop at the podium on the floor, for witness' stands. He speaks, "I assume, you were the one to fulfil the top three bounty 'unts. No citizen would-a done tha' 'nd lived."

I orate, "I've no times fer games, Carter."

He sighs, "So you don't..." He speaks up, "There's but one favour I want"-

I interrupt, dashing to the tall podium, "Hang that bollocks!"

The second I climb up, he announces, "Now, now. It-ull be worth yer while, Vigilante"- I stand next to him on the counter, forcing him to look up. "There's one more wanted criminal fer which I want the death sentence. Oll the facts 'ave olready bin presented, but he escaped before sentencing could be passed."

I orate, "Am I not doing enough here? The favour I do fer Willoughby right now is olready a waste o' me time!"

Carter retorts, "This furniture 'as bin polished fer a reason. Men wanted fer kidnapping, rape, murder, and sales of drugs: oll of them olready given the death sentence, and executed by firing squad jus' this morning."

"Is that whot you want of all criminals?" I would be lying if I claim that he and I share the view on criminals.

"This one in particular", he answers. Carter continues after lowering his head, "A badger charged fer murder an' rape of 'is own mother and ten other women--all cats." Carter already smiles at that he has my attention.

Scowling, I tell him, "Whot you ask of me is still a waste of time. I can only promise that I will kill 'im myself."

"Better I see him die", Carter retorts.

"And I 'ave no time to guarantee such", I growl. "Your boss needs you now."

Carter stands up, letting out an exasperated sigh. He raises a finger. "His demise at your hands."

I answer, "You have my word."

"Then I will go with you." A second later, I punch him directly in the muzzle, and he stumbles back in the chair.

I drag Carter into the carriage, which has not left, and how surprised Parsons is by the judge's sudden presence.

(Well into the season, I have learned to wield what these warriors call a Naginata. I was lost at first with the order of hands. I wondered if it was to prepare for the real one, I needed to handle the wooden staff with both hands. Over the course of the first month of classes, I was paired with the violet she-wolf for the sparring. It turned out that she was a year older than me. Her name was Kana. She was beautiful when we introduced each other, and was surprised that I went by "Namonaki". Whenever I would see her, but not interact with her, she would be stoic. I would see the boys avoid her, as if she would make sure of such.

(She reminded me of myself, when I was so full of rage, wanting to kill the father of my old friend, and then wishing that I went after the wolf that killed my mother and step-father. I started to think more clearly thanks to the residents of Mau-Re, and the instructors of the dojos. My mother and Clement wanted me to follow this path. With each day, I acknowledged more and more, until now I fully realised that they were right to lead me here.

(Kana spoke, "Impressive. But you still have more to learn." She would know; she was an expert with the spear compared to me. She pressed the blunt end of the staff in the floor, adding, "Let us take a break."

(I bowed my gratitude. For almost everything, we had to bow for some kind of acknowledgement. That was a significant factor in their disciplinary ways.

(After our spar, we had afternoon tea. There were other low tables taken up by pairs of wolves or felines around our ages. Kana was the one to teach me the tea ceremony, and the one to show me the purpose of it. They were a strictly-disciplined culture. I would scoff at it at first, but not this day. Upon filling our cups, and making the acknowledgements, Kana asked, "What brings an outsider such as yourself to our lands?" She had been asking this me ever since we started sparring together.

(Like I had been all those times, I answered, "I prefer to inform the grandmasters first."

(She retorted, "They are as curious as the rest of the beginners. They will keep persisting until you explain it to them."

("I am just not ready", I objected. "It is too soon. I have learned to not rush things."

(Kana leaned forward, to state, "I might see what the grandmasters see in your eyes. Much can be told about an individual by their eyes."

(I turned away, afraid to tell her what I thought of her when first got to know her, when I first looked past that mask of stoicism. She caught this. I was afraid that everyone would reject me for this, but I believed in love at first sight. Furthermore, I thought of how she was likely raised. I looked to her again. "One day, but not today. Please, trust me." She nodded at that, and sat properly. So, she opened up instead. Kana told me of her life as a small cub. She had been telling me more and more with each tea ceremony. One day, she would know what I had to endure.)

Of all places the borough's Crown Attorney could be cowering after possibly faking his death like the chief inspector, it seemed to be an underground club. The pub where I stopped the carriage, Survivors' Ark, was apparently known for a fight club, where the most criminals dwell at any time of day. I storm in the pub, forcing the doors open as I do so. I have my fists clenched. I have my muzzle pointed down, so the patrons can see my eyes. My tail is erect.

