FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CHAPTER 2

"Idon't know what you are anymore."

The fresh odor of fertilizer and moist soil catches Cecil long before reaching the end of this tunnel. The air here has a colorful haze of purple, yellow, and blue dust, spores that glow as if each are twinkling embers. It is _somewhat_harmless to inhale these spores because all they will do is make you sneeze glowing snot.

When Cecil steps out of the tunnel, he takes a right turn and walks the ascending path. This outer way follows along the far wall of the spiral from top to bottom and remains wide enough for a wheelbarrow or cart.

What a sight this farm is to outsiders.

Neighbors often come to inspect the architectural design and to gaze over the glowing veins of blue and white light winding through the soil. They come to admire the network of illuminated red vessels of grapevines that cling across the ceiling and walls. The lantern-like orbs of citrus or the fiery leek often captivates astute observationists. Neighbors believe the farm a magical and marvelous conception of biological engineering. Even the six-foot blue-striped worms inspire awe.

Why do the neighbors of Nesterly care so much about the Thumper-Noble's farm enough to pay for the occasional tour? This farm is merely a dark farm to the lapin who live here. Dark farms are typical enough among cavern-culture, but nothing on this compact scale or with its spiraled design and of this crop diversity.

The Spiral Farm has ten levels to let it resemble an evenly parsed conch shell with a giant chamber at the bottom. Concrete for the foundation, ceiling, and walls. Water troughs have become the host to a glowing blue algae. This water is pumped back up to the eighth level of the farm so that it can seep through the moist soil, keeping the farm humid and warm.

A structure of trellises runs several lengths of the farm, giving vine plants something to climb. Unripe tomatoes possess a pulsing blue light instead of a pale green skin. The grapes do well as they burn with purple and green starlight. Strawberries blush as if lit like coal. Outlined with golden light, the lemongrass and chives pulse slow and steady.

The light becomes overwhelming to witness, because no other dark farm of Nesterly possesses such intensity.

Near every plant glows thanks to domesticated fungus found in the cave networks of the Deep Below. The agricultural geniuses of the Golden City have perfected the chemical and biological aspects of this ancient fungus since its ancient discovery. Daylight being a necessity for agriculture has become a thing of the past with the way this modified fungus joins with plants or animals.

Under a microscope, there is a sparkling light within every plant cell. This new and abundant organelle mocks a spinning torch, absorbing organic fuel to keep the fire going. This flame rakes across the cellulose capsule it is contained within, producing excessive energy for photosynthesis. The light is not an actual fire but rather a chemical reaction aided by soil fertilizer, or so, this is what Reifa has tried to explain to her siblings. She truthfully has never discovered the reason behind the organelle, because the truth would overwhelm her and the rest of these rabbits.

The one thing that makes the Thumper's dark farm unique is that the illuminated growth is far more successful due to their lapin feces. The feces of any other species in Nesterly has far less of an effect compared to that of this, particularly unique lapin.

Cecil likes to imagine he has a grasp on the concept of how the plants make his eyes glow and how his poop feeds the plants. The eldest siblings of this family have gathered their theories, but one thing remains certain; their father knows the scientific facts and refuses to share it.

Without a proper answer as to how their farm remains this successful, Cecil thinks back to his accepted theory,

The luminescent chemical from the broken organelles bio-accumulates within the rabbit's blood, and in particular tissue, the fungus adheres better. This infection is why many Animalia throughout the Accursed Valley and The Coffin have both glowing eyes and a glowing mouth. Once the chemical takes, that is pretty much it. Animalia's eyes will glow even after they die. So will some of their insides or even their very blood. It affects every Animalia differently, and no two of the same species can be affected the same way, as some can also become immune to the fungus.

After Animalia acquire much of this glow, the excess of it leaves the body when defecating. This remains Cecil's big theory, and that this is all one big cycle of accumulation.

He could not be further from the truth.

The center pillar of the farm is a column of reinforced concrete from the top level to the bottom. There are square sockets across the central support for ironwood beams that reach to the outer walls.

Ironwood can interchange with concrete or metal, and the material comes from The Crazen Bog, where the behemoth trees grow. The wood is not iron, but the trees do absorb the alloy sludge in high concentrations from the rust-filth bog.

He crosses a stone path to reach the center of the spiral farm. The central path is a flight of stairs. He glides his fingers across the pillar to his left while climbing his way to the top.

On the third level, he finds his sister Renee toiling away at the soil.

After a flickering her ears, she elevates her head just above the tuber patch and gives her older brother an everyday smile before getting back to work.

He had not a moment to reply before she has her face buried in soil.

Renee has a buxom figure which she conceals beneath layers of modesty. She wears sturdy, rugged clothing and keeps her long hair locked in a clamp all day. With a soft face framed in puffy cheeks, she should not be considered a pushover. She is as stern as Maela, but not as short-tempered. She will speak her peace and be done with it, because she fears that gripping anger for too long will wrinkle her face and make her fur shed.

He continues up the inner spiral until reaching the hydroponics farm on the first level.

Buraldin is presently sorting and organizing a batch of harvested herbs and sprouts before he proportions it for the kitchen. He glances at his eldest sibling and gives half a smile before going back to work. He is fifteen, born immediately after Yaril. He has a midnight coat speckled with white spots similarly to their mother's pattern. His glowing sapphire eyes are focused on his work. His brow is sharp like a warrior, but his cheeks are plump from always chewing on a tough root. His lean body gives him the primary role as missive carrier for their father, making Buraldin the youngest allowed to leave the den by himself.

The door to their father's office remains open, where it is customarily shut and locked. It is a door ready to fall off rusted hinges. It is an old oak door, one that has met an Ironwood Termite before a Dark Buzzer could hunt the pests through the wood.

Cecil looks upon this sad door and promises he will one day replace it with or without his father's blessing.

Dim light from lanterns and candles within Grean's study emit a cozy vibe.

Vick, the shortest of the eldest males, stands in the doorway with his arms tightly crossed. He is eighteen years old, born second of his litter between Mikna and Nal. His fur is solid midnight like Cecil's. He hosts a rather scary face, often appearing to be scowling. His mood can easily match his appearance, and the upward pointing bangs leading his buzz cut do not help. He has several scars from lessons not fully learned while being the den's metalworker. His green eyes do not glow. Fresh from work, he wears a fire retardant robe and leather apron. Kurinne fashioned it for Vick, making it the very last article of clothing she ever sewed. Vick wears it with utmost pride. The cuffs of the robe are tied around Vick's elbow, leaving his hands bare. He would be wearing mitts if he were working.

Vick perks his ears toward the ceiling once he notices Cecil's blue eyes illuminating the walls. "Hey there, Sleeper."

"Hey, Vick," Cecil responds while resting his mattock beside the door.

Vick lets Cecil pass before following and closing the door.

Cecil gives a nod to Carr, who comfortably sits in one of the two available chairs. The awkward silence tells the eldest son that no small talk occurred while his two brothers waited.

Carr smiles back, being the third born of the den, after Maela. He possesses mostly midnight fur, save for where the tips of his coat turn abruptly to the snowy-white. A light blue flat cap rests over his messy hair. He is an inch shorter than Cecil, but unlike Cecil's lean figure, Carr possesses a chubby belly to show for his chosen expertise as chef and brewer. At nineteen, he has put his share of effort into developing the kitchen into a food factory. His glowing emerald eyes burn with questions. He is not curious about anything, but he has this quizzical look stuck on his face. Carr wears a stiff uniform that Alic fashioned for the cooking staff. Carr appears entirely professional as he matches the part of someone who works in a bustling restaurant. Stains run the collar, and his left sleeve remains dotted in sauce. He pleasantly reeks of steamed vegetables and pickled mushrooms.

Across from Carr and behind his oak desk sits their father.

