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Avolon.

Island City of the north, surrounded by the Sea of the Raven, named for the ruling family -the Lo'Ravens. It was a city of foggy weather, of brilliant inventions and cultural diversity. And, most noteworthy of all, its grand market and economic strength, owed to possessing a large merchant fleet that brought gold and silver from foreign cities to bring wealth to the city.

Avolon was a city of Avians -of bird-like inhabitants, who mostly travelled by their natural power of flight instead of on foot. During the day, visitors to this city would see the skies above filled with its feathered populace, their mighty wings abroad to carry them over the rooftops to their destinations. Its landmarks, recognized for ornate architecture that stood out from the decorated structures of the cities' districts, included but were not limited to the great palace of High Eyrie or the prestigious University of Annabelle Lo'Raven.

Covering the entire southern half of the isle upon which it rested, Avolon housed tens of thousands of Avians who called this place home. The northern half of the isle was left untouched by civilization, except for the great Port of Avogadro at the northwest corner -the field where the cities' famous airships rested their 'wings' for lack of a better term. All of this was ringed by a great wall, built over the course of decades if not a century to surround the entire island and the city.

The wall had even been built into the channel between Avolon and its sister-island to the south, reaching down like the arms of a parent to also surround the island, sealing both from the outside world. One could only enter the city through its ocean gates on the east and west, and only those with permission would ever be allowed access, else suffer the bronze cannons that lined the walls.

To many, Avolon was a city that could be described as a work of art in and of itself, for its balance between civilization and nature for leaving its northern half untouched and the southern half filled to the brim with buildings, paved roads and wonders. But like any city-state of the world, it shared one weakness -one fatal flaw because of its confinement that presented significant risk to the city.

Fire.

It was the dead of night when the blaze had begun. All Hawkton had been illuminated by the light of the fire that had engulfed a store located on the corner of a central block, overlooking the canal, and once someone had sounded the alarm, the district flew into panic. With so many buildings close together, a single fire could quickly turn into a disaster that could level the entire section, or worse, if any embers were to stray over the canals to catch in a neighboring district to spread it even further.

The city's emergency response teams worked quickly. Carts carrying water and operated by hand-cranked pumps were wheeled onto the scene -Avians wearing protective gear pulled them to the minimum safe distance from the fire. Half of the teams operated the cranks, the others aimed the hoses, spraying the flames with cool water to attempt to extinguish it, and yet more teams dragged intake hoses to the canal to drop them into the water to supply more to the cart when its reserves were depleted.

While the fire brigade battled the blaze, numerous Avians in matching uniforms formed a perimeter to keep back the civilians who had come to bear witness to the fire burning out of control. Officers of the Avolonian Security Forces; the protectors of the city and first response to a crisis such as this, making sure the way was clear for other arriving carts, all while keeping the people back at a safe distance until the fire was put under control.

However, the chaos was not in the blaze itself, but who was trapped within. The owner of the store, who lived on the second floor above it, was still inside. They had called out to the fire prevention brigade below, screaming for help before they were forced back indoors by the rising flames. Outside they could see the water being poured onto the house, but the fires around them burned strong and would not be denied.

The crews were at a loss; the fire was so intense it would take them some time before they could suppress it enough to get inside and rescue the civilians. Even so, their priority was to control the spread of the fire, keep it confined to this single building and not allow it to spread, even if that meant sacrificing those inside. This was their standing order, however it caused inner turmoil with their want to rescue the civilians.

Some were openly arguing over this; one of the Avolonian Security officers was in verbal debate with the chief of the fire brigade, demanding that he rescue the civilians before the building grew weaker and they were buried in the rubble.

"I can't do it, officer!" The fire chief bellowed. "Our orders are to prioritize containment of the flames to stop it from spreading! Besides, even with our protective gear, we'd never survive in there; what good would it do them if _we_got killed as well?"

"There must be something you can do!" The officer, a blue-feathered hawk, pleaded.

"There isn't! I'm sorry, but unless we can suppress this blaze we can't help them!" The chief stated before he turned away to address his brigade. "I need two more hoses on that south side! Keep this blaze contained, men!"

The officer cursed as he stepped away to let the brigade work, angry at feeling so helpless with two lives at stake, but he had his own job to stay focused on, seeing the crowds were still growing larger as they came to witness the flame. "Get these people back; keep these roads clear! We need to get more carts in here now!"

"Captain Vinson!" Another officer called out the hawk, who was pointing at something up in the air above the city. "Look up there!"

The hawk followed where the officer was pointing, and through squinted eyes, he saw a winged form soaring over the houses and heading in their direction, gently gliding to a lower altitude and making a beeline straight towards the burning house. When the captain saw the bright red and gold colours of the winged form, he knew exactly who it was arriving on the scene, and so did the other officers watching.

"Is that the Corporal?"

"The hell is he doing here?"

As if to answer their question, the brightly-coloured avian, dressed in the same uniform attire as them, flew over their heads towards the burning house, leaning back and beating his wings briskly to slow his approach before tucking them in and, much to the surprise of the officers, went plunging straight through the upper floor window.

"What the hell is he doing?!"

"He's not supposed to be going in there!"

The hawk-Captain let out a long groan, rubbing his eyes with the finger and thumb of his talon. "Damn it, Volcan, not this again!" He bemoaned.

"Captain, was that...?" The nearby officer began to ask the hawk.

"Yes... that was him," replied the hawk-Captain, who stared up at the house for a moment before he looked over at the officer. "When he gets out, bring him to my office at the barracks; he is to be apprehended for protocol violation, and see to it the civilians are admitted to the nearest medical center, even if it is only a clinic. I then want a full report, including which one they were admitted to."

"What if he doesn't make it out, sir?"

"Trust me, he will," the hawk returned, matter-of-factly. "He's right in his element."

~~~~~

When Volcan had awoken in the middle of the night and spotted the blaze through his bedroom window, coming from Hawkton, he acted without a second thought, throwing off his bedcovers and dashing for his closet to retrieve his Security-issued body armour, quickly adorning the raiment and gauntlets, though didn't bother to change out of his night pants; time was of the essence, and he needed to get moving.

It may not have been his shift, but that didn't mean he couldn't be around to help.

As he opened his window to climb out, he gazed hard at the building that was ablaze, narrowing his eyes as his pupils contracted to the size of beads, and the scene seemed to move closer to him as he zeroed in on it. He could just barely see over the rooftops from his two-story home, but between a narrow opening of two houses that obstructed most of the view, he saw movement in the upper floor window of this house.

There was someone trapped inside the burning building!

That was all it took for the brightly covered avian to leap from his bedroom window, spreading his wings once he was clear of himself and vaulting from the roof of a neighbouring home as he took flight, carrying himself aloft with his large wings. Must hurry, he thought; lives were at stake, and only he could help them.

He flew high over the houses, getting a better look at his target and calculating his approach before falling into a dive to increase his speed, plunging towards the street and pulling up just shy of the rooftops to avoid catching his wings on any obstacles as the burning building grew closer. He had nothing to fear from the blaze, any more than a living being had to fear breathing the air, and carried on without hesitation.

The house seemed to rush towards him as he picked up speed. Leaning back, he beat his wings to slow his approach, before tucking them and his legs against his body as tightly as possible and leaning forward, crossing his arms in front of his face to let his gauntlets hit the glass of the upper floor window that was his entrance.

The glass shattered; he felt aches in his arms from the impact, and could feel a light bite from the shards in one of his wings, but nothing severe. He opened his limbs, and hit the floor almost hard enough to knock the wind out of himself had he not managed to catch himself on his hands. It was fortunate the floor he landed on was not weakened by the fire yet.

He stood up, and quickly searched his surroundings for the civilian he had seen before, but though the flames did not burn him, even he could not see _through_them. He raised his hands, and mentally reached out to the fires, commanding them to part as he did so with his hands. As if possessing a mine of their own, they obeyed; the flames thinned, and cleared a path for him, allowing him to finally spot his goal.

At the far corner of the room, he spotted not just one, but two figures, lying prone on the floor to escape the smoke that was accumulating against the ceiling, becoming thicker by the second. To add to their dilemma, they were trapped by a wall of fire, blocking them from reaching the stairs that were so near to them; mere steps from salvation, stopped only by the hungry fire.

As he had with the first fire wall, Volcan parted the flames that blocked him from reaching the civilians, fanning away as much of the smoke as he could with his wings as he neared. "Hey!" He called to get their attention; they looked up, revealing the faces of two owls -one a grown woman the other a child of nine years at most. In their large eyes, he could see his own reflection, and the terror on their faces, though he did not know how much of it was directed at him.

He knelt as he neared them, speaking a little softer to them. "I'm with Avolon Security," he explained. "I'm here to get you out!" He held out his talon to them. "Come on; we don't have much time!"

They started to move, but then the little one looked up, her eyes widening even more as a loud snap and groan filled the room. "Look out!" She screamed.

Volcan looked up, and saw it just in time; a beam had given way and was falling towards him. Bracing himself he put up his arms, letting out a grunt as the wooden length fell upon him. Sharp pain shot through his arm even as his gauntlets protected him from the splintering wood, the impact transferring through the steel and straight to his bones, which threatened to give way under the impact, but they held on. Strong as he was, his bones were still hollow, and very easy to break.

He threw the beam aside with a furious cry, letting it hit the floor behind him, and turned his attention back to the owls. "The building is getting weaker by the second; we must hurry!" He exclaimed, holding out his hands to them. "Please, trust me!"

Did they really have a choice? The two owls scrambled to their hands and feet, moving closer to Volcan and holding onto him as he wrapped his wings around them to protect them from the flames and help keep out some of the smoke as all three of them stood up, and began to move towards the staircase. "Careful now!" He urged them as he once more used his powers to move the flames away, so as not to burn their feet as they descended the steps to the ground floor. He heard more debris falling, but forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

Were he by himself, Volcan might have just run through a wall to clear the way, but with the two owls in tow he couldn't risk endangering them by weakening the building any further, and so took the long, safer way out.

They rounded a corner and found the front door just a little further away, but it was blocked; the collapse he had heard a few seconds earlier must have been the second floor giving way, and now several timbers blocked their escape. Volcan cursed angrily, and quickly looked around for another exit, but he couldn't see one -not even another window that he and the two females could fit through. He instead led them over to the wall where it was little clearer, told them to get down and wait there for a second.

With the two of them safely tucked into the corner, Volcan strode across the room to the door, and raised his hands over his head, grunting with effort as he brought his fists down on the timbers to break them, causing them to fall flat against the floor. Moving some aside with his foot, he called back to the owls. "It's clear! Let's go!" He practically ordered them, and they complied.

The owl mother picked up her daughter in her arms and strode for the door with her in tow. Volcan waited until she was through before he followed her out, feeling fresh air wash over him again as they exited the building into the street. He felt the vapours of the water hoses splashing on him, and hissed as he felt the water sizzling against his feathers and stung his flesh, and quickly got clear of the houses before more could fall on him.

The owl mother evidently saw someone in the crowd that she knew; she called out a name, though Volcan didn't catch it, and ran with her daughter in her arms to meet that someone, leaving him to watch her depart and be let through the perimeter to meet whatever friend she had spotted. When she was out of sight, Volcan looked back at the burning building he had just rescued them from, seeing how much of the building was burnt as the fire began to give way under the relentless hosing of the fire brigade. Had he not gotten them out when he had, it might've been too late to save them, and he felt himself awash with pride as that realization set in.

Though that quickly faded when he heard a voice behind him. "Corporal MacAingeal?"

He turned, and saw two fellow Avolonian Security Officers standing there, watching him. He saw one of them carrying a pair of shackles, and suddenly he knew what they were there for, letting out a disheartened sigh. "Let me guess... protocol violation?"

"Captain's orders as well, sir."

"Alright," Volcan stated, holding out his arms for the shackles. "Go ahead; I'm not going to resist."

The clapped the irons around his wrists, locking them together and moving to his sides where they held him by the shoulders to begin leading him away. As they walked, they passed a crowd of people, and they heard whispers from the Avians cluttered among them.

"Did he save them?"

"Looks like it."

"Why are they taking him away then?"

"Maybe he's the one who started the fire."

That one made Volcan's heart sting, but it only got worse from there.

"Yeah, I wager you're right."

"He is one of the phoenixes from the peninsula after all."

"Can't trust those barbarians you know."

"Would he really start the fire though? He's wearing one of our Security's uniforms."

"Poppycock; those savages would burn our whole city to the ground if they got the chance."

"He probably gave in to his base need to burn things."

Volcan forced himself not to listen any further; his knuckles cracked as his fists clenched, the rising anger in his chest wanting to explode out his beak, to curse them for making such accusations against him after what he had just done. But he restrained himself, and continued letting the two officers lead him on to the barracks...

~~~~~

Gregory Vinson, the Captain of the Avolon Security Forces, read quietly the report that had been delivered to him mere moments before Volcan was brought in after spending four hours in a detention cell in the barracks. The young phoenix felt his stomach churning as he saw the look on the blue-feathered, middle-aged hawk's face and in the way he paced about the office, practically radiating frustration like an aura.

Volcan nearly jumped out of his seat as Gregory slammed the paper down on the desk in front of him. "Do you know the_level_ of trouble you are in right now, Volcan?"

"Yes, sir," replied the phoenix.

"Responding to an emergency while off-duty is forgivable as it is a sign of commitment to our work," Gregory began. "The rest however, is not." He tapped the paper with his finger. "Reckless endangerment of self, entering a burning building without authorization, acting without authority and acting without jurisdiction, and this is all without even mentioning the claims of you causing further damage and risk causing collapse of an already structurally unsound building."

"Causing further damage?" Volcan echoed. "I didn't do anything to compromise the structure further; I was in there to save the inhabitants, not bury them and me under the rubble."

"I'm simply stating what was reported. Fortunately for you I was there to witness some of the incident and I saw you enter through a window. Just the same," he leaned forward on the desk, and looked Volcan squarely in the eyes, "this is grounds for termination from the Avolon Security Forces, not to mention the other times you've done things like this! Do you know how much trouble this causes for us when there's an immigrant citizen violating protocol?"

"I was trying to save lives, Captain," Volcan pleaded. "You and I both know the fire brigade wasn't getting into that building; a mother and her child would have died if I didn't do something!"

"You can't prevent every crime and catastrophe that hits the city, Volcan," Gregory returned, running a hand down his face. "There is a system to follow, and we all must adhere to it, even a captain like me."

"The system isn't focused on saving lives!" Volcan retorted, standing up abruptly as he lost his temper. "Fire brigade's first orders are only to stop the fire from spreading and then worry about civilian casualties! By then it's almost always too late to save anyone!"

"You think I'm not aware of that?" Gregory asked, his voice turning from one of scolding to one of stern sympathy. "Have you forgotten I am the father of two children as well? Were it me in that situation, I sure as hell would not be the one berating you for what you did."

Volcan looked across the desk at Gregory, watching as all the aggravation he was directing at the young phoenix seemed to melt away as the hawk sat down in his chair. Volcan followed suite, expecting the lecture to continue, but Vinson remained silent, once more rubbing his eyes, and then addressing Volcan again. "I have no choice but to do this," he stated. "Leave your service blade and uniform in the armory, and return home for the day." Volcan started to frown, until Gregory continued. "Until I can smooth over the feathers your actions will have ruffled, you are on suspension."

Volcan looked up at Gregory with some surprise. "Then... you're not firing me?"

"Are you disappointed?" The hawk asked, dangerously.

Volcan stiffened. "No sir, but I..."

"Stand up," Gregory commanded, prompting Volcan to rise to his feet again, where Gregory walked alongside him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he spoke. "I'm not one of those by-the-book officers, Volcan; you know that," he stated. "Were it up to me, I would drop all charges against you for your actions today; you saved the lives of two Avians, when they were most certainly doomed to die in that fire without your intervention.

"However, you must understand," Gregory carried on. "Your_situation in Avolon is _highly_precarious. Your kind -the MacAingeal, not your race- are _not well liked here -I don't even need to tell you this. But it is because of the propaganda spread about them over the years, after the many wars fought between Avolon and the MacAingeal Clan. Only over the last twenty years was your family allowed here; your mother brought you here, raised you here, for eighteen years.