I announce, "Crown Attorney Barkin, White-Tail, pale fur, known to wear a green double-breasted blazer: who knows him?"

Most of the patrons guffaw and cackle at my question. I approach the counter, to the barman, a cocoa-tinted deer. I say, "Pint-a Kabal Kane Ale." I present a tenner.

The barman is quick to fulfil my order. When delivering the metal mug, he gestures me to lean to him. He whispers, "The man you describe 'as bin downstairs fer weeks. He manages the fight club. Always collectin' from the bets."

I lean away. Picking up the mug, I say, "Cheers", and then take a big gulp of the golden sensation. I look around, to determine that I must not stay long. The men taking up the tables and the barstools have some kind of scar visible in their fur or a tear in their clothes. I take another big gulp of the ale, before I head to the door that I need no questioning, to be told it is where the fight club is.

I am right, of course: the cellar of this place has its kegs of ale, wine, whiskey, and gin. However, this cellar is vaster than it should be. It is already crowded with various dogs, weasels, and a few bears. The ring, its wall being stone, is wider than those I have seen in other fight clubs. The white-tail deer sticks out like a rose among lilies. The barman is no liar about the stag's position. He is accompanied by a brown bear, wearing only business trousers. The stag himself has his antlers and pale fur. His white shirt under his green jacket looks yellow. I push my way past the audience, to approach the stag.

I see only one way to gain his attention. I say bluntly, "I will participate in a tournament."

He scoffs, "I would never send a girl to 'er demise."

I object, leaning toward him, "I am not just a girl. I am no damsel, either."

"I believe you, but I have rules."

I straighten myself. I speak, "I should expect that of a Crown Attorney"--the grizzly shoots him a sneer-- "but I never expected even such an important servant of order to be this corrupt." Now, the grizzly shoots me a scowl.

Barkin asks, "What d-you want?"

"'Tis whot Counsellor Willoughby desires: yer presence. If you refuse to go with me, whether you fulfil no bargain or call yer followers on me"--I pull out an incendiary, which I let him see-- "I will blow this place to hell."

I need not look back, for what the stag eyes. He sits straight in his chair, responding, "I seen enough bombs ta tell which ones are bollocks. Yeh're right that I will not go with you quietly. One five-round tournament. No armour; no weapons. Per the rules, yeh'll get a cut o' the winnings. An' believe me: I loathe debts."

The tournament is quick to begin. I wear no more than my wraps, slacks, and mask--my boots are considered an unfair advantage, and yet my first two opponents wear shoes. The first two men that I face are canines, maybe two centimetres shorter than me. They both have a right amount of muscle, though their pants look ragged. For a minute after the bell sounds, they just stand there, making kiss sounds and growling playfully. I will not be provoked so easily. So, they attack me at the same time. I dash between them, to taunt them back. That makes them angry enough to attack. I taunt them the same way they do, striking more sloppily. I do it again, before I take the chance to trip them both, and then stamp their throats. They seem to not get up from that. How disappointing that they actually concede.

To make things a little more difficult, I have to face a stoat, a badger, and a deer. The deer is the one to make the first move, dashing to me, for ramming is too obvious, and stops with swinging both his arms in arcs. I duck, kicking at his shin, but he backs up before I can do so. The two weasels jump at me, but I shake them both off in one move. The deer manages to exploit that weakness, bringing his head down like a hammer. However, it turns out to be a feint. He grabs one of my arms and then turns me around. He holds me by the arms. Before the weasels can strike me, I kick backwards. In losing his balance, I force him in an arc, sweeping the weasels. I knee-kick him in the midsection, and then lift my shin in another kick. The two blows make him bend over. His feint fails as I slam him to the ground. I catch the stoat as he leaps at me, with one hand, and then toss him toward the badger. The badger evades the thrown stoat, but not my kick to his jaw.

The audience boos at that; something that I am all too used to. For the third round, the challengers are an otter, a dog, and a badger. The otter dashes side-to-side, while the badger dashes straight ahead. The otter is nothing. I leap side-to-side, like he does, which aggravates him. To my surprise, the dog has his hands on the badger whilst I face the otter. The surprise gives the otter the chance to bite into my leg, and then climb up it. Before his punch could land, I grab him by the throat, and then slam him to the floor. That is when the dog focuses on me. I drop backwards before his uppercut can land. I lift myself as quickly by rolling, and then sweep with my leg. That is a feint, before I perform an uppercut, and he goes down.

