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Epilogue

2 years later...

Despite what many hopefuls had wished, the war with the Shadow Legion did not end with the occupation of Olaraa. They quickly invaded the elven kingdom of Kitair to the east, and besieged them for most of the next year. Bart was left behind, and didn't get to participate in anything more than small skirmishes along Sanctuary's border against the forces occupying Olaraa's territories.

For the short time that Arion and Bart were in Sanctuary together, he knew that the ursar was always watching him. He could always feel his eyes on him, and sometimes when everything was quiet and Bart was alone, it felt as if something else was in his head. Perhaps the monk's policies of never reading other people's minds was revoked when it came to murderers? Bart would never know, and he didn't have the courage, or the stomach, to ask Arion himself. It was a great relief when the monk left for Kitair with most of his Order and the Highlord's forces to help with the defense operation, as it meant Bart was finally free of his ever-watchful gaze.

Arion returned to Sanctuary after the war ended in a victory for the Coalition. All the fighting had told Bart that his meager crossbow would not be enough if he ever got into a scuffle with the monk again. Arion could take on a giant in single combat, and fought against the Legion's most powerful sorcerers and demonic summonings. A simple-minded, magicless beastman like himself could never hope to compete with that. Not only that, but if the Shadow Legion ever returned, how could he hope to keep up with the growing number of so called "heroes" that had the power of the elements at their command? Bart needed to take steps to try to remedy the situation, and fortunately, there were others in the world who felt the same way he did, and there was a place just for people like him.

It was a small shop tucked into a corner of the Central District that belonged primarily to Sanctuary's citizenry. Bart had to crouch to get into the door, as the building was not built for him. It was smaller than a dwarven home was, and it was painful to be able to fit inside. He crawled forward on his hands and knees as he got to the counter, keeping his arms close to his body and trying not to wiggle around too much to keep from jostling all the strange and fragile looking objects on the shelves. He hoped that it was worth it.

Bart held up a small piece of parchment with some scrawlings on it to the shopkeep, a tiny gnome that had a thick, caterpillar mustache that concealed his lips. The gnome brought a pair of goggles down over his eyes before reading it and saying. "Ah, Mr. Nakamura. I have your Arcanotech Rifles completed. I think you will be pleasantly surprised by them. Just wait right here and I will retrieve them for you."

Bart nodded his head, and the gnome headed into the backroom. It was strange to hear him addressed by the name his biological parents had, but it was better than being called Stoutmantle by other people. After a moment, the gnome returned carrying a pair of weapons almost as long as he was tall. They had the butt and handle of a crossbow, but that was where the similarities ended. The weapons ended in a long, thick tube of mithril construction that were about the length of his forearm. Runes along the stock glittered as they were energized by the mana in the air, with one of them glowing orange, and the other weapon having a soft, blue-white glow.

Bart licked his lips when he saw them. When the gnome handed him one, it felt hefty in his hands, but nicely balanced as well. He could just as easily hold it with a single hand as he could with two. He was surprised the gnome could lift such a weight, but when he saw the being hand him the second weapon, he noticed metal gloves on his hands that sprayed steam as he lifted his hands up.

Some sort of steam-powered clockwork, he assumed.

"So how's this thing work anyways?" Bart asked.

"Let me show you," the gnome said as he set the other one down on the counter. "The mode selector is on the side. See how each rifle has a set of three runes here? When you touch one with a finger, that one will light up and the rest will go dim. Touch it a second time and it turns off, and the weapon begins to recharge its mana. Firing is controlled by the trigger mechanism below, which unleashes the gathered mana into a form you have selected. No, do not try it out in here!"

Bart lowered the rifle with a sheepish grin on his face. The gnome went to the back room and retrieved a large leather harness, which looked big enough to fit the ursar's girth.

"Here, you will need this if you plan to walk around with those things."

"Excellent. I cannot wait ta give these a go."