"Your presence here represents just how far the peace brokered by Lord MacAingeal and the last King of Avolon fifty years ago has come, but all of that can be undone if you give the nobility something to use -something to fuel their pyre of lies and contempt, then you, your mother and your elder brother will be made to leave, and everything your family has worked for, inside and outside of this city, will be gone." He looked Volcan squarely in the eyes. "Tell me, is that what you want?"

Volcan hung his head sadly, feeling Greg's words gnawing at his heartstrings as he thought about his family, knowing that

"No, Captain," Volcan replied, sighing unhappily. "That's not what I want..."

"Good, because I don't want it either," Gregory returned. "You're a fine officer, Volcan; rough around the edges, but not without potential. Carry out your suspension, and return this Sorday; after you pick up your equipment, report directly to me at the North Harbour at noon -do not be late."

"What is at the harbour?" Volcan asked.

"I will explain when you arrive," Gregory returned. "For now, you are dismissed. Go home, and I will see you this weekend."

Volcan nodded to Gregory, followed by a cross-chest salute, and turned to leave the office, pausing at the door briefly in case Gregory had any more to say, but when the hawk remained silent, the phoenix departed, closing the door behind him, and heading for the armory to leave his service gear...

'My name is Volcan, of the MacAingeal clan.

_ I am a member of the Avolon Security Forces - keepers of law and order, protectors of the city of Avolon, one of the great city-states that dot the world, isolated from one another, hidden in their own regions, and over the centuries, growing into the massive, metropolitan kingdoms that we of this world dwell within today. Avolon is one of few -if not the only- island cities, and it is inhabited by Avians of assorted variety. We live under a monarchy, serving the royal Lo'Raven family, who have held the crown of Avolon for nine centuries -almost a millenia._

_ My role in this city, officially is to protect it... but unofficially I am to endure the disgust my very existence earns me._

_ You see, for thousands of years, my family -the MacAingeal Clan, has ruled over a single peninsula that is part of the same landmass as Avolon. In fact, it is the only part of the isle that Avolon doesn't rule; this entire isle belongs to them except for that one -honestly pitiful stretch of land, which in ages past they have tried to conquer several times, under some pretense that it was theirs by right._

My ancestors have repelled them, time and again; we have fought to keep our land and eventually the Avolonians allowed peace -though I don't know what the conditions were, it has been ongoing for the last fifty years, with neither side raising a blade to the other. However, the bitter taste of twelve wars doesn't simply disappear even after five decades of peace. I was born in Avolon, in the Queen's Medical Center on Elizabeth's Ridge; the first MacAingeal to be born and raised in the city. As far back as I can remember, many have been at best, wary of me, and at worst, hateful, simply for my heritage. It isn't because I'm a Phoenix; my family is not the only flock of phoenixes in Avolon. There is also the Mondiale Family, who I've yet to actually meet, but I've heard that they are Phoenixes as well. I also have a friend who is a Wind Phoenix, and his father, who...

Ah ha, I'm getting sidetracked. My apologies.

As I was saying, it's been a part of my life. The whispers, the fear, the berating looks of passing nobles in the streets -gods how I wish I could strike their beaks from their faces, but that would only confirm everything they say about me. So, I have stayed my hand, and just not shown how much it gets to me; my mother did not raise a barbarian, and I won't give these blue-blooded nobles see otherwise.

Despite everything, though, I was honoured when my application to the Avolon Military Academy was accepted, and even though I still face some discrimination, I still feel some pride in what I do. I have served since I was sixteen, I ascended to Corporal rank as of this year, and I have a record of fifty-one arrests, including many counts of apprehending armed suspects after besting them in a street battle. Unfortunately, I also have three citations, each for the same thing; acting outside of my authority; two fires, and apprehending a suspect on Grand Harvest Island -which, was outside of the jurisdiction of my post at the time.

Yes; it would seem there are a lot of rules for keepers of the law to follow. Isn't that strange? Though, I suppose that the ones who are in a position for keeping order must maintain a certain level of order themselves, otherwise there would be consequences. While I look forward to the day I can prove myself, I will keep doing what I am doing; I was born and raised in Avolon, and I will fight for her like any good citizen would.

...Once I'm off suspension, of course.

_ _

Tap, tap, tap...

"Volcan? Are you awake, son?"

The young phoenix stirred to the sound of knocking and his mother's voice, rousing him from his sleep. His sky-blue eyes opened slowly, looking up to the blank, plank wood ceiling above, little rays of sunlight slipping in between the folds of the curtain hanging over his window to his left. He shifted on his mattress, turning his head to look over at the door as he heard his mother calling his name.

"Yes, mother; I'm awake," Volcan called. 'Now_anyway,' he added in thought._

The door opened, and in stepped another phoenix. She was shorter than Volcan in height, but matched him in colour -bright red with patches of yellow running from her neck and into her shirt, along with a split, antennae-like crown that arched over her head. She was dressed in a white shirt, gray slacks and wearing a brown apron. She looked at Volcan from across the room with some surprise visible on her face.

Her name was Degra MacAingeal. Outwardly, she looked no older than Volcan himself, but she had lived over six of his lifetimes, growing up on the peninsula until moving into Avolon as a liaison between the clan and the royal family, taking on the role of Ambassador, working at the MacAingeal Embassy established in the Eagle Heights district, at the very foot of Elizabeth's Ridge.

Her face was one of curiosity and concern as she addressed her son. "My son, shouldn't you be at your post by now?"

"I'm..." Volcan began, turning his head to look at the clock on his end table, blinking his blurry eyes to clear his vision until he could read the hands. When he saw it was past eight o'clock, he started to get up, but the fog in his mind was beginning to lift and he began to recollect the events earlier that morning. "Oh, right," he moaned, falling back upon his pillow and letting out a groan. "I'm... on suspension."

His mother's expression shifted a look of shock, her twin feathery crowns twitching in response to her shifting mood. "On suspension?" She echoed in a surprised tone. "Whatever for?"

"There was a fire last night, here in Hawkton" Volcan explained. "at that little shop by the canal on the next block; the corner store. Somehow it caught fire; I woke up to see the blaze, and I responded."

Degra frowned. "Volcan... you know you're not supposed to respond to emergencies that are not on your shift."

"I could not help it," returned Volcan, sitting up from his mattress and swinging his legs over the side, seeing no reason to stay in bed any longer. "If I had not done something a mother and her child would've died in that blaze. Authority or not, I had to do something." He hung his head sadly. "Unfortunately, Gregory was forced to still punish me, and so he put me on suspension."

"For how long?"

"Until Sorday, so, only for four nights," Volcan replied.

Degra sighed unhappily, staring at the floor for a moment before turning to her son again. "Well, what is done is done," she said. "I'm just glad he did not terminate your employment."

"As am I," Volcan returned, grimly. It was unlikely he would ever find other work in Avolon; even now, he only had his position on the security forces thanks to his mother asking the king on his behalf, which granted him admission to the academy where he was trained.

"Well, I will prepare you some breakfast," Degra offered. "Come downstairs once you are dressed."

Volcan nodded to his mother, watching as she left. When the door was closed, he lifted his covers off, swinging his legs over the side and placed his feet upon the floor, folding his arms across his legs and leaning on his knees for support as he slipped into thought.

The young phoenix spent several moments contemplating recent events, before with a curse under his breath, he stood up, grabbing the pair of slacks laying haphazardly over his dresser and pulling them on, before walking over to his closet and picking out a clean shirt for the day. He turned the shirt's back towards him; a shirt designed specifically for avians by including an opening for the wings Unfastening the buttons on the lower, the phoenix lifted the shirt and pulled it over his head, slipping his arms through the sleeves and his head through the hole, only to fumble to refasten the buttons behind him. The problem was, they were small; easily undone when held in hand, but when the shirt was worn, they were difficult to reach,

'Could they not have made these bigger?' He thought, just like every time he encountered this problem.

Finally, having managed to close the back of his shirt, Volcan reached out to his left, fingers grasping for something on his wall that was not there. He turned his head to look at his hand, finding it touching the wall below the hooks that he usually hung his service blade from. "Habit," he muttered, and then exited his room to go downstairs.

No sooner did he place his foot on the ground floor and turn to walk into the kitchen, he heard a deep, strong voice behind him, stopping him in his tracks. "Extra day off, little brother?"

Volcan turned to look over his shoulder at the speaker, seeing his elder sibling, Lighris, standing with his shoulder to the wall by the front door, arms crossed over his chest. Lighris was a deep blue feathered avian with bright yellow eyes -so bright they could be seen in the dark.

Although Lighris was older than Volcan by a few years, he was shorter a more muscular than Volcan despite the supernatural strength possessed by the younger phoenix. A trait that Lighris did not share even though they were related by blood; Lighris was a whole separate species of Phoenix entirely, born to wield the element of lightning instead of fire.

"Morning, brother," returned Volcan. "And, to answer your question, not quite..."

"It was a rhetorical question," Lighris cut him off. "I know why you're not on duty."

Volcan eyed him questioningly. "From who? Did mom tell you?"

Lighris shook his head. "The whole district is abuzz with it. I met one of your fellows and they let it slip that you'd been put on suspension."

Volcan scowled. "They're not supposed to tell people that; who was it?"

"He didn't say. But would he let out who he is if it's a protocol violation?" He shrugged. "And when has anyone needed an excuse to spread filth about us?"

"Us?" Volcan echoed, turning fully to his brother now. "What's this 'us' you speak of? The filth they spread is directed at the MacAingeal clan, not you."

"I am a MacAingeal," Lighris reminded.

"By blood, yes, but you don't look like one," retorted Volcan, pointing at himself. "You don't have these red and gold feathers drawing glares to you all day long. Count yourself fortunate."

With that, Volcan turned away from his brother, storming his way into the kitchen where he found himself a place at the table and sat down, huffing angrily.

Degra, having heard the exchange between her two sons, watched as Lighris ascended the stairs before turning to her youngest. "Son..." she began, drawing his gaze to her, and letting him see the hurt look in her eyes. "Are you unhappy with being part of the MacAingeal clan?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Volcan returned hastily, slowing his words as he continued. "I'm sorry, mom... I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm ungrateful for the life you gave me. But this..." He gestured towards the nearby window to the city beyond. "All of this, makes me unhappy. A city of hundreds of thousands of Avians, including phoenixes, and yet I feel as though the number of people who don't hate us is small enough to count on a single hand. Even when you do something selfless or save lives, they still talk such rot about you. What did we do to deserve this?"

Degra let out an unhappy sigh as she let Volcan's words sink in, understanding the reason behind his frustration. She walked over to her youngest son, standing behind him and gently embracing him. "It is nothing we did, my son," she replied. "It's simply because of who we are, and the name we carry."

"Why did you want to live here?" Volcan asked her, turning his head and rolling his eyes back to look at her. "Why did you want to leave the Peninsula?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, Volcan," she began. "It was not my idea, nor was I the one who was originally meant to come here." She pulled away from him, walking around the table and taking a seat across from him. "I told you once before that we are directly descended from the first clan patriarch -from Aingeal, the namesake of the clan?"

"Yes," returned Volcan.

"Well, to create a better relationship with the Avolonians, the current patriarch wanted someone from the clan leader's lineage to live among them, in effort to bridge the gap between our two peoples by letting someone grow up as a part of Avolon. The MacAingeal clan is home to great warriors, but even we tired of fighting with the Avolonians over the centuries, and though we had managed thirty years of peace, Lord Boswell knew that it was only a matter of time before hostilities resumed, as they always did. And so, he devised a plan, in hopes to secure a lasting peace.

"At first," she continued, "The plan was to send one of his own sons or daughters to live among them. But there were disagreements about this from both sides; on the MacAingeal side, many of his children despise the Avolonians and were disgusted by the idea of living among them. The Avolonian nobles did not trust Lord Boswell either, as he had many times laid parts of the city to waste by his own hand in the many wars fought between us; they feared one of his children may wish to follow in his footsteps. Someone else needed to be chosen for the task.

"With neither side supporting the idea of Boswell's children living in Avolon, my father volunteered, since he was only Lord Boswell's nephew and not his son. But when word of this reached my ears, I asked my father to let me be the one to go instead. I was still a part of the patriarch's bloodline, and was about to start a family of my own. It was the perfect opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?" Volcan asked. "To be looked at with suspicion for the rest of our semi-mortal lives?"

She smiled weakly at her son. "To open yours and Lighris' eyes to a bigger world," she replied.

Volcan blinked in confusion. "I don't understand..."

"The MacAingeal Peninsula is beautiful, but it is isolated and rather small once you get used to it," replied Degra. "Avolon is a hub of trade and commerce with other nations, presenting many opportunities to meet people from other kingdoms, not to mention how many different races of Avians live here. I felt it was the best way to show you that there is more to the world than this island. Something the rest of the clan never understood.

"As far as the clan and Avolon both know, my coming here was of a political nature -to live among Avolonians and bridge the gap between them and us as the ambassador, but my own intentions were purely born of my desires as a mother. That is why I chose to live here in Hawkton and not at the embassy. Lighris always hated that when I told him -that I'd choose a 'cramped hovel' instead of a mansion, but I worried that taking the offer of living in the embassy would make us look privileged, living freely and under the protection of the King's Guard; I feared that would only make the resentment worse. So, I hypothesized that by living in Hawkton and raising a family among the citizenry, that I could accomplish both; raise a family, and bridge the gaps between the two sides."

"And has it?" Volcan asked, matter-of-factly.

Once more, that sour expression returned to her face. "I used to think it had," she began. "But after what you have told me -about what was said when you were taken away by Security, I am not certain anymore." She sighed. "I thought I was making progress when the king agreed to let you enlist with the Avolon Security Forces, despite the protests of several nobles, but winning the trust of the people is not so easy."

Volcan grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "No," he said in a baritone voice. "It isn't." He then looked up at his mother. "Answer me this; did you appeal to the king hoping that my joining the Security Forces would further your intent to bridge the gap between Avolon and the MacAingeal?"

"I confess, it was one of the reasons," she admitted honestly. "What better way to earn the trust of the Avolonians than by serving among their protectors?" She returned to an adjacent chair and sat next to Volcan, continuing her explanation. "But that was not my only reason for doing it. I had hoped that by working with the Avolonian Security Forces, you would make friends, and discover the pleasure of comradery."

An image of Captain Vinson flashed through Volcan's mind at his mother's words, along with a scout recruit he had grown close to during training at the academy. He could not help but smile. "Well... I suppose that much happened."

"I knew from the moment you emerged from your egg you would be a warrior, as many MacAingeal are," she said. "And that is why I felt the Avolon Security Forces was the place for you." She reached across the table, placing her hand over Volcan's. "Just keep holding on, my son. Sooner or later, the chance will arise for you to win the hearts of the Avolonians. Have faith, and don't give up no matter how grim it looks."

Volcan's gaze fell he heard his mother's plea, unable to find any further words to express what he felt without breaking her heart. He didn't know if he believed what she did, but his mother had always been the most significant figure in his life; he wanted her to be happy and to be proud of him, and to make certain that all the effort she had put in for both him and the clan -as all her decisions were meant to benefit both, were not in vain.

He looked up at her again, giving a weak nod. "I'll try," he promised.

She smiled at him, gently patting his hand before she stood up and returned to the stove to resume making breakfast for her son.

As Volcan sat waiting silently at the kitchen table, there was a knock at the door. Humming curiously, he stood up from the table, announcing he would get it as he rounded the corner into the foyer and crossed it to reach the front door. He couldn't see who was outside because the colourful drape hanging over the window, allowing only a shadow to be visible to those inside.

He slid the bolt out from its socket to unlock the door before opening it, and was greeted by an excited, light brown avian that sprang up to eye level with the Phoenix and crowed in his face. "Morning, 'guv!"

Volcan was at first taken aback by the bouncing avian before him until he recognized who it was.

Pavan Stevenson. Volcan had known Pavan for over fifteen years, having been introduced to each other by their respective parents, and their meeting blossomed into a strong-albeit sometimes manic friendship -manic because of Pavan's hyperactive nature, fast-paced speech patterns and overall being a kook.