Grean's midnight fur is uncommon among the local rabbits. Black or a dark gray, indeed. Mention a dark midnight blue coat, and few will believe it. He has the stoic eyes of someone who has fought and conquered worlds. The visible scars on his face and collar tell it so, though he never speaks of how he earned any of them, not even to his children or wife. He wears a black brocade doublet with silver-embroidered epaulets that host no rank. The collared tunic beneath the doublet shines mahogany in color. Black velvet breeches end at his knees. Leather hock-guards hold comfortably to his ankles, keeping each set of four monstrous toes bare. Each foot is a furry anvil, appearing quite capable of splitting the foundation of a city, and his fierce gaze proves he would not hesitate to do just that if threatened.

Grean's leather-back chair creaks as he leans forward.

The walls of this room are covered in various types of shelves, presenting an ultimate collection of knowledge from the more magnificent cities of the world -- books on architecture, engineering, history, and other curiosities. A deep cabinet that contains Grean's schematics and blueprints are left open to show the corrugated slots positively filled with documents. The dark lacquer gives all of the furniture and shelving in Grean's office a homely feel. The room fondly reeks of charred wood, cigar, and cannabis.

Over Grean's left shoulder and the only thing to interrupt the wall of shelves is his most significant and most prized possession.

The Beastiariae del Vaelafthria. An ultimate compendium of Animalia, Feralia, Monstaeria, and Mythaelie. The book is caged within an iron chassis resembling a dense set of molars. It is a wretched and out of place thing within the den.

Cecil does not believe his father knows yet that he found the hidden key to the protective case that contains the Bestiary. Cecil's eyes never look toward his left, to that middle bookshelf where Ottentrotter's blank book rests.

Grean lowers his chin and points his nose to the available chair. Everyone knows Vick would rather stand, especially while wearing his stiff apron.

Cecil accepts and eases his rump onto the cushion. Air escapes beneath his weight as he bears down.

"How's the expansion?" Grean asks with a voice as firm as ganite.

"Great," Cecil states as he finishes settling in. "The kits need to finish carving the walls for the furniture and brick. There's a lot of limestone left to carve out for the floors. Uh, Maela is still halting work in the main chamber with that hole she's digging. I don't think she's finding anything in the clay but bits of rust."

Grean smiles with pride. "If she's your mother's daughter, my eldest girl knows how to squeeze gold from dirt. Let her dig. Any other issues?"

Cecil shakes his head, curiously studying his father. Grean sounds to be expecting Maela to find something. "No, Dad, no other issues." He will leave it at that.

"Has Ike been throwing rocks down the hole?"

Cecil angles his head to the right, thinking on that. "Not to my knowledge, Dad. You know he wouldn't dare try with Maela and Cassidy beside him. And, Dad, you know that Ike will never forgive you if you don't let him be the first to take a dump in that hole."

Carr and Vick snicker at that because they agree with the assessment.

"Good. Nothing important." Grean states. He looks to Vick. "How're you doing with my work orders?"

Vick looks uneasy. "I'm having trouble hammering the plate. We should find a metalworker in the city."

"What's been the problem? The plate isn't too thick, is it?"

Vick lowers his head and lets out a sigh. He keeps his eyes lowered as he explains, "Getting a rolling machine will help. Trying to hammer the shapes out with my lack of grip is just not working."

Grean puts his finger on the desk. "Forget the projects. Keep recycling. Make smaller plates with the cast-iron molds. Alic and Gordon can fashion smaller pieces into layers." he says before pondering on the order. "Yeah. Use the smaller molds from now on. Punch holes in the plates to Gordon and Alic's specifications. Those boys can thread leather through the plates as needed."

Vick gives a weak smile. His crooked incisors show in the dim lantern light.

"I knew you'd enjoy that," Grean says. "because you love making armor, don't you?"

"Yeah," Vick lies, invigorated with false happiness. Of course, he is acting his excitement. This task is miserable news for him. "I was wondering if I can make another dagger since my last one," Vick pulls his blade free of the leather scabbard to display it. "worked out pretty well, don't you think?" It is a crude and overly sharpened dagger lacking the decorations his design art possesses. At least the blade is straight this time, but no one is impressed. Vick makes excellent equipment for the kitchen; Knives, ladles, forks. Somehow he is clueless at his only passion: Weapons.

"I'm sorry, son, the armor pieces are your priority."

Carr wears his inspired expression, showing off his thoughtfully concerned eyes. "Why do we need armored clothes? That's not going to stop a bullet. Claws and teeth, sure. Not a bullet."

Grean looks to Carr. "I want my children prepared for dark alleys or getting stabbed on crowded streets. You all know why Essa came back from her school. It wasn't_because_ her school was fake."

"That school is no longer there," Vick says, adding, "After Essa left, the place got demolished by a tremor. What a coincidence."

Grean frowns. "I did not get the chance to give the headmaster a piece of my foot. The ceiling did that for me." He holds his right hand out for his sons. "Hear me out on this. I want you all prepared. Buying protective gear in the city is a complete rip-off. Everything is second-hand scraps, mottled and held together by string. I know my kids can make better."

Vick nods. "You're right." He looks at Carr. "We've been in The Coffin. We've seen how Animalia dress in the city. Everyone either wears slutty rags or full head to toe armor of leather and steel. It all looked like shit. That gear changes owners way too quick,"

"--Because it does shit to protect who wears it," Cecil mutters the obvious.

Vick laughs to that. "Yeah. I'd never want to get stuck in a situation where I'd have to wear city armor. Some of the leather vests I saw were decades old and crumbling from mold. The red rot is on everything. The diseases you'd catch from rubbing your elbows in a sleeve or having that kind of belt beneath your stomach," He shudders and rubs his arms. "Yeah, I'd rather we go in home-made gear."

"What about the figurines?" Carr asks.

"What figurines?" Vick asks. His eyes widen when he remembers. "Oh! The stuff that Sena's working on?"

Carr nods.

Grean presses a finger to his desk. "I told her to end her work. The contract will have to wait. We need that noble's iron for the armor. I don't want to hear her speak about how much money those figurines will make."

"Yeah, but Dad, her figurines _do_make a killer profit, making Sena our biggest earner." Vick reminds Grean. He adorns himself a mildly sullen face. "The big problem with your order is that Sena acquired that once-in-a-lifetime commission to make a full Kingdoms set for some wealthy guy. He gave her all of the iron and wax she would need to make it all, too. But--"

"I know," Grean interrupts. "Use the iron for us. It's a very pure iron."

"But, Dad," Vick says, his pitch rising, "She'll have to pay the guy back. She's scheduled to give him a full set of figurines in another year. She has a hundred more pieces to go!"

Grean holds his hand up. "Don't you worry about that. Just use the iron. We can get more later. Vick, I need you to turn that pure iron into plates. Okay? Can you do this for me?"

Vick looks terribly confused with the request. "Fine, fine. I don't mind making the pieces of armor, but you've had me making them for half the season now. I don't have any time to work on my own stuff or to make new tools to replace old ones. I still have to finish a door handle and latch for someone, plus, my new door still needs to be put together!"

Grean never takes his eyes off Vick. "I know. I know. You'll get your chance to work, Son. Please, keep busy on the plates, and I know that Keel has the same concern. I'll speak to him and the others later."

"Okay," Vick says. He lowers his chin in frustration and dismay.

Carr chuckles. "Still, though, I'm surprised how much silver they pay for Sena's figurines."

"And mine," Vick roars. "Remember, I made a few of those too."

"I know! Vick, I know."

"Sometimes, I wonder, Carr."

Carr frowns, not knowing what that was all about.

Vick's eyes are staring down at the front of his father's desk. His mind wanders among all of the things Carr forgets.

Grean reels Vick out of his daydream. "Are our stocks good?"

Vick takes a second to catch up. "Stocks?"

"Storage. Stone, clay, copper, iron." Grean says in a tired voice. He ignores the scoffing chuckle that Cecil and Carr share.

Vick scoffs, "That's Keel's department,"

Grean strongly reminds Vick, "That's also your department."

