And so it was, that Dylan, with her newly recruited General, headed out to find members of the Anaton's Covenant who were willing to join their cause. Individuals who had the same shared passion and desire that they did, when it came to reviving the ways of this old empire. And who in all, wanted to be part of a movement to revive a time when the weasel race was considered stronger and more superior than any other. When it was believed weasels did not need the strength of others, but that they only needed solidarity amongst themselves, for their nation to grow.
Yes...Sheldton and Dylan did much recruiting in the time after Sheldton's release. But not however without their actions being totally unnoticed. As it is often the case, that fate does not let dark actions occur, without at least one messenger of light being sent to prepare the unwary for what is to come. A messenger which in this instance, came in an unusual form, since it came via the lips of Severus Slayne himself. The very same wolf whom Dylan had assumed to be dead before she'd left the shores of Ourobouros Isle, had now washed up on the shores of Port Columbine-Ravenmist Glen. The wolf, tired, battered and bruised, could barely remember what even had happened to bring him here; save, for a vague recollection of his being caught in a thick fog before arriving. The wolf, while trying to focus, gradually recalled hearing what sounded like fierce unpleasant hissing on all sides of him. And then after that, he remembered seeing writhing serpentine forms leap out of the fog toward him, just as...yes. Now he remembered. The wolf, as he staggered up the beach toward the city itself, recalled how at the last minute, he'd used a portal stone which he had stolen from Dylan's office. Yes, now he remembered. He'd stolen the stone, because he did not fully trust Dylan and he wanted to have some kind of fail safe or backup plan, in case a disagreement or a dissolution of their partnership led to her trying to kill him in some fashion. A moment of clarity and foresight, which Severus was now grateful had occurred to him. For he dared not imagine the painful death which might have befallen him had he been given no recourse but to remain on the island with those venomous snakes.
The wolf chuckled. He sighed, still trying to recall what he must've been thinking of, for the stone to have teleported him here. He remembered scarcely thinking about how he wanted to be relocated to a place where he could easily get help from someone he could rely on. Someone, who would know what to do, if he told them about Dylan's plan. Who would have the resources to help him stop her...
"Whoa!"
Severus let out a cry of surprise as he stumbled and fell backward. The wolf, having barely avoided being run down by a coach that raced past him, raised a fist and shook it in disgust. "Road hog!" he hollered. "You bloody road hog! Think the road is yours and yours alone do you? Well I oughta..." The wolf lowered his fist and fell silent as the coach came to a stop, and as one of its passengers stepped out. This passenger, a familiar sight indeed, was a marten who had her long blond hair tied back into a braided ponytail. She wore black chausses, a lovely well-fitting red vest and a white airy cotton-top. Her blue eyes sparkled like the sun-lit blue ocean, as she approached Severus with a soft smile on her face.
"Severus Slayne," the marten stated with a chuckle. "My word, as I live and breathe. I thought when I heard that raging temper, it had to be you. Good Balan, what happened to you? You look a wreck..."
"Valorisa?"
Severus smiled. "Gods, Calypso smiles on me today," he whispered. "It's been a long while. And I do apologize for my appearance. The seas know, that given the opportunity, I would make an effort to look a bit more...shall we say, civilized. Particularly, I might add, for someone so lovely as you. Heh. But still, cough, I digress. I unfortunately have not had that opportunity, given what I just endured. I will tell you about it, if I might be so bold as to impose on you for a ride in your carriage. You see," the wolf began to explain, as he used Valorisa for support as together they walked back to the coach. "It all started shortly after your brother and his company of friends completed their quest for the tomb and treasure of Aloysius St. Abbot. Dylan and Gutgore, they returned to the ship, as planned. And Gutgore went into a rage when he discovered the enchantment that Colin put on those gardening gloves, to make him think they were the real gauntlets."