Like Volcan, Pavan was also recruited by the Avolon Security Forces -though he was still in training, being two years younger than Volcan and having only just come into the age of enlistment just after Volcan had graduated to the town guard. Pavan, however, was in line to join the Reconnaissance -or Scout- Brigade. Their duty was, as the nickname implied, to run frequent patrols around Avolon and her surrounding islets for suspicious activity.

"Good morning, Pavan," returned Volcan. "Not at training today?"

Pavan shook his head briskly, shifting his weight from one foot to another even as he stood on the porch talking to the Phoenix -a habit that once would have annoyed Volcan but he had grown accustomed to it in the years he had known Pavan. "No sirree! Day of rest today," returned Pavan. "Heard you have today off too; sorry to hear about the suspension."

Volcan groaned. "Does everyone in the city know about that?"

Pavan shrugged. "No idea, but why waste it?" He asked, and before Volcan could even answer, the younger avian darted immediately to another topic. "Hey! They're unveiling that new airship today!"

"The one purposed for military usage?" Volcan asked.

"Yeah, that one; you've heard about it?" Pavan asked.

"Hard not to; its posters are all over town," the red phoenix replied.

"Ah, guess I never noticed," Pavan replied; his answer caused Volcan to gawk, but before he could make a reply, Pavan answered him, as if knowing what Volcan was going to say and answering him beforehand. "Always on the go, you know. But we should go see it!"

Volcan, despite how intrigued he was to see the newest addition to the military, was nonetheless hesitant; an unveiling like this would surely attract a large crowd of spectators -many of whom would not be pleased to see him there. After last night, here didn't have the heart to put up with more whispering behind his back or more glares from countless pairs of eyes.

"I do not think I should," stated Volcan.

"Yes, you should," Degra spoke up from behind the young phoenix, prompting Volcan to turn around quite briskly as she had startled him. "It's a sunny day; the sun is shining bright. And really, don't tell me you aren't as fascinated as Pavan is to see what new toys the military is being given."

"But mother..." Volcan began.

"Also," she began. "I have heard that crown prince Avogadro himself will be handling the presentation. I am certain no one will want to misbehave while the prince is watching them, wouldn't you agree?" She asked her son plainly, but could still see the reluctant look on his face. "It is not like you have anything else to do today, Volcan, and I know you want to see that unveiling as much as Pavan does."

'Damn it,' Volcan cursed in his mind, always caught off guard by how easily his mother could read him as though his thoughts were as visible to her as his corporeal self. "Well, now I know you won't take no for an answer," he stated. "Fine; I will go to the presentation."

"Good," she returned, smiling at her son. "Now, come eat your breakfast, and then you can be on your way." She turned to Pavan as Volcan walked back to the kitchen. "Have you eaten yet, Pavan?"

"Not yet," he replied.

"You're welcome to join us then," she offered and beckoned him inside. "Come; there's plenty for all."

"Fantastic! I can never miss out on your cooking, Degra," Pavan chimed as he entered the house, following Volcan to the kitchen as Degra shut the door behind him. "Or do you prefer 'Madame ambassador'?"

