The Fourth Carmine

by Moonlit Hunter

A mistake in a fuinjutsu array often has unexpected consequences, and when Minato makes a mistake during the sealing of the Kyuubi, it sends the newborn Naruto to a world rife with a war unlike any that Elemental Nations has ever seen. There are four Carmine brothers, three of which we have met. Prepare to meet the fourth in a story of Adventure, Family, War, and maybe even Love!

3. Welcome to Illima

The Fourth Carmine, Ch. 3

Hello once again. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to write a review.

I still do not own Naruto or Gears of War.

-Port Farrall Hospital-

Nikolai Symernov was a small man by Tyran standards; standing 5'4" and weighing no more than 130 pounds. While he was in his early fifties, his stress-wrinkle ridden face made him look twenty years older. He had an interesting life, albeit increasingly stressful. Nikolai was born in the north-most region of Pelles, the largest country on Sera during the Pendulum wars and a member of the former UIR (Union of Independent Republics). Growing up his family large family was poor, but thanks to lady luck and Nikolai's natural intelligence, he was discovered by the Pellesh government and was given a solid scholarship to the leading medical school in the country. Nikolai had plans to open up his own place of practice in the countryside until three of his siblings perished in a Gorasni hospital after being wounded in the Pendulum War. After personal investigation, Nikolai learned just how bad the medical care was on the frontlines for the soldiers. He had no other choice but to get a job in a hospital on the front to make sure that his now deceased siblings' experience would not be spread to other families. Prior to the Locust's complete destruction of Gorasnaya during the early days of the Locus War, he had become affluent due to his skills. He was a refugee and a nurse for the COG on the front lines of the Locust War. It was frustrating at the best of times, working with and saving those whose country his had been warring with for the past 79 years. At the worst of times… well, at least they weren't physically violent to him.

Many of the patients assigned to him often looked at him with fear or anger, sometimes a combination of both, whenever his voice was heard. Those who were less injured often refused to allow him to treat them, making his job quite difficult. Hey, he took an oath! He would NEVER harm a patient if it wasn't necessary to heal them! Sadly, that was not the most difficult part of the job. The sheer number of patients needing treatment had every single person in Port Farrall with even an ounce of medical training on their feet for at least 14 hours a day every day.

Today's job was mostly administrative: prepare injured and recovering COG soldiers to be transferred to one of the three hospitals in Illima, a large city in the south-east of Tyrus on the Jacinto Plateau. Their hospitals were much more capable and the city itself was much more secure. Nurse Symernov was to record all necessary information, such as dates of birth, hometowns of the wounded, injuries, medicinal allergies, etc. All this information would go Illima and the to the COG military heads, so that they could notify any family relations that the injured persons were being moved, as well as a general update on their condition.

Nurse Symernov's last group of patients were those with serious head injuries, many of which were comatose. He was not very familiar with this area of the hospital, seeing as his skill set was geared (pun intended) towards short term care and emergency treatments.

The comatose patients were easy enough, and Nurse Symernov didn't have to waste breath nor time nor energy explaining the situation, much to his relief. Some of the conscious patients of the ward were also relatively easy, simply staring at him with wide eyes as he spoke with his thick Pellesh accent. Whether or not they were listening to him or not was unknown, but he didn't really care. If they didn't listen, it wasn't his problem. It would be theirs once the big men in white came to move them.

Nurse Symernov's next patient was the oddest yet, due to the fact that there were two of them: a baby sleeping soundly on a teen's chest. Curious, Symernov snatched the two charts at the foot of the bed, wondering why such a child would not be at the maternity ward.

The first chart read as such:

Name: Clayton Carmine

D.O.B: 22nd of Bloom, 17 BE

Home Town: Belfaun

Allergies: None

Injuries: Severe concussion, Comminuted fracture in the right ulna, stable fracture of the right radius, single deep-puncture wound to the lower back, various other non-substantial injuries.

Ouch. Those injuries would take quite a bit of time to heal. Looks like the COG would be lacking a soldier for some time. Symernov's gaze shifted to the second chart, which read as such:

Name: Naruto Carmine

D.O.B: 10th of Harvest 0 AE

Home Town: Unknown, assumedly Jasper

Allergies: None known

Injuries: Minor fractures along rib pairs 6-8.

