"I say they should solve this squabble in the only fashion fit for honorable men. Let them fight!"

Ranulf kept a pleasantly tolerant expression plastered onto his face as he struggled not to lose his calm. A capitulation from the captain would jeopardize all he had been working for this past half an hour. He was dimly aware of the sounds of mock battle between other soldiers who littered the training field on the outskirts of the Gallian capitol city. Nearby, a cat and tiger laguz squared off in shifted forms amidst a flurry of growling and spitting. Such training pairs were not uncommon: the natural speed of the one and strength of the other served to test otherwise underdeveloped skill sets in both. There was a certain practical beauty in the diversity of the feline beast laguz that the other nations of Tellius lacked.

Before him were twelve of these cat and tiger laguz, soldiers from his division and recently chosen members of his task force. They stood in a loose line as he carefully explained their mission and what was expected of their particular unit. All they were to do was escort Skrimir on his short trip to Kerm, a small village on the border of Gallia and Crimea. Although the situation there was international, the captain doubted the trip would take any more than a few days. He also anticipated little necessity of military action in the course of their dealings there—but a small contingency was appropriate whenever the king traveled.

It was simple, really.

But darn it if he could not have just a single pep talk without one laguz threatening to destroy the carefully maintained professionalism of the group by letting his blood run hot and his mouth run with it.

Today it was Talos. Talos was a hulking tiger laguz with wild black hair and a personality to match. He stood planted in the middle of the row, legs spread, arms crossed, and a fierce expression in his eyes. Around him, some of the other soldiers were nodding their heads and grinning. A few long cat tails flicked with anticipation at the mere mention of a contest.

Ranulf considered the tiger laguz critically. "Talos, have you been listening to a single word that I've been saying?"

Oblivious to Ranulf's annoyance, Talos grinned largely, like a man with full confidence in himself. "Of course, Captain!"

"Excellent." Ranulf knew the man meant no harm, but his instinctual approach to solving such a delicate issue had to be dealt with before the others became infected by the warrior's fervor. "Now recap. Without commentary, if you would."

"Sure thing!" Talos, buoyed by the positive attention of his peers, pressed on somewhat cockily. "These two guys disagree over who gets some land. A trial by combat is the obvious solution."

Ranulf ignored the muttered agreements, eyes on the black-haired tiger laguz. "No commentary. And you seem to be forgetting a key detail. Try again."

Talos narrowed his eyes in thought. "They're both… farmers?"

"And…?"

"And they… um…" Talos glanced at a shorter cat laguz to his right with a questioning expression.

"And this is an international dispute, sir," another voice offered.

Ranulf shifted his attention briefly to Kyza who stood at stiff attention a few soldiers to the left of Talos. "Right," he confirmed. Though secretly he was glad of his friend's support, the captain kept his expression carefully neutral. An open display of approval might come across as favoritism.

Talos took a threatening step in Kyza's direction. "So what?"

"Talos," Ranulf snapped. The tiger laguz's attention was instantly on the captain again. "You know that Crimean politics are conducted differently than those of us Gallians."

Talos snorted. "This is not a Crimean affair. We are involved."

Ranulf avoided raking a frustrated hand through his hair. Instead, his expression hardened. "I need you to think with your head and not your claws for once! What you so rashly suggest would in all probability result in the death of a Crimean civilian. In even ordinary circumstances you can bet the injured country would be far from pleased. But additionally, we have a peace treaty with Crimea. Killing one of their farmers without so much as an attempt at negotiation would grossly violate that treaty. Countries have gone to war for less."

"Sir," Talos mumbled, mollified. Around him, a few of the other soldiers scuffed their booted feet across the scarred ground; none spoke. Ranulf scanned each set of eyes in a quick motion, noting the traces of incredulity in most, including Talos's. He knew the men respected him and would probably be dependable during this mission regardless of their doubts. However, he was also aware that most of his feline brethrens' understanding of beorc policies was limited. He made a point of drilling these cultural differences into his men when the opportunities arose, but head-knowledge and practical knowledge were two separate things entirely. Few laguz had much dealings with beorc. Fewer still were so intimately involved in beorc politics as he. Often was he faced with similar situations that forced him to double-take and reevaluate his approach to explaining beorc conduct.

