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The lights of the city were far behind the cloaked figure as they ventured into the wilderness beyond, vanishing into the shadows of the expanse of woodlands that stretched across more than half of Avolon's landmass. Up the mountainside the cloaked figure climbed, using the trees to hide their approach. The first incline was easy enough to navigate for them, and it was not long before they saw their destination ahead, rising atop a ridge.

Structures of stone long abandoned, overgrown with flora and trees as nature worked to reclaim what once was its own. These were the ancient ruins of Avolon, to this day one of the isle's greatest mysteries. The race that had built them, gone from Avolon for thousands of years, and faded into myth and tales. Most in Avolon thought little of the place, fewer dared venture near them, for they were protected, forbidden access by the king for some unknown reason. None dared test the extent to which the guards that watched this place would go to keep curious visitors out.

None but this one, who approached them openly and without fear.

They did not get thirty steps into the clearing before a sharp voice shouted "Halt!" Shadows fell from above, and the cloaked one heard the rasp of swords being drawn. "Stay where you are!"

Three guards, two carrying swords, formed a triangle around them. A crossbow was levelled, ready to bury its bolt in flesh if the stranger made any movement the archer did not like. But they remained perfectly still. One of them approached, and reached out to pull the hood back...

His hand flew off into the darkness as a sword slashed cleanly through his wrist. The guard dropped his saber and screamed in agony, clutching the stump that was his severed hand. The assailant then seized the guard by his shoulder and threw him into the path of the archer's shot as he pulled the tickler, releasing the bolt to bury into the wounded guard's back.

The third guard attacked. The assailant's curved sword came up and parried away the saber thrust, and the wielder reversed the parry with impossible speed, aiming for the guard's throat. But this guard was a veteran of many duels and would not be dispatched with a single attack. He leaned his head out of the way, saving himself, but did not see the assailant's foot as it came up and buried a hard boot into his groin. He doubled over in pain.

The assailant flew at the archer, not wanting to give them a chance for a second shot. The archer put up the crossbow in defense, angling the metal plate on the front of the lathe to meet the strike. Metal found metal, and the archer lunged to stab the assailant with the pointed bayonet of the crossbow. The assailant caught the spike with their free hand, swiping across the archer's stomach and opening a gaping wound through his silk armour. The archer fell, clutching his spilling innards.

The other guard was up by now, the point of his sword nearly finding the assailant's back, but the shadowy warrior turned to meet his attack. Steel rang against steel as the two fought, the Avolon guardsman put on the defensive by the aggressive, yet precise strikes of the clearly well-trained cloaked fighter. As his breaths became laboured, the assailant caught his blade in the hook of theirs, and with a sharp pull, ripped it from his hand. The guard lunged, grabbing the assailant by the sword and wrestling them for control of the blade.

Teeth flashed from under the hood. A half-broken canine was revealed, but the other, unbroken teeth, seemed to grow in size as the mouth snapped toward him and sank the many sharp teeth into his neck. He screeched in agony, trying to wrench away, but the jaws held fast, crushing his airway and filling his throat with blood. Desperate, he took his hands from the arm, grabbing the assailant by the throat with one. The jaws loosened as the hooded assailant gulped, and the guard managed to pull his head away, bits of flesh and feathers left dangling in the teeth.

He punched the assailant, reeling them, and grasped his backup weapon -a studded cudgel mainly for inducing compliance in captured criminals, but it was useful in a pinch, being light and easy to wield. He grasped it with both hands and made a desperate move to bludgeon his opponent. Up came the blade, catching the attack, and then came the dirk, appearing in the assailant's left hand and buried into the guard's chest.

The guard lost all feeling in his legs, sinking to his knees and dropping his club, hands going to the dirk as if to pull it out, but darkness fell across his eyes before he could make any such attempt. He fell to the ground, pulling off the knife and lay in the grass, defeated.

The assailant drew themselves up, looking between the three guards -owl-kin, each of them, gifted with night vision. The one that had lost his hand was still alive, trying to get to his feet and make for the ledge. The assailant made a dash for him, jumping and kicking him in the back to send him heavily onto his front, stealing his breath. He grasped feebly for the ledge, barely able to lift his only hand. He felt a foot press down on the back of his neck, followed by a stomp and a sickening crack as the assailant's heel snapped his neck.

All feeling left his limbs, and he lay there paralyzed and his body ablaze with pain. He could not even open his beak to scream in agony, only shudder uncontrollably.

The assailant appeared at the edge of his vision, staring at him from beneath the shadows of their cloak. They stared at him for a moment before, sheathing their sword and flipping the dagger to their main hand before sinking it into the owl's back, quickly ending his life. The assailant never broke eye constant until the owl expired...

After dragging the bodies into the ruins, concealing them from any further passersby on patrol, the assailant ventured deep into the ancient structure. A light shone from their breast, a hand reaching up to grasp a jade amulet that was now emitting a faint light. The amulet was a charm designed for two purposes. -the first was to react to areas of awash in powerful magic, and the reaction from the amulet was great indeed -a sure sign that the magic in this building was mighty indeed.

The second function of the item was to summon the one who had crafted it. This power, though, could only be used once, and so the assailant had to be certain of their findings before they could use it. Though there could be no doubt -the ancient structure was a nexus of powerful lay energies. It was a wonder that the magi of Avolon's Dandolo Tower were not here in droves to study it. But of course, it was declared off limits by the king, and not even the magi would disobey him.

Within one of the deeper chambers of the ruins, the hooded figures placed the amulet upon the stone floor and spoke in a hushed whisper. "Dalca," said the hoarse voice.

The jade amulet darkened as though filling with blood, adopting a red hue before it glowed with an eerie light to match the new colour. A black mist formed around it, prompting the assailant to back away from it as the mist grew, swirling about the amulet as though drawn to it before engulfing it utterly.

Then, the mist grew. It rose from its place, reaching almost to the ceiling before it stopped, and began to take shape. Taking a canid shape, the mist grew denser until the form was as black as ink, solidifying and gaining lighter hues and colour. A cloak of deep violet materialized from the inky darkness, fully encompassing the wearer, a mantle of gold and black steel formed upon the shoulders and collar.

The last to take shape was the head -vulpine in shape, with two long fangs jutting from the lip of their muzzle. Two ears twitched through a head of silvery scalp hair, gray fur grew over the face and ears, a white undertone beginning beneath the chin, and finally the eyes opened -eyes of deep crimson, contorted into a scowl of contempt as they found the hooded figure who had summoned them.

"I trust you have good cause to disturb me?" The fox asked.

"Yes, Lord Dalca," the assailant returned. "I have done as was asked of me. I have found the ideal location for the ritual. "

The fox turned away from the hooded figure to take in his surroundings, studying the chamber they were in with morbid curiosity. His long cloaked trailed behind him as he circled the room, humming in thought as he came to rest back where he had begun.

"You have chosen well, Alkaev," he said, nodding his approval. "The magic here is ancient, but mighty -more than enough to suit my needs."

"You mean the Tsar's needs," the cloaked figure warned.

The fox ignored the correction as he faced the figure again. "I trust there have been no complications?"

"Guards watch this place in the night. Some of them found me as I approached, but I dealt with them."

Dalca's eyes narrowed. "And would that altercation be the causing of that broken tooth I see regrowing in your mouth?" He asked pointedly.

The hooded wolf shook their head. "No... that was the work of your people." Dalca turned his head quizzically. "Pardon, your former people."

Dalca's eyes widened. "The Anapolians?" He asked. "There are survivors?"

"Were survivors," the figure returned as they pulled back their hood, revealing the male black wolf the hood had previously concealed. "They have also been dealt with."

Dalca's eyes narrowed. "All of them?"

"Is this concern I hear from you, Lord Dalca?" Vadim asked.

Vadim felt his feet leave the floor as Dalca made a grabbing motion with his hand. In a second, Vadim was nearly nose-to-nose with the fox. "Do not question my loyalty again, Alkaev," he warned. "I gave my people a chance to survive, they refused. My only concern is them exposing our operation before it is time." He flashed his long, impossibly thin and fragile looking canines as he growled, and repeated his inquiry. "Did any of them survive your attack?"

"I turned the ship into a floating slaughterhouse," Vadim promised, not losing his composure even with his feet hovering off the floor. "The only survivors are a handful of assassins that made an attempt on Ambassador Boleslav's life, and they live only because the Avolonians escorting us spared them. Rest assured, they speak neither Merchant's tongue nor that of Avolon, and there is no one to translate."

"Even so, the threat remains. It is only a matter of time before they begin to learn the Avolon tongue and warn the Avolonians," Dalca returned, pushing Vadim back before releasing him from the magical hold. "We will have to move forward with the plan sooner than anticipated."

"That is another reason I summoned you," Vadim informed. "The Avolonians recently suffered an attack from the Warlord of Ragnaross."

"Njall?" Dalca asked, his expression shifting the curiosity. "Interesting. How did he fare against them?"

"He has been driven out," answered Vadim. "The MacAingeal Patriarch stepped in, but not before Njall wiped out an entire guard regiment. Avolon has had to pull troops from the city to compensate for the breach in their defenses and continue to hunt stragglers to this day. The guard is depleted -seizing the city should be that much easier."

"I hardly call the clan of Fire Phoenixes 'easier', if they were to intervene."

"The lead agent does not believe that to be likely. MacAingeal's intervention may have been only to face his old enemy, not out of any concern for the Avolonians."

Dalca scoffed. "And our entire operation should hinge on this assumption?"

"The MacAingeal are loyal only to their own. That much, we know. The only exception may be the two living in Avolon now -an Ambassador, and her son, who serves with a guard regiment."

"Does this son pose any threat to us?" Dalca asked.

"He is a capable warrior for one so young," admitted Vadim. "I have seen him fight on two occasions -the second, he bested one of Njall's sons. But I have determined that was of luck. Njall's youngest did not see the boy for what he was and suffered the consequences. "

"And if you were to face him?"

"I would crush him beneath my heel," Vadim returned with confidence. "As I would have Njall's brat." He added with a venomous tone.

Dalca could not hide his smile, knowing there was more to that bold claim than the black wolf was letting on, but he did not pursue the issue. "Very well. Tell me everything of Avolon's defenders -we must prepare accordingly."

"Avolon's standing army is their guard force, divided into multiple regiments. Well-trained, each led by a captain, and equipped with light weapons, but each barracks has its own armory for larger engagement. The King's Guard are better equipped but protect only the upper-class and are fewer in number. Fewer yet, as they too suffered losses in Njall's attack.

"The city has a reserve army they call upon when needed, but who in the city serve among them is kept discreet. Their first division captain, Gregory Vinson, elevates to marshal during a battle, making him the highest in command next to the King's Guard commander and the King himself. Last is their royal navy -they have a sizeable fleet of ships and highly-trained sailors and marines. They may be our greatest challenge."

"They are of no concern. Our own navy will not be taking part in this fight -so long as it is not necessary," Dalca stated. "Even with our superior numbers we would waste many a day besieging Avolon's walls, and the Alpha Council has no patience for an extended siege -they hunger for battle now. The Armada is ordered only to blockade the city and make sure no one gets out."

This caught Vadim off guard. He had thought the entire Lycanthrian armada to be lingering in striking distance of Avolon by now, ready to lay siege to the walls upon receiving Dalca's order, but now to find out that the Alpha Council had no intention of using them at all...

"Then... how do we attack the city?" Vadim asked.

Dalca, as if amused by Vadim's confusion, reared back his head and laughed bitterly, sending a creeping cold up the wolf's back at the malice behind the chortling fox's voice.

"You are as simple of mind as the rest of those blood-thirsting Alpha's, Alkaev. No mind for strategy, which is why _I_was put in command, for might and numbers alone will not take Avolon," he turned from Vadim then, and indicated the ruins around them. "Why do you think you were instructed to find this place -a location rich in magical energy, but so removed from the main body of the city?"

Vadim watched as Dalca brushed aside the folds of his cloak, revealing the exquisite garb he wore beneath, tailored for one of high status and etiquette, with a closed top held shut by gold buttons, and black leggings that fit snugly to the wearer and matched his movements when he walked. His hands, covered by purple velvet gloves to match his cloak, were held out wide as the room began to shimmer, like heat waves off a hot stove in a cold room.

"The siege of Avolon does not begin outside her walls," stated Dalca. "It begins within them." A glow of sickly green appeared around his hands as he moved them in a circle, speaking in ancient dialect as an archway of green light appeared over him, expanding until two long supports reached down to the floor, forming the shape of a castle archway and solidifying into featureless gray stone. The gap between became filled with an incandescent light that Vadim had to shield his eyes from as it flared to life.

"By my command," the sorcerous fox declared from behind the wall of light. "The Siege of Avolon will commence on the following dusk. While I stabilize this portal, Alkaev, you will take word to the lead agent that the attack is imminent. Make sure all of you who arrived before will play their part."

Vadim, momentarily stunned by the fox's display of power, pulled himself from his entranced state and gave a low, cordial bow to the powerful Lord Dalca. "We will do as we were instructed," he said as he replaced his hood upon his head and turned to leave the ruins as the light behind him shone brighter still.

For a moment, he was sure that he even heard marching boots filling the chamber as he stepped out...

~~~~~

"You foolish boy!" King Christopher bellowed at his son with such volume, it seemed the whole palace might hear him. "What madness drove you to go to the island while it was under attack?!"

Avogadro was aghast, having never seen his father so angry before even in his more troublesome days when the prince was a child. He looked to his mother, seated nearby on her throne watching the exchange. He had hoped she might support him, or make some effort to quell his father's rage, but the queen offered no words in her son's defense.

"Father, we were under threat by a powerful enemy! For the King's Guard to sit by and do nothing was unthinkable -I did what I thought would turn the balance in our favour!"

"By throwing yourself into danger?" Christopher demanded. "Both you and Ambassador Boleslav could have been killed!"

"You cannot cast blame on me for the ambassador -she was there already!" Avogadro retorted defensively. "I stayed to defend her, and our people!"

Christopher shook his head angrily. "That is the duty of the Captains, not you! Never under any circumstances should a prince be in a warzone!"

"It never stopped Kuiper, did it? He led our people from the front in the last great war!" Avogadro retorted.

"You are not Kuiper! And need I remind you he died from a festering gunshot wound after the final battle?" Christopher retorted. "In front of hundreds of people, I might add! The entire city was thrown into chaos when he collapsed!"

"He understood the risks, as do I!"

"But you don't!" Christopher bellowed. "You do not grasp the risk not only to yourself, but to Avolon itself! And as if your actions could not be any less foolish, you let Lord MacAingeal and his sons and daughters into the city!"

"He was here to stop Njall -you should be grateful for that! A whole regiment perished to that ice phoenix, and more would have if Lord MacAingeal had not stepped in!"

"Soldiers die, Avogadro -they know that risk the moment they enlist!" Christopher retorted dismissively. "If the battle had moved into the city proper, the devastation that MacAingeal would have wrought could cost far more lives than his aid could ever have saved!"

Avogadro looked at his father as though he had spoken blasphemy. "That is your reason? You fear him more than an ancient ice phoenix whose very rise to status was war, bloodshed and murder?! They are not our enemies anymore, and in that battle they were our allies -who says they cannot be so again?"

"We do not know how much of Njall's tale is true," Christopher returned.

"Then you now call Ambassador MacAingeal a liar? What about how he changed the very weather with his-!"

"Enough!" Christopher interjected. "You will not change the subject -this discussion is about your actions! By making it seem like we needed MacAingeal's help, you make us look weak! Not to mention throwing yourself into danger -what would happen to the city -your city, if you had died, leaving the throne empty?!"

The Prince scoffed. "You planned for _that_contingency long ago! Ever since the accident in the ruins, you've had a plan! My sister died that day because of you!"

Christopher's eyes flared with anger. "You dare?!" Christopher demanded, his fury mounting to such heights that even the queen, well out of his path, flinched fearfully. "Who are you to judge me, when it was you who took her to the ruins?!"

"Yet you did not even grieve as she was taken away! You discarded her, all for the sake of petty politics!"

Lightning coursed across Avogadro's face as his father's heavy hand swung out and slammed into his cheek, sending the prince sprawling into a column. The queen rose from her seat, starting towards her son, but stopping as Avogadro picked himself up, holding his cheek where his father had struck him. Christopher stared back at him, bearing a look of both anger and hurt, stung by his son's words.

"I loved your sister, Avogadro. Not a day goes by I do not think of her, wishing to bring her back!" Christopher stated firmly.

"If that were true you would never have lied to the people about the accident," the prince returned calmly, but bitterly.

Without another word, Avogadro turned on his heel and marched quickly for the door, ignoring his father as he called out his name. He threw open the doors with all of the strength he could muster, letting them slam into the walls as he made a left turn and disappeared from view.

Christopher put a hand to his eyes, rubbing them with his index finger and thumb. He felt his wife lean against and embrace him comfortingly. "Dear Annabelle, did I do right?" He asked his wife.

"You did as any father would," she returned. "One day, he will understand that."

Christopher sighed. "I only hope that day comes soon. We will not always be here to guide him," the king said. "Every day, I grow older. Kingship is always dangerous -there is always someone who wants what you have, and I fear Avogadro is too trusting to be ready for that burden. He is brave, intelligent -traits a father can be proud of, but he is too curious, too forgiving."

The queen sighed sadly, leaning against her husband. Christopher raised a hand to grasp his wife's resting against his chest, standing in silence for a long moment before freeing himself from her embrace and turning to her slowly. "Come... let us retire to our chambers. It has been a long day."

Annabelle nodded in agreement, looping her arm through her Christopher's as they left the great hall and stepped out to the corridor. Two guards appeared to escort them, walking at their sides as they made their way to the private chambers.

They passed Avogadro's room on the way to theirs, and for a moment, the king considered entering the room to console with his son. But at the tug of his arm from his wife and a shake of her head, he understood that it was too soon, and continued down the corridor. The guards reached the door first, taking position on either side of the ornate double-doors as the king pushed them open, holding one open for his wife before closing them.

They changed out of their day clothes, the king leaning his sword against the wall by his bedside table before stripping off his regal attire and putting on a night robe, as did his wife. They settled into bed, lighting candles to read by until they were both ready to fall asleep, blowing out the candles and slipping beneath the covers to rest.

Sometime in the night, the king stirred. He was not sure why, but a sense of unease hung over him. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling persisted. He felt an urgency filling him, and his eyes drifted to the sword resting against the wall beside the table, an itch in his hand as if telling him to grab it.

Eventually, he had to sit up, hoping to set his mind at ease so he could return to his rest by proving to himself there was nothing to be worried about.

But he knew immediately that something was wrong. The balcony door was open, though it had been locked when he and Annabelle, still sleeping soundly by his side, had retired, and there was no way to open it from the outside. Looking at it, he saw the lock had been lifted somehow, freeing the door and allowing it to be opened, and through the open balcony door he saw what seemed to be a metal hook hanging from the railing outside.

Alarmed, he looked about the room, and soon he saw them -a figure by the door to the bedroom, cloaked in darkness, sliding the locking bolt into place -he could hear the brass bolt grinding as it was moved.

Christopher acted immediately "_Guards!"_He yelled at the top of his lungs, startling the intruder and lunging out of bed and reaching for his sword.

Annabelle sat up with a start, her eyes finding the intruder quickly as Christopher, sword in hand, attacked. His gold inlaid rapier flashed in the streaming moonlight pouring in through the open balcony door as he angled it for a thrust at the intruder. The stranger darted out of the way, drawing a curved sword from beneath their cloak.

Steel rang as the two blades met. The door creaked as someone attempted to open it, but the sliding bolt held it shut. Wood splinted as the guards outside slammed into the door again and again, trying to force it open and assist their king.

Annabelle lunged for the side table on her side, pulling open the drawer to reveal the pistol inside, along with several bullet cartridges. She pulled out the gun, hastening to load the first round. Christopher was being hard-pressed by the attacker -though trained in dueling in his youth, he had not practiced often over his years as king, his skills rusted and not up to par with this clearly trained killer.

Then, as Annabelle watched in horror, the assassin thrust their sword into his, twisting their blades together, before a dagger appeared in their other hand. Christopher grunted, beak open in shock as the dagger buried itself into his chest. Annabelle had finished loading the gun in time to see her husband fall, her expression mortified as her beloved Christopher collapsed, lifeless, to the floor.

In a fit of rage, she aimed the gun. "_Monster!"_She screamed and fired.

Avogadro snapped awake as he heard the gunshot, sitting up in bed so abruptly, he hurled his covers off him, looking about the room in near-panic as he tried to get his bearings. He heard shouting in the hall, a door being broken down, and then more shouting.

The door to his room flew open. Owlfred, dressed in his night clothes, stumbled into the room as more shadows passed behind him. "My Prince! Are you alright?" He asked, frantic.

"I am fine, but what is happening out there?!" Avogadro demanded, practically leaping out of bed and running for the door.

Owlfred stepped into his path, but the prince pushed him aside and pulled open the door, stepping out to see King's Guard running past. "You there!" He called.

The nearest guard turned on him. "Your majesty! For your own safety, please stay in your room!" He ordered the prince before turning and continuing up the hall, halberd in hand.

"But my parents-!" Avogadro started to say but lost his voice as he heard the sound that sent his heart leaping into his throat and silencing him.

A roar, a mixture of a shriek, and the howl of a very large canid filled the corridor. Guards stopped dead in their tracks. Avogadro felt his feathers standing on end, an unearthly chill crawling up his back. He looked down the hall as he heard a scream -not the roar again, but a more anthropian scream, and saw a body hurled out of his parent's room, hitting the opposite wall with such force that he heard a snap, his stomach churning with illness at the sound.

Avogadro shut the door, turning to Owlfred. "What is happening?!" He demanded.

"I do not know, Mein herr!" Owlfred returned.

He heard the fighting outside. Guards crying both in agony and in fury as they fought to destroy whatever beast had found its way into the palace. His heart was thundering in his chest, his entire body was shaking. Were his parents alive? Would the guard be in time to save them? From the sounds he heard, the fight was not in their favour.

Owlfred had come to a similar conclusion. Thinking quickly, he grasped Avogadro's wrist, pulling him away from the door and locking it with the bolt. "We must leave!" He exclaimed.

"Leave?!" Avogadro echoed incredulously. "But my parents-!"

"This is what they would have you do!" Owlfred interjected. "For your own safety, my prince, we must go! Whatever creature is down there will not find us in the night sky!"

"How do you know that?"

"I do not! But if we stay here it may well get you as well!" He practically dragged Avogadro towards the balcony, ignoring his protests as he pushed open the ornate double doors and stepped out into the night.

"Owlfred, we cannot...!"

"We must! This is what your father would order you to do -to flee and survive! If ever there was a time to heed him, this would be it!" Owlfred argued. "Please, my prince, fly!"

Avogadro knew he was right, but still he hesitated. He could hear the fighting going on from the balcony over, through the open door leading to his parent's bedroom. The guards were attacking the beast, but by the agonized screams he heard, they were not faring well. He could hear sickening sounds that he did not want to imagine the source of, mixed with a bestial snarling.

Then, the sounds stopped. Avogadro's heart skipped a beat. Then came the roar again, louder this time, his wings rigid and hands trembling as they held the rail, the shaking stopping only when the roaring stopped.

He could not get off that balcony quick enough. Over the railing he plunged, unfurling his wings -not even caring that he was wearing only trousers and nothing else as the wind whipped around him. He glided for a moment before feverishly beating his wings to gain altitude. Owlfred was immediately behind him, his night robe billowing out behind him, ballooning as air filled it from his collar and threatened to tear him off balance. He folded his arms across his chest and caught up to Avogadro, and neither one looked back, not even as they heard Avogadro's door being broken through, and the creature letting out a third roar. One filled with anguish as its prey escaped into the night.

~~~~~

Volcan marched at the head of the group as they approached the farm, his halberd held across both hands as he searched the area for any sign of the Ragnarosians, feet squishing in the mud below, brought by the recently melted snow.

