A wide, rustic manor, surrounded by what looked to be at least a miles worth of farmnd, sat in an isoted area next to a river, the clear water crashing against the rocks that crested along its bank. Near this water were dozens of small, Tovron children, them bumping their growing horns together as they wrestled and ran about. Besides the house which housed these children was a fairly rge barnhouse, it housing a giant, many-legged rva-looking creature known as a formici queen. The queen id down on the ground while countless much smaller ant-looking creatures gathered grass, hay, and fallen trees into their swollen abdomens as a honey-like substance, these workers simply known as formici workers. Some of the tovron children would occasionally run past the working formici, the preteen tovrons roughly the same size as the creatures. A couple of bigger formici with gnarled mandibles chattered defensively as they gathered around their queen, the children eyeing the formici drones warily as they huddled around the massive, swollen lower body of the formici queen, with eggs steadily falling out of it and being gathered neatly by the workers. Stepping out of the house was an older looking tovron woman, a couple of her rge, burly sons behind as they walked towards the dirt pathway that led towards the nearest city. Crossing this pathway was a wooden carriage, the vehicle led by a rge, musclebound, six-legged and slightly insectoid creature known as a Gefyl, the skull-like formation that composed its head snorting through its mandibles while it stopped in front of the farm. Dante was back on a soil his boots were familiar with, being welcomed back with a rge gathering of his local family. At the front of the crowd was his mother, a slightly concerned look on her face as she approached her son. “Mijo! You’re - you’re back home already?! Did something wrong happen?” Dante smiled, taking out his tome and neckce before his mother took him in a hug, followed shortly by many others, the sounds of horns clinking together accompanied by a soft cheering. “Out of the way, guey!” A smaller tovron child ordered, shoving through the crowd and stepping over in front of Dante. “Hey! Marcello scratched me with a stick earlier, can you heal it?” Dante nodded, the loud-spoken boy presenting the slight gash on his arm before Dante. Dante stuck his sigil-covered palm forward, gently bringing his fingers onto the gash and muttering Remedium under his breath. To the children’s amazement, their eyes glue to the cut as it rapidly heals away, them quickly responding by running off to go find something to hurt themselves on to go next. Their mother ordered the much rger older ones to go catch them, before she turned back to Dante, looking over his scars with a bit of a pout. “My… they really did a number on you, Mijo. Are you alright?” Dante ughed, taking his mother in a gentle embrace as he opened his tome before her. “Don’t worry, it was all out of necessity. Without it, I wouldn't have all of these spells.” She smiled, sitting down with Dante against the wooden post as his father came running out. “Ah… shit, I’m sorry, Dante. I was trying to finish up the roast.” Dante’s mother snapped at him with a “Gerardo!” for his use of profanity, him trying to ugh it off in response. “Ooh, I’m sorry Zaira, I won’t… anyways, I think we have a healer on our hands, now! I already saw all the kids out the window throwing themselves out of trees in anticipation!” Dante got up, meeting his father with a firm handshake as he kept his book open in front of him. Turning to get a better look, Gerardo chuckled a bit as he looked over all the different words. “Wow, you really did just become a cleric like that. Heh… I guess that means you’re about ready to go out there and make a difference.” Zaira got up, shaking her head as she stepped beside Dante and his father. “What? No he isn’t. He’s just gonna stay here and heal our formici whenever they’re hurt… right?” She asked, looking over at Dante with a bit of a saddened expression. “...Mama, as much as I want to, I can’t be here my whole life. I’m going to stay here for the night… then after that, I’m going to be heading off to do my first job the day after.” Tears pricked at the edges