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The Good Die Young

Chapter 1 : A Happen-sword Stance

Sweeping a paw over the faded markstone, the young wolf tried to divine what he could from the worn out marble inscription. Divination was never his specialty, but then again at some point neither was using a sword and he caught on to that pretty quickly.

Among other things.

If those close by (and some close by had) had noticed just how well he had picked up certain things, they might begin to suspect something about the ebon youth. If the gray shaded and odd sickle marks that patterned his black didn't put him in the limelight enough, the fact that he wore an officer's kilt at the mere age of twenty tended to put him out there anyways.

"Why, what interesting and numerous marks you have!" A stranger would cry.

"All the more to tell you to shut the hell up about." The wolf would grumble.

But if he had any chance for divination, today wasn't the day for it to peak itself through. The wolf sighed and dropped his paw. Three weeks he'd revisited the Fujola cemetery, going straight to the soldier's memorial each and every time, hoping to have better luck. Three weeks, and all he'd gotten for his efforts was the unshakable scent of musty earth and the bragging rights of hanging out with a whole lot of dead people.

While most citizens were to be buried any discretion of length beneath Mother Goeth, soldiers were burned in magical, unnatural fire as way of tradition. As far as the wolf knew it was a cultural standard started by the Church back when military and religion worked in harmonious tandem throughout the states and tribes. It was a sacred rite as well, reserved only for the most honorable and accomplished of men and women, people that had given body and soul for state and country. Folks believed that the pale fire that swallowed the now decrepit husks allowed the soul of these indomitable few to completely escape their worldly tether, ascending skyward, only to be scattered amongst the stars and forever riding in journey from one ethereal spark to the next.

It was all a bunch of sentimental horseshit, as far as the wolf knew.

Kneeling down he noticed there was another plaque, initially positioned so it ran upwards right along with the other but time and weather had left it abandoned by history in the dirt below. It wasn't a surprise to the youth. With so many soldiers being killed these days, you could only expect so many to be tended while others inevitably fall to ruin. Swiping a paw over the gravel that coated the still-fine bronze, he was relieved to see he wouldn't have to try his epic divining skillz once more. The memoria was in the old tongue, which Tevlin was slightly unfamiliar with. But the words were simple enough to where he knew they read something along the lines of:

Here stood AMORI HART,

Brother, Comrade, Visionary

Though your life was short, and burdens many

May the freedom that was taken from you

Run long with the legs you helped unshackle

Your people may be lost, But you will never be forgotten

Old friend

How cute. The wolf snuffled, for reasons far below that of emotions. What had caught his attention initially and had him trailing back to that particular area of the vacant graveyard was not the cheesy inscription, but a curious mark it had on it's lower left hand side. In the stone were carved two crescents, waxing in opposite directions of one another - like a moon would look when being obstructed by an even smaller, spherical shaped object. It stirred the tingly feelings of familiarity in him, and the wolf wasn't a fan of tingly feelings he did not himself mean to initiate. As chance would have it just the other day when walking back to the academy he had bumped into the grounds keeper, some decrepit old terrier mutt that had been around as long as the city of Remo itself. The old man had mentioned noticing the wolf hanging around the grave, and after fighting the instinct to tell the old man he should spend less time watching little boys, Tevlin asked about the tale of Amori Hart.

"Ahh, the moon's doppel." ruminated the old dog. "He's best known around these parts for the advancements he helped make in mimic magic. Used to be most didn't know how to replicate a spell outside 'er base element without resorting to distortion magic. Which I'm sure a fellow of the military such as yerself knows is illegal. He was well-loved by most he worked with, colleagues becoming fast friends in the upper ranks of both the Military and the Thirteen Churches - a rarity to be intimately involved with both, truly. His people shunned him for the paternal dedication he showed to the other kingdoms, though. Exiled the poor bastard in the end and kept 'im from ever seeing his family again. He was the first magistrate of Isoglaus to ever be excommunicated without having most of his memory sealed away. Praise the Regents. Who knows if he would have helped as much and done what he did without his people's knowledge."

The old man was beginning to ramble, as old people tend to do,the wolf knew. So he broke in by thanking him for the history lesson but that he had to get back to his post.

"'course m'boy. Anything for a man of the state. I prefer your kind over one of those little sentinel puppets any day."

Thinking back, by 'little' Tevlin knew what the groundskeeper had probably really meant to say 'fucking terrifying'. But 'sents were rare around these parts these days, so much he doubted he'd even even see one as he strolled out of the gnolly cemetery and back to base.

"Exiled, huh?" He asked aloud. No one else was around, which the wolf thought was the best time for one to open one's mouth. "You went against the narcissism of your own people, and in the end were forced to lose your family." Raising a paw, he looked at the gray razors that he had become so accustom to, as one does to any part of their anatomy that they are faced with each morning. He knew they held special weight, though, in that they were a unique pattern of fur only belonging to one certain kind of people. A people the wolf never had had a better chance of knowing. The lost people of Amori Hart.

What about the rest of us? He thought at last to himself. Those that didn't do anything, but still never got to ever go back home?

The question had always hung heavy over the canine, one that he often tried to bury in paperwork or in the field with a sword, but had still managed to burrow its way back to the surface in all eventuality. His own 'exile' from the technological city of Isomere, in the kingdom of Isoglaus, must have been at such a young age, or during a time most traumatic, because the wolf didn't remember any of it at all. Only when the snow was heavy, and he treaded it with naked footpaws, did he sometimes experience a blinding sensation of loss. And if he whethered the pains long enough, they were soon to be followed by disjointed flashes of being in a church, its roof missing as if torn off and his legs sunk waist-deep in snow. Such opportunities for ruminations were rare though, and the youth didn't care for them much anyways given how unsettling and random they were in the scope of his usual dreams. After an 'episode' he was thrown off for days, and it showed in training. Still, they were the only link to his heritage in a way, even if they held an entrenched and buried secret that he was partly afraid of uncovering.

A secret that mirrored its way into his larger one, which was one that his and his master were all too well aware of and spent every waking hour trying to hide from both Church and and the state.