For days now, the young phoenix had sought the Ragnarosians. After being abandoned by their leader, and having their escape cut off by the Avolon forces, the invaders had attempted to regroup, only to be broken again by the Avolonians guard forces. Scattered and disorganized, Volcan had been charged with leading a patrol across the island, searching for the stragglers -to capture, if possible, or eliminate if necessary. They would pay for their crimes, one way or another.

This farm that his troupe approached, abandoned when the owners and farmhands had been forced to flee, was now a hiding spot to a group of stragglers -tracked to this location by the Avolon Scout Regiment. Volcan shifted his eyes to the infrared spectrum, searching for the warm bodies of their prey.

He spotted movement from the farmhouse. "There you are," he said, and looked back at the collective of guards, all ranked Private, following him. "In the farmhouse. Spread out, and cover all exits," he directed as he led the way toward the house, halberd lowered in preparation if anyone were to charge him.

The guards complied, forming their own groups while two remained with the Corporal as Volcan stuck his halberd into the ground, opting instead for his sword with its better close-range ability. He adjusted his wings as he held his blade point-forward with one hand, keeping his other free for the door as he slowly approached it, reaching for the handle.

It swung open and he saw a glint of iron lancing at him. He leapt back and pivoted away before he even fully saw the male feline behind the point of the spear as they charged out at him with a spear leading their reckless rush. The cat ran past, and the guards behind Volcan were upon him immediately. Two more rushed out, forcing Volcan to back off the patio, holding his sword with both hands as they chose to go for him. They both wielded a short war axe and a broad battle shield, rimmed with iron banding and a domed iron boss in the middle.

Volcan backed up, jabbing his sword-point forward in a feint whenever one of the wolves tried to charge or circle him, not wanting to let himself be flanked. One of the wolves rushed him, shield leading. He jumped aside, letting the wolf blunder past, and then slashed at his exposed side. The sword hit his back, the chain armour held against the blade's edge, but the force of the hit still sent the wolf staggering.

The other wolf, also in chainmail, lunged at Volcan, swinging his shield backhanded to knock aside the phoenix's blade to open his guard. Volcan put up his arm and blocked the axe blade as it was swung towards his face, the impact jarring his arm, but sparing him a mortal wound. Volcan brought up his sword overhand and rammed the pommel into the wolf's forehead, banging against his helmet. The wolf was dazed for only a second, but it was long enough for Volcan to uppercut his jaw with his left fist. The wolf stared, stupidly, before he toppled over like a felled tree.

The Phoenix turned, expecting the other wolf to lunge at him, but they engaged by another guardsman, who seemed to be struggling to maneuver his way through the wolf's defenses, unable to bypass the shield while dodging the axe. He slashed at the wolf's weapon arm, but the edge of his saber could not cut through the chainmail sleeve.

Volcan stepped in as he saw the guard thrown onto his back. He angled his sword for a thrust, gripping the center of the blade with his hand. He should have been wearing a glove before attempting half-swording, but so long as he kept a firm hold and didn't let his hand slip, he would not require one, and he could not afford to miss.

He lunged, putting all his weight behind that point and drove it into the wolf's back. The chainmail failed to stop it, the sword point pierced into flesh, and the wolf threw back his head and howled in pain. He collapsed, nearly falling on the guard he had been engaged with as he dropped dead to the wet ground.

Volcan turned to the guard who had helped him, reaching a hand out to them. The young hawk looked at the hand reproachfully, but eventually accepted, and caught his breath as the phoenix hoisted him to his feet with seemingly no effort in lifting him, like he were as light as a hatchling.

"Are you alright?" Volcan asked.

"Y-yes, Corporal," he confirmed, nodding.

Volcan turned to study the scene. The cat with the spear was down, overwhelmed by two opponents. The wolf he had knocked out was still unconscious, weapons lying forgotten at his sides. Volcan could hear fighting ongoing behind the house, but noted that it was quieting rather quickly. "You two," he gestured to the guards over the fallen cat. "Get in the house and secure it. We'll detain these stragglers. Stay together in there -do not split up."

"Yes, Corporal!" The two guards replied, breaking for the farmhouse to search it.

Locking the wolf's arms behind his back with shackles, Volcan dragged him over to his feline companion -who was indeed still alive, and similarly bound by the guard before. Volcan looked toward the other wolf, wishing he'd spared him as well, but he had done as was needed to defend one of his fellow guards.

The stragglers were quick to fall to the greater numbers of the Avolonians. Those few that remained fought to their last, and of the six found in the house, only the two Volcan's group had found remained.

Stretchers were built to carry the wounded guards, while Volcan carried the two captives himself, unceremoniously hung over his shoulders like wild game he had caught in the forest. The patrol made its way west, back to the harbour.

The harbour jailhouse was nearly to capacity before the addition of the two Ragnarosian marauders Volcan tossed into the cell alongside the others, stripped of their armour and any other weapons they'd had on them. He slammed the cell shut before any could try for the door hoping to escape or have one last go at the phoenix.

Volcan turned to the nearest guard. "How many is that now?"

"With the two you just brought, that will be fifty-six, Corporal," the guard replied.

"Excellent," the phoenix said with an approving nod. "I'll prepare the next patrol then."

The guard saluted as Volcan turned and stepped out of the jailhouse, retrieving his halberd and heading to rejoin his troupe. Volcan felt a momentary relief at the lack of frightful stares he was receiving that day. With the Ragnarosians present and having caused such havoc recently, it seemed that most were more focused on directing their spite towards them instead of him. It didn't make him feel better, not by any means, but he was thankful that he was not the recipient of the hatred for that time.

Still, he chuckled. "When Captain Vinson said I'd be leading a patrol..." he muttered, but didn't finish the aloud thought.

"Officer on location!" A guard announced, snapping him to attention. He turned, presenting his weapon in an upright fashion and saluting before he even saw who it was.

Lieutenant Alden stepped into view, motioning for the guards to be at ease, and made his way over to Volcan as his troops led three more prisoners toward the jailhouse. "Corporal," he greeted.

"Lieutenant. How goes the hunt?"

"Quite well," replied the red kite. "Three more for the count."

"That makes fifty-nine for this batch," Volcan remarked.

"Southeastern guardhouse reports they have thirty-seven in custody themselves. They had to commandeer a barn to hold them all. North guardhouse reports they have twenty-one more. A party of thirty more surrendered, and we allowed them to return to their ships -though they are not yet allowed to leave. Njall arrived with a force of just over a thousand, their casualties hitting the seven hundreds, and that's not counting the ones who we've had to kill tracking them down."

"Can't be many left, then," stated Volcan. "But what do we do with them all?"

"There will be negotiations made with the leaders. They will be given the chance to leave -so long as they agree to a ten-year peace treaty," answered Alden.

Volcan was skeptical. "You think someone like Njall will honour such an agreement?"

"I suspect he will have much to worry about when these men return to report his abandonment of them," returned Alden, with little care in his voice. "Ragnaross could be facing a power struggle."

"Can we really let that happen? Couldn't we intervene in some way -force Njall to abdicate?"

"It is their problem, Corporal. Not ours. Avolon protects her friends, but Ragnaross is not among them. The king will not get involved."

Volcan nodded in understanding, not sure he felt the same way, but knew Alden was correct. Avolon owed nothing to Ragnaross -this raid alone was an act of war, and the Ragnarosians were fortunate that King Christopher was not going to retaliate -his forces had already proven to be a match for those of Njall. A war would be disastrous for both sides, but worse for the cold northern city.

"Now, if you are feeling up to it," Alden began, "Scout-Captain Northcott sent me a lead on another group -a big one this time." He smiled at the phoenix. "What do you say to joining our forces together to hunt them down?"

Volcan beamed at the offer, his chest swelling with pride to receive such an invitation from his commanding officer. "It would be a pleasure, Lieu-"

"Lieutenant Alden! Corporal MacAingeal!"

The two avians turned in search of the voice, and saw a scout descending toward them, folding his wings as he landed and striding the last two steps to them, stopping to salute. "Urgent message from Captain Vinson. He requires you both back at first division barracks!"

"Has something happened?" Alden asked.

"He did not say. He requested only that you both come immediately," the scout answered. "He wanted me to stress it was urgent."

Alden and Volcan shared a concerned look, wondering what could be so urgent that their Captain would need both of them. But such an order did not leave much time for debate. Alden gave standing orders to his troops, directing them to another officer for assignment before joining Volcan as they cleared the buildings for enough takeoff space.

"What do you think it is, Lieutenant?" Volcan asked.

"I don't know, Corporal. But Captain Vinson would not summon us if it was not important. Let us make haste," he unfurled his wings, breaking into a run as he flapped and taking flight.

Volcan followed immediately, making two great leaps before his wings caught enough air to gain lift, following Alden over the Merchant's Channel back to the city.

They landed outside of the barracks and made immediately for the front door. They stepped through to find it... quiet. This time of the day, the barracks should have been abuzz with activity, with the receptionist taking reports from patrols and guards arriving or leaving their shift. But this was not the case.

The barracks was virtually empty, with only the receptionist to be found, at her usual place at the front counter. But even the young Osprey female looked like she was preparing to leave, stowing her paperwork into a drawer and locking it with a key.

"What is going on here?" Alden asked the female, who jumped slightly as he spoke up -apparently having not heard them. "Where is everybody?"

Collecting herself, she answered promptly. "Captain Vinson sent all of the staff home for the day and dispatched all guards to join the patrols around the city," the receptionist explained. "I was just on my way out."

"V-very well," Alden returned, confused. He stepped aside to let her pass. "Good day, miss."

"Good day, Lieutenant," the receptionist replied sweetly, passing him and giving Volcan more room as she rounded him, eyeing him warily before she walked down the street.

Volcan felt a sting. He thought at least the staff would be used to having him around by now. But he shook the thought from his head, regarding Alden with a puzzled expression. "He calls us to the barracks, and sends everyone else away?"

"I do not understand either," admitted Alden. "Come, quickly."

They half-ran down the corridor towards the captain's office, arriving to find that he was not alone. Two other avians -an owl wearing a nightshirt, and a raven with an unusual crown of red-highlighted feathers cresting his brow -not typical for his species- wrapped in a blanket, sat in the corner.

"Captain, where is everybody -why have-" Alden trailed off, his eyes finding the middle-aged owl and feeling a pang of recognition at the sight of him. "Wait... I know you... You're the aide to the King!"

The owl bowed his head. "Owlfred Von Barnstable," he introduced himself cordially to the kite.

'Is that really his name?' Volcan thought privately, having to force himself not to snicker.

Alden turned to the young raven sitting beside the owl. "Then you are..." he began, but Volcan, having met this boy once already, in his place.

"Prince Avogadro?" The Phoenix asked in surprise.

The two guards were about to fall to one knee, to bow before the heir apparent himself, when the captain spoke up sharply. "Both of you, keep your voices down!" He hissed, stopping them cold. "Is there anyone left in the building?"

"The receptionist just stepped out," Alden answered as Volcan stepped back out into the corridor, doing a hasty sweep of the halls in search of any lingering staff members.

Finding no one, the phoenix returned. "The building is clear," he said.

"Come in and shut the door," Gregory urged.

They did so, closing and locking the office door and turning to study the guests, who studied them in return -mostly Volcan. This was the second time in the same month that Avogadro had seen the phoenix up close, his eyes carrying the same fascinated curiosity they had when they had met at the airfield, until he looked away from him after feeling like he had stared for too long.

Owlfred was less curious and more intimidated -not just by having a MacAingeal in the room, but one twice as large as anyone else currently present. The phoenix utterly dwarfed the old owl and the young prince, and still outsized the two officers as well.

"Captain. I am at a loss for words," Alden stated, bringing all eyes to Gregory. "What are the Prince and the royal family's aide doing here?"

'Half-dressed and ragged looking at that,' Volcan added in thought, noticing the unkempt appearance of the raven, his tired eyes and distant look. Volcan knew that something was very wrong, even before the captain spoke up again.

"What I am about to tell you two must not be said to anyone else," said Gregory. "I want you both to vow never to speak of it, to anyone."

"Of course, captain. You have my word," Alden stated without question.

"And mine. I will tell no one about this," added Volcan, saluting the hawk.

Gregory breathed a sigh, and began his explanation, getting straight to the point. "Last night, the palace was attacked. A creature of some sort entered the palace, and attacked the king and queen," he paused as Avogadro flinched, but continued. "According to our visitors, the creature killed an entire score of the King's Guard before they fled the palace."

The blood drained from Alden's face -if not for his rust-coloured feathers, he would be as white as a swan, his terror showing clearly in his eyes. Volcan felt an unearthly chill creeping up his back, unable to hide his own shock at the explanation. The King's Guard, the elite protectors of the highborn, unable to slay a single creature intruding in the palace?

Volcan was especially perturbed at this thought, for it was all too familiar to him. He found himself recounting the day he had boarded the Anapol's Memory, to find it drowning in the blood of the men that had crewed it, slaughtered to the last, all signs pointing to the culprit being a wild animal. Except Volcan had reason to believe it had not been a beast, but the work of the Lycanthrian bodyguard to the Lycanthrian Ambassader, Vadim Alkaev.

Mere days ago, Volcan had been presented with a broken tooth found aboard the ship, and not long after he had seen Vadim was missing a tooth -one of the right shape to match the fang that had been found on the ship, leading him to suspect that somehow the personal protector of Ambassader Boleslav had been the culprit. He had hoped to hear from Gregory about this soon after telling him of it, though the hawk had never contacted him. Now, it seemed, the devil had struck again.

"I awoke to a gunshot, in the middle of the night," Avogadro spoke up. "It came from my parent's room. I heard the guards shouting, running to the room. Then there was this... this..." he shuddered.

"This scream... like a howl and the voice of a person, shrieking in unison," Owlfred went on for the prince. "It was utterly bone-chilling."

"I was out in the hallway when the scream came," Avogadro went on. I saw the guards -scores of them, running into my parent's room. I saw one be thrown into the wall, as easily as I might throw a child's doll," he shuddered again. "It was horrifying."

Volcan looked at Gregory squarely. "It had to be Vadim!" He stated.

"Volcan..." Gregory began.

"It couldn't be anyone else!" The phoenix blurted. "We already know it was him that attacked the Anapol's Memory!"

"We know no such thing," stated Gregory, glowering. "And you were not supposed to mention that, either."

Volcan froze, realizing that he had revealed a sensitive case to two others who did not know of it -not moments after vowing to keep another one secret. He clenched his eyes, cursing under his breath. "I'm sorry, captain," he said, ashamed.

"We know of the attack in the city on Ambassador Boleslav, and on that ship," the Prince spoke up, earning surprised looks from the three guards. "My father makes a point to always know what is happening in his kingdom, as do I."

Gregory rolled his eyes. "The Secret Service... of course." He said, disgruntled. "The King's eyes and ears."

"We did not know Vadim Akaev was a suspect though," Avogadro went on.

Volcan looked at Gregory as if for consent. Gregory caught Alden's look, seeing the kite was also curious to hear this testimony. Letting out a sigh, Gregory waved a hand to Volcan. "Go on."

Volcan nodded, and promptly explained. "After I fought that son of Njall, I could see Vadim standing over me as I collapsed."

"The ambassador asked him to carry you," Avogadro piped in, filling the blank.

"His helmet was knocked off during the fight. I saw into his mouth before I lost consciousness," Volcan went on. "He was missing a tooth -his right canine. The day before that, a guard turned in a tooth he found on the ship that was attacked. It was of canid origin, and it was a fang -a canine, like the one he was missing."

"Indeed, Vadim did lose a tooth," Gregory stated. "_Half_of one."

"What?" Volcan asked, shocked.

"I approached Vadim after you told me of it," explained Gregory. "His right canine is indeed broken, but only half, and Ambassador Boleslav claimed it was a wound suffered in a battle."

"But Vadim never took a hit to the face!" Volcan protested.

"I said a battle, not that battle," Gregory corrected. "Furthermore, the tooth we found was whole -it could not belong to him."

"T-Then maybe the tooth was growing back!" Volcan offered.

Alden groaned in exasperation as though he were trying to explain something to a child as he began to speak. "Corporal, teeth are bones. They might mend, but they cannot grow back," he stated.

"And the fang that was found was too big to be Vadim's -his mouth would never accommodate it, not unless he was ten feet fall," Gregory said with finality. "I'm sorry, Volcan, but I have to follow the evidence, and the evidence does not point to him."

Volcan sulked, his hopes dashed. He had been so certain Vadim had been the culprit, but now they were back where they had started.

"With that said," Gregory spoke up, earning a look from Volcan. "This attack at the palace sounds very much like that attack on the Anapol's Memory some time back."

"I thought the same, sir," said Volcan.

"Fortunately for us, I do not believe in coincidence," stated Gregory. "Much about that entire ordeal was strange -a creature of unknown origin, wiping out an entire ship shortly after an attempt was made on an Ambassador's life? And the ship is occupied by the same people who sought her death?" He shook his head. "The timing of that was much too precise to have been chance. Volcan may not be wrong that Vadim is involved -not ourculprit but involved nonetheless."

"What are you thinking, sir?" Alden pressed, curious.

"That we are dealing with a trained beast, not a wild one," replied Gregory. "Why else would a beast go after sailors, and those sailors specifically? More to the present point, how could it manage to get into the Palace without help from someone who already had a way in, someone like the Ambassador or her bodyguard?"

"Let us assume the Lycanthrians are behind this," began Alden. "To what end? Killing the Anapolians and attempting to murder the King? Such aggression is an invitation to open war."

"Perhaps that is exactly what they want," Volcan suggested. "Aren't the lycanthrians known for that?"

"We will not find the answer with speculation," Gregory said as he rose from his chair. "I must go see Commander Marius, and convince him to revoke the Lycanthrian's diplomatic immunity, so that we can detain and interrogate them." He looked at Avogadro. "I will need your help, your highness. Marius will not be open with me, but he will answer to you."

Avogadro looked up at him with some alarm, his long beak quaking with fear as he spoke. "You... you want me to return to the palace? After what just happened there?" He asked.. "I-I cannot! If that creature is still there..."

"I must agree," Owlfred added. "That beast could be loose inside the halls! If the guard have not eliminated it, it still poses a danger."

"A compromise, then," Gregory promptly reaffirmed. "We won't go directly to the palace, but we must see Commander Marius. Therefore, we'll go to the King's Guard barracks outside the castle walls -you will remain there, and I will go to retrieve him him. Would that be preferable?"

Avogadro hesitated to answer, but eventually he managed to reply. "Y-Yes... I... I can manage that."

With that, Gregory turned to Volcan. "See if we can find the Prince and Mister Barnstable some better attire in the locker room. Alden, find him a weapon in the armoury," Gregory instructed.

"Should we recall our men, sir?" Alden asked.

"Not yet. We'll wait until after we see Marius -we'll find out the fate of the creature and the Royal Family, and plan our next move from there," replied Gregory. "Hopefully then, we will get our answers."

"Understood," Alden replied compliantly, following Volcan out of the office as the phoenix made his way through the barracks, the red kite disappearing into the armoury while the phoenix continued down the corridor past the door Alden stepped through..

Owlfred turned to Gregory, a deep frown creasing his brow as he regarded him. "Captain, I am concerned about going so near to the palace. You will keep Avogadro safe, won't you."

"Of course," Gregory promised. "I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to protect him from harm."

Avogadro said nothing, his gaze falling back to the floor again, hands folded across his lap, lost in his own mind. Gregory knew these signs well -the signs of a traumatic experience, weighing heavily upon the one in the middle. In a single night, Avogadro's entire life had changed forever, with the walls of the palace that once made him feel so safe were breached, and his parents set upon by a horrendous creature. To make matters worse, Avogadro did not yet know the fate of his family.