For now, it appeared that further lecturing would be unnecessary. And probably detrimental, current chastising being leveled at an individual rather than the contingent as a whole. Ranulf did not wish to ostracize Talos with renewed harping. He hoped that his point was conveyed sufficiently enough today that no related incidents would arise on their short excursion.

After another fifteen minutes of orders, he dismissed the soldiers. Most appeared to have forgotten the incident and immediately fell back into their customary loud conversation and incessant bickering. Ranulf was not sure if this was a good or bad thing, but let it pass as he shifted his attention to Kyza.

"Hey, Kyza. A moment, please."

Kyza turned back questioningly. "Sir?"

The captain allowed himself to relax somewhat. True, Kyza adhered with singular fervor to formal etiquette and often appeared overbearing, but years of acquaintance with the tiger laguz had quickly broken that ice. Ranulf usually was not overly bothered by such mannerisms regardless. "It's come to my attention that most of this unit has minimal working knowledge of beoric dealings."

Kyza coughed tellingly.

"As such, I appreciate how your broader experiences enhance the chemistry of our little group," Ranulf continued. "Thanks for having my back earlier."

The tiger laguz brightened. "Always a pleasure to be of service, Captain."

"That's good, because I had another favor to ask of you," Ranulf replied with an opportunistic grin. Sometimes Kyza just set himself up for these things… "Could you—"

"Ranulf!"

The name rang powerfully across the field. A few heads turned from their various militaristic tasks to locate the source of the commotion. One unlucky soul's distraction was rewarded with a smack on his jaw from his less distractible opponent, sending him sprawling in a cloud of dust. Those not immediately affected by the voice quickly found themselves reconsidering their interest in the wake of bows and signs of respect paid by their more alert fellows.

A hulking man traipsed purposefully through the melee, head high and sholders thrown back, oblivious to the stares and hasty bows offered him by those he passed. His long silky sleeves and dark baggy pants rippled with his commanding strides. Behind him, his mane of thick red hair bounced wildly like a bright, neon conflagration.

"Hey, your Highness," Ranulf called back with a nod in the lion laguz's direction. Kyza stepped from in front of the captain and offered a formal bow as Skrimir's quick strides brought him to a halt before his much shorter chief advisor.

"How go preparations?"

"As well as can be expected from a lot of hot-headed testosterone-pumped soldiers itching for any sort of fight," Ranulf said lightly.

Skrimir laughed. "Ah, true soldiers of Gallia! I approve."

"I knew you would," the blue cat laguz admitted with a grin. "And how goes diplomacy?"

Skrimir snorted. "I bore of being trapped behind those puny walls."

"The price of power, Skrimir." Ranulf smiled ruefully.

"Bah!"

Ranulf ignored that. "Do your uncle and Giffca know you're out here?"

Skrimir's eyes narrowed in distaste. "I left Giffca in charge while I'm gone."

Ranulf assumed that this meant Caeneghis was unaware of his nephew's disappearance. Though with Giffca temporarily in charge, that might not last long. He raised an incredulous eyebrow up at the towering young king.

Skrimir crossed his arms challengingly. "What?"

"Giffca can't hold court, Skrimir. You know that."

"He was appointed by royal decree," Skrimir countered. "That should be good enough for those whining ninnies."

Ranulf laughed lightly. "Those 'whining ninnies' are your subjects and today is the last day for at least a week that they will be able to hold audience with you."

A grunt proportional to his bulk escaped the king. "You sound like my uncle."

"I'm pleased to hear it! He is known for his wisdom after all." Ranulf grinned impishly.

Skrimir smirked and pointed a gloved finger at the lithe cat's chest. "If I have to go back, you're coming with me. You can deal with those grouches."