Walking through the drab city on a cloudy but less-than-slight-chance-of-any rain kind of day, he rather missed getting lost in the random cacophony of his thoughts. It was easy now, considering how utterly dead the city was. Forlorn skyscrapers reaching up as if to kiss a loamy gray, hanging over the empty lined vat that was every corner and every street, save for the occasional guard and a lone wolf that trailed its sidewalks. Every three years, the military hosted what was illustriously called 'The Trials'. A sort of barbaric tradition where people gathered in a coliseum and did their absolute best to try and sort of half-kill one another for the sake of prestige. The prestige could potentially carry them far, sure, in that if they impressed the attending generals they might find themselves getting an invitation to global operations. And who would've thought people attending an event to kill stuff would want to be rewarded with a chance to kill bigger things?

The wolf never attended.

It was illegal not to, on a technicality, that usually got one a swift punch with a steel-wrapped gauntlet, a month of jail time, and a bunch of local news stations pointing out how silly you are. But having a teacher that was also a magistrate of the state afforded certain privileges. It didn't keep the scarce guardsman that the youth crossed paths with from giving him nervous glances, but still, privileges. Like getting to stay out past local curfew, using magic in places it generally wasn't allowed, and public urination. Regents, that last one was always the best. Non-canines would never know the pleasure that was pissing on something that other people would have to pass and be forced to smell.

Rounding a corner, he wondered just how long Arc would be away at the 'festivities' while the wolf was left un-leashed. A few more hours before the old man was back and happily dousing him up to the scruff in paperwork, he was sure. Never had the wolf seen the man be happy except when making his life a living hell. If there was ever a reason for the magistrate to take an orphan as his apprentice, one without a people or a history no less, it would be for the sadism alone. "I won't let him dick with me, not today." He grumbled. "The moment he hands me those weeklies I'm gonna say nope, set 'em on fire, and dance around that little demon that's always trailing him and take another long ass fucking walk." The vulgar thoughts always helped, because all in all the youth knew he would never go through with it. Being unchained from the lower echelons of the state and taken in and given potentially fruitful opportunities by the blademaster was the best thing to ever happen to him.

At least he knew he'd never take responsibility for some random kid if he was asked, so some amount of appreciation was due, the wolf knew.

Broken from the hazed lineage of his thoughts, a sudden prickle ran up the wolf's arm. At first he thought it was just a salt fly, numerous as they were right before summer, and he gave a slap at his arm. But then another shiver ran up his spine and the wolf froze in place. He realized somewhere magic was being used. Being a good three miles away from the central collisea - where any fighting involving the manipulation of Eir was taking place - he knew the likelihood that any residual effects of magic reaching him were slim. Standing there, it eventually faded, but his feeling of unease did not. Turning around he thought "I'm missing something." Like not wanting to leave the house just yet for fear of forgetting the house keys, or forgiving to give Mr. Whiskers a bath. The next ripple of atmospheric Eir exceeded the conundrum of un-bathed house pets however, followed by a disturbingly sharp cry of pain.

The idea of grabbing a guard crossed his mind, though it was the less practical of the options since the noise was coming from nearby. He knew it was only his laziness that egged him on to get one in the first place, and he didn't like to think himself too lazy of a creature. So, very begrudged and uttering a word that should not be said at a child's birthday gathering, he turned the nearest corner and headed towards where he thought the noise had originated. All in all it was most likely some angsty teen, exulting his few 'passion'-filled noises during what was to be his first time. If a first time could ever be considered to be had with a Remo-ian prostitute, the wolf decided to leave the question up to the philosophers.

Walking past Chef Seymour's Flower shop, the trill of tickles danced along his fur and flesh once more. He froze and place, and looked steadily around. To the side of the shop, there jutting out was a dubious break in the wall, hidden by what looked to be some result of poor architectural design. Edging past it the wolf saw that it led into an alley that ran between the flower place and a local gentleman's club (whose placement had always been an odd one to the wolf). Listening, he waited. He almost lost what little resolve he had mustered in the first place and began to leave when the faint call of what might have been whispers reached his pricked ears. Looking around for an unfortunate guard that he could pass the responsibility off to (as he did outrank them), the wolf sighed, deciding the burden would have to be his.

He took a step into the alley.

"You're gonna see some kids junk and then it's gonna be stuck in your head all day." He growled at himself. But his steps were not deterred, motif unknown even to himself. If only for the sound from earlier that kept resounding in his head, a creature most vulnerable making a desperate call out in pain. The wolf didn't have a white knight complex, that was for damn sure, the only thing he thought he'd ever get out of saving a damsel in distress was a crappy cape - torn and woven from his pride as a loner. But that voice, it wasn't normal. It was as if it was attuned to some particular soul in mind, someone like him. The more he replayed it in his head, the more he heard a part of himself in that plea, and the faster his steps grew.

Maybe that's what lead him down that murky path, one of greater resistance. Walking with a swift subtlety as he placed a paw on his broadsword without unsheathing it. His weapon had certain magical...edifices to it, and taking it out now would make him a dead giveaway in a two-hundred yard radius, even to those with the magical proficiency of a sock. Stealth tactics were never the wolf's strengths, but as he got closer to the corner at the end of the alley that didn't seem to matter all too much. He heard someone talking under their breath, clearly too occupied with something to be listening to eavesdropping wolves.

"Pretty mouth you've got on you there boy. Keep yapping it like that and we'll see what else ol' rusty here has got to say."

Peeping an eye around the edge of the wall, Tevlin got a glimpse of this 'old rusty' the voice made reference to - a demure rat hoisting it around menacingly. The name was a peculiar one, because it happened to be one of the most pristine, well-kept daggers the wolf had ever seen.

"Can't let 'em talk too much though, hehehe. Still gotta have you tell me where you gots that sweet, sweet piece of yours."

Partially obscured, but still mostly visible, Tevlin saw a half-naked coyote pinned against the wall. His tail was down, but oddly his ears were still perked up - showing no fear if he happened to hold any in light of his current position. Aside from a minor cut bleeding on his upper shoulder, he looked to be unharmed. Suddenly the wolf felt very much out of place, and silly, and began to turn to leave until the jackal pinned against the bar wall spoke up. "Oh, is that what you wanted? Well you're going to need to turn me around if we're ever going to get to that part of me friend."

