Meanwhile, in the backyard while Valorisa and Maxine were fixing dinner and while they were in the kitchen getting to know one another better. Donovan, Colin and Searciara were out back, where Colin was taking the opportunity to explain to Searciara, what this huge project they needed her help with was. The details which already had been explained to everyone else, in short, were summarized by the prairie dog as a regrettable mistake, in which he had trusted Captain Ghulius Gutgore of the Hoarfrost's Halberd, just a little too much.
"I don't know why I did it," he explained. "Probably, because it was the one ship in harbor which Ah' knew Ah' could rely on getting me home, and who's captain Ah' thought would be easy to negotiate with, since Ah've dealt with him time and time again."
Colin shook his head. "Anyway," he continued, "Ah' admit now, trustin' Gutgore was a mistake. Instead of returnin' tah' me at the end of the trip, the stone artifact ah' gave him as collateral, he has decided tah' hold onto it and tah' use it as a bargainin' chip. Primarily, because that thrice-cursed first mate of his translated it and convinced him it would lead him tah' somethin' even more valuable than the artifact itself."
"And what's that?" Searciara asked as she led the way through a multitude of half-finished projects, scrap for projects she still intended to start, and of course, the sleek metal frame of her newest project. That 1963 Sebring silver split-window Corvette which she could not wait to get started on. Her father as he followed behind with Donovan following behind him, then sighed as he replied to the question stating solemnly, "He thinks it'll lead tah' the lost tomb of Aloysius St. Abbot. The founder of the Order of the Labyrinthine Way. Ah' told him, of course, all about the traps and how people have lost everything including their minds, tryin' tah' find it. But he wouldn't listen. He's obsessed, with what riches might be hidden there, and he's given me and Donovan here, three months to find it."
Searciara stopped short. "Three months?" She asked, as dumbfounded over this, as her father was. The young eight-year-old, then needing a moment to compose herself, before they continued on. "Okay..." she murmured. "That's not a lot of time, to get things done. But if that's the case, we'll do the best we can. You said, someone translated the stone. A first mate, was it? What languages did she say it was coded in? I might be able to use that as a reference point, to help you find what the geography of Mintara looked like, at the time when the stone was written."
Colin looked to Donovan. "Um..." he murmured. "Ah' believe she said Early Balanic Cipher and Erminic, wasn't it?"
Donovan nodded. "That's right." he affirmed. "It was Early Balanic Cipher and Erminic. I remember her saying that clear as day."
"You're sure?"
Donovan looked to Searciara. "Yes. Why?"
She smirked, while arching her brow skeptically. "Well, it's just that's impossible," she stated. I mean, I'm not trying to doubt what you say, really. But if Gutgore's first mate claimed one part of the code was in Early Balanic cipher and the other was in Erminic, well then, they need to brush up on their Mintaran history. For you see, for that to be the case, is impossible. The early Balanic cipher, did not appear in use until around in the tree cycle of 350 T.C. and stayed in use, until about 500 T.C. A few hundred cycles after the life of Aloysius St. Abbot and his companions, when the disciples who followed after them were attempting to keep secret their beliefs from those who persecuted them."
"So... The teachings of St. Abbot were not widespread yet?"
Colin shook his head. "No," he replied to Donovan's question. "In fact, Ah'm surprised Ah' missed this point myself, but Searciara is right. Mah' order which at that time was called the Brotherhood of Balan and which was only in its infancy, did not yet have influence amongst all races, as it does now. For centuries, it was incorrect to even refer to the ermine people as one race. Ermines, martens, otters, they all marched under one banner. The proud title of Musteladonian."
"Really?"
Searciara nodded. "Mhm," she replied to Donovan's tone of surprise, as she approached a workbench and began unfolding several maps that had been set off to the side. "In fact, it was only after the fall of Musteladonia around 600 T.C., when the three major races of this lost empire; the martens, the otters and the ermines, began branching out and developing on their own. They, out of self-exploration as well as necessity, began discovering their own cultural identity. A unique characteristic which separates them apart from other races in Mintara. As while each race found a way to make themselves recognizably different from another, they still if you look deep enough, maintained traits held by their ancestors in this golden age of Musteladonia."
"So, Dylan's translation of the code..."
"Is an understandable mistake," Searciara replied to Donovan as she went to a bookcase and took several books off its shelves. ""I mean," she noted as she approached a nearby bookcase, "It's not the first time, I've seen an intellectual scholar mistake Erminic for Twilight Age Musteladonian. Here," the young prairie dog/kit fox hybrid pointed out. "You see how Musteladonian in the high golden age, is consistent, and then in the Twilight age, you have two types, one that remains consistent, and one that starts to see changes in the type and in the structure of the words and the syntax? It still for the most part, looks like regular Musteladonian writing. However, by looking at subtle details, you can see the ermines who were in the lowest tier of society, were one of the first to try and break away and to explore independence, even before the fall of Musteladonia occurred."
