There I stood in front of the Silver Helmets' base in Academy Town, squinting as the afternoon sun reflected off the old granite walls. The order’s militaristic focus was obvious in every aspect of this miniature fortress. From its iron-reinforced oak gate, tall enough to accommodate a hay wagon, to a couple of square guard towers that stood on either side of the entrance, topped with battlements. There, I noticed a sentry pacing around. While formidable, the keep didn’t tower over neighboring buildings. In fact, it almost seemed to try to conceal its presence.
I figured the compound could hold about a hundred people, though it would be a tight fit. The order had several keeps like this across the Morne Isles. The timeworn tomes I’d referenced at the Academy stated they specialized in protecting other holy orders as well as weary pilgrims on risky journeys. During the Ashen War, their shields held firm against invaders. Silver helmets struck fear into imperial troops during the chaos. Now that I think about it, though, they never wore those helmets when they visited the Academy.
I knocked hard on the smaller side door, noticing the iron hinges shift a little from years of use. After three knocks, the echoes faded, and the door creaked open. A tall man in polished silver chainmail stood there, the metal softly clinking as he moved. He looked at me quietly, his young face serious and his eyes sharp. One hand rested on his sword’s pommel, his posture alert, silently demanding an explanation.
I cleared my throat, masking my nerves. “Zar. Academy student." My hand hovered over my insignia. Clearly, brevity was respected here. "I’m here at Captain d’Orgremont’s open invitation. Is she available?”
The young guard nodded once, a sharp military gesture. I was right on the money. Relief flickered through me, easing some of my nerves. He stepped back and motioned me inside. As I strolled through the threshold, the inner courtyard opened before me like a miniature village. In the center, a packed-earth training ground took up most of the space, where six men sparred with blunt weapons. Their grunts and the sound of steel filled the air, making my excitement surge again.
To my right, smoke looped from an open kitchen. A cook stirred an enormous copper pot. The yard filled with the scent of rosemary and garlic. To my left stood a small stable. The keep’s walls, at least three men thick, were honeycombed with chambers. In some ways, the structure reminded me of those motels you could find around highways from my past life. Tiny windows and numerous doorways were visible at various levels, connected by narrow wooden staircases that zigzagged upward.
We ventured forward across the sun-baked courtyard, my clawed feet crunching on the gravel as we approached an archery range where two knights drew their longbows with practiced precision. Hay bales lined the far wall, each punctured with dozens of arrows forming concentric patterns around faded bullseyes.
My escort stopped abruptly and raised his gauntleted hand to signal me to stop. He turned to the archers and called, "Brother Albert, Brother Hue." His voice carried over the sound of arrows hitting their targets. He pointed at me. "Watch the lad while I get the Captain." Then, without waiting for an answer, he went up the stairs and into the keep.
"No problem," the taller knight responded, lowering his bow and wiping a sheen of sweat from his tanned forehead with his forearm. His chainmail made a soft sound as he turned to look at me, his eyes curious. "Hey, kid, you must be a theology student at the Academy, right? But your shoulders look too wide for someone who spends all day around books. Are you taking the knight course as well?"
“That is right,” I nodded, straightening my posture instinctively under his appraising gaze. “Also pursuing the magic course.”
Hue’s sun-worn face broke into a grin, deep laugh lines showing around his eyes. "Well, color me impressed, and you’re a wolfkin to boot. Rare sight in the Church." He held out a calloused hand, silver rings infused with mana on three fingers. "Not unwelcomed, mind you. My name is Hue, nice to meet you."
Another member of the order stepped out from the shadows of the archery stand. He had a jagged scar running from his left temple to the corner of his mouth, making it look like he was always half-smiling. "I’m Albert," he said in a rough voice, leaning on his longbow. "Say, your people hunt with spears, right? Can you show us how you throw one?" His eyes gleamed with genuine curiosity as he gestured toward the rack of practice weapons.
So they want me to demonstrate my strength. A mischievous thought occurred to me, and I could barely contain a grin at the prospect of surprising them. I cocked my head with theatrical flair. “Do you want me to show you how wolfkin do it, or how I do it?”
"Is there a difference?" Albert asked, brow furrowing as his scar twisted.