The rat cursed and smacked the canine across his skull, thought to one-up himself, and slit another line across the jackal's back. The canine let out a gasp again, the very same one Tevlin had heard earlier, making his blood freeze and boil all at once. Unknown apprehension warred with feelings of sudden warmth inside of him and he wondered what the hell was going on.

Not the situation in particular. Rats hanging around alleyways cutting up random folks are bound to be crazy bastards, but he didn't understand what was happening with his body. In his mind. He knew he wanted to leave. He was shouting at himself, proverbially kicking, practically frothing to turn around and just go home. And still he stood there, watching what would happen next.

"Smartass. Bet you won't be so mouthy when ye balls are three feet from your donger, hanging down your neck with that pretty little necklace of yours."

"Wai-" The jackal was interrupted, the rat jerking him around. Now the ears swept back, tail folding between his legs. Tevlin for the first time was greeted with the stranger's face. He was young, younger than him. Maybe if only by a few years. Interestingly fear made no mark on his face, not that it meant much considering the acrid stench that was coming off of the captive in waves. And on the terror-stricken jackal's neck hung an orange-furred monkey's paw, tied loosely with what looked like hair. Suddenly the wolf's hackles rose a mile high, magic surging in the air as energy trilled across his skin and Rhyme began humming excitedly on his back.

That's not supposed to happen...

The rat spun around, stained dagger in paw as he called out "Oi, 'hoos there?"

Tevlin stepped out from the alley entryway and directly into the duo's view. He walked steadily, hands in pockets and posture relaxed as can be. If you were to temporarily forget where you were, you would think the wolf was wearing a Smuggy McSmuggerson cosplay at a Variety of Chilled Woofs con. The rat pointed the dagger sinisterly at him, but made no motion towards the wolf.

"Well, this is awkward." Spoke the warrior.

"Like hell it is." The rat snarled. "Just who do you think you are, walking in on another man's business?"

"A business?" The wolf looked perturbed.

A glimmer danced across the rat's beady eyes, and Tevlin got the feeling he was in for a self-righteous display.

"Aye. I've got a missus mouse back at home along wit me three boys and little girly whose just got a foot out of the nursery. You think I like lurking 'round dirty alleys, sticking holes into people?"

Tevlin crossed his arms. "So why do it? The sticking part, I mean." He asked, genuinely curious.

"Cos you go around and tell folk that you've got a family to feed, and what's the first thing they say to ya? 'Get a job, you mangy, lazy lout!' So I go out and get meself a dayger, and now I've got meself a job!" The rat's tail was whipping around wildly.

"I see."

"And what's your excuse lad? Why're you keeping others from doing their jerbs?" The thief raised his dagger a little more pointedly at the wolf, more pointedly than he really cared for.

The black wolf unfolded his arms and cleared his throat, beginning to walk towards the poised rat.

"As an officer of the state and direct representative to Magistrate Arciele Magomo, it's my job to keep senile rodents from shoving daggers into the cityfolk. Even if it's their 'jerb'." The wolf stopped, the rat's knife now resting lightly against the center of his vest. "So, it seems we have a conflict of interest." He looked down at the mustelid character, who didn't seem beleaguered in the least, mirroring his own defiant apathy.

"That's for damn sure!" The jackal suddenly cheered from the alleyway corner. Both wolf and rat met him with a twin stare of daggers, sharper than the one currently in the rat's claw, and making the canine fold his ears back down and look stupidly off at a nearby brick wall.

"I can see why he's a little cut up."

"Are ya kiddin'?" Said the rat. " 'ese lucky he had me. Any of the regular goons and he'd be chopped liver right now."

The villainous rodent steadied the blade once more against the wolf's chest, as if resuming their conflict. "But back to us." He confirmed. "Looks like the state's trying to put its hand down on the working folk once again! Tryin' ta keep the rich and magistreets and what-have-yous nice and fat. Well, I's ain't havin' it! No ser!"

"Oh?" The wolf mused, looking down at the mustelid with disdained humor.

"Aye, so I guess this is the part where I kill you nice and good, yes?"

"Something like that." Tevlin mumbled. He took a quick step back, too sudden for the rat to fully follow as he plunged the knife forwards, managing to only bleed the empty air. As he uselessly stumbled forward the wolf brought forward a balled paw and slammed it to the side of the rat's muzzle, making him trip backwards while he let out a cry of shocked pain. Too busy was the rat reeling from the blow that he didn't notice the wolf touch the top of the hilt to the sword on his back, still however managing not to draw it. The rat snarled, muttering something about hitting like a daffodil's pantyhose, and rushed forward.

Or at least, he tried to rush forward.

"Eh?" He blinked.

Looking down, much to his horror and the wolf's amusement, the rat saw that his feet had become encumbered in what looked to be at least six thick inches of glassy ice. He jerked and turned but as far as the three attendees could tell, he was rooted in complete totality. Only able to move, twist, and thrust his upper torso and arms. The rat threw his dagger at the wolf, missing while he cursed.

Tevlin let out a harsh laugh, whatever humor that was in it previously now gone. "What did you think was going to happen here, exactly? You essentially brought a knife to a slaughter. Everyone knows the military trains all of their recruits in the use magic."

At words so sure of themselves, it was as if at hearing them the reality of it all had just dawned on the rat, and abject terror broke out in full on his turgid muzzle.

"But you 'idn't say a single word for an incantation!" He pleaded. "I would've heard! And there's no...there's no water...I know you can't make this type 'o ice without water..." He looked around helplessly, eventually bringing his frantic gaze to the kneeling jackal off to his side, who just shrugged and stuck his tongue out at him. The rat didn't seem to care, at least not in rightful comparison to his current predicament.

"That's simple really." The wolf dropped his paw to his side and started over to where the jackal was deposed on the ground. "I conjured it."

First things first, he thought. Get what you came for, I guess, and get the hell out of here. But then the wolf stopped in minor epiphany. The rat was disarmed, but what if he had another little dagger stowed away and read for use? Biding his time until after he helped the victim up and left with him, the rat would pull out the sharp steel, chip away at the ice, and come and stab the wolf in the most unpleasant fashion in his back while he was hauling a hundred and eighty pounds of jackal. The foresight from battles past came to him like second nature. No, I have to nip this in the bud now. The rat made his choice the minute he took the first plunge of the knife at an officer of the state.

