FSE

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Chapter 1: Training For a Living

The warm winds of August grazed through the matted fur and frayed whiskers of Victor and Anya as they sauntered on home from another day of training: sweat, dried blood and ragged clothes giving off a horrid smell to the ones passing by. The wooden huts and improvised housing set upon cobblestone streets cracked and splintered in a thousand different ways every time the howl of the gust could be heard.

Sparring words, insults and more hung in the dojo's air between the wolf and dragon but silence was shared between them now as they ended their walk at the train station, sitting next to each other and ordering cups of bitter remedy tea. The putrid beverage being the product of locally grown mushrooms, appealing in color but appalling in taste. The blue cap with green dots belied a brewing color and taste similar to a clothes washing bucket, even with sugar added. The wooden planks greeting their calloused paws bowed and squelched from another flash flood in the lower districts finally reaching towards the entrance to Central Hold. The High Rise was never affected by these floods, but their frequency and increasing depth made the pair wonder if there would be a day where that wouldn't be the case: the Lower Wards had finally drowned, and the Central masses started pleading for help.

A train of bent and beaten metal screeched its way into station, with Victor and Anya limping onto it with bruised limbs and swollen fingers. After taking their seats, the train's loose metal paneling whistled and screeched with the wind flowing through the cabins. The hillside their kingdom laid upon made train rides closer to a roller coaster than a calm commute, requiring passengers to wear a tight seat belt and hold onto a hanging rope. The first time Victor came home from Garreus's academy, he didn't know how drastic the downward plunge would be, only saving himself from mere splat potential by gripping onto a window after falling forward the length of one car. Even with the relative safety of the belt and his hand on the steadying handle, he felt the need to curl his gray tail around something, especially when the flooding waters made the ride bumpier.

The swelling in his fingers subsided as the minutes passed by, the repulsive tea doing its magic. Looking out the window as the scenery sped by, the only view present was one of desolate wastelands, peppered with monoliths of jade and obsidian stone. The hillside kingdom was the only patch of green for miles as far as he knew, with the rest of the world seeming to be an oasis of sand with no end in view.

Anya noticed her companion's contemplative look. "You know one of these days, those big wigs from the High Rise will eventually have to try something again with the artifact below. We're running out of time."

Victor nodded his head, familiar with Anya's distaste for the men and women above. "Yeah, well the last time they played with that damn black stone, they blew off the other side of our mountain."

"I'm aware..." She said with a heavy sigh, her whiskers drooping and brushing against Victor's arm. "But all this training is just serving as a distraction now from the rising tide."

"You don't want to be part of the guard, truly?"

"Not if it means getting to live up high while people like the former us suffer in the down low." She crossed her arms, letting go of her handle but seeming unbothered by her frame sliding over and only being supported by the stretched belt. "It must be done, but I can't bother waiting for those petticoats any longer."

"Neither can I." Victor replied with a grunt. "If you come up with any crazy ideas to get their attention though, let me know."

Anya gave a small giggle in response. "I'm guessing without the use of fire this time."

"Especially without that." Victor gave a nudge. "That was a pretty valid way to get District Mayor Burkes to fix that sewage overflow, I have to admit."

The squeaking link of metal cars finally came to a stop with a sickening lurch. With a simple wave to each other, Victor and Anya departed in separate directions. The angular and misshapen granite roads poked at the wolf's paws, making every trip to and fro less of a graceful walk and more of a haphazard exercise in tip-toeing.

The downward trek continued until his wooden abode came into view, a small dwelling with two windows, a squeaky door and a whole three market stall's worth of walking space. A larger home used to greet him back in his childhood, but such luxury disappeared when his father was grandfathered into the guard program by a close friend, after said companion was injured terribly. He was gone for lengthy periods of time, the High Rise claiming that there wasn't enough room for him and the rest of the family. Periods of absence grew longer after every short and cynically token visit to their smaller and smaller residences before he would return to the upper section of the mountain.