"Oh, yes!" Vick quickly says, scowling at his brothers. "Keel and I worked a long shift to count and weigh everything. We have enough clay and mortar to finish the main paths and the expansion. We should have enough limestone. We_should_have more than enough ironwood boards for the shelves." he says, stating the facts. "Why Animalia keep throwing out this stuff is a complete fucking mystery to me." referencing back to how successful their last trip to the city scrapyard was.

"Make armor with the clay." Grean orders.

All three sons stare at their father with bewilderment.

"Are we going to war?" Vick asks with a lick of sarcasm.

Cecil angrily asks, "Dad, what about the expansion?" He watches his father raise his hand to stop his words, but he continues despite his father's gesture. "We need to set the floor and shelves. We need to get the walls up." He holds his hand up to emphasize his points. "Dad. We don't need_this much armor in the city when we can leap up walls and bound across fifty-foot gaps." He looks to his brothers, especially Vick before he returns those glowing sapphires to his father. "Dad, we've _never_needed armor. Not like _this. How many times have we traveled in and through the districts? We've only been mugged that one time, and the only Animalia who give us ill pass are the Guard."

"Yeah, and Dad," Vick adds. "All of us together couldn't even carry half the plates you would have us make. There's not enough of us. It's unnecessary! I don't even think our wagon could carry it all."

Grean waves a dismissive hand in the air. "I understand. Right now, Son, I want the work in the expansion to stop. I want all non-essential labor kits focusing on their studies instead." He looks at Carr. "Start cooking up our perishables, spend the rest of your free time making preserved goods. I want as much as possible canned. Dried, salted, jerked, I want travel-ready foods that won't spoil, because it is time that some of you start moving out." He looks to Vick. "I want plates of iron and bronze used for armor. Stop making your weapons. Stop making your tools unless you need them for this task. Melt scrap and melt the dinner sets from storage." He finishes with Cecil. "Stop the digging. Stop discarding the rock. Spend your free time teaching as much about math and economics as you think the kits can handle. No more algebra shit. Teach them stuff that will help them survive like how to find work and pay bills. Teach them how to barter."

The three brothers gave each other a glance. They then stare at their father, utterly confused as he stares back. He is not making sense to them, and it is scary because none of them ever planned on leaving.

Cecil wonders why his father has not told him sooner. The amount of dirt and rock discarded today could get saved.

"Uh, Dad--?" Carr starts to say.

"This is what I want everyone to do. Trust me. There's a plan and a reason. I want the expansion halted until I decide what to do with the hole."

Carr looks to Vick with questions burning bright in his eyes that silently beg his brother. Why is Dad asking this of us?

Vick shrugs.

"How's the kitchen doing?" Grean asks Carr.

Carr lifts his brow and whips his head back to look at his father. "Good! Everything is good. The farm is producing a lot. Everyone is eating. Brilando is happy. We're good. Great, even!"

There is an awkward silence after Carr's words. His response was too quick, and it helps no one that he stares back, smiling as wide as possible. His flat cap starts to slip as he sinks into the chair.

Grean keeps his eyes trained on his guilt-ridden son.

Carr continues to shrink in his chair. He wishes for just this moment he can disappear to a safe place where he does not have to explain anything confusing.

Grean holds a hand open toward Carr. "Carr, Would you like to share what happened this morning?"

"No."

Vick and Cecil wear a knowing scowl.

Carr shifts around in his seat. He fails at finding comfort in the cushions and shakes his head.

"Carr?" Grean repeats. His voice deeper, stronger.

Carr darts his eyes between the front of the desk and his father's hands. He closes his eyes, panicking from embarrassment. "Brilando caught Nal and Andesto."

Vick perks an eyebrow. "Caught them--?" He glares at his father and then swings that fury toward Carr, "Again?!"

Cecil averts his eyes and sucks on his teeth. He crosses his arms. "Black Celestiae."

Carr looks to the left to avoid his brother's and father's disappointing gaze. Carr emits a _heavy_sigh. He finds a foul taste that he cannot rid himself of, no matter how much saliva he swallows.

"Carr, report to the heads of this estate. Tell your brothers what you told me so they too can act accordingly around our two delinquents." Grean says with a fiery tone.

Carr finds the pinnacle of frustration and yaps it out quick-like. "Nal and Andesto were fucking in the storage room." He inhales and exhales his frustration. He grits his teeth before speaking in a calmer and more collective tone. "Brilando walked in on them, to help them finish restocking. He caught them after they were uh, finishing. Brilando got scared. Not knowing what they were doing, he ran out of the kitchen and into the dining hall, screaming. He almost blurted it out to everyone eating breakfast."

Cecil remains motionless. He does not want to be associated with those who break the rules of granted-nobility. With incest, at that. "We need to _deal_with this."

Vick cannot wipe the cunning smirk off of his face. "We're not seriously going to banish them, are we?" He believes the answer is obvious. He smirks because his mind lingers on a childish joke. Brilando caught them stocking something, alright.

Grean tilts his head, considering banishment since the first incident. He looks at Carr, who is rapidly shaking his head. Grean says, "I'll leave the decision up to the master of the kitchen. That chamber is your kingdom, Carr. Have you come to a decision?"

Carr sighs with relief. "Yes. Daily monitoring. I'll let them know that one more time, they're out."

Grean narrows his eyes. "They might not disagree with being sent to the city if they have the good feels. It's the pleasure of these taboos that coaxes Dragons to purge."

Carr clears his throat and whispers, "Dad, we don't need to say the P-word."

"Dad, you sound like half of the religious nuts in the city. If Dragons purge civilization because of incest, they're a few centuries behind on this part of the world." Cecil states while ignoring Carr's flailing hand. "Royalty are all about keeping the line pure. They pair up siblings before they're even born. We, as granted-nobility, makes it felonious, and need to deal with this problem, and we need to deal with it now. They'll infect others."

Grean gives Cecil a glance before he returns his eyes to Carr. He does not disagree. "Cecil makes the decision to banish them. Carr, even your indecisive brother wants to act with castigation."

Carr shakes his head and shrugs. "Well, I'm not sending my brother and sister to the wolves because one or both are confused."

Grean agrees with that, as well. "Good. Nothing should have to come to that choice unless we have a murder." He lowers his chin and speaks with a dreadful voice, "Imagine for a moment, what would happen if Nal has an incest litter?" He lets the idea sink in before he continues, "How fast do you think they'd revoke our entitlement? Do you know how many of your siblings will be thrown to the wolves after revocation? We would lose two-thirds of the den in a single collection."

The fear flows out of Carr's eyes. Vick's eyes share empathy for the weight Carr has on his shoulders. Cecil has long since crossed his arms while averting his gaze. If he looks at Carr, he will glare at his brother for letting shit like this go on. Carr's eyes dart around as he tries to contemplate how to fix the damage.

"You're overthinking it." Grean states.

Carr struggles to slam the breaks on his turbulent thoughts. He sits on the edge of the chair. He holds on to his father's desk. "Then--what am I supposed to do? Even if we cut them off, we can't stop how they feel. They're_confused_. How do other families deal with it?"

"The fucks that live across Nesterly embrace this shit because there's no persecution to families without a title," Grean says with animosity. "They all_fucking do it--damn animals. High Royal families do it to keep their blood _pure, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. Damn us all if someone in the middle has it happen. Everyone sits around, buried in their corrosive filth, waiting for us to fall. The silver spoon feeders at the top don't want us elevating to royalty. They fear we'll surpass them in the Noble Court. The _peasants_at the bottom wish we knew the same poverty that they do as if we never suffer a thing unless we offer the same taxes as they do. Jealous bitches." He loosely crosses his arms.

"This familiar home." Grean continues. "With you all growing up and trying to figure yourselves out, much has changed. Faster than I can keep up. I know it's not your sibling's fault for having these defects. This side of the world is a terrible influence. You boys visit enough dens to see relatives of other families fondly committed. This side of the world is so fucking backward in its priorities and social hierarchy. No wonder their criminal ancestors were exiled from Miesta. No wonder the life expectancy rate is below nineteen in that buried city beneath us." He growls with frustration. "Before I met your mother, someone once told me that The Coffin was a failed Dragon purge. They buried the whole diseased metropolis under a mountain and forgot to step on it."

