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The Expedition of Callus, Encampment somewhere in the Forest…

The night was quiet as usual with the soldiers and gunsmiths prepped ready to depart from the safety of their comfortable fire. With determined eyes and grim look upon their face, the selected few were chosen by a Partishan on a mission that they might not return.

Callus couldn't be more proud of his men though that didn't mean he had to hide the fact that most of the soldiers were farmers and convicts to begin with. He cared little to the lives of the incompetent and the dissolute, but the numbers of his forces were low and he need every men available before the expedition was over.

The Partishan turned his attention by the tent, drinking his warm, Ovelian tea, mixed with black and gold herbs like he used to back on his homeland. The misty scent of the tea gave a fruity aroma that tasted spectacular of spicy and bitter mix.

Beside relaxing in his tent, Partishan Callus was not overall exhilarated of the result that was given to him. The interrogation of the captured wolf proved disastrous with none able to make a conversation due to language difference between the two race. In private and away from prying eyes, the Partishans performed a blood ritual that was able to dig out the memories of a beast.

Partishan Valeran was the one who volunteered for the ritual even though there was a chance and risk of death. They had never done this with a non-human before and complication would result instantaneous degeneration of health. Yet, in the end, the Partishan became triumphant in his success and gathered much intelligence on the whereabouts of the beast's outpost as well as the remaining imperial prisoners at the hand of the wolves.

Callus was quite disappointed that the wolf expired after the event. The beast could provide more information relating to their kingdom. Nevertheless, he was in content that the ritual was successful and that Partishan Valeran was outside right now gathering available soldiers to storm the Wolf Outpost.

Valeran was convinced that the wolf outpost harbored but weak-willed units and that his selected forces would destroy them with quick succession. Callus was quite unconvinced on the matter, believing the young upstart would find himself in a painful demise along with the little few of their numbers.

A wise commander would have decline on such a foolish plan, but Callus thought otherwise that maybe it was high time to see if Valeran was worthy as a valuable asset. It was the reason Callus approved the mission in the first place.

Valeran was a new recruit in the rank, out-rightly bold and fiercely loyal to the Empire. The young Partishan made his impression among the higher ranks when he slew the famed Burgundian Knight of the Scarlet Order, Maxwell Irons, in single combat.

While the barons were gullible enough to believe that new recruit could kill a skilled warrior, Callus and most of the Partishan weren't convinced, believing the event to be a fluke.

Another Partishan soon entered Callus' tent. The person was taller than the regular Partishan with a heavy build. Several scorch marks all over his armor indicated his experience with Fire Heartens.

“Grand Leader." The tall person spoke in a hoarse and brittle voice. His eyes glared coldly that sapped all such innocence. “Valeran has finished readying his troops and is about to move out. Are you not going to give a few words of advice to your men?"

Callus made a light chuckle, suspected of him to be a nonstop workaholic.

“I don't think that would be necessary, Reeve." He gradually stood up and walk towards outside of his tent to inspect the selection that Valeran pick. “Hmm, not much to go for."

“Valeran said that he only choose the best of musketeers. Ten of them in fact. He seems to favor the three fellows that captured the wolf from earlier."

“Hmm, yes. That is suspected." Callus turned his gaze towards Reeve. “Are you tagging along in this mission?"

“That I am, my Grand." The tall man called Reeve nodded his head. “Beside myself. Oerin and Decimus would be joining with the group."

“No doubt he wanted the three of you cause you are the best at what you do." Callus pointed it out.

“That is half a truth, my Grand. While I accepted the offer cause I'm curious to see if he is truly what the nobles say he is. The two Partishans willingly volunteered for the action."

Callus snickered. “With those two, I will presume they would wreck havoc against those beasts more than the entire group of Valeran. Speaking of which, it seemed they are on the move."

Reeve gestured a wave goodbye to Callus and left without a word.

With Valeran's group long gone from sight, Callus returned back to his tent and resumed drinking his cold tea.

---

Blueberry Town, The Lucky Foot Tavern

The tavern was in full swing with countless patrons and guests drink and dine at one another, laughing out loud with great abandon. It was a life of bustle chaos, but a most joyous event as many come to waste away of their coin in exchange of booze and hearty meal. Then again, what better way to improve the festivity with an elegant song from none other than the gifted bard.

A bright orange fox dressed neatly in stylish surcoat of blue and a refine feather hat, strummed his magnificent lute and sang a magnificent song that echo with rhythm and words. Both men and women beasts were smitten by his talent that many come singing along with him, filling their hearts with great amount of pride.

The event was outright marvelous that Amion almost tempted to join along the mass. A single human in a sea of fur and fleas.

It had been several days since Amion visited the potion seller from the top of the hill. Amion, deserter and coward to the Order, rest sat in comfort in his chair, sitting at the far corner of the tavern, watching alone at the people for any sign of trouble. He found a line of work in the tavern, acting as mere bodyguard and protector of the establishment. There were several bodyguards beside him that guard the place, and only two individual proved tolerable to his presence.

The first was a sly and deceitful weasel by the name of Tristam. A peculiar yet easygoing individual with the skill of knives. Amion met him at the start of his work.

“So…new guy right?" Tristam slurred in his tongue, speaking words that was almost difficult to understand. He wasn't the well fluent beast of the tongue, but action speaks louder than words, juggling two knives with just one paw. He caught both of them unharmed. “Welcome to the group. You've got a name?"

Amion became fast friends with the weasel in no less than a day.