Symernov vaguely remembered hearing something about these two through what they called "the nurse grapevine". The story was told that this man wiped out a squad of Locust by himself with nothing more than a pistol whilst protecting the infant. He also apparently trekked halfway across Jasper with a rather severe concussion. Both claims seemed a little farfetched to Symernov, but he had no say in whether it was true or not.

This did not answer the question as to why the child was here in the coma ward. The friendlier nurses had mentioned that the child would wail constantly whenever he was away from the unconscious Clayton. To avoid this incredible annoyance, the maternity nurses had moved little Naruto to a bed by his apparent brother. There was zero evidence of blood relation between the two of them; no birth records, no bloodwork done, no nothing. There really wasn't time and the hospital at Port Farrall didn't have the most modern equipment or enough doctors and nurses to take care of non-necessary things. The only thing the doctors and nurses went by was the two had the same hair color and word of mouth.

By the time that Private Clayton Carmine had reached the evacuation zone in Jasper, he had become delirious from the combination of his injuries; word was that he collapsed just within arms reach of his fellow surviving Gears. Any and all questions asked of him were responded to with random phrases that made no sense, with the exception of one. When asked who the child was in his arms, Carmine responded with a weak utterance of "brother." His fellow Gears asked no further questions regarding the subject, and just like that, the Carmine Clan had another member.

-Several weeks later, Illima's Military Hospital-

Clayton Carmine wasn't having a fun time for the past two weeks. For instance, when the doctors finally decided that he could start moving about on his own, he occasionally suffered some blinding vertigo which left him with vomit on his shirt. The skin under the cast of his right arm constantly itched, and with no relief available, it was driving him insane! Lastly, the walls of his room in Illima's military hospital were pale white with absolutely zero interesting things to look at. His fellow patients sharing a room with him were a dreary bunch and were more interested in crying and moaning in pain and sadness to be of any good company. Ugh, how he hated it here!

Clayton's only solace came with a rather large pinch of salt: his family could visit him at least twice a week. His family's home in Belfaun was a solid six hours away from Illima. With his mother being the only member of the family with a driver's license, other than Clayton, they must have moved close by. There was no way, in any of the three hells, that his mother would ever leave her ancestral home willingly. It could only mean one thing: Belfaun was destroyed. It was possible that everyone he knew was dead, save for his immediate family, his uncle, and his cousin from Halvo Bay. It was…. difficult, to say the least.

Belfaun was a medium-sized city with an agricultural base. His family owned sixty acres of land with a single farm house since before the Pendulum Wars which started 79 years ago or so. Here they grew onions, beans, and beets. They raised and sold pigs and sheep as well. The entire city was almost completely self-sustaining, needing only imports of Imulsion, salt, and a few other things. His house had two floors and a very sturdy basement/bomb shelter, just in case. The walls and roof were made of thick, solid wood and were completely handmade, much like the other homes in Belfaun. His family home had five bedrooms and two bathrooms, thankfully with indoor plumbing. His mother and father took the largest bedroom, five-year-old Anthony had the second smallest, three-year-old Benjamin had the smallest room, and Clayton had the middle room. The second largest room was reserved for guests who needed/wanted to stay the night. The ground floor held a rather large dining room and connected kitchen where his parents prepared meals. The front door led to the living room and took up most of the ground floor. Here, the Carmine Clan would entertain guests, tell stories, and occasionally watch a Vonner Bay Vandals Thrashball game. But no longer. The Locust stole their home from them, much like it had many others in the short seven months since Emergence Day.

During one of her earlier visits, his mother had told him that she and the other Carmines took residence in Uncle Rudrick's winter home on the North side of Illima. They still had a roof over their heads, unlike many of the less fortunate refugees pouring into the cities on the Jacinto Plateau. Clayton could scarcely remember Uncle Rudrick's Illima home, nor Uncle Rudrick himself. The last time Clayton remembered seeing him was over a decade ago, so he didn't know much. However, his father had spoken well of his brother, which would have to be good enough. Uncle Rudrick's son, Fredo, was a reporter for the COG, but that was pretty much all that Clayton knew about him.