"Still," Cecil says, he tries to steer the conversation back before his dad goes on a political and societal rampage. "We have no tolerance for this bullshit, regardless of our name or title or neighborhood. It's wrong by nature."

Vick and Carr are nodding in agreement.

"Anyone who reads a book on biology _knows_it is wrong. Things fail after enough generations of it. There is the fact that every neighbor around us does it for generations _just_to get crippled kits born for their taxes." Cecil growls the same way as his father, absorbing Grean's anger. "Fuck, I hate this place. Have they no dignity to their evolution from walking on four legs? No wonder the Life-Breathers wish to purge civilization off the map and start over. We should move to Miesta, where there is no Life Tax, inbreeding is punishable by death, and Animalia work in high-paying factories."

"Tell us how you really feel, Cees." Vick retorts.

Carr throws his hands up in defeat. "Again, what the fuck do I do?" He looks across to Cecil.

Grean leans to his right. He pulls his left leg up to tuck his ankle under his right knee. "That's easy," he says. He sits upright. "For now, we do just as the rest of the whoring nobles do. We lie and hide our demons in a basement where no tax collector or guard will sniff. Remember, we're of real noble-blood. Citizens don't openly accuse us of wrongs without irrefutable proof presented by another noble, soldier, esquire, or royal. Do everything you can to ensure these two are not in heat for each other. If _we_can smell it, so too can the Guard and so too can our neighbors. Short of locking them up on opposite sides of the den, this is all we can do. No crime goes unnoticed to the keenly trained snouts of our herders."

"Bry keeps being the one walking in on them," Vick says.

Cecil looks at Vick and asks, "Does Sena or Keel know?"

Vick shakes his head to dismiss the two. "I--don't think so. Alic knows, he came and asked me. He said he could smell it on them. Maela and Kurinne know. So do Reifa and Renee. I think Desmond knows."

"Yeah, Desmond knows," Cecil informs. "He was down the hall the last time Brilando ran out of the storeroom screaming. He might not know about this time, but if you all are wondering why Desmond and Andesto got into that fight a while back, now you know why. They still avoid each other."

"Most of the den avoids Andesto," Vick mutters. "Useless fuck."

"And my entire staff knows," Carr says over Vick. "It took everything to hold Mikna back from punching Andesto a second time. No one disgraces the sanctity of where we keep our food. That's just--wrong. We have rules."

"Does Mom know?" Cecil asks.

Grean is quick to very intently shaking his head with wide eyes. "Oh, no-no. We are _NOT_telling Laela about this. This very thing was a _big_problem in her family. Not her immediate family, but her cousins that lived within a partition of her den, and who had_very_confused parents," Grean hauls his heavy eyes to Cecil. "Including and _especially_the Dalint lineage who once held the same title that we hold. Not anymore." He lets that repulsive information soak into his indecisive son. "Your mother watched entire surnames of rabbits breed each other senseless, siblings and parents and cousins until Ser Vuraticus Cadburent presented that entire lineage to the wolves in one collection and begged the wolves to remove their corruption from the world in order to save his own title."

Cecil knows this story, so he remains quiet.

"Including your very girlfriend and cousin." He notices Cecil's face twitch to that word so he course-corrects himself, "Sorry, your not-girlfriend, girlfriend, cousin-in-law, is the daughter of incest. Fauna's mother is also her sister, and her grandmother is also her sister. Dagon Dalint, if not marrying his daughters off to wealthier families, does what he needs to to ensure he remains alive while gray. His daughters either join his harem or they flee to the city and never come back. Aside from our true title and tax break, Fauna desperately hopes you rescue her from her father."

"And I want nothing to do with her, or anyone who is also technically related to my mother. Fauna is still my cousin."

Vick reminds his brother of a simple fact, "You still sleep with her."

"I pull out."

"That's not the fucking point, she's your cousin."

"Vick, you like her, too."

"That's, also, not the point!"

Carr simply frowns from guilt. "So, that first time you broke up with her and she came to me for support, I, uh, gave my virginity to my cousin?"

Cecil drops his head and whimpers.

Vick clears his throat. He did not mean to, but now he has the attention of his brothers and father. "I still have a crush on her."

"And so the noose tightens. Fauna is not your genetic cousin, she's several degrees removed from a different family that might not even be related to the Cadburent line, so don't freak out over it. Your common ancestor was from many, many generations ago, if ever." Grean softly says. "Still, your mother watched her father, Ser Vuraticus Cadburent, waste that filth out of his home, leaving only the Dalint line intact and banished. Only the ones directly related to the Cadburent line got ended, and not the Dalint line that just married into this sub-family."

"Damn," Vick whispers. "How--How many lapin got taken?"

"Ninety-two, including kits and three pregnant mothers," Grean says, staring Vick dead in the eyes.

"And the wolves just _took_them?!" Carr morosely asks.

"At first? No. The wolves were happy with the situation; those rabbits were all so productive. 'Meat is Meat. Meals are Meals.' Wolves don't care if their food is born deformed or simple." Grean sadly says. "Ser Vuraticus had to convince Aerleskis Claw to take them after that family line corrupted the Dalint line, and then started corrupting Ser Vuraticus' children." He taps his nose then points to Carr, adding, "Raeb, the third commander of our tax collection den, he took them. The sick fuck was promised the right to breed them twisted and broke. Wretched inbred wolf that he is, keeps that entire rabbit lineage alive and busy. You'll know him if you see him. He has a mouth full of ingrown teeth and a misshapen head. I spotted him in an instant during my first visit here. That Raeb, he breeds inbreeding Animalia with each other over and over to see what little demons spawn, claiming they taste better. I guess, living for centuries gets real fucking boring for wolves, so this must be like, taking up gardening or something."

The three sons stare at their father with disturbed eyes.

Grean stares into Carr's eyes. "Son, don't worry so hard about this thing with Nal and Andesto. As terrifying and as disgusting as it is in retrospect, this is only bad if someone outside the den catches the two. A neighbor will have to know a noble in the Courts or a wolf personally. Good luck finding anyone in Nesterly who is friendly to a royal, true noble of the Golden City, or a wolf."

Carr does not buy it. He hugs himself. "I'm sorry this is happening." His weak voice is rightly on the verge of tears.

Cecil witnesses his brother trapped in a corner. This department is Carr's. Of course, his brother feels responsible for letting the situation escalate.

Vick puts his hand on Carr's shoulder. "Carr, it's cool. This shit happens in every big family. Look at what that older brother of Fauna's did to his baby sisters all those years. That fucking pedophile is still alive and breathing."

Cecil is quick to reply with, "I wouldn't say that's the same thing. Barnum raped his baby sisters, and when the constabulary caught him, his dad thought only the best for him, rewarded him, even, by offering him up to the constabulary. Families don't punish their inbreeders or rapists like they should. Dagon set Barnum up with a half-noble girl fresh out of the Golden City as long as he became a soldier. Dagon got him a labor oversight position on top of that. Dagon thought that the hardship of factory labor and being the lowest rank of nobility would _fix_Barnum while his son ships restitution and wealth back to the den. Barnum made a decent soldier, but he ended up failing miserably another way."

"The albino?" Grean asks.

Cecil nods. "Yeah. Barnum was away from home, on some skirmish outside The Coffin when his wife's litter came prematurely. She had three healthy kits, then the fourth came out. Albino."

"What?!" Carr shouts. "THAT_Barnum? Fauna's older brother, _Barnum?! He has albino genes? Did that red-eyed baby kill anyone?"

Cecil maintains a slow, strained exhale to calm his brother down. "The Golden City killed Barnum's entire litter and the noble girl. They blamed it on the girl, as most families and authority do, and still, nobody wants to mate nor eat Barnum since. They cut his dick and balls off, which is what they should have done when he did what he did to his sisters."

Vick guards his crotch with his hands. "I didn't fucking know that about Barnum! Holy Dragon's Shit! He has no dick? That makes me happy, because he deserves that. Why didn't they just kill him? He should get dead."

