Although the details of the life of the mouse who had originally discovered the text were lost to history, the book itself was not. Quite the contrary, many would argue that it defined the upcoming age, or at the very least helped to set it into motion. Even though they could only recognize the pictures (and even in those cases, a few of the more abstract ones were quite challenging), those alone taught the mice a great many things. They might have figured out wooden, stone and even metal tools and weapons on their own, eventually, but this certainly gave them a head start on both their basic construction and use. Not only tools either, but clothing, armor, basic trade, the concept of drawing and sculpture, ideas which may seem simplistic to a human, but not so long ago were incomprehensible to mere animals.

It wasn't simply about creating tools to make their lives easier, either. There was far more to it than that. While they avoided humans and their machines, they still saw such things every day, and marveled at them, but reaching that level simply seemed impossible. The pictures looked different from the humans they saw, different in nearly every way, but they were still images of humans, and while they could never dream of building their own cars and airplanes (they'd have no idea where to even begin, after all), the images represented a viable stepping stone into a much larger world, depicting people and places and things which were still advanced but no longer incomprehensible. Beyond a way to make it easier to move goods and to shield ones self from the rain, they were a way to become just a little bit closer to those mystifying creatures that the mice admired above all others.

From this step, they could potentially continue to improve, and achieve their true goal: becoming Makers themselves, able to alter the world as they saw fit. For now, however? All they could do was crudely copy the humans. It took a while for them to get used to walking on two legs, wearing clothes, and holding and manipulating objects within their not entirely dexterous fingers. It was all worth it, however. They had something to strive for beyond simple survival, and they had that one book to thank. There was still so much more, however. Endless amounts of incomprehensible text, text which must have held countless precious secrets. Experts had pored over every image within it, studying them closely, learning every little detail from them, and none of this was done in vain. Much was to be learned from these methods, but so many of the pages didn't have any pictures at all.

Thus, it came down to the library researchers, guided by a single elderly mouse who had spent nearly every waking moment of his long life studying and categorizing the runes, searching for patterns, as his parents had before him. Within his stone structure, the most secure in the city, including the palace (kings and queens were replaceable, after all, but the book was not), he was finally drawing closer to the answers that he sought. One would probably assume that this researcher was the relative of Mathias the thief. It would make narrative sense after all. Despite that, they would be mistaken.

"...all of the other kids made fun of me for not having a tail, so my mom made me this." Jerin said, holding up her artificial tail across her paws, comprised of multicolored threads of yarn, all woven together. It was a pretty good replica, really, with the only real drawback being that while she could still move the stub of her original tail, the remainder of it simply drooped and dragged behind her. If it happened to get wet from being pulled through a puddle, it took a long time to dry out which was a non-trivial issue within a city that was largely comprised of puddle. For a while there, it was a little bit on the long side as well, but she'd effectively grown into it.

"It's pretty! She must have put a lot of work into it. Your mother must be a very special woman." Mathias said, rubbing the soft tip of it through his fingers.

"Yeah, she is! She's not my real mom, though." Jerin replied.

"She's not?"

"Nope, but that's okay. I still love both of them, though, even if they aren't my real parents." She answered with a soft smile.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Aaron growled to her. "Of course they're your real parents! You look exactly like them!"

"Lots of people look alike! You don't look anything like either of them. Does that mean they aren't your parents?" Jerin said.

Mathias, for far from the first time today, looked rather confused. "Wait, why do you think they aren't your real parents?"

"Because I'm a hero, and everyone knows the hero doesn't have parents." She said, matter-of-factly before giving the matter just a little bit more thought. "Okay, maybe they do somewhere, and they're royalty or one of them is a God, or in a shocking twist they're revealed to be evil necromancers or something, but usually they died tragically, maybe shielding their daughter from harm, knowing she'd grow up strong and proud to avenge them!" she sighed, briefly lost in the fantasy.

"I was at the nursery when you were born. They're definitely your parents." said the brother.

"Well, there are a lot of babies in those places! Maybe I was accidentally switched with another one!"

"Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Jerin hmmmed, tilting her head. "No. Do you?"