"Fine," Ranulf conceded. "But at least pretend that you're interested."

"If you insist," Skrimir promised unconvincingly. With reluctance he headed back in the direction of the castle, heralding another smattering of curious glances amongst the soldiers.

The blue cat laguz refocused his attention on Kyza, who had mutely witnessed the captain and king's exchange and now watched the latter's departure with a blank expression. Although the man was fiercely loyal to king and country, Ranulf imagined that he was also somewhat miffed by Skrimir's flippancy. Such an attitude would grate on his sensibilities.

"So," he began again, meeting Kyza's eyes before he continued. "I'll make this fast. I've decided to add another to our number."

"Who, sir?"

"Lyre," Ranulf said without inflection. Before the other could protest, he explained: "As I said earlier, beorc experience will come in handy. Lyre had plenty in the last war and will therefore be a valuable addition to our party. I'd like you to convey to her this change of plans and tell her to get packed and ready to go by this afternoon. Understood?"

Kyza looked like he was choking. He managed another "Sir" before Ranulf dismissed him and strode purposefully after Skrimir, who by then was out of sight. As soon as his tiger laguz subordinate could not see his expression, a roguish smile spread across Ranulf's face. This new arrangement would undoubtedly provide ample taxations on him later—he would probably regret it then. But right now the development seemed awfully funny.

And it was practical in any case.

Ranulf caught up with Skrimir before the king was halfway back to his castle. It was more than apparent that His Royal Majesty had no intentions of arriving sooner than necessary. When he had discovered that the captain had lagged behind he had wasted no time in slowing his own pace. The two walked the rest of the distance together through the dense green forest that chocked the imperial city in a circuitous route per Skrimir's prodding and much to Ranulf's chagrin. The day had dawned and thus far remained cloudless, the sky having since then grown from the soft pastely yellows and oranges of early morning into a palid crystalline blue. Although there was no breeze, the descending chill of Autumn made for little warmth regardless. Underfoot, the scrubby brush and hardy grasses crackled dryly.

Ranulf found that he was secretly glad of the extended trek despite its inconvenience to anyone excepting himself and Skrimir. Although he had not noticed it at the time, over the course of his rather stationary speech he had grown slightly chill. The exercise now did wonders to warming his blood and chasing away some lingering fatigue. He could understand Skrmir's reluctance to stay indoors.

The walk was too short. Skrimir grumbled irritably as soon as the castle walls were in sight. Knowing that the big redhead might rebel against the whole notion of returning should he discover that Ranulf was similarly opinioned, the captain banished his enjoyment of the interlude and stubbornly goaded his superior quickly through the open gate and up the grand stone staircases that led to the throne room. Servants, soldiers, and citizenry they passed acknowledged the pair respectfully. More than a few appeared surprised to see Skrimir traipsing through the halls. Apparently he had done a thorough job of sneaking out earlier that morning. This surprised Ranulf—the flaming-haired lion laguz usually failed utterly at avoiding attention, what with his boisterous mannerisms, commanding appearance, and undeniable status. As they neared the throne room, a gaggle of servant girls bit their lips and chattered in hushed voices, throwing the king nervous glances over their shoulders.

"Am I missing something?" He finally asked Skrimir in a low voice once the girls were out of earshot.

Skrimir seemed surprised at the inquiry. "I don't know what you mean," he answered louder than Ranulf would have wished.

"Never mind, then."

Skrimir looked at him suspiciously. He probably would have questioned the smaller man if they had not just arrived at the imposing entrance to their destination. With a frustrated grunt, he passed by the guards and pillars flanking the cavernous access and burst unceremoniously into the throne room.

Inside, a few guards milled about the cavernous room. At regular intervals, huge bowl-like torches lined a blue carpet that ran from the entrance to a raised dais at the far end of the area. The outer walls were pillared and sunlight streamed from between the intricately carved supports on the left side of the room and into the inner corridor. The showpiece of the ensemble, a ponderous stone throne, sat unoccupied at the end of the strip of carpet.

