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Cahal was walking along the main road of the city that he protects, yelling orders for the guards to prepare for the visit from the King and His family in a few days, but those times were few and far between. Sometimes, the Duke that he was accompanying yelled out instructions to get something in a certain way, just to please himself. And while they were walking past, the Duchess subtly ordered to change it to suit the King, like she knew what Cahal wanted to do and what the Duke also wanted.

Not only that the city needs a brush up, but all of the guards need to pull their ceremonial armours out of the storage rooms. Well, not exactly needed, but the Duke "highly recommended" it. And all of the guards knew that when the Duke highly recommends something to please a superior, he means that he wills it to be done.

But all of the guards were busy either protecting the populace or helping the populace sort the place out for the King. Not to mention that the highest ranking guard from the nearest town of Whitcliff would also be attending.

Sometimes, Cahal wishes that he didn't get to Guard-Captain so quickly.

When everything was set and reset, the guards went back to their regular duties, although some went off to polish their ceremonial armours. Cahal went to just outside the gate, taking up an unofficial lookout point alongside the two guards stationed out there.

About thirty minutes later, the three could see a traveller in the distance. This traveller was in a guard's general armour

When they got within a few metres of the gate, it was there that Cahal completely recognised the owl.

Reinhelda, the best shooter in the Program. And by the look of her, she recognised him.

Cahal motioned for the guards atop the wall to open the gates,

"Long time, no see, Cahal." Reinhelda said, smiling slightly.

"Same here, Reinhelda." Cahal replied, also smiling.

She spied the long scar that ran over Cahal's eye and up to between his ears. "You became uglier. Didn't know that was possible."

"I could say the exact same thing for you, Reinhelda."

They walked through the open gates, said gates closing behind them.

Cahal motioned towards the bag. "The ceremonial armour, I assume."

Reinhelda groaned, her eyes closing as she did. "Yeah. It's heavy lugging it around for days." She replied.

"I can see by the layer of dirt on the regular armour that you've been doing that."

"I always loved walking to places. Never liked riding."

"And from the look of it, it was clean before the dirt piled on."

"I had to wash the damn blood off of it after a Raider attack. Didn't want too much work cleaning it up."

"How did that happen?"

"A Raider got too damn close to me. When I shot her, she shot blood back at me." Reinhelda explained.

Cahal laughed heartily, prompting Reinhelda to push him, which caused him to laugh more and his tail to flick.

Reinhelda lightly tapped Cahal's bicep, getting the wolf's attention once more.

"Have you found one you like yet?" She asked, whispering.

Cahal shook his head, prompting Reinhelda to curse quietly. He knew he was lying, not that she knew that.

A male leopard in guard's uniform was running up to the two. It was the Guard-Lieutenant Faysal, the Guard-Lieutenant of this city, and one who came from across the southern ocean, if the odd design of his bronze sword is anything to come by, along with the oblong hexagonal shield he held in his left paw, a whole bunch of symbols that only Faysal knew what they meant. The leopard called the sword a kopesh, but no one else cared to call it by that. Faysal skidded to a halt in front of them, looking at Reinhelda. The white headdress he wore covered only the top of his spine, the symbols on the shield also embroidered into the top section of the rough cloth of the headdress. A metal hoop was on one side of his head on the headdress, the matching hook on the hanging piece of rough cloth that Faysal uses to cover his muzzle when a battle takes place.

"So..... what the rest were saying was true, then." Faysal said, his voice thick with the accent from over the southern ocean. The accent that the ladies of the city swoon over. Hell, Cahal had to admit it, even he once fell in love with the accent, but was soon knocked out of it.

Cahal narrowed his eyes and flattened his ears. "Saying what, Guard-Lieutenant?" The wolf asked.

Faysal stood up straight. "That one from the Arquebus Program was coming." He replied.

That was when both Reinhelda and Cahal burst out laughing once more, earning both of them a curious look from Faysal and any passers-by.

"Have you told them, Cahal?" Reinhelda asked.

Cahal, too busy laughing, shook his head.

"Told us what?" Faysal asked.

Cahal calmed down enough to speak, but still giggled every now and then.

"I was also a part of the Arquebus Program, Faysal. Left before its completion." Cahal said.

Faysal squinted his eyes at his Guard-Captain, analysing if he was telling the truth or not. And also with how Reinhelda was nodding her head, it seemed unbelievable.

"But you should not tell anyone else, got it?" Cahal ordered, being stricter than normal.

Faysal nodded, even committing the guard's salute extremely quickly, to be understood.

