The Last Heretic

THE MEN FROM THE EAST

The fox gently held the doorknob of Franklin's office with his hand, taking a deep breath. His travel bag weighed down the shoulder it was slung over like a bag of rocks. He only owned a couple week's worth of clothing and much less food and toiletries, but the bag was absolutely stuffed. He shook off his nervousness and tightly gripped the doorknob. He was an esteemed face of academia in this part of the country - time to own that face with the confidence it had earned.

The door opened with a quiet groan. Franklin sat at his desk entertaining their guests. The old man turned to the fox, "Ah, there he is! The man of the hour. Doctor Ladswick, meet the esteemed Professor Roko-Kaia D'Jun: our resident expert on Eulani history."

The three Dejans turned to the fox, their gaze a piercing arrow of solemn tact. They were a tall and noble race standing easily a foot over Franklin and even higher over the quaint fox. The oldest one there must be Dr. Eric Ladswick himself, accompanied by two others - a young man and woman. They were dressed in elegant classical wear - leather garb with silk overgarments in a beautiful, yet minimalist, white scheme with a thin gold trim. Their pale skin was nearly as white as the silk draped over it.

Ladswick held out his hand, "Professor D'Jun, it's an honor to meet you. My team is impressed with your knowledge of contemporary history and are thankful you could accompany us on this expedition."

The fox's leathery hand contrasted the soft, studious hand of the doctor as they shared a handshake, "The honor is mine - and please, call me Kaia."

"Very well. Call me Eric, then. My associates here are Lieutenant Icara Jaine..." Eric gestured at the young man, who nodded a hello to the fox, "...and Doctor Renai ad Turen."

The young woman held out her hand, shaking Kaia's with a gentle grace. He cocked his head, asking her, "Ad Turen...I've heard that name before."

She laughed, "Yes, my grandfather was the author Clydius ad Turen. I'm surprised you know of him."

"I have a fascination with the arcane, myself - despite my people's predisposition."

She smiled. The Vorsun were genetically unable to command the arcane, but nearly all native Dejans practiced some form of magics. It was the foundation of their very culture. It was in their blood. Icara quietly grunted at Ladswick, nodding towards the door. The lieutenant was never the type for small talk.

Eric sighed and glared at the military officer. The scientist had argued against having a military escort, but the academy's electorate said she didn't have a choice. The Dejan ministry of foreign affairs wouldn't take 'no' for an answer regarding this expedition. Hell...they didn't even ask to begin with, and if it weren't for the electorate's sass they would've had three more soldiers along for the ride anyways. As if this expedition wasn't tense enough already, being on Muiluran soil, the ministry had to involve their military. It certainly left a sour taste in the scientist's mouth.

Eric cleared his throat, "Well, now that we're all acquainted - shall we? The day only passes without us."

Franklin stood up and patted down his suit, "Of course, I'll walk you out."

The cozy morning sun bathed the five of them in its bright and pure light as they stepped out of the campus building and onto the warm cobblestone. Kaia pulled a worn, tattered painter's cap out of his pocket and dropped it on his head, pulling his perky ears out from under the material. They twitched at the sound of a nearby rumbling. The fox turned to the street nearby, watching the bustle of the city. Horse-drawn carriages rumbled through the street carrying their passengers to their destinations. Street vendors called out to passersby. He relished in the familiar sights and smells of downtown St. Bastion - the city he had called home for years. It was the busiest in the nation by a long shot.