The rat was bubbling furiously in attempt to cope. "Conjure?" He sounded exasperated. "Conjured?! You can't be a day over twenty though! Nobody youer age knows how ta conjure up an entire element all willy nilly like this!" He waved his claws around excessively.

"Well then" said the wolf, bringing an odious paw up in the air. "I guess I'm special." And at that he snapped his fingers. A horrible shattering sound followed, a mixture of what sounded like glass breaking and bone snapping while ice, fur, and blood flew everywhere. The rat fell down to the ground and screamed and screamed and screamed.

"Holy shit..." the jackal half-whispered, half-choked while the wolf bent behind him and began undoing the zipties.

"All of the bones in your legs are broken." The wolf called out lazily after the jackal was freed. "I don't know if you have any companions, but if you want them to find you before a guard does then you should probably stop that screaming. Otherwise keep on keeping on." He hoisted the jackal up then, eliciting a harsh grunt from him. Probably from the red smiles running up his shoulder and back thought the wolf. The upper back wound bleeding somewhat profusely still. Looking around expectantly for maybe a torn shirt to help staunch the bleeding, the wolf eventually decided they'd have to leave as is, lest he had to deal with thinking of an interesting explanation to tell a city guardsman.

Oh, you see officer, a depraved old rat pointed a near-useless dagger at me so I broke his legs with a complex magic conjure.

He shook his head and turned down at the rat one last time.

"In all probability, you'll be discovered by a guard first. They check these little hidden parts of the city relentlessly during festivities. When he does, and when you get taken in for medical treatment, don't let them mend your legs. Because afterwards you'll be taken in for interrogation, and they're quite good at finding out what they want to. And once they do, your life will be hell from that point on."

Tevlin walked over and shoved the estrayed knife into a fold in his lower kilt. They might take the blood that was on the weapon and trace it back to the jackal, and the wolf didn't want to have to deal with that drama either further down the road.

"If you don't have legs that work though" the wolf continued "then it won't be half as bad. It'll still be a different kind of hell, sure, but more manageable. And even though you'll be imprisoned you can still get compensation for your new 'disability' in order to feed your family. So, you're welcome."

The wolf motioned for blank-faced jackal to follow. Mouthing a silent 'let's go'.

"Mah legs..." Pleaded the writhing mustelid, as he clawed feebly at his tattered and bloodied limbs. "Please, my legs..."

"Yeah yeah, no sense in living in the past." The wolf gave a reassuring pat with his footpaw on the rat's shoulder and then wolf and ex-prisoner took their leave.

The stranger jackal seemed okay for the most part, after the wolf gave a cursory look over his wounds on the sidewalk. The one on his shoulder was deeper than he thought, and would need to be cleaned and stitched up. But the wolf was confident that he wouldn't bleed out before they got back to the academy. "You're better off than he is, at least."

The jackal shook his head, confusing Tevlin slightly. "Are we really going to leave him back there? I mean, what if he dies?" The worry for his potential murderer irked the wolf, but he just shrugged, checking his pockets to see if he had chanced to pack some emery shards. The little crystalline verdant pieces did wonders for healing wounds, big or small, but were incredibly hard to come by, as they were outrageously expensive despite being only available to military personnel. Some gauze would even to do right now, if only to stifle the bleeding seeping into the golden fur on the jackal's lower back.

"We really need to do something about your shoulder." Muttered the wolf.

"Well?" The jackal pressed.

"Huh?" The wolf looked up, seeing that the jackal held a deep pair of hazels. Only people from the farthest reaches of the southern states had green eyes. A part of the world well far away from the mainland they were currently in.

"Your eyes are green? Where the hell are you from again?"

The jackal crossed his arms, and given the context of essentially now being in the wolf's custody, the black canine found the display of defiance almost absurd.

"Nuh uh. Not until you answer my question first friend." He had an interesting accent that the wolf had trouble placing, something between southern and cloverfolk...

"You know, a guy offers to buy you a drink, and you think 'Well isn't that swell? The people around here are quite nice." The jackal went on. "Then he starts to get a bit handsy with your chest and your neck and you think 'alright, maybe a bit too nice.' And then before you know it, you're in an alley shoved against a wall being some lad's makeshift voodoo doll while he talks incessantly about how some damn government doesn't have it's priorities in the right place and how he was going to start the next social revolution. And you're thinking 'Surely I'm dreaming, surely I'm not in some alley being prodded by a man while he discusses the pink petiteness that is his daughter's wittle tail and how they grow up so fast by the time they get their first period and-"

The canine's rambling was bordering on the line of hysterics, and the wolf didn't think he had the inertia to stop him. Being an only wolf facing the growing shadow of an unstoppable landslide, the kilted warrior did the only reasonable thing one could do in a situation such as his and brought up a paw, bent it backwards, and smacked the jackal mid-sentence across the muzzle. Hard.

The stranger looked wide-eyed at the lupine, and the wolf wondering if he was going to have to draw his sword this time. But a different sort of assault came, one with terrifying speed and from such an angle the warrior was not prepared to intercept it. The youth brushed up against the wolf, successfully wrapping his arms around him and entangling him in an abdominal strangle of sorts.

"I'm sorry...did I miss something?" Asked the wolf uneasily.

The jackal pulled back and gave a hearty laugh, wincing and glancing a paw over the injury on his back. "Not at all. It's just good to see there are decent people in this city after all."

"I guess it's a relief you have good manners then."

"Not good manners, just a good sense for taste."

"Right." The wolf dusted himself off. "So, look. The nearest hospital that isn't closed down for the festivities is like eight miles away, so we'll just go back to the academy since we're already close by."

The wolf looked up, expecting a nod or a grunt of agreement, but instead he got an odd little sideway cock of the head on the jackal's part. The wolf suddenly got the impression that he was talking to an overgrown infant.

"You're confused." He stated flatly.

The jackal rubbed his arm, looking self-conscious for the first time. "Err, well yeah. I'm not really familiar with this place, being a big city and all, and I don't think I've been in a city where they have what's called 'an academy'."

Fortunately the wolf's sword was hanging on his back, for if it was in his paw, it would be on the ground along with his jaw. "Where are you from, exactly?"