of Zaira’s eyes, holding Dante’s hand as she leaned against him. “Mijo… there’s so much out there we don’t know. There’s bad people out there, people that will want to hurt you. You’re safe here, we have everything you’ll ever need. Please… I don’t want to see you leave.” She said shakily, Gerardo wrapping an arm around her as he tried to insert his thoughts. “Hehe. You should’ve known this was going to happen. Having Arrios around him while he was little, telling him all about the Helm and the adventures he had with it… was only a matter of time before Dante wanted in.” “Hah… I - I suppose you’re right, father. But it’s not as unsafe as you two think, the Guild will ensure I’m properly protected while I’m working.” Zaira nodded, some tears still leaving her as she released herself from the both of them. “Alright. But please remember, you can always come back and live with us whenever you want. You don’t have to do this.” Dante nodded, staying with his mother for a moment longer, enjoying a feast of roasted meat and formici honey before setting out to bid farewell to his childhood home. Dante had assumed prior that him setting out to Mauyonne and receiving his schooling would’ve already prepared him to say goodbye, but the warm, comforting embrace of such a safe and homely pce had far more of an effect on him than he could have ever anticipated. He looked out to see the fields of wheat and alfalfa growing from behind the farm, stretching out wide until it nearly reached the perimeter of an Amian vilge on the edge of a river. Though it was nearing the event, Dante figured he’d have the time to give this vilge one st visit before his departure. As Dante readied to venture through the fields, he stopped by the barnhouse, stepping in to see one of his older brothers tending to the queen, kneeling beside her giant swollen abdomen and harvesting the honey from it. When the tovron squeezed one of the queen’s teats a little too hard, the creature let out a shrill screech, the drones surrounding her quickly standing up and approaching Dante’s brother. “Oh, uh…” He turned to Dante, raising his hands defensively as the drones cshed their mandibles together, readying to charge the man. They stopped when Dante approached, a gentle smile on the tovron’s face as he pced a hand between the thick chitin pting on the drone’s bodies, carefully sliding his fingers between the natural armor and scratching the sensitive skin on the drones. This earned a purr from the creatures, their earlier aggression fading, causing a relieved look to form on Dante’s brother’s face. “Phew. Thanks, guey.” “Of course. Though…” Dante chuckled, kneeling down next to the queen and pulling the slightly filled bucket closer, carefully massaging her teeths and letting the honey drip down into the bucket. “Try and be more gentle with the queen, Gael. I won’t be around much longer to protect you all from the drones.” “Haha. Right. I almost forgot that you’re… gonna head out here in the morning.” Gael sighed, crossing his arms as Dante turned his head and looked up at him. “Look, I know we give you shit about being skinny and weak and all, Dante, but…” Gael smiled, stepping closer to Dante. “I’m proud to be your brother. And so are the rest of us. And just know that while you’re out there, taking down those assholes trying to do our home harm, you’ll be in our prayers.” Dante returned the smile, finishing with filling the bucket with honey before standing back up. “Thank you, Gael. That means a lot to me.” “But be sure to get a little exercise and eating in before you do any big stuff, aye? Can’t have you getting swept up in any strong winds.” Gael teased, Dante snickering, shaking his head and turning away from his brother. “I’ll be sure to wear some heavy boots, brother.” “Good.” Dante went to walk out of the barnhouse, Gael stopping to pick up the bucket, carrying it with him as he followed Dante out of the barn. “You heading to bed, then?” “No, I’m going to see Unshei and them first.” Dante answered, Gael chuckling, nudging Dante with his elbow. “Ooh, gonna go see your amia girlfriend, huh?” “Oh, be quiet. She’s only a friend.” Dante replied, Gael shrugging his shoulders, giving Dante a final farewell before the two parted.