This abode was one the old guard didn't know about, to which Victor thanked the great above for. Maybe he finally came back for his wife, maybe she succumbed to the flood, willingly or otherwise. Perhaps he finally just stayed in his stone carved home up above, separated from everyone else by several gates of iron. All the gray wolf knew for sure was that these old boards mixed in with new ones was all his, enough courier money in his pocket to afford the most pleasant things the bottom wards had, like spices and first-time forged eating utensils. The color of his fur was a combination of his ma and pa, for which he muttered silent curses against on the most dower of days. Most of his frame was a light gray like his father, but his chest fluff and eyes were a pale blue, just like his mother.

As he laid in bed, he groaned upon looking at the darkening ceiling, running low on candles and the hay in his bed-case was going bad from the floods and leaking roof. He moved his own paw slowly down his chest before stopping onto his crotch and tugging on the sweat stained underwear.

It'd be nice you were here. He thought to himself, lacking confidence and energy, but layered with mundanity and tired resentment, thinking of no one but her. She was the only one he could think about on most days, because no one else in these parts of town ever stood out as much. Even as the training became grueling, demotivating and seemingly pointless as the days passed by, his justification was that he got to meet that jade and pearl dragon with the cutely curvy whiskers. His nails lifted up the underwear, exposing his already full mast member to the humid August air. A sigh came afterwards however, groaning and belittling himself for even considering that idea, and for his friend to be the subject of a fantasy.

_Playful flirt but nothing more, plus Garreus and guard would disallow it before our training concluded. _Thoughts like that kept him from making any bold move on her, and the idea of losing her after an awkward encounter was far too risky, to a demoralizing degree.

Where to even go if not here then, Anya? She spoke and muttered of such ideas fairly often since this year began, fantasizing about doing something grand to help everyone. All the inconveniences and issues being ignored by the higher ups earned her ire this year as compared to the months he knew her prior. The sewage overflow, a smuggling operation that starved the civilians not training and a guard looting the abandoned homes of the flooded sections all got her attention, and the Lower Ward authorities didn't have the resources to contain a dragon truly.

All noble things, but I'm afraid of her getting restrained one day. Then she would truly need to be on the run, but where would she go? Victor thought again of the scenery that sped by his train window, the endless sea of sand that only the exiles have been too. When trying to scare him into behaving, his mother would tell of the legendarily bad things that hid in those scalding deserts: creatures of gargantuan size and metallic skin alongside sudden sentient flames that would envelop the landscape beyond the horizon, a legend common enough to give the wastelands another name: The Glasslands.

Question is, if you do get exiled, am I dumb enough to follow? His imagination did the work, playing out a scenario where two bitter creatures walk into the horizon with the sun beating on their backs and the sand burning through their sandals. Probably. Then the daydream imagined a worm bigger than a mountain itself, with obsidian skin and a maw shaped like a five petal flower.

_Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. _Grumbling and pulling his dirty sheet over his body, the pale wolf went to sleep in preparation for the next day of training.

---

Green candles burning with blue flames served as the only source of light in the dark training house, composed of pristine oak wood with paintings of revered guards hanging on the walls and doors. Plaques complimented the bottom of each frame, telling tales of the Red Wolf Regiment, the Jade Dragon Collective, and the controversial Feral Legion. Dramatic names aside, the words chiseled in iron would always speak of enemies with foreign names that didn't translate into anything Victor or Anya knew.

The two sat next to each other as the scent of the green candles entered their nostrils, eliciting dreams of abstract places going through cataclysmic circumstances with the sole intention of remaining calm.

Anya was stuck in a palace of ice, her projection of self maintaining her stance upon floors of black crystal while freezing gales chipped away her skin. As flakes of her marble skin flew away, the unrelentingly cold winds flew snowflakes into the skin deep wounds, making home in between the layers, snapping and fissuring through the nearby patches of flesh, making the first break bigger and bigger as the seconds passed, pulling away the deeper reaches of flesh, enough to draw blood as the wound expanded.

Victor trudged and pulled himself up from a chasm of endless muck, the only light given to him being fireflies and the dimming torch within his hand. As the flame faded, the black goo surrounding him started to form into tendrils and hands, grabbing onto his arms and chest. One had claws and started to pierce into his shoulders, the release of blood signaling a different sensation of heat over the suffocating humidity of the cave. The new sources of burning sensation continued upon him as more tendrils gained jagged and malformed teeth piercing into his upper chest and lower shins.

