A Positive Perspective by Sweety Slime (Patreon)

An officer. Less than three years with the Order and they made the tanuki an officer. I was almost insulted. I’ve been studying to be a ranger most of my adult life. I’ve been a Raven of the Order for six years, and yet somehow, I’m only a Raven Knight Second Class. That fact very nearly offends me, but I am not offended. It is not politics or favor that have limited my advancement, simply the realities of my vocation.

All of my best work has been clandestine, sadly. We ‘Blood Ravens’ don’t often get the accolades or acknowledgement we deserve. The nature of our missions tend to be classified. They don’t ask, we don’t tell! Still, to see another rise so quickly can be off putting, but I remain hearty.

You see all Blood Ravens are members of the Stealth Operations Division, but not all Raven’s in our division are Blood Ravens. Our work takes a certain grey morality that may be distasteful for most other Ravens. Thus, a lot of it is not shared or remarked upon by our betters. It is simply tasks that need doing, and I guess we’re the best equipped to do that doing.

Interestingly enough, most Blood Raven’s aside from the Archduchess’ son, Cassius Assyrius, are common born. Queen Brahmin could perhaps be considered another, being Duchess Reyes Kingsgrave’s pretty pet tiger; though her Stroudi heritage doesn’t count for much in the Courtian Nobility. So maybe the dirty jobs are left to us lesserkin. I know that isn’t the case, but it’s interesting to remark upon.

My Flight Leader, the tanuki Fran Gazpacho, is none of these things. Not a noble or lord. Not a Blood Raven, and not an experienced member of our Sacred Order... and yet our illustrious Primus saw fit to make the raccoon-dog an officer. For anyone else it might be a slap in the face, but for me, it’s a little different. I know the truth of the matter. That man deserves everything he’s earned and more. Some may winge on about it, but I will not join the chorus of whiners.

I’m not a pouty little pine marten and I know well my history. Growing up in Blækhardt in the northern Timberlands, I’m familiar with ‘The Tragedy of the Twin Kingdoms’. It’s a sad story told to all little timberkin for one reason or another. A story that has more than a little relevance here.

Those who consider themselves ‘freeborn’ tell the story to emphasize the dangers of Kingdoms and Kings. Others tell the tale to warn how necessity and greed can turn even friends and allies into treacherous enemies. Mostly the story of the fall of Illyria and Illium is a tale of morality. How though Illyria gained all they wanted by betraying their Illini allies, their treachery came at a high cost. When Belk attacked just a few short years later, there was no one to come to their aid. Not the Illini badgers, nor their Ayeri co-conspirators. In the end, the Illyrian wolverines had shown themselves to be perfidious backstabbers; and no one wants to support traitors.

My mother used to tell me as a cub all the time; “Remember always the lessons of Illium, Aelrie.”, and I did.

Though the Battle Clerics and Dread Riders of the Illini had supported and aided the warriors of Illyria throughout the Baptism, even sharing resources in the uncertain days after. Illyria’s need and greed grew more powerful than their gratitude. It’s a lesson to choose your friends carefully.

It’s a lesson I, Aelrie Varamis, have always taken to heart.

Being a petty little pine marten whose people are known mostly for being hunters, trackers, thieves and assassins, who you trust and who you befriend is important among the furlings of my culture. Though many like to equate our cultural talents to the Ayeri propensity for deception and subterfuge, we pine martens are a lot more honest and loyal than those facinorous foxes. Despite the name, the kin of Blækhardt are not known for being either black hearted or duplicitous. It’s actually a bit of a misnomer.

Blækhardt produces ink. There are creatures in our little lands, a sort of freshwater octopus in the Blæk Lake that produces a very useful ink that’s great for writing both mundane and arcane. It’s preternatural properties lend itself well to artificery that allows it to recreate books in volume.

My mother was a book binder, my father was an assassin for hire; though I’m told he only took the most ‘righteous of contracts’. He worked for the Hall of Shadows afterall. Though my talents and skills followed my fathers vocation, I was always enamored with my mother and her books. It is how I know so much of Illium and Illyria, and that is why I’m not too upset about the fast rise of our new Flight Leader.

