Future ChargeIn a side pocket within the Lucid Altar’s cavernous reaches, Scurlock settled down on a flat stone as he watched over a pack of Geodes wrestle and play with each other. A single, bright lantern cut through the dim gloominess of the cave, revealing its flattened floor. Few small stones or even pebbles jutted out of the ground, making it a perfect arena for the Geodes to sharpen their claws on each other. The walls, rounded and smooth, glittered with hints of precious stones and metals. Even the stone that Scurlock laid on flashed every once and a while as the lantern moved subtly, its light touching the stone with brief caresses. “I’m the leader of the Strata now!” declared Mantella, a young Geode who was visiting for the day from Fluorspar. She glowered at the others from atop a small rock. As she struck a valiant pose, inhaling to puff out her chest, the rest of the Geodes screamed and chirped in protest. Kt threw themselves onto the stone without hesitation, claws screeching against the hard surface as they clambored to shove Mantella off. “No! This is my rock!” yelled Mantella. “You just kicked me in the snout!” huffed Valentine. “You can’t use breath in Leader of the Strata! No fair!” wailed Kt. Galahad, unseen by the others, snuck up from behind rock and bit down hard on Mantella’s tail. She yelped in response, slithering off the rock. Scurlock lifted his head, making sure the bite hadn’t drawn blood. As he watched the Geodes, now running in circles around their rock, he grumbled as he saw a bruise developing around the bite mark. “Hey!” he shouted, and immediately the Geodes stopped in their tracks, piling into each other as they all turned their attention to Scurlock. “Be careful,” he growled, the light swinging to accentuate his face perfectly. He let loose puffs of his pneumir from his wispy ears. “You’re playing with other Geodes, not a Fugulisk!” “Sorry, Mister Scurlock…” echoed all of the hatchlings in unison, some more earnest than others. For a heartbeat, they all stared at each other, trying to avoid his gaze, but it didn’t take long before Valentine playfully swiped at Kt’s ears. The play fighting resumed immediately, though they avoided the rock now. A movement in the corner of Scurlock’s eye caught his attention. A red, black and cream Geode approached him from the side, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. Scurlock quirked an eyebrow and waited for the Geode’s next move. “I-I’m Olivin!” the Geode finally said, his voice cracking a little towards the end. He stretched himself up on his tip toes, ears just barely reaching over the rock. “I’m gonna be a knight someday. Just like you!” Scurlock couldn’t help but crack a smile at the little scrap in front of him. “You’re gonna have to do a lot of growing, then,” Scurlock said, pulling himself up on his paws to stand at his full height, his coiled tail bobbing up and down. Olivin’s jaw hung open as he stared up at Scurlock. “And a lot of training.” “I can do it! I’ll grow big and I’ll do all of my training!” Scurlock chuckled heartily, and then swooped the star-shaped tip of his tail down to scoop up Olivin. The Geode squeaked in surprise, instinctively biting to get a grip. Scurlock deposited him on the stone next to him, sitting down on his back legs. Olivin gazed at his new view, staring down at the other Geodes scrambling around in the cave. “Do… Do most knights babysit hatchlings?” “Not all the time,” Scurlock said. “Most of my days are patrolling and drills, practice and exercise. Sometimes, though…” “You said you would be the seeker!” Galahad snapped. “Did not!” Valentine shouted. “We can’t play hide and seek without a seeker!” Kt growled. Scurlock smiled. “Sometimes I get to envy how carefree you Geodes are!Belly fo the Beast“I can’t believe this guard had a favor from dad to cash in, on New Year’s Eve of all nights…” Bryon hissed quietly into Scurlock’s ear, flicking one claw in a small gesture to dampen the noise of his speech using his magic. Scurlock shook his head at his brother. “I know, what are the odds… but our family doesn’t leave debts unpaid, and there will still be plenty of festivities tomorrow night. It's just guard duty, I’ve done it before,” Scurlock said, eyeing the Pouflon Captain in front of him. It had struck him as odd that this seemingly random Captain had managed to curry favor with their father, but the signature on the card was real. Scurlock had seen fakes, and the one presented to him was genuine as could be. Their family was lauded for their accountability, having never broken a promise, and Scurlock was determined not to break that now. But this is an awful long way down for a cell. What kind of prisoner is this? The stairs seemed to stretch on forever, each clack of hoof and scrap of claw sounding off like a scream as the noise of the world faded to nothingness in the distance. This far down, the lantern at the Pouflon Captain’s side seemed more like an alarm flame than a comforting light. Its light made the darkness beyond even deeper, and Scurlock felt his brother’s ears pin down, tail twitching with fear.The air tasted of dust, thick and cloying on the roof of Scurlock’s mouth. “Aaaaand… here we are!” the Captain announced cheerfully as they landed at the bottom of the stairs, finding themselves in a pitch dark room, save for the faint, magical glow of runes etched onto the cell bar at the back. The Captain