Donovan nodded. "I see," he murmured. "Yes...yes, this is what it looked like. I remember it clearly. Because when I got a glimpse of the stone, I saw some of these characters, in the same positions that I see them here."
Searciara looked with interest at Donovan. "Do you remember exactly where you saw them?" she asked, as she took out a notepad while the marten rolled his eyes to the sky, trying to recall exactly what he'd seen.
"Um..." he murmured. "I think..." it was a dot with a little upward pointing arrow, or something like that beneath it. It was only above certain letters. There was a K, Y, R, one above an apostrophe, and an X. does that mean anything?
Searciara chuckled. "Yes," she replied. "It may mean everything. Kyr'x. Pronounced Kyrux, guttural on the u, in the Twilight Musteladonian and erminic tongues. It means cross, when translated into the basic Mintaran language. And another word for Cross, which has long been a symbol associated with Balan and with St. Abbot, happens to be Crozier."
"Crozier?"
Searciara nodded. "Yes," she replied to Donovan once more, as she went back to the bookshelf and retrieved another book. "As in Edvard Tan Crozier. A nobleman who was both a poet and an adventurer, and who lived around the same time when this stone would've been carved. His greatest claimed up until his deathbed, was that he came closer than anyone to finding the lost tomb of this prestigious holy figure."
Colin chuckled. "Also" he murmured, "If I recall, He was known for heavy imbibement, and for embellishing to the point that his fables sat right on the borders of being out-right lies, wasn't he?"
Searciara laughed. "Um...yes," she admitted sheepishly. "It's true, those were qualities of him. But still. You know what I've always thought of him, and his claims that he makes in his book of poetry, Sonnets of Saints and Sinners."
"Oh, here we go."
"Father, this is evidence right here, that what I've always believed, is true!"
"About a Quixotical nobleman, who was drunk more than he was sober, and who was more likely to have imagined his tales out of a bottle, than have truly experienced it? Darlin', we talked about this, the writings of Crozier..."
"Don't you say it!"
"Searciara...Crozier's writings are fairy tales. He went from one thing to another, and it none of it made any sense. Believe me. Best to leave this alone, before it drives ya' mad."
Searciara gave her father a fierce glare.
"I already am mad," she snarled, as she marched off to the house. Colin as he watched his young daughter head inside and slam the door behind her, then winced as he heard Maxine shout moments later, "Colin Jeremiah Leonard!" A sign which the prairie dog knew, meant he was in deep trouble as he turned to Donovan and murmured, that the marten might want tah' stay out here, fer' a few minutes. It seemed like he was in fer' a hot one this time."
Donovan's response, he simply nodded, as Colin then double-timed it to the house. The marten once he saw the prairie dog go inside and once he saw Colin shut the door behind him, then gave a small shrug, and began whistling a little, as he wandered about exploring all the different projects Searciara had started. Her apiculture farm, for example, of which he kept his distance from, not wanting to be stung. Oh, and there was her caseiculture operation. She seemed to have that close to her Apiculture farm. Probably, because she was experimenting with blending honey and dairy products together, Donovan assumed. Another reason he figured not to touch anything, or risk accidentally disturbing the delicate arrangement she had laid out.
Searciara was mad enough already, after all. He didn't need her getting angry at him, as well.
Donovan sighed.
He returned close to where he'd been standing, as he approached the car, which he'd overhead Searciara say, had been found in a nearby junk pit. It was rusted. Old. Didn't really look like much, except for a rusted old paperweight, he thought. Before then casting a glance to an old magazine she again, had managed to scrounge up somewhere, with the picture of what it was supposed to look like, faded but plain as day.
"Myyyy...." Donovan stated under his breath, impressed by how the striking silver tones on the body of the automobile in the picture, just flowed along the chassis, making the vehicle itself, look like a sleek, silver bullet, that had been melted and then cast to form. Dells, if she got the car looking like that again...Heh."
Donovan leaned against a nearby table, and heard faint voices coming from inside the house. A discussion which sounded as if, Maxine was doing most of the talking. And where it sounded vaguely, as if she was giving him a lecture about letting their child have her dreams. That she was still young, and if she wanted to believe in something as harmless as an ancient poet's rhymes being the clue to lost treasure, then let her. "It is her birthday after all," Donovan heard Maxine state, as he wandered aimlessly through the tall grass of the backyard. The marten as he paced through a maze of scattered scraps and as he gently traced his fingers along the streamlined chassis of the 63' Sebring silver split-window Corvette, then heard Maxine begin to soften her tone as she explained to Colin, how he should let Searcey have her dreams for a few years more. "She'll discover the real world in her own time, and on her own terms." The fox explained in a rational voice to her mate. "Until then though," she murmured, there's no reason to burst her bubble and to destroy the few dreams in this world that make her happy. Especially on the one day, when it should be about celebrating how special she is. Do you understand?"