Aaron, of course, did not, because, as it turned out, it was actually quite common. While every effort was made to keep the mother and children safe in such places, documentation was rather sparse. So long as the mother left the nursery with the proper number of children, that was generally considered good enough. The communal efforts aided a lot with infant mortality, helping to counter the declining birthrates of the species. As the mice grew more civilized, the litters and general fertility rates had decreased, something nobody really had a proper explanation for. It hardly mattered, however, seeing as how even considering that fact, the population of the city was still continuing to grow at an alarming rate.

The older brother simply shook his head.

"I swear, I wish I'd never given you that stupid book." Aaron grumbled. He was, of course, referring to Mollenoch's Guide to Heroes, which listed the traits, steps to take and pitfalls to avoid in order to become a legendary hero. This was not to be confused with Mollenoch's Guide to Villainy, the significantly less popular book released later, after the writer had somewhat shifted their principles and priorities. The fact that so many potential and present day adventurers had that book, and yet none of them had become legendary heroes did nothing to discourage fans of the work.

"You're just jealous." she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Look, I get the appeal, but trust me, being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. You spend an excessive amount of time walking around in the dark, usually having to carry heavy loads, your feet are always wet and the locals are constantly bothering you to do menial tasks. Oh, and then there's also the minor detail that they usually end up dying horribly. There's all sorts of things you could do with your life. Maybe you could take up a craft?"

"What, like becoming a seamstress?" Jerin scowled.

"I didn't say that! There are all kinds of things that you could do."

This would probably be a good time to explain a little bit of the kingdoms history. Don't worry, this won't take too long. Over the many months, rulers have come and gone, as rulers tended to do. Most of them would not, if given the option, but there are logical limits to the the power of even the mightiest of emperors. Many of the leaders had been part of the line of royal descendants, but this was not a society based on ancient traditions and firmly established hierarchies, especially not in the early days. It was difficult to have traditions without a history, after all, so determining who would actually control the kingdom became a little more muddled back then. It was essentially whoever was willing and able to both claim and maintain control. In many ways, little has changed, but at least the modern world professes the illusion of law and order. Sometimes, usually in fact, it was a royal descendant, but this royal line had been broken and reforged on many occasions over the past years. One of the early kings was something of a tyrant, building a great army to subjugate the people. They also happened to be surprisingly popular, with most of the citizens approving of this method. Prey species aren't known for being the most defiant creatures, after all. There were some who disagreed, however, among them, the tailoring guild, a name which would later become infamous.

Through a cunning scheme involving making sweaters without head-holes for all of the guards, they had managed to create confusion enough to seize control in a bloodless coup. After ousting the king, they had established strict dress codes, which unfortunately proved to be more based on style than function. The exact details of their fall have been lost to history, most believing that it was over an obsession with maintaining textile purity which lead to infighting, combined with a now itchy and uncomfortable populace who eagerly rose up to depose them. Normally, criminals were exiled from the city, but there was a small problem here: the tailoring guild refused to leave. The citizens beat them, and threw them out of the gates, but the guild returned, time and time again. The people were at a loss on how to deal with the issue.

Killing them seemed much too harsh. Some speculated that perhaps a sort of prison should be built, where they, and other criminals could be sent as punishment and perhaps later rehabilitated. The idea of keeping people in a room for months on end was dismissed as wasteful, so it never happened. They certainly could have come up with a solution were they desperate enough, but there was another major complication: the citizens really liked having nice clothes. Sure, the overly fancy garb and thrice daily mandatory outfit changes were a bit much, but before the guild had come along, they had just draped themselves in whatever tattered cloth or plastic they could find. The tailoring guild, however did exceptional work. Much of mouse crafting was simply modifying garbage to be slightly more useful, but it still looked (and often smelled), like garbage. Their clothing on the other hand was both comfortable and quite stylish. Not quite up to the level of Maker designs, of course, but far closer to them than anything that even the most skilled mouse craftsmen could hope to create.