reached his lantern up and hooked it onto the ceiling, revealing a bored-looking Pouflon who nodded at the Captain, ignoring the two Vespires. “Let’s get going,” she said, casting one look back at the cell with a scoff. The Captain and the relieved guard started walking back up the winding stairs. “Oh! And don’t forget, boys,” the Captain said over his shoulder as he left. “Don’t say a single word to that prisoner in there. ” With that, the brothers were left alone in the room, save for the occasional, quiet clink of chain from beyond the cell doors. Bryon stared at the cell bars, his brow furling in thought as his eyes traced the runes. “These are… old,” he finally said. “Esoteric, even. And strong. The amount of magic this would need could…” “Bryon?” “Sorry. I’m just thinking out loud. It's creepy down here,” Bryon confessed. He’s not wrong. “Well, one on each side, I suppose. If the magic is strong, this should be an easy night, right?” Scurlock said, almost hopefully, but Bryon didn’t reply. Instead, he sat down on the right side of the cell bars, eyes flickering in small motions. Scurlock knew that face: his brother was lost deep in thought, and there wasn’t much he could do to snap him out of it. Shrugging, Scurlock took up the right side, and silence wrapped around them. For a time. A much louder clank from a heavy shackle snapped Scurlock out of his daydreaming, and he looked over to see Bryon also staring back at him. He turned his head even further, studying the darkness beyond the bars. Something moved in there, but he couldn’t quite make out a shape, at least not one identifiable. He frowned, though, as something about the form seemed… Familiar? “Hello… Could you tell me your names?” a voice seeped out from the cell bars, interrupted by a crackling cough. The voice itself sounded almost distorted, reminding Scurlock of the few times he and Bryon had climbed too high into the atmosphere while flying, and their ears would pop any noises they tried to make out. “And perhaps… some water if I am lucky…?” No water? Even for a prisoner, that’s… “Scurlock,” Bryon whispered urgently at his side. “Stairs. Now.” Following his brother over, Scurlock noticed a water barrel over in the corner. He took a mental note of it, and unfurled his wings to block out their conversation from the prisoner. “Scurlock, he sounds like-” “Dad?” Bryon nodded grimly. “I know. Not like a doppelganger, like… a brother. A relative?” “I’m not sure, but those runes- Scur, the amount of magic in them could kill a mage if anything went wrong with the spell.” “So they definitely don’t want that thing getting out,” Scurlock concluded, looking back briefly at the cell. “Well, if the magic is as strong as you say, it should hold steadfast. I won’t talk to them, but I’ll give them a little water-” “No!” Bryon’s eyes widened in shock. “If they’re keeping them weak for a reason, I don’t want to find out why.” Scurlock felt his head start to pound, something in the air felt wrong to him.But his gut also told him it was inhumane to treat a prisoner so poorly. “Look, a little water won’t do anything,” he said, letting his wings dissipate. “Just a bit. And then we go back to watching the cell in silence.” “No, no, this is madness!” “I’m doing it, Bry, and you can’t stop me,” Scurlock said, suddenly determined. “I’m pulling the older brother card here.” Bryon watched nervously as Scurlock padded over to the water barrel, popping off the top and pulling up the ladle using his minute magic. The ladle glowed in a marbled swirl of black and yellow magic, dipping into the water and coming back out with a full scoop on its own. Focusing on his magic, Scurlock delicately made his way over to the cell to make sure not a drop splashed onto the stone flooring. “Just a ladleful,” he said back to Bryon, and pushed the water into the cell for the prisoner to lap up. “Just a ladleful…” repeated the prisoner, heavy chains shifting and dragging against the stone.A Swift MomentErasmus stretched luxuriously as he settled down into the bay window, snuggling into the warm blankets he had piled up. Rain clattered gently across the window pane, and he looked out through lidded eyes at the fine mist the rain had created, hugging the surrounding buildings closely. His Bukkwheat yawned and rested its head down on his haunches, still licking its lips from the candy he had treated it with earlier. The serene peace lasted a good few minutes before Erasmus’ ears twitched at a sound: the thump thump thump of young Pouflon hooves on wooden flooring. He buried his snout into the blankets, hoping that if he kept quiet it might deter her.His attempt was in vein though, and he knew it as soon as the sound stopped for a moment, followed by a weight landing daintily on top of his head. Another, lighter and softer weight fell on top, too. “Uncle Rasmus! I’m bored” Poppet declared, using one front hoof to dig his head out from under the covers. His pupils shrank as light pierced his eyes. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about it?” “Make me not bored,” she said, sinking into the blankets as Erasmus pushed himself into a sitting position. Poppet’s doll, Puppet, fell over into her hooves, and she dragged the doll underneath her. She stared up at him with her usual blank look. “Well, I was enjoying the rain,” he grumbled. “Can’t Celia play with you?” “She’s busy talking to Uncle Locke,” Poppet said, her ears twitching curiously as she turned her attention to the rain dripping down the window. “How does rain happen?” “Er…” Erasmus scowled, searching his brain for an answer that wasn’t there. “I’m not sure, actually. We’d have to ask Celia. She’s smart about those kinds of things.” Poppet’s ears fell backwards for a second as she thought deeply, and then she fell back into a sitting position, letting herself lean on his Bukkwheat, who curiously sniffed at her before curling around her. Erasmus let his scowl soften, and dragged his tail up to coil around both of them. “Maybe if we watch the rain long enough, we can figure it out together, Poppet.”A Stranger in the RanksCrane meandered slowly through the halls of the royal barracks in the heart of Chrysanthos City, her small bag of things shuffling around on her side. So close to the very core of Pouflon society, her mind echoed visceral thoughts reminding her that she was a stranger here. Even the carpet below her claws felt strange and unnatural to her- it was tamped and flat, accommodating the hooves characteristic of Pouflons, unlike the flocked rugs in her Strata’s tower, hiding the minor damage that their claws did over time. Staring down, she could already see the tiny indents marking where she had walked. Absorbed in her own thoughts, Crane ran headfirst into another recruit. Dazed, she stepped backwards and shook her head to clear it. The other recruit stood tall before her, a brown and cream Ursuki whose body bisected at the middle with a golden coil. He looked down at her with a scowl that quickly lifted into a slight smile. “Oh you’re rather lost! This is Chrysanthos City’s Royal Academy, I’ll show you the door-'' his chipper statement got caught off as she snorted, venting out a huff of her pink pneumir. “I’m not lost!” Crane growled, pulling up to her full height, her mountain-rugged muscles flexing to show off her physique. “I’m a transfer student. From Banelaire.” “Oh, well-” the Ursuki said, stepping back to get a better look at her. “... is this the best Banelaire can send? You’re hardly a challenge for Sir Bearington, the best Knight of the lands!” “You’re not much more than a scrap yourself!” Crane rebuked, though she could feel agitation building up in her throat. A fleeting thought raced through her mind, reminding her of when Celia taught her how to count to ten to calm herself down. A fleeting thought, indeed, as Bearington raised his training sword, she stretched out her claws and narrowed her eyes at him. “Bearington!” A sharp, commanding voice sliced through the tension like a hot knife through butter, and both recruits jumped, ruffled fur quickly smoothing out. A much taller Pouflon walked between them both, her coat adorned with muted browns, grays and whites. Underneath impressive antler-esque horns, her eyes glared down at Bearington, piercing through him. He shuffled uncomfortably in place, sheathing his sword. “Don’t you have drills to attend, Bearington?” the Pouflon asked, prompting the Ursuki to nod and immediately bolt in the other direction. Crane stuck her tongue out at him as he retreated, but quickly withdrew it when the Pouflon turned towards her. “Don’t mind Bearington, his experience hasn’t caught up to his ego yet,” she said with a chuckle. “My name is Marleau, what’s yours?” “Crane,” she responded, letting the tension in her muscles melt away. “You said you’re a transfer student, right? Someone told me that there was a new initiative to swap students between Chrysanthos City and Banelaire.” Crane nodded. “Then I think you’ve got an initiation ceremony to attend to! Let me show you the way.”A Lick of FireWood cracked against wood, Crane’s training sword crashing against Auster’s own wooden sword. The edge of Auster’s sword splintered, a wooden chip flying off the edge. His eyes went wide as he stepped backward with the force of Crane’s push, digging his hooves into the sand of the training ground. She gave no ground, and this close together, Auster got a good look at her face, so unlike the Pouflons he was used to. Her Vespire face narrowed down to a tapered nose, accentuated by midnight fur lined with purple and blue streaks. Her pale, pink eyes sparked with a flame that shocked him by the intensity, and Crane jumped on his distraction. She relaxed her strength for just a moment before exploding forward. With renewed energy, Crane surged upwards and slammed back down with all of her weight. Her sword met his before the rest of her came crashing down, all of her kinetic force channeling directly to his bones through the fragile wood. The sword cracked open down the middle while Auster crumpled down to the ground, his brain scrambling as the force coursed through him like a shockwave. He dropped his sword instinctively and gasped, while Crane beamed down at him. “Y-you know it’s just training!” he exclaimed, shakily standing up. “You don’t need to, um, go so hard…” Crane dropped her sword next to him, looking down at him quizzically. “What’s the point of practice if I don’t give it my all?” “Not to harm each other, for one!” Auster responded, working his way back up to standing, albeit with trembling knees. Crane stared him up and down, leaning close to sniff him. “But you look fine? And I don’t smell a hint of blood on you! Come on, we can go another round!” Auster groaned as Crane snatched up her sword and ran to the other side of the training area once more.