“Very much so,” I said, letting a smirk show the tip of one sharp canine. I walked across the packed earth to the archery training area, feeling the warmth seeping through my clawed feet. At the weapon rack, I grabbed a practice spear. The oak shaft felt right in my hand, smooth from years of use. The iron head was nicked but still shone in the sunlight.
I tested the spear’s weight, rolling it in my palm before gripping it tight. My shoulders tensed and released as I rolled them. I stretched my back. With a fluid motion, honed by countless hours of practice at the Academy and in the Sleeping Valley, I hurled the spear. It traced a perfect arc against the blue sky and thudded into the straw target with a satisfying sound. Not dead center, perhaps two finger-widths to the left, but close enough to make my point. “This is how wolfkin do it.”
“Not bad, kid, and I can see from your stance that you can throw it while moving with the same strength. You didn’t have to shift your weight that much…” Albert mumbled something to himself, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
"And how is it different from ‘your way’ of throwing spears?" Hue pressed, narrowing his eyes with interest beneath his sweat-dampened brow.
A wolfish grin spread across my face, showing both my canines. “Glad you asked,” I said. “I’ve been working on this particular technique for the past month.” I flexed my clawed fingers and reached for another spear. “Let me show you.”
I checked the new spear in my palms and knelt on the sun-warmed earth. Closing my eyes, I chanted a prayer, my voice faintly a whisper: “My Lord Jeromson, lend me your strength, infuse my humble vessel with but a fraction of thy divine might…” I was careful not to audibly pronounce the name of the God of Order, only spelling it with my lips while saying it in my head instead, a necessary precaution in a world with people possessing superhuman hearing.
Before I even finished my prayer, warmth flooded my veins like liquid fire, spreading from my chest outward to my fingertips. My muscles coiled tight, trembling with newfound energy that made my fur stand on end. Every time I did this, it felt like drinking lightning, exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
Though I could not uproot trees or bend iron bars, the blessing gave me the strength of an adult dwarf miner. I wrapped my hand around the spear, which felt like a willow stick in my grip. With deliberate focus, I turned my attention to the mana in my silver ring. The familiar tingle spread through my fingers as I channeled energy through the cool metal. In addition to the usual wind gust spell, I’d been training mana contained inside to do a new trick. The knights' eyes never left me. This was my moment to shine.
I took a deep breath, tasting the dust and sweat of the training yard. Timing was everything. As I launched the spear forward, my arm a blur of russet fur and rippling muscle underneath, I whispered the spell with perfect clarity, “[Air Hammer.]” The words had barely left my mouth when a concussive wave of pressurized air exploded from my fist with a thunderous sound, driving the spear forward like a hammer hitting a nail.
The spear sliced through the air with a wild, high-pitched sound, powered by both my enhanced strength and the blast of magic. It hit the hay target dead center and didn’t slow down, tearing through the straw with a ripping sound. The iron tip burst out the back and slammed into the stone wall, sending chips of granite flying in all directions.
Cracks spread across the old stone as the spear shaft shook, humming like a tuning fork. I couldn’t help but grin, showing all my sharp teeth. This was the perfect fusion of muscle, divine blessing, and magic, the culmination of countless hours, no, years of training, finally combined in one truly fantasy-level technique. I worked hard on this, and it felt amazing to pull it off without a hitch.
Albert’s jaw hung slack, his scar stretching as his mouth formed a perfect circle. "Holy blue," he breathed, voice scarcely audible over the settling dust and pebbles still tinkling down from the cracked wall.
Hue’s weathered face split into an expression of pure admiration, eyes wide beneath sweat-beaded brows. “And that was just a regular iron spear,” he said, gesturing toward the trembling shaft with calloused fingers. “If it were mythril, you could probably pierce a wyvern’s armored hide from here. Amazing, kid!”
I felt a surge of pride at their reactions. “That’s the idea,” I said, my ears forward and tail swishing with excitement. “I’m working toward a Slayer specialization, so I needed to get better at ranged combat to tackle certain monsters in the future.” I flexed my clawed fingers, still tingling with leftover divine energy. “Combining blessing and magic gives me a huge boost, but it takes time to set up,” I admitted.