"But I was just..."
"Do you understand?"
Donovan heard nothing for a moment, before he heard a quiet, 'Aye.' spoken by Colin. A response, which truly did not surprise Donovan. For as he bent over, he stopped to look at his reflection in the cracked side mirror of the corvette, he thought about how reminiscent this squabble was, to his own late parents' debates. Situations, where in quite the same to this, they had discussed his, as other martens on Jutfaang put it, 'abnormal,' behavior. A phrasing Donovan had always thought was inaccurate, actually. As in his mind, he always thought of normal as nothing more than an invention of society. A fabrication, used to dismiss the idea that all individuals grow with their own perceptions of reality and life, based on the environment they are raised in. And that to say there is only one form of 'normal' thinking, is simply a measure of attempting to make sure that all members of society, follow the same statistical practices, when it comes to thought, beliefs, and actions.
Donovan snorted, as he recalled one argument his parents had gotten into. He recalled his father, who was very sensitive to what society thought of an individual, was perturbed that his son was not acting like, 'a normal marten.' That instead of going to the communal gathering at dawn and dusk, and reporting to his daily allotted chore, like he was supposed to. He was off exploring some dusty, forgotten ruin, and was listening to stories in a tavern filled with men who had nothing better to do with their life, but to sail the open seas."
Donovan sighed, remembering how his mother, who had been a more free-spirited woman when she was younger and who fully understood what it was like to be an outcast on Jutfaang, did her best to support Donovan as his father had once again criticized his behavior in this dispute. "Fortitus," Donovan recalled his mother speaking patiently to her mate. "We must be patient with Donovan. He is different yes, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Just because he does things differently, does not mean he has disdain or disrespect for our ways. Sure, it may be customary for martens to try and find themselves at a gradual pace, with the help of a greater community. But maybe...maybe Donovan, is still working that out. Maybe the marten community is not even his community. Maybe he needs to find himself by exploring a more diverse and unique community, than any marten has in the past." Donovan, as he recalled this, also recalled how his understanding of these words and his interpretation of them, had changed from when he first heard them, to when his sister first took over as his caretaker. To this moment now, in which they had been accepted by Colin and his family. Donovan as he reconciled all these things, began to understand just how complex the terms 'family' and 'community,' really were. That 'family' is more than just some group of people you have blood ties to. It is those who would do anything for you. Even sacrifice their own comfort, Donovan noted, so to ensure the ones they care about have the best life possible. Donovan as he took note of this, thus took a moment to reflect on all the sacrifices his sister had made for him. How for instance, she had given up her childhood freedoms and her chance at having a successful independent life, to learn everything she would need to provide for both him and herself, when their parents Fortitus and Patience Dashraft were killed by that horrendous lily tiger. A sacrifice, Donovan realized, which then was followed by yet another one, when Valorisa had willingly followed him from the only home she'd ever known, just so to ensure he stayed safe. And on top of that, she'd even made a third sacrifice, by giving up the family heritage coins, so that she could help ensure passage for the two of them to the Mintaran mainland.
Donovan clenched his teeth. "Three sacrifices...and she'd never even said one word about what a selfish little cur, he was being the whole time. She never complained. She never said anything bad about it...Donovan shook his head. He was going to do better. Not just, because he felt guilty about doing this to his sister. Not just because he realized it was time to start repaying his sister for all she'd done, but simply because she'd been patient with him for far too long, and deserved better than what she'd received thus far.
"She always says she's proud to have me for a brother," Donovan whispered, smiling for a moment at what he had determined to do, before snapping his head up as his ears caught the sound of the porch door slamming shut. "I need to be someone who can say I'm proud to be her brother," he murmured under his breath, as he looked back to see who had slammed the door, and thus, saw it had been Searciara. Donovan as he waved to her, saw her cheeks turned a slight red, as she caught sight of him smiling at her.
"Hey," she greeted Donovan quietly, waving back and giving him a soft smile of her own as she approached. "Um...sorry about earlier. I just lost it for a moment, and I know I should've controlled my temper better in front of company. Dells. I... I'm more than a little embarrassed you saw that. It's just I've always believed that there is more to that particular text of Tan Crozier's than meets the eye. And here, all out of the blue, I'm told the stone that everyone seems to want, has a variation of the word 'Cross' in it. Not to mention the ciphers you mentioned are from languages used by groups in Crozier's time, the Musteladonian era ermines and the Brotherhood of Balan..." Searciara paused and smiled. "Sorry," she suddenly murmured shyly. "My Libra is showing, isn't it?"
"Your what?"
Searciara chuckled. "Libra," she replied. "I was born under the 28th solar lunet of the seventh mont, of the 1172nd cycle. A day which the ancient humans would've referred to, as September 28th, 1172 T.C. They had a knack for abbreviating things."