Anya maintained, keeping her arms by her side and keeping her eyes open despite the winter tempest. Icicles appeared from the ground itself, threatening as spikes crawling towards, accompanied by the loud and distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed.

Victor took a deep breath and closed his eyes, accepting the dark and relaxed his muscles to the temporary delight of his oppressors. The number of claws on his frame increased, scraping away at the flesh from his shoulders down to his lower back, threatening to rip off his tail next. The ceiling of the cave itself started to come down upon him as an earthquake occurred just outside of the darkness.

As they both maintained resolve however, and the scenery collapsed to beat upon their frames, their bodies exuded a warm white light before letting their avatars fade from that temporary existence, making both of their bodies in the real world snort out the smell of the candles.

"Very good." Garreus drily said before taking a big gulp of tea. "You're getting even faster at breaking that spell."

Victor felt winded by the experience, no matter how many times he was succeeding as of late. Faking a strong and calm demeanor was becoming just as commonplace as he glanced over to Anya, seeming unaffected and maybe even unaware of the strenuous meditation taking place. Garreus placed a glass cover over the candles before taking them away and sealing them in a cupboard behind lock and key. The master told the pair once that the candles were made from a material down below the mountain, deep underground, and would knock out the many explorers who traversed the forbidden area. Gaseous whenever the temperature rose above one hundred degrees, the humid caverns below the mountain made the unprepared miners and explorers delirious and trapped in illusion until they starved.

"Proceed with the training course and the two of you may go home afterwards." Garreus spoke, grunting and clutching at the wounds plastered over his shoulders, elbows and hands. The old lion was still able to spar and serve, but it was clear that years of battles left him a few stray slashes away from being a cripple. A horrid gash painted his chest, forcing him to shave off the fur surrounding the wound on a regular basis, for it opened regularly. The warrior also bore a cantankerous growth on his right shoulder, to which he briefly claimed was caused by the stinger of a wild beast. War stories were few whenever pried about his service but he would always say that the enemy would attack again and we would meet them halfway on the wastelands before they could reach the mountainside.

Through a set of black-wood doors, the training course was laid out dressed in the sweat and blood of every fighter and would-be guard in the mountain kingdom. Dummies made of straw littered the left and right side, equipped with wooden batons that would swing to the opposite side of the body when struck: strike left, counterattack right, then repeat until the forearms and shins are bruised. Towards the back of the room was a disc launcher, with oak staves lying in the middle of the room, meant to deflect the incoming projectiles, whether by redirection or using enough force to break them apart. At the very front was a sparring ring, cleaned and repaired countless times.

Victor picked up his blunt staff and stepped on the pedal to release the barrage, standing with his knees bent and squinting his eyes. The first disc came flying through the air towards his feet before two more launched towards his head. Twirling the staff for a moment, the wolf swung the bottom of the pole upwards, smashing the disc and then twirling the pole again while twisting his body before the second horizontal swing, obliterating the others and feeling a dozen tiny splinters land on his coat of fur.

Anya stood behind him, admiring how well he could destroy the discs but also feeling too bored with training to want to join him. She could punch the dummies, do what he's doing or practice wall running, but nothing gave a spark of entertainment.

Then a terrible idea came to mind.

Twelve more discs came and went, smashed to smithereens by Victor's twirling, twisting and overhead strikes. Before he could press the pedal to start the machine again however, a voice entered that made him pause.

"Think fast, furball!" The voice came from behind but as he started to turn, he heard footsteps from his front, so he swung back around just in time to block another wooden staff and feeling the force of the aggressor try to push him back. His attacker wore a devilish smile and let slip a small giggle before adding more force to the locked weapons.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Victor retorted, pushing back and locking the two in place on the floor.

"Making things more interesting." She replied, breaking the lock by sliding her weapon away and then kicking his staff in the center, pushing him back a few inches after stumbling. "Unless you're too scared to try, Mr. Big Bad Wolf."