  Mist formed from the river above the rocky bed, forming a gentle, bluish haze that slowly formed around the tents that housed the amians living in the vilge. The guards at the front paid little mind to the familiar tovron face, Dante giving the amians both a wave as he walked past them. It was a steady, calm walk in the riverside vilge, the smell of cooking fish and water spraying giving a strong aroma in the air. Before Dante could react, the woman he was looking for came running around from a corner, spreading her arms out as she dashed towards him. Unshei was easily recognized as an Amia woman, her green, seaweed-like hair falling around the fins on the sides of her head, both this and her blue scaled skin glistening with the water she was previously in. Her wide, completely bck eyes fixed onto Dante as she took him into a brief hug. “Dante!” She chirped, Dante chuckling, slowly prying himself from her grasp as Unshei curiously ran her fingers across his cleric amulet. “Oh my forces, you have a shiny amulet! And a new outfit! And… uuf, you’ve got scars all over you… were you ambushed on the way here?” Dante shook his head, smiling warmly as he raised a hand up, revealing the glowing red sigil on his palm. “No, haha… I’m a cleric now! The scars can be healed away, but the spells I learned, they’re to stay.” His excitement about it was adorable to her, a wide smile on the woman’s face as she took Dante’s hand and led him into the vilge. “Madroz should see this… think he might have a mission for ya. Apparently some hunters got hurt by some wildlife. Maybe you can practice your new skills on them?” Dante nodded in response. Their venture throughout the tribe led them to the rgest tent in the vilge, a bigger, rotund Amia exiting it and standing before them. He was dressed in robes with various shells and crystals tied along it, them bouncing in pce as he walked towards Dante, looking the d up and down with his completely bck eyes. An anxious minute passed as the both of them stared at one another, Unshei scurrying off for a moment while the chieftain began to speak. “Hm. You have grown since we st met, young tovron. I see you have recently become a mage of healing, with the scars on your body to prove.” “Indeed. Unshei had informed me that some of your hunters were injured recently. Would it be alright if I helped?” The chieftain ughed out a bit, pulling up his weaved dress as he led the both of them to a more poputed looking tent. “Always eager to help, even those you do not know.” Dante nodded, a wide smile on his face while he waited for Madroz’ verdict. “That sort of attitude is very rare in this world… very well. I shall allow you to practice your new craft.” Entering the tent revealed several men ying on thick wool cots, each of varying degrees of injury upon their warpaint-covered bodies. Quickly making way over to them, Dante knelt beside one with a deeper looking cut, him taking out a rag and vial of water, cleaning out the wound before casting Remedium. A connection of light came out from his sigil-covered palm while he rubbed it along the hunter's wound, restoring it back into scale and skin the further he went. After only a brief moment, the bleeding stopped, and the hunter was back into fighting condition, thanking the cleric before walking back out of the tent. Each person only required Sigillum or Remedium, and it wouldn’t be long before Dante managed to heal each person that was once housed in the infirmary tent. The chieftain stood and watched the cleric work, greeting Dante with a humble nod as finished up. “My sincere gratitude, young tovron. Your work here will not be forgotten. If there is ever anything you could possibly need from this vilge of mine, do not fret from asking me.” Dante simply gave a short bow, packing his equipment back into his bag. “Actually… I was wondering. I remember Unshei telling me about how Amia tribes weren’t usually welcoming to outsiders. Is there some sort of way I can prove I’m a friend?” The chieftain thought for a moment, before digging through one of the pouches on his dress. He took out a smaller-looking ring and presented it before Dante. This humble-looking blue-colored band had nothing but some weathered gems and a foreign-looking shell on it. “Not every tribe is the same. But many will admit you if you wear this ring. But care much not to lose it, it holds much value in both thrones, and spirit.” Dante nodded, gently taking the ring sliding it onto his index finger, a slight shiver running up his arm from the cool metal pressing down onto his skin. “Wow. Thank you very much, chieftain. I have a pretty long journey ahead of me, but I’ll try and come back and visit when I can.” “I look forward to that. And I’m sure Unshei does, as well. Farewell, my friend."