"But the Libra thing..."
"That's my sign," Searciara quipped back, before Donovan even finished speaking. "It's another thing I learned with my fascination of human culture, I learned they had this fascination of assigning character traits to certain star signs and constellations. They believed for thousands of years, until the advent of their modern science, that this is what drove things."
"Oh?"
"Mhm. I mean, I don't really go for the whole 'influenced by the stars,' thing. I'm very independent and self-motivated, as you can see. As is supposed to be the norm, for people born under the sign. But is that a star, or is that me? I like to think it's me. That I'm the one who decides what shape my future will take, and that I will control the path of my ambitions not some sparkling collection of lights in the night sky."
Donovan patted Searciara on the head. "Well," he murmured. "I'll say this. From what I've seen so far, you're not only ambitious, but also very intelligent as well."
"Really?"
The red that highlighted Searciara's cheeks deepened. "Um...well, thanks," she said with a light chuckle. "I mean, that means a lot, hearing that from you. I mean, not that you are any different than anyone else. I just...aw dells. I don't know what I'm saying. Can we just put these books away? I mean, I think papa made it clear, he doesn't want us following this lead. He clearly feels that anything associated with Edvard Tan Crozier, is just fictitious nonsense. And you probably do too, don't you?"
"Me?"
Donovan shook his head. "Nah," he murmured as he walked over and sat down on a patch of grass by the bookcase and the workbench. "I don't think it's nonsense," he stated quietly whilst he patted a spot of ground next to him, motioning for the young hybrid girl to have a seat as well. "I actually was quite captivated by what you were saying about him, before you and your father went inside. You were saying he was some kind of noble?"
Searciara's face brightened. "Oh yes," she replied quickly reaching for her books, her tail wagging happily, as she tried to find the right one. "No..." she murmured as she searched, "that's not the one I want...no, not that one...ugh, why is that one even in this stack?" The marmovulpine as she searched and searched, finally declared, "Ah! Here it is!" as she turned back toward Donovan to him two worn books. The first one, a book in brown leather binding, titled Sonnets of Saints and Sinners.
"This," she declared, is what I consider to be Tan Crozier's master work. It is leaps and bounds of what many refer to as his, 'fantasia sonnets' which he wrote in the decades before this. Compositions, which, don't get me wrong, are marvelous in their own right. They just don't compare in my opinion to the Sonnets of Saints and Sinners, which is the only known folio of Tan Crozier's that was not used simply for entertainment at parties or for marketing his image as an intrepid explorer of unknown and far-off lands."
Donovan carefully peeled through each fragile page. "So... what was its intent then?" he asked, to which he received a cryptid shrug from Searciara, before she replied, "Eh, that's the kicker. No one really knows, aside from some well-placed guesses, such as that it might be the ultimate middle finger left by Tan Crozier to his critics. A way of saying, he was more than the two-bit hack, they always said he was. Some say, Tan Crozier didn't have enough talent to write this, that it was somebody's idea of a prank, and that everyone who believes the folio to be authentic, has fallen for the biggest scam in Mintaran history."
Donovan closed the book. "And what do you think?"
"Me?" Searciara chuckled. "Well," She murmured softly whilst she leaned against the weasel and curled up next to him. "I guess it's like I was starting to tell you earlier. Sure, before I knew about the stone and what was written on it, okay. I would've had an easy time accepting the possibility that it could've been a hoax or that this was some rude joke, left by Tan Crozier for his critics."
Donovan raised a brow. "But now?"
The marmovulpine looked up to the marten confidently. "Now," she replied. "The stone changes everything. It confirms, everything I've wanted to believe for a long time. That Edvard Tan Crozier when he wrote Sonnets of Saints and Sinners, had one last message to send regarding his greatest trip ever. He simply wanted to make sure only those who were worthy, would find it. It's why he gave this folio, the name he did. He is inviting both saints and sinners, to test their mettle and to prove their worth by taking on the challenge of finding whatever treasure lies at the end of the map."
Donovan raised his brow higher. "Map...but, but Gutgore and Dylan..."
Searciara patted his shoulder. "I thought the same at first too," she said. "They have the key to finding the map. Kyrux. Cross. Crozier. This is the map," she said, nodding to the book that Donovan was holding. "A map in 77 parts, it is my belief that each poem in here describes a different landmark used by Tan Crozier in his journey to find the lost tomb and treasures of Aloysius St. Abbot."
"Wait...so the stone that Gutgore and Dylan have..."
"I'd say it's utterly worthless, in the endeavor you are pursuing. I mean, that is unless they managed to get their paws on another copy of Sonnets of Saints and Sinners. But the only other one I know of, is in the Pentarchy Library. And you would have to get past the head archivist Belayana Xo'mala, to do that. An impossible task, I assure you; considering that even though Belayana is blind and though she uses a visor to provide her with soundwave imaging as a way of seeing, she still, is very sensitive to other stimuli such as sound, touch, and smell. So, she always seems to know when someone is around, even when you try your hardest, for that not to be the case."