The boos are louder this time as the bell chimes. My next challengers are two dogs, a bear, and a deer. My focus is on the bear, or so I give the impression to the rest of the challengers. I drop to the floor upon hearing the deer run to me from behind, and I separate the bear's legs so I can slide under him. I kick his hip before the bear can turn around, but it seems to have no effect. The second he turns, I grab his arm and climb up, so I can kick his face. Even when he stumbles, I use my effort to stay on him. With that great effort, I lift myself to his shoulder, kicking his muzzle with both legs, and I backflip from him, making him stumble, accidentally slapping one of the dogs. The one in front of me becomes my next focus. I jab his muzzle twice, and then headbutt him. I grab the deer challenging me, by the arm, so I can throw him into the bear. I leap up to him, kicking him in the midsection, and with enough force, to make the bear force him aside, aggravated. I leap toward him, and then from his knee, delivering an uppercut to his muzzle. The second he stumbles, I climb up him again. Before he knows it, I wrap my legs around his neck from behind in a tight grip. This makes him stumble forward.

I pant, drowning out the boos and the death threats that followed the chime of the bell. That is when I meet the biggest challenge yet: the same grizzly at Barkin's side, aided by two bloodhounds and a rottweiler, these dogs having good muscle as well as a fair number of visible scars. They do not use the same strategy as the previous wave. The bloodhound to my left is my first focus. I deliver a flurry of punches to his midsection and up to his chest. Before I can uppercut, he grabs my arm, and then tosses me toward the rottweiler, who kicks me in the back. That is followed by the grizzly nonchalantly shoving me with his foot. I stay on the floor, facedown. I await their approach... but I hear no footsteps nearing. So, I roll over and stand up. The dogs walk up to me, scowling but not thinking that I am worth it. They surround me. I already know what to do. I duck and sweep as a feint, which they fall for, and then I lunge to the bloodhound in front of me, shoving him by the shoulders. I force him to the floor successfully. I pull him by the shoulders, making him slide toward the grizzly. I swiftly turn around, focusing on the other bloodhound and the rottweiler. I catch the rottweiler's fist as he jabs to my nose, and then kick his knee as I hop. I then let go of his fist, so I can grab his throat. He forces my hand off him, as I expect, and the bloodhound grabs me. I lift myself, taking advantage of his strength. I wrap my legs around his neck. He lets go of my arm, to pull my legs from each other. I willingly let go, leaping from him, kicking the rottweiler in the muzzle. The fist bloodhound has recovered and the bear is the one to swing at me, relying on his claws. I stop one swing, yanking to break his wrist. There are no sounds of breaking or cracking, but I twist it enough to make him roar. The bloodhounds make their move, but I slide under the grizzly again, kicking the back of his knee as hard as I can, and then the side of it. The bloodhounds catch up and the grizzly turns around, swinging his claws down at me. I leap backwards, before I jab with both fists to the bloodhounds. I then grab them by their throats, so I can slam their heads together. They fall from the blow, and then I focus on the grizzly for the last time. I grab his arm, and climb up him. I kick his jaw twice, making him stumble. With him level with me, I spin anti-clockwise, kicking with my left foot, followed by my right, both blows landing in the side of his muzzle. With him down for the count, the match is over.

Barkin comes to me, looking so disapproving that he could be containing his vengeful rage. He looks down at the grizzly, who is now unconscious, or close to it. He moves to stand next to me and raises my arm. "Our! Champion!" he announces.

("The time has come for you to hear the story of the clan and dojo's inception", the blue wolf began when I sat with him and his partner in their meditation temple. The wolf calling himself Kashikoi and his partner Tsuyoi alternated with telling me the legend. The red wolf added, "It has become the most important part of our clan's history. You know that our names are really mantles. We make it forbidden to speak the grandmasters' real names, for we are made idols." He scowled at that, as if he disapproved. Then again, the red wolf might have disapproved of many things.

(The blue wolf said, "The first Kashikoi and Tsuyoi were idols to those to learn at this dojo, when it was only one temple. These two embodied the balance sought by all. As they evolved in their teachings, more arrived, and more temples were erected."

(The red wolf added, "But not all were built in the time of the founders."