_I can't bear to hurt her. _He thought to himself as her smugness became more radiant. _But I also can't resist, not wanting to let her down. _

A smile came upon his face as he charged forwards without a word, spinning his wooden sword like a perpetually moving shield, meeting a counter from Anya that failed to slow down his push. Relentlessly forcing her back, the dragon swiped her tail underneath the four inches of space the revolving barrier spared, whacking at Victor's right ankle, barely stumbling but halting his assault regardless for a mere second. He moved the shield downwards for defense but Anya moved back before leaping above him and twisting herself sideways, thrusting the back of her thighs into his head. Bent at the knees, she pulled him down to the floor, breaking his grip on the wooden staff.

Scrambling and picking himself up with her grip loosened, she pushed herself towards him with her hands, managing another lock, this time with his head right between her legs, able to gaze upon what covered her underneaths and look upwards towards her stomach and grinning face.

Focus, dammit. Turning violently in place, he managed to shake her off enough to detach one leg before grabbing the other and throwing her down to the ground.

"Is someone going easy on me?" She spouted, picking herself off the ground after an audible thud.

Instead of trying to come up with a witty reply, lest his voice become shaky and ruin the effort, the wolf simply extended his hand and mocked with a beckoning gesture. A small giggle came before a flurry of fists: up, left, hook to the stomach, a kick to the shin. All were blocked before his open palm caught her fists and the two pushed each other to the soundtrack of the wooden floors squeaking and splintering. Her tail came to whip at his legs again but he retorted with his own, the strength of her large and scaly tail however was much more than his meager fur dangler could match. Feeling the sturdiness in his legs buckle, Victor desperately stepped forward. Another tail whip came again, hitting his raised leg and making Victor lose his balance. He started to fall forwards unto her but she quickly twisted him around as they fell, making his back hit the floor. Hearing him pant, she straddled him by firmly sitting on top of his stomach, looking over him as sweat plastered both of their skins.

"Not fair." Victor said after many ragged breaths, seeing his opponent making a seat out of him and hoping she doesn't move backwards to discover how he really felt about that move.

"Gotta do what you can to win." She smirked, pressing her bottom into his body even more.

"I go easy on you, and you feel the need for cheap shots." The wolf replied to the false offense of the dragon before she stood up off of him.

"Went easy, huh? I guess you'll have to give me everything next time." Extending her hand, she pulled her friend off of the floor. Silence hung between for a minute, both anticipating the other to throw another punch but nothing came. Noise finally showed as they both gave sighs and minor cries in pain, Anya's forearms and tail hurting from defending against the revolving shield and Victor's legs stinging from the relentless tail whipping. "Guess we'll still need the tea today."

"Yeah..." Victor replied while stretching and groaning. "I'll pay today."

"That's not necessary, I can get it."

"You won today." He said with a smirk. "My treat."

She smiled and opened her mouth to argue but simply nodded before leaving the dojo with him.

---

The train station was busier than usual that day, with many folk preparing to visit their relatives in other sectors in preparation for the summer festivals: meager buffets, fire dances and makeshift concerts to celebrate unity amongst the townsfolk, especially in regards to the more recent clans such as the eastern dragons and the southern oryxs. Recently in this case referring to at least twenty years before the Undoing of the mountain.

Bulls and mares wearing green aprons walked about the platform holding carts and trays full of sweet treats and delicacies normally made sparingly, with some sweet nectars only supposedly being found out on the wasteland horizons.

Buying the bitter tea from the usual gazelle with the worst attempt at a flirty smile Victor had seen in a while, the dueling pair sat down on their typical spot, waiting for the train to arrive. One of the many oryxs walked about in front of them, and advertised his wares with a feigned enthusiasm, proclaiming the taste and wonder of his treats with complicated vocabulary, but with the tenor and volume of someone counting feral sheep.

After a long sip of tea, Victor looked over to his companion and saw her eyes fixate on the sweets the green apron was holding but making no effort to move from her seat. Any longer, her long tongue might peak from the corners of her mouth. Putting his tea down on the bench, he walked over to the emotionally destitute vendor. The sweet on his tray looked to be a mini-cake comprised of strawberry dough, rings of chocolate decorating the top with blueberries finishing it. The wolf admitted to himself that drool would soon come if he ogled at the confection for too long. Handing over twenty silver chips, the oryx brandished a timid smile before handing the mini-cake over with a few discarded pieces of paper as a napkin.