Gregory, with the memory of the slaughter that had been the Anapol's Memory fresh in his mind, did not have the heart to tell the Prince about his own thoughts on the matter...

~~~~~

Volcan returned some time later with a pair of hooded Avolonian Academy uniforms he had found in the storage area of the locker room -left behind by fresh recruits from the academy who had joined First Division not long ago. Avogadro's was too large for him, forcing him to roll back the sleeves to free his hands. Adorning the scabbard belt of the sword Alden brought for him conformed the waist of the long, gray shirt to his body and gave him a thigh-length tunic. The sword, a slim commoner's blade, seemed to suit him.

Owlfred's uniform was also too large, though not as much as Avogadro's. Still, he did not look so deflated inside of it, but he promptly refused the sword offered to him by Alden, stepping away from it as though it might bite him and stating that he was only a servant.

Volcan and Alden both took spears and helmets for themselves, and together with Captain Vinson, formed a triangle around the Prince and his aide as they left the barracks. Avogadro and Owlfred pulled the hoods of their borrowed clothes over their heads, hiding the Prince's rather distinctive crown of red-tipped feathers. Nothing could be done to hide his wings, however, except fold them as tightly against his body as possible and hope nobody noticed the especially conspicuous red markings on the inside.

'And I thought I stood out in this city,' Volcan thought, amused, though promptly cooled as he remembered what they were doing.

They left Central Avolon after crossing a canal bridge leading north, passing the estate of Lord Endicott -by far the largest and most splendorous of all the homes in Eagle Heights, second only to the palace itself, ever looming on the horizon. Across a second bridge, they entered the more populated area, though the houses were still widespread and each one designed to the tastes of its owner. No two homes were alike, some built of architecture from one of Avolon's sister cities -the mountaintop kingdom of Albion, or the small but prosperous peninsula city-state of Atlas, but all spoke of the vast wealth of their owners.

A third and final canal bridge took them from Eagle Heights, and to the foot of Elizabeth's Ridge. Here the paved streets ended, the King's Road becoming lined on both sides with greenery that spread out as far as the eye could see. The structures, uniquely designed like those in the Eagle Heights, but spread even further apart and each serving a greater purpose.

To the northwest, rising as high as any of High Eyrie's great spires, was Dandolo Tower, the home of the Mage's Council of Avolon. To the east, the third building down, was the Great Victoria Library -Owlfred pointed it out to the Prince, hoping the sight of his favorite place of study might lift his spirits. But his efforts were in vain, for the Prince still held that distant look in his eyes, which only deepened as he stared up at the palace... his home, and the last place he wanted to be.

But that was not their immediate destination. They made a left, to the first building along the northern road. The barracks of the King's Guard, larger and built to match the beautiful estates around it. The structure was two stories tall, higher than any other guard barracks, and built of the same white marble as the stone that had built the palace. The tall double doors sat flanked by low-hanging tapestries bearing the purple cross of Avolon, centered by the symbol of the King's Guard -the golden wings and scepter emblazoned upon a red shield. Windows lined the upper floor, each one leading to a room where the guard's slept between shifts when not on leave at home.

Gregory eyed the barracks with mild trepidation. "There should be men guarding the entrance."

"Perhaps they are all at the palace," Owlfred offered.

"I don't think so," Alden spoke up. "Look up there."

He was pointing northwards, further up the road. In the distance, they saw a line of the King's Guard heading their way, moving at a brisk pace with their halberds and rifles shouldered as they marched. As they followed them, they saw a second column coming from the other direction, turning north-east up toward the palace while the first continued eastward. A third came out of the palace grounds, descending the hill before turning their course north, the way the first column had come from, which had since pass them and following the road that circumnavigated Elizabeth's ridge.

"The guards are everywhere," Volcan stated.

"Far more than standard patrol procedure. They are definitely looking for someone," Alden concurred. "Or some_thing_."

"Lieutenant," Gregory spoke up. "Take the Prince into the barracks. Corporal, you accompany them -let the Lieutenant handle the talking if there is to be any, but you guard the Prince -stay with him at all times. I will send for you three when I know the grounds are safe."

"Yes Captain," replied Alden.

"Aye, sir," returned Volcan.

"Mr. Barnstable, you will come with me," Gregory continued. "If Commander Marius sees you, I am hoping he will be more open to hearing us out and come back here with us."

"A-As you say," the owl returned, casting one last glance at Avogadro before he followed the captain toward the palace, only taking his eyes away after crossing the street and starting up the path toward the palace grounds.

"Let's get inside," Alden directed, shouldering his spear and reaching out with a free hand to open the door. He held it for Avogadro and Volcan, waiting until both were inside before following suite and shutting it behind him.

Volcan had expected a reception counter upon entering the barracks, but there was no such thing to be seen. The doors opened into a corridor, a long red carpet stretching from one end to the other, ending at the stairs that led up to the second floor and lined with doors along the left for the north hallway, and the right for the south, all of them on the inside half of the structure. Ahead sat second part of doors that, through the windows in them, Volcan could see lead into the training yard, currently vacant. The sheer number of doors to choose from left the two officers muddled, wondering where they were supposed to go.

"Marius' office is in the right section of the building, at the very back," Avogadro spoke up suddenly, earning a surprised look from the other two avians. He looked between them, not understanding why they were staring at him.

"How do you know where the office is?" Volcan asked.

"My father came down here sometimes when I was a boy -I would often be with him," the raven explained.

Following his directions, Volcan and Alden led the way up the corridor heading northward, following the carpeted floor all the way to the stairs, where they also found the corridor branched off to the left, reaching down another long stretch of hallway wider than the first. Instead of doors on only one side, now they lined both sides of the hallway, ending at the three-quarter mark to the end of the corridor, where they reached a third set of double doors.

The door was locked. Not unexpected, but disappointing as it seemed to leave them with only the option of remaining in the corridor, with nary a bench or chair to seat themselves on while they waited for the captains' return.

The Palace of High Eyrie was known by all in Avolon as the city's crown jewel, unrivalled in beauty not only for the white marble it was built from or the brass-topped towers at it's northwestern and southeastern ends, but the gardens that encircled it. When one passed under the stone arch of the gatehouse, they would find themselves in what might have been another place entirely, beyond the walls of Avolon.

The paved path on which Gregory and Owlfred walked split off in two directions on approach to the palace doors. The path encircled the palace like a pair of arms reaching out to embrace it and stretched all the way to the secondary gate and the rear entrance of the palace.

On either side of this path were exotic gardens, bearing flora from all the places that the long line of the Lo'Raven family had visited. From her own red and purple flowers used to make dyes, to a golden flower stalk that seemed to be a subspecies of monkshood, common in the mountain city of Albion, and to blue woad leaves common to the peninsula of the MacAingeal, traditionally used for painting their hands and beaks before a battle.

The guard were no less active here than Gregory had seen outside the palace grounds. There were patrols passing them every moment, each one giving more than a curious glance at him and Owlfred. It was strange to see a Security Captain outside of the lower areas of the city, so he couldn't blame them for the scrutiny.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gregory spotted something. He stopped, and turned to look at the ground behind one of the gardens. It was there he saw the blood, splattered about the stone pavement with visible cracks in the slates where something heavy had stricken them. Discarded feathers lay scattered about, some of which were matted with the blood prior to its drying. Owlfred, following his gaze, noticed the dried blood spatter and let out a disgusted grunt at the sight.

"Seems the creature struck here too," Owlfred asked, looking at Gregory as the hawk stepped closer to the blood spatter. "It must have killed the poor soul on its way in."

"Not quite," replied Gregory. "This blood pattern, plus the broken stones, indicates an impact of someone who fell from a tremendous height. The one who left this fell," he looked up, turning his head toward the palace and spotting a balcony, high above the grounds. "From up there."

Owlfred followed where Gregory was looking, and immediately wished he hadn't. The balcony where Gregory was looking was fouled by streaks of red flowing over the sides, defacing the beauty of High Eyrie with the clashing colour of dried blood. The railing had been shattered as if by some tremendous force, the remnants of a guard's tabard caught on the corner of the broken railing and hanging still from the handrail. Beyond it, the gold-trimmed, glass doors were askew on their hinges, their windows cracked or even shattered.

"My gods..." Owlfred said, nearly in a whimper.

"Owlfred... where does that balcony connect to?" Gregory asked.

"T-to... to the... th-the King's chamber," the owl returned with great effort as he forced the words out, head lowering as he felt his worst fears surfacing.

Gregory's brow knitted as his face soured, his gaze falling to the ground in a moment of silence. They stood there for what felt like moments, before Gregory moved over to the owl, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, before slowly walking around him, continuing toward the palace.

Owlfred took a moment to collect himself, holding the many emotions surging through him at that moment. They still had a job to do, he knew. "Mourning will wait," he said with finality as he hurried after the captain.

At the palace doors, four men stood guard, two halberds, two rifles distributed among them. They were utterly statuesque as the two approached, moving not a muscle until Gregory and Owlfred were no more than ten paces from them. Suddenly they seemed to snap to attention, giving a stomp of their feet and taking a single step forward as they levelled their weapons at the captain and Owlfred.

"No entry! By order of the King's Guard, you will turn around and leave immediately!" Shouted one of them.

"I am Captain Gregory Vinson of the Avolon Security Forces. I bring news for Commander Marius of the King's Guard," Gregory returned. "It concerns the heir apparent, Crown Prince Avogadro Lo'Raven, son of King Christopher and Queen Annabelle Lo'Raven." When he saw he had their attention, he continued. "I have with me the aide of his majesty the King -Owlfred Von Barnstable, to corroborate my claims."

At that, Owlfred pulled back his hood to reveal his face, to show to the guard that Gregory was telling them the truth. "I implore you men, let us pass. We must see Commander Marius at once."

The guards shared looks between each other, their expressions unreadable behind their helmets. For a while, no one spoke, their exchange held in silence until one of the halberdiers raised his polearm to a relaxed, upright position, reverting to a neutral posture.

"The Commander has ordered no one in or out of the Palace until further notice," he said. "However, I will find him for you, and bring him out to speak with you."

Gregory nodded, accepting the compromise. He imagined what waited for him beyond those doors was not pleasant, and a small part of him was glad he did not have to step inside.

The guard turned and went into the palace, while the other three reverting to their original statuesque postures, armaments resting over their shoulders.

Stepping away from the door, Gregory and Owlfred moved to a nearby bench beside one of the gardens, seating themselves as they waited for the Commander to make his appearance. As they waited, Owlfred's gaze continued to shift between the gardens around them and the balcony above, heartbroken by the marred beauty of what had once been to him a symbol of perfection and serenity. He wrung his hands before him, sniffing and blinking away a tear.

Gregory, ever diligent, studied the scene before him, looking for even the most minute of details that might help with solving this mind-bending investigation. He pondered the earlier discussion with his troops, with what he heard from Owlfred and the Prince, and of course back to the _Anapol's Memory._Somehow, the attack on that ship, or even the Anapolians themselves, was the key to this whole mystery.

Ambassador Asya Boleslav arrives in Avolon. Waiting for her are Anapolians warriors, staging an ambush on one of the canal bridges to box her in. She seemed to be the target herself, but why target a political ambassador? The most that would do is stall the negotiations between Lycanthrians and Avolon.

Of course, he had thought about all of this before. When questioned about it, Ambassador Boleslav had suggested it was an act of revenge. Anapol had been conquered by Lycanthria not long ago, the city razed, and the populace scattered. Vengeance certainly made sense, but to take it out on a diplomat?

Then there was Vadim Alkaev and his remarkable 'constitution', shrugging off wounds that Gregory had seen incapacitate other men. Volcan had pointed the finger at him to be the likely culprit for the massacre on the Memory, but the evidence did not point to him, yet that did not mean he was not involved. The 'beast' had appeared the same day the Lycanthrians had arrived, and Gregory had yet to lay eyes on the thing, yet it had attacked twice, and all witnesses to its appearance were slaughtered.

Someone did not want anyone else to know about the creature. That mean it had to have some affiliation -some handler, guiding and protecting it. Someone like that could certainly have helped it get into the palace. But how? And from where? Both doors were guarded, all hours of the night, oil lamp posts were spread out across the garden to provide light to the patrols.

Could it have already been inside the palace when it attacked? He would need Marius to find that answer.

Going back over to the bloodstains in the stone, he took a second look at the surrounding area. Stone fragments, both from the destroyed railing on the balcony, and the stone pavement fragmented by the body that had landed here -a King's Guard, he guessed, though even an armoured body would be hard-pressed to cause such damage to stone slates. Maybe a piece of the railing had done it? He didn't see a chunk large enough to suggest it.

As he rose to his feet again, he paused as he noticed something else in the stonework of the road. Looking closes, he found scratches -impressions in the stone, like someone had struck at them with a harvesting scythe or in some cases scraped its blade against the bricks.

Except, he found as he ran his hands over them. They were spread out too evenly. Spreading his fingers, he brought a talon to each incision in the stone of the first mark. His hand did not fit, nor were his nails big enough to cause such damage to solid stone, but it was clear to him that no tool or weapon made these, and they were part of a trail.

He was playing around with the idea of following the tracks when he heard a voice behind him. "Captain Vinson?" It was not Owlfred, though he was there when the hawk turned to face the newcomer.

A golden eagle in the armour of the King's Guard stood before him. His gold-brown feathers were neatly brushed and smooth, but his bright yellow eyes were hardened and studious of the captain as their gazes met. He stood a little taller than the captain, and seemed close to him in age, showing similar age lines around his eyes as Gregory, but also bore a scar running parallel to his beak -someone had clearly been aiming for his eye, but had fallen short. In addition to his armour, a violet cape hung from around his neck, held by a gold-plated brooch bearing the royal crest at the collar. He carried a helmet under one arm, and at his belt hung a sword not of Avolon make. The ivory-inlaid grip and the ornately shaped hilt were a trademark of blades from the city of Atlas, one of Avolon's allies, gifted to warriors of status in contests of valour and combat prowess. He saw the scabbard, bending in a gentle curve, and supposed it was either a scimitar or falchion, as it was too wide for a saber.

Gregory respectfully saluted the Commander, fist thumping against his chest before bowing his head. "Commander Marius," he said.

"My man says you have information about the Prince," he said, gesturing back to the now returned guard at the door, back at his post. "He is safe?" His tone betrayed the hopefulness he was trying to hide behind his stern demeanor, one of desperation that he tried to hold behind his mask of professional stoicism. His eyes did little to hide it either, staring unblinkingly at the hawk as he waited for an answer.

"He is," affirmed Gregory.

Marius' sigh of relief came as though he had been holding it in for hours, a hand resting over his eyes. "Thank goodness," he said, holding that posture until he took his hand from his eyes and looked at Gregory again. "Where is he? How did you find him -is he hurt?"

"He is fine," assured Gregory. "Mister Barnstable brought him to me last night, during the incident here." He gestured to the palace wall to his right. "He is unharmed. Shaken, and refused to come to the palace yet. He is at your barracks, under guard by my lieutenant and one of my corporals."

A second sigh of relief left Marius' scarred beak, and he nodded to the captain, and then to Owlfred. "You both have done the city a great service," he said. "And it does my own heart good to know Avogadro is safe."

Owlfred stepped forward at that moment. "Marius...," he asked hesitantly, "is the king...?"

Marius bowed his head, unable to meet the owl's gaze. Gregory knew that was answer enough. "A-And the queen?" He pressed, his voice breaking.

"I have failed in my duties as Commander of the King's Guard," Marius replied, lifting his gaze slowly. "A creature entered the palace last night, and somehow got into the King's chamber. When I arrived, I found their bodies mutilated. King Christopher had his sword in his hand -he tried to fight. The queen had his pistol, discharged, but she too fell. She never even had a chance to get out of the bed to run."

Gregory winced at the thought, feeling his stomach clench as images of what might have transpired went through his mind -none of which were pleasant. "That corroborates with what the Prince and Mr. Barnstable said -a gunshot is what awoke the Prince. That must have been fired by the queen, attempting to protect herself."

"After we heard the creature's howl, I ushered Avogadro out to his balcony. I told him to fly, and I followed suite," Owlfred added his piece.

"Why did you not bring him to my barracks?" Marius questioned.

"I was following Avogadro," Owlfred replied. "If I had to guess, he chose First Division Barracks due to its distance from the palace -I don't imagine he wanted to be within sprinting distance of it in case the creature escaped."

"On that topic," Gregory cut in, "did you manage to kill it?"

Marius scowled at that, fists clenching. "No. My men tell me it still lives," he replied, lifting his head and arm to point up to the balcony that lead to the King's room. "It escaped through there. Took Sergeant Torbwen, head of the night watch, with it."

"That explains the blood," Owlfred remarked with a gag.

"Only four of the twenty guards who were in the palace survived, and of the thirty patrolling the grounds outside, only nine perished -most of whom because the creature was already fleeing by the time they arrived on the scene."

"One creature killed over twenty guards?" Gregory asked in disbelief.

"So say my men, that it was only one," replied Marius, before adding, "and I believe them. As absurd as it seems, a single creature survived against vastly superior numbers and steel weapons, and still managed to get away. I have had my men scouring the ridge looking for it."

"How do you know it is still on the ridge?" Gregory asked.

"The gate guards at the canals and at the entrance leading out to the forest -besides the fact they are still alive, claim to have never seen nor heard anything pass them. Given that it was able to reach the King's chamber without help, I have not discarded the possibility it may have gone over the walls, hence I called on Scout-Captain Northcott to search the woods and report back anything his scouts might find. Just the same though, if it is still here, we will find it."

"If possible, Commander, I would like to inspect the crime scene," Gregory made his request. "This attack sounds exactly like one that my unit is currently investigating -the massacre of the trade ship Anapol's Memory, that took place before the Ragnarosian attack, because of which the trail has gone cold. This might be the best way to get it back."

Marius studied him for a moment before answering. "I fear that is above your station, Captain," he said. "Access to the palace is restricted only to those with invitation. With that said," he added quickly, "though it pains me to admit it, your investigative skills far exceed my own. I know well of your reputation, Captain Vinson, City Marshal, and how you reached your station." He looked away, deliberating, before he continued. "We will go see the Prince first. If he is willing to let you into the Palace, then you will have my blessing as well."

"Agreed," returned Gregory, hiding his disappointment. He wanted to get up to the scene as quickly as possible, but he knew better than to press Marius further. "Come. I will take you to see him."

Volcan stirred as he heard a door closing, up the hallway from the main entrance, hands on his spear as he stared down the corridor, watching for any sign of movement. He relaxed when he saw the forms of Gregory and Owlfred appear around the corner at the end of the hall. He noticed a third figure follow, whom he gathered quickly was Commander Marius.

Snapping to attention, Volcan sidestepped from the door, clearing the way for them, and held his salute until they passed. Marius stopped briefly to glance at him, eyeing him up and down and looking at the red and gold feathers of his uncovered neck and wings.

"The MacAingeal boy," he said in a low voice, a frown creasing his expression before he turned and stepped forward.

Volcan swallowed nervously, holding his position until he was told otherwise. He could hear the conversation in the office through the open door, saw the flash of purple of Marius' cape as he fell to one knee before Avogadro.

"Your highness. It is truly a blessing to see you alive and unharmed," he said. Volcan could tell by the echo of his voice that he was almost kissing the floor in front of the Prince.

"There is no need for that, Marius," Avogadro said, the shakiness of his voice well-hidden. "Please, stand. We have more to worry about than ceremony."

"But there is," returned Marius. "For I have failed you, my Prince. I failed your family. I was not there to protect your parents when they needed me most." Volcan leaned forward, enough to peer into the office and see Marius lifting himself off the floor, staring up at the Prince standing over him. "But I swear on my life I will find the creature and kill it!"

Volcan did not miss Avogadro's tensing, and knew why. Marius had just revealed the truth to him about the fate of his parents -the king and queen. Volcan felt a pang of sympathy toward Avogadro, knowing how hard it was for anyone to learn such a thing. He had done his fair share of visits to the family members of fallen guardsmen...

But Avogadro surprised him. Despite the obvious tension, he held himself firm. The fear vanished from his face, replaced by a hard, deep scowl that darkened his features. Volcan could almost hear the knuckles of his hands cracking as his fists clenched, and knew he was trying hard not to lose himself.

There was a long period of silence to reflect before the prince spoke. His voice forced to remain strong though Volcan could still hear some of the pain in it. "Captain Vinson has reason to believe the Lycanthrians are involved in this atrocity."

Marius was on his feet in seconds, meeting the Prince's eyes before turning to the blue hawk. "You did not say this before," he said.

"I don't have enough proof," replied Gregory, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and producing a yellowed piece of ivory, which he presented to Marius. "Among what I have collected is this."

"A tooth?" Marius asked, taking the object gingerly, weighing it in his hands. "It is... huge! Nearly saber-like! No bear left this."

"It is canid, according to Dr. Henry Quill -a zoologist I asked to assist in the investigation," explained Gregory. "The creature first appeared the day the Lycanthrians arrived, when it attacked the ship I told you about -I don't believe in coincidence but the courts do. The following day, Corporal MacAingeal received that tooth from one of the guards securing the ship, where I then had it analyzed. The Corporal also claimed to have seen a tooth missing from the mouth of the Lycanthrian Ambassador's bodyguard, Vadim Alkaev.

"However, it seems to be far too large for his mouth to accommodate, and his own missing tooth was only broken to the three-quarter mark. This fang you hold is whole, snapped right to the root minus some chipping around the base -more than what Alkaev is missing. Due to this I can't actually link the two together -I need more proof, and why I asked you to let me into the palace."

"You think you might find more evidence?" Marius asked.

"I must try," replied Gregory, "and I brought my second in command, Lieutenant James Alden, who was once my division's lead investigator before he was promoted, as was I once. We have the experience, and I personally wish to see the truth found."

Marius turned to look at Avogadro. "It is your decision, my Prince. The house is your-"

"I allow it," Avogadro cut him off bitterly. "Captain Gregory Vinson, Lieutenant James Alden, and Corporal Volcan MacAingeal are to have unrestricted access to the palace, and freedom to search the crime scene unhindered. I want this creature, and whoever handles it, found dead or alive!" His last words were sharp and authoritative. Even though they were not directed at Volcan, the phoenix snapped to attention once more like he were still on guard -which, technically, he was- and stood statuesque as Marius responded.

"By your command, sire. I will take them there immediately," Marius said, perturbed by the Prince's abrupt change in manner.

He was likely not used to seeing him so aggressive, as in the short time Volcan had met him at the showing of the new airships, the Prince was a mild-mannered, intellectual type. Firm when needing to be, as he had been with the engineers who had started a fight with Volcan, but there he had spoken more like a disappointed employer than as a furious ship's captain as he had to Marius.

"I will be along shortly," Avogadro said in a calmer tone. "I wish to speak to Owlfred alone for a moment."

Marius stepped briskly out of the office followed by Alden and Gregory, the latter who motioned to Volcan for him to follow them. He did, but daringly looked back over his shoulder as he heard the door to Marius' office slowly closing.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he had caught the glint of a falling tear before the prince had completely shut the door.

The scene in the hallways nearly had Volcan spilling out the contents of his stomach as it sent his mind flashing back to the Anapol's Memory when he had first discovered it. Yet even that scene paled in comparison to what awaited them in the palace outside of the King's chamber.

The corridor was filled with mutilated corpses, only half of which had been removed from the halls by two guards, carrying them out one at a time. Not a surface was spared the blood -wall, ceiling floor, doors. The entire eight paces between Avogadro's room and the King's chamber was like a scene from some nightmare. Bodies of avians, faces hidden behind their helmets, lay where they had died, chests torn open, throats slashed. One poor soul had his arm pulled off, and by the trail of blood behind him he had tried to crawl away, but the blood loss had claimed his life before he could find help.

Avogadro and Owlfred were both staring at the scene in horror, and the elder owl could not stop himself from running to the corner and retching in disgust. Avogadro seemed to be fighting to keep himself from doing the same, a hand clutching his stomach as though holding it in his body.

"This is horrible," Alden said with bated breath. "All these men... and by one creature?"

"Marius," Gregory began, not taking his eyes off the scene. "I am sorry, about your losses here."

Marius nodded slowly, eyes clenched. "For their sakes, Captain... I hope you find something."

Gregory, Alden and Volcan stepped forward, making their way slowly toward the King's chamber. Avogadro started to follow them but Marius held his arm out before him, silently pleading him to not continue. But Avogadro pushed the arm down, forcing himself past the guard commander and toward the room.

He hesitated when he reached the edge of the door, Gregory and his men having already stepped into the room, hearing Gregory utter a curse at whatever he saw in there. Hearing the steadfast captain lose his composure, even briefly, brought the Prince to a definite halt.

"Avogadro?" He turned, finding Owlfred standing behind him, having managed to collect himself and looking pleadingly at the Prince. Avogadro had never seen his aide look so miserable or desperate as he did now, begging the Prince to not continue.

Despite how much part of him protested it, Avogadro did as his aide asked. He wasn't ready to see what was in that chamber...

The King's body lay near to the door, stuck to the stone in a pool of dried blood, a jewelled rapier clenched in his hand in a death grip, his half-open, faded, unseeing eyes staring across the room to the balcony door, the light in them having long left. He was garbed only in his sleepwear, the source of the blood pool being from a slashed throat and puncture wound in his side, deep into his kidney.

The Queen lay sprawled out on the bed, her chest ripped open, leaving her and the bed soaked in red. A pistol lay on the floor beside it, chamber open where she had attempted to load another round , but the beast had been upon her before she could. Her left hand seemed to have been reaching toward the door, either to Christopher, or perhaps in desperation to get to her son, to protect him from sharing their fate. But she had never managed to move from where she was.

"Ancestor's guide you to a peaceful rest," Volcan whispered, not realizing he had said the prayer aloud as he looked at the body of Queen Annabelle, "and may their heirs watch over the one you left behind."

"What was that, Corporal?" Alden asked. "Who are you speaking to?"

Volcan jumped. "S-sorry, Lieutenant. Just... offering my ancestor's good will to them," he said.

"You never struck me as a spiritualist," Alden remarked as he walked over to the balcony, starting his search there.

"Truly, I'm not. The phoenixes of the peninsula -my people, are an Ancestor Worshipping race. My mother brought me up on our traditions," he said. "We revere everything they leave for us, and we believe that those who came before us, and left before us, will always be there waiting to welcome us back into their family when we join them after leaving our own legacy on the world. But the MacAingeal, though we honour our ancestors, we believe that our true faith should be in what the living can do in the name of our ancestors, that only actions, not words or possessions, will change the world as it needs to be."

Alden nodded, as if satisfied. He then moved to study the broken railing of the balcony, seeing the split stone and mortar where the creature had smashed through it while making its escape. He peered over the side, down to the grounds below, and to the blood spattered on the stone walk.

But then, something caught his eye. "Captain, I see something in the gardens down there. Looks metallic," he said.

"Retrieve it," the hawk said, not looking up from Christopher's body. "See what else you can find -some things might have been thrown out there in the struggle, but they may have something we need to reconstruct the crime scene."

"I will be back in a moment," said Alden, bounding over the railing and disappearing over the side.

"Commander?" Gregory called, and the golden eagle appeared at the door a moment later. "The door is broken in. Does the king normally bolt it when he goes to bed?"

Marius looked shocked, and then turned to the open double doors leading into the chamber, studying the handles and the splintered wood. "He does- did, not. In case of an attack, he leaves the bolt open to let the guards inside."

"Then perhaps you can explain this as well," said Gregory, gesturing to the King's sword.

"His sword? He was protecting himself -I see nothing strange about that."

"Look closer," said Gregory. "Above the guard."

Marius stepped closer, lowering himself to one knee and setting aside his helmet to lean down and study the King's blade, trying to ignore the face of the man he had once been sworn to protect -the face that would haunt him forever, as the moment he had failed. He focused on what Gregory was pointing to...

His heart skipped a beat. "The blade..."

"King Christopher did not duel for sport, did he?" Gregory asked.

"No. He practiced on occasion but he was not a swordsman by professional standards," he said. "But these notches, they are not filed down. He would never leave them, unless..."

"Unless the one who made them is the one who killed him," stated Gregory.

Marius looked at him. "The beast...?" But he trailed off.

"Volcan. Go to the balcony," stated Gregory. "Look down the walls to either side -look for holes, scratches, anything that could be caused by claws."

Volcan hurried to the balcony door, setting aside his spear to remove his helmet, freeing his vision to study the stonework more closely as he leaned over the rail. Finding nothing on the left side, he moved to the opposite side, reaching down with a hand to feel over the white stone. But it was chiselled perfectly, not a scar to be had.

Before he could walk inside, Alden came over the railing, rustic brown wings spread wide as he flew up and folding them as he dropped onto the balcony, two items carried in his hands. One was a length of rope, coiled up to carry its lengths in one hand, one of its ends finishing in three barbed, metal hooks. He let Volcan go first, and the phoenix made his report.

"Nothing sir. There is not a mark on the walls," he reported, stepping aside to let Alden present his own findings.

"This was in the garden, lying hidden among the flowers," said the kite. "It must have fallen when the beast destroyed the railing."

"A grappling hook?!" Marius demanded, rising to his feet so sharply that he nearly left the floor. "How did we miss that?"

"Look for a weapon!" Gregory prompted them.

Alden dropped the grappling hook as he carried out the order, checking under the bed while Marius went to the dresser, pulling it away from the wall. Volcan turned to the balcony again, noticing the drapes had fallen -likely in the fight. He lifted one of them -nothing. He went to the other, lifting it, and felt his heart leap into his throat.

At his feet rested a dagger with an engraved handle, made of steel and filled with black stone -onyx, or jet, and with a wide pommel to catch on the bottom of the hand when it was pulled free. He picked up the knife, and showed it to Gregory.

"This!" He said.

"And here!" Marius added, presenting a sword with a saber-like shape to its blade, but lacking the curved guard the one Gregory wore on his hip possessed, ending with a hooked pommel where it would fit around the wielder's pinky. The blade was thin and sharpened to a fine edge, but like King Christopher's sword, it bore notches of a recent duel.

"A sword and dagger," Gregory said. "A grappling hook, no evidence of the creature's arrival but weapons left behind when it fled..." Gregory analyzed out loud. "Someone attacked the king, entering via the balcony; the creature killed the queen and the guards, but King Christopher died fighting an assassin!" He pointed to the door. "That is why the door was bolted! The killer must have locked it to keep the guards out!"

The raised voices had clearly become too much for Avogadro, able to hear them from the hallway. Despite protests from Owlfred, the Prince came running to the door, halting in his tracks when he saw the bodies of his parents, his father on the floor and his mother on the bed, under which Alden announced he had found something. He emerged from beneath the skirt of the bed, carrying a thin metal tool ending in a curved hook.

"And this is how they got in," he stated. "Thieves call it a slimmer, and it is meant to fit between the doors to lift bolts or latches -any amateur smith can craft one for a few coins." he then saw Avogadro at the door. "...Oh."

Gregory looked up at Avogadro, only now noticing him. He rose to his feet and stepped over to him. "Your highness," he said. "I wish you hadn't have had to see this. But we finally know what has happened."

Avogadro slowly turned his head to look at the captain, the shocked expression never leaving his face as he met Gregory's gaze.

Marius spoke up then, a skeptical look about him. "Captain... I confess, I am confused," he said, ushering the Prince out of the room and into Owlfred's waiting arms, the owl hugging the Prince comfortingly as Avogadro continued to stare ahead in shock, a distant look in his eyes.

"All this points to is the creature was either here the whole time, in this room, or was never here at all," he said. "But my men saw it! Those bodies out there prove it was here! Yet there was an assassin as well?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense! The only other way the creature could have appeared then is by magic, but my men never saw anyone else in here, and the ones killed outside were felled by claws as well!"

Gregory met Marius' gaze with a look that said what was in his own thoughts. He had no answer either, for to him it also did not add together. He held his hands before him, folded over his stomach and another resting below his beak as he attempted to construct the crime in his mind.

The assassin approached the palace, using the grappling hook found by Alden to reach the balcony, somehow avoiding detection by the guards at the door -or perhaps they had been killed in advance, though and autopsy would have to determine that. he tried to imagine the creature, picturing a giant wolf with four huge claws on each paw -by the size of the tooth in his pocket, it would be too large and heavy to use the rope, and even then, did it have opposable thumbs?

The assassin had entered, lifting the lock on the balcony door via the slimmer -also found by Alden. They entered, crept across the room to bolt the door, in case his targets awoke. They did, and Christopher had risen to defend himself and his wife, who had also taken her shot at the assailant with a pistol. The king was overwhelmed by the assailant, killed, and then the guard had burst in to find the creature over Annabelle's eviscerated body.

They attacked, it killed them. Suffering multiple wounds and assailed by more guards than it could handle alone, it had fled out the balcony, taking with it the unfortunate sergeant it had thrown out there before. No evidence of the creature coming, none of the assassin leaving. There was no time for them to have possibly switched places, and why bother when one was enough?

The creature had come with assassin...

The assassin had left with the creature...

Tools left behind, but scattered about in the struggle or deliberately hidden, with plans to return for them if the opportunity arose. He once again thought back to the Anapol's Memory, where they had found the tooth...

The creature's tooth...

Vadim missing a tooth...

Gregory opened his eyes, reaching into his pocket and producing the yellowed length of ivory, staring at it as if he were seeing it for the first time.

"Can it be?" He asked, almost in a whisper. His brow furrowed, face darkening. "Corporal." he said firmly.

Volcan stiffened. "S-Sir?" He asked, startled by Gregory's tone.

"It would seem," he said, pausing briefly as he turned to look at Volcan while holding the tooth aloft. "I owe you an apology."

Volcan blanked, eyes blinking in confusion as he processed Gregory's words. "Uh... sir?"

"I do not know how it is possible, but there is no other way to explain what has happened here. You may have been right all along," he said as he looked at the tooth again.

The silence that fell over the King's chamber had been long and uncomfortable for all present. The idea that Vadim was some form of nigh invulnerable creature in anthropian form, the question of why he would fight for Avolon one day against the Ragnarosians, only to murder the King and countless guards, not to mention the perhaps dozens he had murdered on the Anapol's Memory.

But now all of the pieces had come together. How the creature had vanished after the ship, how it had arrived unseen at the palace. Vadim could move in anthropian form and would be far less conspicuous that way. He had come equipped, and had a contingency in place in case of exposure. All that remained was to find out why.

Marius was the first to break the silence, announcing at last what Gregory had been driving for all along. "By order of the King and the laws of Avolon," he said, with authority and conviction, "I now revoke the protection of diplomatic immunity on the Lycanthrians, and issue an order for their immediate arrest." He put on his helmet then, glaring through the visor with eyes that promised vengeance. "I will gather my men, and we will go to the diplomat's manse and drag the Ambassador out and make her order her followers to submit. Vadim will be taken dead or alive!"

With that, he turned and stormed out into the hallway, his cape trailing as though his anger were a palpable wind around him as he walked. "The Lycanthrians will pay dearly for this transgression!" He squarked.

Avogadro came back then, entering the room and asking the others if he could have it for a moment. His face was tear-stained, having no longer been able to hold back his emotions after seeing the bodies of his parents. They gave him what he asked for, only Owlfred allowed to stay as the Prince said his final goodbyes to his parents, their bodies now covered by sheets that Alden had found

He apologized to his father, for ever making him worry about him during the Ragnarosian attack. He wept over his mother, thanking her for the many years of kindness and love she had shown him. Then with a heavy heart, he picked up the crown from his father's bedside, carrying it between his hands as he left the room, and ventured into his own, where he asked the others to wait before he shut the doors.

Shortly after, the doors to Avogadro's bedroom opened, and the Prince emerged. Dressed once again in regal attire, as always topped by his long red coat. He had retrieved his ornate colichemarde to replace the common sword he had borrowed, but now he also carried a pistol on his hip, holstered in a leather carrier.

Owlfred blanched at the sight of the pistol. He recognized it as King Christopher's, and by all rights it belonged to Avogadro, but it shocked him no less to find him carrying it on his person. "Mein herr!"

But Avogadro cut him off. "I will personally see justice done for my mother and father," he stated with a tone of finality, looking squarely at Owlfred as he spoke. Then, his gaze drifted to Gregory and his two officers. "I would have you three come with me, as my temporary bodyguards."

"Is that not for Commander Marius to determine?" Lieutenant Alden asked.

"It is _my_choice who I entrust my life to," returned Avogadro bitterly. "Now let's go -time is fleeting."

Without another word, he started up the hallway, his pace hastened. Owlfred struggled to keep up with him, the Avolon guards hesitating only briefly to cast each other a wary glance before they started after him, forming a line behind him and matching pace with the prince as they followed him out.

Outside the palace, they found Marius addressing some of his men. He looked over as the doors opened, and he and his guards all fell to one knee as Avogadro approached.

Without stopping, Avogadro spoke, "gather your men and proceed to the Diplomat's Manse, Commander," he said. "I have a stop to make before we go."

Marius looked up as Avogadro passed him, followed by the three Avolon security troopers. "Might I inquire where, sire?" He asked.

"The prison," Avogadro replied bluntly.

Even as he was offered no explanation as to why, the expression of the ice phoenix -Vinge, as Avogadro had called him before- remained stoic as the door of his cell was pulled open. He kept his hands at his sides, a show of neutrality, and watched them with a studious gaze, waiting.

"Step forth, Vinge," the voice of the prince rose from behind the guards standing between the raven and the cell of the ice phoenix. "I want to speak with you."

Slowly, Vinge stepped forth, his face ever unchanging as he left the cell, eyeing each guard who watched him in turn, seeing their stares through the sockets of their helms. It wasn't until Avogadro ordered them aside that he finally saw the prince in full, the raven stepping forward and meeting his gaze.

Avogadro hadn't noticed it before just how tall the ice phoenix was. He was six feet at least -not as tall as Volcan, nor as fit of body. His figure, beneath his dirty clothes and grime-ridden features, was lithe like a runner, though a few scars on his arms and hands was a sign of a man who lived by the sword. He had been in the jailhouse for some time, and though well fed it was clear the mustiness and filth of the cell had taken a liking to him.

Avogadro looked at the nearest of the prison guards, another of the King's Guard though notably less armoured than the entourage at the palace, though he kept the obscuring helmet. "A bucket of water, a towel, and the man's belongings, if you please. Maybe some clean clothes if there are any about," he instructed.

The guard acted without question, disappearing into another room as the prince addressed Vinge. "Your warning about Njall has earned you your release," he said. "My apologies it took so long. Much has happened since the raid. But today, I offer you a chance to earn your place in Avolon as a free man."

He paused, waiting for an answer. Vinge merely kept staring, blinking only once but remaining attentive. Avogadro continued. "We are going to confront some visitors to my city," he explained. "If you are willing to assist us, I will name you a citizen of Avolon. You shall have a life here, if you want it, or be free to travel to Albion, or Atlas, or anywhere of your choosing. But first, I ask for your help."

Vinge did not wait long to answer, considering the request for a few quiet seconds before he answered. "May I inquire who it is you are confronting, and why you would need me?" He gestured to the three avians behind Avogadro, his eyes lingering on one of them in particular -the one with red wings- for an added second before he continued. "These men seem as able as I."

"They have a creature of some kind, something they have used to..." he paused, seemingly trying to collect himself as if he had momentarily choked on something. "To commit atrocities within my city. Sword and gun do not seem to kill it."

Vinge's eyes narrowed as his head elevated, looking down past his beak at the raven. "Lycanthria," he said, without hesitation.

Avogadro blinked, looking at the guard next to him before continuing. "You know of them?"

"Few of the northern cities do not -my homeland of Ragnaross least of all, as we are only four days of sailing north of their land, across the sea we know as the Ulvesjøen, or 'Wolf Sea' in the merchant tongue," he explained. "It was before my time, and before the coming of the usurper, but the Ragnarosians have faced Lycanthria in the past. Stories passed down by our elders speak of warriors among them who bridged the gap between sapient and primal. I fear I do not know what it means -the usurper slew many of the city elders following his rise to power. I did not hear the stories in detail, only vague recounting by their heirs."

"Between Primal and Sapient?" Avogadro repeated, rubbing his chin in thought. "Would it happen to have anything to do with the ability to shape shift?"

"I have no answer," Vinge replied, shaking his head slowly. "Only that some of the recounting compare them to beings we know as 'Berserkers' -a warrior of great power and savage fighting instincts, like a rabid animal."

Avogadro grimaced at that, and then turned as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. He stepped aside for the guard he had sent for Vinge's belongings, carried over one arm while a bucket hung by its handle by the hand of his second arm, a towel floating in the clean liquid. He passed the bucket to Vinge cautiously, who took it with a nod of thanks, and set it down as his feet as he started to remove his shirt.

As the ice phoenix began to wash himself with the towel, Avogadro looked at the other belongings. A leather coinpurse, mostly empty, a leather-bound book with a title not in a dialect the Prince knew, and a sword with a basket hilt, which the prince motioned for.

The guard passed it to him without question, and Avogadro felt its weight in his hand. It had a fair heft to it though was not much heavier than a saber. The basket hilt was polished, but it had little luster, and seemed to consist of carefully arranged steel bands, melted together to create a cage-like appearance around the wielders hand, and was bottomed by a flat, brass pommel. He drew it halfway, examining the blade. The tapered, double-edged blade caught the light of the hanging oil lamps, reflecting light into Avogadro's face and making him blink in reflex. The blade was the width of two fingers pressed together, sharpened to a fine edge. He noticed a few scratches and notches in the blade, proof that it had seen its share of battle.

"I didn't see weapons like this among the raiders," said Avogadro, pushing the blade back into the wooden sheath and keeping it for Vinge until the phoenix had finished washing and dressing in the new clothes brought for him, consisting of a black, sleeveless shirt with padded shoulders, and matching trousers.

"It is not of Ragnarosian make," Vinge clarified. "It originated from one of our more easterly neighbours, beyond the mountains of our lands. It is called a Schiavona."

Avogadro gave a nod and held the sword to Vinge handle-first. "Keep it ready," he said as Vinge accepted it, and proceeded to loop the belt of the sheath around his waist. "You may need it before long."

"I will be ready," he promised, nodding back, and falling in behind the Prince as Avogadro led the way out of the prison.

Passing three cells on the left, following the wall of blank, featureless stone on their right, they reached the stairs ascending out of the dungeons and back to the city above. Vinge had to shield his eyes from the sunlight as they emerged, having been deprived of its incandescent glow for longer than he was accustomed to. When his eyes adjusted, he lowered his arm, and took in his surroundings, noticing immediately that they were not alone on the cobbled street.

The Ice Phoenix took in the figures accompanying Avogadro then as they emerged into daylight. An owl, wearing a cotton tunic that seemed comically too large for him, walked at the Prince's side. A blue-feathered, yellow-eyed hawk, who like the owl seemed to be entering his middle years, showing the marks of age around his eyes and the thinning of his face. The hawk seemed to be in the waning years of his prime, still physically fit but soon to be subjected to the ravages of time. The owl's feathers did well to hide his age lines, but a close look showed he was recently past his better years, and he was shorter and thinner than the hawk.

The other two wore helmets that hid most of their features. One Vinge couldn't identify, with rusty red-brown feathers and amber-yellow eyes. He was lean, and Vinge could imagine he was quick on his feet as avians went. The other with the wings of brilliant red and gold, seemed to be his contrast -large, physically imposing, and carrying the heavier weapon of the two. They both held spears, but at their sides, the larger carried a hand-and-a-half sword, while the other favoured a lightweight saber.

The larger held Vinge's attention for a moment, eyeing the red feathers and gold undertones of the avian's neck and wings. The avian had been looking elsewhere, but as if feeling Vinge's eyes on him, the avian turned to look his way, and Vinge caught a hint of sky blue as the light seeped through the eyeholes of their visor. Their gazes remained locked for what seemed like moments, though it was only seconds before the blue hawk clapped his hand on the red's shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.

"We must go rendezvous with Marius," he stated. "Come."

The King's Guard reformed their pentagonal formation around the Prince, while the others formed into a single file, the white avian walking at their sides as they started down the road. As they reached the slight incline leading down to the bottom of the ridge, Vinge turned to the red avian again.

"You are a fire phoenix, aren't you?" He asked.

Volcan did not know why the sudden question from the ice phoenix made him start. He hurriedly collected himself, glancing at Vinge briefly, before facing forward again, not wanting to break protocol.

Volcan turned his head to look at the ice phoenix, hesitating to answer before he responded with a simple "Yes," and added shortly. "Yes, I am."

"You must be related to the MacAingeal clan, correct?"

Again, Volcan could only answer with a simple yes. Why did he feel so tense around this one avian? Even Vadim did not agitate him so! It was like something within him was telling him to get away from the ice phoenix, or, in another way, telling him to strike him down...

Volcan ignored both.

"My name is Vinge, by the way," the ice phoenix said. "I am pleased to meet you."

The fire phoenix blinked, but quickly responded. "Volcan MacAingeal," he introduced himself. "Rank Corporal of the Avolon Security Forces."

Vinge nodded to him again and looked ahead as Avogadro lead them toward a large house ahead, where the ice phoenix could make out a collective group of avians wearing armour identical to those who had escorted him through the city the day he had come to Avolon bearing the white flag, though there were thrice as many as the ones who had escorted him, and at their head was one wearing a violet cape, standing at the mansion door and communicating with a female clad in a long black dress and a white apron -a servant, he suspected.

The golden eagle turned angrily from the door, sending his violet cape tossing as he stormed away from the door. He looked in their direction, and his eyes immediately widened in alarm at the sight of Vinge, hand going immediately to his sword. In response, his guards turned and angled their halberds and rifles at him, bringing Vinge to an instinctive halt.

"Stay that sword, commander!" Avogadro ordered sharply.

"That man is supposed to be in a cell!" Marius returned. "He is of Ragnaross!"

"And he is the reason that Ragnaross did not make off with our city's entire harvest and the lives of countless citizens and soldiers alike," returned Avogadro. "This man warned us of the attack, turning against his own people to protect Avolon."

At that, it seemed Marius had had enough. "Prince Avogadro, you are far too quick to accept these outsiders!" He exploded, pointing to Volcan. "The MacAingeal have been enemies of Avolon for generations," and then to Vinge, "while that one is traitor to his own! They cannot be trusted!"

Avogadro's anger at the Commander's outburst was all too clear as his face darkened into a scowl so harsh, even Owlfred had recoiled as though he had never seen it before. "You are out of line, Commander!" He shouted angrily, in an authoritative voice that might have made his father proud as it brought Marius back into his place immediately. "You speak such venom of the MacAingeal, when it was they who defeated the leaders of Ragnaross, not us!"

He reached back with his arm to gesture toward Volcan. "Before you stands the man who vanquished one of the sons of Njall himself! A son who was poised to take my life, and it was not one of your men, but Corporal MacAingeal who struck him down and ended his rampage! You will speak of him with respect in my presence else I shall have you demoted, Commander!"

Marius stiffened, realizing his error in his outburst before. He immediately dropped to one knee before the Prince, head lowered to stare at the ground. "Forgive me your highness. That was wrong of me," he said. "But surely you can understand, I cannot abide you risking your safety with outlanders, instead of your own guard."

"Perhaps you would like to bring that up with my father."

The venom in Avogadro's voice struck Marius more decisively than any sword blow could have ever. His wings tensed, his tail bristled, and even his body shook for only the briefest of seconds as those words sank in.Owlfred looked utterly appalled at the callousness of Avogadro, a feeling shared by Captain Vinson, Lieutenant Alden, Volcan and even Vinge, whom all looked at the Prince as if seeing him for the first time in their lives, like he were a stranger to them.

Volcan felt disgusted. Even though Marius had shown some contempt for the phoenix, he hardly believed he deserved such a thing and felt sickened that Avogadro would stoop so low out of spite. The Commander's failure to protect the king surely left enough of a wound on his pride, yet Avogadro had only driven the knife deeper. This did not feel like the same kind, understanding boy that Volcan had met at the airship presentation only days earlier, where Prince Avogadro had stood in his defense against prejudiced citizens. It was as though someone else had replaced that boy with this spiteful youth.

"Now... report," Avogadro went on, never losing the bitter edge of his tone, speaking his next three words slowly and with a vengeful ire all too clear in his voice. "Where. Is. Boleslav?"