"Oh?"
Searciara smiled. "Yeah," she said, as she curled her small body closer to that of the marten in reaction to a gentle spring breeze. Which apparently, as it brushed through her fur and against her small body, gave her slight chills. "Actually," the eight-year-old marmovulpine confessed, "Truth be told, she creeps me out a little. I mean, the way she's never front and center like the other members of the Pentarchy are. It's... freaky."
"Never front and center...what do you mean?"
Searciara sighed. "I mean...well..." she murmured. "Uh...I guess I mean what I say, as weird as that sounds. The others, you always know exactly where they are. You always know exactly when they're coming and from what direction, and you have at least a few moments notice to prepare before they show up..."
"But you don't with Belayana?"
"No."
Searciara shivered, despite being warmed by Donovan's body heat, as she gave this response. "Belayana is different. She's silent. Her movements come without warning, and she seems to show up out of nowhere at times. Almost, as if she has some ability to move through the shadows, themselves."
Donovan raised a brow. "Are you suggesting there is something sinister about her?"
Searciara was about to answer when she heard a gentle, 'ahem,' at which he turned and saw Maxine standing next to him.
"Oh," he said with a light blush. "Hello Maxine. Sorry, I didn't see you there. How long have you been standing there?"
Maxine smirked. "Long enough to hear the end of the conversation," she said with a chuckle. "And let me put your mind at ease about something. Despite what my daughter may have implied, there is nothing sinister about Belayana Xo'mala. It is true, that she is hypersensitive because of her condition, and that she at times is a bit queerer in certain traits of her personality than most of the otter race. But does that make her involved in anything sinister? No. She simply prefers a more isolated lifestyle. A life wherein while pursuing more scholarly habits, she thus has become what I would attest to be the greatest repository on Mintaran history, second only to my beloved Searciara here." She gently patted Searciara on the head. "In fact," Maxine noted as she nodded for Searciara to head on in for dinner. "That's how she knows how to get around without being undetected. She uses a maze of tunnels that were constructed in the early days of the Solmani Empire, when conflict between Otters and their arch-rivals the Groundhogs who live in Bristlespine Mountain far to the East, was much more frequent."
"Oh?"
Donovan got to his feet and walked with Maxine back inside as Searciara hurried ahead of them. "I knew a few Groundhogs back on Jutfaang," he replied. "They were associated with the sailors in the tavern where I hung out, and where I would listen to stories about Mintara. They always made it sound like the Otters were the enemy. That they were arrogant, stuck-up, and self-righteous."
Maxine laughed. "Oh, from their perspective, that may be true," she replied, amused by this. "Of course, the otters will tell you, that the Groundhogs are rude, vulgar, heathen barbarians. So, as you can see, neither side has ever been willing to concede that they are being narrow-minded, or that they could have more to benefit from an alliance with another, then either race could ever know."
"I see."
Maxine patted Donovan on the back. "Hey," she whispered. "In any case, don't worry about it. The Otters and Groundhogs, they haven't had a major conflict in a long time. Not since the treaty of Quenchfire, when the people of that village grew tired of never knowing from one month to the next, who their masters were to be. Whether it was to be the mighty groundhogs of Bristlespine, or the otters of the Solmani Empire. Either way, they decided enough was enough and seceded from both nations, to create their own small sovereign state, where groundhogs and otters live together in peace. It is probably the only place in Mintara," Maxine stated softly as she opened the door for Donovan, "where you will find such a peaceful co-existence between members of these two races."
Donovan stepped back inside the house. "So do you ever think that can be said for Groundhogs and Otters as a whole?" He asked as Maxine closed the door behind them and headed back into the kitchen. Her response, a subtle yet profound shrug of the shoulders and a quiet sigh as she replied, "Honestly? Who knows. I've been here for a little more than a decade, and I've yet to see anything change about how one side views the other one," She murmured as she brought in the roast with Valorisa following close behind her. "I mean," Maxine continued while this older of the marten siblings cautiously handled the pot of meat, "you have to understand. each of the members of the Solmani Pentarchy is assigned a different task. Welfare, Security, Economy, Records, whatever. No one can interfere in the duties of another, unless there is due cause for it. So only the person in charge of welfare and humanitarian issues, can work to resolve these issues, unless for some reason or another, they intersect with the duties of another Pentarchy leader's department."