"As was expected," Valorisa replied, as she helped the wolf into the coach. "Colin knew that probably would happen. But then again, he said Gutgore was never smart enough to find his way out of a dark room, so what was the big deal? I got the stones and have them in safe undisclosed locations. Colin and Donovan had the gauntlets in a protected place. I thought everyone came out happy. What's happened to change that? Why do you act as if something troubles you so, Severus? What's happened?"
The wolf sighed, as the coach started moving. "Dylan happened," he whispered. "She took advantage of Gutgore's blind rage. She realized he'd get rid of her the moment he found her no longer useful. So she got rid of him first. She poisoned his food and drink, declared herself captain of the Hoarfrost's Halberd, and then retrieved some map from his personal treasure hoard that no other member of the crew knew he had. That apparently, not even I knew he had. But which she seemed to know all the details about. Details, which I'll add, that she jealously kept to herself, as we sailed into a storm, the likes of which none of us have ever seen."
"Truly?"
"Aye." Severus nodded solemnly. "I swear," he muttered. "I think the ocean itself was intent on keeping us from that place. How we ever got to that accursed isle known as Ourobouros Island, I will never know..."
"Wait."
"Huh?"
"Did you just say...she took you to Ourobouros Island?"
"Yes, why? You know something about it? I mean...Dylan certainly seemed to, after all. Kept going on about how after the fall of Musteladonia, her people came to this island. How they decided that Balan was a figure used only by their fellow weasels as a way to keep them oppressed, and so they turned to..."
"The Omnifarious."
Val pressed her teeth against her lower lips, nervously. "Dells take it," she whispered. "Why'd she have to go sticking her nose in that?"
"In what?"
"In a matter...that is better left to the dust of the past," Valorisa stated quietly. "A matter, that continental Mintara should never have been dragged into. But lo, now it is. So I suppose I might as well tell you, so you can be prepared. What Dylan told you...yes. It's true. There was a war, between the Martens and Ermines. But this war...from what we learn about our history on Jutfaang, it was not over politics, or land, or anything like that.
No.
It was...unlike anything you could imagine. We considered ourselves the earthly soldiers of two great powers. Cosmic entities, who have been wrestling with each other for control, since before the first seconds of time began. One is the one whom we call, the 'Originator.' You call him Balan, but he is also known by many other names. The creator, The Great Hart, the cosmic Teacher, what have you...in any case, the point is, he has always been known as the embodiment of Peace and Order. He represents light in the universe and is the counterpart of his brother The Omnifarious. Um...Ourobouros. Apep, Jormungandr, to some past cultures. The name is different, but he is the same being. A dark one, who wishes to envelop the universe in darkness, discord, and anarchy. The Fangs of Omnos and the Genesis Gauntlets... they are but two single relics, from this era of Mintaran History. An era, in my opinion, which is better off forgotten."
"I see..." Severus got a grim look on his face, as he grasped the gravity of the situation. "So one pair of gauntlets was crafted by a divine being, and the other, his antithesis. Okay, okay. So explain to me this. Why would Dylan think she could use the gauntlets to reshape Mintara? Why would she think she could use them to make all those who looked down on the ermine race respect her and accept her as their new ruler?"
Valorisa blinked.
"Is that what she said, in those exact words?" the marten murmured, a look of concern appearing on her face as well. "I mean...as near as you can remember, what did she say? Exactly?"
"Um...something about, those who'd looked down on the Ermine race, would know what it was like to be ruled by one, and how she was going to set course for Port Columbine-Ravenmist Glen, now that she had the final piece of a plan, that she'd spent five years putting together..."
" Plan?" Valorisa widened her eyes. "Dear Aeolus," she muttered as she stuck her head out the window to holler to the coachman. "Driver, please pick up the pace! We need to get to Donneystone Parish for the quinquennial celebration sooner than I anticipated! It's urgent, please!" The driver's response was, he then nodded, and gestured for the two Prairie streakers that pulled the coach to pick up the pace. Two beasts that emulated the height and appearance of the ancient, long extinct Clydesdale; they were different only in the sense that their manes were comprised of a sort of fine golden grass, which produced natural sugars by means of photosynthesis. A means of generating energy, common to all Omnitrophs, in the sense that they all could either generate their own energy through this manner, or absorb it, through the consumption of external material.