The second one was a quiet, but ferocious bear by the name of Yara, adorn in artistic war paint of swivel and line. While none of the bodyguards dare approach her due to reason as bears were well regard for their aggressive nature, she was, overall a charismatic beast that Amion had ever known; beside himself and his former Crimsoniers of the Order.

It was the third day of the Lucky Foot when Amion was given the order to team up with Yara to escort a renown patron, dressed finely in gold and jewelry, back safely to its abode. As they were close to their destination, a group of thugs appeared from the front and the back, demanding any worth of valuables.

Amion could have beaten them, but as he was about to unsheathe his weapon, Yara intervened, stopping him from his progress. The bear, instead of use of excessive violence, offered the thugs a generous opportunity that pique their interest. Spoken like a silver snake, she somehow convinced the brutish and obtuse lot a location that was worth a considerable amount of fortune. She handed a map that would direct them to the source, and, miraculously, the thugs left instantaneous to seek such wealth.

It was later the thugs found a hidden cache of gold, but later caught at the paws of a crime syndicate. They were never heard from again.

The festivities from the tavern later died down at close to midnight with several customers retreated back to their abode or heavily drunk and intoxicated from the party to do anything at all. Tristam and Tara and the rest of the bodyguards had a day-off tonight, leaving Amion alone to tend to the security business.

Amion didn't mind at all of the solitude since he was used to the loneliness. The night wasn't chaotic, but rather an average day of event with little accident between the customer. Oddly, he found a sense of calmness among the wild, diverse species of the animal kingdom, drinking and caring not of the world, imitating human qualities and features that he could faintly remember.

The orange fox, the magnificent bard that roused the customers with wild invigoration, was also alone and sat idly by at the fireplace, tending to his lute, stretching the strings to a slight improve of the music. His yellowish eyes, soft and tired, stared back towards to Amion and tipped a hat in confirmation of present.

Amion nodded his head in return at the bard, and turned his gaze elsewhere towards the bar counter where the other barmaids gathered around to count the amount of tip or wealth that they have gotten at the rambunctious night. His mind then wandered of the hometown that he used to live, grimly suspecting the place to be burned down to the ground at the hands of the Partishans or some other unjustifiable force of the Royal Army.

Amion knew for fact that there was no way possible to return back to his world or the life that he was used to be. The Empire from the Other Side were veracious and rigorous towards Heartens such as the Scarlet Order. From every conflict and every encounter the armies burned and killed and destroyed anyone that were deemed supportive towards Hearten alike. While there was a faint hope of a future, away from indiscriminate eyes or leery hostilities of the Empire, he remained where he was, watching the beastfolk dance and play and laugh with merciful glee, all the while hiding beneath a wolf helmet.

“I see that you've been staring for a long time. Found something of interest?"

Amion snapped from his thought to realize of his elongated idleness. He turned his eyes toward to one of the barmaids that was in front of him.

Aveline Brightwing wore a bright and voluptuous outfit, intended to invite other new customers unto the tavern's fold. Like the bard, she bare the traits of a fox yet entirely unique and different on her own. She was a maned wolf, neither a fox or a wolf. She was taller than most of the canine species with her long black legs, gold-orange fur and onyx mane.

It wasn't a surprise for Amion to meet another of her kind since they were quite numerous in his world; minus the human features and intelligence. He never understood the beastfolk, gazing at her with cautious and fearful look. Yet, unlike him for certain, he kinda knew the reason: she was different, unique, and that made him feel welcome. He wasn't alone.

“My apologies, my dear." Amion warmly replied. “I was in a bit of a daze. Never thought I see this day, working, enjoying a good company of gorgeous and gentle folk. I am most quite fortunate in my journey."

“Hmm, flatterer, are you?" Aveline gently laughed. “You aren't like the other guards. You treated us barmaids with respect. You even showed me with kindness like I'm sort of equal."

“No fair beauty such as you be treated cruelly because of a different appearance." Amion retorted with a grim chuckle. “What they did to you or what they say…deserve more than just a beatdown. Remember your importance. Your existence proves as much."

“I thank you for the compliment, milord." Aveline gently bowed with a slight blush of red upon her cheek. She quickly departed, leaving him to attend the other barmaids.

Admittedly, Amion found her company to be enjoyable. Aveline had a courageous flair of aura although arrogant by right. Out of the barmaids, she was the bold one among the rest. None of them approach except for her.

After an hour of midnight with most of the customers left the place, Amion was about head out for the night when, at a ironic twist of joke, he heard the door open. From the entrance was a hooded figure, a rodent by the looks of its slender tail, walking towards to the bar in gradual pace.

The bartender who greeted the stranger, nodded his head and gestured his paw to one of the empty seats. The hooded rodent sat close at the fireplace.

Amion sighed, remaining back to his seat, gazing at the customer in fair distant. When the rodent finally unsheathe its hood, nostalgic familiarity hit Amion in the head. It was then that he'd realize that it was the very same rodent that was tied up on a tree in the paws of brigands from long ago.

The rodent turned his gaze towards to Amion with a smirky grin. The fireplace reflected his large shadow.

Amion remained ever silent from the corner before he began to make his motion. He then stood from his seat and stride towards to the rodent. When Aveline arrived with a mug of blueberry whiskey, Amion spoke to the rodent like an old friend.

“And here I thought the rat wouldn't make it. I never suspect that I would come to meet someone important."

The rodent made a quick glance. “If you knew that I was one, would you still rescue me ?"

Amion sat down on the wooden chair. “No, no I wouldn't. I suspect that you would survive without me."

The rodent take a sip from the mug and placed it on the table. He then extend his paw to Amion.

“The name's Mecurio."

“Amion." He said and firmly shook his paw.