Cecil ignores the interruption, "He's been _excused_from taxes since the albino, since he can't seem to do anything right. Does anyone even know why wolves made albinos an illegal thing? Are they dangerous Animalia because they lack pigment, or do they taste awful?"

"Boys," Grean tries to get in, to get back on-topic.

Carr answers his brother, "You don't know? Albinos on this side of the world are born with weird abilities reserved for wolves. One albino, in theory, could become powerful enough to end all of civilization, and that's because the wolves had an albino they called Ghost. She almost killed everything with kindness."

"That's not real. The hate on albinos is just a stupid, invented stigma." Vick angrily says. "Animalia just hate on Animalia who look different."

"No, Vick, remember Ghost from Essa's history class?" Carr asks and immediately Vick shakes his head with denial on the subject. "She was the only albino wolf in all of history and if they let her live, she could have ended all life on this planet. Her ability to heal anyone or anything was unheard of, but anything she healed, never died. Animalia and beasts would rot away, walking off mortal wounds that never healed again after her first touch. None of them could reproduce or become food. All of her healed victims were walking corpses full of disease and bile."

"Oh. I don't believe that shit." Cecil says while looking at his father's face as he makes an expression to agree with Carr.

The three sons and their father sit there in awkward silence.

Vick asks. "Carr, who do you think started it? Nal or Andesto?"

"I think it was Nal that started it," Carr says.

Grean shakes his head. "When two of near-ilk are involved like this, they're both to blame. Don't go blaming her cause she's the female. We're not the Golden City's highborn."

Another ominous silence falls over the office.

"How's Kurinne doing?" Grean asks. He looks to Carr first, then Vick.

"She isn't eating well," Cecil says. His eyes avoid his father's. Anytime he thinks of his sister Kurinne, he imagines her forcing that great big smile across her face. Tears in the corners of her eyes. She looks to be having the time of her life to fight excruciating pain and it breaks Cecil's heart just thinking about her desperate smile.

Carr stares fiercely at his brother. "I personally made her lunch. She still couldn't eat it?"

"Well," Cecil leans to his left side to inch away from Vick, who leans against the back of his chair. "Ike was acting like a dumb shit, and then he stepped in Yaril's food. Yaril was about to start a fight with Ike, but Kurinne intervened in that way she does and offered Yaril her food." Cecil says. Cecil lowers his eyes again. He stares at a dark corner under his father's desk. "You know how it is. When she talks in that soft, sad voice, we all stop and listen. Yaril calmed right down and was happy to do anything for Kurinne. Still, I think she offered it because she has no appetite left."

"Because," Vick says, then whispering, "Everyone knows she'll be the first."

Cecil stares at the floor in a glum state. "Yeah. I think she was having trouble swallowing. She was sipping her tea slower than usual. She finished it, I think." He tries not to sound all too worried. The family has had a while to prepare for the heartbreak.

"Did she take her medicine?" Grean asks.

Carr thinks about that. "She left a note wanting her medicine mixed into her tea. If she drank it, she took her medicine. Phew, I'm glad I didn't put anything extra into her food or Yaril would be all sorts of confused with why his pee smells bitter, or why his body is numb from the painkillers."

"I'm going to miss Kurinne," Vick says somberly with his voice cracking. He buried his snout into his sleeve to wipe his cheeks of the tears.

They know there is nothing to be done for Kurinne except ease her final days. The three brothers notice their father shifting his weight. He makes that expression where he sort of frowns to the things he cannot fix and exhales through his nose. He is going to get back on the subject with something they can fix.

Grean lifts his head to address his concerns. "Do we need to spell it out for Brilando about what his brother and sister were doing? Sometimes his soft-cheeked simpleton personality confuses me. I can't tell if he's dumb or if he's acting."

Vick sniffles and wipes his face before he looks to his father to say, "He knows they were mating." He looks at Carr. "Brilando has his moments where we all think he's some grand dumb shit, but we all know that he's one of the smartest in the den," He shares a look of confidence with his brothers and his father. "Bry knows. Anyway, Bry has that babe from the Gloamwoods chasing after his scut. He's quite familiar with mateship."

"Yeah, but Bry turned that big beast down. He says he loves someone else." Carr says.

Grean sighs. "We're getting off-topic again."

Their father gets ignored.

Vick quirks a brow. "Brilando has a new girlfriend?" He appears bewildered. His gigantic fat brother goes through females faster than Vick can even introduce himself to a single one.

Carr nods. "Yeah, but I think they're just courting. I don't know who. They are pen pals. I don't know if they met in person. I bet Reifa or Sena would know. They catch everything."

"I didn't think Brilando was a love-writer. Come to think of it," Vick thinks on it. "I _do_see Brilando scribbling stuff in that wavy style. His calligraphy is gorgeous! He puts drawings all over it too. I never know what he's up to cause he hides it from me."

Cecil smiles at this. "I'm happy for Brilando. I hope he meets whoever he's talking to. He'd make an incredible father one day."

Carr looks at Vick to agree before he looks at Cecil.

Vick looks at Cecil. Their father also looks at Cecil. Everyone is staring at Cecil now.

Cecil's eyes move between the three staring at him. "What?"

"What? When are you going to say yes to Fauna?" Vick asks, equipping a flirtatious grin.

Cecil sits still. "My cousin?" His chair no longer remains comfortable. With his eyes closed, he can still feel the gaze of the three on him. "We're just friends."

"Oh please, that's not what she wants," Carr says.

"Cees', when are you going to bind yourself to her?" Vick whines. "You got to lock that anklet, bro! Come on; there are a thousand bucks waiting for you to drop dead so they can have a shot. She ain't going for no one else but you! Ten years now, Cees'!" He grabs his right fist with his left hand and whispers, "Lock it in! Or step aside so I can! Hey, have you seen how Rhy is around her?" He continues grappling his right fist with his left hand and intently whispers, "Lock. It. In."

Cecil shakes his head and peers away, smiling. "I'm not ready. I'm busy working on my stuff," He waves a dismissive hand through the air. "And stop using terms that dogs use. It's weird."

Grean leans forward until his elbows rest on his desk. He presses his hands together to rest his chin. His chair creaks to the shifting weight. "Son, you're twenty. You have plenty of time with your entitlement, but I wouldn't wait around when you've got a fine girl like this vixen-rabbit chasing after you. After reminiscing on all of the females that offered themselves to you, she is by far the finest lapin, inbred or not, I'd ever seen, even if all she wants is protection from the Life Tax and her family." He clears his throat as he sinks slowly into his chair. "Don't tell your mother I said that."

Vick holds his hands up toward his chest, jiggling the invisible orbs within. "And her tits! Those things are megalithic!"

Carr sighs. "Vick, That's not the only reason you get a female. Procreation, Vick. Taxes, Vick, taxes."

Cecil holds his palm to his forehead. "I don't even like big breasts. They're, so weird on an Animalia. Why do they even exist?"

His brothers ignore him.

Vick holds his hands up in defense. "Hey, I know that. I'm just saying. She's short and stacked," His eyes start to wander before him as he envisions her figure. "She's got that ass and that puff tail and that soft brown fur, and those big brown eyes and that playfulness to her and she's just--she's perfect!"

"Sounds like you're in love with her far more than Cecil." Grean teases.

"Dad," Vick whines. "If she were after me since we were little like she was with Cees, I'd have locked that in the day I hit puberty. I'd have locked that shit on the first day I knew what marriage and mating was."

"And you'd be a child starting your den, like all of the teenagers on this side of the world," Carr states. "or you'd be here living with us and having your kids running around and stealing Andya's doll alongside Garrett."

"Oh, I mean, I don't want to take care of them." Vick says, "Have them, sure, but,"

Cecil now has both hands pressed to his forehead.

"Wait; what?" Carr asks. "You want to have kids, but not take care of them?"

Vick snorts and scoffs off responsibilities. "I have shit to do."