Clayton's thoughts soon turned to the newest addition to the family: the baby he saved in Jasper, Naruto. When the two of them escaped from the dying city, Clayton had apparently told the doctors that Naruto was his brother. Clayton was incredibly disoriented at the time, so who knew what stuff came out of his mouth at the time? Surely not him! Thankfully, his cognitive abilities had been recovering well. Sure, he was still having periods of short-term memory loss and tip-of-the-tongue moments, but that mostly involved small stuff like what slop the hospital had served for him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on occasion. His mother couldn't make anything that bad even if she tried! For the matter, neither could he!

His newest brother had been released into his mother's care a week ago, the handoff going peacefully as soon as Naruto reached Mama Carmine's experienced arms. While Clayton wasn't anywhere near the exchange during the proceedings, his mother had stated during their last visit that Naruto's big amethyst eyes lit up the second he saw her. Clayton chuckled at the memory; Mama Carmine had that effect on children.

A zombie-eyed nurse entered the room after a quick knock, rousing Clayton from his thoughts. The nurse had shoulder-length brown hair which hung limply from her scalp. Her face was unpainted and pale, a sign that she probably hadn't any spare time during her day for such menial and unimportant things such as sleep. The bags under her pale eyes only led credence to this assumption. She held a bucket of sudsy water and a large, square sponge that looked like it had seen many backs today already. It was bath time for those who could not do it themselves, whose numbers were as unfortunate as they were large. Thankfully, Clayton was not among their number. The nurse did not even give Clayton a passing glance as she stumbled to the far end of the room to start her duties.

'Sucks to be her,' Clayton thought with a grimace. 'Then again, it sucks for all of them…' Carmine spared a glance to the area in which the nurse had started. That area contained the worst-off of the lot, those injured so badly that the only thing able to overpower the smell of heavily used medical anti-septic and medical waste was the almost palpable feelings of self-pity, hopelessness, and despair. No one deserved to have their legs blown off. Nobody deserved to have their entrails spilled in front of them. No one deserved to watch their friends bleed out in their arms, trying desperately to hold on just a bit longer. If he didn't get out of here soon, he might just off himself to avoid the utter despair that threatened to completely choke the air out of his lungs with every moment.

- Two months later (30th of Haze, 0 AE (30/12/0)) -

Clayton Carmine was free, finally free! Granted he was currently in a wheelchair being pushed by his mother, but he was on his way out! The week before his release was easily the longest week of his life, a single second felt like hours. His arm was in the process of healing in a cast, but at least he still had it. The doctor told him that the cast should be able to come off in a few months' time, maybe even less if he was lucky. However, it would be some time yet before he would be able to return to active duty, given the time needed to both recover and to rehabilitate.

As Clayton's mother pushed his wheelchair out of Illima's military hospital, he received his first glimpse of the city. It was…. big. Much larger than any city Clayton had ever been to. Ever. Not a single building in sight was shorter than six stories tall. Every building in sight was made of some sort of white stone, perhaps marble? Perhaps white-painted concrete? Clayton didn't know, he wasn't an architect nor a stone mason. Well-formed gray sidewalks sandwiched perfectly paved streets, on which various kinds of Tyran-made automobiles glided smoothly. The powerful stench of exhaust made Clayton's nose cringe, but it was a welcome change to the sterile aroma of the hospital he had been constantly exposed to for the past few months. The car that his mother was approaching was a small, four-door vehicle and looked to be at least thirty years old. It was probably inefficient in its Imulsion consumption, but nothing beat the inefficiency of the old junker his family used in Belfaun. At least his family still had access to a motor vehicle, otherwise the trek to his new home would be a long and laborious one due to his injured state. He doubted the hospital would just give a wheelchair away for free during wartime.

As the two Carmines reached the steps leading towards the street, Clayton stood with the help of his mother. He experienced small bout of wooziness, but he steadied himself with the firm hands of his mother. Soon after, Clayton was heading down the stairs while supporting himself on the guiderail with his left hand. His mother was a few steps behind him, ready to support him should his legs fail him once more.