"Now remember, one of them uses an ice-magic base while the other is fire based. I had a dwarf aid me with the construction to make sure they operated just right, hence the price."

"Why would ye need a dwarf's help?" Bart asked casually.

"We gnomes understand the magicless better than anyone, so I can sympathize with your pain. There is not a single gnome in the entire world who can use magic. We simply lack the brain structure to do it." The shopkeeper shrugged. "Such is life. But that's why we developed mechanical inventions and arcanotech equipment. A being without magic in this world is merely food for the other races."

Bart paid the gnome and shuffled his way out of the shop. Once he was outside, he was easily able to slip into the harness. He was amazed that it fit so well, despite how little time the gnome had spent getting his measurements. The rifles slid into the straps on the back of the harness with ease. They didn't jostle around as he moved, and he was quite pleased with how they looked when he saw his reflection in the window.

Perfect. Let's see Arion try to beat me now. Who needs to be an expert marksman when I can just torch whatever I want?

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Bart headed back to the barracks he was staying at. The town was returning to some level of normalcy since the attacks two years ago, and there was an air of cautious optimism floating about. It was almost like he could go back to the old, carefree days when he didn't care what was going on around him. Almost. There was still the fact that Arion hung around, but fortunately, he had taken up residence across the lake at a town called New Haven with his family, so he wasn't around all that much either.

It certainly made it easier to sleep at night, as far as Bart was concerned.

When he awoke the next morning, there was a loud banging at the door. Feeling entirely nonplussed about answering the door in nothing but his skivies, he growled to himself and swung the door open.

"What the hell do ye want?" Bart shouted, reverting to common as he rubbed sleep away from his eyes. "Can't ye see some people are still tryin' ta sleep!?"

A blast of magic took him off his feat and sent him flying across the room. The fur on his chest was burned and singed, and he landed in a heap on the hardwood floor. The crash of his landing sent a shockwave that reverberated throughout the barracks.

"I finally found you, Bartholomew Stoutmantle!"

Bart groaned as he sat up. The last thing he wanted to deal with first thing in the morning was some uppity mage. His blinked back his blurry vision and tried to focus in on the individual standing before him.

He was short and wearing a heavy red set of robes. He held a crook in one hand, and had a leather belt around his waist that held all manner of pouches and his spellbook. A short, fat muzzle poked out from under the robes, and a pair of emerald eyes shone from the shadows of his cowl. Bart realized that the individual was an ursar. Not only that, but he spoke Dwarvish too, and remarkably well at that.

"Who are you?" Bart said as he stood up. His chest ached from the blast. He was starting to get sick of being attacked and injured by other people. What did so many beings have against him? He looked around and spotted his rifles on the floor beneath his bed. They weren't too far away, and he would likely be able to grab them before the mage could so much as utter a syllable.

"Of course you wouldn't know. You never gave a damn, did you?" The ursar's voice was a little higher than Bart's, suggesting that the individual was perhaps nothing more than a cub. How had a cub come to know the Dwarvish tongue so quickly? No doubt that he also knew Common if he was in Sanctuary. "You have no idea, do you?"

Bart shook his head.

"Then, let me shed some light on the mystery."

The ursar pulled back his cowl, and fully revealed his face to the light of the room. Bart squinted to get a better look, then almost gasped at what he saw.

It was like he was staring at a younger version of himself. The facial features and even the way the hair created a swirl from the top of the ursar's head was similar to his own. What caught him most was the eyes. They were green like his own. When the ursar smirked at him, it looked so much like he did when he gave that look to someone. His fur color matched the fur on Bart's muzzle and chest, but it was about there that the similarities ended.

The mystery ursar was remarkably short. If he was a cub, he was at least a foot or two shorter than he should have been. His build over all was stockier and more round than normal. His head fur was a stark orange color, which defied all logic, as ursar never had non-black hair.

"Who are you?" Bart snarled again.