“Very impressive, Zar.” I looked up and saw Captain Gila d’Orgremont leaning on the old oak banister. Sunlight reflected from a narrow window behind her, illuminating her polished silver breastplate, creating an almost haloed effect. Her face showed a slight frown, and my ears flattened a bit. “Come upstairs, we’ll talk.” Was she mad about the wall? My tail drooped as I wondered if I should offer to fix the cracked granite stone.
These worries ran through my mind as I climbed the creaky wooden stairs and followed her into her quarters. The room smelled of weapon oil, old paper, and dried herbs hanging from the beams. Her space was simple but practical, spotting a sturdy oak desk covered with maps and reports, tall bookshelves full of leather-bound tomes, and a narrow bed at the back. What really drew my eye were the trophies: a serrated talon longer than my arm, the crystal eye of some huge beast I didn’t recognize, and the preserved head of some giant lizard with jaws big enough to snap a man in half.
“Want some tea, kid?” she asked, setting a battered copper kettle on a stone disk covered in runes. The device started to hum with a soft blue light, and steam rose from the spout right away.
“Thank you, yes, please.” I nodded and sat on the worn oak chair by her desk, making sure my tail didn’t knock over the pile of parchments near my feet. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you called Silver Helmets? I never saw you wear any, not even back at the Academy last year.”
“I get why you’re confused.” She poured the tea into two chipped mugs with the faded symbol of the God of Order’s shield. “We only wear them in battle, and mostly out of shame…”
“Shame?” I asked, my ears perking forward in surprise, whiskers twitching at the unexpected answer.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “When our faces are so covered in blood that only the whites of our eyes are clean, our God stops recognizing us. So we wear the silver helms in battle to hide from his divine gaze.” She glanced at her own helmet displayed on the shelf behind her. "At least, that’s what our order’s tradition and history dictate.”
A cold sensation crawled down my spine, making my fur bristle. “That is… grim.”
“Warfare is grim, but someone has to do it.” She slid my steaming cup across the desk, the fragrant mountain herbs releasing tendrils of vapor that curled between us like spirits. She settled into her creaking chair. “The Mercenary Guild provides their services to those with enough coin to pay. We offer ours to those whose prayers reach us. The Church comes first, naturally, but we won’t turn away followers of the Temple or even those who worship the Chaos Goddess if innocent lives are at risk.”
“That is good to hear,” I replied, wrapping my clawed fingers around the warm cup.
Captain Gila drummed her calloused fingers on her mug, steam curling around her scarred knuckles. “I hate to say this,” she sighed, the lines around her amber eyes deepening. “Especially after that wall-shattering display downstairs. By God’s oath, I’d almost beg you to join us right now, but…”
My ears twitched forward. “But?”
She leaned forward, her armor plates making a soft metallic sound. “I owe a certain Cardinal, a white-haired old fox who’s more cunning than any royal court, a favor bigger than a wyvern’s appetite. He’s already claimed you for recruitment.”
“Claimed me?” My whiskers bristled. “Not sure I admire being objectified like some prize hare at a market…”
“Don’t get me wrong.” She raised her calloused hand. “You can still join us if you want, but I’d like you to talk to him first. If you don’t like his offer, you’re welcome here.” She took a long sip, watching me closely. “No matter what you decide, you’re always invited to train here. The Academy is good for that, but with your wolfkin strength, you should start sparring with adults instead of kids.”
I understood what she meant. In our second year, we’d progressed to sparring together with third years, yet my accelerated growth meant there were very few students in the knight course who could match my strength now. Some were faster, sure, and even more talented than I was, but the lack of raw power among the teenage students I was sparring with stunted my own development.
“Thank you for the offer,” I said, my tail swishing against the chair legs as I thought. “I might take you up on it. So who is this mysterious Cardinal, and what order does he lead?”
“His name is Cardinal Xaden d’Alle. He leads the Order of Crimson Wayfarers.”
“Never heard of it,” I admitted, my ears twitching with curiosity. “Is it a new order?”