Clayton was helped into the car's front seat by his mother, whom got into the driver's side of the vehicle. They both buckled in and were off. Much to Clayton's surprise, the car drove smoother than warm butter was spread on fresh toast. The smooth driving if his mother made this easily the most comfortable drive he had ever been on. Before he knew it, Clayton had dozed-off into a peaceful slumber.

Irma Carmine, or 'Mama Carmine,' as she was often called, was a large woman in nearly every way. She stood two inches over six feet tall, her shoe size was a men's twelve with everything else proportioned to match. Her muscles were toned, and their obvious density spoke of decades of hard physical labor; her broad shoulders were perfectly capable of carrying large quantities of long timbers and other such materials. What little skin that was showing was near-permanently tanned, showing clear evidence of long days of labor under the hot Seran sun. At a moment's glance, she appeared to be the hardest, toughest looking woman in Tyrus. Eyes of a rich dark chocolate sang a contradicting melody, however. The wrinkles on her face spoke of years of steady smiles and laughs. Her teeth, straight as can be, formed the perfect smile; one that she gave her first-born son as he laid sleeping in the passenger's seat of her 'new' car. As she approached an upcoming stop sign, she lovingly gave Clayton a soft squeeze on his shoulder with one heavily calloused hand. It wouldn't be long until they reached their new home.

Uncle Rudrick's Illiman home was in the northern outskirts of Illima proper; thirty minutes by car from the nearest hospital (which happened to be Illima's Military Hospital), thirty minutes on foot to the nearest public school, and if traffic was good, only 15 minutes away from the nearest bank by car.

Unlike the center of Illima, which was both more populous and more affluent, the buildings near/in the outskirts were much smaller with two or three stories being the average height. Unlike the well-sculpted areas of central Illima, the buildings on the outskirts were blocky and generally crafted with red brick or concrete. Every so often, stucco was used to add a more unique feel among the various neighborhoods. Paints used on the stucco varied from deep forest greens to whites, although 'cream' was the most popular.

Clayton awoke from his short car-nap as the engine cut out. Blurry-eyed, Clayton looked out the passenger-side window, which had doubled as a temporary pillow. He saw nothing but blurry colors and lines. Blinking several times in quick succession to clear the fog from his eyes, Clayton got his first sight of his new home. It would get some getting used to, that was for sure.

The two-story residence where the Carmine family was now housed was a red brick building with five concrete steps leading to two thick wooden doors hidden in a somewhat sheltered alcove which protected the doors from unpleasant weather. The doors had two square windows two feet by two feet on each door. A small front lawn was divided in two by a slightly worn concrete pathway which connected the sidewalk to the entry way to the house. There was no driveway, only two small parking spaces available on the street. One of which was occupied by a black minivan with rusting wheel rims. Clayton wasn't certain, but he could've sworn that he saw a few bullet-holes littering the rear bumper.

Whilst Clayton was checking out the outside of his new home, Mama Carmine exited the vehicle and rounded the front of the car to Clayton's door. As he wasn't doing it himself, she opened the door for him while extending her left-hand outwards to assist her first-born out of the vehicle, a hand which he graciously accepted.

As he was helped out of the car, no bouts of wooziness struck him, although the area where that exploding creature, which he later learned were known as "Tickers," had stabbed him ached a bit, but nothing that some stretches couldn't fix. Clayton leaned against his mother as they walked down the narrow concrete walkway towards the steps. As they ascended the steps, Clayton noticed something: there was no rampway to the entrance. While none of the Carmine family were truly reliant on wheelchairs, his father had a great deal of mobility issues caused by his rather severe injuries obtained during the Pendulum Wars.