~~~~~

The enclosed spaces of Central Avolon carried the heavy footfalls of the King's Guard as they marched in force through the city streets. Citizens scattered at the call of the golden eagle marching at the lead with a jewelled falchion in his hand, ordering them aside as the guard pushed forth. Those who failed to comply were forced when the advancing line threatened to trample them if they did not move, resulting in the spilling of a market stall's contents when the unfortunate soul attempted to take a shortcut off the street.

It was rare indeed to see the guard marching in force like this, and their presence had attracted more than a few curious onlookers. Windows flew open in houses as residents peered out to find the column passing below, fifty strong avians clad in the regal armour of the upper-class protectors, halberds and carbines raised high above them as they marched. Those with a better view saw, at the center of the column, five curious forms that clearly did not belong among them.

Over the canal bridges they walked, through the crowded town until the narrow streets opened into the wideness of the North Harbour, the Merchant's Channel outstretched like a blue silken sash behind the many ships in port, towering masts covered in white sails and dotted by sailors of all races stood like a wall before the column as they cleared the buildings and started down the cobblestone-paved shores, until they found their destination.

The Lycanthrian Ambassador's ship sat still in the docks, sails furled across its three-masted frame. Sailors could be seen scrambling about the deck, evidence of preparations being made which served only to fuel the suspicions already present among the King's Guard as they formed a semi-circular line at the wharf. The center parted, letting the five oddities of the mix step forward, following Commander Marius and two other guards as they reached the starboard center of the ship. The boarding plank for the vessel was up, leaving the vessel inaccessible.

The crew of the ship had begun to gather at the rail when they saw the contingent of guards gathering nearby, staring with mixed expressions down at Marius and his entourage.

"I am Marius Genovesi Da Atlosia, Commander of the Guard to his majesty the King! I seek Ambassador Asya Boleslav of Lycanthria!" He called up the ramp.

The sailors parted as another figure stepped forth, and there she was. Volcan recognized her even though he had only really seen her once before -having had no time for a second look when he had protected her from the son of Njall during the Ragnarosian attack.

Yet, she was an easy one to recognize, with her flowing, straight-combed black hair, cascading over her shoulders like a river of ink and managing to stand out in contrast to her already dark fur. She wore a scarlet dress of Avolon make, with an open back normally reserved for wings and modified with a supporting strap around the back of her neck. But what was most recognizable about her were her eyes, the colour of two ruby gemstones -a colour not common to any race Volcan had ever heard of. Behind those eyes was a powerful allure, one even he felt when he stared into them, but there was an intelligence there, a deep knowledge beyond his comprehension.

It was who came next that made the phoenix tense however as an armoured figure appeared at her side, easily distinguished by his mask helm that hid his facial feathers minus the front of his neck and his lower jaw. Vadim Alkaev was an imposing figure in armour, and Volcan had only seen him briefly without that helmet when he had seen that missing tooth in his maw, yet to find out he might be the mysterious creature that the Avolon Security Forces had been searching for for weeks unnerved him, even more than the warrior skill Volcan already knew Vadim to possess. His plated chainmail hung heavily about his fit form, the black-painted heater shield over his left arm marred by scars of the battle with Ragnaross, and the powerful curved sword with a weighted tip, which Volcan had seen decapitate an Anapolian in a single, effortless swing, hung at his side.

Asya placed her hands upon the railing as she addressed the commander who had called upon her, "I am Ambassador Boleslav," the wolfess called, her voice thick with the accent of her homeland, yet she still coherently spoke the language of Avolon. "How may I be of assistance, Commander?"

Even as the eagle started to answer, Volcan noticed something odd. Vadim's head had turned, seemingly looking toward the phoenix, and then jerked as if taking a second look at him, like he was surprised. Except, Volcan didn't think Vadim was looking at him. To the Phoenix's left was Avogadro, staring back to the male wolf impassibly. Perhaps the wolf had caught the Prince's look. But why that jolt, he wondered. If Vadim was the creature, he should have known the Prince had escaped the palace attack. Why did he seem so surprised to see him?

Marius' reply stole Volcan's attention back to the matter at hand. "By the laws of Avolon, your diplomatic status has been altered. Your immunity is now revoked, and you and your forces are ordered to throw down all of your weapons and submit to a full investigation of this ship!"

Asya looked aghast. "I don't understand, Commander -what have we done to offend so?" She asked.