Her eyes seemed to darken as she looked off into the distance. “Yes and no.” She took a sip, the steam hiding her expression for a moment. “The order was reformed right after the Ashen War when Cardinal Xaden took charge. Their history is… complicated, to say the least.” She set her cup down carefully. “You probably know them by another name…” She traced a shield symbol in the air. “The First Inquisitor Order.”
Saying that the First Inquisitor Order had a muddy history would be putting it mildly. Their crimson-robed figures haunted the nightmares of common folk long before the Ashen War, dragging ‘heretics’ from their beds while neighbors shuttered their windows. Their fortresses, built on cliffsides with dungeons carved deep into living rock, echoed with screams that sailors claimed could be heard a fair distance away offshore.
During the War, however, they transformed from feared to reviled. In the coastal city of Oudport, they hanged merchants for trading grain with Imperial territories. They burned an entire village to ash when a single Imperial spy was rumored to be hiding there. They captured a daughter of an Imperial Archduke, eight months pregnant, and kept her in a lightless cell until she revealed her husband’s secrets. The child was born dead. Their cruelty was notorious in every major city across the Morne Isles and even reached the Eastern Continent.
I’d never heard that the First Inquisitor Order had rebranded itself as the Crimson Wayfarers, and I doubted an organization with such blood-soaked roots could truly transform in just one generation. My tail swished nervously as I raised my paw to knock on the heavy red door in front of me. I’d hear what this Cardinal had to say, then likely make my excuses and return to Captain Gila’s offer. The Silver Helmets might be battle-hungry brutes, but at least their purpose was clear: protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. That was something I could stand behind.
I waited for a whole minute before I could finally hear a series of metallic clicks followed by the scrape of a heavy bolt. The door swung open to reveal a rabbitfolk girl wearing crimson robes embroidered with golden thread that caught the light outside. Her fur was completely black as midnight velvet, though I suspected under direct sunlight it would reveal itself as rich dark brown with subtle auburn undertones.
Her eyes, startlingly light blue, sparkled with a liveliness that contrasted sharply with the somber reputation of her order. Her long ears, each adorned with several small golden cuffs at the base, twitched involuntarily at the sight of me, that instinctive reaction all rabbitfolk had when confronted with wolfkin. Neither of us acknowledged it, following the unspoken etiquette between our kinds.
“What’s up?” she chirped with unexpected casualness, her melodic voice bright as morning bells. The informal greeting hung in the air between us, so at odds with her ceremonial attire that I found myself momentarily speechless.
“Eeeh, hello,” I managed, my claws fidgeting slightly against my leather belt. “I am Zar. I was invited to speak with the Cardinal regarding possible recruitment to the Order.”
“Zar?” Her whiskers twitched with recognition. “Ah, the kid graced by the new deity. Fascinating.” She circled me once, her gaze traveling from my pricked ears to my clawed feet, lingering on my enchanted silver bracelet for a moment. “Well, come on in. I will let His Eminence know you are here.”
The atmosphere inside struck me as unexpectedly cozy, almost homely. Rich mahogany floorboards, worn smooth by decades of footsteps, stretched toward a grand staircase that spiraled elegantly to the second floor. Deep burgundy walls, the color of aged wine, were adorned with ornate gilded frames housing yellowed maps with sea monsters lurking in their corners and stern-faced historical figures. The scent of old parchment and beeswax candles hung in the air. Half a dozen doors punctuated the walls, one standing ajar to reveal glimpses of a large library full to the brim with ancient tomes and scrolls.
The rabbitfolk priestess asked me to wait, her powerful hind legs propelling her upstairs with a grace that belied her casual demeanor. She returned moments later, ears bobbing with each nimble hop, and beckoned me to join her. I followed her up the stairs and down a corridor lined with paintings depicting ancient battles to an office where Cardinal Xaden d'Alle awaited.
He sat behind an imposing desk of dark oak, its surface cluttered with scrolls and strange brass instruments. Despite Captain Gila’s description of him as a ‘white-haired old fox’, he appeared surprisingly vigorous, even youthful. His silver hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, was his only concession to age. He wore the same crimson robes as my guide. His hands, pale and unmarked by labor, were adorned with no fewer than seven golden rings, each bearing gems that pulsed with barely contained mana.