"And that's why no one has worked to change these things?" Donovan inquired, as he accepted his slice of the roast and then thanked Colin who had handed it to him. "Because whoever is responsible for dealing with issues like these, doesn't see it as a priority to help heal the relationship between the groundhogs and the otters?" The younger of the marten siblings as he watched Maxine placed a strip of meat and a pile of boiled Marshwarts onto her own plate, then waited for a few seconds before she set her plate back down on the table so he could listen to her reply of, "No, that's not exactly the reason. I mean...well, how to put this... um, Searciara dear?" she asked of her daughter. "Do you want to try explaining this? You're much more eloquent with these things than I am."
Searciara's side ponytails bobbed, as she smiled and nodded. "Of course, mama," she replied. Then turning to Donovan, she explained. "It's probably best to put it like this. In the age before us, in the age of the humans, there was said to be a famous philosopher by the name of Zeno. He was one of the earliest philosophers of the human age, known best for a question, that even to this day, no one has truly been able to answer."
Donovan raised a brow. "What question is that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as Searciara's smile widened and as she replied that the question posed by Zeno had been this: "What happens," she murmured, "When an irresistible entity meets with an immovable force? No one knows. Do both come to a standstill and stay there? Does one eventually overtake the other? Does one concede to the other? It's a quandary indeed, and not one the groundhogs or otters take lightly either, as they know that not only could either party be considered the irresistible entity or the immovable force, but that also in the same regard, that either one could be considered the party which might eventually overtake their adversary. Or on the other hand, which might be the party which is forced to concede to their adversary, as they simply cannot surpass their insurmountable might."
Maxine got up from the table. "And that's also why," she added as she began to clear some dishes from the table, "things move so slow, in the process of building relations between the two races. Because as you can clearly now see, Donovan," she addressed the young marten, "it is a delicate matter in where both sides have been forced to consider what is the best approach to this, where neither side benefits more than another, where one race won't end up having a superior advantage to the other one, and where the people involved, will feel they come out profiting more than they feel that the idea of whatever plan is devised will eventually fall apart. A question, I will then inform you, has been the cause for the demise of more than one Pentarchial caucus, focusing on this issue."
Colin chuckled and threw his two cents in as well. "Oh, aye," he replied, thanking his wife as she took his plate. "I swear, don't be surprised if you hear people talk about how when those five get together, yer' likely to feel the echoin' tremors of their arguin' voices, all the way from Gracebrooke, up tah' here in the smallest most far-gone reaches of the Solmani Empire. Ah' mean, 'tis no small secret, that no one in that group of the Empire's leadership will ever agree in unanimous voice on anythin'. Particularly, when it comes to a debate between Gloriana Fenbrake and her cousin, Sheldton Tan."
Maxine as she returned from the kitchen with a Battenburg cake in hand, rolled her eyes at hearing the mention of these two otters in the same sentence. "Oh, four houses preserve us," she addressed Donovan, as she cut the first slice revealing a four square of blackberry and raspberry flavored cake, "lest we should ever have to endure the insufferable arguing of those two on either a good day or a bad one. In which case, I will add, may we pray extra well to Balan or whatever deity you pray to, for extra protection from such things. And and may we be kept safe, from whatever disaster those two's raging tempers can tend stir up."
Colin chuckled. "That's why, my dear," he reassured his mate, from across the table, "we are seein' Gloriana without the company of Sheldton. Because outside of the times when those two are havin' their typical squabbles about who's view is right, and about who of the two really has the best interests of the empire in heart and mind, they really are perfectly civil people. They just like ah' said, have these opposite views on how tah' best serve their people. Sheldton, believin' that to keep the people safe from both themselves and from threats existing in the outer world, yeh' have tah' have a watchful eye and a firm paw. Otherwise, there will be chaos and deterioration of society before you realize it."
"And Gloriana?"
Colin looked back over to Donovan, who asked this question.
"The exact opposite." The prairie dog replied with chuckle, as he lightly ran his fingers along his braided beard. "She's what yeh' would call a more optimistic otter, in comparison to her cousin Wartan. She believes, the people should be given every chance tah' succeed on their own in life and is willing tah' fight to the end tah' ensure they keep as much freedom as possible, in pursuance of this goal. An agenda, which Ah' admit, thus makes her a bit more popular with the people of the Solmani Empire than is the case for other members of that august body she belongs to. I mean...look. Don't get me wrong, lad. Ah'm not speakin' poor of the Pentarchy. They are essential, and they bring order to this vast empire, where otherwise there might be chaos. They serve a purpose, to be sure. A vital one. It's just...some would see them act the role in a less distant fashion. They would have them be more involved, in aiding the lives of the people. They want, in a word, for the ruling government to act more like Gloriana, who the people view not only as more just, but they also view her as fairer in her policies, and they think of her as more open-minded, than the rest of the Pentarchy."
Maxine coughed. "That's not the only way she's open," the fox murmured, receiving a stern glare from her husband, implying this was not the place nor the time, especially with guests.