"Now you sound like Cecil, but lacking morality," Grean says.

Cecil sits there, sulking. He drowns out his two brothers and his father as they continue to banter. He thinks about Fauna with sincere regret. He thinks about all of the girls that have tried throwing themselves at him for one reason or another. He hates feeling so damn conceited when so many intelligent and stunningly beautiful does were giving it their all just to draw his eyes on them.

Fauna was different than the rest. Very different. She was the only one who actually tried talking to Cecil and then getting to know him and letting him get to know her back. She shared her dreams with him and she made sure that he shared his. Fauna has been gambling dangerously on Cecil accepting her, and that crushes this buck's heart to know she has yet to move onward. She is twenty-two and has not a child to show for the taxes looming over her shoulders.

Cecil is not shy about how physically close he is with Fauna. He tried to give her more than his embrace and to find ways to have honest feelings for her. Yes, he believes her to be insanely attractive and several tiers above his league. His attempts to give her more has granted a very confusing friendship. He has made himself clear that he wants nothing more than the bond they have.

The main reason is because of his forced dreams, even if that is him making excuses for himself.

"All those nights together. I bet Cecil was like a corpse, dreaming away." Vick says.

Cecil pulls himself from his thoughts. "Look, if I settle down with someone, I'll make it on my terms. I'm aware of the laws, and I know my life is forfeit if I fuck that up. I know! Alright?! I know!" He pauses to think. "Plus, I'd rather start a family down on the peninsula. Under the sun."

"Cecil, what's the real reason? Is it the dreams you have?" Carr asks.

Cecil struggles not to roll his eyes. "You know it's because of the dreams."

Vick holds his hand out. "But, Cecil, she knows about the dreams. She knows how it works--"

"What if something happens?" Cecil interrupts. "What if they need my help? What if they can't wake me up?" He lowers his chin, giving his father a dramatic stare. "What if they do wake me?"

That is ample enough to hush them. No one has yet forgotten what happened with Cassidy. A year ago, their aggressively caring little sister forcefully woke Cecil up by shrieking into his face. In his dream, he was having a heated disagreement with someone, when his eyes opened to Cassidy, he was still in the dream, only it was his little sister he was strangling. There are two scars on the side of Cecil's head where Maela whopped him with one of his tools to save Cassidy. It took two hits to his head to knock him back into his dream and off of Cassidy.

Grean takes a moment to study each of his sons. His eyes travel from Cecil to Vick to Carr and then back to Cecil. "On the subject of your dreams, anything new happen since last week's meeting?" He asks this every single time. Of late, Cecil has been receiving more detail. More information about little things here and there.

Cecil nods. "Yes! I could think more in the dream."

"You could think more? Did you finally become lucid?" Grean asks as he leans forward. It has been his goal for his son to become lucid. Cecil never once realizes he is dreaming. He never once realizes he is in some other faraway place, even as things become familiar or expected. The dreams play out all the same -- a script of sorts. If Cecil can realize he is in a dream, he may be able to look around or change the script to learn more about the dreams.

They have had no such luck. The dreams stick fiercely to a script. Over the years, details in dreams may change, like an author editing a story. This analogy is their best analogy.

Cecil shakes his head. "Oh, no. I wasn't lucid." He feels his brother's gaze. "I could think_more, from the perspective of _whoever I'm dreaming about. There was a bit more detail from the lizard who gives me the dream, that's all."

"Whoever?" Vick asks. He turns his head to look at Carr to see if his brother was sharing the same expression. "One dream you're you. Another you're_somebody else_?"

Carr is contorting his face the same as Vick. "Cecil, brother, it's you! You still deny it?"

Vick snaps, "That's not what I meant, Carr!"

Cecil holds his hands out and shrugs. "Look, I don't fucking know. I've never looked at my reflection in the dreams. I don't know if I'm looking through my own eyes or what. I feel I'm a different person. Sometimes I don't feel I'm even a guy. Sometimes I don't feel like I'm even a rabbit. My arms in one dream are different than my arms in another," he brushes his coat. "I have this midnight fur in some dreams, and I have white fur in another, I have this grayish, peppered fur in another. Some dreams I'm covered with scars all over every inch of me, others I feel like me, but I'm a different person. I know_I'm a different person. I _die in fourteen of these dreams. Who dies that many times?"

"Dad thinks you see your future, but out of order," Carr suggests.

Cecil shakes his head. "I've been dreaming for as long as I can remember. The only thing these dreams have in common is me seeing through the eyes of a ruthless killer, and that communication device to some young Archivist in Miesta. I don't think the dreams are about me. I think they're about her." he confesses. He thinks of the recurring features in each dream. Near every dream, he mentally speaks to her. If she responds, her voice fills Cecil's mind with a soothing, educated voice overflowing with compassion. She helps him figure out what to do, where to go all through a small white device. A pearl with geometric lines engraved. Patterns that shift and change. "I'm convinced I'll never understand why I dream, only that someone is putting them in my head every damn night."

Grean emits a soft groan and points to Cecil's dream-half. "Your dreams, my Son, are preparing you for something. War and survival against monsters and the like or moments of witnessing some incredible or heartbreaking event. They keep happening no matter where you are, at home or abroad." Grean says. Grean caresses his chin as he sits back to think, "So, you were able to think? What new thoughts did your dream-you have?"

"The person I was," Cecil begins. "I could feel his thoughts as if they were mine, and not just that normal sensation of me riding along in an empty mind with a body that moved on its own, hearing _her_voice on occasion. I was feeling and hearing _every_thought the guy was thinking, thoughts of other Animalia, and places. He was thinking of what they looked like and what they smelled like. I know their smell now. I--sort of know what they look like."

"Cecil, aren't most of the characters in your dreams all blurry? Their faces and stuff? Aren't their voices muffled and weird?" Vick reminds Cecil.

Cecil nods. "Yeah, normally. I can never make out any person's face or hear their words, but I know what they are saying and who they are. Even some monsters are a bit blurry. It's as if the dream isn't certain who anyone is. Like eh, nothing in the dreams is a fact yet. I think that whoever is making these dreams doesn't know what these Animalia look like either. The dream-weavers don't know how the characters sound, yet somehow they know what the dream-Animalia smell like and how tall they are and how big they are. What color their fur is and how I feel about them."

Carr rapidly clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "That's why most of us think you're dreaming of the future. It's all blurry because the dream is a prediction. Right? Some of these Animalia might not make it there, or the dreams are trying not to influence their past. They don't want to tell you, 'Hey, my name is Fred, and I live on Seventh Avenue in the Nineteenth District,' because then it might not happen. You might decide to; I don't know, kill them instead."

Grean reflects on Carr's open-minded theory. "Some of us in this world are born with memories. Some of us are born with dead languages. We know of streets and cities long-buried and generations eaten thanks to Hyerdigan's Gift. All of Cecil's dreams may be from hundreds of years ago. Older, even. Memories like that are odd." He does not sound to believe his own words. His tone is too neutral, as how a monotone historian would lecture.

"Dad, what memories were you born with?" Vick asks.

Grean's words were spoken with too careless a lapse of thought to divert the subject. "That's not important," He looks to Cecil. "Cecil, what did your dream-you think about?"

"He was thinking of how disgusting and smelly Glurothri was. He was grateful to be out of that place. He also thought that the world is full of monsters to take care of, which is why his group split up." Cecil looks up at the ceiling to recall more. "He doesn't trust his friends that he left behind. He thought of them as allies. That and some arrogant crybaby hyena was heading to uh, Dae--uh."

"Daemascus?" Grean quickly asks.

Cecil elevates his head and remains silent as his eyes provide the answer.

"That is new. And a_crying_ hyena? That is quite unique, as they are not known to cry," Grean ponders.

Cecil leans on the right armrest. "I also felt I knew more about the Animalia in my group. The two skunks, for example. I felt I knew one or both of them as being an engineer. Then there was a big canine. I can't recall if he's a soldier or a criminal. I think he was both at one time, but his sword pommel has the mark of a Guard from the Twenty-Third District."