Degra laughed in response. "You of _all_people know Pavan, you can refer to me by name."

~~~~~

After a hearty meal to start the day, Volcan and Pavan were on their way out, saying goodbye to Degra as they began their walk through Hawkton. With talons clicking on the cobblestones of the street as they walked, passing between the row of the tightly-packed brownstone houses lining either side of the street, they joined the other residents who were on their way to go about their daily duties, proceeding row by row in an orderly fashion past the lengthy line of matching houses on the right and left.

At the end of the street, after clearing the houses, they entered the central square of the district, where the street reached a bridge, crossing over the canal to an open square with a miniature clock tower overlooking the square. At times, the plaza housed the stalls of a few merchants selling their wares to passersby. This was one such time; though there were only a handful of stalls; fishermen, looking to sell their daily catch, farmers from just outside the district selling a few extra crops, and a baker selling fresh loaves of bread.

They looked up as they heard the chiming of the district's clock tower, seeing the hands indicating the ninth hour of the morning, with nine rings of the bell to follow and indicate the time for those who could not see the four faces of the clock.

Pavan cringed as he waited for the bells to cease ringing before proceeding to comment, "I hate that clock."

"Why?" Volcan asked.

"Wakes me up every time it chimes at night," he replied.

"Doesn't wake me; I thought the reason these towers use such small bells is to reduce the noise?" Volcan asked.

"I am a very light sleeper," replied Pavan.

Volcan rolled his eyes. "I would blame that on your hyperactive disposition." Not that it was any fault of Pavan's, truly. Like Volcan, Pavan was a Phoenix, but one of a separate element -wind, specifically. Many sapient elementals were often born with personalities that complimented their respective element. In Pavan's case, his need to stay constantly in motion was a testament to the wind element he was born of; the wind stopped for nothing and no one, and neither did he.

As they crossed the square making their way out of Hawkton, they took a northerly bridge to the next district. After crossing the canal, Volcan and Pavan found themselves crossing the canal into Eagle Heights, where they emerged from the confined, symmetrical layout of Hawkton's meager townhouses to marble-clad street, lined with beautiful houses, flaunting the wealth of their inhabitants.

Avolon was divided into eight major districts, with three of them housing the upper-class citizenry of Avolon, Eagle Heights being the first, known for its marble-paved street upon which the two Avians walked, which was lined with the homes of the wealthy. Unlike the homes of the four medium-wealth districts -Hawkton, Central Avolon, Little Sparrow and Rook & Raven, the homes lining the white marble street were each designed to fit the families who lived in them, ranging from small to large, able to hold families of all sizes. The houses here were mostly only one or two stories tall, but there were others reaching as high as three or even four floors.

Eagle Heights sat at the very foot of Elizabeth's Ridge, which was the second of the high wealth districts and home to the nobility and of course, the royal palace of High Eyrie. The hill was named for one of the city's most famous rulers, Queen Elizabeth Lo'Raven, who was the first female monarch to hold absolute power in the royal court, and her actions while in power had led to the hill being named after her, in recognition of her feats, and to this very day, the palace in which she had lived rested atop the hill, overlooking the regal mansions surrounding it, where the nobility lived in the shadow of the royal family's home.

A few of the higher wealth residents of the district were in their yards as Volcan and Pavan followed the street. Volcan caught more than one looking his way, but they would always turn away to avoid his gaze even if they knew he had already seen them. He never liked coming to this district; traffic was less than the lower-class areas of the city, making him feel like he stood out more. He always felt eyes on him, even when nobody seemed to be looking his way; it made him uncomfortable, but he hid his discomfort, and merely kept walking.

As Volcan and Pavan followed the road to the north-west. As they crossed another bridge leading over yet another of the canals. Passing through the gates into the next block, they dodged around four ornately-armoured Avians making their way onto the bridge. These Avians were not outfitted like the Avolon Security Forces; in addition to the heavy grade balistine -armour-grade silken vests, they also wore gold plated helmets with visors over their eyes, made to form for the wearers so as not to restrict their eyesight, and red tabards embroidered with the standard of the Avolonian royal family; black wings beneath a golden crown.

The two at the front carried tall, gold-plated shields in their left hands and long spears in their right hands, and wore basket-hilted sabers on their waists. The two at the back wore the same armour but instead of spears or shields, carried Avolonian carbine rifles, fixed with polished bronze bayonets at the mouths of the weapon.

These were not guards of the Avolon Security Forces; they were members of the King's Guard -the elite trained warriors that answered only to the king and the aristocracy. Funded directly by the crown and the nobility, they were afforded the finest weapons and armour available in Avolon, including having access to firearms - a luxury often coveted by the Avolon Security Forces, who were still restricted to the much older crossbow.

The two young phoenixes watched as the guards passed them by, with Pavan shuddering with excitement. "The King's Guard; gods what I wouldn't give to have been selected to join them," Pavan said excitedly.

"You barely passed the tests for the Scout Brigade," Volcan pointed out. "Even I didn't reach their requirements and I was considered a promising student." 'Not that the nobles would ever have allowed me to join their ranks even if I had.' He thought darkly.

"Still, look at all that amazing equipment!" Pavan exclaimed. "Why is it that we don't get to use those carbines anyway?"

"Because only the nobility can afford to buy them," replied Volcan. "And since the King's Guard are funded by the nobility and the crown, they have the means to acquire the best weapons in the city, including carbines. The city treasury funds the Avolon Security forces -tax money from the people, visitors and merchants, and once the nobles have all taken their shares of the money, the treasury could never supply the whole force with rifles."

"How much gold could one rifle cost?" Pavan asked.

"As much as eight crossbows," Volcan replied non-hesitantly. "Which is, approximately, a hundred crowns or, two hundred gold pieces."

Pavan's beak fell open. "You're pissing me; that much?!"

"I do not exaggerate, my friend," replied Volcan. "Carbines are worth much more than any weapon we carry. So, for the city to supply all of us, they must settle for the cheaper weapon, which is the crossbow."

"What a load of gong," Pavan commented, following Volcan as they resumed their walk up the street.

"If you think about it, choosing between the two weapons is largely a matter of taste," stated Volcan.

"How? Doesn't a rifle cause far more damage?" Pavan asked.

"Yes, it does," replied Volcan. "But a composite crossbow reloads faster than a rifle; after a rifle fires, the chambered casing must be ejected before the shooter can insert the next bullet into the chamber, which can be hindered by weather conditions or a lack of maintenance. A crossbow does not jam or need the previous shot ejected; you pull back the string with the bolt, lay it flat, and fire. Reliability and firing speed, versus firepower and ease of use."

"Doesn't a crossbow need that cranking tool to reload them?" Pavan asked, making a rolling motion with his hands to emphasize his meaning

"A windlass, and no; only certain variants required that device," Volcan pointed out. "City guards don't use those; you'll only find them in the hands of the guards on the walls. Despite their loading time, they are superbly accurate."

"Oh."

With their conversation concluded, they left Eagle Heights, passing through the northern gates of the main city, leaving behind the splendor of civilization, to the rural countryside of the isle. To the immediate right, there was the industrial district, covered with large factories and assembly plants. Despite moving on to the age of industry, the Avolonians were protective of the island's natural beauty, and so confined the industrial district to one area, safely outside the city and positioned so that the wind wouldn't blow the factory fumes over the town.

They began climbing a hill, leading to a high rise over which they could see the rest of the island; though the city itself was grand, most of the island's north consisted of untouched natural beauty, covered in forests, several great lakes named after kings and queens of the Lo'Raven family, and the lone towering escarpment Mt. Avian, reaching high into the sky, surrounded by a pine forest that spanned as far as their avionic eyes could see.

'I should come out here more often,' Volcan thought, enjoying the view until Pavan piped up once again.

_ _ "Want to race to the Port?" Pavan asked, bounding forward and jogging in the middle of the road while awaiting the fire phoenixes' answer.

"Me, race you?" Volcan asked, chuckling as if the wind phoenix had made a jest. "There's not an avian in the city who could keep up with you, least of all me."

"You can fly faster than most other fliers in this city too," Pavan pointed out.

"Not that much faster; a falcon can still outfly me, and you_can easily outfly _them."

"Come on, man! This walking is making me bonkers; I want to get there now!" Pavan urged.

"Then go on ahead; I'll catch up," retuned Volcan.

Pavan groaned. "But you know I detest waiting around."

"Go on ahead or walk with me; make up your mind, Pavan," urged Volcan, rolling his eyes at his friend.

Eventually the matter was settled that they would remain together, and so took flight to expedite their journey to the port now that they were clear of the city buildings. In the air, they could see across the many mile distance of the isle, making out just a faint glimpse of the port where they were heading. From afar, it was unmistakable; an area paved over with gravel at the end of a dirt road, standing out against the green reaches of the isle's north and dotted with many large structures built to house the growing air fleet of the Avolonians.

They returned to the ground as they entered the perimeter of the airfield, already seeing crowds gathering at one of the hangars. "That must be where the presentation is," Volcan suggested.

"I've never actually seen Prince Avogadro," Pavan remarked as they started walking to the hangar. "What does he look like?"

"What makes you think I know?" Volcan asked. "I've never been to the Palace."

"But your mom is the Ambassador; shouldn't she have met him?" replied Pavan.

"She's met the King and Queen, but she's never talked about the Prince at length," replied Volcan. "He's probably been present for a meeting or two, but that'd be about the most she'd know of him."

"Must be easy for him, up in that cushy palace his whole life. Bet he gets a fresh pot roast in the winter while the rest of us are stuck with preserved food," Pavan went on.

"Or all the wool blankets he could need to keep warm in the winter," added Volcan.

"Like that's a problem for you? You're a living fireplace."

"I am, but I still feel the winter. Just differently; you get cold, I get sick. Snow chills your skin, it burns mine," the phoenix shuddered. "Not looking forward to the next snowfall."

"Fair... point," returned Pavan, a sympathetic tone in his voice.

Volcan let out a sigh, and then turned his attention forward again. They were almost to the hangar where the crowd was gathered, and worked their way around until they found an open spot with a clear view of the presentation beyond.

Outside the hangar, a stage had been set, with a podium at the center. Behind the stage, he saw it; the airship that was to be unveiled. Currently the gas bag was filled only partway, so that the ship could sit on the ground without floating away, but the bag itself would not be lying draped around the crews working on it, nor bend the visible metal plates built around the bag above the cabin.

On the stage, Volcan saw only three Avians, two of whom were members of the royal guard, but the third was someone he didn't recognize -though he was certain he knew who they were. A black-feathered raven stood at the podium preparing to give a speech. He wore a long, decorative coat, with a folded collar, revealing a dark blue interior with yellow lining, and a black undershirt. He wore dark blue pants, also a high-end style, and an elegant rapier hung from his belt.

The raven had a smooth, angular face behind a gray beak. His eyes were yellow at the iris, but the scilera were as black as the pupils, making the yellow of his eyes stand out even more from afar. His black-feathered crest was tipped with dark red. His black feathers changed hue halfway down his face, to a dark gray, and his brow had red streaks just above his eyes, which helped his eyes stand out more clearly from his feathers. On the inside of his wings, red streaks could be seen stretching across his feathers from end to end, forming two wavy patterns on each wing.

"Is that him?" Pavan asked.

"I... suppose so? It _was_supposed to be the prince giving the presentation; that should be him," replied Volcan. This was his first time ever actually laying eyes on Prince Avogadro. He had never put much thought into what the prince looked like; he always guessed at least he would resemble his parents, but of course Volcan had never seen the king or queen either; only been described them by his mother.

With the crowd gathered, and all eyes now upon him, the Prince was ready to begin delivering his speech. He took his place at the podium, clearing his throat and accepting a glass bottle of water from one of his assistants, taking a short drink from the bottle before handing it back to the avian, and then turned to the audience.

"Esteemed citizens of Avolon, I welcome you to the Port of Avogadro, for the unveiling of the very latest in aeronautical engineering," the Prince began. "Funded by the crown and built by the most skilled hands in our great city!" He half-turned to gesture behind him with his arm. "I give to you, His Majesty's Airship, the Guardian!" As he introduced the vessel by name, the sound of machinery, hidden by the massive hull, was heard, and the half-filled gas bag began to visibly swell as more gas was pumped inside, causing it to lift from the ground ever so slightly, rising steadily as it progressively filled.

"Designed to resist enemy projectile weapons fired from below, this vessel will defend our city from the heavens above, carrying our finest soldiers into the battle where they shall fall upon the ranks of our foes and deliver punishment as if dispatched by the heavens them-selves." He turned to face the crowd again as the applause began. "This is only the first in a line of combat retrofits; soon, there will be many of these sentinels of the skies, including our next two HMAS City of Avolon and HMAS Unity of Phoenix! With these vessels raining terror upon those who would make themselves an enemy of the crown and its people, Avolon shall never again be threatened by outsiders wanting to harm us or and our way of life!"

"Did he say Unity of Phoenix?" Pavan asked.

"It's just a name, Pavan; don't overthink it," Volcan stated nonchalantly. 'Still... when he says 'Phoenix' I doubt he's referring to me; he's probably referring to the Mondiale family. Got to keep the nobles happy, after all.'

Volcan barely listened to the continuing presentation of the Guardian as the Prince went over its statistics -things that didn't truly interest him; so long as it served its intended purpose that was enough for him. Still, he was curious to know what it would feel like, carried over the field of battle in a steel box, and then deployed to dive bomb the enemy from above, striking them down before they ever knew what was about to fall upon them.

'As if I'd ever get the chance to find out,' the phoenix thought, grimly.

"You there."

Volcan turned to the voice, sensing that it was directed at him. He turned to see the face of a rather large owl staring back at him. A middle-aged male owl, wearing a red shirt and a brown apron emblazoned with two crossed, golden hammers between an arch -the symbol of Avolon's Core of Engineers, who built and operated the siege defenses for the city walls, as well as other inventions funded by the crown. It stood to reason for one to be present at the Port of Avogadro, as they were probably the ones who had built the Guardian.

But what Volcan was concerned with was how the owl was glaring daggers at him through his large eyes. There were also two other engineers with him; an eagle and a crow, standing at his sides.

Volcan didn't know what they wanted, but he could tell by their expressions that they were not there to make friends. He stepped back warily, keeping his hands lowered. "Can I do something for you, gentlemen?" He asked, trying not to let his wariness show.

"You've got a lot of nerve, showing up here after what you did," stated the owl.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you refer to," returned Volcan.

"Don't lie to me," the owl growled. "You set fire to a house in Hawkton; everyone's been saying you did."

"Sir I assure you, I did not cause that fire," returned Volcan.

"Of course you'd say that," the owl returned, taking another step forward. "I would have you know my niece and her daughter were caught in the fire. Fortunately, they got out, but they're still in the hospital and now they're homeless!" His voice was escalating.

Volcan wanted to mention that it was him who had evacuated the two in the building, but he thought better of it. "Sir, I am sorry that happened, but I repeat; I did not start that fire."

"Liar!" The owl exploded. "Everyone says you did it, and everyone who lives in Hawkton saw you there! You can't deceive me!"

The owl's outburst was heard throughout the crowd; the Prince ceased his speech as the Avians spread out before him parted, revealing the conflict that was brewing. The Prince directed his gaze to the side where his guards were watching, and motioned with his hand. They elevated their spears, and marched forward, beginning to work their way through the crowd, while Avogadro himself stepped down from the stage and followed.

"Yes, I was _at_the fire, but I wasn't the one who started it," Volcan returned, trying to retain his composure. "I arrived long after..."

Volcan didn't get the chance to finish before the owl lunged at him. The untrained engineer's incoming punch was obvious, telegraphed by his movements to the combat trained Volcan. He could have countered the punch easily, or stricken back with a faster one, but he restrained himself, settling instead for raising his arm to block it. The fist grazed the outside of his wrist, and he redirected it away from his face.

"I will make you pay!" The owl shouted.

"I have no reason to fight you!" Volcan retorted.

"But I have every reason to fight you!"

The owl moved in to attack again, and as before, Volcan blocked the punch, but the third was faster, more driven by rage than the first two; it got under Volcan's guard, and the punch struck him in the chest. Though possessing more strength than any other Avolonian, Volcan still felt the punch, and stumbled back. He felt a heat welling up in him, and every instinct was telling him to strike back, but Volcan still held himself in reserve, forcing himself not to fight back.

But Pavan was more susceptible to impulse than Volcan was. "Hey, stop it! Leave him alone!" He shouted, getting in between the owl and the fire phoenix.

"Out of my way, boy!" The owl shouted, ready to strike Pavan, but by this time, the guards had arrived; they seized the owl from behind, pulling back his arms and preventing him from throwing another punch. "Unhand me!" He shouted.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The Prince's voice demanded as the young raven emerged from the crowds, storming up to the owl, eyeing him crossly.

"That phoenix is a criminal!" The owl shouted, pointing accusingly at Volcan. "He set fire to a house in Hawkton last night; arrest him!"

"I told you, I didn't set that fire!" Volcan returned.

"Silence!" Avogadro cut them both off, turning to the owl. "I heard about that fire in the night. Why do you think it was this phoenix?"

"He's one of those damn MacAingeal!" The owl retorted. "Everyone knows what they're like; they're savages, burning everything in sight just for the thrill of it!"

The growing tensions were starting to bring a rise out of the crowd; others began to shout in agreement with the owl, and only Pavan spoke in Volcan's defense, but he couldn't even get a word out until Avogadro had to silence the crowd again. "I've known Volcan for years; he's never been the cause of any of the fires in this whole city!"

"He was there! I saw him!" One of the other engineers who had accompanied the owl shouted. "He had to have started the fire!"

Avogadro turned to Volcan, his face remaining neutral as he gave Volcan his chance to speak. "Were you at the scene of the fire, sir?"

"I was," replied Volcan. "But not initially. I was sleeping at home when the glow of the fire woke me; I adorned my uniform and headed over as quickly as I could to lend aid."

"Uniform?" The prince inquired.

"I'm a member of the Avolon Security Forces, majesty," explained Volcan. "1st Division, under Captain Gregory Vinson's command."

"And what did you do while you were there?" The prince pressed further.

"I entered the house through an upper floor window to search for anyone trapped inside," replied Volcan. "I found a young woman and a hatchling on the second floor, and carried them out, where I left them in the care of the medical crews at the scene. But I was summarily arrested for protocol violation, and have since then been suspended."

"A ploy to keep your conscience clear, I'm sure," the owl retorted.

Avogadro shot the owl and his fellow engineers a dangerous look. "You wear the uniforms of the crown's engineering corps.; you bring shame to them all with your uncouth behavior!" He barked. "And you base your accusations on nothing more than this young man's lineage!"

"Your highness, with all due respect, everyone knows the clans of the peninsula are savages," one of the other engineers -the crow, specifically, added. "The history texts at our schools are very clear on describing their destructive nature; they bring only death! It is in their very nature!" The other engineers promptly agreed.