Thus, the citizens came to a decision: They would allow the tailors to remain, but from this day forward, they would be very rude to them, treating them with constant disdain. However much they disapproved of tailors, seamstresses and the like, though, they still kept wearing clothes. The tailors considered the compromise a fair one, as all great artists must suffer for their craft.

Due to this general disdain, however, most clothiers took to the shadows, hiding from view. This did nothing to alleviate the concerns of the populace, of course, with clothiers now seen as part of a sinister and shadowy organization, often the scapegoat for any unusual circumstances or general social ill.

"If you really want to fight, maybe you could join the city watch? Or even become a palace guard?" Aaron continued.

"What, and spend my days just standing around, doing nothing?" She said. This wasn't an entirely inaccurate assessment. While a certain level of skill and muscle was required, it was very rarely put to use. Most of the job was, indeed, just standing around to discourage criminals, and make the citizens feel safe. Not entirely unrewarding, but frightfully dull, as Aaron himself could attest. Some mice handled boredom much better than others, however. A few, in fact, one might argue a fortunate few, actually craved it.

"Okay, fine. Maybe you could enlist in the military, and join the campaign against the shadow king?" he said. He had no real issue with her wanting to fight, so long as she put that passion towards a battle that was actually winnable.

Jerin rolled her eyes once again. "Who cares about that silly little political dispute?"

Meanwhile...

There were a series of deep rumbles in the distance as a group of beleaguered soldiers huddled behind a tattered metal barricade. The air smelled of smoke and dust, the earth about them scarred with craters of varying sizes.

"Where are our reinforcements? They should be here by now!" a thin young man cried out, slamming a fist on the rusted diagonal wall. His other arm hanged limply at his side, visibly bloodied.

"Reinforcements? Why would they send reinforcements? What good would it do? They could send in another thousand mice, and it wouldn't make a difference!" Another replied to the first, his eyes wide from panic and a lack of sleep, his heavy plastic armor doing nothing to make him feel safer. Another sat against the barrier, trembling, face in her paws but still unable to close her eyes. One more laid curled up nearby, who hadn't moved for a disturbingly long while. A slightly larger mouse in plastic plate mail (which looked to be in no condition to offer any sort of protection anymore) stood, arms folded, head bowed, tail twitching.

"I've never seen weapons like those. Why didn't anyone tell us what we'd be up against?" The first one asked, sounding no less frantic than before. "Did they even know?"

"We're dead. We're all dead." the second said.

"You don't sound dead." the commander replied in a low voice.

"Huh?"

"I said you're making an awful lot of noise for someone that's dead." she said, stepping towards the pair, her armor little more than tattered plates, barely hung together by strings, several of which trailed behind her as she walked. "Life and death ain't a spectrum. You're either alive or you're not. Sounds to me like you're still alive."

"Okay, fine." the exhausted soldier spat, "But for how long?"

"Who knows? Worry about that when it happens. For now, though, you're not dead. You weren't dead a minute ago, either, and you weren't dead five minutes before that. Shouldn't be any harder to go another minute, should it? And then another after that? String together enough minutes, and the next thing you know, you'll be back home with your family, looking back at this as a bad memory. But that doesn't matter. All the matters is the now, and you've still got your life, and if you want to keep it as long as possible, we've got no choice but to fight."

"We can't fight them!"

"Why not?" the commander growled, "Because you're scared? Because they're too strong? You think that's a reason to not fight? Well, I think it's the only reason to fight. That's why we're here, because if we don't take a stand, what will happen? This terror, this nightmare won't just go away. It will only get stronger, and will come for our mothers, and our children, for our husbands. It will destroy everything we love, everything that's good and decent in this world."

The heavy rumblings grew steadily louder. Something drew closer.

"You really think we can stop them?" the formerly cowering girl asked as she rose to her feet, clutching her bow to her chest, sounding both skeptical, but with just a hint of hopefulness in her voice as well. While she didn't really believe it, she was certainly eager for someone, anyone, to change her mind.