("This land was made home of two brothers. Their given names are long since forgotten as they forbade all except themselves from saying those names." That reminded me of what I had self-proclaimed. The blue wolf continued, "These two brothers were twins, and considered phenomena for how they looked. The older twin's pelt became white like snow. The younger twin's pelt was always black like the night. They came from an esteemed family, a long line of esteemed warriors whose legacy died with them.

("The twins were born in the times of Daimyo lords. As the government and the clans of warriors were divided, the country's fight was with itself."

(As the blue wolf paused with a heavy heart, the red wolf continued with the story. "It was a dark part of Seikatan history. The clans were divided in the west and the east. It was about power; it is always about power. Everyone with influence will kill for it." He paused a beat. "The clan of the twins: they were always part of the military. Everyone in the military, or was ex-military, were forced to heed the call. The twins were of age when a representative visited their estate. As they were just of age, they were given a notice.

("Now, these two wolves had been trained since they were able to walk on their own. To honour their family's legacy. However, they questioned the reason to participate in a fight that was not theirs. There was only one way to evade conscription. Late at night, they packed up what clothes and food they could. They left their home without leaving a message. They left their village quickly, wanting to leave no trace."

(The blue wolf shot a glance to his partner, who nodded quietly. Kashikoi picked up. "The twins rested during the day when they were first away from civilisation. Only then, they realised that they knew nothing about survival. They pressed on, wanting to be far from all bloodshed, hoping for a safe place--safe from all violence over the lands of Seikat.

("The brothers would live among the wildlife for a long time. They taught themselves to hunt for game and to clean their clothes. They would eventually seek places for water, so they could fish, and forests for deer. They would find themselves over the time of living in the wild. The older brother was wise beyond his years; the younger brother became strong. That made them the two sides of the same coin. The older brother was the strategy and the younger brother would execute the plans."

(The red wolf continued from there. "Over a year passed when they reached civilisation, and the brothers aided a farming family. They, too, were met by a representative. When the younger brother assaulted that representative for harassing the family, one of the children saw an opportunity. As hesitant as they both were, they let the cub join them in their lifestyle. That cub was taught survival, hunting, and fishing. The brothers would spar by that time, to make themselves better at fighting.

("Unfortunately, tragedy struck. It had barely been two weeks, when followers of a warlord invaded their campsite. Those criminals were killed, but the brothers were too late to save the cub. That grief was short-lived, for they aided many other families in their travels and a member of each family took a chance to go with them. Most of them died at the hands of criminals or soldiers. Others died from the dangers of the wild. Only one of their pupils returned to civilisation for good, to join rebels."

(Kashikoi picked up the story. "After two years since they left home, the brothers found themselves guided by a peculiar large raven. Only because the older brother followed the raven, the younger brother did as well. For the next several days of their travels, they found no trouble with nature's hazards or with criminals and military. They settled inside a single temple one night of a typhoon. By morning, they both wondered if that raven guided them there on purpose. They saw that the place indeed once was a temple, long since forgotten. They made it their own, collecting their own materials and making charms from wood.

(Tsuyoi took it from there. "Over the weeks to follow, the brothers were visited by other vagabonds, along with criminals and soldiers wishing to forsake their duties for good. The brothers kept their ceremonial katanas all that time, and began taking disciples. This temple where we sit was their first."

(The blue wolf said, "The older brother renamed himself Kashikoi, for his knowledge"-

(The red wolf added, "The younger brother renamed himself Tsuyoi, for his strength."

("They believed these to be the two parts of one's soul"-

("And that is what their disciples have learnt over three centuries."

(I was lost with words. Instead, I looked at the both of them alternatively. They saw in me just what I saw in them. Kashikoi had violet eyes; Tsuyoi orange eyes. At that moment, I realised why Clement demanded I go to the Sanctuary of Mau-Re, and then follow the tutelage of these two.)

All three of these men have been surprised to see each other in the same carriage, which I drive hastily back to the fortress-like construct that is the city hall. I can hear them grunting when I bring it to a sudden halt in front of its doors. I am hasty to dismount and open the carriage's door. I say bluntly, "Get out." The bear is the first to do so. I have to get the dog and the deer out myself. Only the deer is not tied up. The dog's hands are tied by his own jacket. I force the front doors open, and then shove the bear, saying, "Move."

I needed to think before bringing them inside. Parson was first to follow me, of course, followed by Carter, and then Barkin. I stride along the short hall, to open the following door.