"Not here?" The jackal offered with a wry grin.

"Alright." The stranger was becoming more and more of an enigma that the wolf didn't feel terribly comfortable unraveling. "Well, most of the mainland cities are governed over by the three reaches of the Military. They pretty much oversee what we can build, the events we can host, and basically anything that costs money. Because, chances are, the check's coming from them."

"It's not so bad. They're pretty lax, so long as we keep the academies they place here swamped with recruits every year, which we actively train for the upper ranks. When said time actually comes for them to decide who gets to join their damned ranks, they host a competition in what's known as The Trials. People in whichever cities wherever can come and compete in them, as long as they're on the registrar with a city that has a militarized academy in some fashion."

The jackal made a motion with his paw, and it took the wolf a minute to realize he was raising his hand.

"...yes?"

"Yeah, lovely explanation, but aren't academies usually reserved for, uhm, academics?"

The wolf couldn't help but laugh. "Why give a person a proper education when you can give them a sword instead? So the military's motto goes, though they'll never admit it. There's a war to be fought, and I know you know that at least, no matter whatever the hell kind of backwoods you crawled out from."

The jackal flinched at the term 'backwoods', and it made the wolf even more slightly curious.

"Makes sense." The stranger chirped. "But sheesh, you folks need to learn to liven up a little. Been here only two days and already I've been dragged off and tied up in an alley, had a rat try to chop of my prick, and seen a man get his legs blown off all in one afternoon."

The wolf nodded. "Yeah, it's been a slow week. Things usually pick back up again after The Trials are over." The wolf gave the jackal a dangerous smile, but the canine seemed unphased. Without missing a beat "Should we be going?" The stranger asked, laying out a paw which pointed in a direction that wasn't anywhere near that of the academy. Pushing down the ambitious appendage the wolf said "Of course." and began to lead the way.

The walk was mostly a quiet one, sparsely broken by the occasional inanity of the jackal or a mild curiosity on the wolf's end. Apparently he had no home, no real stable form of income, and wasn't 'technically' registered in any of the mainland cities. What was even more interesting is that every time Tevlin tried to push towards what the jackal did do exactly, he simply waved it off by saying things that all equated to 'travel'. But travel where? thought the wolf. Where the hell was there to travel to and from that was worth anyone's interest in this gray city? He knew he couldn't mean outside the city walls, as that's where the creatures roamed.

The stranger was still too much of a wild card for the wolf's liking. Which is precisely why he lied earlier about the hospital, and was glad the jackal wasn't familiar enough with the city yet to know that there was one just a block away from where the wolf picked him up. The small amulet that jangled across the jackal's chest is what the wolf figured ultimately had gotten him tied up with that rat back there. And it's what had him tied up in the wolf's interest now. He recalled briefly to the moment that his sword had charged to life and gave his hiding spot away. Only one other item had ever caused Rhyme to flare up like that, and that was when an instructor during lesson had brought out an old breath-lock artifice that an ancient civilization had used to exist under the oceans. He remembered the old coyote saying something about how back then the surface of Goeth had been charged with way more Eir than it is now, and as such there were more powerful and dangerous fantastical beasts that had roamed the forests and roads.

A civilization thought to bypass the terrestrial threat completely, creating powerfully imbued items to help them survive underwater. Items so powerful, they made his blade more excited than a moth that wanders into a department store. And an item, as powerful and maybe even as ancient as the old civilization, now hung carelessly just a few inches away from him.

How dangerous could the surface have been? The wolf's thoughts wondered back to the lost people. More potentially lethal than today, where men are deployed daily to cull the beasts near the borders and seal the rifts that they ravage and manage to reopen? Was it really so bad back then, when they didn't have to deal with the terror that were the eidelons? At least magical beasts could be killed. Eidelons just kept rampaging and devouring magic until there was nothing left to devastate, or on the off chance someone had actually managed to close a fully opened rift.

The wolf was interrupted from his thoughts by a suddenly very vocal jackal.

"Hhhhheyyy!" He shouted jubilantly, despite being right next to the wolf. Said wolf's paw immediately darted out and constricted itself around the source of the noise, effectively cutting it off. "It's no wonder I found you in that alleyway." The wolf said in a low growl, letting go. The jackal rubbed the spot, not really bothered but his pep clearly stifled. "Sorry...you just seemed like you were having one helluva daydream. Just wanted to let ya know we're here. I think."

The academy was nothing exceptional, at least in the wolf's mind. It was a mere twenty-six stories high, taller than any other building in the entire city as it towered over and outward, watching with it's stone-gray walls and black-blue stained glass windows. It was like a chapel that had lost its religion, having an assortment of stone creatures that lined the roofs rather than any biblical pinnacles or marble-work. The windows panes were that of onyx, spindles of light blue arcing through it like split lightning. A morose contrast to that of the traditional stained glass, which tried to affectate living flowers rather than dead ones that had had a bushel of blueberries massacred over it. Indeed, the wolf's master often joked that this was the place where the demons bedded their fancies, though Tevlin knew his master only made the remark because it was a sexual one. Most people stood in awe in their first time seeing the Remo academy, much like the jackal did now standing off to the side (and not without a little bit of drool trickling from his black muzzle).

The wolf thought it was okay.

"Should probably get inside." He grunted. "Think the city's grown a little tired of seeing your naked self."

The jackal turned to him, expression blank. "But I'm beautiful."

Inside, past the great oaken double doors that opened with a slight push, they were met in several strides by a stone wall that lacked any such door, or any door at all really.

"I think they placed the wall on the wrong side of the room." The jackal mentioned.

"No, they just don't want anyone to get inside."

The jackal looked looked over at the wolf, a whimsical expression on his face. "Well I guess we're off the pot then, aren't we?"

"The what?"

"When you go to take a shit" said the jackal "the situation is generally considered a bad one if you fall off it during the excretory process. There, how'd I do? Good enough explanation for sociopathic magical wolfy over there?"

