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Chapter Two

"Aramil! Aramil!" The young golden-furred page came running up, his squeaky voice calling out across the training ground. "Abbot Vianit wants to see you!" He stopped short, panting heavily in the sunshine, his small chest heaving.

Aramil turned, the soft brown eyes gleaming. "He does? Well, let me head on up there." He sheathed his longsword and walked the two long strides to the bench he had set up, taking a dipper from the water pail and drinking deeply. It was a beautiful sunny day and his tongue lolled out of his muzzle. Is today the day that I will finally be sent on my quest?

_Patience. A true Son of Heironeous knows patience and humility. You have worked hard, but you must bide your time. They will call on you when they feel you are ready. _ But even the voice instilled in him by his long training couldn't quite quell the hope fluttering in his chest.

"Do you think you'll get your quest today?" The young pup's tail wagged slowly as he grinned up at his hero, echoing the very thoughts in Aramil's mind.

"I don't know. Let's head up there and find out, Aema." Aramil reached out a large, white hand-paw and ruffled the pup's golden hair. Aema's tail wagged faster, and a grin spread across his lighter muzzle.

Aramil picked up the bench and bucket, carrying them back inside while the young boy chattered on about life in the monastery. Aema was new there, his parents no longer able to afford feeding and caring for him. It was a problem amongst the poorer dogs in the nearby city of Ugasor, but the monastery was always willing to take on young males and train them to fight in the name of the savior, Heironeous, god of light and justice. Aramil himself had wondered many times what his parents had looked like, how they had felt when they deposited him on the monastery steps as a newborn pup.

He had been raised here by the Son, and he couldn't complain about his life. They had instilled in him all of the virtues of the order and he had trained on the longsword since he was old enough to stand on his own. It felt like only yesterday when he was in Aema's shoes, running up and performing page duties, passing along messages and fetching dinner for Abbot Vianit, a wise old dog whose fur was white with age and whose eyes were filled with wisdom and kindness. It was easy to love him, and easy to obey him. Aramil had truly been born for this life and had never chafed at it, not once.

Now he was old enough that it was time for him to be sent amongst the people of the world, to preach and teach them of the wonders of Heironeous and to fight to protect them from the myriad dangers, not only from the evil minions of Hextor but also from the roving bands of Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls that plagued the countryside. Not for the first time he wondered where he would be sent once he was actually sent.

The coolness of the monastery building was welcome, and Aramil deposited the bench and water bucket inside. Together he and the pup walked up the stairway, passing by another younger pup who was wiping down the floor with a rag. They passed by a few knights of the order, and Aramil tilted his head in greeting, murmuring the words, "May Heironeous's light shine over you," in a soft voice. The knights nodded back, and resumed their hushed conversation. In the building even young Aema's chatter was at first subdued, and eventually petered out. Their footsteps echoed in the hallway as they walked up to the Abbot's office.

"Well, I hope you're getting to go, although I'm a bit jealous," the young pup whispered.

Aramil chuckled softly, a smile blooming on his white muzzle. "Me too." He ruffled the pup's hair again and stepped inside.

Abbot Vianit sat behind a massive desk filled with parchments, and his icy blue eyes glanced up at Aramil's entrance. "Please, Aramil, come in." He gestured with a greyed-over tan paw to the chair before the oaken desk, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards briefly.

Aramil walked in and sat before the desk. "You wished to see me, Abbot?"

"Yes, yes. It's funny how time flies. You have become such a fixture around here that I oftentimes forget that you must needs go on your quest to become a full Knight of our Order. And so, I have called you up here to speak to you about that very thing." Here the Abbot paused, and Aramil waited quietly for him to continue, years of training in patience paying off. "You see, you are unusual amongst our people. Never have I seen one so dedicated, so called to this life. And so, instead of handing you a mission I have a far more subtle challenge for you. I will send young Aema to pack your stuff and ready a mount for your travels, while you go to the Sanctorum and pray. Pray to our blessed Heironeous for guidance, and see where his hand steers you. And once you feel you have completed your mission, return to me."

Aramil stared. A challenge like this had never been given in all of his years of living here! He remained seated until Vianit excused him, a faint smile playing on the wizened muzzle. Aramil stood, bowed numbly, and left the room.

He headed directly to his chambers to change into the robes suitable for an evening of contemplation in the Sanctorum. He stripped off his dirty trews and shirt, baring his snow-white chest and brown shoulders and back, ruffling his long fur. He pulled the white robe over his head, and padded downstairs in bare paws, slipping into the small chamber quietly. He lit a candle before the effigy of mighty Heironeous and settled down to pray.

He stayed there for untold hours, his muscles cramping up, releasing, and cramping up again. His stomach growled but he set his mind to ignoring it, pushing his awareness inwards, searching for the matching flame of inspiration within his own breast to the tiny candle flame before him. Others came and went, praying and seeking insight for their various troubles, but he paid them no mind.

And just when he started to doubt himself and his ability to see this through, a faint sensation washed over him, tugging him. It pulled him north-west, pulling him up to the border of Indovias, the Canine lands, and the Feline lands of Brinaea, but it felt like it was calling him further than that, along the very border itself to the east. He knew not what awaited him there, he just knew that was where he was headed. Wearily he opened his eyes, and watched as the last of the candle burnt out, the flame disappearing in a puff of smoke. He would leave straightaway and wouldn't rest until he had met his destiny!