"Maybe not, but we can try." she walked towards them, trying to hide the limp from her bandaged severed toe, the last few plates of her armor crumbling away behind her. "I know none of you asked for this. Nobody does. Maybe you thought it would be an easy career, maybe you though it was a way to get away from your problems at home, maybe you thought it would be a fun little adventure that you could tell your friends about when you got back. Maybe you're even the rare few who thought you could become great heroes, and stand against the evils of the world. A lot of recruits think that, but are too embarrassed to say it aloud. They shouldn't be, however. You are heroes, each and every one of you."

The three looked up at their commander, still far from convinced, but at least a little bit further from death. Considering just how close they had all felt just moments before, that little bit was incredibly significant to each and every one of them.

"Sure, people at home might not write songs about you, children won't play with toys modeled after you, but we'll know we stood while others fled, we fought with everything we had, and if we do fall, we'll do so with a smile knowing that we've made the world a little bit better a place. A little bit safer for our loved ones back home. We made the enemy, as fearsome as it is, just a little bit weaker for the heroes which will follow us, and brought us, all of us, one step closer to peace. We'll know that our example will inspire others to follow it until one day, evil is vanquished, and nightmares like this are simply stories parents tell to their children before bed, distant memories of a world which brave mice, against all odds, fought to protect."

The series of deep, echoing thuds grew closer and closer, but the other three mice didn't seem to notice, their eyes locked on their commander. The fifth soldier continued to enjoy their permanent nap.

The commander raised her cracked mace to the sky, looking up, the light fur of her neck bloodied. "We are the knights of the the great mouse kingdom! We may fear, but that doesn't make us weak, it makes us determined! The weak are the ones who seek to destroy the helpless, to conquer those who can't fight back, who can only validate themselves through death and destruction. They're soft and cowardly, but we? We stand for a righteous cause, no matter how hopeless it may seem, and if necessary, will sacrifice all for the greater good..." she paused and smirked, spitting out a loose tooth, a small trickle of blood dribbling down her chin. "...but that's not going to happen, is it? I don't know about you three, but I've got no intention of dying here today. We've got too many stories to tell, too many people back home who thought we'd never amount to anything to prove wrong, too many smiling faces of loved ones to see, and a world, maybe not free of terror and tyranny, but one we can be sure is a little better than the one we were first born into, to get back to."

"Yeah, that's right!" the sleep deprived soldier cheered, still looking somewhat crazed, but considerably happier about it. The female recruit similarly smiled for what felt like the first time in forever, raising her bow.

The rumbling grew deeper still, the series of heavy thuds becoming louder.

"And all that stands is our way, is that-that thing up ahead. I don't know about you blokes, but I'm tired of getting kicked around, tired of being scared. Let's turn things around on them, see how they handle it. Send them running home crying, because they're soft, but us? We've never been stronger." she pointed her mace to the barricade, the sound coming from right behind it. "We're going to make them regret ever starting this fight."

The other three soldiers smiled, weapons drawn, and stood alongside the commander. She turned to each of them and grinned as the metal barricade shattered into splinters, and the monstrosity appeared. Thick metal legs of the mobile metal throne crashed down in front of them, behind it a sea of metal and fur and the occasional glowing eyes of the shadow kings army, who pointed their guns towards the surviving knights. The king himself cackled madly, face encased in iron and wires and glass, the two gatling guns at each side of the twisted seat whirring as they began to spin.

That was a damn good speech, The commander thought to herself, a shame there weren't more around to hear it. The four soldiers raised their damaged weapons, cried out triumphantly and charged, immediately before the four massive guns tore each one of them into shreds.

Mathias blinked. "Um... did anyone else see that?" he pressed his fingers to his temple, the pain behind his eye passing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Huh?" Jerin asked, and shook her head. "Anyways, no, I don't want to join the military. I want to make a real difference, and fight battles that actually matter!"

"Look, I know you want revenge for your lost tail. I understand that more than anyone." Aaron said.

"It's not about my tail! Well, you know, it is, but it's more than that! What about our friends? What about our home? Doesn't any of that matter to you? How can you just shrug all that off, like it's no big deal?" she growled at him.