The tanuki is a genuine Illini Battle Cleric. The last of his kind. That alone would be enough for consideration, the fact that he is a kin out of time, nearly as old as the legend of Illium’s fall, now that is an experience I doubt any can match.

My Flight Leader was found about three years ago on an expedition north. I was part of the ranger unit assigned to accompany Primus Adolyn’s flight to the ruins of Illium. The locals had claimed a powerful witch from the time of the Kingdom’s fall had been reborn and was running amuck. We were all skeptical, but Belk rarely requested the aid of Ravens into their Empire. If Yuri Belk wanted Raven’s to investigate, King Eriol was certainly going to strongly request we consider offering aid.

We never did find the witch, only minions turned by her dark power. What we did find was the cavern where the witch had been sealed in crystal for countless years, along with those who had fought against her. One such kin, trapped in time, was a tanuki, Fran Gazpacho; or Gaz as he preferred to be called.

The witch had escaped and freed one other, apparently the traitor who led Gaz and his allies into the deadly trap. His fellows, two other battle clerics and an archer did not survive their centuries of imprisonment. The bones and remains of other kin suggested a battle, one that apparently neither side won.

Gaz was the only one that could be saved. We transported him, crystal cocoon and all back to Lioncourt where not even our mightiest wizards could break the enchantment. We ended up reaching out to the Royal Sorceress, Sierra Lusario; whose arcane abilities are unrivaled, even among the Saurian Spellbinders for aid. It was frustratingly impressive how easily she was unable to unmake the magic binding him. The crystal simply melted away.

The last three years has seen Gaz acclimating to the new era. I can’t believe how well he’s adjusted in such little time. I must admit that his meteoric rise within our ranks was due not just to his raw power and ability, nearly as combat effective as a blade knight, and a powerful healer tor rival any white mage; but also the wealth of knowledge and experience he brought to the table.

Gaz had fought in the final battles of the Baptism of Fire. The last furkin alive who could make such a claim without being one of the ‘ascendent’ like Lady Sarissa. Sir Gaz isn’t even of Eternian blood, not an Elioudan like Primus Adolyn or Major Glendriel. Not special, not blessed, not anything more than a kin out of time. He will live a normal life span and die old and grey like any of us, and yet he is so much more than that. A window into a past that we can only read about in books or experience from the viewpoint of beings timeless and ancient. I don’t think I have to tell you how hard it is to gain perspective from a person who sees your life as a mere blink of their eye. No offense to Lady Sarissa.

So when his abilities and knowledge proved to be a huge asset to the Order, I was not surprised. When they promoted him time and time again for his contributions to not just the Clerics of the Order, but to our tactician and front line warriors, I wasn’t too miffed. When he was made a Flight Leader and I was assigned as his ranger. I took it as an opportunity to learn more about an interesting past that I’d only ever read about in books, and when he was promoted to being a full officer with an adjutant of his own, I was not jealous, simply proud.

Mujina flight is an odd assortment of characters. Myself an assassin who was given a chance to be more by Leverian Rangers. Arsis, a haughty hybrid who spent most of her life as a Freelance Mercenary. Half tiger, half skunk, all attitude. I rather like the Blade Knight. There’s Amandi, or mage, an Enndini genet as full of himself as he is with wine and merry. Quite the character if I do say so myself... and then there’s Fran.

My commander is a kin both knowledgeable and kind; powerful and talented. Despite his past and how troubling his reality must be, a kin apart from his own time; I’ve hardly ever seen despair creep into those autumn eyes of his.

Am I a bit jealous of his advancement above me? Perhaps, as I am the competitive sort. Do I begrudge his success? Never! I am proud and appreciative to have such a unique individual lend his power to our cause and to me in particular. I’ve learned so much since meeting the tanuki and plan to learn much more. My time and my own Flight may be years ahead of me, but for now, I’m content to follow this kin wherever he may go, as I am glad to name him as my friend.

I’ll tell my mother I’ve learned the lessons of Illium well, and I’ll be a better friend to this Illini than an Illyrian ever was.