He gestured toward a high-backed chair upholstered in worn crimson velvet, its wooden arms polished to a gleam by countless nervous hands before mine. “You know,” he said, leaning forward so the golden pendants hanging from his neck clinked softly against the desk’s edge, “I’ve received more reports about your activities in the last two years than about King Leonel of Choguex. What do you make of that?”
I settled into the chair, my tail curling instinctively around one leg. “Hmm,” I replied, ears flicking thoughtfully, “perhaps that King Leonel is exceptionally lazy?”
The Cardinal’s lips twitched into a half-smile, “You… you are not wrong,” he nodded. “Anyway, you possess an extremely rare combination of skills. You’ve received a noble education, yet you are not of noble birth and hence not restricted in your actions. Your claws are equally adept at casting spells as they are at wielding steel.” His greenish blue eyes narrowed, studying me as one might examine a rare artifact. “For a wolfkin not yet eight winters old, you are frankly ridiculous.” The Cardinal’s voice dropped to a silky murmur. “More importantly, you are building connections across all social classes at the Academy, and you have strong ties with Choguex and Veridian royalty.”
My ears flicked forward with interest. “What about Sonem? I hear Prince Thomin is quite the admirer.”
The Cardinal’s face darkened like a storm cloud. “The biggest,” he groaned, leaning back as his chair creaked beneath him. “He watches you with the same… appreciation… as a starving wolf eyes a plump rabbit.” His fingers formed a steeple beneath his chin. “If it wasn’t clear, you are the rabbit in that metaphor. But I speak of connections that you might leverage for the Order’s benefit.”
“And why would I do that?” I asked, my claws clicking against the armrest as my ears flattened slightly against my skull.
“To help me save three kingdoms.” The Cardinal’s voice dropped to a whisper, his rings glinting as he spread his hands across the map of the Morne Isles on his desk, marked with ominous crimson circles.
“Pardon me?” My tail bristled involuntarily, the fur along my spine rising as the weight of his words settled in.
“I am not going to reveal all our secrets before you commit,” he said. “And even after, we treat information compartmentalization quite seriously here. Suffice it to say that what I am doing will determine whether thousands live or die.” His eyes gleamed with fervent intensity as he slid a sealed parchment across the polished surface.
“If you join my order, this scroll will be the first of many revelations. You have another two years at the Academy, regardless, so until then, you’ll serve as my eyes and ears from within those hallowed halls. You’ll begin with the rank of page,” he traced a finger along the map’s coastline. “Upon graduation, you’ll be elevated to friar, a fully ordained traveling priest of our Order, bearing both our protection and our burdens.”
My claws dug slightly into the velvet armrests. “Your Order carries many burdens, Cardinal, including quite a bloody history. Might I inquire how different you are after this supposed reform?”
“Absolutely. In the past, our Order focused on a single mission: eliminating practitioners of occult magic in the Morne Isles. We hunted them across every kingdom and city-state, from the misty swamps of Choguex to the frozen mountains atop the Dwarven undercity.”
My chest tightened at his words, a cold knot forming between my ribs. I traced one claw over familiar patterns of my silver bracelet, drawing comfort from the soul protection magic stored within. The Cardinal’s piercing eyes missed nothing, lingering on my nervous gesture before returning to my face. It was news to me that their definition of ‘heretics’ meant those who dabbled with miasma, that corrupting force that could unmake a soul. In this world where worshipping any or all divine beings was commonplace, that particular definition was much more comprehensible than the alternative I was used to. However, did I want to pursue such people regularly? Could I overcome my fears by facing them?
“Unfortunately,” he continued, while I was still processing what he said, “corruption festered in the Order before I took over. Some priests abused their power, stepping so low as to act as hired killers. Others lost all reason during the Ashen War.” His eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to slits. “Mind you, we are not shy of using some underhanded tools, like bribery and blackmail, but war crimes are something I will not permit again while I am the Cardinal.”
“That is good to hear, and for the record, even if I join, I will absolutely disobey any order from you that would require killing the innocent, even for the so-called greater good.”
“Noted.” A thin smile crossed his face as he gestured toward the window. “We abandoned two of our three fortresses, crumbling stone monuments to our past sins. That’s how many members were purged when the Order reformed.” He folded his hands, the seven rings glinting like predators' eyes. “We are focused on quality over quantity these days. Your… moral fortitude will not be an issue.”