Now, I am the one taken aback. In the chamber, at each side of the diamond-like table, is a grizzly bear, wearing leather overcoats with metal epaulettes, and each having a halberd and shotgun over their shoulders. I need only watch as Parsons passes me, then Carter, and finally Barkin. Of the two sides on which each has an armoured grizzly standing idly, I choose the left. I end up ordering them to take that side as they expect an order from me. They stop when the grizzly speaks, "Those are unnecessary." He is quick to untie Parsons and then Carter. I move to pass the same grizzly--

But he quickly draws his shotgun, pointing it at my neck, with one hand. He states, "High Counsellor Willoughby requires your presence, only later."

I look past him, seeing the three men near the High Counsellor. I scowl at the armoured grizzly in front of me as I stand down.

"Chief Inspector Parsons reporting."

"Council Judge Carter reporting."

"Borough Crown Attorney Barkin reporting."

Parsons is the one to ask, "What subject requires the presence of us three?"

I hear the Doberman growl, "Demise." The sound of fire roaring fills the room. Spires of orange fire shoot from where they stand, making them all cry out in pain, followed by screams. He barks, "Too long you have ignored my demands! Too long you were incompetent! For this, you have failed me, and for the last time!"

I growl, "What the bloody 'ell is this?!" Only because of the armoured grizzly pointing his shotgun at me, I hold back on leaping over the table. "I demand answers!" I add. I can only listen to the fire roaring and the groans in pain from the council members. They are in too much pain to move away from where the flamethrowers shoot. For a few minutes, I must to idle, and I continue trying to repress my rage.

Only when the fire stops and the council members are sprawled on the floor, much of their fur charred, the armoured grizzly says, "Now, he can see you." I scowl at him, my hands on the hilts of my Khopeshes, expecting him to make a move. He holsters the shotgun, but I keep my eyes on him and his partner.

Only by the time I am at the other end, I draw my Khopeshes, standing in front of the charred men. "I despise being manipulated", I growl.

The dog says nonchalantly, "I no longer have use fer them. Crowsridge will be better without them." There is no denying that they have been corrupted in their own ways.

I retort, "If you wanted them dead, you could've told me, and I would've done the deed." I clench my fists on the hilts. How tempted I am to slash him savagely. We both are running out of time, for the armoured grizzlies walk toward us, drawing their halberds and shotguns.

Willoughby objects, "True. But I wanted to _see_them die."

"I still would have if they conspired with criminals, namely the Lowell House."

"Speaking of which", Willoughby says. He gets up from the throne, to the side, to pick up the familiar disk. He presents it to me. "You earnt it."

I reluctantly sheathe both Khopeshes. That prompts the armoured grizzlies to put their weapons away. I am quick to take the disk as I scowl at him. I ask curiously, "What if I never return this to you?"

The dog scoffs. "You can toss it in River Numo if you wish." There is no statement to follow. So, I slowly pocket the elaborate key.

I ask, "Care you whot I find inside?"

Willoughby answers, "Only you should care whot you find. However, I will warn you: there might still be other people, driven to madness. You know whot happens when several people are confined in the same space fer so long." He is right. I examine the disk too long to know when he presents a stack of cash. Willoughby adds, "A more... real compensation fer yer services, Vigilante." I display my eagerness to take the money, and his reaction is a scoff followed by a grin. I just turn away, pocketing both the stack and the disk--

When Willoughby speaks, "I believe you are too kind, Vigilante. Something holds you back."

Without looking back, I orate, "Anger is not one of my weapons. Also, you wanted me to hold back. I wos a mere pawn in your sadistic game."

"But I expect the money to be worth the effort", he objects. He adds, "You will need your fists as much as your blades in the dungeon." I still refuse to look at him as he rummages through whatever he could have stored near his throne. He then reaches an arm over to me, presenting a large piece of metal. A half-circle connected to four circular bands. It seems to be made of gold. Upon reluctantly taking it, the weight indicates otherwise. I know just what this is. I hated using brass knuckles when I first fought with them as my weapon. Willoughby adds, "You can keep them if yeh like." That makes me wonder how he even acquired these to begin with... but that would waste more time than his tasks did already. So, I just walk past the same armoured grizzly, taking the brass knuckles with me. I can hear Willoughby follow. He thinks that I am out of range, but I hear him murmur something to the armoured grizzlies. I swear to the High Priestess of Mau-Re, if you double-cross me, Willoughby, it is you who will burn next.