  The next day, Dante found himself back in Mauyonne, a fair distance from his home. He wasn’t here for any sort of schooling or training. He was sitting on the edge of an empty wagon, waiting for his partner for his first official mission. Sellswords and bought protection alike were running around with those they escorted, affording not even the time to catch their breath. Dante, though, felt he had plenty of time to rex, leaning back onto the wood whilst rather snug in the issued Cleric battle outfit. It was a white robe tightened by a rope tied around his waist, and some steel pte over his shoulders and chest. This white robe had its shoulders connected via buttons capable of being opened, significantly widening the colr to allow the clothing to be more easily put on by those with horns such as Dante’s. It had room for the scabbard of a cheap-looking dagger he quickly bought from a passing merchant, as well as an empty sheathe normally meant for a spell tome, but instead only having Dante’s personal journal housed inside of it. While Dante waited, he briefed himself through his spells again, going through his journal and silently recounting them. He was stopped when he felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to see a taller woman standing next to him, an axe sheathed along her hip and a roundshield strapped on her forearm, and a short, stout scaled tail ying stiff behind her. “Are you Dante Pildel?” She asked with a neutral expression, Dante hopping off the wagon while he answered. “I am. Are you… er, sorry, the bodyguard I was assigned?” “Yes. I’m Ireishil Bhehle. Stand closer to the entrance of the city next time. It would be easier to find you.” “Oh, right, haha. Sorry.” Dante was fairly familiar with Arterians, and Ireishil refreshed his memory from his childhood schooling; a race of reptile-like, cold-blooded people who typically lived in warmer climates to suit their biology. They were often colored in scales that came in many colors, though Ireishil’s green scales were barely noticeable over her paler green skin. Dante could only notice the shimmering scales along her arms, the rest blended into her skin almost perfectly. Ireishil was much taller than him, having nearly a foot of height on him while also having a muscur frame not too far off from his older, more physically active sisters. The Korr city they were assigned to wasn’t too far away, with Dante becoming increasingly nervous about having his first mission be for a culture that he found rather rowdy. He never learned much about them, but everything he heard is always reted to their culture of fighting. “Say… Ireishil? Have you done missions with Korrs before?” Dante asked, Ireishil looking over at him, her deep, yellow eyes piercing into him. “I have.” Dante sat for a moment, expecting Ireishil to expin further, only for her to not speak another word. He let out an awkward chuckle, clearing his throat before talking. “Is there, er, anything I should know?” “They desire fighting. But they will not fight you if you are not open for one. Usually.” Appreciating the advice, Dante nodded while he went back to staring down the path, their travel to the Korr city rather short. They were just another half a mile away from the city, but he could already hear what sounded like drums and shouting. “Are those the korrs?” “Is this your first time seeing a Korr city?” She asked, him nodding in response, prompting Ireishil to expin further. “Part of a korr’s reproduction is physically fighting. Injuries on their bodies spread spores from which new korrs grow.” Now near the entrance of the city, over the hill farthest from them was another rge gathering of korrs, their deep purple-colored bodies cluttered together as their tusks shined in the daylight. Many of these korrs were armed, waving their swords, clubs, and spears around while facing off the more heavily armored guardsmen awaiting them further in the city. “Wait, are we in the middle of some sort of revolt? Is someone as new as me really qualified for this..?” She shook her head, helping him up onto the stairs leading through the gates of the city’s entrance, Dante flinching from the sounds of metallic weapons cnging together. “No. This is known as a ‘Risin’. It’s a sport Korr settlements commonly engage in.” “A sport where they try to coup a city?” Ireishil shrugged, hoping the lord would expin it to him while the two marched along the stone pathway leading to the throne room housing the vilge’s lord. While the two walked, Dante looked around at his