He glared back. "Of course it matters to me! What, you think I don't care? You think it didn't nearly kill me seeing you hurt like that, knowing there was nothing I could do? You're not the only one who lost something that day, and if I thought there was a way, any way we could set all that right, I'd do it in a heartbeat, no matter what the cost." he added, still staring at her intensely. "...but unlike you, I'm not some dumb kid. I know when there's more to lose, and little to gain. I know a thing or two about heroes as well, namely that just because they've got a noble cause, and their enemy is evil, that doesn't mean that they'll win. The world isn't like your silly stories. Reality doesn't take sides, and doesn't give you an edge just because you're plucky and have good intentions. Reality doesn't care about good or evil. Hell, if anything, it favors evil, because all evil cares about is strength and viciousness, while goodness is gentle and kind."

Jerin frowned, folding her arms, looking away from him.

Her brother sighed. "I get it, you're angry and want to fight back. Trust me, I've been there. You also know you'll be able to win, and defeat the dark lord. I've been there, too. Back then, before the attack on the village, you never thought that you'd lose your tail, though, did you? And yet it happened. No matter how sure you are that you can't lose a whole lot more than just a tail, you're wrong. There's always so, so much more to lose. That's why sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, the bravest thing you can do is just cut your losses, and be grateful for what you have. Otherwise, it's not just possible that you'll lose everything, it's a certainty that you will."

Jerin lowered her head, sweeping her arm to one side. "Look around you. Is this what we should be grateful for?"

Aaron paused. "It's not so bad." he said, but didn't he sound too confident. While it was true that life in the city could be pretty good at times, he knew full well the argument his sister was going to make, and didn't have much of a counter for it. Despite her more recent enthusiasm, his sister found little joy within this place. Normally, he would have been happy to see this change in her personality, from the quiet and withdrawn creature she had been ever since the loss of her tail and the deaths of the other village children, but of course that change hadn't come freely. This current ambition may have breathed new life into the girl, but isn't that much use unless she could actually continue to live that life.

"It's safe. That's all it is. Maybe that's enough for some, but it's not for me. There's a big, beautiful world out there, but we're stuck hiding and cowering in fear. Why? Because we're small and weak? You say that's just reality, and maybe you're right, but that doesn't make it fair. Why do we have to live here, where it's always damp and dingy and crowded, while those-those monsters can just roam free, and do whatever they want?" Jerin said, her voice cracking a little.

Her brother looked to his feet. "You're right. It isn't fair. It's not fair at all, and in a better world, that wouldn't be the case. We could live our lives, freely explore, and be able to appreciate this wide, beautiful world without fear, but we don't live in that world. All we can do is make the best of what we have."

She looked at him, with a sincere expression that stung Aaron's heart with an immediate pang of guilt. "Why are we here, if not to make the world better? What's the point?"

Aaron balled his hands into fists in frustration, feeling all the more guilty, which, in turn, made him all the more angry. There was nothing worse than being made to feel bad even though you know that you are right. A common curse of those attempting to be the voice of reason in an otherwise irrational world. "We can make the world better! But that doesn't mean we can just change how everything works right away, just because we want it badly enough!" he turned to Mathias. "You, thief, back me up here. You don't honestly think that we're capable of defeating Midnight, do you?"

"Uh, I have a name you know." Mathias said, scratching his head. He paused in deep thought. "Hmmm, that's tough. If someone asked me yesterday if such a thing were possible, I probably would have laughed in their face. Today, though, if you want a definitive yes or no answer." He gave a little smile, "Yeah, I do."

Aaron blinked. "What? Why? Why would you think that? Why would anyone think that? And don't tell me it's because of that sword of hers."

The thief shook his head. "No, no. Well, maybe. It couldn't hurt, anyways, and I have a feeling that that weapon is more powerful than you realize, but I don't think that the sword is enough to win the battle on its own. I guess I just have faith."

The larger mouse groaned. "Please don't tell me you're one of those religious types..."