Pavan stepped in, raising his voice to be heard. "Volcan's not from the peninsula; he was born here in Avolon! He carries their blood, but he is as much a citizen of this city as any one of you!"

That seemed to silence the engineers, along with the others in the crowd who spoke in their favour. Avogadro looked at Pavan questioningly, and then to Volcan. "Is that true; you were born here in Avolon?"

"Indeed, your majesty," returned Volcan. "My egg was nurtured at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital; I took my first breath there. I have never been to my family's homeland, nor have I ever had any desire to burn this city. It's my home, and who would destroy their own home?"

"And you swear the only reason you were at that fire was to assist, not to destroy?" The prince asked, squarely.

"My intentions have never been to bring harm to this city, at any point of my life."

Avogadro stared into his eyes for what felt like ages; every second that passed, made Volcan feel as though the raven were looking right through him, until he finally spoke. "I believe you," he stated, and then turned to the owl, tucking his hands behind him as he addressed him. "You owe this young man both an apology, and gratitude for saving your kin."

The owl looked ready to refuse, but to do so would be a direct act of defiance against the Prince, and no matter how much he wanted to have someone to pin blame upon, he would never openly speak against the son of the king. He grudgingly turned to Volcan, and his beak opened as if to say something, but there was only silence.

"Speak, knave!" Avogadro commanded sharply.

The owl lowered his head. "I cannot..." He returned. "I don't care where he was born; he will never be of Avolon."

Volcan felt his heart aching in his chest at the owl's words. His eyes surveyed the crowd; he could see in their eyes, they agreed with him. He put a hand over his stomach as a sickness coursed through him; under their gazes he felt insignificant. He could feel their animosity towards him; their piercing glares, all of them telling him how much they did not want him there -how they wanted him to be gone.

They would _never_accept him...

"Take him away," Avogadro ordered the guards detaining the owl, and then addressed the other engineers. "And send them back to their guild; see to it their Guildmaster knows what has happened. I expect they will deal the appropriate repercussions."

Some of the men protested, claiming they had done nothing. The guards ushered them away.

When they were gone, and all was quiet, Avogadro turned to Volcan. "How do you fare, sir?" He asked.

Volcan scoffed. "I've grown accustomed to this sort of treatment, your highness."

"I find it most distasteful," the Prince stated, and suddenly seemed to have an idea. "Sir, come here a moment," he directed.

"Uh... me?" Volcan asked.

"Yes," the raven replied with a nod.

Hesitantly, Volcan did so, stepping forward to stand at the Prince's side. Much to his surprise, the Prince reached forth to grab Volcan's wrist, raising his hand over his head before he turned to the crowd. "This phoenix is a hero! By his efforts, two of our proud citizens were left unharmed by a calamitous blaze while most of you napped in bed! There is no evidence that he started the fire, and I take great offense to anyone who accuses him of such, with your only cause being his heritage!" He lowered Volcan's arm before continuing. "Now, unfortunately, we have run out of time to continue the presentation, and I no longer see it fit to applaud the builders of our new vessel after one of them decided to cause commotion. Everyone, dismissed."

With that, the crowd began to disperse, parting around the three avians; several of them gave Volcan wary looks. Those that went noticed by Pavan were returned with a scornful glare from the wind phoenix, or a look of warning by Prince Avogadro for those he saw. The citizens left the port until only the Prince and two Phoenixes remained, where the former addressed the two, bearing an apologetic look.

"I promise you, sir, I will personally see to it that engineer is punished for causing this disturbance. Perhaps there is more I can do to make up for how you have been mistreated?" He offered.

Volcan let out a deep sigh, for a moment forgetting the proper etiquette for speaking with one of the highborn, even with the gratitude of having one come to his defense. "That won't be necessary," stated Volcan half-heartedly. "If you began arresting everyone who acted that way towards me, you'd find your dungeon overflowing by midday." He walked past the prince, gaze lowered to the ground and shoulders slumped as he too began to leave the port.

"Your highness," Pavan bade, bowing respectfully before following Volcan, the raven watching them with a blank stare as they left, where he remained until they had left the port grounds.

"I knew this was a mistake," Volcan said, scornfully, as they walked back to town.

"You weren't at fault, Volcan," Pavan stated.

"Of course I was; I'm a MacAingeal," the phoenix returned mockingly. "As far as this city is concerned, I'm at fault for everything. A fire breaks out in Hawkton; surely, I must've caused it." His voice grew more agitated as he carried on. "A robber breaks into a nobleman's house and steals his family jewels; it must have been my doing! An old chimney collapses when the bricks wear away; I must have knocked it down! They would probably even blame a hop weevil infestation upon me if it were even feasible!" He scoffed, kicking a stone down the road, feathers ruffling angrily. "To hell with all of them; see if I ever draw my blade in the defense of these ungrateful sods in the future."

"You and I both know you don't mean that," returned Pavan. In one of the few moments where the wind phoenix slowed down and spoke gently and passively, rather than his usual rushed, impulsive manner. He was sad for his friend; he did not like seeing him this way.

But Volcan was too deep in his frustration to care. "I'm going home... and I'm not coming back out until my suspension ends," he said, spreading his wings and increasing his walking pace.

"Volcan..." Pavan began to say, but the fire phoenix ignored him, taking to the skies and leaving the wind phoenix behind to watch him as he flew back to the city without looking back at his friend.

Right now, Volcan only wanted to be left alone...

In the front of her home, Degra was peacefully seated on the bench in the front yard, reading a book, when she heard wings flapping above her, and looked up to see her son gliding down from the skies above. It did not take her long to notice the distressed look on his face, or how tense he seemed as he landed, briskly folding his wings and approaching the house at a feverish pace. She didn't even wait to place her bookmark before she set it aside and stood.

"Volcan? Are you alright?" She asked.

"No," replied Volcan, sharply, stepping past her and entering the house, barely managing to not slam the door behind him.

Degra stood stunned for a few seconds before she hurried after her son, following him into the house. "Volcan, wait," she said. "What's wrong; did something happen?"

Volcan turned to his mother, a deep scowl on his face. "Of course, something happened, just as I knew_something would happen," he stated. "A relative of that mother and daughter I helped last night heard about the incident, but instead of thanking me, he accused _me of starting the fire, and didn't even make mention of my putting my life on the line for his kin! Then he started a fight with me, disrupting the whole presentation, and _everyone_blames me for it!"

He grabbed his head, frantically clawing at his scalp with only the restraint instilled in him by his training stopping him from smashing the near object to pieces to relieve his pain. "I'm so angry I can hardly contain myself," he said in a strained voice, looking at his hands and noticing that they were ablaze as well as bloodied from clawing his own scalp. "Is this the savage nature they accuse the MacAingeal of having? If it is, I'm starting to feel it! I've never wanted to smash something apart more than I do now!"

"Volcan, please..." Degra tried to reason, but Volcan wasn't listening.

"Why must I be forced to suffer like this? I have done_nothing_ wrong, I risk my life for these ungrateful Avolonians every day, and it's never enough!" He collapsed to his knees, moving his talons to the floor instead of his already bleeding scalp, scraping wood shavings out of the floorboards. "It'll never be enough for these damned, short-sighted...!"

He could even finish what he was going to say, the last word catching in his throat along with a sob. He collapsed, his rage fading so suddenly to become sadness, making him feel a thousand times heavier. He fell to his side, tears of non-watery essence flooding forth from his eyes. He shook uncontrollably, anger fighting with sadness for control.

Degra was at his side within seconds, picking her son up to an upright position and embracing him tightly. He lay his head on her shoulder as he sobbed, pulling back his legs until he was in a fetal position, no longer able to contain his pain. Degra gently shushed him as she held him, wishing she could have helped -and feeling partly to blame for his predicament, as it had been her who had sent him out to the port, never suspecting this would happen.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked up the stairs to see Lighris peering down from the second floor, having heard the commotion and coming out to investigate, only to find his brother awash in tears.

With nary a moment of hesitation, Lighris descended the stairs, joining his mother at his brother's side. The two of them helped Volcan to his feet, up the stairs and to his room, where they let him go to lie down and rest; it was barely the afternoon, but the phoenix felt so overwhelmed with emotion, it had exhausted him. He lay atop his mattress, and became silent, minus a few sobs every now and then. They stayed by his side for what felt like an hour, comforting him until he finally became silent; he had drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

They shut the door, and stood outside the room for a few moments in silence before Degra turned to her elder son. "This is my fault," she said, hurtfully.

"How?" Lighris asked. "What happened, exactly? I only heard a little."

"I sent Volcan to the port with Pavan for the new presentation," she said, on the verge of tears. "I wanted him to have something to take his mind off his suspension, but it resulted in... this instead." She sighed sadly. "He told me it wasn't a good idea, but I still sent him..."

"It is not your fault, mom," Lighris stated. "The townspeople just can't look past his heritage; they're the problem, not you."

"And how does that make it better?" Degra asked, a hint of sharpness in her tone. "I came here to Avolon as a representative, but my motives were that of a mother. I just wanted to raise you two somewhere that you could be happy, and not neck-deep in our clan traditions. Somewhere you could make your own choices, become your own men, and not become what the clan expects you to be."

She shook her head. "But maybe it was a mistake to come here, and to hatch Volcan in this city; you can blend in among the populace, but he cannot -not with those bright colours. Everyone sees him only as a MacAingeal -as a savage from uncivilized land. It matters not how he speaks, how he acts -they see only what is on the surface, and not what is beneath."

Lighris grimaced, remembering the conversation he'd had with Volcan earlier that day about the same topic; Lighris had been insensitive then, but now, after seeing his broken-hearted brother collapsed on the floor of the foyer, he began to understand now what Volcan had been trying to say.

As he struggled to formulate an answer, a knock at the door caught their attention. They looked towards the stairs in mild alarm, turning to each other again with questioning glances before they turned to the stairs once again. Degra stood at the railing while Lighris walked downstairs to answer the door.

He opened it, revealing the avian waiting outside. Lighris took a moment to identify the dark blue hawk waiting beyond, and then noticed the Avolon Security Uniform he wore, bearing the stripes of a captain -as described to him by Volcan. But it was Degra who recognized the hawk first, having come halfway down the stairs and seeing him outside.

"Captain Vinson?" She asked.

"Good day, Madame Ambassador," the captain returned, and nodded to Lighris. "Mr. MacAingeal. Is Volcan home?"

"He's not taking visitors," Lighris returned, with more annoyance than he intended. "What do you want?"

"There's no need to be so cross with me, Lighris," the hawk bade. "I Just needed to talk with your brother, but if he's not available, can you give him this?" He asked, revealing a folded sheet of paper in his hand, which he held out to Lighris.

"I hope this isn't another suspension, Captain," Lighris stated. "After what my brother just went through today, he doesn't need more stress."

"Yes, I heard -from the same fellow who gave me that letter," replied Gregory, nodding sympathetically. "I am sorry that happened to him -some of my men were there, and reported it to me when they returned." He gestured to the piece of paper Lighris held. "But they also gave me that; they said it was from Prince Avogadro, addressed to him -since he is of my division, he knew I would know where to find him."

"The Prince?" Lighris asked, startled.

Gregory nodded. "The letter you're holding bears his signature," replied the hawk. "He personally ordered Volcan's suspension to be lifted, effective immediately; Volcan is clear to return to work tomorrow. I'm also assigning him to a new location and time; a change of pace, if you will."

Lighris tilted his head. "Change of pace?" He asked.

"It's against protocol for me to explain it, but..." He turned, looking over his shoulder cautiously before turning back to Lighris. "I want to give Volcan his space for now, so I'm moving him onto the night patrol in the Garden's District."

"A high-wealth area?" Lighris asked, quizzically. "I thought only the King's Guard could patrol there?"

Gregory arched an eyebrow. "I see Volcan has disclosed more to you than I expected," he remarked, before carrying on with his explanation. "Truth be told, the King's Guard consider the place to be out of their way, and so they leave it for us, with the condition that only senior officers be assigned. As a Corporal, Volcan meets the criteria; the place is slow, so it is my hope that it will give him the privacy he needs until things in Hawkton have smoothed over."

Lighris looked at the letter in his hand with mild skepticism, but relaxed his gaze as he turned to Gregory again. "Alright; I'll make sure he receives it."

"Thank you," returned Gregory. "I'll leave you to it. Good day."

With that, Gregory turned, descending the steps from the door and taking flight into the air, letting Lighris shut the door and leaving the two to consider what had been brought to them. Lighris looked at his mother, who reached out for the note; when he handed it to her, she opened it, and read it aloud for him to hear.

"'By the order of his royal majesty, Crown Prince Avogadro Britannia Christopher Lo'Raven'," she read. "'Corporal Volcan MacAingeal of the Avolonian Security Forces, who was previously placed on suspension for protocol violation, is hereby acquiesced of all charges for his actions on the night of Sorasday, eighth month of the nine-hundred and sixty-seventh year of Avolon. Suspension is to be lifted and Corporal MacAingeal is clear to resume duty as his commanding officer sees fit'," she looked at Lighris. "Gregory was right; this is the prince's handwriting. I recognize his signature, and the signet ring impression here."

"Why would the Prince be so interested in Volcan?" Lighris asked.

"Perhaps, unlike the rest of the higher class, he can see past one's heritage and see the justness of their actions," stated Degra. "I have only met Avogadro a few times; he is much like his father in manner, but he seems to hold a more open mind than the king. Regardless, this is just what Volcan needs to cheer up... I'll show this to him later when he wakes up.

Volcan held the letter gently in both hands, reading the contents slowly and thoughtfully, his expression remaining neutral until he reached the end of it, where his face turned to one of mild surprise. He lowered the letter, looking up at his mother. "The Prince himself rescinded my suspension?" He asked.

Degra nodded. "He did," she replied. "Captain Vinson dropped off the letter himself; he asked me to tell you that you have been reassigned as well, to night patrol in the Garden District."

"To the gardens?" Volcan echoed, this news surprising him more even more. He looked down at the letter, his brow furrowing. "I'm shocked the nobles would allow me anywhere near there; aren't they afraid I'll burn down the hydroponic farms?"

"Now _stop_that," Degra scolded, frowning at him. "Think of this as your chance to prove them wrong."

"Mother, nothing I _ever_do will make them trust me," Volcan argued.

"Only time will tell you for certain," Degra returned.

"Mother..."

"I will not argue with you, Volcan," stated Degra. "At the very least, try; you promised me you would try_._ You need this job, and the Avolonians will one day need you, even if they don't yet realize it. There are forces out there that conventional methods cannot overcome. Science is always advancing, leading to new discoveries and risks, the mysteries of magic are ever being uncovered, unlocking new powers for all who can harness it. Whether by a threat from within, or one from outside, you may one day be this city's greatest protection."

"What could I protect Avolon from that its court of wizards or military defenses could not?" Volcan asked.

"If I knew that, Volcan, I would already be preparing you for it," replied Degra. "The future cannot be predicted any more than it can be stopped, so Lord Aingeal believed."

Volcan lowered his gaze to the letter in his hands, staring at it for a few moments in silence before he let out a sigh. "Alright, mother," he returned, looking up at her. "As I promised this morning, I'll keep trying, for you."

She smiled happily at him. "Not just for me, son," she returned. "For yourself as well."

"Right," agreed Volcan.

Degra walked up alongside her son's bed, embracing him warmly in her arms, draping one of her wings over him. He put his arms around his mother, holding her lovingly and silently thanking her for all her support...

The following evening, Volcan retrieved his armour and service blade from the armory at the 1st Division's barracks where he had left them the night before last. He donned his balistine vest, metal shoulder guards and bracers and splinted greaves before he picked his sword from the locker, drawing it halfway from its sheath to examine the blade, making certain that it was not dulled or rusted, before sliding it back in all the way, and then bringing it to his belt to attach it, testing it for security by pulling at the scabbard.

"Volcan," someone spoke up from the door. He turned, and found Gregory standing in the doorway.

"Captain Vinson," Volcan returned, saluting him.

"Rather short suspension, wasn't it?" He asked.

"So it would seem," the phoenix returned. "I confess, I was shocked when my mother brought that letter to me."

"As was I when it was delivered," agreed Gregory. "But, pleasantly so. It seems the prince sees you for more than the nobility does."

"I'm glad _someone_does," Volcan returned grimly. "Besides you, of course, Captain."

"And others, I assure you," returned Gregory. "Your friend Pavan, especially; I heard he was quite protective of you at the port."

Volcan arched an eyebrow. "You know about that?" He asked.

"Some of our men were there as well," replied Gregory. "They saw that engineer who sparked the fight, and it was also them who brought me the letter from the prince"

"And why didn't any of them say anything while that was happening?" Volcan asked, somewhat irritated. "Having someone speak in my defense would..." His words caught in his throat, nearly forgetting the one who had come to his aid. "Someone who knows me that is; no disrespect for the Prince."

"Indeed, I asked that myself," admitted Gregory. "Not one of them gave a clear answer..." He looked up as Volcan scoffed. "But, all of them spoke in your defense, regardless. They saw that you did nothing to provoke the fight -it was all the fault of that engineer."

Volcan let out a long sigh, rolling his shoulders beneath his steel pauldrons. "I suppose that is something, at least," he said, before deciding to change the subject. "So... out of curiosity, captain. Why assign me to the Garden District?"

"As I told your brother, I hoped to give you a change of pace," explained Gregory. "The Garden District is a slower location than Hawkton and the Seagull Wharf; I wanted to give you your space for now, until things have smoothed over."

"Smoothed over how?" Volcan inquired.

"Hawkton is still talking about the fire; some still believe you caused it, despite what the prince has said," explained Gregory. "But the Garden District is a little more... isolated, than the rest of Avolon; no one there will have even heard of the fire, nor are they strangers to the presence of phoenixes. My hope is, your days will be more peaceful."

Volcan allowed himself a half smile, sensing the sincerity in Gregory's words. It was true, Volcan would have preferred some alone time, prompting him to his next question. "Will I be working with anyone?"

"Garden District is low-risk; standard three shifts per day with one guard per shift, and there is no barracks there, so it is an open location. I've put you on night patrol; a guard who was working that time has fallen ill, and since you were supposed to be on suspension this week, your schedule was freed, so this made you the perfect candidate to take over when Prince Avogadro lifted your suspension."

Volcan nodded in understanding. "I appreciate your efforts for me as always, Captain," he said, solemnly.

"I believe that it is a captain who should do his best for his soldiers, and thus he shall receive the best from them," stated Gregory, stepping out of the doorway to clear the way for Volcan. "Now, off you go; your shift begins soon."

"At once sir," Volcan returned, saluting Gregory once more before he started to leave, only to halt halfway to the door leading out of the armory. "One last thing; do you still require my presence this Sorday at the North Harbour?"

Gregory perked up at the question. "Ah, yes; I'm glad you brought that up," he said. "We received a message that the ship we're going to be meeting will be landing at six bells, before dawn. After your shift at the Garden District that night, report back here, and then we'll proceed to the harbour as a unit."