In any case, the mane was not the only part of these horses which was made up of this fine, golden grass. Their coats were made of this substance as well. And in the beams of fine sunlight which bounced off their pelts, they looked as if to be made of solid gold as they traveled at an even faster pace through the streets of the small fishing village. Severus, as these horse like creatures pulled the coach along, in turn, sat quietly. His eyes, focused on Valorisa, while she gazed intently out the window. Her thoughts appearing to have been rattled by the mention of Dylan, her discovery of these gauntlets, and the idea that the ermine now intended to enact a plan which she had spent constructing and working on for the last five years. That detail about the plan, it seemed, was what had Valorisa worried more than anything else. For why else would she have demanded with such urgency, that the coachman pick up the pace? Why else would she have ordered that he hurry to the place known as Donneystone Parish, so that she could make her arrival at the city's quinquennial celebration, sooner than anticipated?
Whatever it was, all Severus could think to do, was to try to comfort the female marten. He placed a paw gently on her shoulder, receiving in turn, a gentle smile, as she turned back to him. "Sorry," she whispered. "I don't mean to seem so distant. It's just...you said Dylan had spent five years, working on this plan. I just...I find that strangely coincidental, considering that my brother Donovan, has spent that same amount of time working with representatives from all races in Mintara, to try and build a more unified and harmonious continent. He started shortly after he and his colleagues parted ways, after finding the tomb and treasure of Aloysius St. Abbot. He used the treasure to start a campaign of traveling Mintara. Exploring, getting to know the people and cultures of the various corners of this continent. They in return, of sharing their culture with him, learned of his story. They learned where he came from, and how he had found the treasure that no one had been able to find, and how he was using it, to propel himself on a mission of goodwill. A mission of attempting to unite the many races of Mintara under one banner of trade and cultural inclusion."
"I bet he met some resistance."
Valorisa shrugged. "From what I read in his letters; he did at first. He admits, he did feel dejected at times, and even felt as if his efforts were pointless and to no avail. Still, this is my brother, we're talking about. He's stubborn, clever, and was smart enough to use things these people didn't even realize they had in common, to bring them together."
"Things like what?"
"Oh, let's see...I mean, the Groundhogs and the Lizards, he really didn't have to do any work there, considering they already have a long-standing trade agreement, and have good faith in one another that neither side has ever felt compelled to distrust. No, it was more the Otters, whom he brought to the table on that part. The Otters as you know, were always isolationists. They thought they could do well enough on their own, and they thought they were strong enough, without the help of any other race. Particularly that of the Groundhogs."
"And...no longer?"
Valorisa shook her head. "There are still those who chafe at the idea," she replied, "but with the help of Gemma of the Agatan Disciplist Groundhogs, and Kysandra, heir to the title of Lod'zhak in the Otters' Solmani Empire, Donovan is helping many with more progressive mindsets, to open themselves to the possibility of this new school of thought. The idea for Otters, that Groundhogs are not a race to despise and look down on. And that for Groundhogs, the same goes for their marsh-dwelling counterparts. In fact, that is a major component to Donneystone Parish's Quinquennial celebration. It was five years ago today all of this started. When Donovan first began to construct the idea of a new Mintara founded on peace and ideas of inclusion and of cultural exchange. A celebration...I fear may be a key part of what Dylan was referring to, when she said, 'she waited five years, to put her plan into action.'
"Wait, you think..."
"I don't think, I fear I'm almost sure. The marten and the ermine. Two pairs of gauntlets, dark and light, brought into the same arena...I don't like this, Severus. Not one bit. Everything is aligned too perfectly. If things are about to play out the way I think they are...oh, Balan, Calypso and Gaiamor, help us. Something absolutely horrendous is about to play out. This is just the calm before a perfect storm. I...I can feel it..."