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The Truth sounded across Lehsunia, the Church's grand bell tolling the mid-day meal. In a classroom of the Mehnzilian Church's Academic Annex, the sonorous melody seemed to sound from the Wyranese Tower of the Moon, as the young pronghorn, Rolf Severna, explored the distant country in his head. Ebony horns halfway grown, he was almost a buck in appearance, but the pressures of his strict, authoritative father to enter the clergy had aged his mind considerably. Unbeknownst to the buckling, however, Friar Arlowe, expounding on the Virtues of the Dragon, had noticed that Rolf was mind wandering. It was a recent habit in an otherwise diligent pupil, and the good Friar was thus concerned. Friar Arlowe thus made his decision. The raccoon dog firmly shut the Book of Virtue in his paw, startling the students, chiefly among them, the pronghorn. Rolf secretly scanned his surroundings-the Brothers of the Church were not known for their tolerance. Here Friar Arlowe chuckled, along with some embarrassed students-'There, by the Grace of God, go we for lunch. Amen.' Good, Friar Arlowe hadn't noticed. Rolf relaxed, sighing quietly at his transgression. He was lucky Friar Arlowe was kind; the other clergy might have had to talk to Father, and Father was definitely not a man to disappoint, especially how much he had sacrificed for him and the family. As strict Church doctrine had taught them, the boys filed quietly and quickly out of the room in an orderly manner, but it was plain to see the joy of Springtide on their faces, save for a certain pronghorn.

As Rolf reached the doorway, he felt a hefty but gentle paw upon his shoulder, whereupon his blood chilled. _ _"Rolf.." the buck whipped away from the touch, turning to face the raccoon-dog fearfully. The Friar withdrew his paws to his chest in pacification. "Is everything alright?" Rolf came to, hurriedly regaining his composure. "A..ah..forgive me, Friar.' Friar Arlowe frowned, shaking his head. "You have done no wrong...come, shall we not have a walk in the garden? It seems your mind has been clouded as of late." Rolf nodded, following the Friar out of the room.

It was perhaps the longest walk down those familiar hallways that Rolf could remember. Friar Arlowe was unusually silent and thoughts of unease boiled over in Rolf's head. Was Friar Arlowe actually angry? Would he tell Father? Oh no, what if this 'walk in the garden' was actually Rectification? He couldn't afford to be punished...what if Father knew?! Rolf' He was heir to the Severna family, generations devout to the Church as its wood-workers. Father had strictly trained him to be ever worthy of the clergy; if he was to be punished, how he would greatly shame his family and Father! 'Rolf.'Here Rolf tried to calm himself- perhaps..perhaps this was a test by God! After all, Rectification meant that he had transgressed; this could be a chance for improvement and redemption! 'Rolf.' 'Yes, Friar!' Friar Arlowe started back a pace, then chuckled at his protégé's sudden raptness. 'We're here.'

*****

A most calming amble about the iris, rose and lilied garden later, they broke for lunch , the young pronghorn looking considerably younger and calmer and the raccoon dog more aged. Friar Arlowe sighed- it was another case of 'appease father' with Rolf. Truly, the young buck had the makings of an excellent wood-worker. Not only did he refurbish old, wobbly wooden furniture, he could, even from scrap wood, furnish sturdy tables and lecterns, which even members the Inner Sanctum vied for. What was more amazing were his wooden carvings; the Saints he had crafted in miniature through rosewood had been even added to the mantelpiece of the Refractory. Nonetheless, to Friar Arlowe's keen eyes, it seemed that Rolf's passion was elsewhere, and rightfully so- his father seemed to have burdened his shoulders with a Calling that wasn't his. The young pronghorn was quite well-versed in the Texts, and also possessing a gentle demeanour worthy of God's teachings. In all the debates and examinations of the Church, Rolf had been noted to be peerless; even the Inquisitors who attended them had naught but praise for the youth as he felled his opponent's arguments. Here he sighed at the traditions upheld by blind honour. 'Friar?' Roused from his thoughts, Arlowe smiled, turning to Rolf. 'Yes, Rolf?' The Friar was an understanding man; Rolf, despite his tender years, was more aged in mind than his peers. Thus, he only ever addressed Rolf by name, or the epithet, 'my son'. 'Friar, is it true that in the Southern seas, they do worship God, but believe that Water is his divine essence?' Indeed, Rolf's concealed passion was proselytizing in distant lands. He'd only revealed it to his mother, younger brother and most recently, Friar Arlowe himself, upon which Arlowe advised him to avoid further disclosure with others. 'Mmmh, mayhap, Rolf, but I do not know.' Here the buck's ears folded...'Oh.' 'But... I do know that not too far off our coasts, from the length of late Spring to Summer, some of our fisherman build a temporary village upon the sea, with boats, ropes and timber..and among our sea-faring brothers, there are some from the South...perhaps if we do go by the docks for a lesson...' Rolf raised his head from dejection, stars in his bright, blue eyes. Arlowe smiled broadly- it was good to see Rolf in such high spirits, and a rare, uplifting sight to see his student outside of his scholarly shell. Not that Arlowe played favourites with his students; au contraire; he treated each pupil fairly with respect and care. However, the raccoon dog saw quite a bit of himself in Rolf; he too, had been compelled, not of his own volition, to take on a mantle of tradition, having been forcibly removed from what he wished to do; to be with his wife and child.It was too late for one aged as him, but for the pronghorn of 15 years, there might still.no, there was hope. "Rolf..." here he rested a paw between the buck's two obsidian buds. "F..Friar?" "Tell me, my son, do you love travelling ?"