My gaze lingered on the sealed parchment resting between us. The wax seal gleamed in the lamplight, practically taunting me. My tail twitched with barely contained curiosity. “You mentioned hunting heretics was your Order’s past. What exactly occupies your time now?”
“We still investigate occult practices,” he replied. “But now we partner with the Silver Helmets and other martial orders. We identify the practitioners, and they handle the apprehension whenever possible. This ensures proper oversight.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “But our primary mission has evolved. These days, we focus on thwarting Imperial agents throughout the Morne Isles.”
I traced a claw along the edge of the armrest. “Well, that makes sense, given that Empire is no stranger to occult magic. I hear thousands of dissidents were captured and their souls destroyed.”
Cardinal’s silver-flecked eyebrow arched high in surprise. “I am impressed you know this. I doubt even Professor Orlov would discuss something like this openly. Most assume the Empire abandoned magic completely a long time ago.”
“I have my sources,” I said, thinking of Darya, poor girl from the Empire whose sister’s soul was destroyed. That thought gave me the chills every time I was thinking about it. If I am to actively pursue scum of the earth like those cutists, I ought to ask Professor Irleophiss to double my studying time with him, occult magic is no joke. With that said, it almost seems like faith that I was specifically brought to this Order in particular. I wonder which deity is manipulating events behind the veil and to what end, or did Jerome put me on this path from day one?
“Well, I genuinely hope you will share them in the future. And now we arrive at the crossroads. What say you about joining us?” Cardinal asked me.
My tail swished behind me as I considered. “When I walked in here, I was prepared to reject anything you offered. Your Order’s bloody past…” I traced the silver bracelet at my wrist. “But I find myself… drawn to your cause. This isn’t a small matter, though. It would reshape my entire future. I need time to weigh what you’ve told me. A few days, perhaps?”
The Cardinal’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Take it,” he said, tapping one ringed finger against the sealed parchment. “Whether you join us or not, you having this information serves our purpose. Though I suspect once you’ve read it, your decision will become… clearer.”
My whiskers twitched with suspicion as I plucked the envelope from his desk. “How generous. Not a signing bonus after all, but bait for your trap.” I broke the wax seal with my claw and unfolded the document. "If that’s your strategy, perhaps you should consider…” The words died in my throat. My paws began to shake as my eyes darted across the page. Heat rose from my collar to the tips of my ears as each sentence ignited another spark of rage.
My claws punctured the parchment as I read, leaving tiny crescent marks along its edges. “Why would they do something like this?” I hissed, fur bristling along my spine. “What kind of twisted family does this to their own flesh and blood?”
“That is for you to uncover, young one. The Second Princess, your friend, carries potential that could reshape her kingdom’s future.” His silver-flecked eyes narrowed. “Consider this, how do you put it, a ‘signing bonus’ and your first assignment on behalf of the Order. Save Princess Luciana.”
“You play exceptionally dirty,” I growled, my tail lashing against the velvet chair. The fur along my spine stood on end as determination hardened like cooling metal in my chest. “But damn you, it works. To hell with weighing options, I’m in.” The parchment trembled in my paw as I thought of Luciana’s gentle smile, the only true friend I’d known across two lifetimes. This serpentine Cardinal might be manipulating me, but if even half of what I’d read was true, I couldn’t abandon her to such a fate.
Next update will be in April. I started writing this series back in November, so I basically finished it in just 4 months. Way too fast, especially for my first book. I think my desire to maintain a rising-star status took over at some point, which affected the quality of my writing. Therefore, before diving back in, I want to dedicate this whole month to editing my first book. To that end, I even hired an editor.
The poll I ran previously showed that you overwhelmingly want to see more Academy, so volume 2 will take place in that setting. In Volume 3, however, Zar is definitely going to start exploring the three kingdoms as an agent of the Order of Crimson Wayfarers, a.k.a The First Inquisitor Order.
And being an agent, he might need a ridiculous code name. Currently, I am thinking of ‘The Puppydog Eyes’. Drop a suggestion if you are thinking of something else :)