"We're meeting a ship?" Volcan asked. "Where from?"

Gregory's expression soured at the question, averting his gaze slightly as he tried to come up with an answer. Volcan eyed him with concern, not knowing Captain Vinson to ever hesitate when asked a simple question. Following a short pause, the hawk began his answer. "The visitor is an ambassador from the city of..." He hesitated, but finally forced it out. "Of Lycanthria."

Volcan was sure he felt his head delay its next beat, an intense look upon his face; a look shared by the captain, it seemed. Volcan had heard many a tale about the infamous City of Beasts -a title spread by the traders who wandered between the cities. It was said the city was ruled by wolves with supernatural powers -not like Volcan's with power over the elements, but the power to alter their forms, to transform into primal beasts with an insatiable hunger for mortal flesh.

Volcan did not know the legitimacy of these rumours, but Lycanthria was nonetheless foreboding; they were a militarist city, known for bringing about the fall of several great cities. They commanded a vast army, led by brutal generals, and their soldiers were said to be fanatical in their devotion to the supreme ruler of the city, known as the Tsar. This was merely hearsay, Volcan understood, but it painted a grim picture in his mind whenever Lycanthria was mentioned, and clearly Gregory felt the same, given his apprehension to the topic.

"We are to escort them to the Diplomat's Manse on Elizabeth's Ridge," Gregory finally continued, snapping Volcan from his thoughts. "Do not delay; we must be prompt."

Volcan nodded in acknowledgement, choosing not to question any further. "Aye captain," he said.

Gregory nodded back. "Now, be off with you," he said, gesturing to the door. "You're going to be late."

"Right," Volcan bade. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Stay safe, Corporal," returned Gregory as the phoenix strode past, hurrying out of the armory, leaving the hawk to finish the last of his duties before he would go home for the night...

Volcan's first night at the Garden District was a peaceful one, but the thrill of seeing it for the first time made the shift pass quickly. He spent his patrols taking in the sights, studying the beautifully decorated houses, each one with a yard thrice the size of any that the townhouses in Hawkton. But as beautiful as all the houses were, they paled in comparison to the magnificence of the Mondiale Mansion -the home of Lord Louise Mondiale, whom pioneered the Garden District's most famous landmark, the Hydroponic Gardens.

The efficiency of a several farms, confined within a single structure of glass and steel -that was the idea behind Lord Mondiale's project, providing food to Avolon's ever growing population without sacrificing the natural beauty of the isle's northern half, which would have been demolished to make room for more farms if not for his accomplishment. Before the Garden District was part of the city, it was farmland, encompassing the whole of what the district was now, but Lord Mondiale's project required only a third of the open space that the farm once occupied.

Since the day the gardens had opened, Avolon enjoyed a bountiful harvest every harvest. The angular glass rooftops that captured the sunlight all through the day, feeding the plants with light, while water was provided by a highly sophisticated and advanced irrigation system, fed from the river that separated the hydroponic gardens from the housing quarter, and channelled through an intricate network of piping that Volcan could see through the glass walls as he passed, coursing over the entirety of the greenhouse from wall to wall, forming grids around the supports above the shelves -spaced enough so as not to cut light off from the planters lining the shelves below, each planter filled to the brim with potatoes, yams, beets, parsnips, onions and more -other areas of the greenhouse were used for other vegetables, but the quadrant into which he looked was focused on root vegetables.

"Genius," Volcan thought aloud, feeling a newfound respect for Lord Mondiale. Volcan's people were praised as masters of the smithy, forging weapons and tools of bronze, iron and steel to their strongest form, but even the best craftsman in the peninsula would surely tip his neck to this accomplishment of Lord Mondiale; he didn't know how involved the noble himself had been, but at the very least he had funded and partly designed this glass-covered garden.

'It's a shame I can't go in there,' thought Volcan, sadly. _'I'd love to see the machinations up close.'_But as a fire elemental, the moisture and humidity of the greenhouse interior would render Volcan comatose within minutes of entering, eventually killing him. Still, it was a thrill just finally having time to see one of Avolon's newest and most famous landmarks

Though the following nights Volcan spent at the Garden were not as thrilling as the first; as he grew accustomed to the change in location, it dawned on him just how little there was to see. The twelve houses were only so interesting to study so many nights in a row; the residents never came to him with complaints about their neighbours. He witnessed someone leaving the Mondiale family manor, but they travelled the opposite direction as he, thus barring him from any sort of interaction.

Sorday, the second-last day of the week, finally came. Four bells marked the end of Volcan's shift; he waited for his relief -a falcon named Dalton, who bid him goodnight and took his place in the guardhouse as Volcan began to walk back to Hawkton to join Captain Vinson to greet the Lycanthrian ambassador due to arrive in two hours.

The young phoenix could not help but wonder what he would see when the ambassador appeared before him. He did not even know whether they would be male or female -a detail Gregory had left out, though it was possible that he did not know either. Volcan imagined a tall, broadly built canine with matted fur and speaking in broken English, saying 'Me big wolf' or other stereotypical dumb-talk.

He scoffed and shook his head. 'Don't make assumptions,' he scolded himself, remembering an important lesson from his mother.

The eastern Sea Gate creaked loudly in protest as the guards atop the wall forcefully worked the large mechanism that operated the sliding gate. Using the same principle designs as a castle portcullis, a giant stone wheel was turned by the combined strength of two dozen guards, pushing wooden beams as thick as trees and bringing dense iron chains to wrap around the base of the stone wheel.

The process was grueling and slow, but without this system, opening the ironclad sea gates would be impossible.

The chains, forged by the hands of MacAingeal smiths under commission, did not even bend or groan in protest as they were pulled taught by the turning of the wheel. They held strong as the gates were slowly parted, letting the waters of the Merchant's Channel meet those of the Sea of the Raven, which were parted by the narrow, ridged keel of the ship that passed between the gates as they were opened.

Navy blue sails caught the wind that carried the ship into the channel. Few lanterns covered the deck, offering very little illumination of the crew that guided the ship towards its destination. The name of the ship painted in white upon either side of the bow and at the stern, but it was in a foreign dialect that no Avolonian could hope to read, let alone pronounce, though the guards had been told in advance the ship was known as the Azure Claw, translated in their own tongue.

The ship glided along the waves, followed by a pair of Avolonian craft -single-sail gunboats, forming up at its sides to escort it into port.

At the harbour, Gregory and his guards waited for the ship to arrive. They had seen the beacons from the gates that indicated their opening; the ambassador's ship was near. In addition to himself and Volcan, two additional guards had also been brought along for the assignment; two robins, one male, one female. The male, named Charles, was a Corporal -the same rank as Volcan, as evident by the two stripes on the sleeve of his uniform. Similar stripes were also embroidered onto Volcan's balistine vest, but they were hidden by the metal guard on his shoulders. In addition to his saber hanging at a belt, Charles also held a crossbow, cradled gently in his arms with a quiver of ten bolts on the back of his belt.

The second robin was a female, by the name of Jolina. She was a Private First-class, having only one stripe embroidered into her sleeve. She was smaller than her male counterpart -Volcan didn't know if they were related or not- and like him, carried a saber as her weapon of choice.

"What do you suppose the ambassador will look like?" Jolina asked.

"I have heard ruling class of Lycanthria is wolves; I imagine he will be among them," replied Charles.

"I've never met a wolf before."

"Nor have I."

"I have," Gregory chimed in. "They're a canid species, like foxes or canines -they look a little like both in fact, but most of the time, anatomically larger. Like Avolon, the city is led by a monarch -though there, they are known as a 'Zar' -spelled with a 't' and 's'- rather than a king; Lycanthria runs as an unyielding hierarchy, with one among them appointed as the leader based on strength or, in rare cases, achievement." He looked over at the guards. "There is a biography at the library."

Dockhands were swiftly working to meet the ship as its sails were drawn, slowing it to a crawl as it was steered into port. Crews from the deck of the vessel hurled ropes down to the workers, who used them to pull the ship close to the docks and tie it securely into place while its anchors were lowered into the water with a noticeable splash.

Within moments, a long, wide gangplank was lowered from the deck of the Lycanthrian vessel, steadily slid down along the side until it reached the dock. Some adjustment had to be made to accommodate it, but soon, the plank was securely in place, and the dock workers parted as six armoured figures descended to the plank. Armoured canines, wearing long ringmail hauberks with plated balistine vests worn over the hauberks, and carrying axes with short handles, but large, broad blades with a wicked curve. The six soldiers formed lines on either side of the gangplank, placing the butts of their weapons upon the wharf and resting their hands atop the wooden handle above the blade, which faced directly ahead of them.

Each of these soldiers wore domed helmets with padded coifs surrounding the heads. Holes had been made for the canine ears that protruded from the tops, and the face was left open for their muzzles. The six guards were all wolves of some variety; some gray, some brown, an even one black. The plates that covered their armour were small and numerous, riveted to the balistine vests in various locations creating a scaled pattern on the torso leaving very little of the protective silk backing visible.

Each of these warriors possessed powerful forms; arms thick with muscle that fit snugly against the sleeves of their hauberks, and behind the skirts of riveted rings enshrouding their legs, their tight-fitting leather slacks revealed the mighty limbs beneath.

Volcan felt apprehension coursing over him at the sight of these soldiers -stronger than he had felt when Gregory had told him of the Lycanthrian's coming, his inner warrior already stirring at the sight of these warriors, sizing them up with his eyes. He knew of them only by reputation before today, but to see them now, fully armed and armoured, it left little wonder why they were so frightening to others. Even he, a Phoenix of the fire element and physically superior among avian species, was unsure of his chances should they turn out to be hostile.

He risked a glance to his comrades. He could see similar concern on the faces of Charles and Jolina; Gregory was trying to maintain his composure, but a furrowed brow betrayed his wariness of the six armoured wolves.

Two more yet remained aboard the deck of the ship, the first of whom was already descending. This seventh wolf was garbed in a lighter suit of armour than the first six, with a shorter chain fauld and sleeves, and no steel plates. He wore thick leather bracers, but left his legs unprotected. A saber of some variety rested upon his belt; it had no scabbard, like the swords of the Avolonians, which revealed a flared tip to the blade for added percussion, and a kite-shaped shield in his off-hand.

"Is that the ambassador?" Charles asked.

"I don't think so," replied Volcan, looking past the wolf, where he saw a trail of fabric that was not his, but belonged instead to the one figure among them who was not adorned in armour.

As if on cue, the seventh wolf stepped aside to reveal an eighth arrival, this one not wearing any armour whatsoever, but instead adorned in a scarlet dress fit snugly down to the hip to compliment a curvaceous, female figure. The lower half of the dress flowed lightly in the breeze like curtains in the wind as its wearer took light, careful steps down the plank, taking the hand of the seventh wolf at the bottom, who guided her onto the pier, bowing his head to her as she took back her hand.

The female was a black wolf, with a head of shiny scalp hair tied back into a bun behind a pair of short, broad canine ears. She had a smooth, angular face, devoid of any blemish, and wore elbow-length gloves on both arms. But most striking of all were her eyes; Volcan had to take a second look to confirm he wasn't imagining things, but this wolfess had red eyes, like rubies, and they seemed to glitter with the same luster as she passed a lamppost on the dock.

Looking at those eyes made Volcan feel even more tense. He didn't understand why, though; the wolfess seemed harmless enough, and yet the sight of her was enough to make him tighten the grip he had on his sword scabbard. Was it perhaps the unusual colour of them that he found so disconcerting?

Gregory and his guards gave a cursory bow as the female wolf approached, accompanied by her bodyguard. "Welcome to Avolon, Madame Ambassador," Gregory said politely. "We are honoured to have you. I am Captain Gregory Vinson of the Avolon Security Forces, and I have been tasked with escorting you to your accommodations."

The wolfess bowed her head in return to the hawk, and smiled pleasantly at him. "It is a pleasure, Captain, to be welcomed to your fair city," she said, speaking fluent Avolonian, even her accent failing to slur her words as though it were a second language to her. "My name is Asya Boleslav, representative to his majesty, the great Tsar Dobrilo Sergeyev, and I am truly overjoyed for this opportunity to bridge the gap between our great nations."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," replied Gregory. He turned his attention to the wolf standing next to Asya. "And, would I be correct in assuming that this gentleman with you is your bodyguard?"

"You would be, Captain; this is Vadim, and he has been charged with my protection," replied Asya.

"Understood. Though I must ask your other escorts to return to the deck of your ship," returned Gregory, looking past Asya to the six armoured wolves on the pier. "Our laws dictate that you may only have one with you at all times."

"Understood," she returned compliantly, turning to look behind her and calling out to the wolves in their native tongue. Volcan did not understand a word of their spoken language; it sounded garbled and gibberish to him. None of the wolves voiced any reply to the ambassador, but one by one, they returned to the ship, ascending the gangplank and over the railing. As the last of the wolves stepped onto the deck, the crew withdrew the plank and brought it back aboard the ship, laying it down on the deck for when they would need it again.

Asya turned back to Gregory. "Let us be on our way then, Captain," she bade. "I am most eager to see your beautiful city."

"It would please me to offer you a tour, ma'am, but my orders are to bring you directly to the Diplomat's Manse as quickly as possible," replied Gregory. "I am sure that one of the nobles would happily arrange a tour of the city for you during your stay."

She nodded compliantly. "Very well," she said. "Lead the way, Captain."

"Men, fall-in," Gregory bade, directing his soldiers into standard escort formation; including himself, the guards formed a square around the two wolves, with himself at the forward right. "And, forward!" He ordered, prompting all four guards to begin marching, with the two Lycanthrian visitors walking in tandem with them.

Volcan was placed at the back right, behind Gregory and just off to the right of the ambassador. He tried not to look at her, but he still felt edgy in her presence, as if there was something about her that his instincts sensed, but his mind did not know how to perceive the warning. As if sensing his wariness, she looked back in his direction, but he defiantly stared ahead, avoiding her gaze. Eventually she occupied her eyes on her surroundings, taking in the city around her.

They had left the waterfront heading into the district known as the Central Avolon Market, located at the very heel of the city and stretching from the docks to the district known aptly as Central Avolon -the residential area, between Hawkton, Rook & Raven and Eagle Heights alike. They were taking a short, but scenic route through the city, letting Asya see the shops and market stalls as their proprietors raced to prepare them to be opened for business. They passed a few guard patrols, who stopped to salute Captain Vinson and study the strange visitors.

"Your city is beautiful, Captain," Asya piped up suddenly. "Impressive architecture, lively streets, and such promising looking protectors." At her third statement, she glanced back at Volcan, who this time risked meeting her gaze, spotting intrigue in her eyes as she studied him knowingly. She tore her eyes from him as they stepped onto a bridge, where she left their side and walked over to the rail, peering over into the cool, clear water flowing below. "And these canals, carrying water all through the city; where are they sourced from? From the channel?"

"No, my lady," began Gregory. "The canals are fed from the two rivers that flow around the back of Elizabeth's Ridge from Lake Annabelle. The canals were all dug out in advance, lined with stonework, and then the water was let in to fill them. They are... sometimes used for leisurely boat rides or to move goods through town, but their main purpose is to bring clean drinking water to all of the citizens to avoid the displeasure of dry wells or, filtering sea water."

"A splendid design," she praised, stepping back from the rail and returning to the group. "Lycanthria is an inland city with few lakes in the vicinity; most of our water comes from the Bregor..." She paused mid-sentence, realizing she was starting to speak in her native tongue out of habit. "An escarpment we know as the Howling Mountain in your tongue; from its icy peaks, we are given fresh water, and so it is necessary for all of our farms to be placed close to the river that is fed from the peaks."

"Do you have an irrigation system for your farms?" Gregory asked.

"Irri...gation?" Asya asked, the word having no meaning to her. Gregory went on to explain in simple details about what he meant by irrigation; a system meant for feeding fresh water to farms, applying controlled amount of water to cover larger area of farmland. Asya seemed to piece together what he was describing, and nodded. "Oh yes, we do have something like that. I confess, I know very little about them; I spend most of my time in the palace."

"Understood."

But as Gregory turned to look ahead again, he stopped. They had stepped onto another canal bridge, crossing from the Central Avolon Market into the Central Avolon residential district, with the inactive marketplace now at their back, only to find their way forward blocked. Two carts stood at the end of the bridge, pushed directly onto the bridge between the archway, blocking any foot traffic from passing through.

For avians, this was little more than an inconvenience, as any one of them could easily fly over the carts to continue on their way, but no such luxury existed for the ambassador or her bodyguard. "Now who would have done this?" Gregory asked.

"Farmers from outside the city limits, maybe?" Charles offered. "Perhaps they forgot something at home and didn't realize they left their carts at a poor location."

"Farmers with _empty_carts?" Volcan asked, feeling edgy and noticing their rather precarious position on the bridge. It was wide enough for five average Avolonians to stand shoulder to shoulder in a row, and left them exposed from four directions. "Captain... something is wrong here."

"Agreed," returned Gregory, reaching for his sword and gently drawing it. "Master Vadim, please remain close to Miss Boleslav," he said directly to Asya's bodyguard -she quickly translated Gregory's words for him, and the wolf stood alert, hefting his shield and putting a hand to his sword. "Volcan, move these carts out of the way. The rest of you, keep watch."

Volcan, who had a hand to his sword and was preparing to draw it, took his hand from it and moved promptly to the carts as directed by Gregory. He saw no anchors of any sort -no blocks nor stones in the wheels to keep them from rolling away. Not that they would hinder him; he could move these empty carts with but a single hand. But just as he prepared to do so with the first cart, his hands upon the rim, a figure rose up from behind it.

A canid form, clad in leather armour, emerged from behind the cart. In his hands he bore a crossbow -not one of Avolon make, being much bulkier and heavier than what an avian warrior would employ in the field. A steel lathe was bent back in readiness to fire, with a barbed bolt protruding from upon the table of the weapon, and a murderous intent followed the bolt from the yellow eye of the one who held it.

Volcan was not sure the weapon was aimed at him, but his first assumption was as thus. He had no time to reach for his sword, and his armour would not withstand such a powerful weapon at his current distance from the target, leaving him with but one choice. He gripped the cart firmly, and heaved upward, flipping the cart into an upright position. He heard the snap of the crossbow; he saw the barbed tip of the arrow penetrate the bottom of the cart. The phoenix kicked the cart, sending it hurtling back into the canid being behind it; he heard them yelp in pain as the wooden mass fell upon them.

"Ambush!" Volcan shouted, though as he turned, he knew his comrades were already aware.