His father, Ernst Carmine, had followed in his father's footsteps, who had followed in his own father's footsteps, and so on and so forth, all joining the COG military when they were of age. He and Irma had met during his first deployment to the northern front. The two hit it off almost immediately and eloped a few days after they returned from their tour of duty. After a nice promotion to lieutenant, Irma went into CIC, coinciding perfectly with her first pregnancy. Meanwhile, Ernst was still caught up with nationalistic zeal of his forefathers, signing up for a second deployment where he was stationed on the western Kashkur front. While taking part in an ambush in a joint Kashkuri-Tryan squad, Ernst had taken a stray Booshka round to the side. While he wasn't fully caught in the Booshka's kill-zone, unlike two of his squadmates, his left arm and leg were. The explosion disintegrated his left leg at the mid-femur and his left arm just above the elbow. The blast also broke several of his ribs, destroyed his ability to hear in his left ear, and ruined much of his vision in the same eye as well.

Despite the horror he and his squad experienced that day, three miracles broke through the thick fog of fear and despair for Ernst. Firstly, it was a miracle in and of itself that he had survived the blast at all, let alone the shock that followed. The second miracle came with the conveniently located squad medic who had been within ten feet of Ernst when the blast hit. The medic was not only very skilled and well-equipped, but they also had nerves stronger than the sides of a Centaur tank! Even then, the medic was barely able to keep Ernst alive. The third miracle was the fact that the Kashkuri-Tyran squad won the fight at all. The skirmish had turned into a massive shit show quickly after Ernst's injury, as the UIR forces received several squadrons of backup shortly after. It was through both sheer luck and the closeness of a nearby Tyran scouting squad they forced the UIR forces into retreat.

Two days after the battle, Ernst and the other wounded were air-lifted to an Ephyran hospital, all the while the battle for Ernst's life continued. The incredibly capable medical professionals at the Tryan capital were able to save his life. Nonetheless, Ernst Carmine had spent three years after his injury healing and being rehabilitated by various physicians. Given the extent of his injuries, however, he was no longer fit for any role in the military. Luckily, the COG military took care of their wounded veterans and payed for the vast majority of the hospital bills that Ernst had rung up, so the fledgling family did not fall into an immensely deep trench of debt they were unlikely to ever crawl out of.

Several prosthetics were available to Ernst with various degrees of functionality, some of which offered a great deal of mobility. However, those models were much too expensive for the Carmine family to afford. They were forced to procure lesser-functioning prosthetics. The arm prosthesis could be moved, but only by physically moving it with the remaining natural arm. The leg prosthesis wasn't much better. The knee of the prosthesis had very little give and wouldn't bend very far, so it was only useful for standing and walking. Any sort of activity that demanded a bending knee became a difficult chore, making ascending flights of stairs with steps numbering more than four frustrating. Descending stairs was rarely a problem. All in all, it was simply easier for the Carmine patriarch if there was a ramp involved.

The sight of a large staircase graced Clayton's vision as the great wooden doors opened. To the left of the stairs was a short hallway with wooden floors and faded, blue painted plaster walls. Through the illumination of the hallway's sole light fixture, Clayton saw two doors on the left-hand side, which was the only thing breaking the monotony of the hallway. Clayton had no time to explore the downstairs as Mama Carmine guided him up the stairs to the next section of the house.

The second floor of the house had more open space than the ground floor. A wood and glass door to the left of the stairs led to a small study, where Uncle Rudrick would most likely spend his off days reading or going over business documents. A small light shined through the window, indicating that Uncle Rudrick was probably in there. To the right was a door frame without a door, which led to a sort of sitting area. The room was furnished with two couches, able to sit five adults comfortably. A comfortable-looking, navy reclining chair sat in the corner of the room next to a curtained window. The flooring was hardwood, most likely oak, that covered all of the living with the exception of a three-colored ovular rug placed in front of a medium-sized tube TV. Connected to the living room was a small kitchen and dining area, much smaller than the one back in Belfaun. An ill-fitting refrigerator was squeezed into one corner of the kitchen. A small gas stove with three burners sat next to the sink where the remains of the Carmine clan's breakfast lingered, waiting to be washed. Other than that, however, this area was empty. Where was everyone?

"Anthony's at school, dear. Benjamin was feeling restless, so your father took him and Naruto on a walk to see the fire station." Mama Carmine mentioned as if reading his thoughts. "Rudrick's in the study. He's been working almost non-stop since Halvo Bay was destroyed," Mama Carmine continued.