"There has been a murder, and the weapons we found at the scene indicate one of your people were involved!" Marius returned.

"A murder? Unthinkable!" Asya protested hastily. "We would never do such a thing!"

"Explain then why you are here aboard your ship," Gregory spoke up then, "and not at the Manse? You seemed intent on leaving, Ambassador, and that does little to prove your innocence!"

"I was giving no such order," Asya protested further, and despite her raised voice her composure did not shift, seeming to elevate it only to be heard and not out of any reaction to the charges against her and her people. "I was here to check on my men to ensure they were resting comfortably during our stay here. Confined aboard this ship, you must understand they are restless. This is nothing more than a misunderstanding."

"Enough!" Marius interjected. "Cooperate and you will be treated well! Refuse, and we will take your ship by force, and you will all be incarcerated and questioned at length! What is your answer?"

Asya opened her mouth to speak again, but Vadim suddenly put up his hand to silence her, placing his foot on the rail. "There will be no cooperation," he spoke, in an accented voice thicker than Asya's, speaking in the merchant's tongue.

"He _does_speak common?" Volcan asked aloud. He didn't know the dialect fluently, but he understood some of it -enough to identify and even a fair number of words that he could at least hold a conversation -if a rather strained one.

"You intend to resist then?" Marius asked in challenge, hand moving to grasp his falchion as the two guards with him tightened the grip on their halberds, angling the tips toward the wolf. "Even if you will not lower your boarding plank, you will never leave the Merchant's Channel alive!"

"Cannot stop what been set in motion," Vadim returned, drawing his own sword. "Avolon shall fall. Already begun, even as we speak."

"A confession, then!" Marius snapped, drawing his sword. "You admit to the murder!"

"Not I," Vadim returned, his steps not slowing even as Marius drew his blade. "Not I who killed King of Avolon. Matters not -the deed is done."

Marius tensed. He had never said who had been killed at the palace, and despite Vadim's claim that he was not the murderer, it did not change his response. He held his sword at the ready, his fierce glare sharpening as he inched forward. "You shall pay with your blood, murderer," he said.

"Stand fast, Marius!" Gregory spoke up suddenly. "He is trying to goad you!"

Marius hesitated, but never took his eyes off the wolf. Much to the surprise of the Avolonians, the Lycanthrians lowered their boarding plank, down which Vadim walked, slowly, sword and shield in hand and never taking his eyes from Marius, glaring through the eyeholes of his helmet.

"You know of the King's murder, yet claim not to have done the deed," Marius recapped. "Why? You had to know this would be seen as an act of war. Was that your intention, to provoke a response from us? To make us the aggressor, so that our allies would not come to our aid, having no obligation to under our defensive pacts?"

By now, Vadim was at the bottom of the ramp, and close enough that Marius saw his lip curl back in a smile before he threw back his head and laughed mockingly to the sky. "Not so complicate," he said, unable to speak the proper word of 'complicated'. "Only intent, chaos. Disorder. Power struggle. Allies not help you -never know, until too late."

Despite the broken tongue, Volcan was able to piece together what Vadim was saying -that the intention behind the murder of the King had only been to cause panic in Avolon. The gap in leadership would result in a struggle between the nobility and damage the morale of the city's army. The Lycanthrians had wanted war all along, but in this case, it would be in their favour, taking advantage of Avolon's state for a swift, decisive victory.

"It seems there is a gap in your plan," said Gregory as he came to stand beside Marius, drawing his own sword. "You cannot return to Lycanthria to spread word of your success. Your plan has failed."

Again, Vadim laughed, and peered toward the hawk with a visible smile below the rim of his mask helmet. "Foolish. We were not leaving to pass word to Lycanthria," he spat derisively. "Attack begin. Escape carnage."

Gregory stiffened as his mind processed the message. "The attack is already beginning?"

"Da. Cannot stop it," returned Vadim.

Avogadro turned to look at Volcan. "What does he mean the attack has already beginning? From where?"

"I... I don't know," replied Volcan, looking up at the ship. He thought to find Asya, and hope that maybe she could offer a clearer explanation.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

"Men, take him down!" Marius commanded his guards.

The Guards rushed at the wolf, halberds angled to run him through. Vadim angled his shield to deflect the first and backhanded the other with his sword, forcing it away from himself. He attempted to bring his sword back for a counterstrike, his target bringing up their arm to block it, letting the bracer take the impact while the other managed to strike him in the leg. Vadim buckled, his leg bleeding from the halberd blade.

Despite his struggles, Vadim seemed to be overwhlemed by the two guard. Seeing the danger he was in, threw back his head and howled. A short, brisk call that was all he needed to summon reinforcements. Marius looked up at the ship as he heard the cries above, and saw the armoured wolves aboard starting onto the gangplank to join the fight, with others being lowered to allow them to exit the ship faster. Not hesitating for an instant, he hooked his sword under the nearest plank and heaved with all his might, throwing it aside and sending it dropping into the water along with the first wolf to have made it on, his howl silenced by the frothing water as he plunged under the ship's keel.

The soldiers aboard scrambled to get the other planks lowered while Marius returned to his duel with Vadim, who had been briefly distract led by his two guards. The eagle snapped his blade forward as Vadim parried a halberd thrust, driving the point into the wolf's wrist and causing him to drop his sword. He then backhand swung his blade across Vadim's throat between the mail collar and helmet. Vadim choked, hands grasping his bleeding neck as Marius, certain that would be enough to end the wolf, called a retreat.

"Leave him to bleed!" Marius told his guards as one moved to finish off Vadim, but he voiced no protest when one of them stuck his weapon into Vadim's back as soon as the golden eagle had turned away.

Gregory, Volcan and Vinge followed suit, briskly running up the pier back to where they had left Alden and the Prince. Marius and his escorts moved to rejoin the other King's Guard, who as per their orders had stayed in formation, observing the events as they had unfolded but not interfered until ordered to do otherwise.

By now, two large warships had sailed into the channel and now sat at the end of the dock to block the ship's escape, each larger in size then their foe, forming a blockade so it cannot escape. Crews aboard both decks scurried about moving cannons into place ready with others taking up the swivel guns on the forecastle and popdeck. The remaining crew hands lined the starport side of the main deck with rifles aimed at canine inderviduals, awaiting orders to fire. The lycanthrians had no escape now, even if they were to attempt it, for the cannons of the Avolon warships would utterly destroy the three-masted vessel before it could weigh its anchors.

"The Lycanthrians are cornered and are prepared to fight, so we shall give them one!" Marius called to his men. "Let them come to us -cut them down and prepare to storm the ship!"

Gregory took his group aside, knowing there was little else they could do here -the King's Guard would have the matter well in hand if the Lycanthrians would not surrender, especially now that Vadim, their apparent ringleader, was dead.

"Vadim is slain," he said, "but before Marius cut him down, he claimed that it was no he to have killed your parents. Whether or not he was telling the truth we might never know, but justice will soon be done when we take the rest, however few will survive."

"Justice will never be done until the Tsar himself answers for the death of my family," Avogadro retorted. "This is only the beginning."

"Prince Avogadro, you must not give in to vengeance," Gregory advised. "It will only lead to more suffering, not just for yourself, but-"

"C-Captain!" Alden spoke up suddenly, a quake in his tone. "Vadim is... still alive!"

Gregory froze, the colour draining behind his feathered features as those words sank into meaning, a look shared by the Prince as they both turned to look back to the pier where they had previously left the defeated wolf. Only to find he was not defeated. He was on his feet again, chest and armour soaked with the blood that had poured from his slashed throat. His soldiers were now gathering around him, seemingly not bothered by their leader rising from a pool of his own blood.

It was hard to believe; despite what should have been a fatal strike, the wolf still lived. He was not only standing but walking at the front of his forces, abandoning his sword and shield where they had fallen as they followed the pier towards the King's Guard, staring in utter shock.

"Impossible!" Marius shouted in defiance. "I severed your neck! How do you live?!"

"You need more than steel to stop me, avian," Vadim growled, his voice strained from his severed throat, but clearly his vocal cords were still intact as well, though that too should have been impossible.

"Rifles!" Marius commanded, a line of rifle bearing guards taking to the front and lowering themselves to a knee to steady their aim as they angled their bayonet-tipped carbines towards the Lycanthrians, while Halberds were poised over them, creating a wall of spikes, blades and gun barrels between themselves and the wolves. "Fire!"

Smoke and flame belched from the barrels of the guns as the rifle's triggers were pulled, hammers and flint striking their chambered rounds to send them forth.

Blood sprayed from the backs of the front column of the Lycanthrians. Holes opened in their chain armour where the steel plates were not placed, and they collapsed. Even Vadim took two in the chest himself, one pinging off the metal plate over his heart, the other burying itself into his collar above it.

Yet still he didn't fall, a twisted smile forming on his face as a hungry gleam filled his eyes. But he stopped advancing, as did the Lycanthrians behind him, showing no reaction to the fellow wolves lying at their feet or to their leaders seemingly impossible constitution. It occurred then to Volcan, staring on in amazement, that there were far more Lycanthrians coming off the ship than he ever remembered seeing among them.

When the ship had first landed, there had been ten soldiers -he recalled that. He had seen ten at the battle of the south harbour as well, and four had died in the battle -at the time he assumed they were the same ones he had seen the first time. But now he counted dozens among them, a whole platoon of lightly armoured soldiers having seemingly appeared out of the aether now walking at the backs of twelve or so heavily armoured wolves carrying bardiches, and that was not even including the sailors armed with cutlasses, boarding pikes and axes that were at the back of the column. Altogether, they outnumbered the King's Guard twofold at least.

"It is a whole battalion, all confined on one ship?" Alden asked in disbelief.

"Could they have anticipated all along that they would be discovered?" Vinge asked, seemingly thinking aloud. "But if that's the case... Such a small unit could not fight off the entire Security Force alone. At most stall it until..." he fell silent again, now keeping his thoughts to himself.

"What are you on about?!" Avogadro demanded impatiently, following Vinge's speculation.

Vinge looked at him, his voice calm though his expression suspect. "Vadim said the 'attack' is already starting, but this meager force cannot possibly be it. It must be coming from somewhere else."

"You are saying this is a distraction?" Gregory asked, looking at the Ice Phoenix.

"I do not believe so. I believe this contingent of soldiers is only meant to hold your forces at bay so this group can survive as long as possible," said Vinge. "But Vadim is not leading the attack. He is merely a pawn-"

The ice phoenix was interrupted as more gunfire erupted from the pier, snapping all eyes back the wharf where they were introduced to a grotesque sight. They saw Vadim, his form seemingly bloating before them... no, not bloating. Expanding, growing. Before their very eyes, the wounded wolf man was becoming larger, taller. They could hear bones snapping and cracking as they were forced to readjust to suit the new form.

His armour bulged all over his body -torso, neck, arms, all of them growing against the armour until the rings fastening it on the back gave in to the pressure and snapped, sending the coat of plated chainmail to collapse, held on partially by the still intact belt around the waist. It was here they could see the bullet holes of the recent volley in his body, blood soaking his chest and belly in places that surely should have killed him, yet still the wolf stood, his twisted grin only becoming more bestial as his teeth also started to grow to match his expanding head and muzzle.

His shirt and trousers all but exploded off his body, his gauntlets were pushed free of his hands, now becoming larger and tipped by long, powerful black claws. His boots were torn asunder as his padded feet expanded beyond their capacity to contain. The last thing to break was his belt, which finally sent his body armour clattering to the ground to lay among the pieces that had once been his clothing.

Now naked as a newborn cub, Vadim stood tall, his transformation now complete as he rose on a pair of digitigrade legs, extending disproportionately long arms to his sides, his fingers nearly reaching his knees. He stood easily two heads taller than Volcan, a fact that stunned the phoenix as he looked up the terrifying abomination on the pier. The terror from the King's Guard was almost palpable as they stared into the demonic visage of the giant wolf that, moments ago, had not been much larger than most of them.

It was not only Vadim either. To the horror of all, four others amidst the wolves behind him, all from among the heavily armoured ranks, were undergoing similar transformations, ripping off their armour and letting their clothes fall to pieces as they too transformed into the same abominations that Vadim had turned into. Not one of them was as large as him, and had different colour schemes -brown, gray, gray with black highlights, and even a white wolf. They were each unique, yet each was as monstrous as the black giant that stood at their center.

As if the terror had not mounted enough, Vadim did something that sent a shiver up Volcan's back. He spoke, guttural and barely understood through the snarls and growls that rose from his throat. His voice had deepened, and still carried a hint of his native accent. But it was the act itself that was truly frightening speech required a certain intelligence, and despite his beastly form Vadim had not lost any of his own.

"Trrrremble, Avolon!" He growled. "Look upon death that awaits you. Witness Lycanthria's power!"

With that, all five of the monstrous wolves threw back their heads and howled to the air above, their united cry filling the sky with volume beyond any chapel bell or crack of thunder.

The King's Guard line visibly recoiled with the cry, and even without orders, the riflemen started shooting at random. The monsters charged as bullets buried themselves into their flesh, dropping to all fours and in a few wide bounds they hurled themselves at the guards, oblivious or not caring about the halberds that speared them as they tore into the line. Vadim was the last to join, turning his attention first in the direction of Gregory's group.

He snarled a command to the soldiers behind him, and then joined the frenzy as he and the lighter infantry attacked the King's Guard. Volcan saw Marius pushed back into the cluster, and was unsure of the Commander's fate, but he had no time to worry about it as the heavily armoured Lycanthrian soldiers were suddenly charging toward them, howling with bloodthirsty.

"Protect the Prince!" Gregory ordered, ripping his saber from its scabbard.

The Prince! Volcan looked back at the raven, who stared at the chaos unfolding before him. His wings were tensed, his knees shaking and eyes so round in horror they seemed ready to roll out of their sockets. He could not blame him, truthfully. What they had just witnessed was something that would not soon be forgotten by either of them. Men of wolf-kin, transforming into beasts that defied explanation right before their eyes -it certainly fit what Vinge had said before, about warriors that bridged the gap between a sapient anthropian, and a primal form that seemed to come from a forgotten time. Yet Vadim had still been able to speak and speaking required a measure of intelligence.

Primal power, with intelligence -just as Vinge had described them at the prison. A frightening combination indeed.

Turning forward again, Volcan forced himself to align his thoughts. He raised his spear, facing the first of the approaching Lycanthrians. Eight of them -two for every one of them, not counting the Prince if he were to step in. But the phoenix aimed to prevent that.

Feeling the power welling up within him, Volcan's eyes glowed as he tucked his wings in close. He stepped forward, breathed in, and exhaled. The cone of fire erupted from his throat, exiting through his open beak. He turned his head to sweep it across the path of the Lycanthrians, the sight of the fire bringing the wolves to a half to avoid plunging into the inferno. Gregory, not missing the opportunity, drew his pistol and let the fires go out before he shot one of the lead Lycanthrians through the neck. Alden followed the Captain's example, drawing his own pistol and shooting another, his shot going into an arm and making it difficult for the soldier to hold his bardiche.

The wolves charged. Weapons clash. Wood and metal collided in a flurry of attacks as the four fought to protect the Prince. But even Avogadro could not stay out of the fight long -as one of the wolves pushed past his protectors and made for him, the raven was forced to draw his sword and parry the blade of his opponent, retreating a few steps to try and keep the wolf at the length of his colichemarde, but the persistent Lycanthrian soldier chased, snarling as he went for a killing thrust. Avogadro parried again, and the wolf slipped, losing his footing upon slick ground which had miraculously iced over, and fell onto his back. Avogadro saw the mist around Vinge's tucked left hand, and knew the cause immediately. With the wolf down on his back, Avogadro drew his father's pistol, aiming it down at the Lycanthrian.

But then, hesitation. As he stared down the sights of the gun, he found his finger refusing to respond to his command. His brow furrowed, trying to force his finger to pull the trigger of the pistol. The wolf was staring up at him, waiting expectantly for his own execution, but grinning when he saw the Prince hesitating. He moved, and only out of sheer startlement did Avogadro finally pull the trigger. The round buried itself in the wolf's eye, and he slumped back.

Avogadro felt the world around him grow silent for what felt like a moment, as the gravity of what he had just done fell around him. He had killed a man. He had taken a life -it had been an accident, but still he stared down at the corpse in shock, the pistol falling from his hand as his hands shook to his racing heart.

He almost didn't hear the blast.

Volcan, blocking a strike from one of his two opponents, almost didn't manage to defend himself again when he heard the explosion, instinctively looking for the source. But he collected himself in time to stop the next swing of the bardiche, though he heard his spear's shaft splinter under the clumsy block. His second opponent also moved in with their own axe, and this time the spear did break when Volcan blocked the attack, stumbling him back.

Desperate, Volcan coughed a gout of fire into the face of the pursuing wolf, startling them long enough for him to bury the head of his broken spear into their neck. The other one came at him with an overhead chop of their bardiche -he crossed his arms over his head and took the blow to his bracers, much to the wolf's apparent surprise as Volcan held his footing. The phoenix then seized the weapon, twisted and _threw_the wolf through the air. Now armed with the bardiche, Volcan brought it down on the fallen wolf to finish him.

He started to move to help his Captain, or Lieutenant Alden. Both were stuck on the defensive, and though Captain Vinson was expertly defending himself, he was still up against two. Alden seemed less at risk -the kite was swift in his parries and counters, and on of his opponents only had one good arm..

Vinge had already slain one of the two confronting him, their leg frozen to the ground before their neck was sliced open, leaving them half-propped upright with blood flowing over the ice. The other wolf was easily held at bay, and Volcan found himself momentarily mesmerized by Vinge's excellent swordsmanship. His blocks and parries had near-perfect timing, leaving no exploitable gaps in his defenses while his opponent struck at him with their curved blade.

But as Volcan started to go to help Gregory, he heard multiple cries behind him, and looked back to see a column of Avolon Security patrolmen charging to their assistance. He could not help but smile as they approached, hurrying around to flank the Lycanthrians and quickly cut them down.

Gregory, panting for breath, backed out of the skirmish and turned to Volcan. "Corporal, those explosions! Did you hear them?"

"I did, Captain," Volcan replied.

"Get airborne -find out what's happening!" Gregory ordered, noticing the Prince standing shocked over the body of the soldier he'd slain and moving to stand with him.

"Yes, sir!" Volcan replied without hesitation, opening his wings and making a mighty leap into the air.

Beating his wings heavily, Volcan climbed over the height of the city rooftops, and lifted off his helmet to free his peripheral vision as he did a quick sweep over the rooftops with his eyes.

That was when he saw the smoke. Eastward, in the Gardens District, a plume of smoke and dust was climbing from the middle of the district. A fire? No sooner did he think that did he hear another explosion, and shortly after, he saw another plume of dust climb into the air following a black projectile dropping out of the air. He waited to see a third, and this time caught the orange flash from the woods beyond the city's inner walls around the Gardens.

Mortars.

The city was being bombarded... from _inside_the island's great wall!

Volcan turned and all but fell into a dive as he descended toward ground again. He saw the skirmish raging on below, and saw the Captain over by the Prince, trying to console him with Vinge and Alden standing watch. Both looked up sharply as Volcan came down hard, nearly crashing on the pavement in his haste to land and run over to the Captain.

"Captain! Avolon is under attack!" Volcan called as he ran over. "Mortars are bombarding the Gardens District from the forest outside the city!"

Alden blanched, his expression matching his alarm at the news. "Impossible! How did they get onto the isle?!"

"That question will have to wait," stated Gregory. "Alden, get to Dandolo Tower -tell the wizards to light the beacon! We must summon the wartime reserves!" He looked at Vinge. "I would ask you to accompany him -the enemy may already anticipate this action."

"A wise precaution," Vinge agreed, nodding. "I will go with him."

"Corporal," Gregory turned to Volcan. "You must take the Prince away from here."

"Wha -me?!" Volcan asked. "Why?"

"You're the only one strong enough to carry him in flight!" Gregory snapped. "He's in shock -he won't move! There is no time for anymore questions!" Avogadro, stiff in his arms, offered no response to the exchange around him, sitting unblinking as he stared at the dead wolf lying nearby. "Take him as far away as you can! Now!"

Volcan, forcing himself not to question further, cast aside the bardiche he had taken and promptly moved to the Prince's side, pausing only when he saw the pistol lying at his knees, which he picked up and slipped through his belt, knowing the Prince would want it back. With that, he hoisted Avogadro up in his arms, and stretched out his wings.

"Corporal," Gregory spoke up, Volcan casting a glance over to him. "Good luck. Protect him, and yourself. If you see the chance to do so, fly to Albion -warn the Duke, and beg his assistance on our behalf."

Volcan nodded. Using his wing to make a salute, with his hands occupied by the Prince in his arms, he started for the water, opening his wings wide and beating them as he made his running start. He ignored the howls and cries from the ongoing battle, all of which were pulling at his need to stay and fight with his fellow soldiers, and made a leap as he reached the edge of the shore, wings beating hard to carry him and the Prince into the sky.

Only now did Avogadro seem to snap out of his shocked state when he felt the rush of air around him, and instinctively he clutched onto Volcan's chest for balance, staring down at the waters and ships rushing below. "What? What's going on?" He asked.

"Stay still, your highness!" Volcan bade him as he ascended higher. "I am not accustomed to carrying a passenger!"

Then came another explosion, drawing their eyes back toward the city, where Avogadro beheld the scene of the bombardment for the first time. His yellow eyes widened until it seemed like they would slip free of their sockets as he saw the plumes of smoke and dust climbing into the sky, watching the mortars falling upon the Garden district like a hail of iron, tearing into houses accompanied by the screams of their inhabitants, audible even from where they flew.

"My city..." he said in a breathless whisper. "M-my kingdom..."