A line of six canid figures had appeared at the other end of the bridge, hands grasping weapons at their belts, ranging from axes with curved handles to dense short swords. They held shields in their off hands, but as with the first, wore only leather armour and no helmets, revealing canid figures with fur ranging from red to brown to gray; they slightly resembled wolves, but were more lithe-figured, their fur turning black at the feet and paws and at the ears and bushy tails twitched behind them, each one ending in white tips.

Volcan did not know what race stood before him, but their intentions were clear. He grasped his sword, pulling it from its scabbard and taking it into both hands as he moved to rejoin his comrades as the strange figures stepped onto the bridge, faces filled with rage, and on close inspection, the phoenix could see that their eyes were upon Asya and Vadim.

Gregory apparently saw this as well. "Protect the ambassador!" He commanded, bringing his sword to bear, as Jolina drew hers and stood at his side.

Charles raised his crossbow and took a shot at one of the canids, the bolt striking into the chest of the nearest. His target drew back in pain, but did not fall; he struck the arrow with the fist that held his weapon, and it fell harmlessly to the ground. As Charles scrambled to fit another bolt onto his weapon, his comrades formed a line before him; Vadim remained at Asya's side, but his wicked curved sword was in hand, ready to be used.

The first of the canids rushed forward, sword in hand. Jolina stepped forth to meet the charge, parrying his stabbing blade fluidly, but her proper guard was soon followed by an erroneous block; the canid followed his failed stab with a backhand swing, and she raised her sword to defend, but was too low; the enemy sword struck her blade in the middle, and it was nearly knocked from her hand, while the tip of the enemies' sword nicked her arm.

As the next attacker charged, Gregory seized a weapon on his hip that previously Volcan had not noticed, but the following explosion and brief flash of fire and smoke from the tip of it told the phoenix exactly what it was; Gregory had brought his officer's pistol. The unfortunate soul that stood in its trajectory was felled, blood gushing forth from the wound it had left to soak the clothes and fur beneath his leather armour that had availed him not against the more powerful projectile weapon.

But from behind the fallen canid, another archer was revealed; he had been hidden behind his companions until that moment, and unlike the first, this archer _did_shoot Volcan. The phoenix felt the bite of the crossbow in his side, and recoiled from the hit, but fought against it as he saw an axe-wielding canid rush him. He brought up his sword in a mighty backhand as the canid attacked; the assailant's poorly-planned swing would cost him as his weapon clattered to the stone bridge, with a disembodied paw still clutching it as its former owner shrieked in agony.

Seizing the precious second, Volcan looked down at where the crossbow bolt had struck him, noticing the lack of darkening around the wound; he was not bleeding. He pulled the bolt free, finding it only caught in the silk of his protective vest. He noted the design of the arrow, and sighed with relief. 'Broadhead,' he thought. This, combined with the crossbow being a lighter variant than the one carried by the first, had spared his life. 'Fortune favoured me this day.'

_ _ By now, Charles had loaded his second arrow; taking aim at the enemy archer and timing his shot, the bolt left his weapon and imbedded itself into the skull of the canid archer. He fell, lifeless to the cobblestone, and Charles was left triumphant, but put to the defensive as the fourth of the canids charged him; he resorted to his crossbow for defense, catching the opponent's weapon with his, and fumbled for his sword, but failed to draw it. He was thrown from his feet, falling painfully onto his wings.

It seemed Charles' life would be taken at that moment; Volcan moved to assist, but the closer and faster Vadim finally leapt into action, his wicked curved blade rending the head of the assailant from his shoulders with a single, unhindered swing, bathing Charles in gore as the headless body fell upon him much to his horror.

With Charles safe, Volcan was free to meet the charge of the last of the canid warriors, who despite the clear disadvantage had not lost courage. The warrior charged with his shield leading; Volcan swung from the side that held his weapon; the canid angled his shield to defend against the blow, but buckled under the force of Volcan's swing, unable to withstand the supernatural strength of the phoenix, and preventing a proper counter attack.

The canid attempted to stab around his shield, aiming for Volcan, but his sword failed to reach. The phoenix slapped the weapon away with his bracer, exposing the canid's arm, which he seized in his mighty hand, and effortlessly lifted the canid off the ground, and when the stranger dropped his shield to free his off hand., likely hoping to use it to free himself from Volcan, the phoenix bludgeoned him with the pommel of his sword, rendering the canid unconscious.

Volcan dropped the unconscious canid to the ground, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vadim turning sharply, running back to the side of his charge in time to protect Asya from an incoming crossbow bolt. His shield failed to stop the projectile; the bolt punched through the wood and imbedded itself into Vadim's chest; he fell noisily to the bridge. Volcan traced the bolt's trajectory back to the first archer, who had recovered from the phoenix's previous attack. His bolt had been intended for Asya, but the dutiful Vadim had managed to prevent it from finding its mark.

Volcan acted quickly, rushing the canid archer; they abandoned their weapon and turned to flee. They accelerated to an impressive sprinting speed in seconds, easily outpacing Volcan, who was not much of a sprinter. But no creature born of the earth mother could hope to outrun an avian on the wing.

With a powerful leap, Volcan took to the air, arching over the city buildings they passed as he pursued the canid. He thrust his sword back into its scabbard, intent on taking this one alive, and dove into them from behind. His powerful arms seized the canid, who cried out in horror as his feet were ripped from the street, legs kicking frantically for purchase as the world seemed to rush past him as he was carried through the air by the phoenix.

Volcan rose over the city streets before turning his course, returning to ground level and upon landing, dumping the canid to the street; they fell clumsily and tumbled several paces before finally coming to a stop. Volcan stormed up to them, drawing his sword again before holding it at the neck of the canid as he regained his senses.

"Yield at once," he commanded. "You are beaten."

The canid shouted at him, but the phoenix was left flabbergasted by the language used by the lithe-figured canine; he did not understand a word that they spoke. The dialect sounded similar to the language in which Asya and Vadim communicated, though not as guttural, as if it were a variation of the tongue, or the result of mixed culture.

"I cannot understand you," Volcan stated. "Do you know any Avolonian?"

The canid continued to try and speak to him in his unknown tongue, but it was a hopeless cause; Volcan had no idea what the canid was trying to say. He noted they were not yet unarmed though; there was a dagger in their belt. He reached down; the canid flinched, likely expecting Volcan to finish him, but instead the phoenix yanked the dagger from its holster, stuck it through his belt securely, and then hoisted the canid to his feet, dragging him back to his companions.

Volcan reached the bridge where he'd left the Captain and his comrades. Charles and Gregory were helping Vadim to his feet while Jolina kept watch over the surviving attackers. Including the one Volcan now held, four of the attackers out of the eight that had attacked remained alive, though the one whom he had taken the hand of would expire within the hour without proper medical attention. He dropped his captive to the side of his fellows, nodding to Jolina, who nodded back in acknowledgement, before he turned his attention to the others.

"Madame Ambassador, are you hurt?" He asked.

Asya turned to Volcan, shaking her head. "No, sir; I am unharmed," she replied.

"How fares your bodyguard?" Volcan asked, turning his attention to Vadim; he had seen where the arrow had landed, and feared the wolf guard would not survive such a wound, but much to his astonishment, Vadim was standing on his own quite easily, the bolt that had pierced him now laying forgotten on the bridge, with very little blood oozing from the wound it had left.

"He appears to be well," replied Asya. "Thank you for your concern."

But Volcan remained muddled by the sight of Vadim's ease of standing on his own. 'I could swear that bolt went deep enough to at least nick his heart,' he thought. 'He is not wearing any added protection over his chest... could it be that his shield slowed the bolt enough to spare him?'

It was that, or Lycanthrian balistine was much stronger than that of Avolon...

"Private," Gregory spoke suddenly, looking at Jolina. "On the previous block there is a local alert bell; get to it and ring for reinforcements." He pointed where he meant, indicating back the way from which they had come. He then turned to Volcan. "Go with her, in case any more are lurking about."

"Yes, Captain," returned Volcan, following the female robin as Charles moved to take her place and watch the captured assailants.

As Volcan fell in to pace with Jolina, they strode off the bridge and rounded a bend to come in sight of the alarm bell previously indicated by Captain Vinson. Systematically placed throughout Avolon in every district, these bells were the only means of communication from a distance, used to send warnings throughout the district to alert nearby patrols that their aid was needed or that there was an emergency in the area. It was effective, to a point, but it all depended on if there was a patrol in the vicinity to hear it.

They made a beeline to the bell, with the female robin stepping under it, seizing the rope and pulling. She rang it several times, the resonating sound echoing through the streets; it would reach any guards close enough to hear it -or wake every citizen in the district, or both, and now all they could do was wait.

"Corporal," Jolina piped up, looking at Volcan. "What were those canids? Were they Lycanthrians?"

"I'm not sure," Volcan replied honestly. "They were much smaller in stature than those we saw arrive on the Ambassador's ship, but the one I captured spoke in a dialect like theirs." He recounted the looks that he had seen the assailants giving the ambassador when they had stormed the bridge. "But that would make little sense; their apparent target was the ambassador herself."

"Then they cannot be of Lycanthria; why would they attack one of their own?"

"Perhaps Miss Boleslav herself will be able to tell us more," replied Volcan. "Once we get her to safety."

Within a moment, a patrol of Avolonian guards arrived; four soldiers accompanied Volcan and Jolina back to the bridge, where Gregory set them upon detaining the captive canids. The guards drew their weapons and ordered the canids to their feet, leading them with their blades back into the Central Avolon Market where they would be taken to the nearest barracks for questioning.

"Corporal," he said; Volcan looked over, thinking Gregory was talking to him, but he quickly noticed that Gregory was talking to the Charles, not him. "I would like you to accompany these men back to the barracks; keep your bow handy in case any try to escape. We will get the ambassador to safety."

Charles acknowledged the order, running to join the other guards and leaving his comrades to handle the safety of the ambassador. Gregory ordered Volcan and Jolina to fall in once more, forming a triangle formation around Asya and the wounded, but apparently still fit Vadim, and resuming their journey through the city.

"My apologies, Madame Ambassador," Gregory stated. "But for your own safety, I must insist we move quickly. There may be more assailants about."

"Understood, Captain," Asya returned without argument. "Lead on."

Gregory, Volcan, Jolina and their charges were soon crossing Eagle Heights to Elizabeth's ridge in ten strokes of the city's clocks, spurred on by the anxiety left by their encounter with the strange canids, each having to fight not to have their minds overwhelmed with the question of who the strangers were, why they were after the Lycanthrian ambassador, and most of all how they had been able to stage such an attack within the heart of Avolon.

Volcan still felt the ambassador herself could have answered their questions, but he held his tongue, knowing that it was not his place to make such an inquiry, and that there was more important task yet to focus on -ensuring that Asya reached the Diplomat's Manse, safely.

There were no further signs of any attacks from the strange canids that had ambushed them. They seemed to be in the clear, and made use of it, reaching the large, beautifully constructed mansion shortly and bringing the ambassador to the main doors, where another waited for them. A regally-dressed eagle stood before the door to the mansion, standing with his arms tucked behind his back and head held high in pride and a show of superiority. His crown was combed back and styled into a wedged shape, before angling upright at the back, almost making his head appear to have a spike from the front. His head was coated in several brilliant white feathers -too white, even, and beneath his naturally furrowed brow, two golden eyes stared out over an orange beak.

On the chest of his decorative overcoat, worn to chase away the chill of the morning, a noble house's crest was embroidered, but it was partially hidden by the oversized collar of the coat. But Gregory did not need to see the crest to know who awaited them. "Lord Endicott," the hawk bade, bowing his head respectfully between breaths.

"You seem winded, Captain," the eagle stated obviously. "What is the cause of your plight?"

"We were attacked in Central Avolon, by unknown assailants of canid species," replied Gregory.

Endicott's eyes widened. "Attacked? In the very heart of Avolon?" He asked, stunned. "How could such a thing happen?"

Asya piped up before he could continue. "They were foxes; vulpines, Captain," she bade. "I suspect they were a remnant of the military once serving a city we conquered many years ago. The city of Anapol."

"Then what in blazes were they doing here?" Jolina asked, momentarily forgetting herself, and flushing when she realized such. "Oh, pardon, Madame Ambassador."

"It is quite alright," Asya assured Jolina. "I too am shocked to find their resistance active here, many days from Lycanthria or the remains of Anapol; it is so unlike them to wander so far from their home."

"Let us merely give thanks that you are safe, Madame Ambassador," Lord Endicott piped up. "Thanks to the dutiful actions of our fine Security For-" He paused mid sentence; he had been looking between the guards until his eyes settled on Volcan, the half-lidded gaze shifting to eyes being fully open, showing his astonishment. "Captain, what is he doing here?" He asked, gesturing to Volcan.

The phoenix suppressed a groan and tried not to roll his eyes. 'And so, it begins,' he thought.

"I invited Corporal MacAingeal on this assignment," replied Gregory. "I brought the very best I had available to escort the ambassador."

"And the _best_you had was this savage?" He asked, glaring at Volcan. "You could very well have chosen better, Captain."

Volcan averted his gaze, not even willing to feel angered by the nobleman's manner. The predictable scorn of one of the nobility could not compare to the atrocity he had endured earlier in the week, and though it still made him clench his fists in frustration, he vowed not to let it show... He would not give Endicott the satisfaction of seeing that his words hurt...

But as Gregory was about to speak again, Asya spoke first, with a tone of disgust as she addressed the eagle "Such callous disregard," she said, bringing Endicott's attention back to her. "For what reason would you show such disdain for one of your own soldiers?"

"Pardon, Madame, but this..." He gestured to Volcan. "Soldier, you speak of, is an outlander. He comes from a tribe of savages that live to the southwest; they are most uncivilized lot you could possibly meet. They..."

"Beyond colour and station, I see no difference between this young avian and yourself, Lord Endicott," Asya boldly started, causing the eagle's beak to hang slack as if the wolfess had just insulted his entire family. "He carries himself as any of your soldiers -from those I have seen- do; with pride and strength. He speaks as clearly and intelligibly as yourself and Captain Vinson, yet you make it sound as if he should be speaking in grunts and clicks like a cave-dweller. And most of all, he faced those who sought my head with courage; I saw him best three of the attackers by his own hand, and yet managed to avoid killing each of them!"

The eagle struggled to form a reply, trying to ward off the attack on his pride from Asya's earlier comparison between himself and Volcan, but evidently had trouble finding words that would not include profound slander towards the Lycanthrian Ambassador. But Asya was not done. "Were he of Lycanthria, he would be congratulated for his efforts today, for without his skill, those who sought my head this day might very well have it!" She looked back at Gregory. "No offense to yourself, Captain," she added, politely.

"None... taken, ma'am," he returned. Even Gregory was surprised by her willingness to stand up for someone not of her own city.

"Madame Ambassador, I do believe that you are ..." Endicott began to say, but Asya cut him off.

"Enough," she stated. "I will hear no more from you. When I see the king this evening, I will ask that he keep the narrow-minded out of our discussions." She looked at Vadim, uttering something to him in their native tongue, to which he nodded in reply to whatever she had said. "Now if you will excuse me, my journey here to Avolon has been long, and today's excitement has drained the life out of me. I would like to find my quarters and rest for a while before my first meeting with his majesty, King Christopher." With that, she lifted the front of her dress and approached the doors of the manse, ascending the stairs carefully and accompanied by Vadim, who paid no mind to the stunned eagle.

Volcan too stood in awe at what had just transpired before him. A stranger from a foreign land, rising to his defense against her own hosts in the city of Avolon; even if the location were not a factor, it was rare to have anyone defend his honour aside from Gregory or Pavan, except of course when Prince Avogadro had done the same at the Port of Avogadro earlier that week. It was still very strange to him, to have someone speak in his defense and not sink away into the shadows to avoid confrontation...

It was not until he felt someone clap his shoulder he broke free of his shock, turning find Gregory with his hand upon the Phoenix. "Come; there's work to be done. We now know the identity of the attackers; now we must find out where in the city they came from." He turned to Volcan. "Though you have already served your hours today, I need your help further, if you are willing."

Volcan sucked in a breath; he did not yet feel fatigue creeping over him, and was ready to continue doing his part. "What're your orders, sir?" He asked, dutifully.

Gregory smiled in appreciation, before his expression turned serious once more, and he relayed his instructions. "Fly back to the docks, and go to the harbour master's office; pull the registration log and see if you can find anything related to the city of Anapol," instructed Gregory.

Volcan understood the Captain's reasoning; all ships that made port in Avolon required to be officially registered at the harbour master's office, where they would sign documents including ship names, manifests of crew and cargo upon arrival and departure when they would set sail. Among these documents, particularly with ships christened by official leaders of state, would be official seals belonging to that city -if any Anapolian ship had ever ventured into Avolon, there would be documents related to them.

But Volcan sensed one possible discrepancy they may face, remembering the ambassador's earlier words. "Miss Boleslav said that Anapol was conquered by Lycanthria some time ago; would any ship still sail under her standard?"

"He raises a fair point," Jolina agreed.

"It is hard to say, but if there is a ship docked here that flies Anapol's colours, it would be a good place to start investigating. As Miss Boleslav suggested these could be remnants of the fallen, seeking vengeance, and they will not stop until they are satisfied." He turned his gaze to Jolina. "You are to accompany him; help him at the office."

"Yes Captain," Jolina returned diligently; an undertone of exasperation betrayed how the female robin was not looking forward to sorting through piles of paperwork dating back the past decade, though kept what complaints she might have had to herself.

"I will return to the barracks for now, and start with the prisoners. With any luck, at least one among them can speak Avolonian, so that we might pry some information from them," returned Gregory. He concluded their meeting with a wave of dismissal. "Now, go."

Row upon row of documents, sealed within wooden boxes each marked with letters of the Avolonian alphabet were spread out before Volcan and his fellow Avolon Security officer. So many were the stacks, containing the records of every ship to visit Avolon within the past decade -on the summer solstice of each year, documents aged more than ten years were to be updated, and as thus were often disposed of

Volcan silently thanked whatever gods the Avolonians worshipped -something he did not pay attention to- that the current proprietor of the office was particularly obsessive over keeping everything in order by date, and arranged by alphabet, else himself and Jolina could spend days searching the records for what they sought. They decided to start with 'A', based upon 'Anapol' -and hoping that the spelling was correct; with different languages also came different alphabets, and as such the writing and spelling might not be as it sounded. They asked the harbour master if he had anything to offer on the subject; he informed them that the most current records were always kept at the front of the shelves.

It seemed as good a place as any to start, and so the phoenix and robin found the section marked 'A' for Anapol. The boxes containing the documents were kept in a two-by-two row, and without knowing which one specifically was more recent, they pulled out both boxes at the front, opening it to open the scroll cases to retrieve the documents.

"Gently if you please; I want to keep those in fair condition," the albatross proprietor said scornfully. "And make sure you put them back in the exact order you take them out."