"Stop talking please." Tevlin took out his sword and placed the tip on the stone. He knew it was the jackal's first time seeing the arcane weapon, which is probably the only reason that he actually kept quiet. Two reams of silver metal jutted out and paralleled one another, branching from and ebony hilt. The hilt which had a two-prong guard and seemed to be made out of some type of stone, with carvings in it that were covered mostly by a worn linen wrap. The twin steel blades started out wide and remained that way up the length of the three and a half foot long blade, coming to a pointed meet at the tip. Along the shaft the metal from both sides mingled and interacted with each other, creating various stenciled shapes and symbols in between. Gravelly spindles of black and blue encompassed the silver-wrought blade as well, giving it a sort of beautifully diseased look.

But the wolf knew what caught the stranger's attention wasn't the arcane design of the blade, but the way the hollow symbols filled with a blue glow as it touched the wall.

"There are runes inscribed in the wall by the archi-magis that built this place. Are you familiar with rune scribing?"

Unsurprisingly, the jackal shook his head. His ignorance when it came to all things magic while holding something as powerful as he did around his neck was troubling. It meant either one of two things to the wolf - the guy was a complete liar trying to deceive him by feigning ignorance like he did with the rat, or he really was as naive as an unsharpened pencil.

"They're not much different from a normal spell casts." The wolf explained. "Only that they usually last about an hour or so before they become useless. Unless it's a skilled scribe, then the runes can last pretty much indefinitely."

He continued pressing the blade into the black stoned wall, until the tip of the blade began melting into it, like a hot poker would butter. "These were made by one of those scribes." A group of symbols were set afire around the sword's point of entry, mirroring its blue glow and firing off an incandescent crossfire of lines that ran every which way, forming more alien symbols inside runic circles, triangles, and squares. The wolf was familiar with several of the runes, but was ignorant to the meaning of the majority. Not only were they ancient but he couldn't be bothered to learn a syntax and language that was all but useless to him in the field of combat. It was like those pretentious eggheads that spent their free hours in their dorm rooms, learning Latin just so they might 'entice' a female that has the ill fortune of straying into their immediate path. The yellow jackal standing right next to him though seemed just as awestruck as he did when he first saw the stone-wrought academy just several minutes ago. The wolf couldn't escape slight swell of pride he felt at introducing these wonders to another person whose never seen them.

"Don't get around much, I take it?"

"Eh?" The jackal twitched an ear and stared at the wolf, looking as if the canine wasn't just another canid like him and instead was a truck approaching at top speed.

"This is all pretty standard knowledge. I mean, most kids in this city know all of this before they even hit puberty. I was just wondering what your excuse was."

Tevlin meant the words as a nonchalant jab, not to submerged the stranger-jack into a deep, lonesome well of thought. Which is exactly what they apparently did.

"Uh, not really." The jackal said after a while. "Just sort of been going where my feet take me I guess. Never really care where I end up." He chuckled slightly. The wolf gave a look, which the jackal must've mistook for pity (really it was just good old disbelief), because the next hastened words out of his mouth were "Oh bullocks. Don't look at me like that. The man without a home is the man that holds the most freedom out them all. I like my life, whether you believe me or not." A sharp silence ensued, making way for the final rumbles and scratches the stone barrier made as it disappeared into the adjacent walls. Walking through another set of doors, the wolf fell in step behind the jackal, netting him a curious look but no objection. He however was forced to come to an abrupt halt as the canid in front of him stopped dead in his tracks.

"Is that...?" The jackal asked in with a murmur.

Looking around Tevlin immediately saw what the issue was. "What, her?" He asked. "That's just Margaret."

Stepping ahead the wolf sauntered up to the desk, casual as can be, and greeted the red-haired older woman sitting behind what looked like a reception desk. He said a few words, as the jackal rushed up quietly from behind.

"I thought you said everyone was at that colliseo thingy-ma-jig!" He said in a whisper that was not very good at its job. The wolf shrugged. "Well yeah, sure. Everyone 'cept for Marg, she's always here. Isn't that right Marg?" In answer, the petite woman raised up a glass filled with a liquid that brought her professionalism into immediate suspect. She then began clicking away noisily at the keyboard before her.

"One guest for stay, officer Tevlin?"

"Yes."

click clackity click

"Will he be staying overnight?"

"Yes."

clack clack click

"Is he a new recruit, or...?" For the first time since they'd arrived, the receptionist looked up, and gave the wolf a look of absolutely unsubtle coyness.

"Yeah, just a potential recruit."

"Hmm." Was all she said.

click clackity clack click clickety clack clack clack

"Okay hun, you're all signed in. Oh, and master Arciele would like to see you after supper tonight, so long as you have the time."

The wolf grunted and began walking away, but before he could the woman added "Oh and there's another note on here, from master Arciele himself, that 'If you should so happen to not manage to find the time for the upteenth time in a row, consider yourself banned from the officer's recreational lounge for the next two weeks.'"

Grunt became sigh and the wolf gave Margery a baleful look. "Noted, thanks again Marg."

"You know where to find me." She said with the resignation of a thousand imprisoned souls.

The wolf heard the jackal scramble to catch up to him, either after realizing he was the 'potential recruit' that had been referred to, or when he saw that the wolf was leaving him.

It turned out to be both.

"Look, guy, I'm glad for the little show back in the alley, really." The jackal spoke in a calm, jittery tone. "But I'm not here to really be recruited, per se." He thought a moment and added "Or whatever else you might've had in mind." The wolf was astounded how lewd and articulate the jackal could be with mere hand gestures. "I just came here to get stitched up, pay you the damages, and be on my merry little way. Okay?"

"Gotcha."

The wolf took this opportunity to take a break and stop, stretching as he turned to face the jackal. The canine, confused and simply staring, did not expect it when the wolf suddenly sank down low, and swept a foot under the jackal, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"WhoauhahhHHH!" Came the shout with a thud, and before the jackal could so much as begin to look up the dark lupus was on top of him, quixotic sword drawn and its lower edge pressed thinly against the pinned canine.

"I don't know who you are, I don't really care." The wolf spat. "But stop lying. You've been idly exploring between cities? By yourself, unarmed and without being able to so much as summoning a butterfly's fart-worth of magic? Really? That says either you take me for a complete dumbass, or you're too much of one to know that that's not possible." The jackal began letting out what might havee been a protest but Tevlin just tightened his grip and growled. "Shut up. You think you left that alley back there? You never really left, you're just out of someone's hand who clearly didn't have any idea what he had. Until I find out who and what you really are, and how you got that artifice hanging around your neck, expect to have a blade to your back when you shit and when you sleep." Searching the jackal's eyes, he saw them dart in consideration. He anticipated another lie, or another half-commitment to the truth that really told the wolf nothing and if anything just set him more on edge.