Near the throne, Giffca was deep in conversation with a smaller blonde cat laguz who gestured expansively with his arms, his muscled back to the room's threshold. Behind the cat laguz stood four others—another cat and three tigers, Ranulf estimated with a glance—at stiff attention, watching the discussion without a word.

As Skrimir and he approached the tanned, black-haired lion laguz, Ranulf was able to pick up a bit of the one-way conversation.

"—refuse. I have traveled with my companions for a week and hear that the king will be gone for at least another and you tell me that he's unavailable?"

"I understand that you're disgruntled, but his Highness has many responsibilities and—"

"And so he could not spare time for appointments? A little flippant of him, don't you think? I will not be serviced by a retainer."

Giffca's eyes met Skrimir's in a brief flicker. His stoic expression remained unaltered as he continued with deliberate neutrality. "Such an attitude may prove unwise."

The blonde cat's eyes narrowed in distaste. "Yours or mine?"

"Enough," Skrimir bellowed loudly from halfway across the throne room. The irate cat laguz turned sharply. He bowed briefly, though he did not appear to be surprised or apologetic. His mute companions followed suit.

"What seems to be the problem here, Giffca?"

Giffca nodded an emotionless greeting. "Of which do you speak?"

The blonde laguz leader shot him a dark look, but said nothing.

Skrimir came to a halt beside the sturdy, black-haired man. "Whichever is most important. Let's make this brief."

Ranulf cringed inwardly at Skrimir's complete lack of tact. He made a mental note to mention the issue later.

Giffca motioned toward the angry cat laguz standing before them with one leather-greaved arm. "This man seems to have a complaint."

"I see," Skrimir noted mildly. He addressed his next statement to the man in question: "You must be…"

"Vinx," Ranulf supplied under his breath without looking at Skrimir.

"Vinx," Skrimir repeated.

"Ophrem province," Ranulf muttered.

"From Ophrem," the king finished fluidly. "Of what do you and your companions wish to speak with me?"

Ranulf made another mental note.

Vinx appeared to have regained enough composure to answer the king almost tactfully, his glower considerably less fierce. "We wish to speak with your Highness," his eyes danced from Giffca, who still stood beside the king, back to Skrimir, "about a bit of hard luck that has recently fallen upon Ophrem. I am unsure if the capitol has experienced the late summer storms?"

Skrimir's brow furrowed a bit impatiently. "No, we're too far inland to generally be bothered by such things until later Autumn. What of it?"

"Ophrem's been hit hard this year. As you know, we're a costal village. Weather can be pretty nasty near the ocean."

"And?" It was pretty clear that Skrimir wished for the blonde cat to get to the point, though he seemed at least curious now.

"And… we're a mess." Vinx laughed disparagingly. It sounded strained considering recent tempers. He apparently had decided to ignore Skrimir's bluntness, or at least not wear any more irritation on his face. "Besides the usual mess caused by our storms, a few of the bigger trees in our village fell this year. The aftermath is considerable."

"It's usually not this bad," one of the tiger laguz added with a shrug from behind his leader.

"So, you need help cleaning up," Skrimir concluded, crossing his arms. He seemed more relaxed, now that he was aware of the extent of the problem. It occurred to Ranulf that his help would not be needed anytime soon; Skrimir could easily take care of maintenance issues. He resigned himself to the task of observer for the rest of the proceedings, keeping an emotionless eye on Vinx and company.

Vinx was apparently aware of the perusal. He gave Ranulf a cagey glance before continuing.

"Yes," he agreed somewhat distractedly. "Like he said, it's not usually this bad. In the past we've taken care of these things just fine on our own."

Skrimir made his decision with characteristic promptness. "I'll send a few soldiers out immediately to aid your village. Ranulf! Suggestions?"

Vinx appeared surprised, but Ranulf had little time to ponder that before he turned to answer the young king. "How about Lethe? She's dependable."