The ursar gave that same Bart-like smirk again as his lips curled up to reveal his pointy, white teeth. "My name is Eryk Shimmerstar, son of Aina Shimmerstar, the woman you impregnated in the tavern and left alone all those years ago." His hands began to glow with a powerful aura of red and orange as he channeled a spell. "I've spent a long, long time searching for you, father, and now I'm going to avenge my mother after you left her to rot."

Aw no, this is going to hurt, was the only thought going through Bartholomew's mind as the room was engulfed by a fiery light as bright as the sun. He dove towards bed and flipped the mattress. It made poor cover as a blast of fire punched through the material, but it protected him from most of the blast. He grabbed the rifle with the orange runes and flicked one that looked like a dome with several lines coming off of it. He flung the mattress away and took aim.

"Have a taste of Meteor then, mage!" Bart howled as he pulled the trigger.

A thrum of magical energy collected in the tube and erupted with a bang as a ball of molten fire was propelled at Eryk. The ursar cub smirked and raised a hand, as if bidding the rock to stop. It came to a halt just an inch in front of him, and its form began to stretch and swirl as the magical energies were absorbed into Eryk's arm.

"What?" Bart gaped, seeing several lines of runic symbols shimmering and crawling along Eryk's wrist.

"Despite what people say, fighting fire with fire is rarely a good idea in literal terms," Eryk said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Fine then, have it your way you cocky little runt!"

"Isn't 'little runt' a bit redundant?" Eryk chuckled.

With a growl, Bart set Meteor down and picked up the other rifle, Frostbite, and squeezed the trigger. A lance of ice as fired almost silently from the end of the tube. It melted before it even reached Eryk, turning to steam in the air.

Not one to let up, Bart hefted Meteor in his free hand and switched the rune, this time unleashing a wave of flames from the tip and engulfing the ursar cub entirely. His other hand squeezed down on Frostbite's trigger, following up with his first attack.

"Do you know what they say about people who don't learn from history?" Eryk asked as the flames were absorbed into his outstretched arms.

"That they don't give a shit?" Bart said. He dropped the rifles and rushed forward to strike in melee with his claws.

Not expecting the maneuver, Eryk tried to run, but he ended up throwing himself off balance and toppling over on the ground. When he looked down at his feet, he saw them encased in a block of ice, effectively rooting him on the spot.

"Damn it," Eryk snarled, his cockiness fading. He feebly raised his arm to shield himself, and with a couple syllables, invoked an arcane shield to protect himself from Bart's paw.

The cub didn't expect that Bart would punch through in a single strike. Before he could do anything else, the older ursar's hand was clamped over his mouth, preventing him from saying anything.

"I've fought people who had brick walls for shields, cub!" Bart said, laughing triumphantly. "Let's see you cast a spell without those fancy words of yours."

The look in Eryk's eyes intensified, as a spark of light caught the green of his irises. He said "Okay," but it came out muffled with Bart's paw over his mouth. The ursar cub placed one hand on Bart's chest and a blast of fire erupted between them, throwing Bart back and shattering the ice around Eryk's legs.

"Thanks for the energy, old man," Eryk panted. He dusted himself off with his paws as the glowing energy around his wrists subsided. He tried to rise to his feet, but the barrel of a rifle was placed against his head before he could do anything else.

"Ah ah ah!" Bart cautioned as he pressed Frostbite's tube against the cub's brow. "Make any sudden movements or any sounds, and I won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

Eryk stared defiantly down the length of the barrel at Bart, the latter of whom found it slightly unsettling that the look in the cub's eyes was very similar to what he saw in himself when he saw his reflection.

Don't believe his lies, Bart ordered himself. There's no way this cub's my kid.

"Now then, I don't know how you got past the soldiers, or why they aren't coming up here yet, but I'm sure you'll answer all our questions once we get you in shackles."

Eryk glared at him. "You're not even going to admit you're my father."

"Nope," Bart said without hesitation. "Now then, stand up slowly and let's go. Got a nice cell waiting for sorcerers like you in the basement."