*****

The evening choir made their rounds; 'Blessed be the Evening' rang through the halls of the Church, ending the academic day. For Rolf, it couldn't end sooner. The friar's counsel was at once a priceless yet terrifying boon. By the auspices of Reverend Gustave, the Friar's seafaring otter colleague, Rolf would become his pupil, an apprentice minister aboard the 'Fairgale', a merchant clipper of renown. Rolf was thus besides himself with joy and terror, on one hoof, here he was free to pursue his passion for travel, like the intrepid scholars of today and yore. On the other, while he was still a disciple of the Church, his path strew from the doors to the Inner Sanctum, a position Father had painstakingly moulded him for with frigid, violent, strictness. As he made his way toward the foreboding doors to the city, the raccoon at his side, the offer burdened his heart more and more with each step. Then...the sky..and a pair of blue eyes like his own. 'Brother!' Little 'Toby' Tobias was sitting on his chest. Calmly, he sat up, butting heads affectionately with him. 'Budder!' Toby huffed, and Rolf laughed, heartily, woes immediately gone. Toby was always sensitive about his recent bodily development, the little black antler-buds now visible on his head, and in true brotherly fashion, Rolf teased him to no end about it. 'Come now, Rolf, don't tease your younger brother; your horns were like that once.' Both pronghorns immediately turned to the warm, delicate yet mischievous visage of their mother. 'Owa!' 'Why, I remember a certain 'budder' who insisted on wearing caps all the time....' Toby went wide-eyed with glee, erupting into laughter, as Friar Arlowe covered his trembling muzzle with a paw, looking away. Rolf blushed profusely, groaning. 'Owaaaa!! You promised you wouldn't tell anyone that!!' Mrs. Severna leaned down and lightly tapped Rolf's snout-'Then stop teasing your brother about his antlers.' She smiled, and rising, dropped a curtsey to Arlowe, who bowed graciously in turn. 'Blessed be this evening, Mrs. Severna.' 'Well met, good Friar.' 'Rolf's heart sank...he knew where this conversation was headed. 'I do believe Rolf here has some good news for you....'

Father, having had finished work on the flourishes of the pillars in the new annex, had happened upon them as Friar Arlowe and Owa discussed Rolf's apprenticeship. Father was most displeased; why, he was incensed. He curtly mumbled greetings to the Friar, and hurried them home. Father was not an unkindly man, however, and with his usual, blunt and gruff ways, grunted to Owa and Tobias to partake first of their humble dinner, sweetgrass from the Yew grocer's, almond bread from the Wyranese bakery and Lehsunian cheese. He then stormed down to the cellars, his cramped workroom, Rolf nervously following suit.

*****

Father was definitely angry. The quiet, tall, but wiry frame of his father betrayed his might and fury as he drove nails into a new shelf, walls shaking with each hammer stroke. He never did hit his family, but the sheer force with which he poured fury into his work at times like these was definitely fearsome enough. Rolf hung his head in shame, and fear...but there was a new emotion also lurking within his heart.'

'Honour your parents, (BANG) Book of Virtues, 1:1' (BANG_ 'Honour your parents'...(BANG)tell me. Rolf Severna(BANG)...are you honouring your Father by doing this?!