With that done, the leopard continued his patrol, with any young women he walked past swooning over him, especially the cats.

Reinhelda nudged Cahal softly with her wing, winking. The wolf gently pushed Reinhelda's cheek, causing her to mimic silent laughter in that moment.

Eventually, they found her a place to spend the nights and to give her time to clean the ceremonial armour.

____________________________________________________________________________________

A few days later:

They heard the trumpets in the distance.

Everything was set up, the guards were waiting to get into their ceremonial armour. Cahal ordered them to do so quickly, as he was already in his. Green gambeson with the sigil of the Duke they served, a golden broken spear, emblazoned on their chests, the green symbolising the city which they guarded. The steel pauldrons on his were hefty and, overall, generally impractical, but also served as the way to identify his rank quickly. The sword at Cahal's hip was more of a good looking decoration than a weapon. A twig the size of his paw would be a more effective weapon than the piece of crap he had on his hip.

Reinhelda's was different. Her gambeson was brown with the golden broken spear, the brown meaning the Whitcliff area while the town itself being a part of the Duke's hold, represented by the broken spear. Her pauldrons were the same size as Faysal's pauldrons. Her arquebus was slung over her shoulder on the strap, her wings almost itching to take ahold of it once more. Faysal just had a useless kopesh on his hip, similar to the one made for battle except less flashy than Cahal's sword, yet again noting the rank difference between the two. A pretty shield was on his back, also an oblong hexagon and made of a weaker wood than the other, sporting more prettier versions of the exact same symbols on his battle-ready shield.

When the guards were in their ceremonial armour, they lined the route towards the Duke's keep, two still up on the battlements for the winch to the gate. The townspeople flocked towards the lines of guards, trying to get as good a view as the rest. Cahal, Faysal and Reinhelda stood behind the Duke and Duchess, two skunks who only want an end to the war, standing just outside the threshold of the keep.

The trumpets reached a crescendo near the gates but stopped, mainly because the gates were blocking their way through. The two at the battlements knew this and worked hard to open the gates in a hastily manner. When the gates opened completely did the King's escort continue. The trumpets flared to life once more, the King's Royal Guard circled the carriage which the King and His family rode in, one of the Guard holding the reins of the King's white horse.

The masses cheered as the King was escorted in, the King and Queen-Consort waving to the crowd inside the carriage. What the crowd couldn't see was their five year old daughter, who was hiding inside the carriage and was known to not like these types of outings. This differed from the Prince where he would want to go to palaces and keeps all around the world with his trusty entourage.

The trumpets stopped when the carriage stopped in front of the Duke and Duchess. The door opened and the King of Kespian, his Queen-Consort and the Princess stepped out. The Duke, Duchess and the three guards all knelt for respect to the King while he stepped out, the rest of the crowd doing the same.

The King walked over to the Duke, the footsteps of Him and His family filling the void of silence. Even though He wasn't in armour, Cahal knew that He has it with Him. When He got to the five in front of the keep, the King lowered his right paw down, outstretched, in front of the Duke. The Duke, in turn, clasped the King's wrist in his own, being careful to not rip the King's sleeves with his claws, and was hauled up by the King, prompting the rest to stand.

"Milord." The Duke said, letting go of the King's wrist.

"You got everything ready, We see." The King replied, smiling and using the Royal We.

The Duke chuckled. "Not everything yet, milord."

The King raised one eyebrow, the royal jackal confused about what the Duke meant.

____________________________________________________________________________________

That night:

The banquet was held out in the courtyard, the Duke's cooks using the keep's kitchens to serve up fine food for the city's residents and visitors. The Royal Guard kept close watch over the King and His family, while the guards of the city kept watch over the rest and the usual patrol on the ramparts. The jovial atmosphere, coupled with the music, brought even the King's and Queen-Consort's spirits up for the few hours that this has been going on for.

But even the happiest of times can come crashing down.

"Milord!" Someone yelled from within the crowd.

The music stopped playing and the atmosphere dissipated. The King moved his head so that he could see who said it. He saw a dirt-caked messenger from the warfront running up to him through the crowds, a dirt-covered message in their paw. The messenger looked exhausted, breathing heavily as well, so the King took the message from their paw and ordered one of his Guard to take the messenger for a good rest.

The King read what was written on the message. Outwardly, his expression remained the same, but inwardly, he was shocked.

'Baldasarre II, King of Kespian,

After all these years, I have hoped to end this six year long war between our countries in a peaceful manner.

I only learnt very recently about where your son was taken, and sent one of my retainers to rescue him and get him to my palace, where he is safe from harm.

