1325

"I'm sorry...you want me to do what?"

"You heard me lieutenant. I want you to take these cubs under your wing for a few days. They could learn a thing or two from you." Kurr scoffed at the stern look on Sett's face. "Don't worry. They won't be as much of pawful as you were. They're among the best in the fahrar. Yvera here shot down 24 markers yesterday in rifle training."

"I'd like to see her do it without a sight!" The other cub protested.

"You were the one stupid enough not to use one Cartcus," Yvera rejected.

"Well had I used one I'd easily have shot 30!"

"Do me a favor and cry more about it."

"You'd know a thing or-"

"Cubs!" Kurr Sparbreaker's tired old eyes lit up with refilled primal youth, his stare locking them in place. The hair stood on the back of their necks and that old feeling of getting on Sparbreaker's bad side gently lifted Sett's as well. His next words rang in Sett's mind before he even spoke. "That is no way to present before your Primus!"

After a quick salute they just as quickly rehearsed their proper lines, "Yes Primus Kurr, we apologize."

"Now get out of my sight. Take your groveling elsewhere."

They knew they were off easy and bolted straight out of Kurr's sight, their arguments echoing down the halls.

"Not a pawful you say?"

"They know better. You've handled worse. Or so I've heard."

Kurr resigned to his chair, not at all caring that Sett stood near him in silence, observing him as eyed the paperwork on his desk and the mess the cubs had left the quarters in.

"Who rewarded you with that?"

"Oh, this?" Sett rolled his chainmail sleeve to reveal the remains of a deep cut that scaled the length of his left arm. "Just a missed parry. You'd tire too fighting awakened brutes hours on end."

The answer didn't satisfy Kurr. In fact, it all but enraged him.

"I ought to give Mallik a piece of my mind! Not even preparing you enough for human skirmishes and here we are talking the undead," he slammed his paw into the desk, burying his claws deep into the wood. "Who's tail was pinched to send you away like this?"

"With respect Primus," As Sett responded uneasily, "Zhaitan is dead, we... the Pact... killed him," he tripped over his words to extinguish his old mentor's ire, "it ought to worth losing an arm for that, right? ...it was Rytlock by the way," he finally surrendered.

"Hard to believe anyone trusts the runt after all these years." His anger subsided and he let his claws unburrow themselves from his desk as he relaxed.

"Still need me to see after the cubs?"

"Still a weasel too, trying to get out of this conversation." He glared at Sett partially annoyed. "Yes," he answered after a moment, "but there's something I've needed to tell you. I've never told this too anyone and..." he stopped himself before getting out of his chair walking over to Sett, meeting his towering gaze with his own subtle ferocity before he continued, pointing a claw for good measure, "if word gets out about this I will wear your hide. Understand me?"

He'd heard the threat before, and the rumors. So Sett nodded and allowed him trundle around his desk as he collected his thoughts. After a moment he spoke.

"The Priory. As annoying as the bastards are with their questions and their paperwork," he eyed the handsome pile on his desk with a dreaded look, "I found they have some use in their endeavors. Every single one of us that falls, they document it. Every single one. I couldn't help but be curious."

"I've never thought of you as the attachment type Primus."

"We all think about it Sett. Some are just better at hiding it."

"I hope you aren't implying anything."

"No!" He snapped. "Of course not. I taught you well enough. But believe me I know you feel it too, I recognize the look. That's why you need to know. You are..." He nearly choked on his words but composed himself. "You are the last one. The last of your fahrar."

Sett was disturbed by how little this news bothered him, at least in the moment. Rather than exposing any emotions, he simply observed his old primus, concerned as he struggled to string together any more thoughts. He thought to meet him and reassure him of... something, but Kurr signaled him to stop his advances. Not that he felt he had anything of value to add.

"I'm fine. I want you to sit with that though."

"I will."

"Bangar is right...you don't look right. You need a break. Take the cubs, then come back to me when you are ready to talk."

"And what do you suggest we do?"

1335

"I understand your desire for peace, Sett, as misguided of a passion it might be." Bangar remarked, continuing his focus on the legions' activities below, the stained orange glass that stretched from the iron floor of the office to the stone crested ceiling nearly concealing Sett's similarly orange fur entirely in its reflection, yet revealing enough such that Bangar could note of the expected disappointment in the Legionnaire's face. "I was once just as naive."

"With respect sir, I'm not the one who's misguided." Sett remarked.

Breaking his attention towards the valley, Bangar turned to face to approaching charr, "So much for that respect," he sneered.

"Look, I can only do what best for-"

"Who? Blood?!" Bangar slammed his desk in frustration, meeting Sett's bewildered eyes with his own furious gaze. A moment passed before he continued. "Really think about how you finish that sentence, Commander. Who's side are you on? Spare me the lie that you care about your own Legion, your four year hiatus burned that bridge for you. Who does that leave you with? The barely functioning Pact? Smodur? That damn dragon? Have you ever stopped to consider who you're even fighting for?"

"I'll fight for whoever is interested in keeping Tyria from destroying itself! It can be that simple Bangar."

"My guild abandoned me. My warband disowned me. My Legion growled my name as a traitor. If you'd seen what I did you would not only agree with them, you would do the same."