It happened quickly. From the corner of his eye, the captain perceived a flash of white from behind the now-tense Vinx, who looked over his shoulder anxiously. One of the soldiers nearby yelled something, but Ranulf had already thrown himself towards the aggressor with a shout.

There was no time to transform, just to react. For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. Ranulf was at once aware of the tell-tale shimmer that surrounded two of Vinx's tiger laguz companions, a vicious snarl that distorted their leader's features, and the deadly determination emanating from his quarry—the other cat laguz in Vinx's party.

Then the picture shattered as a sharp pain shot from the airborne cat captain's abdomen, focusing his attention fully on his own problems. But it was too late for his assailant. Ranulf's velocity carried him inexorably into the other cat laguz, and the two tumbled to the carpeted ground with a crash. The other man gasped as the wind rushed from his lungs on impact. Ranulf pounded at him mercilessly in a series of well-placed punches and kicks. The other warrior was good, but he was better, and his quick counterattack had been unanticipated. The captain managed to box the attacker into unconsciousness with only a few minor injuries to show for his trouble.

The conclusion of the battle assaulted his keen senses. All around, other individuals who had so recently stool idle at court now clashed amidst a cacophony of snarls, roars, and painful yelps. Most of the other felines had by now transformed, and they slashed at each other with mighty claws and huge fangs. The acrid smell of blood roiled from the immediate vicinity, and dark red splotches of it adorned beasts and floor alike.

The scuffle ended before Ranulf had time to stand, Skrimir finishing it all with a lion's roar and a powerful swipe of his bright red forepaw. The last standing tiger laguz assailant was sent sprawling onto the floor with a dull but audible crack, where he lay inert and bleeding.

Ranulf scrambled to his feet as the laguz around him shifted back into their humanoid forms, but a sharp report from his gut lanced through his body and he stumbled into a kneeling position. Holding his middle protectively, he gasped a ragged breath.

"Ranulf!" Skrimir shouted with concern somewhere nearby. The captain was aware of the other's pounding footsteps as he fumbled about his clothing for the source of the pain. His hand brushed a protruding wooden handle, and he swiftly but carefully slipped a wet knife from his abdomen. The action brought fourth a renewed trickle of blood from the now open wound.

Skrimir cursed roundly as he knelt beside his friend.

"I'm fine," Ranulf lied on impulse. A sudden cough strangled the rest of whatever else he would have said.

"Let me handle this," a dark shape from Ranulf's other side declared in a voice that dismissed all question. Giffca dropped into a crouch beside the captain and inspected the wound instantaneously. With sure fingers, he gripped the brown fabric of Ranulf's shirt and ripped away the impeding material with a swift jerk of his big hands. Dark spots danced in front of the cat laguz's vision and he shook his head angrily to dispel them.

Another soldier was already handing the black lion laguz a rag, and Giffca took it and pressed it firmly against the blood-smeared wound. It was impossible as of yet to determine how serious it was.

Skrimir barked a few orders at those not incapacitated around them, and the room burst into another flurry of action. He turned to inspect the knife, picking it up by the handle.

The king growled a few more profanities. "Grrrrr, wood and bone! It's no wonder we couldn't smell it."

"Skrimir, don't touch that blade," Ranulf snapped. His voice sounded funny, but he pressed on after another cough. "It might be poisoned."

"I was foolish to let this happen," Skrimir hissed darkly, his eyes narrowing. He turned with knife in hand toward the prone body of Vinx, who was being bound roughly by two of the palace soldiers. Skrimir's expression darkened purposefully.

"Skrimir! Don't—" Ranulf began, but the words broke away as his consciousness faltered. Cursing inwardly at his own debilitation, he hoped the rash king would leave Vinx and his companions alive for questioning. Killing them now would accomplish nothing aside from revenge.

Surrounding noises and bustling melded into a meaningless jumble of sound and color. It occurred to Ranulf that he was about to pass out. Another thought intruded in upon this first: Lethe would probably think he was an idiot for being so careless.

Funny that he should think of something silly like that right now.

He almost smiled at the irony, but blacked out before he could.