I wish to see you on the battlefield. Not to fight, but to talk.

Amano Masamoto, Shogun of Uslijan.'

The King folded the message softly, but the Queen-Consort knew that the fire burned behind his eyes. He turned to the Duke, whispered a few things to both the Duke and Duchess and stormed towards the carriage. Now having his armour with him, along with his voulge, he took four of his Royal Guard and galloped out of the city on his white horse, the four Royal Guards riding after him after they mounted their horses.

The jovial atmosphere that surrounded all of them never came back.

But what would be more terrible would be the reaction of one of his Royal Guard.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning (the city):

The banquet tables that were all set out were completely stacked away and the streets were cleared. The Queen-Consort and the Princess left when the banquet was called off, the rest of the Royal Guard leaving with them.

Cahal had to be honest with himself, he felt better now that he had the standard equipment on.

He stood at the edge of the gate to the city, Reinhelda on the other side. Her ceremonial gear was in the bag over her wing and her arquebus over the other.

"It's been good to see you once more, Cahal." She said.

"Same here, Reinhelda." The wolf said back.

"Next time, wolfie, I'll drink you under the table."

Cahal laughed heartily. "Not going to happen, birdie." He replied.

Reinhelda began to walk back to Whitcliff while Cahal went back inside the confines of the city walls, the gate closing behind him.

Due to his occupation, he went to his house to continue his rest. And despite what others would think, he owned a small house when compared to the others around his. He went inside and got to his bedroom, getting the armour off and placing it on the armour stand, the longsword and belt resting against it. He got a set of clothes that wouldn't suit a person of his rank, but that's just him.

He looked over to the corner where his armour stand is, on the other side of the small bedroom, looking at what was sitting behind it.

His old arquebus from the Program.

How long has it been since he last touched it? Probably long enough for it to gather a layer of dust so thick that you couldn't see the metal. He was lucky enough to be able to keep it, considering what happened during the Program.

He shook his head, walking out the back door of the house and taking a pail with him to the well out the back. He placed the pail handle onto the hook, latched it in and sent the pail down. When he heard it echo the splash, he went down a bit further, waited then began to pull it back up, having to work harder now that the pail is mostly full.

When he finally managed to get the pail up, he unlatched it and carried the pail in with his right paw. As soon as the door closed, he lowered the pail to the wooden floor but groaned and rested his left paw onto his right shoulder.

'I must've been stupid for that Raider attack two weeks ago. That, or the Raider that cut me just got lucky.' He thought, grimacing all the while.

He used his left arm and paw, his slightly weaker side, to carry the pail. He got it to the washroom, and poured a quarter of the contents into a basin. Taking two paw-fulls, he splashed the water into his face, wetting the fur. However, the water also began to sting the scar he gained across his head, the one he gained when that Paladin was in this city.

Even now, he wonders where the Paladin has gone.

He wouldn't mind being.....

'Snap out of it, Cahal.' He thought to himself. 'Working for the Duke and the people before yourself.'

His own small mantra he would recite when his mind would wander.

Cahal walked out of the washroom and looked out the window for a small time, seeing the people he protects still doing their everyday tasks, even though there was always the threat.

But then he remembered something else. That he was lucky enough to become what he is now, in spite of what he was.

____________________________________________________________________________________

That morning (Shogun's Palace):

Hanako and Adair have been eating together ever since the Prince has been admitted.

And it made cause for concern with the retainers there.

Right now, though, Amano Hanako is practicing with Mita Taka, with the Shogun's oldest retainer and good friend overlooking their training. Both were sparring each other with katanas, dulled down as to not harm either of them. Taka used hers in the manner of the Shogun's shinobi clan while still retaining her fervour that she earned her nickname over, while Hanako used hers in the same manner as her father uses his tsurugi.

Adair watched from the sidelines, bandages still wrapped around his chest, hidden under the shirt he now wore. To his benefit, his skin isn't clinging so tightly to his bones anymore.

The round was called to a close when Taka managed to sweep Hanako over and have the blade stop a centimetre from her throat. Of course, neither took it to heart as it was a friendly spar, and Taka helped Hanako to stand back up. The old retainer walked up to both, a happy glint in his eye.

He pulled Hanako to a side to give her some points to improve her skills with the sword, but still warned her to not rely on it too much. Taka placed the practice katana with the rest and replaced her katana onto her back, adjusting it so it wouldn't annoy her whenever her tail moved. The vixen spied the Prince of Kespian looking at Hanako, although awestruck and in a good way.