But instead he saw acceptance, a sort of quiet resignation that said to the wolf that the jackal knew he was just doing what he had to, and that belied a level of empathy and intelligence that completely caught the wolf off-guard.

"Alright."

Eyeing him a second longer, the wolf eventually lowered his sword and got up, offering a paw to the jackal. Interestingly he took it without much hesitation and began dusting the non-existent dust off of himself. The wolf started back towards their destination of the medical variety, and the jackal followed, some bounce still in his step. After a while he even piped up, despite the recent near-decapitation. "I know we're not exactly cool or anything, but since we're going to be spending a bit of time together it looks like, do you mind a proper introduction?"

The wolf sighed, but decided to give in. "Sure. My name's Tevlin, and my comrades call me Tev. You're not anything close to that, so you should probably only use the first one - for your own sake."

The jackal simply chuckled. "Okay, my name's Rex. Nice to meet ya Tevlin."

"Satisfied?" The wolf grunted, turning back around. As the fates would have it, satisfaction for the childish jackal was not to be, for when they reached the glass door to the infirmary, and before the wolf could so much as slide the key into the little brass keyhole, Rex asked. "And one other thing, if you really don't mind?"

"I really do."

"What, uh..." The pause made the wolf's turn to look at Rex, only to see him rubbing the back of his head with fervor.

"What exactly was up your eyes back there?" He asked quietly. "You know, when you gave me the little heads up or whatever. I've seen a lot of crazy stuff, but nothing quite like that."

"How do you mean?" Tevlin asked, a deep sinking feeling gnawing a hole in his stomach, telling him he already knew and had no idea how to begin to explain himself.

"Well, your eyes. It was as if for a minute, the whites had gone...it's like they'd turned black. The color in your circlets was still gray, but it was like they were being eclipsed the angrier and huffier you got."

Tevlin's skin prickled, hackles rising, but he played it off. "You must have hit your head pretty hard. That, or those wounds on your back are getting pretty serious. I wouldn't have put it passed the rat to lace the dagger with poison." He pushed the key in and turned. The locks were really a formality at this point, as if to make the inhabitants of the military outlet feel less alienated amongst all the bizarrities that magic brought. But for some reason whenever the young wolf forgot his key, they didn't care for it much when he kicked the door in with a well-placed kick. Tevlin noticed the remnants of such fiascos catching the jackal's eye as they entered the chrome clad room.

The jackal scratched his head, stupefied. "Why is everything..."

"Chrome?" The wolf offered.

"Yeah."

"Makes it easier to clean the fur. Also the head resident doc has a fetish for watching himself as he slices into people."

"That incredibly disturbing."

"Really? I think it's endearing. Get up on the table."

The jackal complied, hopping up with a slight wince causing the wolf to notice that when he tackled him earlier he must have reopened the larger of the wounds, as the entirety of the canine's back was bleached red. The wolf tried to ignore the feeling of guilt welling inside of him as he searched for gloves.

"I can't do medica worth a damn, so you're going to need to bite into something while I do this. Needles entering un-numbed skin don't feel so great."

Rex's head immediately shot up, and he looked the older wolf dead in the eye. "You are not going to stick a bloody damn needle into me without giving me a shot of something first."

The wolf rubbed his chin, feigning a ponder. "Without any medical history and two deep wounds caused by an unknown source...I'm afraid it wouldn't be in your best interest to have any hard drugs into your blood stream at the moment."

Rex sat up. "Bullocks. You saw the freaking weapon that sliced me open. It's just drugs. Drugs. Say it with me now. Druh-uhgs. Great for when you're underneath the weather, and even better when you're not. Now just grab the nearest thing that ends in 'ine', close your eyes and jab the damn thing into me. Better yet, let me do it." He began to shimmy off the metal table, but the wolf took a paw to his chest and forced him back down.

"Mangy cunt!" The jackal let out in a defeated squeak, and the wolf began to laugh. It was a deep, but happy sound and it caused the struggling canine to freeze.

"Damn, that's even funner than doing it to one of the rooks." He said, walking over to a drawer and pulling out a small clear vial filled with liquid. "Having you here is going to be better than I thought." The wolf pulled out the syringe and the jackal grimaced.

The 'procedure' went smoothly. Tevlin was never naturally proficient at the medica aspect of magic but he did excel in the art of triage. His hands glided simply yet smoothly, lacing both the wound on the jackal's shoulder and upper back closed without so much as slight tense here and a grunt there. Whenever he did, the wolf did not miss the way Rex gripped and toyed with the monkey's paw around his neck. It felt like minutes to the wolf, and he wondered if the jackal would hold up, but after he said 'alright' and began throwing away the bloodied gloves, Rex said "Wow, done already?", sincerely impressed.

"Spaced out already huh? It was only Novocaine I gave you."

"Naw, it's not the drugs. You're just really good at that is all."

The wolf quirked an eyebrow. "Get sliced up a lot, do we?"

It was meant as an off-hand joke, but the jackal suddenly looked embarrassed. The wolf hesitated a moment, then walked towards the jackal and gave him a reassuring pat. Rex gave him a timid glance. "Don't worry, I can sympathize." Said the wolf as he tugged down his collar, exposing a thick white line that ran from his right upper shoulder and disappeared down into his cloth-covered torso.

Then he coughed and said "Lets get out of here. You'll probably want some food before Arc comes by. He'll want to talk after I tell him about all this. Go ahead and grab a shirt out of the drawers over there, unless of course you want to keep being 'beautiful'."

The jackal simply obeyed, stricken by a sudden silence. The wolf shrugged mentally. After cleaning up the last finishing touches, they walked out into the hallway, Tevlin closing but not bothering to lock the door. They went down the corridor in a continued silence, one that had more place at small child's funeral than it did two young males who'd recently met. Leading from one ensemble of wheelchairs and spare gurnies to another of whiteboards and locked doors, they must have gone for ten minutes like that, soft padding on the wolf's part and leather moccasin-crunching on the jackal's. So as not to break from his knack, Rex broke the silence.