"Glurothri, huh?" Grean thoughtfully says. He stands up from his chair intentionally too fast, sending it skating across the floor until the headrest bumps a bookshelf. "That's not far from here at all, continent-wise!" Grean walks to the cabinet that stores his maps. The three boys rotate their heads to the left, watching their father. Grean knows just where to find the map he needs. He retrieves a big collection of rolled parchment and pulls the thread. He looks to his sons and nods to his desk, then asking, "Help me."

Cecil and Carr stand and take the items off of Grean's desk. Cecil starts with a tray of drafting tools. Carr takes up the stack of documents and passes them to Vick, who adds them to a pile on the end table beside the door. Carr picks up the aluminum dip pen and capped inkwell and moves it to the bookshelf to his right. Cecil moves one pewter candle holder to the far corner of the desk, and he holds the other.

Grean flattens the roll of parchment maps where each depicts a different northwest region of the Burning Continent. None of these maps show the street level of coastal or inland cities. Geography, elevations, resources, and highways dominate these maps. Cities and territories remain vaguely marked in the broad shapes of their borders. Clusters of squares and triangles clump together with a scratch of tiny distinguished letters beside each city, town, village, and any other natural formation, river, and road. Grean flips through the maps until he finds the one of Glurothri's geographies. He holds it down on both sides. "Carr," he says.

Carr wipes his hands on his uniform. He rolls up the extra maps and carefully tucks them underneath his right arm in a way to not crush or indent them.

"Thank you," Grean says. He pours his eyes over the map he had chosen -- the squares and shapes on this map mark farmland and long stretches of rocky plains and grasslands. Elevations are marked -- dots shade wasteland and savanna. Anything resembling a forest or body of water remains marked with differing patterns.

Cecil places the pewter candle holder from his hand on one corner of the map, his left hand on the other. Carr holds down the corner beside his left hand. Grean holds down the final corner with his right hand and glides his other across the map.

It is a large map, keenly detailed down to the elevation of the geography with correctly surveyed measurements. There is an illegible trig stamped by the author in the corner of the map. Any repeating letters appear as perfect twins, as though the words were stamped or printed by a machine. Grean's furry digits halt at a cluster of squares that represent significant roads and landmarks.

Grean clears his throat. "This here, is Glurothri. On the surface, it is by no means a big city, but it has an underground expansion that this map does not show. Here on Saf's Coast, this city three hundred miles wide is Daemascus." He points to the edge of the continent. The continent's edge is a destroyed jagged mess from the battle between the desert and the ocean. He glides his hand across the map. "Most of this mountain area here and these forests are developed settlements where freshwater and saltwater meet. There may be a country named_Glurothri, but the _city Glurothri is pretty much on its own. It was originally an oasis that had developed way too big, too fast. The city controls entry onto the Causeway to get here. They control the coast. They even control Daemascus despite that city being several times larger. They control all of the major roads in and out of this region. The other settlements that populate this region claim independence, yet they are loyal to the taxes of Glurothri because they have no choice. Only Glurothri has a military on par with modern nations."

"The first nation after the Causeway is a single military city?" Carr asks.

Grean answers yes with a grunt. "Quite a military city. A slave-city full of Exiles who wanted to go east or west but lost everything and ended up trapped, eternally in debt. Generations later, they forget why their children serve in the military." He glides his left hand to that Causeway. The thin bridge of constructed land that connects The Burning Continent with The Accursed Continent. He glances at the stretch of mountainous mainland with a single line representing the only road that travels to the far west, trailing off of the southern edge of the map. Grean's fingers move southward toward the part of the map marked Desolaciae_and _Faeri Salduni."Was this where you think you were?" he asks Cecil.

Cecil studies the map. "Um," His eyes move across the map. "We were four and a half days into the desert without respite. We were going southeast to a landmark of some giant rock. It was the only way to cross, I think. The person I was dreaming about didn't think much on why they had to cross the desert, except that it was the only way," he says, looking for the desert on the map and only finding the inking of rocks and plateaus and grasslands. "Where does the desert start?"

Grean stares at the map in realization. "Oh. Well." He signals Carr with a bounce of his chin.

Carr passes his father the bundle of maps while Cecil lifts the candle from the corner.

Grean lays the scrolls down and tabs through the corners until he finds it. He slides his hand across the map, four above the one of Glurothri and three away from the top.

Carr once again takes the extra maps.

This next map has extensive geography marked and hardly an inking for a settlement or city. There's a lone road bordering the northwest corner.

Grean looks at his boys. "This is not the harshest terrain of the Saehaedri Haraeniam."

"What's that swirling in the middle, some sort of lake?" Vick asks. Despite the entire map being bland, there is a drawn swirl marking the edge of a mountainous landscape -- an eye of sorts.

"There are two old tales involving that whirling rock formation. The first idea is this is where the Dragon King's egg landed. The second, this is where the Celestial Life-Breather touched the world to push it into orbit. Whatever it is, geologists across the world say it is six times older than anything else on Vaelia's surface." Grean taps his finger to something that distinctly looks like the pattern of a storm or an eye. "The desert beyond this map is massive. There are no maps of the moving sand, so this is the only map between the jungles and the Glurothrian grasslands. This location is Maurvaeliske. It has been somewhat impassable since the beginning of time, even by air. The skies are far too turbulent even for a Miestan airship. Your dream path would have to come down one of these long plateaus of rock." Grean says. He glides his fingers along curving lines of rock that appear to have been formed by ancient rivers. "There's no wind here because of the mountains, turning the place into a furnace."

Cecil stares into the abyss as he recalls his dream. "My dream never took place there, but the memories of the first day into the desert were a _miserable_one. Whoever I was, felt miserable about it. It was brutal for the group, but once they were away from the mountains, the wind picked up."

"Cecil?" Grean asks, wondering if his son knows. "Do you know any landmarks aside from the sand?"

Cecil shakes his head. "Only the sand. It's seriously all I could see." After answering his father, he continues on his own set of details, "No one had slept for the four days. We didn't want to risk getting buried if we took a nap."

"The sand moves that fast?" Vick asks his father.

Cecil looks at Vick, silently asking, Did you not read my journal? You doubt me the harshest of anyone, but then you act surprised like this? Stop pretending in front of Dad!

"Oh yes," Grean replies. "The dunes move against you. You'll find yourself walking uphill forever. You think you are walking in a straight line up the dune, and you end up turning this way and that. It's impossible to pass without a guide. I wonder why you didn't take a sand ship or sailboard. Whoever you dream of, if it's not you, they're an idiot--" his voice trails off.

"Dad, we have to get going. They're waiting for us." Vick reminds his father of the time. He can't wait to get out of this lecture.

Carr hums in agreement.

Grean returns the maps to his corrugated shelf. "After dinner, is when we dive. Meet up in the new chamber. Vick, bring us those new reflector lamps you made."

Cecil and Carr put their father's things back on his desk.

"Parabolic." Vick corrects him.

"What?" Grean asks.

Vick smiles kindly at his father. "It's a parabolic lantern. And don't tell me to smelt them down for plates."

Cecil's glowing eyes stare into the candlelight, "Who's going down?"

Grean stretches his back and arms out as he answers, "You three are the only ones I want going into the chasm. Cecil, you're going. Carr, Vick, flip a coin. And Carr, ease off the drinks tonight."

"Who else do we need?" Carr asks, trying not to feel insulted because now, out of spite for those words, he is going to drink more.

Grean contemplates this for a moment. "Brilando for certain. You boys will figure out who else we need. I'll see you all after your classes." He nods them off as he sits back into his chair. He waits patiently as his sons all give their respectful bows and dismiss themselves. Carr first, then Vick and lastly Cecil.

Cecil follows his brothers out. He stops in his tracks and turns back. He waits a moment for Carr and Vick to be further away before asking, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Cecil's eyes search for the words. "At the very end of my dream, I heard a voice."

"Your siblings? Ferdinand, Alfonso, and Jessin, right?" Grean asks, knowingly.