surroundings, noticing rge clumps of a purple, fungus-like material which smaller korrs popped out of. Though the recently born korrs were naked, they didn’t quite have anything that needed to be covered, their masculine purple bodies barren of any genitalia or nipples. Trying to ignore all the asexual reproduction happening around him, Dante walked into the throne room alongside Ireishil, wincing and stepping back when a brick fell in front of him as the doors pushed open. A giant Korr id upon a partly carved boulder, their big, uncovered stomach pointed towards the two Guild mercenaries as they got on their feet, waddling over to introduce themself. As Dante inspected the room from within, he felt as though the title of throne room was not quite earned. There was trash everywhere, the pilrs and statues that weren’t id broken on the floor looking as though they were an accident away from falling over, and the throne itself being nothing more than a carved boulder with some profanities painted onto it. “Ah! G’day, the both of yas. Name’s Urg, and I’m guessin’ ya two are from da Guild, ain’t I right?” Dante bowed before him, waving his hand as he went to return the greeting. “...alright. Good day, Urg. I’m Dante, and my colleague here is Ireishil. I’m the cleric you ordered from Mauyonne. What do you need assistance with today?” Urg ughed out, smming his fist against a nearby support beam as he rolled back a bit. “Haha, you’s real cute for a horn-head, you are!” Urg procimed, Dante awkwardly chuckling, rubbing the back of his head while Urg spoke again. “Ya dun need tae be so formal with me, I know what yer ‘ere for. I needed one dem newer healers to help clean up da Risin’ once it’s done wiff. Ya can just stand ‘round till its done, less yer tryna get stuck in like da rest of us!” Dante worked up the nerve to speak for a moment, before taking a careful step forward, Urg eyeing Dante as the tovron spoke up. “Say… I never quite figured out what a Risin really was. Is it a… fake revolution, or something of that sort? I’m confused, sorry.” “Dinnae be sorry, nun da outsiders get why we korrs do it. A Risin’ is just when some us korrs go act like some rebels, and da rest of us sit ‘ere n defend da city, and we fight all between. Simple as.” It took a moment for Dante to process what was just told to him. Figuring it to be some sort of sport, Dante chose to try and decipher Urg’s speech no further, instead drawing in a sharp breath before speaking. “Understood. Me and my colleague here, we’re, er… not exactly looking for a fight at the moment. Is there any sort of neutral area, one where the injured will be taken, and the fighting will stop?” Urg pointed over to a nearby corridor, a smaller Korr standing in front of them waiting to lead them. “All da ones gettin’ hurt will go in there. But dat won’t be for a while, dis sorta fing is gonna take all day. Yer gonna love it, just look out da window! It’s ‘ready started probably.” Wide-eyed, Dante quickly ran over to the window, seeing an incomprehensibly rge crowd of Korrs just under the stairs, them using whatever objects they could get a hold of to bludgeon and ssh one another. A more nimble one quickly ran up the stairs, a bck banner wrapped around their stomach as they charged into the throne room. “Oi! Urg! I’m here tae kick you off yer fancy throne!” They yelled out, Urg giggling as he lifted a broken pilr off the floor with both of his hands, bringing it up and smming it into the unfortunate rebel, the smaller korr going limp as they were crumpled into the earth. They remained stuck in the ground after Urg lifted the pilr, earning a great deal of boisterous ughter from the rger korr, him patting his rotund stomach while leaning back in his throne. Dante looked at the scene somewhat horrified, not quite sure if he wanted to go help, remaining stuck in hesitation while staring at the crippled korr. Before he could make a decision, another group of bck garb wearing korrs charged in, cshing their weapons against the korr guardsmen. Ireishil quickly got in front of Dante, raising her roundshield and axe as the fighting rapidly grew closer to where they were standing. Urg could be seen cackling in the middle of it, holding two different pilrs with both of his hands while he swung wildly in the epicenter of the growing mass of Korrs. Dante looked over Ireishil’s shoulder, chuckling awkwardly while he watched the pyful sughter in awe. “Are… are they okay?” He asked, Ireishil shrugging while she walked into the corridor, Dante hesitantly following her.