...(BANG)..

...I..(BANG)

Here Father paused slamming the hammer down onto the workbench, turning to face his son.

Well?!

..I..Yes. I do.

..BANG-...WH-

'None after and none above God. His Word is Truth, his Acts are Righteous. Fear Him and Adore Him, but most of all Honour Him, for He is Your Father. Book of Virtue, Preface, 1.1.'

There was a scream from above. A sudden groaning and consequent crash rent the tense air, doors falling dangerously close by the two bucks to the basement floor, and all heads turned to face the source. A familiar, hulking sea otter, dressed in the short robes and trousers of the Mehnzilian missionary, hopped down, applauding. Behind him were flung cellar's heavy oak doors, swinging miserably from their hinges.

'Well said, m' lad, well said. I knew Arlowe was right about ye!'

'R..reverend Gustave?'

The older Severna, now beside himself with rage, simply stood, trembling angrily as words failed him.

'Gustave! Hold your tongue!' Here the lutrine perked up, whipping above toward the ruined doorway, and then bowed low. 'Milady.'

A tall, blonde woman alighted and sauntered in, with so graceful and proud an air, it was as if the tiny Severna house was her mansion, and the family but lowly guests. She eased past the massive otter, nodding in passing acknowledgement to a slack-jawed Sir Severna, and finally halted in front of Rolf. She lifted his chin with a finger, peering into his blue eyes with her green ones. 'This is the boy then....such lovely eyes.' said she aloud, yet to herself. Then, she smiled, nodding, and turned back toward his father, bowing slightly.

'Mister Severna. Forgive our rude and hasty presence into your charming home, but time is of th-'

The elder Severna finally regained his voice. 'Away with y-' there was a sudden movement, and now his muzzle was bound in a silk scarf. She coughed politely, and resumed her speech.

'-charmed. Now, I own the 'Fairgale', a mercantile ship that supplies the Church with incense, silk and other furnishings. As it is, I, have a dire need of both an excellent wood-worker and aid in teaching the Virtues to the world. Thus, have I permitted our good Reverend Gustave here, to take on a disciple with which to help fix the sins of the Masses, and to help fix our ship.' Here she smiled, if not a little grimly, having heard what had transpired twixt the two pronghorns. 'My, my. Seems like this was a good time as any, no?' She turned toward Rolf. 'Boy, I have heard, through Gustave and his colleague, that you seem to be very keen to join our crew! Be warned, boy, the waters we ply are dangerous enough, but the souls you could save and the sights you shall see are beyond compare. Now, I am no woman of a press-gang; we shall leave and repatriate you for your doors peacefully should you refuse, but shall you join us, boy? We leave soon; the tides wait for no-one, as does business.'

Here was his chance! But..Father...He looked back at Father...and Father looked away, eyes shut, grimacing.

'Boy! Time's a wasting! What say you, now?!'

'Not boy. Rolf. I will join your crew.'

She smiled. 'Welcome aboard, Rolf. Let us depart.'

'I'll have to grab some thi..'

'You will be fed and clothed. We leave now, or we leave without you.'

Gustave laughed heartily, crossing over and patting the fawn on his back. 'Knew ye had the pluck, m'lad!'

'Gustave! Rolf!'

'Aye!'

They climbed out and up, Rolf muttering a quick apology to Father, who still looked away. Perhaps it was a trick of the oil lamp...but his father's cheeks seemed to glisten with moisture. In the kitchen, they were met with Mrs. Severna, frying pan at the ready as Toby hid behind her skirts. Upon sight of Rolf she dropped her makeshift weapon, hugging him fiercely, as did Toby. 'Owa..." "I heard what happened, Rolf.' She pulled him away, looking once more at her son, before embracing him again, desperately. 'Oh, Rolf...my sweet, sweet fawn.. you musn't go!..but..butI should have no say in that..just..just promise me you'll be safe.' 'Owa...' 'Brother..don't leave us! ' 'Toby..I must. ' 'I..love you both...' 'I love you, too, my fawn. Please, be safe.'

A boot, and a rather expensive one at that, stomped angrily.

'C'mon lad, Milady's more fearsome than a tempest in the Southern Seas!'

Rolf turned, getting slowly to his hooves. Without looking back, he dashed headlong and out the doors, tears stinging his face in the cool Spring breeze.