Turning back to his companion, Victor almost laughed upon seeing the mighty dragon turn her gaze elsewhere. Upon sitting down, she reluctantly moved her hand over to take out a chunk and slide it into her mouth, still looking at nothing but the floorboards. The two sat in silence but the wolf kept his gaze upon the dragon, stifling his giggles and only spoke when he realized how quickly the treat had disappeared between the two.

Chasing down the sweet with the tea of polar opposite taste, silence didn't hang for long before Anya finally turned to Victor with a grand smile, one that rarely seemed to lack malice and playful pride. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He replied with a smile. "You were eyeing that thing like it was the only thing that'll make you happy today."

"Well...it's not the only thing." She said in a low tone, still locking eyes with him.

The screech of the train came, making the two break eye contact and saunter on towards the machine.

The ride was quiet, minutes passed with nothing to say.

Upon leaving the shambling metal tube, Victor nodded to his sparring partner before slowly walking away.

"Victor, wait." Her voice came with reluctance, but his turning towards her didn't. Her toned but small frame took center stage in his eyes: the white skin and scales mixed with the jade green that colored her veins and abdominal region, her red eyes reluctant to look upon him, continuously brushing away her black whiskers and hair. Shifting awkwardly, she cursed before finally speaking in full again. "I'm going down below, tomorrow."

Victor stood there frozen, unsure of what she meant at first before it clicked, making it even harder to think of what to say. "Down below? For the artifact?"

"Yes." She replied, her gaze finally meeting his; playful nature absent. "I've...spent too many nights thinking of it."

Victor's unprepared words caught in his throat multiple times. What could he tell her? That she was wrong to think of doing so? That he would stop her? "I..." He started before breathing deep. "Knew it would eventually, it's poked at the corners of my mind for a while now too."

Her face glowed before stepping closer to him. "So that means you'll help me?"

"Wait, wait, wait." He hurriedly said, backing away. "I agree with what you want, but I don't think we can achieve it."

A scowl appeared on her face. "Is someone really afraid of all those legends the nobles tell us? Their grandfathers probably never set foot down there."

"Legends of horrifying dealers of demise aside..." Victor replied with an exaggerated sigh. "It's probably true how flooded the entire cavern will be. There's only so long we'll be able to hold our breath and it could be hours before we find the artifact."

"Aha." A worryingly assured smile came upon her face before she rifled through her satchel's pockets. "That's what these are for." Her pale palm held several cubes of varying colors, appearing to Victor as blocks of chewing paste, a common flavoring agent and sometimes remedy. "Breathing chew and eyesight fortitude for the murky depths."

Flabbergasted at the suggestion, Victor put his palm to his forehead. "You honestly believe these will work?"

"Yes, Gerald has never let me down."

"You purchase these nick-nacks regularly?!"

"You're awfully nosy." She said with a smirk.

"You're awfully concerning."

"So are you with me or no?" Her arms moved only a mere millimeter before she kept them at her sides. "Because you can't convince me to stop." A sullen face punctuated the statement. "I haven't been able to sleep since this ambition came."

He said nothing for a moment. "On one condition." She looked up to him and simply nodded. "The first sign of things being out of our control, we head back and forget this ever happened."

"Deal."

He nodded back to her. "Get some rest now, we'll leave before sunrise, guard posts should be limited."

"You'll knock on my hut?"

"Yes, and please don't have too many sharp objects poking out of your pack, don't wanna be too obvious."

Anya feigned a pout upon hearing that request, quickly followed by a nod and goodbye.

As they departed, Victor feared the worst in a thousand different ways:

The guards catch them and impale the pair on metal stakes.

The breathing paste chew decides to stop working when they're too far to retreat to the surface or reach the bottom in time.

The legend of the Goligan turns out to be true.

There are guards somehow patrolling the flooded areas, ready with harpoons.

A catastrophic quake separates them.

The artifact no longer exists.

Something happening that traps them down there forever.

The artifact existing and somehow blowing up the world.

Safe to say that last one is probably the biggest concern.