Taka began to run through the Kuji-In, silent to the outside world.

'Rin. Py?. T?. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen.' She recited in her mind. And when she completed "Zen," she restarted back at "Rin."

"Hai, shuku." Hanako said to the retainer when he finished giving her advice, as he has pretty much been an uncle to her.

It was there that Taka stopped practicing the Kuji-In and Adair stood up from the ground, although slowly due to his injuries, and they left the training room, Taka taking Hanako's own sheathed katana with her.

Just in case.

On their way back to the main dining area, Hanako asked Adair to tell her about Kespian, which also made Taka's ears perk up in anticipation. Her friend was always curious of the world, and having the Prince of Kespian tell her about the country that Uslijan has been at war with countless times in history must be priceless to her.

Adair chuckled, scratching the fur on the back of his neck. He told her about the Dukes of the different Dukedoms of Kespian, a bit of the history of Kespian and some of the knight Orders that the Prince has either seen or trained with for a very small time. When that subject came up, Hanako became even more curious.

"Why train with them? Aren't you above them?" She asked.

"I am, but I have to be a fighter to lead my people into battle if need be. And to do so, I need to know how to fight, and what better way to know how to than to train with some of the orders that make up Kespian's knights."

"Is there any way to prove yourself as a capable fighter?"

"There's a special Trial for those of royal blood. Seven matches against knights, all with different weapons, just like any other Trial that any future knight would go through, but what makes my Trial different is that there's an eighth match and, in that match, I have to lead three others against four opponents."

"And why's that?"

"To prove to my father and the people that I'm a capable leader as well." He answered.

Both women's ears perked up, although Hanako absentmindedly scratched the underside of her muzzle and blushed slightly. Taka would have to annoy her friend for her lack of subtlety for her feelings for the Prince. But it wasn't misplaced.

The Prince is a living incarnation of Kespian. Strong-willed and loyal to all and himself. If she didn't get feelings for him, only then would Taka be worried.

____________________________________________________________________________________

At Arleen's shack:

Arleen sighed when she got the quiver off of her lower back, the newt wishing that just for once nothing bad would happen. Just for once.

Not that she didn't mind helping people, but just not every day.

She prevented the murder of a merchant from the Pubizan Dukedom from a corrupt Legionnaire, expertly firing an arrow through the soldier's gladius wrist, saving the Dalmatian merchant from getting stabbed, and dragged the Legionnaire in front of Cranta's Duke and the General of the Crantan Legion, a Doberman, to force him to confess, which ended the Legionnaire stripped of his status as a soldier and placed under lock and key in the dungeons.

And in Cranta, status was better than currency.

Arleen removed the heavy dark leather armour from her body, sighing when the cool breeze hit her near-bare chest. She quickly got a spare rough-spun shirt from her bedroom and began to cook a simple broth over the fireplace.

That was when she heard the caw of a certain feral bird.

She looked back, seeing a messenger crow land onto the windowsill of her shack. The newt shook her head at the timing. She didn't want to move from the nice warmth of the fire, but the messenger crow just stood there on the windowsill, staring at her and forcing her to come to it.

As ingenuity would have it, the Forest Darkbows had a sling engineered for their messenger birds to not impede flight but also allow for larger messages to be sent.

And this crow was only used by Silus and herself for their own communication.

She took the lone message out of the sling and placed it onto the mantle of the fireplace. The crow just stood there, watching Arleen and waiting for the next message to send.

She finished cooking the broth and poured it into one of the few bowls she had. Not that she wanted more, as she was fine on her own. When she was done with her broth, she read the message that Silus said, almost not believing what was written.

That there would be a meeting with the King and the Shogun on the battlefield to retrieve the Prince from wherever. Also with a request for her to come to the front lines.

'But that would leave the wilds around Cranta unprotected and for misdeeds to run rampant around here.' She thought, until she read a bit further down.

Silus would send another Forest Darkbow down to her shack if she does accept the request, protecting the people from misdeeds and ambushes if necessary.

The bull always thought of everything. The Darkbows cannot ask for a better leader.

Nor, for her, a better childhood friend.

Taking the specialised parchment used for carrier birds, Arleen wrote her response down onto the parchment. When she was done, she rolled it up and placed it into the sling on the crow. She shooed the crow away, back to Silus.

She took another piece of parchment out and began to write down the supplies she'll need for the journey, as well as some new broadheads.

She'll be heading for the frontlines, all the while hoping that Silus isn't lying.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Translations:

Hai: Yes Shuku: Uncle

And those nine words that Taka recited is what shinobi would actually do.