With a heavy heart, Volcan forced himself to look away from the carnage being wrought. "We'll be back, sire, I promise you," he told the prince as he flew on, southward over the merchant's channel, toward the closest safe place he could think of...

~~~~~

Garibaldi's Rise was a fortified location -the only one of its kind on Grand Harvest Island. Though its low walls had crumbled over centuries of neglect, the tower itself remained in peak condition, well-maintained and suffering only from the weathering of time itself. Standing several stories higher than Avolon's great walls, the keep had been commissioned decades ago by Prince Garibaldi Lo'Raven, later made King following the death of his brother, King Dandolo Lo'Raven. The keep had been built during a time of political strife between Avolon and the settlers of Albion who had originally hailed from Avolon, built with the intention of spotting an attack from the south.

As the attack never came, the tower was soon abandoned following the coronation of Garibaldi's sister, Queen Elizabeth IV. Garibaldi later married into Albion's royal family and cemented the alliance between the two cities indefinitely, becoming Albion's second Duke. The tower was later repurposed into a training center for the Avolon Wartime Reserves, but when those duties were shifted to the Avolon Academy, the tower was repurposed a second time for the Avolon Security Forces, becoming their barracks, stronghold, and home away from home on the island.

Volcan knew the history of the keep, but it was his first time seeing it in detail -he had spied it from afar and even scouted it for signs of the scattered Ragnarosians might have been using it as a hiding place, but after a short investigation he had determined the tower to be abandoned -with Captain Southgate in hospital and his division still rebuilding itself, and moved on. Now, he was counting on it still being abandoned as he descended toward it with the limp form of Avogadro, still lost in his own shocked mind, draped across his arms.

It should be safe to hide here, the phoenix thought as he landed in the yard, slowly approaching the door. He looked down at Avogrado, seeing the prince staring off into space, his unseeing eyes matching his partially open beak of his stunned state.

"Your highness, I need you to wait here for a moment," he said, moving to the door and gently setting Avogadro down in a sitting position by the door, resting on the grass. "I'm going to try and get us inside."

The raven offered no answer.

Leaving his side, Volcan approached the door to the tower, testing it. It was locked, to no surprise. As Volcan did not possess a key to the tower, he had only one alternative. He stepped back from the door, bracing himself, and charged, shoulder first, into the wooden barrier. He had expected to break the lock and open the doors, as he had a house he'd helped raid on his third month in service when the crew he accompanied had forgotten a door ram.

He underestimated the strength of oak and iron.

Lightning exploded from his shoulder across his whole arm and chest as he hit the door and promptly bounced off it like a child's toy ball. Stifling a moan of agony, he lay on the ground, clutching his aching shoulder, thanking his watchful ancestors that he had not dislocated it.

Slowly, Volcan returned to his feet, still rubbing his shoulder. He began to look along the tower for another way in. His eyes fell on the windows, but each one was too small to crawl through; besides that, he would have to break the glass to do so which would be suspicious to any passersby. Burning the door down was not an option either -though he was confident he could control the fire and not set the whole tower ablaze, the smoke would give away their position -not to mention the sight of a burned door on a tower that was supposed to be deserted would be rather conspicuous to unfriendly adversaries that might come looking for Avogadro -especially if they knew a phoenix was with him.

He eyed the door again, and then looked down at his sword. Could he pry the lock open, or maybe break it? He'd feel better about trying it if he had gloves on. He wished he had kept the bardiche he'd taken from the Lycanthrian he'd slain.

'There has to be some way in,' he thought.

He elevated his gaze towards the crown of the tower. There had to be access to the roof, surely, but did he dare leave the prince alone? He looked at the raven, lost and confused in his own head. 'I guess I'll have to take him up with me,' he thought, and moved to pick up the Prince again.

Suddenly snapping out of his entranced state, Avogadro looked up at Volcan in alarm, and let out a startled cry as he kicked out at the phoenix, his foot slamming between Volcan's legs and sending the phoenix teetering over, grabbing his crotch and moaning in pain.

"Stay away, you...! You..." Avogadro blinked, shaking his head and looking at Volcan in recognition. "Oh, no. Corporal!" He sat up, and crawled over to Volcan's side.

"What the blazes did you do that for?!" Volcan demanded in a strained voice

"I-I'm... Sorry... Th-the sun was at your back," replied Avogadro. "You looked like Vadim for-"

"I look like an abominable wolf monster to you?!" Volcan snapped angrily. "You might consider glasses, your highness!"

Avogadro scowled. "You cannot speak to me like that! I am your prince!"

"And right now, I am your protective escort," Volcan retorted, sitting up shakily and rubbing inside his thigh. "So, I would thank you to not deprive me of my ability to produce offspring while I try to do my job!"

"I tried to tell you that was an accident!" Avogadro shot back, holding his leer for a moment before taking in their surroundings with mild confusion. "where are we?"

"Garibaldi's Rise, the 5th Division's barracks and precinct," answered Volcan as he shakily stood up, annoyed he had been knocked on his backside twice that day. "I brought us here to hide, until it's safe to go back to the city."

"Go back to-?" Avogadro started to ask, but stopped as everything returned to him. He had come out of his shocked state as if waking from a dream, and only now had his mind caught up with the fact that everything had happened as he has experienced it. Vadim's transformation, the city bombardment, the death of his parents... all of which he had experienced from behind a red veil of anger starting from the latter.

It was true... all of it. His parents were gone, the murderer none other than the very guests that had visited his home daily, and all to prepare for an attack on his city.

The prince shot to his feet so briskly, Volcan tensed, as if expecting an attack. Avogadro ignored it and turned his gaze northwards. "We have to go back!" He exclaimed.

"What? Have you gone daft?" Volcan demanded.

"My city is under attack!" Avogadro protested. "I should be there, leading the defense! Not hiding out here like a coward!"

"Surviving does not make you a coward, Prince Avogadro," Volcan returned. "My Captain ordered me to take you out of the city and keep you safe."

The Prince reeled on him. "And now I am commanding you to accompany me back!"

"But it's too dangerous to take you there now! Vadim is still out there, and he will be looking for you!" Volcan reasoned. "I don't know if there is even a way to kill him, and now there's four more of them!"

"Well there has to be some way to kill him! He can't be invincible!"

"We saw him take a slash to the throat from Commander Marius. I saw him take multiple gunshots to vital organs, and yet still he walks! If you know something I do not, my Prince," he used the title derisively, "then I would honoured if you would enlighten me!"

Avogadro's eyes narrowed with anger. "You _dare_speak to me like that?! I could have you flogged for such insolence!"

"If it means accomplishing my mission, then so be it," Volcan returned. "But unless you know how to kill Vadim, the only way you are leaving this tower is through me."

"You will stand aside as I command it, as your king!"

"You are not the king yet, and until you are, I have no obligation to follow your orders!"

It seemed Volcan had pushed the prince a step too far. Before his eyes, Avogadro drew forth his sword, holding it threateningly to Volcan's chest as his expression contorted with rage. "You will do as I say!" He squarked.

Instinctively, Volcan backhanded the sword away with his bracer, and started to reach for his own blade, but hesitated. This was the Prince! How could he even think to draw his blade on a member of the royal family? He had to force himself to take his hand away from his sword as Avogadro screamed and thrust at him again, which the phoenix once more had to backhand away with his bracer.

With the corvid enraged in anger squawking as he swung wildly at the phoenix with force and intent only to be deflected by the more practiced avian. Avogadro feinted a swing, forcing Volcan to put up his arm to block it, only for the raven to redirect the attack into another thrust, piercing Volcan's shoulder with the narrow point. Volcan gasped as he felt the bite, and his anger surged forth. His hands grasped the length of the blade, ignoring the edges as they dug into his hand while he pulled it out of his shoulder, and then turned his wrist, bending the sword as easily as though it were tin, shocking the prince before him with his sudden display of strength.

With that, Volcan seized the prince by the collar of his jacket, swinging him around as easily as if the prince were nothing more than a rag doll and pinning him against the side of the tower, his bent and deformed colichemarde clattering to the ground as the phoenix glared at him with daggers in his eyes

"Enough!" Volcan said in a deep, growling voice, embers erupting from his wings as he spoke. "If you were not the prince, I'd knock you out right-!"

"Do you think I asked to be the prince?!" Avogadro interrupted, his voice breaking.

"You certainly take to the role of being demanding and entitled!" Volcan shot back. "Not to mention stupid!"

Avogadro looked at his captor in shock for a second before he snapped his arm up to strike Volcan in the face, only to recoil with a squawk as his hand struck the solid metal of the helmet's cheekflap. He shook his hand, cursing, and Volcan snorted. "I rest my case."

Slowly, Volcan lowered Avogadro to his feet again, but even as he let go of him, Avogadro continued to descend, dropping to his knees and sobbing. Volcan stared down at him, his scowl not lessening even as he heard the prince crying, his annoyed mind chalking it up as a spoiled brat not getting his way...

Which is why it surprised him when Avogadro spoke again, sobered up from his rage by the phoenixes' retaliation against him, and speaking in a barely audible tone. "Why, Corporal?" He asked, and Volcan had to lean closer to hear him. "Why did all of this happen?"

"Why did what happen?" Volcan asked, his tone still carrying his frustration.

"Everything!" Avogadro shouted, throwing out his arms. "The Ragnarosians, the Lycanthrians, my parents murdered, my city being bombarded! Why did this have to happen?!" He beat his fists against the ground. "Am I being punished for something I did? Is that why my entire world is crumbling to pieces around me?! If this is what it meant to be the heir to a throne, I should have been born another time! Another person!"

Tears were falling from his eyes as he spoke, his long nails digging into his hands as he clenched his fists tighter. "Why did this have to happen?" He sobbed. "I have tried always to be a fair prince, in hopes that one day I could become Avolon's greatest king. Kind, just, brave... and yet all along I never knew that meant I would have to face the day my parents would be murd-" His voice broke with another sob, and he could

Volcan's expression softened as he heard Avogadro's words. The veil of anger and revenge he had seen on him since they had left the palace now lost, replaced by what had been held back by that dam of rage. A lonely, frightened boy who had had everything he had ever known, ever loved, ripped away from him.

It dawned on Volcan at that moment that all the events, from his battle with the Ragnarosian stragglers, to finding Avogadro at the barracks, to meeting Commander Marius, learning of the Lycanthrian's deceit and murder of the king, and to that moment... It had all happened within the span of a single day, the day that Avogadro's life had changed... the day that marked when his life would change.

All within a single day... It was only then Volcan realized how exhausted he really was. The adrenaline had run its course through his system and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy with fatigue. It took some effort for Volcan to even reach up with his hands to lift off his helmet, freeing his feathers to the open air and feeling them light up in response to being introduced to the sun and atmosphere again after hours of confinement in the conical helmet.

He turned his gaze westward, deliberating on Avogadro's words for a moment before speaking. "I have no answer to offer you," he said. "I learned long ago that we can't choose what roles we are born into. You did not choose to become the prince of Avolon, and I did not choose to become the son of the ambassador between her and the MacAingeal, to be raised in a city that sees me as grenade with a lit fuse, waiting to detonate. Fate chooses what we are born as, and we can do little to control that."

"But in that time, I also learned," Volcan went on, "even if we can't pick who we're born as, we can choose what we do with the roles given to us. My mother was the one who helped me get into the academy for the Avolon Security Forces, but it was I who chose to stay with it, because I wanted to make something out of my existence. Be more than just an outcast. I don't know if I've succeeded or not, but it's what I chose to do."

"But what do I do now?" Avogadro asked, pleadingly. "I'm losing everything I've ever known. I must protect it! If Avolon falls... then what am I? A Prince of nothing?"

"Avolon won't fall," Volcan stated. "Because you will survive, and we're going to get help." He turned to Avogadro then. "But first, we need to rest. We can't fly over the channel as tired as we are. First, we need to get into this bloody tower."

Avogadro wiped the tears from his eyes, looking up at Volcan and then turning his gaze to the tower. "Have you found a way in?"

"I was going to fly up to the top and see if I can get in through the roof hatch."

"Al-Alright," said Avogadro as he stood again. "I'll... I'll wait here, by the door."

"I certainly hope so," returned Volcan as he set his helmet on the ground, seeing no need to put it back on, and walked over to the tower wall.

He dug his claws in between the stone and started to lift himself up, beating his wings to propel himself with each pull of his talons as he scaled the wall. He wasn't climbing it in the traditional sense, more a combination of flight and climbing to scale it, until finally he shot over the crown of the tower, over the crenallations and onto the roof. He took in a breath, replacing the air lost from his lungs in the strenuous ascent -flying would've been easier, but it would have been more obvious. Catching his breath, he then sought the roof hatch. It was easy to spot, but he was not as sure of being able to get into it as he had previously been -the hatch had no outside handle, and was clearly reinforced from the other side as when he tapped on it with his hand,barely hearing the echo.

He stomped on the door, hard, and stomped repeatedly until his leg was numb with the effort. He rubbed his thigh, frustrated, and then decided to try his sword. He drew the blade forth, angling it down and thrusting it between the door and its frame with all his strength. It screeched in protest as itslid over iron, his jaw twisting in response to the sound, as he tried to pry it open. He felt his sword bend as the door lifted and stopped.

'Last thing I need is for my only weapon to break,' he thought, pulling it along the seam until he found the lock. Pulling the sword free, he angled it to where the lock was, and thrust again.

The sword stopped, and he stumbled, pulling it free again and groaning as he saw the tip of his blade had been dulled by the attempt. "No entering from up here, either," he thought aloud. "There _has_to be some way I can get through."

He returned his sword to its scabbard and considered his options. Even with his supernatural strength there was not a chance he could rip the door open with his bare hands. If he could not stomp through the wood or break the lock, simple strength was not going to be enough this time. The lock was probably made of wrought iron, which although was not as strong as steel, it did not bend like steel.

But it still had to be heated to be shaped by a blacksmith...

Having an idea, he knelt before the trap door, peering between the crack. Iron banding around the door and the frame created a tight seam but providing him with exactly what he needed. He placed his hands against the iron, and channeled his power through his arms and into his hands, casting a flameless heat into the metal.

Slowly, he saw the metal begin to change in hue, becoming red with heat. He channeled more and more heat into the iron until it was glowing red hot. He smelled the hot iron, and could feel the wood beneath it already beginning to smolder. When the metal was glowing hot, he pulled back his left hand and pressed his fingernail into it. As easily as if the iron were bread dough, his talon sank into the heated metal, coating his finger in molten iron.

He smiled at his plan's success. Pushing his fingers into the seam -one so hot it'd have burned through the hands of anyone not born of fire like himself, the iron parted around his hands. It was narrow, but it was enough, pushing until he felt the bolt that held the door's lock in place, though only two of his fingers could reach it.

It was enough for what he needed. He heated the metal bar and continued testing the trapdoor until finally, it opened when the bar broke, flying out of his hand and slamming onto the roof flinging molten iron all about, leaving a very deformed door lying on the stone rooftop.

"I will have to apologize to Captain Southgate later," he thought aloud as he rose back to his feet, flung the excess iron from his fingers and descended into the tower.

Volcan did not take time to search the rooms until after he made it to the bottom of the tower, crossing the entry hall from the spiral stairwell until he reached the main entrance. Sliding the bolt aside, he opened it, and Avogadro stepped into the tower.

"Did I smell something burning up there?" He asked, pointing up at the ceiling with an outstretched finger.

"I had to be creative with getting inside," Volcan answered. "Do not touch the door or frame if you go up there. It is very likely you will find yourself bonded to hot metal."

The prince arched a brow, but said nothing about it as he surveyed the room, taking in the interior of the tower, though on the first level there was not much to see. The entryway was a single, short corridor with the stairs leading up to the left, a door directly in front, and more stairs leading down on the right. Looking up he saw a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its candles long since burned away, and on the wall above the door was a portrait of an avianic form somewhat faded with time, but he knew it well. Prince Garibaldi, one of his forebears and the namesake of the tower.

Walking ahead to the door, he opened it, and found himself in a wide room filled with bunk beds lining the walls on either side, with two more rows in between. A quick count showed each row was meant to accommodate twelve. Some beds were unmade, covers thrown aside as their occupants hastily got out of bed, he assumed in the call to arms during the Ragnarosian attack.

"This is where the security forces would sleep?" He asked with chagrin. "It seems so... confined." He did not want to mention that this whole room, designed to fit forty-eight troopers, was not even as large as his personal chamber back at the palace.

"For men who live too far from home to go back every day, yes," replied Volcan. "This whole tower was repurposed to serve as a barracks, but unlike myself the men stationed here cannot just walk home through streets illuminated by oil lamps each night. They would have to fly across the channel in pitch blackness, and only Owls are capable of navigating in the dark. Not to mention a long day of patrols can leave one quite fatigued."

Avogadro grimaced, not finding these conditions at all proper and wondering why the city would not have funded better accommodations for its protectors. But then he recalled who held fiefdom over the island -Lord Ulysses Endicott. A man not well-known for being open with his coin purse.

Shaking his head, he turned to look at Volcan. "Is there an armory here?"

"On the lower level, I would guess," replied Volcan.

"Let us go see," the raven suggested, making for the stairs leading down. "I find myself once again in need of a new sword." He cast a glance at Volcan, smiling wryly.

"You tried to stick me with it," Volcan reminded him.

"Did I not apologize?"

"For kicking me, yes. Not for this," he pointed at the puncture just under the plate covering his shoulder, which thankfully did not bother him too much -it seemed the blade had not pierced deep enough to hit anything serious. Nevertheless it was a lasting reminder that Avogadro had wounded him -he acknowledged it was done in a fit of anger and desperation but it did not mean he had forgotten it.

Avogadro sighed, and turned to him, his expression softening to a sympathetic gaze. "I am sorry, corporal," he said solemnly. "It was wrong of me to lash out at you like that."

Volcan felt himself relax slightly at the Prince's apology, and gave him a nod. "Thank you," he returned. "And I do apologize for your sword too."

Avogadro shrugged. "It's just a sword. They can be replaced," he said, turning to the stairs again. "Let us go select one, shall we?"

Volcan nodded, and started to follow him, but stopped, turning to look at the exit. He quickly went to lock it, sliding the bolt into place and securing the latch that held it, before he turned and followed Avogadro down the steps to the basement level.

The basement was dark, and Volcan had to look for a light source, finding a wall sconce with a mounted oil lamp. Lighting it, light filled the bottom of the stairs and illuminated the short hallway beyond. The first door they passed was a holding cell with a single bed, currently vacant. Two doors led into the same windowless room, filled with stacks of crates in one corner and what seemed to be a small kitchen in the other, a hole in the wall leading to a makeshift chimney.

Beyond the last door, they saw a discolouration in the wall which seemed to indicate a door had once been in that part of the wall but was removed and sealed off, and seemed to lead to the same room like with the kitchen. Volcan to suspect this whole floor used to be a dungeon but was renovated, five cells becoming one while the walls between them were knocked down in favour of creating the kitchen and armory.

It seemed foolish to keep the armory next door to a holding cell where an escapee could arm himself and escape, until he saw the door, a barrier of solid oak and banded with iron like the front entrance to the tower, and secured by a thick iron padlock that he doubted he could break with anything short of a pickaxe. No escapee would have a prayer of entering this armory without the key or a set of high-quality lock picking tools.

"Can you melt this lock, get us inside" Avogadro asked, pointing at the padlock.

Volcan raised his hand to do just that, channeling energy through his body to his palm, but as his fingers hovered near the lock, he stopped, a thought running through his head and prompting him to pull his hand away hurriedly.

"Can't risk it," replied Volcan, shaking his head. "Captain Southgate has access to the anti-ship cannons on the south wall, many of which are near to this tower." At Avogadro's look, seeing the prince not making the connection, Volcan went on. "He might be keeping gunpowder and munitions in here. One splash of molten metal in the wrong place, and we'll be blasted to the moon."

That, the prince understood. "What should we do then?"

"We will go up to the offices. If we can find the requisition officer's room, maybe he left the key," suggested Volcan. "It's possible Captain Southgate may have a spare key for himself as well. We can check his office."

Avogadro nodded in agreement and followed Volcan as they went back to the stairs, ascending back to the main level and heading across to the stairwell past the entrance.

The second and third floor of the tower led to more guardrooms in similar states as the one on the bottom level, hastily deserted by previous occupants. The fourth was divided into two rooms, both with doors marked with the ranking symbol of lieutenants -three wide stripes and a ring resting above them. One was locked, the other was not. Avogadro searched the unlocked quarter while Volcan, uttering an apology, smashed the lock to the other room and stepped inside.

He had never seen what a lieutenant's room was like before. Like himself, Lieutenant Alden lived only a short walk away from his work, and did not need to live in the barracks -nor did any of the city guardsmen. The room was like a study, but with a single cot in the corner. The rest consisted of a desk, a dresser, and a lantern hanging from a hook on the wall by the door.

He searched the desk, and the strongbox beneath it, which seemed to be filled with what he assumed were personal effects of the officer -trinkets, a small purse of coins and a locket. He left the treasures alone -what right did he have, taking those? Shutting the box and pushing it back under the desk, he rose back to his feet and left the room.

"Find it?" Avogadro asked as he stepped out of the other room seconds after Volcan returned to the hall.

"No," he replied. "That just leaves the captain's room."

"Top floor, then."

"Only one left now."

Upon ascending the last flight of stairs before the rooftop hatch, which still carried the smell of molten iron as they climbed, they passed under the roof access to the only door on that level. Much to their surprise, they found it unlocked, partially open even. It seemed odd that Captain Southgate would have so casually left his own quarters freely accessible, but then he remembered that the Captain had been in the hospital for some time now. It seemed reasonable to assume he did not expect his barracks to sit vacant for so long. He had secured the building and at the time that had seemed enough.

'At least I don't have to break another door,' thought the phoenix as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He had barely gone three steps into the room when he heard the rush of air from the open roof access, and tensed when he heard the thump of something landing on the roof.

"Volcan," Avogadro whispered.

"I heard it," the phoenix returned, hand on his sword as he turned to the access.

Avogadro looked at him, and then his eyes lowered to Volcan's waist. "My pistol. You have my pistol!" He hissed.

Volcan, remembering that he had picked up the firearm before leaving the north harbour, hurriedly plucked it from his belt and handed it to the Prince. "Make sure you keep your eyes open if you have to shoot," he teased.

"I know how to shoot, you smartass," the prince retorted.

"Smartass? Not a word I expected from royalty," the phoenix remarked, then turned his eyes forward again as a shadow fell over the doorway, silencing any planned retort from the Prince as he chambered a round into his pistol and held it at the ready.

The shadow grew, the blotch of darkness slowly creeping down the stairs. The rasp of a sword being drawn stood Volcan's neck feathers on end, tightening his grip on his own blade. Hish earth started to beat faster as he prepared himself for a fight...

A talon touched down upon the stairs, followed by a second. Not a Lycanthrian, but there had been avians among the Ragnarosian raiders, forcing him to keep his guard up as the owner of the talons descended the stairs into the tower.

Only when Volcan saw the Avolon uniform did he relax, motioning for the Prince to lower his weapon. He started to open his beak to speak, only to have it hanging open when he saw the light-brown feathered features of the intruder, with a red diamond spot on his forehead and throat, and hazel brown eyes that peered down the stairs.

"Pavan?" he exclaimed.

The avian jumped with such a start, his head collided with the ceiling. He groaned, laying a hand over his head as he turned to face the two. "Volcan?!"

Volcan turned his sword and pushed it back into the sheath, the prince lowered his pistol after hearing the two refer to each other by name.

"Bloody hells in a handbasket, man!" Pavan exclaimed as he leapt off the stairs, stuffing his sword back into its sheath as he ran up to the larger phoenix, embracing him in a fit of joy before pulling back from him. "Where have you been- what're you doing here?"

"It is a _long_story," Avogadro added as he slid his pistol into a holster in his coat.

Pavan turned to him, and his expression blanched as he immediately recognized the raven, and began to mumble incoherently, slowly turning back to Volcan again. "I have many questions. But let us start with the obvious -what is the Prince doing here?!" His shift in tone was so sudden that Avogadro jumped slightly. Volcan though was more accustomed to his friend's outbursts, and only blinked.

"As he said, it is a long story," replied Volcan. "What are you doing here, Pavan? This isn't a scout barracks."

"It's not a 1st Division Barracks either," Pavan pointed out in a cocky tone, but his smile faded under Volcan's stare. "I was patrolling. The Scout Regiment has been helping the divisions out here track down the Ragnarosians. I was flying overhead and I saw the hatch open, so I came down to have a look."

"By yourself?" Avogadro asked incredulously. "If Volcan and I had been Ragnarosian warriors, we could have struck you down before you saw us. It was to my understanding that the scouts travelled in pairs."

"We do, but my partner is still recovering from our first encounter with the ice phoenix that tried to make us into icy meat skewers," replied Pavan, jabbing his thumb against his chest as he went on. "Besides, I fly faster than any of the scouts. I can cover more ground on my own."

