Kardran sat at the base of a tree, sharpening one of his daggers slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and the overwhelming darkness of failure.

It had started so easy…planted as a spy within Crimson Tears during the reign of Gadric Kurion. Now and again, he had been called upon to order unsavory tasks, but only against rival gangs, only against those no more innocent than the other criminals Kardran worked with daily.

The coming of Geras Iridanis had changed that. The ferret's brilliance surpassed by his ruthlessness and cruelty and quickly he made allies amongst Crimson Tears with his promises of glory, even employing the famed Jald Nightson and soon Crimson Tears's full strength was arrayed behind Geras Iridanis, who was free to pursue his dream of an empire and now it seemed he had all but succeeded.

Could only two beasts really stand in his way? Kardran couldn't believe that. The Iridian operative had pleaded his case to his superiors more than once, but the warrior order had refused to move against Crimson Tears in open aggression. As a result, Kardran felt certain his soul was forever stained by the things Geras Iridanis had forced him to do.

Since the incident with the Calpathions-it seemed like an eternity to the otter formerly known as Garic Riverblade- his belief in justice had been slipping, his heart and mind clouding in depression and guilt; his destiny may have been to die an ignominious death in the dark underworld, his own allies denying he ever existed, his name becoming little more than a footnote in history; a disconcerting thought that by all rights shouldn't enter his mind at the moment, traveling with the Ice Wolves.

But, he privately wondered if they were as cruel as he had been taught; Jirik was a bloodthirsty demon, there was no doubt of that, but Harkon, Kallia and Curian seemed to truly believe what they were doing was right, the three soldiers following the lord they had pledged themselves too, just as Garic had done in the Iridian order. He hoped those three could be spared if the situation indeed came to full out battle, but he would end the life of Jirik Valrik or Hallic Thargo with enthusiasm. The Iridians were instilled with simple, yet vital principles: the defeat of the threats to peace. Kirathal Frostclaw's goals and means certainly conflicted with Garic's beliefs. The Iridian Order could not stand idly by and watch a madbeast attempt to hurl the world into war.

Kardran looked up, his eyes locking upon the familiar forms of Curian and Harkon. The larger, healer fox was standing with his arms folded over his broad chest, staring down at the smaller, golden fox whose teeth were drawn back in a snarl of fury and offended righteousness. "How DARE you suggest that to me, Harkon!"
"I merely state what I have observed," The healer replied in an even tempered voice, "Jirik mentioned his orders and we both know he obeys Kirathal to the letter despite his perversions and appetites."

"I don't CARE! This was a fluke, a time when he went too long without a mission and couldn't resist a slaughter! Don't you bring this to me! Don't you ever fucking suggest he'd order that! He's a hero, a savior to you and I!"
"Curian, I know what he did for you-"

"You know nothing!" Curian snarled, eyes blazing, "They were going to eliminate me…they sent a squadron to execute me…he saved me there, he gave me a purpose when the war was over. He did the same for you!"
"We've paid our debt." Harkon replied calmly, "A thousand times over."
"To Lord Frostclaw? Perhaps…to our comrades, to the very spirit of war he represents? To the soldiers who lie dead, buried and forgotten? It will not be enough until we've brought about our war and stopped the injustices." His voice had taken a fanatical tone, "When I die, it will be in a battle, it will be as a true soldier. Toll no bell for me, proclaim my death not! So long as one soldier can be forgotten, then let my body lie where it falls…let the name of Curian Sword-Collector be forgotten, but let Kirathal Frostclaw endure…let him be the hero and the harbinger."

A sad look entered Harkon's eyes and he lowered his head. "I know…I suffered much before he saved me, Curian. I was wrong to have questioned this. Forgive me."

"I won't mention this to him when he gets back…"

"Thank you." Harkon's tone sounded neutral, but Kardran knew a tumultuous struggled raged in the usually passive fox's soul at the moment. "Jirik will be back shortly."

"He went off by himself again!"

"Not far. Hallic was sleeping soundly and Jirik swore to me he wouldn't kill anything or anyone. You know he keeps his word."

"Good," Curian sighed, exhaustion replacing rage. "We need to finish this and get back…"

"In his name." Harkon said softly.

"Always." Curian replied with a nod, "And for what we fight for."

No clarification was necessary

"You are taking too long, Jirik!"

"Patronize me not, Zamaz," Jirik's crimson eyes narrowed, his back pressed flat against the large tree, unable to see the beast he conversed with at the moment who was in a similar situation on the other side of the tree. Despite this, Jirik could see him in his mind as clearly as if Zamaz stood before him at the moment. Jirik comforted himself with the thought of driving knives in Zamaz's thighs at the moment, but the pleasing thought could not be turned into reality. Zamaz possessed a streak of caution that bordered on cowardice and Jirik despised him for that.

"Patronization isn't the case here, Valrik…" The whisper had the feel of a shadow brushing alongside the wind, "He grows impatient…"

"He has waited many decades. He can wait a few more years."

"Hn," Zamaz's voice sounded scornful, "You expect me to convey that message?"

"No," Jirik replied coldly. "I grew too eager yesterday and in my…enthusiasm I left a sizeable amount of beasts dead. Tell him Kirathal has everything underway and I will do all I can to see his plans come to fruition."

"Jirik, the other six are proceeding as usual…our operations in the North go little ways. We are relying on you quite a bit. Don't flatter yourself that all our hopes rest on you, though. They don't."

"I know that. I will have this accomplished, Zamaz…we will stand by to observe power in this coming war."

"And seize it." Jirik could see the smirk form on Zamaz's lips.

"Indeed." Jirik replied with a nod, Differences aside, they were brothers in both this cause and another, more literal sense. "For Chalisin!"
"For Chalisin…when next we meet you will either be returning in high triumph or you'll be on an executioner's block."

"Don't try to look too jealous when it's the former," Jirik replied, allowing himself a fierce grin, "This is my cause and Kirathal is our valued champion. I will not fail. Give my love to father…"

"He'd never believe you'd say that…"

"Hmph, true…give him my best."

"Very well," There was a rustle of cloth and Jirik knew Zamaz was gone.

Jirik removed himself from the tree and started the trek back to camp. Zamaz's arrival had proven unexpected, moreso that the other killer had managed to track him down. Ah, well…it was as Jirik said.

He'd return to his family in victory. Of course this would be after his lifelong goal of eternal war and rivers of blood turning the world scarlet. And soon, very soon, he'd have an extra bit of fun: Eroket Nightblade. To strip away everything from a beast except desire for revenge always made the kill more satisfying.

Yes, the eternal war and the great power he would wield would, the thousands that would fall before him…he was delighted to think that the death of one ermine who had him so enamored would be the gateway.

He hoped Eroket would feel honored.