Clayton grimaced at this. Small life insurance agencies rarely survived periods of war, especially when many with coverage die in one sitting. Trying to change the subject, Clayton asked, "What about Fredo?"

Mama Carmine paused for a moment before she shrugged. "I have no idea, he was never the most talkative person in the family. Maybe he's working?"

"Maybe… I suppose we'll find out later, right?" Clayton stated. The two of them continued through the house, passing two more rooms before reaching a doorway at the end of a hall. "How's Dad holding up? This place isn't exactly disability friendly…"

Mama Carmine paused as she reached for the door handle. "It has been… difficult for him. We will have to see if we can hire a contractor to make things better for him, but…. Well, we do not have a much income anymore," Mama Carmine said with a heavy sigh. "Chairman Dalyell cut back on military disability a few weeks ago."

"…Shit."

"Clayton, I know that the situation is not good, but please refrain from swearing around your old mother. I would not want to get the spoon out for you!" Mama Carmine reprimanded with a dreary smile as she opened the door. "This will be your room for now."

Clayton stopped cold, not even registering the door in front of him had been opened. No way did he want to get the spoon! He knew that she was probably joking, but he did not want to take that chance! "Sorry Mama…"

"It's okay Clayton, just don't do it again." Mama Carmine said with a small smile. "Now, you get settled in. You have a bit of unpacking to do!" At this, Mama Carmine gave her firstborn a strong, but gentle hug, planting a motherly kiss upon the top of his head before heading back down the hall.

Passing the threshold, Clayton got his first glance of the room that would be his. Steel-blue walls, a small closet was across from a queen-sized bed fit with hand-quilted covers. Above the bed hung a inscribed metal gear about the size of Clayton's fist. It was a typical symbol of Tyrus's main religion, Calcesism, which combined monotheism and a small amount Governmental worship. He would have to remember to take it down before he went to bed later tonight. A small desk and chair rested on the right side of the bed, complete with a small desk lamp. A decent sized dresser/mirror combination filled the space on the left side of the bed. Lastly, there was a small, barren bookshelf hiding in the last corner of the room. A switch to the side of the door switched on a reasonably bright overhead lamp. Like the rest of the house, the floor was a polished hardwood. Next to the bed were three smaller suitcases, holding all that remained of Clayton's things from their home in Belfaun.

Each of the suitcases were full, but not efficiently so. Clothing was thrown in and stuffed down in haste instead of neatly folded or rolled. It was obvious to Clayton that the Locust struck without warning, giving soon-to-be refugees little time to gather what they could and flee. There was little other than clothing packed in the suitcases. A few little league Thrashball medals from when he was younger, his high school diploma (which he was barely able to obtain), and a drawing that he made for his parents when he was twelve that his father had posted to the refrigerator immediately after Clayton presented it to them. That was right before Anthony was born, if he recalled correctly…

Clayton became lost in his memories as he started to robotically fold his clothes and store them in the proper areas. Vaguely, Clayton could hear the jingle of his mother's favorite game show coming from the television. The familiar sound brought a small smile upon his face. He supposed that some things never change. In his musings, Clayton almost missed a hand-sized object drop from an article of clothing that he had just picked up to fold. It landed on the wooden floor with a clatter. As Clayton bent down to retrieve the object, he was immediately struck with a bout of vertigo and fell to the ground on one knee. Taking a sharp inhale, Clayton rubbed his temple with his one good hand in an attempt to assuage the dizziness.

A few moments later, Clayton opened his eyes, conveniently setting his gaze immediately on the dropped object. On the ground lay a hand-sized pendant on a silver chain. A blooming white rose, shaded to perfect realism, took up the center of the piece. Underneath the rose lay two verdant-green leaves. Out of what would be the stem grew two pure white wings, expanding outwards and curling elegantly upwards to flank the rose. It was the symbol of Ilone, the Archangel of Peace. Gently picking up one of the many symbols of his family's faith, Clayton marveled at the craftsmanship. It was truly a well-made pendant, much like all symbols of the Archist faith, and one that had served him well. The pendant was a gift from his grandmother on his mother's side when Clayton was six. She had heard that he often experienced rather stressful dreams at night and gave him the pendant hoping that it would stave off the nightmares. It worked quite well, in Claytons opinion.