"Nevertheless, it was reckless, coming in here alone if you thought there might be hostiles," Volcan lightly scolded. "But it doesn't matter. Why haven't you returned to the city. Didn't you see the beacon?"

"The Dandolo Tower beacon?" Pavan asked. "What about it?"

"You _do_know what the beacon means right, that the city is at war?" Volcan asked.

"When it's lit, yes," countered Pavan.

Volcan felt his heart skip a beat. "...what?"

"Am I missing something?" Pavan asked.

But his only answer was Volcan charging to the stairs pushing him aside before he strode up to the top, the Prince and Scout calling after him.

Volcan emerged from the rooftop hatch and ran over to the north face of the tower, turning his eyes toward Avolon, searching for the sign of the massive pyre atop Dandolo Tower -the tallest structure in Avolon, but he did not see the flames. Had Lieutenant Alden and Vinge failed? His pupils narrowed as he focused his vision, zeroing in upon the tower with his telescopic eyes.

The top portion of the tower was missing. The beacon was no longer there, a piece of the tower having crumbled away. He could see smoke rising from the jagged edges of the break, signs that an explosion had been the source of the missing portion of the tower.

"Volcan, what is happening?" He heard Avogadro speaking beside him. "Where is the beacon? I cannot see it."

"It's... gone," replied Volcan. "The top part of the tower is collapsed -the beacon with it. It must've been hit by a mortar."

"The wartime reserves haven't been summoned?" Avogadro asked. "How could the enemy even know to hit it?"

"Vadim must've been gathering intelligence on us this whole time," replied Volcan. "He must have discovered the purpose of the beacon, but-"

"But how did he get it to the Lycanthrian army?" Avogadro cut him off. "The last time we saw him, he was still engaged at the harbour -how did he get to them so quickly?"

Volcan did not voice his thoughts on the matter, but his mind drifted back to the disappearance of Asya Boleslav during the confrontation at the harbour, slipping away in the chaos of the clash. 'Could she have been the one?' He wondered, or had fate decreed the Avolonians doomed to die and let a stray mortar collide with the tower? Either way, if the beacon had not been lit in time, the wartime reserves would never have made it to the Wartime Arsenal to arm themselves -most of the reserves kept their own weapons had home, but armour and heavier armaments would only be available at the arsenal. Protected at all times by the King's Guard, none were permitted access, not even themselves, unless the beacon had been lit.

"All we can do is hope that the beacon was lit, long enough for the reserves to respond, if only to arm themselves," said Volcan, hoping he sounded as sure of his words as he wanted the two with him to be.

Of course, he was then reminded that one of them was no up to speed. "Volcan, I am very lost," stated Pavan. "What is happening?"

Volcan let out a long sigh, and turned to Pavan to begin explaining, when he felt Avogadro touch his arm. "Keep searching for the armoury key. I will tell him," he offered.

Volcan nodded in thanks to the Prince, and started for the stairwell to descend into the tower, while Avogadro moved to Pavan's side. The wind phoenix started to bow, but Avogadro motioned with his hand for him to refrain from doing so. "Pavan, was it?" He asked, receiving a nod in response. "Let us find a place to sit down in the tower. This will be a lot to take all at once."

Avogadro made the recount of the day's events as clear and coherent as he could manage, fighting his way through the emotions that stirred within him as they threatened to return with the force of a tsunami and overwhelm him. It did not make the recount any less difficult for him, and even Pavan could see it, the normally energetic and hyperactive wind phoenix, unable to sit still for any given amount of time, found his rambunctiousness tamed as he listened to the Prince's explanation.

Meanwhile, Volcan's search of the captain's office yielded promising results, as he found on the bookshelf a strongbox with a key left beside it. The key was too small to be for the armoury door, but it opened the strongbox, inside of which he found what he was certain was what he was looking for -a thick key of solid brass.

As he stepped out of the office and made for the stairs heading down, Avogadro's had reached the march to the harbour, of the fifty strong King's Guard who had gathered to confront the Lycanthrians. The fire phoenix was long gone by the time Avogadro revealed the truth about Vadim's bestial form, and ended the story telling of their fleeing of the city while the Garden District was being bombarded by mortars.

Pavan swallowed hard as Avogadro concluded the tale. "I think I feel ill," he said, a hand over his stomach. "The king is dead... the Lycanthrians are invading... All of this, happening now?" He put his head in his hands. "I have only been a scout for a week. I never thought I'd see a full-blown war so soon!"

"Nor I, scout," agreed Avogadro.

"What will you do, your highness?"

"The only thing I can think of," he replied, clenching his hands together in front of him and resting his beak atop it. "I will go to Albion, seek help from my father's ally, the Duke, and then I will return to liberate my city."

Pavan nodded. It sounded as good a plan as any to him.

The heard Volcan coming back up the stairs, and looked up as the phoenix emerged, carrying a sword between his hands, protectively lodged within a scabbard. "I found this in the evidence locker," he said as he walked over to Avogadro and offered it to him. "See if it suits you."

Avogadro stood from his chair, accepting the sword and drawing it slowly from the sheath to study the blade. It was another Colichemarde, like his own sword -albeit far less decorative as it lacked the gold and ivory inlays of his personal sword now lying broken outside, but as he tested it in his hand he found the balance was comparable to his own blade.

"These are not standard in Avolon's forces -more something the nobles carry for status and self-defense. Why would it be in the armoury here?" Avogadro asked.

"They can still be purchased from a smithy, and it was in the evidence locker. Probably confiscated from a renegade," Volcan offered.

Avogadro accepted the answer as he tested the sword, swinging and thrusting with it until he was satisfied, and returned it to its sheath as he looked back to Volcan. He was about to thank the phoenix, when he noticed that heavy breathing coming from him, seeing his chest swelling and receding as the phoenix gathered air into his lungs.

"Are you alright?" Avogadro asked, looking up into Volcan's eyes. Even he could see the weariness on the Phoenix's expression, the slump of his shoulders and the slight slouch to his posture -the hue of his feathers even seemed to have decreased. These were all details the unobservant might miss, but not he. Volcan was fatigued, and his body was showing it.

Yet the phoenix tried to dodge the issue. "I am fine. It was just a long climb up the stairs is all."

"Corporal," Avogadro said with a tone that showed he did not appreciate being lied to as he crossed his arms. "Are you tired?"

Volcan hesitated to answer, but soon nodded. "Yes... and quite hungry too," he admitted. "I have not eaten since dawn, and I have been in two battles since then." He put his hand over his eyes, rubbing his heavy eyelids gently.

At his admittance it occurred to Avogadro that he too felt quite tired and hungry. He had not slept in nearly a full day, in fact -he had only rested a few hours before the attack in the palace had woken him. So much had happened in that time, he was surprised he did not feel more tired. He knew that the best thing he could do for himself and for this phoenix who had been charged with his protection was to sleep, so that Volcan could get some rest as well.

"Very well. Perhaps some rest will do us some good, but we cannot both sleep," he turned to Pavan. "Scout... Pavan," he began, mildly embarrassed he had not thought to ask Pavan his family name. "Would you be willing to keep watch for us while we rest?"

"Should I not be heading back to the city?" Pavan asked. "If the beacon was lit..."

"I will vouch for you," promised Avogadro. "Surely the Scout Captain will not begrudge you taking on a task for the Prince?"

"N-No... I suppose not," agreed Pavan. "If it helps Volcan -and you, of course, sire, to get some rest, then yes -I will keep watch for you."

Avogadro nodded in appreciation.

"Just try not to let your restlessness interfere," Volcan teased.

"Volcan!" Pavan protested, flushing with embarrassment. "In front of the Prince! Couldn't you spare me some dignity?!"

Avogadro could not help himself... he had to lean back his head and laugh at the silliness of the two, and that laugh alone brought him a little, much needed comfort.

After dining on some of the preserved food stored in the basement, consisting of dried fruit and meats, Avogadro and Volcan rested in the guard room on the third floor of the tower, with Pavan keeping watch from the window on looking out to the front of the tower. The two sleepers picked a corner for themselves, to have what privacy they could. They kept a light off in the room so as not to give away their position in the tower. Which was fine -there was plenty of light from the moon that night.

It took Avogadro some time to make himself comfortable on the straw-filled mattress, so accustomed to the luxuries of his home. Soon exhaustion won out over comfort, and the Prince was sleeping soundly within the hour, though his dreams were far from restful, revisiting the events of the day and making him groan and mutter in his sleep. (Would Avory not be sleeping in the Captain's bed instead?)

Pavan woke Volcan late into the night when he started to nod off, letting him know it was his turn for watch. The phoenix rose from his bed, picking up his sword and taking Pavan's place all while rubbing the sleep from his own eyes and keeping the blade propped upon the tip of the scabbard before him.

Tomorrow, they planned to travel to Albion. It would be a long flight, and perilous -to cross the sea to the mainland on wing power alone was difficult even for the most fit-bodied avians. But they did not have a ship, nor any means to access one with a crew -perish the thought of trying to operate the vessel themselves. With their lack of knowledge they would almost certainly run it aground -provided they could get beyond the sea wall first, without becoming a colourful stain on the stone barrier.

Unfortunately, their trek would not be so simple as flying over the walls and turning their courses south, for something awaited them when they climbed to the top of the tower that morning to prepare to make their leave...

Towering white sails dotted the horizon beyond the range of the wall-mounted artillery, behind the shores of the small but largely inhospitable Sandy Island. But the ships were not paced beyond the eyesight of avians -massive vessels, four-masted or less, rested in formation around Avolon for as far and wide as Volcan could see, with a denser concentration to the east where they could hear cannonfire filling the air. The ships were spaced strategically apart, within supporting range of one another, smaller single-mast vessels positioned between them or patrolling along their flanks.

A blockade. Volcan could hardly believe what he was seeing -a full blockade, having appeared in the middle the night? His mind reeled at the very thought -it didn't seem possible! How could a whole fleet have arrived so quickly, let alone position itself to bar all access to or from the island? He looked at Avogadro and could see a similar question running through his own mind -warrior by trade or not, the prince was logical and calculated, and even to him this seemed an impossibility.

Pavan, after leaving to reconnaissance the gunfire in the east, returned moments later and reported his findings, looking quite disturbed. "The Avolon Navy is engaging the blockade in the east," he explained. "But they're trapped in the strait between the islands and can't get their full force out -they're boxed in. They're receiving some fire support from Guardian Island, but the wall guns above the shipyard aren't firing, and I could see Lycanthrians setting up gun emplacements on the picket islands."

"If the navy can't get out to maneuver, they won't be able to break this blockade," said Volcan. "The navy has only one way out -easy to defend from invading forces, but it's a double-edged sword if someone blocks the only access to the open ocean. With the city surrounded, the Admiralty can't send word to our allies via ship."

"How... how long could they have been planning this?" Avogadro asked, his hands clenched tightly upon the edge of the parapet before him. "How could we have been caught so blind? Spies and assassins within our city, sowing disorder while their army and navy moved to attack. Did they orchestrate the Ragnarosian attack as well?"

"I don't think so," Volcan answered, shaking his head. "I can't see Njall of the Red Winter making an alliance with anyone else -he'd sooner take their city for himself, if what my family says about him is true. But given their proximity to one another I have to wonder how the two fleets didn't run across each other while travelling here. It hasn't been long since the first arrived."

However much his logical mind still struggled with the prospect, Avogadro forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. "That is a mystery we'll have to solve later," stated the prince with unexpected firmness in his tone. "Let us fly over this blockade and make all haste to Albion. Only our allies can help us now."

Maybe not, thought Volcan. Although the Duke could certainly turn the tide in their favour -more so if they could also get word to Atlas in the west and enlist their help as well, they were not the only ones who might be able to help them... He turned his gaze northwest as he thought this. Toward the peninsula...

Did he dare ask his uncle to take the clan to war, to save Avolon?

"Volcan?"

The phoenix snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Pavan speak up, turning to him. "Sorry?" He asked.

"I asked what you think -what should we do?" inquired Pavan, eyeing him with mild concern. "It is a long way to the mainland -can we even fly that far?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not a captain," countered Volcan.

"Well, you're a corporal so, technically that makes you the highest rank here."

"I'm pretty sure he outranks me," returned Volcan, pointing at Avogadro.

"Not exactly," Avogadro cut in. "I can command the King's Guard, but the Avolon Security Forces are not required to take orders from me. As per city defense law section thirteen item ninety-two, passed by my grandmother Queen Elizabeth IV, the Avolon Security Forces take orders from their own ranks, from the Commander of the King's Guard, or directly from the King or Queen. The Prince, and the Aristocracy, hold no authority over you unless explicitly directed by the city marshall or the King."

Pavan blinked at the Prince. "I do not know what baffles me more -that you can remember all of that or that you just ceded power to Volcan."

Avogadro rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Being the heir to throne does not mean I have to be a bigot," he remarked sourly. "So, I also ask your thoughts, Volcan. What is it you think we should do?"

With a sigh, the phoenix answered. "I don't see much else we can do," he answered. "Avolon will be hard-pressed to win this fight on her own with the royal navy trapped behind a blockade. We need help, and right now the three of us stand a better chance of gaining it than anyone else. But let's fly high, just in case -when the ambassador first arrived I saw rifles in the hands of some of her sailors. We have to assume the sailors on these ships may carry them as well."

"Indeed. We would not want to become target practice," agreed Avogadro. "How high do we need to go?"

"Well... an Avolon carbine has a maximum range of about five hundred and twenty yards," said Volcan. "I don't imagine the Lycanthrian rifle being able to shoot much further, especially not upward, so if we go up to about five hundred meters we should be more than safe enough."

Avogadro nodded, seeing no flaws with the plan. "Let us take wing then, to Albion."

One after another, following a running start, the three avians took flight and started their ascent, making wide circles so as not to venture too far beyond the wall and risk entering weapon range of the Lycanthrian ships as they climbed higher into the air. It was taxing, working up to such altitude, but if it would get them over the blockade it would be effort well spent.

"We should be high enough now -let's go!" Volcan called out to them as they reached the proper altitude.

With the wind rushing around them, passing under their wings and tails the three avians rode the currents over the island and over the water. Flying became noticeably more difficult when they passed over the sea, as the thermal radiation that would provide additional lift over land abated, but they kept their altitude as they began their passage over the ships...

Thwoomp!

_ _ The sound from below was so strange and foreign to them, Volcan barely had time to place it until he saw what seemed to be a black cannonball coming up at them from the deck of the ship below. At first, he thought it might have been a misfired Mortar shot, as nothing else he could think of could gain such altitude. Until...

Crack!

_ _ The ball exploded, scattering into into pieces and stretching out a web of smoky limbs as shards of metal filled the air. Volcan felt searing pain in his leg, side, chest and arm, and reeled in pained response, sending his flight careening out of control. He heard Pavan and Avogadro shouting out to him, but he couldn't answer them, grinding his beak through pain as he started to plummet through the air, struggling to regain control.

'They have a weapon to hit us even this high?!' Volcan's mind screamed in disbelief. 'How is it possible?!'

Managing to land into a glide, Volcan pulled out of his descent, but he had fallen several hundred feet and was still not beyond the range of the blockade. He could already hear more of those strange cannons firing, and looked up in alarm as he saw Pavan and Avogadro descending toward him.

"No! Go back!" He screamed at the top of his lungs looking down as he saw another of the black cannonballs coming up from below. "Don't come down here!"

His warning reached him just in time as he heard another of the cannonballs explode in the air not far away from him. Luck was on his side though, as none of the metal shards found him as he turned his course back toward Avolon's wall, going into a steep dive to gain more speed, ever wary of the foaming waters below and that any moment he could be sent plunging into the depths.

He felt the wind rush around him suddenly, nearly throwing him off course. Looking up toward his friends, he saw Pavan with his arms moving about as though he were trying to push his way through a crowd. But with every thrust of his palm, Volcan saw the detonating cannonballs diverted, their smoke trails leading away from his friends instead of toward them. Relieved that Pavan was able to protect himself from the cannons, he kept flying, ignoring the agony from his chest with each beat of his wings.

He reached the wall, touching down with both feet, and feeling lightning coursing up his wounded leg, forcing him to switch to the other foot for balance. Volcan checked his leg, feeling with his hand until he found the wound, thankfully only a graze. The shards in his side and chest had caught in the fabric of his vest, and he pulled them free -though barely held back a groan of pain when they were extracted from his flesh. The one in his arm was deeper, and he could feel his left arm aching when he tried to move it after extracting the shard.

'Bastards...'

Volcan heard Avogadro and Pavan landing on the wall behind him, and turned to them. He saw Avogadro's distressed look, staring out at the ships in hopeless abandon. "How do we get past them now?"

"Well, that weapon of theirs shot up and detonated, yes? Maybe we can go under its range?" Pavan suggested.

"That would put us in range of their cannons and rifles!" Avogadro protested.

Having a thought, Volcan spoke up. "Maybe... but that doesn't mean they'll be able to hit us," he said. "Or rather," he looked at Pavan. "Hit you."

The wind phoenix blanched, staring at Volcan as though he had just sentenced him to death. "Are you taking the piss?" He demanded.

"Pavan, hear me out," began Volcan. "You're a faster flier than either of us, and a much smaller target than I am. You can get through this blockade and get to Albion faster than you would with Avogadro and I slowing you down."

Avogadro cast Volcan a questioning look, and then turned to Pavan again. "It's true. You are a Wind Phoenix, are you not? I have read that your kind can fly quite swift."

"But I've never tried it!" Pavan exclaimed, and then his eyes shifted. "Well, actually yes I have. Mostly for climbing higher quicker, but never like this!"

"Can you not apply the same principle for going forward?" asked Avogadro.

"I can... but I try to make sure I'm up as high as possible when I do where the only thing I'm in danger of hitting is a wild goose," he replied. "To use it when flying low is hazardous -if I hit anything, even foliage, it could break every bone in my body."

Volcan grimaced at the thought of his friend crashing into the water, or worse onto the deck of one of the ships which would certainly spell his death. "You're right, Pavan," he said. "We can't risk your life like that."

Pavan looked like he agreed wholeheartedly for a moment, but his expression started to shift, his gaze drifting to the wall below as it turned to guilt, and then turned to look out at the wall of ships surrounding his home island. "But... we don't have much choice, do we?" He asked. "No ships can get out, and no one else is fast enough to get over or around this blockade."

"Pavan?" Volcan asked.

"I'll do it," the wind phoenix said with finality, before Volcan could even begin to process the sudden shift.

"W-wait, hold on!" Volcan began, still trying to catch up. "Why the sudden change of heart? We just agreed that it's too risky!"

"I want to help," he replied. "I want to protect Avolon. I'm just a scout though, not a soldier -I can do more this way than I ever could with this little sword." he looked down at the short blade hanging at his belt. "I can do it. I will do it. I can get to Albion."

Avogadro turned to Volcan, as though expecting him to protest further or offer some clarification for how Pavan might succeed in this task. Volcan could not, though, for he had no reason to believe he could beyond know that Pavan was swift, but the phoenix knew he had been hasty in making his suggestion, and the regret for doing so was obvious on his face, in the form of fear of losing his friend.

"Pavan... are you sure?" Volcan asked.

"It's the only way," he said. "This fleet came in the night -it's clear even darkness doesn't hinder them, so waiting until nightfall wouldn't help -less so since it'd leave me blind as well and I'd probably perish anyway." He sucked in a deep breath. "I've got to do it."

"Then you have made your decision," said Avogadro, a hint of admiration in his tone as he reached into the pocket of his coat, lifting his hand out and lifting an item clutched within his palm. "You will need this, then, to show to the duke."

He opened his clenched palm, revealing a gold ring with an insignia carved into the top -the symbol of the letter 'A' in the style of old Avolonian, with an accentuated lower right curve and curving top to the letter that made the open 'A' look like a curving triangular sail. He handed the ring to Pavan, who caught it gingerly between his hands, staring it as though mesmerised by its beauty.

"Do not lose that -it is my signet ring, and is an heirloom," Avogadro warned, and then continued in a gentle tone. "Show it to the Duke when you deliver the message. If you have that ring, he should listen. Answer all of his questions as best you can but speak to him as you would if he was King Christopher himself."

"Yes, sire," returned the wind phoenix.

"Speed of the wind be with you, scout," said Avogadro, letting Volcan pass to approach Pavan, clutching his friend by the arm in a gesture of camaraderie.

"Be safe, my friend," he said. "I would not want you to miss a chance to share breakfast at my house again."

"I will never miss your mother's scones, not even if the Lycanthrian ruler himself tries to keep me from them," replied Pavan with a wag of his finger as he turned to the wall, rubbing his hands together as he stared out to the blockade beyond.

He started to envision the path he would take, speculating that the fore of the ships would be where the defenses were strongest -most ships did not have cannons on their aft, and as long as he stayed low he would be in no danger from the scatterball weapon that had nearly taken Volcan's life when they had tried to fly over the line of ships. What he had to fear were the handheld weapons of the ship's crew -bows and firearms alike.

When he had planned his route, the Wind Phoenix dove from the wall. Though they had expected his departure, still Volcan nearly pitched himself over the crenellations to follow him, fearing for his friend's life until he reappeared over the waves below, racing over the waves with all the speed he could muster without his wind powers, and that was no minor velocity.

Avogadro turned his attention to Volcan. "Can you aid him in any way? Maybe cast some fireballs out to the ships to distract them?"

"From this distance?" Volcan asked incredulously. "They would burn away before they made it half the journey. Pavan is on his own." The bitter words left a bile taste in his mouth, having been far more callous than he had intended. "As much as I hate to say it," he added.

The two watched the wind phoenix racing over the waves, their muscles tensing as they saw an orange flash from the deck of one of the ships, seeing Pavan weave out of the way a mere second before the flash, having seen the shooter before they had fired. His target seemed to be a gap between two ships, currently left open from the smaller patrol boats and with afts of two ships on either side, and Avogadro and Volcan soon understood his plan.

Pavan veered off his direct course, turning with a sharpness no avian had any right to make and making for the aft of the vessel, his velocity increasing and the waves below him seeming to ripple and part as he passed over. He was not even flapping his wings anymore -the young wind phoenix was completely riding the air itself, his wings only serving to give him lift as he carried himself along with it. The clumsy patterns of his trek that followed showed just how ill-practiced with this he was, turning too quickly and failing to get his bearings through the spray of the sea around him as he tried not to make himself an easy target for the riflemen aboard the ship he was intent on passing.

He knew he could only stall for so long though -he couldn't keep up this wind propulsion forever, and so he daringly rose from the waves just enough to see through the spray, plotting his new course and veering toward the ship again. Bullets plinked into the water around him, not one finding its mark. A cannonball splashed into the water behind him, having moved behind its minimum firing range long before the powder had been ignited.

Like a streaking arrow he raced between the ships, plumes of water rising in his wake as he went. On the decks of the ships, Volcan could make out the riflemen running to the opposed rail to continue laying an interceptive fire upon the escaping wind phoenix, but before they could even fire their second volley, Pavan had moved well out of their range.

He was clear.

"He made it," said Volcan, almost in disbelief as he saw the silhouette of his friend fading out in the distance. A proud grin soon formed at the corners of his beak and he threw up his fists in triumph, whooping to the sky. "Huzzah! He made it! He got through!"

"Wonderful!" Avogadro exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "That brave scout will be remembered as a hero to Avolon for his daring!"

Volcan lowered his arms, peering fondly across the sea. Pavan had long since passed beyond the range of his sight, but he could still envision his friend racing across the waves with all due haste, a race that could well determine Avolon's future in the coming conflict ahead. But for now, he silently praised his fearless comrade, and uttered a prayer to his ancestors to watch over him on his journey to Albion.

Time passed in silence as the two shared a proud moment for their scout friend. It was eventually Avogadro who spoke first, gesturing at Volcan's torso. "We best get you back to the tower and get those dressed," he said. "Wouldn't want you to get an infection."

"Agreed," replied Volcan, nodding as he limped back from the wall. "I better take the stairs down, though -don't want to try landing on this leg again."

"A good idea," agreed the Prince, following Volcan to the stairs -in case he needed help getting down without the assistance of a handrail.

It took the phoenix some time to descend, leaning on the wall to his side for support as he hobbled down the steps, Avogadro walking behind him with a hand on his shoulder to steady him if he were to lose his balance. Making it down without a slip, they started for the tower -their earlier flight had taken them some distance away, and despite Volcan's insistence that the Prince could fly ahead, Avogadro chose to stay with him.

The area surrounding Garibaldi's Rise was likely the only corner of Grand Harvest island that did not consist of farmland, yet was still within sight of many fields -a wheat farm stood just over yonder from the tower, with the farmstead no more than a couple of hours walk away.

