Bunnitzol was annoyed to find his solitude and order interrupted by the sound of his neighbour Patrichev the Miner screaming and running for his life from a furious visitor, who hissed at him and repeatedly smacked him across the ears with a mace. He had been busy archiving some of his older scrolls that he no longer needed to refer to, making a careful inventory of which ones had been stashed away so nothing important got lost, when a particularly loud yelp from Patrichev made him spill his inkwell and almost knock his candle over. The large brown-furred Bunniv made enough noise on the best of days, with his constant tunnelling and chipping away at the cave walls until the venerable Judge was worried that the idiot would collapse the whole tunnel on their heads.

"Traitor! I knew it was you in league with Rhangrot all along!" screeched Arsene.

"You are mistaken! I am but a simple miner!" protested Patrichev.

"Which means you're the only person who can dig tunnels that quickly, and that you'd do just about anything for a good enough price," replied Arsene, "How long have you been plotting this? Where is Rhangrot hiding? Confess or die!"

The old Bunniv flattened his ears and bared his teeth. He had taken just about enough of this nonsense from the youths. Flinging the door open, he thumped the massive gavel in his tail-hand on the wall until the two of them stopped fighting for long enough to notice him. Grey and rather scraggly his fur might be, but he was still a large, powerful Bunniv who could hold his own in a making loud noises competition.

"No making a mess outside my doorway!" he ordered, "Someone could slip on that and break their hip! Or worse, get their papers messy! Do you know how much I can sue you for I fall?"

"It was his fault! He jumped out of a hole and attacked me!" Patrichev pointed to Arsene with his own hand-tail tool, a pickaxe.

"It was his hole," said the Bunnia.

"No more holes near my cave. I warned you about that," said Bunnitzol, "Arsene, whatever are you doing all the way over here?"

"I need your advice, to be honest. I'm glad I caught you," said Arsene. As soon as he took his eyes off the miner Bunniv, Patrichev bolted down the corridor, muttering colourful expletives.

"Well, come in, if you promise not to pick a fight. This here's neutral territory."

"Not when certain people around here aren't respecting the treaty, it isn't, but I'll keep the peace for now, out of respect for you," said Arsene. Bunnitzol rolled his eyes and waved the arrogant Bunnia in anyway.

His cave was small but well-lit. Most of the surfaces were covered in scrolls, pens and mathematical tools. Drawers and shelves were stuffed with carefully filed stacks of scrolls. Next to a comfortable-looking nest were the remains of a large breakfast and an urn of very strong-smelling, pure black coffee. The old Bunniv immediately hopped back onto his stool and picked up the coffee in his tail-hand, letting the sharp taste and the flow of warm liquid energy focus his distracted mind.

"You need help with Rhangrot?" he guessed. Most of Bunnitzol's writings were on legal matters and he was the go-to Bunnit for any issues regarding a dispute with another Bunnit that couldn't be resolved by challenging them to a duel or ignoring them.

"Something a little further afield, actually," said Arsene, "I'm hoping you might at least know something, though."

Bunnitzol's ears pricked up. It wasn't unknown to ask him about a matter outside his field of expertise. As a scholarly Bunnit, he tried to keep up to date with the basics on a range of topics, especially relating to Bunnit society in general. He had also traveled all around the Bionis when he was younger and rumours even claimed that he had visited the Mechonis. This was nonsense, of course, but he had met some Mechons on the Bionis and had a few contacts within their ranks who at least wouldn't shoot him on sight.

"Did you have another vision?" he guessed. The last time Arsene visited him with a problem, it had been about another prophetic dream, one that had predicted a swamp fire started by a drunk Nopon that could have wiped out the entire Satorl stronghold if had not been pre-empted.

Arsene nodded and described his dream-vision. Bunnitzol nodded thoughtfully, "Valak Mountain, eh? I knew something was stirring up there."

"Why would I have reason to go there, and to battle giants, of all people?"

"Maybe it's the Bionis' way of telling us that it's about time we dealt with the giant problem for good, one way or another," said Bunnitzol, "There are big giants up on the Mountain, you know. Well, all giants are big, that's why they're called giants, but these ones make the others look like runts. I think they're the leaders, or something. I wouldn't know, I've never got a civilised conversation out of a giant. Are you sure you're going to battle them, by the way?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because the mountain giants are terrifying and it's a stupid idea to try and fight them, especially alone, and on their own territory which is hostile to Bunnits. And because the dream said nothing about the spiders. If you were just going to wipe out the threat, the spiders are the bigger threat. The giants at least can be reasoned with in theory, and they might even calm down of their own accord if the spiders stopped attacking them. If you're heading to the giants first, it's probably to negotiate an alliance."

"But you just said you couldn't get a civilised word out of one."

"I didn't say it would be easy. It just makes a lot more sense than getting yourself killed trying to fight one."

"The Bunnits have never been forced to make an alliance with another species. It would be contrary to our nature as the superior beings of the Bionis," said Arsene. Then, in a whisper, "I agree with you that it sounds the more sensible option, but it would be never be allowed. Even if the Court didn't outright forbid it, I'd have to deal with challenges to my right to rule and attempts on my life from all sides for the rest of my life."

"Doesn't sound too different to your life now," Bunnitzol pointed out, scratching behind his ear with his tail-hand.

"Oh, those aren't serious threats to my life. It's much worse if you've actually done something to disgrace yourself. They're just being murderous on general principle. Except Rhangrot. There's something seriously twisted about his mind."

"If you say so. I'm no healer," he snorted, "Well, that's my advice. I'd act sooner rather than later if I were you. It'll be winter soon and you don't want to be up on the mountain when the blizzards start. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Arsene shook his head, "That'll be all, thank you. You've been very useful..."

Suddenly, the Bunnia froze. His ears pricked straight up and his nose twitched. His eyes glazed over with a faraway look.

"What is it?" demanded Bunnitzol. There was no response. Arsene may as well have been a statue of an already dead Emperor. Another vision, the Judge realised, chittering his teeth in irritation. Now he would never get the annoying visitor to go away.

Patrichev was still running. By the looks of his surroundings, a particularly wide cavern full of dormant, lazy Caterpiles, he had fled all the way to the entrance to Tephra Cave. His eyes were wide with fear and his fur was covered in soil and dust. Cruel satisfaction filled Arsene at the thought of his enemy fleeing in terror before him, abandoning all dignity, but he kept himself composed and watchful. His visions didn't come to tell him of something so mundane as another Bunnit running somewhere.

Patrichev's eyes were focused somewhere else and his eyes widened, the fear on his features contorting into an almost insane panic. He was looking straight ahead, his neck craning to watch something above him, or maybe something much bigger than him, something that came inexorably closer to him.

The brown-haired Bunniv bared his teeth and tightly gripped his pickaxe in preparation for a hopeless last stand. Arsene saw the glowing blue arc of the blade, then the blood welling up to mix with the pool of water that had slowly trickled down from the ceiling. The blue blade of light... a pounding headache hit him as he broke off suddenly from the vision.

"Patrichev... Patrichev is dead," he hissed, his breath coming out in strangled gasps, "The threat. It's coming towards us."

"What threat?"

"The blue blade..."

"A blue blade? Wielded by a Homs?" Bunnitzol demanded. Arsene nodded.

"Run," ordered the old Judge, "Go back through the tunnels. I'm collapsing the main entrance to the inner caves. I don't think Homs can get in through the tunnels. Warn the others about the invaders. And, please... if you're going on that quest of yours, get a move on with it. The situation's just changed. I'm going to get myself killed for saying things like this one of these days, but I don't think we can handle this on our own."