"No," Cecil says. He tenses his brow. "There was someone--a lizard. I know I told you this before. Years ago, remember?" His father nods to him. "I felt his dainty little fingers right here." Cecil puts his fingers to his temples. "I always knew Shale was there, but this is the very first time I could feel the lizard and the shape of his body. Legs, tail, and scales. I could feel what he was, and I don't think he intended that for me. He felt very distracted."

Grean's posture straightens right up. "What did this Shale person say?"

Cecil winces to remember the exact words. "I can't recall his exact words, but he was telling someone else he was going to let me wake up. Someone named_Eth'Dolamere_." It is an odd name he will never forget. "They said, 'Three dreams were enough for me,' Dad, who is Eth'Dolamere?"

Grean's cold blue eyes give Cecil nothing. "I've never heard the name," he lies. "but that one is undoubtedly a Miestan name. I want to guess someone from Te'vance or Gerealle."

Cecil lowers his eyes to think. He has known Eth'Dolamere's name and voice for over a decade now, and he refuses to believe his father, with all of the old buck's knowledge of the far reaches of Vaelia, somehow does not know who these two are. The conversations about Cecil's dreams are far too casual to suspect otherwise. Nothing will ever convince him that his father does not know who these dream-pushers are.

Grean adjusts himself in his creaking chair. "I'll see you at dinner."

"I don't know what you are anymore," Vick says to Cecil after they pass through the hydroponics farm. Vick blocks the central stairwell. His arms cross as he glares at Cecil.

Buraldin ties herbs into portions. He keeps his head down, not daring to intervene. He remains invisible to Vick's rage.

Carr was already leaning against the central support pillar of the spiral farm.

Cecil returns the glare. "Vick, don't start this shit again."

"Dreams?" Vick asks with derision. "This shit freaks me the fuck out! What fucking drugs are you taking? Is Sena rolling again?"

Cecil lifts his shoulders and throws his palms up. "I don't know what to tell you. My whole life, this is how it's been."

Vick shakes his head. "No." He continues to shake his head. "No, don't give me that shit. Vivid dreams, I get that. Coincidental dreams, sure, I have them all the time. Memories we inherit from an ancestor, possibly. But to dream of places that no ancestor we know has ever visited? Like the Citadel of Miesta? The World Tree? The damn _Sky-Talon's_cloud metropolis?" He throws his hands up to halt his brother. "Stop fucking with us. You read this shit in a book somewhere. None of these places are fucking real."

Carr looks at Vick with confusion. "Sky-Talon? Cecil's dreamed about them?"

Vick snarls and hisses with distraught at Carr. "You should read your brother's journals. He's got Dad all confused, and now Dad is asking us to make armor. He's telling us to drop everything else. Why? There's no way we're making all of these armor bits and plates just for us."

Cecil grips Carr by his shoulders to spin his brother and himself around to switch places so Cecil can slip by Vick.

Vick gets right up in Cecil's face to stop him.

Cecil growls his words, "I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not. I know what I see in these dreams and I--"

"Don't give me more shit." Vick snaps, standing close enough to his brother that they can feel each other's frigid breath. "You're lazy. All you want to do is sleep in."

"I'm not doing this with you," Cecil says, dismissing this and stepping left, then right, and then left again, to walk around Vick.

Vick keeps stepping in front of Cecil. "I'm not going to let you mess with Dad like that. He does enough of that kind of shit to us already."

"Vick, what are you talking about?" Carr asks.

Vick sucks his teeth. "This_spoiled brat_ of ours is fucking with dad so he can sleep all day." Vick's dark green eyes remain locked on Cecil's illuminated blue eyes. "Linked to some artifact? You've got our dad pulling out maps from around the world to find out where you were. The next time you say some shit about a dream and have him pouring over maps and hopes and dreams of magic and shit, I'm going to--I'll--"

"What?" Cecil asks. His eyes are fierce. The burning sapphire light in his irises illuminates Vick's darker face. The faintest hint of white light spills from the limbus of his irises. "You need to back, the fuck, off." Cecil hisses. His blue eyes turn brilliantly celeste. Frigid embers form in front of his face from moisture crystallizing. "We settled this. I get that you're not in my head to see the things that I see. I come across as crazy--"

"Crazy doesn't even _begin_to describe what you are." Vick barks, feeling small in front of his much taller brother. "Do you know how fucked up this world is? You add right to the bullshit." His dark eyes emit a sliver of celeste light. "Don't you think for one moment, Cecil, that our family deals with enough?" He throws his hand out to point in the direction of the surface hatch. His voice is cracking because his words hurt to say them, "When those wolves knock, we'll kiss our best sibling goodbye. And for what? Because she's weak and going to die anyway?" Glistening tears run down Vick's cheeks.

"Vick, Cecil, come on! Stop being spoiled." Carr begs.

Vick looks over Cecil's shoulders to see Carr's eyes glowing just as bright with celeste light. "You--believe him? You believe his dreams are the future or whatever? Why? Don't you have enough to worry about with your obsession over whales and sharks?"

Carr shrugs as he shakes his head. "I don't know what to believe. All I do is cook food and keep everyone going. I'm not about to go read Cecil's dream journals. I've got too much work on my plate. I don't believe in magical whatever. Monsters, sure, but magically forced dreams? I've done some of Reifa's shrooms; they don't come close to these kinds of,"

"Of what?" Vick asks.

"These kinds of delusions."

Buraldin picks up his pale of herbs and hurries out of the hydroponics farm. He has heard enough.

Cecil looks back at Carr. "You too?" Cecil is hurt. Does no one believe me except Dad and Kurinne?

Carr lowers his chin to give Cecil an uncertain look. "Sorry, Cees. I want to believe it, but I need to see it first. I can't help but think maybe your vivid imagination is a coping mechanism for the world we live in. You know how they do drugs like they do in The Coffin."

"I'm not on fucking drugs, Carr!"

"You know what I mean!"

Cecil balls fists and shoves past Vick. He stomps his way down the stairwell to the seventh floor where his drafting room is. He almost scares the life out of Loxacael, Sahrua, and Essa, who are each working on their projects for Essa's next class.

Vick was about to go after Cecil before Carr holds his shoulder. Vick looks back to see Carr shaking his head.

"He's fucking with us," Vick states.

Carr looks at their father's door. "Dad says they're real. He's the one who convinced Cecil they were. The places our brother has seen aren't written in any books we have in the den," He turns to Vick. "Cecil has been having those dreams since before he was taught to read. Unless Dad himself is tricking Cecil, I'm not so sure that our brother is_lying_ about it, but you know how I am. I need visual proof for myself, even if it's impossible."

"You too?" Vick asks with strained eyes. "There will never be visual evidence. It's all in his stupid head, eldest heir, my ass. Please, it's not possible. This shit is some fairy-tale ass bull-shit!" He yanks his shoulder free.

"Dad says magic is real. So are monsters." Carr states. "I mean, look at the reliquary they have in Rotun of all of the monsters slain in the deeps beneath us. Dad knows his shit and has theories supported by a lot of folks who are in no way religious."

Vick snorts. "Dad says a lot of weird shit because he's old as fuck. Do you know why we're not supposed to live old? It's not because we get tired or unable to make food for the wolves. It's because we get fucked up in the head. Age brings insanity, likely because of all the lead in our water. Dad is losing his mind. Just how old is he, anyway? The guy should've been a Wolf-Meal decades ago."

Carr frowns as his brother gives him a spiteful, pitiful stare. He watches his brother storm off. Once Vick is gone, the ice that has grown in veins across the concrete pillar dissolves back into vapor.

"I have fucking armor plates to make. Day and fucking night. Armor plates. Armor plates. Armor plates." Vick gripes. "I don't have time to teach the fucking periodic table. I'm canceling my class today. Those brats can do like me and learn metallurgy from textbooks on their own!"

Carr turns back to look at his father's study. He sighs and shakes his head. When Vick is gone, Carr whispers, "Dad, what aren't you telling us?"