The two guards were unfazed, but did as they were asked, treating the documents with great care as they searched through the most recent files, hoping to find something relating the Anapol that would give them some clue to the location of the forces within their own walls. The only way they could have entered was via the Merchant's Channel, which meant there had to be a ship docked somewhere in the city.

"Anapol... Anapol..." Volcan muttered as he searched, opening one scroll case after another, checking the names and seals. He hated this part of his duty, sifting through parchments, especially when he couldn't find what he needed quickly.

Jolina did not seem to enjoy the task anymore than Volcan did, but she voiced no complaint, and she seemed to be making more progress than Volcan -she was already onto checking her eighth cylinder while Volcan was only on his fourth. She finally piped up as she unfurled the documents contained within the case. "Hold... I think I have something here," she replied.

"Tell me," bade Volcan, about to open another scroll case but pausing.

"The company seal on this document belongs to one of the merchant's guilds of Venicia," Jolina explained, showing Volcan the document. "But the name of the ship that they brought in sails under the name of 'Anapol's Memory'. It landed here in Avolon a fortnight ago, delivering a shipment of Venician robes, for the Mage's Council."

The council imported_their robes, from Venicia? _'No taste for local finery, eh wizards?' Volcan thought, gingerly. "It may be a coincidence, but it's something," returned Volcan, placing the scroll case he held back into the box from where he found it. "Let's put everything back, and then go investigate."

"Should we notify the captain?" Jolina asked.

"Not just yet," replied Volcan. "Not until we know for sure we've got the right lead; for now, we're only going there to ask questions, nothing else."

Jolina nodded in understanding, assisting Volcan in putting away the documents they had withdrawn. After replacing the boxes upon the shelves from whence they had come, and departed from the harbour master's office, thanking the albatross proprietor on their way out.

"Which pier?" Volcan asked as the docks spread out before them upon leaving the office.

"Number seventeen," replied Jolina.

Volcan eyed the docks from left to right, walking a little closer to one of the signs to get a better look at its numeric designation, reading 'thirty-one'. "How are these ordered?" Volcan asked.

"West to east, I believe," replied Jolina. "So, if we go right, we should find the correct pier."

Volcan nodded, following the boardwalk that ran parallel to the harbour, counting down the pier numbers listed on the signs until finding the one they sought. He stopped in his tracks at the bold, white '17' painted on one of the signs. Slowly, he followed the pier, his eyes finding their way to the ship docked at the side of the wharf. His eyes found a large trade frigate, sails furled and anchors lowered, resting in the water. On the side of its hull, a name was engraved, but it was in another tongue; he could not read it. But Jolina seemed to recognize it.

"That writing on the ship's side looks like the one I saw in the document, before the translated name," she explained. "This should be the correct ship."

"Then let's not delay," said Volcan, walking down the pier. "Let us see if there's a..." He trailed off, staring ahead to the wooden gangplank resting on the dock and reaching down from the deck of the ship. "Strange..."

"Is something wrong, Corporal?" Jolina asked.

"The gangplank is lowered... but there are no guards," stated Volcan. "What kind of merchant crew would leave access to their ship wide open?"

"Perhaps the force we fought in town was the entire crew?" Jolina suggested. "They would need to keep the plank lowered to get back aboard."

"There were only eight in the group we fought," replied Volcan. "A ship this size surely requires a larger crew than that. Not to mention hands for moving cargo."

He examined the gangplank, and was considering ascending it to go look up on the deck, when something caught his eye. A red splotch on the gangplank near the base, splashed across the wood as if thrown from a pail. Volcan looked closely at the red substance, and felt a sense of foreboding as he realized what it looked like. He knelt, touched it with his finger, and realized it was wet.

"Corporal," Jolina asked from behind him. "Is that...?"

"It is," he replied, darkly. "It's blood... and it's still wet."

Volcan rose to his feet briskly, hand grasping his sword. "Private; locate a patrol immediately and bring them here," he instructed, his voice firm as he drew the blade forth from its scabbard. "I will remain here in case anyone tries to come off; go now!"

"Y-Yes, Corporal!" Jolina returned, spinning on her heel and running back into the waterfront to seek an alarm bell, while Volcan remained positioned at the gangplank, waiting for reinforcements.

The interior of the ship was like a scene from some twisted nightmare.

Bodies were strewn about the lower decks, not one spared from whatever force had brought them to their gruesome demise. The leather armour of the Anapolians had been no protection; their throats were slashed, their chests torn open as if by some wild feral beast on a rampage. Even the walls had not been spared by the whirlwind of death that had stricken the Anapol's Memory. The crew had fought back; they had died with weapons in their hands, weapons that had not availed them in their time of need.

It seemed as though not a one had been spared. Doors had been smashed open to get at the crewmates that had attempted to hide from the attackers, only for their entrails to decorate the walls. The captain's cabin had been ransacked, and the Avolonians found what they assumed to be said captain... in pieces across the room.

Even Volcan struggled to contain his nausea at the sight. The other soldiers that accompanied him were almost doubling over in disgust; some had to remove themselves to avoid being seen spilling out their breakfast. Those that had the stomach to remain protested, but Volcan told them to let them go.

"Not many would have the stomach for a sight like this," he told them.

"Corporal," Jolina called into the lower decks from above. "Captain Vinson is on his way now, along with Captain Beauregard of Fifth Division."

5th Division was the guard unit that handled security of the Central Avolon Market district, which also included the waterfront area where they now stood. It made sense that the captain of said division would want to make an appearance, as this incident had happened under the watch of his unit. He turned to look back up the hall to where Jolina watched him, and relayed his next instructions. "Form a perimeter, secure the scene and let no one except the captains and their troops approach."

"Understood," Jolina called back.

The soldiers carried out their instructions, securing the ship until the arrival of the captains. Two stood at the gangplank, to stop any approach. One took position at the bridge, and Jolina took the last with her to watch the starboard rail. Only Volcan remained below decks, still shocked by the grisly scene no matter how many times he looked at the mutilated corpses all around him. His sword was still held in his hand; by now he had all but forgotten he had even drawn it, though it was unlikely to taste blood this day.

He lost track of time as he stood there in that floating mausoleum, barely noticing the sound of talons descending into the lower decks; he turned, looking over his shoulder to see Captain Vinson, in the company of a male red kite bearing the same captain sigils as himself, both of whom regarded the scene with expressions of horror.

"By the gods..." Gregory breathed.

"You!" The kite barked, pointing at Volcan. "Did you do this?!"

Volcan showed the red kite his dry sword. "I never touched them, Captain Beauregard," he stated before he lowered his sword again. "The scene as you see it is exactly how I found it."

"He speaks truly, Odis," Gregory added, motioning to the walls with his hand, to the various slash patterns in them. "This wood was not cut by a sword of any design; this is the claw of a massive beast." He pointed to the corpses. "And their chests, ripped open, as if by a rake. Not even the most jagged of blades would inflict wounds such as these."

"Then..." The kite captain began to say, only to pause, whatever words he had in mind no longer seeming appropriate to the situation. "What... what did this? Surely there were witnesses?"

"Anyone who would have seen the attacker up close is now lying eviscerated in this room," Volcan stated grimly.

Gregory scoffed. "And it is early in the morning; witnesses will be few," he said. "But nonetheless, I will send men to begin questioning the dockworkers; at least some of them will have started early enough they might have been here."

"What shall I do, Captain?" Volcan asked.

Gregory let out a sigh. "You have done enough for now, Corporal. You have already put in more time today than needed and you still have your assigned shift tonight; Captain Beauregard and I can handle things from here. An investigation will have to be opened, but that is for us to handle. Return home and rest; you've earned it."

At first Volcan wanted to protest, but his words caught in his throat, realizing that he was indeed tired, and what he had witnessed there aboard that ship had overwhelmed him. He did need rest. Besides, he was only a Corporal; investigations were beyond his rank and experience. There was little more he could offer...

Volcan returned his sword to its scabbard, sliding it until the hilt clicked against the top of the sheath. "Understood, Captain," he returned.

"Thank you for all of your help today, Corporal," said Gregory as he stepped aside to let Volcan pass, watching the phoenix as he left the lower decks of the ship.

Stepping back out into sunlight, and returning to dry land, Volcan began the slow, uneasy walk back to his home in Hawkton, all the while recounting the day's events. When he had received the assignment to escort the Lycanthrian ambassador, he had envisioned a simple task of leading them through the city to the Diplomat's Manse, but he hadn't imagined warriors from a fallen kingdom seeking vengeance would appear within Avolon's walls, and stage an attempt on the ambassador's life.

But worst of all, the only ones who could provide answers -the very would-be assassins themselves, had perished, and not by the edges of Avolonian swords, but by the claws of some creature he could not imagine. And it had all happened while he was merely a short jaunt away at the harbour master's office, reading documents. Someone had found the Anapolians in less than an hour of them revealing themselves, and wiped them out in the process.

The timely appearance of the Lycanthrians, said to have the power to become feral beasts -could they have been the ones behind this? There was no proof, of course -not unless a witness could place one of them at the scene, which he hoped would be found.

Volcan thought back to his mother's words; that there would be dangers Avolon would face that it could never truly be ready for. Could this be a sign that one of those events were now about to begin?

As he entered Hawkton, he rounded a corner, and elevated his gaze in time to see a familiar face. Pavan was alarmed to find Volcan standing before him. They were silently only briefly, before as always, Pavan chose to get the first word.

"M-Morning, Volcan," he said, but without usual, excited manner.

"Good morning, Pavan," returned the fire phoenix.

"I uh..." Pavan looked over his shoulder. "I was just stopping at your house looking for you. Wanted to see how you were doing, after..." he trailed off.

Volcan smiled weakly at him. "Yeah... I am alright." He said. "My... suspension got lifted."

Pavan perked up at that, his manner shifting rather sharply. "Lifted?" He echoed. "By who; the captain?"

"The _Prince,_apparently," replied Volcan.

Pavan's jaw fell slack. "By the Prince?!" He echoed.

Volcan nodded. "Yes. It seems he... sympathized with me after witnessing that fight."

Pavan threw out his arms in exasperation. "At least someone did, blast it all..." He chided, shaking his head in disgust. "Why is it you and your family must put up with this?"

"My mother keeps telling me that one day it will end," replied Volcan. "That one day I will win the hearts of the Avolonians. I do not know if I believe her, but..."

Once again, the Wind Phoenix would cut him off. "Of course you should believe her; she's your mother!" He ran back over to Volcan and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now come on; there is some time before I must report for training today -let us traverse over to the confectionary and indulge ourselves in some delightful delicacies!"

"...Do stop trying to talk like that, Pavan," Volcan bemoaned, but followed the Wind Phoenix regardless. "...As it happens, I do have some things to tell you about." He added as they walked together, turning their course back towards the east and following the street to the next block, as they made their way to the bakery.

All along the way, Pavan continued asking Volcan about his suspension being lifted, first and foremost question being if he had seen the Prince again since the first meeting, commenting that he seemed like a 'nice fellow'. Volcan told him, much to Pavan's disappointment, the suspension repeal was received via letter, but his interest was reinvigorated when Volcan mentioned the transfer to the Garden District, and the assignment he had just left behind.

"An ambassador from... Lycanthria, you called it?" Pavan asked. "I have never heard of the place."

"It is a city with a very... foreboding reputation," began Volcan. "It is said to be ruled by beings with the power to turn into primal beasts, thought I do not know how true that is. Lady Boleslav seemed... ordinary -at least as ordinary as a wolf could be, I suppose; I've never met one before."

"What did she look like?" Pavan asked.

"Like... well, a canine, of course," replied Volcan. "Black-grey fur, ink black scalp hair, a nicely sculpted form I suppose. But what really stood out about her were her eyes."

"She had nice eyes?" Pavan asked.

"She had very _unusual_eyes," replied Volcan. "They were the colour of a ruby; I've never seen anything like it. Those eyes alone stand out so much, I would be able to pick her out in a crowd." He narrowed his eyes. "But she also seemed to have excellent fortitude; even when we were attacked, she..."

"Attacked?" Pavan echoed. "By who?"

"We're still trying to determine it, but evidence points to a remnant of a conquered city, seeking vengeance," he said, and was about to mention the massacre on the Anapol's Memory before he caught himself, knowing that he should not tell Pavan about it -he was not yet a member of the Avolon Security Forces, and as much as Volcan liked him, Pavan was not known for his discretion...

As Volcan attempted to formulate an answer, his eyes drifted away from Pavan to something past him; his eyes fell upon the ruin of a house, situated tightly between a canal bridge gate, and a row of townhouses, but separate. He knew that location; he had not been to it for several nights, and it had cleaned up since then, but he knew it well, for the building that used to be there was the same store that had burned that fateful night.

However, it was who he saw standing near the building that caught his eye. Two avians, an adult female and a child, standing by the wreckage alone and in silence. He knew that there was only one pair that they could be.

Pavan, realizing Volcan was no longer listening to him, turned and followed his gaze, spotting the two females standing by the wreckage. Before he could make any inquiry, Volcan slowly stepped around the wind phoenix, crossing the street and approaching the two, and could only watch, wondering what his friend was doing.

Volcan's steps were slow and careful, as if worried seeing him might alarm the female. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say to her, but he felt a need to speak with her, feeling that he owed her... something.

The owl female turned sharply as she heard Volcan's steps, looking at him with some mild alarm, but didn't move. Her daughter followed her mother's gaze, looking up at Volcan with wide eyes; she did not seem to be afraid or mystified by him, seeing him as she might see any other adult passing by. Perhaps she didn't recognize him as her rescuer some nights ago, or perhaps it didn't matter to her.

Volcan nodded his head in greeting to the owl, holding his head in that lowered position before raising his head again to meet her gaze. "Ma'am," he said. "I... take it you know who I am." She answered him only with a nod. "I've come to offer my condolences, for the loss of your home."

The owl nodded back to him, turning her gaze back to the ruined house again. She remained silent for a while, as though trying to gather the courage to speak to him. "I appreciate your coming," she said, softly. "I am delighted that I had the chance to thank you, for saving our lives that night."

Volcan nodded. "It was my pleasure, ma'am," he returned, and was about to go into detail about the code of service in the Avolon Security Forces, when the young owlette suddenly left her mother's side, and threw herself against Volcan, wrapping her arms around his legs -as she barely reached his waist in height, tightly embracing him.

The phoenix stood stunned, looking down at the girl, and then at her mother, who was only smiling at him and her daughter. She pulled back from Volcan a moment later, looking at him with her large round eyes and smiling happily at him. "Thank you, sir," she said innocently, before stepping back and returning to her mother's side.

Volcan stood in silence for a time, stunned. He was so accustomed to having others shrink away from him; this was the first ever time that another seemed comfortable in his presence. It took him some time to process what had happened, but neither the mother or the daughter lost their smiles, and it was those smiles that would eventually allow him to summon the words he needed.

"You're welcome," he said, lowly.

With that, the adult owl grasped her daughter's hand, and the two began to depart. Volcan piped up again, to ask, "What will you do now? Do you have somewhere you can go?"

"I do," she replied. "My sister in Little Sparrow has offered to let us stay with her, until my home is rebuilt." She looked at the wrecked house once again. "It will take time, but everything will soon be back to normal."

Volcan nodded to her. "Best of luck."

"Thank you, sir MacAingeal," she returned.

With that, she was on her way; she led her daughter through the canal gate, crossing the bridge. Volcan and Pavan watched them until they passed beyond their sight in silence, and then Pavan nudged the larger phoenix, bearing a grin reminiscent of a gambler winning at the card table. "See that, my friend? Not everyone in this city hates you."

"She was grateful," Volcan returned, ready to brush it off.

"And maybe that is the answer, Volcan," returned Pavan, stepping to stand in front of him. "If you can't win the people's trust just by being you, then you earn it through your deeds. It may be a place to start."

There was wisdom in Pavan's words that Volcan could not refute; it was a very rare moment that the wind phoenix put aside his flamboyant nature and took a serious tone to anything. And he was right; Volcan had seen it there before him -the mother and daughter were not afraid of him. They had shown him genuine gratitude, and though the memory of the woman's angered uncle still lingered in Volcan's mind, knowing that at the very least, she approved of him...

Well, Pavan had set it best. It was a place to start.

Volcan looked at Pavan gratefully. "You're right, Pavan," he said. "Perhaps it is not as hopeless as I have been leading myself to believe."

"Never is, my friend. Now back to business; pastries are calling my name!" He piped urgently.

Volcan laughed, rolling his eyes and sighing as he followed his friend on through the streets, feeling more refreshed after meeting the mother and her daughter...

For once... he felt appreciated.

Meanwhile, back aboard the ship, Gregory was examining one of the bodies that lay against the wall, noting carefully the claw marks on his chest. They were deep, and horrendous to look at. The placement of the claws was perfect; the warrior had suffered a slash to his neck, deep into his chest, and across the top of his belly, all in a single, mighty swipe. Any one of the wounds he had suffered would have meant his end.

And that was what disturbed Gregory the most in his examination of these corpses. These vulpine seemed to be victims of a coordinated attack by an enemy that left no traces, left no witnesses, and yet the damage inflicted seemed to point to a wild beast seeking blood.

"I have seen wild beast attacks before," Vinson heard Beauregard commenting. "But on a ship? What else were these men transporting?" He began to pace, but stopped when he nearly stepped in a pool of blood. "We need to find the wild beast that did this; it is clearly dangerous and must be destroyed."

"I'm not entirely sure this was any ordinary beast, Captain," Vinson piped up. "Look at these wounds; the placement of each claw. They're... perfect even; no do not take my words out of context, but all the wounds on this sailor; he would have perished to any one of these. Three fatal wounds a single blow; it's as if the creature wanted to make certain nothing survived."

Beauregard rolled his eyes. "Vinson, you sound like a madman," he stated. "Look around you! What else could this be but some rabid animal?"

"A rabid animal, against twenty armed sailors?" Gregory asked plainly. "Not even a fully matured bear would walk away from something like this untouched. It would have been sliced to ribbons to by these desperate men, but this creature killed all of them, with nary a single stroke wasted -all these men died by a single strike, placed specifically to kill. Some of them were even wearing armour." He looked at Beauregard, who was slowly turning to Gregory bearing a look of horrified realization...

"Now tell me, Captain," he asked. "How many wild beast attacks also carry the patterns of a coordinated attack?"

END OF BOOK ONE

This new tale, a product of Tales by the Phoenix Quill

Characters by:

The Phoenix Quill

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NEXT BOOK:

Os-Nàdarra Prime Volume 2: Red Winter

As the investigation of the massacre aboard the Anapol's Memory continues, a stranger from across the seas has come to Avolon, warning them of the impending attack by a warlord who comes with an arctic chill that will cast an early winter across Avolon, while the city defenders must fight to protect the city stockpile from these ocean raiders of winter...