Before any other thoughts could cross his mind, a high-pitched shout of excitement sounded behind him. As he began to turn to face the source of the noise, Clayton was barreled into by a small child of no more than three years of age. The force the child's enthusiasm, mixed with the flat-footedness of Clayton resulted with both persons sprawled on the hard ground. With a groan, Clayton opened his eyes, hoping to learn the identity of his small assailant. Excitable blue eyes stared at him from underneath a shock of messy hair. His nose was small and adorable, perfect for booping. There could be only one person in his family: Benjamin Carmine.

"Clay-Clay's home! Clay-Clay's home!" Ben exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down on his eldest brother's chest.

"Heya Squirt," Clayton said with a happy/pained groan. While Ben didn't weight very much, the rough motions hurt Clayton's back. Thankfully, his father came to his rescue.

"That's enough, Ben. Let your brother breath, he's still healing." His father said in his deep tenor voice, filled with barely restrained mirth. Ernst Carmine was not a large man in any way, which often surprised people due to his deep voice. In his remaining arm rested little Naruto, who appeared to be tuckered out from his most recent adventure.

"Oopsie… Sorry Clay-Clay!" Ben said as he got off of Clayton's chest, only immediately giving him as big of a hug as a three-year-old could.

Clayton chuckled at this. Rolling over and standing up, Clayton patted his now second youngest sibling on the head, messing up Ben's hair even further. Despite Anthony's absence because of school, this was still a pretty great homecoming. Giving his father a somewhat awkward one-armed hug, Clayton glanced down at the symbol of Ilone that was still clutched in his good hand. With a smile on his face, he pocketed the pendant and made note to replace the gear above his bed with it later. Right now, he had family to catch up with.

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Dossier: Religions of the COG, part one

The most common religion in Tyrus (and in the COG overall) in a monotheistic faith known as Calcesism. This religion has a Heaven, which is considered to be a better place, and a Hell, where those deserving linger until their penitence is complete. Holy men and women who exemplify the best traits of humanity or commit many great deeds in times of hardship are sometimes venerated and made into Saints by the Calces church and/or high government officials. Calcesism is closely linked with the COG government, and since the beginning of the Pendulum Wars as been used to promote the COG war effort. During this time, Calcesism promoted the belief that the COG leaders be seen as solid sources of morality. This faith is most often practiced at cathedrals in large cities, or at home in the smaller ones. The main principals of Calcesism include but are not limited to: faith in yourself and others, living a sinless life, and generally not being a dick to other people, even if they have wronged you. Sins include but are not limited to: Adultery, gluttony, avarice, and cold-blooded murder.

The various nations of the COG enjoy religious freedom of worship and have since the Era of Silence (roughly starting in 117 B.E.).

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Author's note(s)

Calendar of Sera*

1) Storm, 37 days

2) Gale, 36 days

3) Hail, 36 days

4) Frost, 31 days

5) Ice, 32 days

6) Thaw, 30 days

7) Rise, 37 days

8) Bloom, 37 days

9) Bounty, 36 days

10) Harvest, 37 days

11) Heat, 36 days

12) Haze, 37 days

13) Brume, 35 days

Each month contain 10-day weeks

Emergence Day occurred on the 20th of Frost.

Seasons of Sera

Fall: Brume, Storm, Gale

Winter: Hail, Frost, Ice

Spring: Thaw, Rise, Bloom

Summer: Bounty, Harvest, Heat, Haze

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My apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors. In regards to this fic, I've been focusing most of my efforts into creating a feasible map of the world, as there is not an official/canon one. This is harder than it seems, as they have given me very little to work with, with the exception of which nation borders which. In addition to this, I have been creating a religion from scratch for the Carmine family. Not very difficult, as I've done a great deal of similar world building for my D&D campaigns. I will give you more details about the base faith in my next chapter, as well as a possible dossier about Ilone if desired.

Anyways, until next time!