"In any case," Colin stated, while he shook his head as indication that he was simply choosing to ignore his wife's comment, "the point is, as long as you keep the Gloriana and her cousin separate, they are very decent and pleasant people to deal with. A fact now having been stated and clarified, ah' think indicates it would be best if we left this subject tah' rest, and hence move on tah' somethin' else entirely. Namely, another matter which has been preyin' on my mind.
Searciara, Donovan. You two were outside chatterin' up a storm, while the rest of us were in here getting' ready fer' dinner. Care to share what it is you two were talkin' about, or was it a matter meant to be kept private, and only between close comrades?"
Donovan turned to Searciara. "You want to tell him?" he asked the young hybrid as she shrugged in reply. The young marmovulpine, not seeing any reason why not to, heaved the massive copy of, The Sonnets of Saints and Sinners, onto the table. Her father, upon seeing this book then groaned, and rested his elbow on the table as he placed a paw against his brow and turned away.
"Oh, father of the labyrinth..." The prairie dog murmured. "This again?" The marmot clearly expressing he had no interest in hearing anything regarding to this book, until he was silenced with a glare from Maxine. A reminder of their earlier conversation, on how there was nothing wrong with Searciara pursuing these dreams of hers. It was her right and her prerogative to share whatever notions she had. Even if certain people like Colin, disagreed.
Maxine cleared her throat. "Proceed darling," she addressed her daughter, while nodding for the youth to continue with whatever it was, she had to say. "You were going to say something about that book of yours?"
Searciara nodded. "Uh-huh..." she murmured, while she issued her father a pensive glare before saying anything more. "What I was going to say, is Donovan and I discussed that stone which father lost in his transaction with Captain Gutgore. We agreed, on many things. One, that the word for Cross written in the tongue of the late Musteladonian-Era Ermines, was significant on its own. Two, the significance was only elevated, when compounded by the fact that this stone had to have been written, in the same tree-cycle when Tan Crozier would've written this compendium."
Searciara turned to her father. "The odds are astronomical," she asserted, "that this book and this stone could have a link which puts them at the exact same place, time, and which connects them to the exact same people, who created each object. I know and I can see it in your face, that you think I'm grasping at straws. That you think I'm coming up with connections that aren't anything more than coincidence, so I can finally prove right, what you've called a fairy tale. But please...that's not what's going on. This is real. This is real!" the prairie dog/kit fox hybrid exclaimed as she tore open the book, and showed her father what she'd intended to show him. "Every passage," she said. "Every poem, is a directional marker to one of seventy-seven landmarks visited by Edvard Tan Crozier, during his trip to find the lost tomb and treasures of Aloysius St. Abbot. Here, look. A perfect example. Page 15, Poem 3:
"What am I, amidst the source of all? A small thing, at the edge of such tumultuous greatness. Swirling churning, mixing. What honor have I been granted, walking at the edge of where pillars rise from this place, letting sky and Earth meet? What splendor, to walk with ancestors, in this place where oldest waters pool."
Searcey looked up, as she closed the book. "Those lines, 'source of all, where oldest waters pool,' 'at the edge of where pillars rise...' I have no doubt, of what that refers to. It has to be the mouth of the Solmani river. The place the otters have long held sacred, as they believe it is not only where their people's essence was first brought into this world by Balan the Creator; but also, where they will return at the end of their time on this world. There is no other body of water, that an otter like Tan Crozier might refer to with such a reverent tone. It has to be it, I'm sure of it.
Colin looked to his daughter. "Okay," he murmured, trying to remain open-minded to the idea. "Okay, ah' see where you're coming from. Say, that is what Tan Crozier was referrin' to. Say, he did mean to indicate the source waters of Solmani Marsh, as the landmark mentioned in this poem. What then, are the 'risin' pillars,' he mentions, which sit near to this place? I know of no such ruins near there, which could match that description. Do you?"
"No."
"There, yeh' see?"
"But I do know of a formation."
"Huh?"
Searciara left the table for a moment to retrieve a map from her workshop outside. "They are right...here." she murmured as she laid the map on the dining room table and pointed to a charcoal drawing of a double waterfall etched into it. "The tears of Ana. A site which is frequented by both pilgrims and visitors alike, it is considered one of the most popular and beautiful natural wonders in the entire region."
Colin ran his fingers down two of the braids on the left side of the beard. "Yes..." he murmured, beginning to see the picture. "Aye, she's right," he said quietly, turning to face Donovan. "Yeh' look at them from the right angle and from the right perspective, they could look like pillars which connect the spirit world of the source waters with our mortal world of Mintara and the heavenly world of Aeolus. The realm of Balan that is, which many believe is above us."
Colin turned back to Searciara. "Aye," he said with a sigh and a smile, "Alright, little foxglove. Ah' suppose it's worth lookin' into. Ah'll bring it up tomorrow when talkin' wit' Gloriana. See what she has to say. Meanwhile, ah' think it's time you started thinkin' about bed. It is after all, hittin' that eighteenth shadow of the day, yeh' know."