Yet, Volcan could not help but notice there did not seem to be anyone tending the fields that day -while he was thankful that they were unbothered by the locals, not wanting rumours of the Prince's location to be spread by chatty tavern patrons, it still struck him as odd. Avogadro did not seem to share his suspicion but Volcan's curious looks to the west and north did not skip his attention. He merely believed it to be the phoenix staying alert, even when his left hand grasped the scabbard of his sword -if Volcan sensed danger, he'd tell him, wouldn't he?

They rounded the tower's crumbling outer walls, until they reached the wide-open gate, only to find a figure standing at the door, dressed in dark red and black robes with a hood pulled up over their head, their backs to them as they looked up at the door like they were searching for a way to open it. Volcan tensed when he saw the figure, hand flying to his sword when he saw a black furred tail waving from between the slit back of the robe. He motioned for Avogadro to stand behind him as he drew the blade forth slowly.

Despite his attempt to be quiet, he saw movement around the top of the head, like something moving under the hood. Hands reached up to pull it back, spilling dark hair and freeing a pair of pointed ears from beneath the confines of the hood, along with a canid face. Two ruby eyes fixed on the two as the stranger turned, revealing the robe they wore to be open-front at the legs, where they wore a form-fitting hose of silk, and the upper half of the torso was buttoned together, though did little to hide the feminine figure underneath.

"Ambassador Boleslav?" Avogadro asked in surprise.

"Oh, thank the gods I found you!" She said, holding out her arms as if offering a welcoming embrace to them. "It fills me with joy to see you safe, Prince Avogadro!"

"How did you find us?" Volcan demanded, keeping his sword raised to tell the canid female to keep her distance, "and why are you here?"

"I came here to help you," answered Asya, her expression a look of pleading as she held her hands together before her. "I want to offer my aid, to get you out of the city."

"You expect us to believe that?" Avogadro asked, his voice making his skepticism obvious. "You are with the Lycanthrians!"

"I have nothing to do with this siege!" Asya protested, her tone matching her expression. "Please believe me -Vadim has declared me a traitor! His men hunt me at this very moment -they're probably on their way here now! But I have my ship -my sailors. I can persuade them to help me get you out of here!"

Avogadro's expression softened, seemingly believing her tale. "You could do that?" He asked. "You would betray the Tsar?"

"Your family was very kind to me during my stay here, my Prince," she went on, keeping her hands raised as though in prayer. "Your father, your mother... they did not deserve to be murdered like they were! The least I can do is ensure their child lives. Let me do this for you, I beg you."

Volcan did not move. Avogadro cast a look his way, one that the phoenix saw out of the corner of his eye, and rolled his eyes to look toward him, without turning his head. He saw an expression that could only be described as two-faced, as though he were looking at two photographs cut in half, with one from each placed side by side to make the face whole again using the wrong half. Avogadro kept a neutral look in one eye -the eye Asya could see, his other, the one only Volcan could see, was narrowed, brow deep as if giving a look of incredulity. Volcan caught the message easily, and gave a wry smirk at the Prince's impressive control of his facial expression. He was indeed no fool.

"We want to believe you," began Volcan. "But there are some problems. Suspicions I have, reservations that make me doubt you really have no part in any of this."

"Speak them. I will explain everything," Asya promised. "I know it is not easy to trust me after what happened, so name your test."

"Only questions," replied Volcan. "Yesterday, when we approached you at the docks, you claimed you were only there to check on your men. Correct?"

"Yes," she answered. "I wanted to be sure that they were not getting restless on their stay here, and-"

She paused as she took a step closer, only for Volcan to brandish his sword in warning, telling her without words she was not to come near them. She took a step back, and continued. "-and to offer them some comforts. See if I could look for anything for them in the markets, to help them cope with the boredom, you understand."

"I can," agreed Volcan. "Next question. Where did you vanish to after Vadim revealed his plan? I had hoped you might speak on our behalf, but you were nowhere to be found."

"I was afraid," she said, lowering her head as if in shame, her ears flattening. "Afraid Vadim would kill me if I tried to defend you. A fear I still hold now, if he finds me."

"Very well," Volcan went on -a reasonable answer. "Thirdly, I have to wonder about how you reacted when you saw Avogadro at the harbour."

Asya's ears flicked up, tilting her head curiously. Even Avogadro cast a glance at Volcan in questioning. "Whatever do you mean?" She asked.

"Vadim seemed shocked to see the Prince," said Volcan. "Even with that mask helm on I still saw him give him a second look, like he didn't expect to see him there -which I didn't think much of at first, but I've had time to reflect on that, particularly your reaction to him. Or, lacking thereof."

Asya's eyes widened slightly. "I don't understand," she said, her tone not changing. An impressive actress, if nothing else, but Volcan was not buying into her fake samaritan act here.

"You kept your eyes on Avogadro that whole time, as though you expected him, maybe even _knew_that he would be coming," said Volcan, and saw Avogadro shift uncomfortably beside him as he caught on to what Volcan was saying. "You probably thought nobody would notice, but you underestimate how sharp an avian's eyes are, and I was trained to spot little shifts like that -were Captain Vinson or Lieutenant Alden here I'd have no doubt they would say the same."

"Ambassador?" Avogadro asked, his right hand inching closer to his own blade.

"I cannot explain that, as I do not know what it is you think you saw," Asya admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, never pulling her hands apart. "But surely that is not enough to hold suspicion on me."

"Indeed, it isn't," agreed Volcan. "And truthfully, Ms. Boleslav, I want to believe you. You showed me kindness when you first arrived here in Avolon -spoke up for me against Lord Endicott when he unjustly berated me just for being present. I never got the chance to thank you for that."

She smiled gently at him. "How could I do any less, for the one who saved my life?"

"But that's also where I doubt you," the phoenix cut in. "I always wondered why the Anapolians seemed fixed upon you specifically when they attacked. That bowman I kicked the cart into, I thought he was aiming for me, and maybe he was. But all of those men seemed intent on getting to you-a mere diplomat. Then suddenly they turn up dead, all except for the ones we captured which cannot even speak common."

Asya gave a helpless look. "I can't explain that, you know this," she said.

"No. But you also avoided one of my questions," Volcan clarified. "You never answered me when I asked how you found us."

Her mouth moved in an 'oh' as she heard him repeat his earlier inquiry. "My apologies, Corporal. Captain Vinson told me where to find you, of course. I had to convince him of my intentions as well, but he chose to disclose it with me." She smiled, as if her answer was the final one she needed to provide. "Is that enough?"

"Yes... it would be," replied Volcan. "Except one problem..." He raised his blade, leaning one foot forward as he saw Avogadro drawing his own sword as well, having also caught onto the lie.

"What?" Asya asked, taking a step back warily as she saw the hostile expressions on the two.

"Captain Vinson couldn't have told you where to find us," the phoenix stated, "I never told him where we were going!"

Asya jerked as if the phoenix had already stabbed her without even bringing his blade to her body. The other questions had not mattered -Volcan had only used them to mislead her, knowing she'd have a reasonable answer for them. But he had trapped her -she had not given enough thought to the answer, and now the phoenix had exposed her for the lie, with the only answer they had really wanted -they, because she saw the same look on Avogadro's face. He had not believed her either.

With a cry of fury, Volcan charged at her, sword clutched tightly in his hands. He fought his way through the pain of his leg, though it still slowed his run as he made a beeline for the deceiver and gave a mighty swing, sword whistling as it cut through the air where her neck had been only a second before. The wolfess had deftly dodged out of the way, ducking under the swing, and then leaping out of the arc as he reversed his attack and brought the sword down, the tip burying itself in the dirt inches from her retreating foot.

"Pretty quick reflexes for a diplomat!" Avogadro called.

Against a practiced swordfighter like Volcan, not to mention the speed with which he could swing his longsword, an unarmed civilian could not have dodged him so easily, or with such grace. Her movements were quick, each skip or pirouette angled perfectly to evade his attacks. Movement like those had to be taught and practiced -they were not something anyone could simply do.

Finally, it seemed Asya had had enough with her ruse, reaching under the hem of her robe. A flash of steel cut across Volcan's path, forcing him to retreat as he found a weapon now in the hands of the ambassador. A curved, single-edged blade -not like Vadim's sword, which was nearly semi-circular with the sharpness of its curve and bearing a weighted tip for added percussion in its slash. This sword was more like a saber, without the basket guard, but sharing the forward-curving hook of the pommel for easy retrieval following a stab. The curve was not as sharp either, the bend beginning at the start of the blade instead of halfway along its length, and it had a finer edge and slimmer frame.

She expertly parried Volcan's incoming thrust, unaware that the phoenix had expected her to, where he then thrust his sword forward, completely missing her body and caught her blade in the pronged hilt of his own, clinching it and twisting to lock the two weapons together, bringing her almost nose-to-beak with him.

"That looks nearly identical to the sword we found in the King's Chamber," the phoenix said observantly. "How do you answer that?!" He bellowed as he gave a sharp twist and sent her hurtling to the side.

Asya managed to keep her footing, twisting herself around to face Volcan again with blinding speed as he came at her again, once more clinching their weapons as they met the other's eye. Her face had changed. Not to say she looked different, but the gentle demeanour she had worn when she had arrived was gone, lost behind her wild locks now hanging about her head like waterfalls of ink running down from atop her head. One eye was hidden behind the mess of hair.

That red eye seemed to glow with the light of evil itself as it stared into Volcan's, her brow furrowed into a scowl, but her lips were curled back in a pointed-tooth smile. The hesitation that diabolical look caused nearly cost him, wondering if he was even looking at the same woman, and she suddenly drove her foot into his groin, causing him to reel and allowing her to free her sword, which he had to block with his bracer, followed by her booted foot with his sword arm as she attempted to kick his head. Like a jumping cricket she leapt away before he could grab her, and then something hit his side.

He looked down, and found a dagger imbedded in his ballistine vest. Without the weight of the wielder behind it the dagger had not gone very deep. He swatted the dagger away and brought up his blade again to block her oncoming strike.

But like a striking cobra, up came her other arm, with it another glint of silver, and this time Volcan felt lightning course through his body as something buried itself deep into his abdomen. Another dagger, but this one sporting a thicker blade than the first. He could not hold back his scream, feeling a wrenching pain in his gut where the dagger had pierced in. He collapsed as she bludgeoned him with the pommel of her sword, dropping him onto his side with stars dancing in his eyes.

"You should have stayed out of my way, Corporal," Asya spoke in a tone like none he had heard from the 'ambassador' before. It was cold, seemingly devoid of remorse, carrying instead of hint of pleasure by what she was doing as her sword was brought against his neck. "I do so find your kind fascinating."

A gunshot filled the air. Asya jerked, and Volcan felt moisture and tasted iron as a hole opened in the front of the female's robe. Her eyes grew wide, the sword and dagger fell from her grasp to hit the ground at her sides as a dark spot appeared on her robes, lowly growing. Then, she collapsed, dropping onto her side with barely a breath as she hit the grass. Behind her stood Avogadro, smoking pistol held in his left hand aimed at where she'd had her back to him.

Slowly, the prince lowered his arm, dropping the smoking pistol without taking his eyes off the woman. This was the second person he had shot and killed with that pistol... and it showed on his face that it did not feel any less sickening to him to have done it a second time, so soon after the first...

Shaking himself before he could slip into a depressive state again, he ran over to Volcan, helping the phoenix to sit up and beginning to examine him. "Where are you wounded?" He asked but retracted his question when he saw the wet spot on Volcan's abdomen. "That looks bad... how deep did it go?"

"I can't tell, but I don't think it hit any vitals," said Volcan in a strained voice, keeping a hand on the wound to slow the loss of blood.

"Can you cauterize it?" Avogadro asked.

"My skin doesn't burn, Prince -I can't cauterize myself. I need something to bandage it wi-" he stopped, eyes widening and beak agape in horror as he looked past the prince.

Avogadro turned sharply and caught his breath as he saw Asya rising to her feet again. "It's... Not possible! I shot her through the heart!"

"Your bullet only grazed my heart, but even so my kind are not so easily felled," she replied, turning to face him with her sword back in her hand. "You will have to do far better than that, my young friend."

Avogadro raised his sword defensively, not taking his eyes from Asya even as he heard Volcan trying to get up behind him. "Are you... another of those monsters, like Vadim?!" Avogadro demanded.

She nodded without hesitation. "We are Lycanthropes," she answered plainly. "In the status quo of the Lycanthrian rule, it is a privilege to be granted this power. Most see it as a curse, but we are taught it to be a gift." She was wearing that diabolical grin again. "It allows us to be the beasts that we once were, to bridge the gap between our primal ancestors and ourselves. And," she spun her blade, positioning it for attack. "It makes us nearly invincible."

She charged at the Prince. Avogadro parried with his Colichemarde, redirecting her sword away from him and backing away, having to maneuver around Volcan to avoid tripping on him. Asya started for the recovering phoenix, but Avogadro's blade jabbed toward her, nearly piercing her muzzle and diverting her attention to him, steel ringing against steel as the Prince fought for his very life, and that of the phoenix.

As skilled as Avogadro was, this was his first time facing an opponent that was intent on killing him. There would be no pulling the thrust before landing a blow, like his instructor had done many times in their sparring sessions. This time there was no ball-pointed tip or blunted edges to protect against physical harm, and he wore no safety gear -not any sort of armour. One mistake, and he would surely die -that reality brought a speed to his arm he had never known before.

Even so, a nick to his arm reminded the raven that his chances of victory against this opponent were small, knowledge shared by his phoenix comrade fighting to get to his feet.

Volcan ignored the agony in his abdomen as he rolled onto his front, retrieving his sword and using it for leverage to pick himself up. He saw Avogadro managing to keep his opponent at bay, but he did not miss the cuts that had appeared on the prince's body. His coat had several punctures and cuts in the fabric, and though not all of them seemed to lead to open cuts, it was clear Avogadro was not on the winning side. He had the longer sword, and did well to keep Asya at bay, but every wound he might have inflicted on the wolfess had already begun to heal.

Desperate, he let out a cry of fury as he charged, raising his blade over his head -damn the risk, as he put all of his strength into the swing. Asya turned, her red eyes widening in surprise when she saw the larger phoenix soaring at her, his sword high. She could well have disemboweled him right there, but she would not stop his attack if she had. He didn't even know if this could kill her, but clearly she felt threatened enough to attempt to protect herself.

Down came the longsword, up came her blade. Steel met steel, steel broke steel, her thinner sword failing to hold under the force of his swing. With nothing to stop it, the phoenix's heavy sword cut down along her torso, cutting cloth and flesh alike, drawing blood and exposing her body to him as her upper robe fell open.

Under the robe, she wore a leather brassiere, but she was otherwise bare. He could see the finely-honed muscles now -not the body of a diplomat but of a warrior. But then he stared -not at her feminine form, but at her body, and the many bald spots on her torso, beneath the fur of each showing slightly deformed skin where wounds had recently healed -they looked to have closed over a week ago, save for one still open over her breast, where Avogadro had shot her, and some light punctures where he had inflicted damage.

Up by her neck, just below the collarbone and above the fresh wound left by Avogadro, he saw one spot that caught his eye. Though it had long since closed, he could still make out the general shape and size of the bullet that had inflicted it -he did not know much about ballistics but Gregory had made a point of teaching him how to recognize wounds -likely for situations like this, when he needed to identify an injury to know how to dress it, or get an idea of what weapon a possible hostile might carry.

This was different, however. The wound he saw, clearly an exit wound, was almost the same size as the wound left by Avogadro's shot to her back. The other bullet wounds were clearly from larger caliber armaments, but these two were identical in diameter.

The sword... the bullet wounds... and Asya admitting that she was like Vadim - a 'Lycanthrope' she called it. He remembered Vadim stating he had not been the one who killed the king. At the time Volcan thought he might have been lying, or that it might have been one of the other monster wolves accompanying him. Except none of them would know where to find King Christopher in High Eyrie or how to avoid the guards, or even how to escape. It would have taken someone who knew the palace from the inside...

The realization hit him with the force of a hammer, staring at Asya in shock and rage all blending together in his features. "It was you!" He shouted accusingly. "You killed the King and Queen! You murdered Avogadro's family!"

He saw Avogadro tense, the Prince's yellow eyes burning into the back of Asya's head as he stared at her in utter disbelief. But the sadistic female was only grinning.

"Yes, it was I," she admitted, not bothered by the gaping wound running down the front of her torso. "It was my mission to assassinate the royal family." She looked over her shoulder at Avogadro. "Including you. But your mother managed to shoot me after I ran Christopher through upon my blade. Her shot, I'm assuming, woke you, and then you escaped. So, I came here to finish the job."

"You... wretched witch!" Avogadro cried, thrusting his sword with all the strength he could muster.

Asya moved with such speed that she seemed to have transformed into a black tornado as she reacted to the attack, slapping away the sword, catching his arm, and then whirling around to throw him through the air with strength a female her size could not possibly have. The prince must have flown at least six paces through the air, landing heavily on the ground -Volcan could hear the breath leave his lungs from the force of the impact.

The phoenix struck again, his sword descending toward Asya again. She caught the blade, with her bare paw -he could feel the sword bite into flesh, but it did not travel very deep into her hand, which only now Volcan noticed was growing bigger. He heard the sickening sound of bones breaking, coming from Asya's body as she began to grow taller -she was not a short woman to begin with, only inches shorter than Volcan himself, but now she was becoming even taller, her robe bulging as it struggled to contained her expanding form...

The bone-snapping and grinding increased. He could see her eyes and cheekbones twitching with pain, but her toothy grin never faded, only becoming more monstrous as she did. Her robe exploded from her body, her hose and undergarments soon shredding as she continued to grow. Volcan could only watch in horrid fascination, his lungs screaming for air but he could not bring himself to draw a breath, so shocked he was to see the transformation up close. He had seen Vadim in his transformed state but he had not seen the process. It was as sickening as it was horrifying, to watch this attractive female become in minutes, a being who seemed to step out of a nightmare.

Gone was the inviting face of the woman, and the attractive, fit form she once had -a figure that would certainly make her the desire of many male wolves, transform into a bulging mass of muscle, her soft fingers turning into elongated digits ending in death in the form of scythe-like claws. Her legs bent and deformed to become digitigrade as her three-toed feet expand to accommodate her new size, her heels no longer touching the ground. Her furred breasts receded and seemed to flatten beneath her fur, nearly vanishing flat against the muscle of her chest. Her hair had gone from a cascade of flowing ink to a messy mane of black, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to remain hair or become fur. The only thing that remained of the female that this monster had once been were the ruby red eyes, still carrying intelligence despite the bestial snarl she elicited as she lifted Volcan off the ground by his own sword.

Then, the phoenix was spinning, hurled through the air with minimal effort. He was not accustomed to meeting a creature stronger than himself, and was completely unprepared to be thrown so easily, and immediately regretted not taking a breath before as he nearly lost consciousness when he struck the ground. He heard his sword clatter to the ground nearby, having left his hand after he had been thrown.

Asya was no longer interested in Avogadro, seeing the phoenix as a bigger problem that she needed to deal with. She stalked toward him, walking awkwardly on her hind legs as she lumbered toward him.

Avogadro rose, shaking his head and blinking the stars from his eyes in time to see the creature about to fall upon Volcan, shouting a warning to him that helped rouse Volcan from his daze. He looked up, and saw the huge paw falling toward him. On sheer instinct, he caught it, stopping it. His triumph was short-lived as the claws of her other paw swiped at him, tearing away a piece of his armour as he felt three new additions to the pain already coursing from his abdomen, and then was once again thrown, this time into the wall of the tower, once again jarring him.

Volcan took in a deep breath, his eyes glowing. Asya snapped forward with speed that defied her size, wrapping a hand around his beak and forcing it shut, gouts of flame escaping his nostrils instead, leaving her unharmed.

"None of that, now," she said, her voice nearly drowned by growls, yet still carrying its effeminate tone. "I'll not fall for the same trick as Njall's brat."

But Volcan only smiled slightly, and muttered a reply that did not quite come through clearly to Asya, and she shifted her hand to let him reply, while still holding his head back. "What did you say, boy?" She asked.

"Not limited to my mouth," he replied as he lifted his hands, revealing that his palms had become immolated with fire, which exploded forth with a thrust of his hands, gouts of fire erupting from his palms and engulfing her torso, igniting her fur.

Asya roared in pain, dropping Volcan and retreating from him, slapping at the fire that threatened to spread. She felt a weight thrown onto her back, and two powerful arms around her neck, pulling hard into her throat as the phoenix held her tight. She snarled, trying to reach back for him, but her transformation had come at more of a cost than her beauty -her broad shoulders and thick arms made it hard for her to reach for the phoenix, especially with him thrashing as he attempted to strangle her.

She stumbled about until she threw herself backwards into the door of the tower, which broke open under her mass, thankfully saving Volcan from being crushed by her weight. Apparently, Asya had not expected this either, for she kept going, arms flailing for purchase as she stumbled across the corridor and into the door to the guard room, which was still partly open from the last time Volcan and Avogadro had entered it.

They kept going until they crashed into the nearest bunk bed, and only then did Volcan lose his grasp on Asya as they fell into a mass of curtains, mattresses, pillows and blankets as it collapsed under her weight. Volcan scrambled to get away, blinded by a sheet that fell over him and hearing Asya thrashing about, collapsing more of the beds as she fought to free herself from the mess she had caused.

Volcan finally managed to get out from under the sheet, getting his bearings and running for the door, leaping over the thrashing mass of black fur and utterly eradicated bunk bed components under which she was buried. When he got to the door, he had a thought, and his eyes glowed again as he turned and cast a stream of fire from his hand into the room, igniting the blankets and hay-filled mattresses that Asya was buried under.

He heard the wolf roaring in agony as the fire spread around her, and he threw the door to the tower shut as he ran outside, finding Avogadro waiting for him. He took the prince by the arm, and just kept running. He didn't really have any direction or destination in mind -he just felt the urge to run, to get far away from the tower. He left without his sword, not wanting to go back to get it.They must have run more than a quarter of a mile before Avogadro's fatigue got to him as he tried to catch his breath, feeling the urge to vomit, but he had skipped breakfast that morning and had nothing to let out. The prince stood over him, a hand on his back reassuringly as the phoenix struggled to collect himself before he looked over his shoulder toward the tower.

"Is she... dead?" He asked.

"I don't know," he answered, once his lungs were replenished enough to form words. "I left her in the guard room and just ignited everything. If that did not kill her then I don't know what can."

Avogadro stared in silence toward the tower for several moments, watching the rising pillar of black smoke spewing from the site. He could see nothing, no sign of any pursuit, or of anyone leaving the burning tower. A grim satisfaction seemed to form on his features, eyes narrowed with disdain and corners of his beak curled in a deep frown.

Maybe not as much satisfaction as hatred, thought Volcan when he saw that face.

"We should leave," he said. "As that fire grows that smoke is going to be visible all the way to the city." He looked around briskly, seeking some nearby shelter they might use. "Is there another tower or a barracks we can go to?"

Not any that Volcan knew, but his problems were much worse than their next hiding place. Volcan was still losing blood, the claw wound and dagger having not begun to properly close, and the struggle with Asya had only worsened them. Avogadro seemed to see this, and rushed over to Volcan, helping him to sit upright and checking the wounds.

"You're losing too much blood," he said. "We need to cover them, somehow."

"Your coat," said Volcan, holding his abdomen.

The prince did not even question it -likely he had many coats like the one he wore now, and it was already ruined by sword cuts and dirt. He took off his coat, left only in his dark blue dress shirt, and used his sword and cut the coat apart as best he could, taking the lower half of it and laying the cleaner inside against Volcan's chest as the phoenix tore up the rest to use as binding, having to tie the two halves of the sleeves together to wrap around his large figure. The coat dampened quickly with blood staining it a sinister black, but it succeeded in slowing the loss of precious life fluid.

"What now?" Avogadro asked.

"Now... we fly," said the phoenix, pushing himself to his feet.

Avogadro gawked at him. "Fly?! In your condition?" The raven demanded in disbelief as he shot to his own feet. "You will barely get off the ground! Even if you do, what is to stop you from passing out and crashing?"

"There's no other choice," stated Volcan. "We have to go to the peninsula..."

"The..." Avogadro trailed off, blinking at Volcan in confusion. "To your homeland? Why? Will they help us?"

"Only they can protect you now," said Volcan, feeling his eyes growing heavy, and his strength beginning to wane. "And you need... me to... speak for..."

He could not make it. Though they had covered his wounds, he was still bleeding, and his strength was waning quickly as the adrenaline left his limbs. His eyes rolled back in his head, before finally the phoenix collapsed, hearing Avogadro's voice seeming to come to him from far away as darkness crept over him.

Soon he faded from the world, lying still in the grass...

End of Book Three

Next in this series:

Volume 4: War of the Wolf

Lycanthria's invasion of Avolon continues, with seemingly no end to their forces in sight. At the front lines, supported by friends and strangers alike, Volcan faces impossible odds, while Avogadro must step up to become the king his people need in this time of strife. Can both shoulder this great responsibility that has been cast upon them?