"Where did you get that?" He said in a voice that was only slightly above a whisper.

The wolf immediately knew what he was referring to.

"Fire."

"I thought magic users knew how to protect themselves from other's magic?"

"It was a natural fire." Suddenly the wolf didn't want to be there.

"Oh." Rex said, becoming quiet again.

He anticipated the inevitable follow up, the inane curiosity that others always seemed to have. Never paying any mind to old wounds and how their questions tore them open anew, so long as they could have their damned curiosity sated.

It's what you get for showing an ounce of sympathy, the wolf spurned himself. Should have kept playing the cold-hearted bastard, since it's the only part that seems to work."

Which is why it was all the more surprise to him when the jackal instead asked "So what happens to me now?"

The sudden redirect caught the wolf off-guard, but he just cleared his throat and shrugged. "Arc will probably decide most of that to be honest. He's a magi, and he has contacts within and outside of the city. So it won't be hard to find a place to put you up for a while. If you have a sniff of Potential or for actually becoming Actualized, he'll probably give you a formal invitation to join the military and the ranks here at the academy. I don't recommend the latter to be honest, the benefits are great but the holidays around here suck."

Rex took a moment to process the wolf's words. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

The wolf eyed the monkey's paw that dangled loosely outside Rex's newfound hospice shirt. "And we'll need to do something about that necklace of yours." He said. "It'll be more than a conversation starter with the magistrate, and I don't want to have to deal with the paperwork when he hands you over to the archmeister and they want to know how and why I found you and brought you back to a state facility."

The jackal suddenly tensed harder than he did when the wolf was sticking a needle through his torn flesh. He grasped the trinket around his neck and took a defiant pose. "Do what you like with me, wolfy, but the necklace stays."

Tevlin looked at his companion as if he'd ripped off his own leg and thrown it at him.

"Wolfy?"

"The. Neck. Piece. Stays." The jackal said, firmly, and apparently afraid the wolf was hard of following along monosyllables.

"Regents, you're a pain in the ass!" The wolf exploded. "I almost killed a guy and busted my tail to haul your skippy, blood-soaked ass back here, and now you're giving me flak for this? Do you realize how much blood I got on my kilt? Do you know how hard these things are to replace?"

The jackal seemed unmoved however, and even had so much the nerve to clench his other paw into a tight fist, clearly readying himself for something.

"It stays." He stated once again.

The wolf threw up his hands, beyond giving any sort of a shit. "Gimme it." He made for a grab.

"No!" The jackal backed up.

"Give it here!" The wolf rushed at the smaller canine, making for a few more unsuccessful grabs. Soon they were nothing more than a dance of blurred brown and black, with a hint of gray, circling the hallway. Bumping into doors, shoving one another into a plate glass window here or a ceramic tile there. Fatigue had weighed down heavily on the wolf and amplified his usual default irritation, causing his daily threshold for jackass little jackals to be breached. He reached to his back and drew his sword in one slick motion.

"Not even going to give you a shot of Novocaine this time." He marched towards the canine, managing to back him into a corner. But before he could raise his sword in a false, warning arc, the jackal raised a hand, one paw still on necklace, as a light green efflorescent ball burst forth along with a sharp whistling noise. Suddenly the wolf felt lighter, and then completely weightless, eventually realizing that he was now looking down at the jackal from several feet as a howling gale roared through his ears. They both stared stupidly at one another like that, Rex seemingly as stunned as Tevlin, until the wolf finally offered "Put me down?"

The youth complied, dropping his paw, and with it a shouting wolf. Despite his recent peril Rex rushed over to try and help up his assailant, but was pushed away for his effort.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Guess we don't need to see if you've got the knack for magic." He mumbled. Though he didn't know if it was entirely true. Something was obviously awry about the monkey's paw that hung from the jackal's neck, and that degree of atmospheric manipulation from someone as apparently new to the use of magic as the youth was was unheard of. Either the artifice was engorging the jackal's Potential with Eir when it was touched, resulting in a prowess he did not really possess - or it operated as some kind of trigger. He decided to leave the detail to the magistrate later.

"Uhm, my bad?" Rex said sheepishly.

"No worries, all the rooks make mistakes." The disheveled wolf said, sheathing his sword and adjusting his kilt. "Just don't do it again outside of the practice grounds, or else I'll kill the shit out of you."

The wolf's dorm ended up being just a hallway down, and he all but swore he heard a tiny 'squee' come from the jackal as soon he opened the door. First thinking that he saw the meager cot lying at the other side of the room and was preferred to draw his sword once more, but quickly saw the true object of the jackal's affection as he danced over to the teleglobe sitting on the entertainment stand.

"What channels does this thing get?" The jackal asked, sounding like he was treading on the line of either a heart attack or an orgasm.

"Everything from ESPN to 'Whose Fourth-Dimensional Parallel Is It Anyways?'."

"It's been so long since I've seen one of these bad boys." Rex said in a doggish whine. "I need this..."

"Go for it." The wolf yawned and stretched. "Mess hall won't be open for another couple of hours anyways. Man, this whole festival thing is a huge pain in the tail." Tevlin collapsed on the cot, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his head. He didn't even mind when he felt a weight press down next to him and begin its own ritualistic sighs and stretches of relaxation.

It was only a few minutes before he was floating towards the heavier scape of sleep, when he heard a voice ask "Hey Tevlin?"

He creaked an eye and saw that the canid was looking not at him but directly up at the ceiling.

"Yes Rex?"

For the first time since he met him, the jackal actually seemed to be weighing his words carefully.

"Back in the city, I don't know why you did what you did..." he trailed off, at a slight loss for words. "I guess...besides all that, I don't know why, but I'm really, really glad I met you."

Somewhere in his head an old sentiment began to stir, a small girl's giggle from a life past. That was the second time anyone had ever said those exact words to him.

At first Tevlin began to smile, then broke out into a light chuckle, and then full-on laughter.

"What's so funny?" Rex asked, sounding more curious than he did offended.

"Nothing man." the wolf said simply. "Just watch the teleglobe or go to sleep."

And at that, the wolf took the latter of his advice and drifted off for good.

---

Gosh Tevlin, you are such a jerkface.