"But papa!"
"Don't but papa, me." Colin stated, as he clicked his tongue and nodded up the stairs. "Off yeh' scoot now," he instructed. "Give yer' hugs and kisses, brush yer' teeth, and I'll be up in a bit. Okay?"
Searciara nodded.
"Yes sir," she replied as she hopped down from her seat and gave a hug and kiss not only to her father, but to her mother as well.
"Good night, everyone!" Searciara hollered, as she headed to stairwell. The youth while walking backward for a few steps, waved to both her parents and to Donovan and Valorisa. Her actions an indication of how she wanted to ensure that she said good night to everyone, before she headed upstairs. The patter of her small feet fading, as she disappeared up the wooden steps and down the hall of the second floor.
Colin sighed and shook his head, as his daughter departed the room. "Well," he murmured. "Looks like we know what we're doin' tomorrow."
Donovan chuckled. "Let me guess," he replied, "We're going to this place known as Ana's Tears?"
"Aye." The prairie dog shrugged. "We may as well," he murmured. "Got nothin' better to do, after all. I mean, sure, I still think of Tan Crozier as a charlatan and a two-bit hack. It is historical fact, that fer' most of his life, he used poetry to exaggerate the accomplishments of his life, and tah' make it look like he did far greater things, than he actually ever achieved."
"But...?"
Colin smirked. "But, if mah' daughter claims there could be evidence in this one publication, that he actually did one great thing with his life...heh. Ah'll admit privately, ah' am a bit inclined tah' believe her. Don't tell her I said that. I don't want her tah' think that she shouldn't have tah' keep fightin' tah' prove her point. Ah mean...it sounds cruel, ah' know. But one day, ah' won't be here. One day, she'll be out there without me to support her, and she'll learn how harsh this world really is. Especially, towards those who look like her."
"What? Foxes?"
Valorisa leaned over and patted her brother's shoulder. Speaking, for one of the first times that evening. "No," she murmured, to her sibling. "I think he means the fact, that she's not of one species, dear brother," the older marten murmured. "She's a hybrid. Half fox, half prairie dog. Remember the Clan Age? The Age which came right after the Age of Awakening?"
Donovan opened his mouth in the shape of an O, remembering immediately his lessons on this era of Mintaran history. "Oh yeah," he began to exclaim, before his face then fell, as he realized the connection his sister intended him to make.
"Oh yeah..." Donovan suddenly murmured in a much dourer tone. "The clan Age. A period between the Solar and Lunar moons of 672 and 741 T.C., when after the passing of the Golden era, or the Era of Awakening, as it is also known, there came an age that the early primal Mintarans in their early stages of sentience, did not know who to trust. So, they forged bonds, only with those of their own species and those within their own family units. Any outsiders that were not of the family or who were not of the species, were treated with suspicion."
Donovan paused.
"Wait..." he murmured. "You're saying even with the Clan Age long ended, there are still those in Mintara, who think like that?"
Colin sighed. "Well..." he murmured, as he wrapped a comforting arm around Maxine, who was still sitting next to him, "It's more as if, they use that as an excuse tah' justify their actions an' their way of thinkin'. You'll see, when we go into town tomorrow. There's always at least a handful of stands, who have these disgustin' 'no hyb need apply,' signs put up. You'll also probably here some people try to say that the reason they don't want to hire hybrids, is they are no-good filthy thieves. But I warn yeh' not tah' put any stock in this. Yer' more likely tah' find a thief amongst those money-hungry birds, then you are the hybrids."
Maxine smiled slightly, at her husband's livid defense of their daughter and her kind. "Just know," she murmured in a much more passive fashion, "this is the reason we don't want our daughter going to the festival. It's not that we don't believe she can handle it, or that she isn't ready to face the world, for what it is. It's just...I personally, don't believe she should have to deal with the hard truth of what it means to be a hybrid, until at least a few more years now. I want her to stay the happy child she is, and to not think of the world, as a place where she will have more challenges than the average person."
Colin turned to Maxine as she finished speaking, smiled at her fondly, and kissed her on the forehead.
"Anyway," he murmured, while turning back to Donovan, "'Tis agreed then? We go see Gloriana tomorrow at the festival, tah' see if she can help us find some other people to join our blessed party, then after, head directly on our way to the tears of Ana?"
Donovan nodded. " Sounds like a fine plan to me," he murmured, as he reached across the table and shook hands with the prairie dog. Colin in response, then let loose an an enthused chuckle before he replied, "Ah' very well then. If that's so and if it's agreed, we best get some sleep. We have an early morning and a long day tomorrow. For the trip from the city to the falls, is not a short one." The four at these words, then departed to their rooms. Donovan, proving the most excited out of all of them. For his adventure in Mintara, was about to truly begin.