  What felt like hours passed by as Dante stood as the sole cleric in the infirmary room, quickly running between injured korrs and sending them back out, feeling more confident as some complimented his speed before leaving. Healing the korrs was different from healing other humanoids, though not necessarily in a more difficult way. Korrs are much more resilient and seemed to generally bleed less, their darkened, bck-colored blood only staining Dante’s rags very slightly as he cleaned their wounds and disposed of the dirtied fabrics. The compliments and the visible efficiency of his work left Dante feeling invigorated, not quite noticing the growing pain in his head as he continuously used his spells. Ireishil stood idle beside wherever he worked, watching him flip between his pages to remedy broken limbs, excessive bleeding, or any mix of the two. “Hmm. You look as if you have done this before.” Ireishil commented, Dante nodding as he finished up casting Sensum on a korr’s dislocated leg. “Yes… I did get a little bit of practice before all this, I suppose.” As the bodies continued piling up, Dante found himself beginning to sweat, wiping at his brow as his arms grew tired from what seemed like an hour of work. Looking back at the door, he exhaled deeply upon the sight of the traffic of injured korrs decreasing. Once the next batch of bodies came in, Dante kneeled back down beside the ft piece of stone, bringing his sigil-covered palm against a body another korr slid in front of him. “My forces… is all healer work this demanding?” Dante asked, looking over at Ireishil and receiving a shrug in response.

  Urg met them cpping, back to be plopped on the middle of his throne while he leaned forward towards them. “Dats a good ‘un! Dey taught you good in dem schools, dey did.” “Thank you. So… did you already pay the guild, or..?” Urg leaned back, rummaging through some sacks behind his throne. “Right, right… here’s yer bits.” Reaching forward, Urg rummaged through a pot next to his throne, a bit of bck blood spttered along its metallic frame. “It’s… 200 hundred for the cleric, 50 for the merc…” Urg muttered under his breath, before handing two 100-denomination throne coins to Dante, then two 25 throne coins to Ireishil. “There ye go.” “Thank you.” Dante said, pcing one of the coins in his pouch, then holding out the other to Ireishil. She raised her eyebrow at him, looking between Dante’s face and the coin in his hand. “What?” “I know I’m meant to be paid more, but… I think it’s only fair if we split our earnings evenly.” Ireishil snorted. “I don’t need your pity.” “O - Oh, I’m not…” Dante trailed off as Ireishil eyed him, the arterian exhaling sharply as she turned away from Dante. It was an awkward couple of minutes while the two left the throne room and headed out of the city, the sounds of construction already under way as the korr citizens cleaned up after their violent festivities. “...well then. It was very nice working with you. Will you be avaible again soon?” “I will work again when you get your next assignment.” “Oh, okay - huh?” He stared up at her, her face unmoving while her braided hair swept around her eyes. “Are we… permanent partners?” “Yes. I am assigned to assist you until told otherwise.” Nodding, he continued following her down the road back to Mauyonne, his new pce of residence being a room inside of a rge inn-looking building that was just around the entrance.

  Dressed in his bed clothes, he sat at the foot of his bed as his sleeveless tunic revealed the many injuries he sustained learning his spells, the most notable being the still-glimmering red sigil from his hand. He was still surprised that such a process was so short, though he figured that such speed and efficiency was warranted for the thousands of thrones he spent getting his education. Leaning back into his bedsheets, he spread out along the cushioned bedspread, liking how it had a simir quality to the one back home. “Home.” Even though it’s been hardly a couple days, to him it felt like months. His family likely missed as much, if not more than the hollow sense of longing that slowly ate away at his heart. A slight sense of regret began to brew in his stomach, but Dante chose to ignore this, instead shutting his eyes and letting the sounds of the night city echoing softly through the open window lull him to sleep.

  He awakened to what sounded like someone walking around his bed, quickly sitting up and throwing his sheets off of him. “Hey!” He yelled out, quickly rummaging for his dagger before a familiar female voice responded. “Calm down. It’s me.” Ireishil said from the darkness, Dante deeply inhaling as he went back into his covers. “By the forces… you frightened me, you must tell me before you come into my room at this time of night.” “Okay. Do know that this city, while it houses many mercenaries, is still very safe. It is unlikely either of us will be robbed in our sleep.” “Yes… well, r - regardless, I’m going to bed. Good night.” Ireishil id upon her own bed, putting her equipment on the side of her bed as she was too ready to go to bed.