"No, it's not like a religious kind of faith, the kind where you just force yourself to believe something in the face of all opposing evidence. Well, maybe it is kind of like that, or at least what religious faith is supposed to be. It's just a sort of calming certainty, genuine belief, with reason on the other end, trying to force it down, but no matter how strong the arguments against it are, they somehow don't matter. It's like standing at a cliff. Even if you're surrounded by experts telling you it's fine to just step forward, and they've got tons of data and equations to explain why, you're still scared to, because, even though you're not an expert, you know you'll fall. This is the opposite. I somehow just know it will all turn out okay." he said with a nod.

This was mostly accurate, but not entirely. The 'somehow' was the inaccurate part. He knew exactly why, even if not so much the how. It was almost entirely because of Jerin. His rational mind tried to fight back a little, as rational minds do. They love an argument that they know they can win. It tried to tell him he was just infatuated with the girl because he thought she looked pretty, and as a result, was just convincing himself to believe in her, purely as an excuse to stay at her side. Deep down (perhaps not so deep, in fact), he knew that this wasn't true, however. There was just something about her, like a sea you get swept along with, where no matter what silly thing she said, he found himself nodding along in agreement, even when he knew that the counter-arguments were sound. Maybe it was simply her energy and enthusiasm, something in short supply in these parts, where the average citizens weren't necessarily depressed and dour, but were largely unambitious. There was a sense that she could accomplish absolutely anything. If she were to claim that she could raise the dead, his first instinct wouldn't be to assume that she was lying, but concern that the corpses might come back as flesh eating zombies. It wasn't only her, either. There was the other one, Aaron. He had a strength to him too, even if he didn't realize it, even if he refused to realize it. You could just feel it, like a warmth from them. A sense that these two, these two were going to do something special, and by simply being close to them, no matter how ordinary a person you were, you could somehow be special as well. It was an easy decision, in the end. Everyone wants to be on the winning team, regardless whether or not their justifications for what makes it the winning team are strong or weak. Whether your confidence is irrational or irrational, it is still all the same to you.

Aaron simply shook his head. As much as he had disliked the idea of someone else tagging along, he didn't anticipate being outvoted like this to be a serious concern. He turned to his sister. "Even if, somehow, we defeat Midnight, that won't really change anything. There are a ton of dark lords out there. We can't fight all of them." Please, he thought to himself, please don't tell me that you want to fight all of them.

She nodded in agreement. "We don't have to make the world perfect, but it's a start. Midnight wasn't just some dark lord, it attacked us... for nothing! We hear stories about how they eat mice, and while I don't like the idea, I guess it's still fair. Everything needs to eat, after all. But that-that monster came to our village and destroyed everything! It wasn't hungry, we weren't a threat, it just did it because it could!"

Aaron couldn't even try to debate this point. It was true, even more so than she had realized. The image of those terrible eyes looking back at him and his wounded sister were burned into his mind. They weren't hungry or angry eyes. If anything, they were simply amused, as though the two were just toys to be played with. The idea enraged him. In truth, he was quite sympathetic to his sister. He had his share of revenge fantasies, and would absolutely love nothing more than to make that creature the one hurt and afraid. What hurt most about all that day wasn't his broken shoulder, a wound which healed to some extent, but he still carried with him to this day, but his inability to protect Jerin. That was the only thing that mattered, and he had failed. It was still all that mattered. That's why he always wanted to be strong. After all what's the good of strength if you can't use it to defend the weak? He also knew that that his failure wasn't a temporary one. She was still hurting from that day as well, even more than himself, and there was nothing that he could do to close that wound. Well, except for defeating Midnight. The problem was, that was impossible. Not simply difficult, impossible. Not with a hundred trained soldiers. Aaron couldn't even touch the dark lord before, and a part of him suspected that even if he were somehow able to land a blow, it wouldn't have mattered. Even if he cut through the flesh, the wound would have simply closed itself up, leaving the beast unharmed. Dark lords were not simply larger and stronger versions of mice, they were a class in themselves, perhaps just a step short of the Makers. Mice bleed, but demons and Gods? They aren't the sort of things that can simply be cut with swords or broken with hammers.

If this was true, however, why wouldn't he just take the sword from her and throw it away? Sure, she would be angry, maybe even never forgive him, but that's far better than her dying, right? He could stop all of this madness if he truly wanted to, and yet he didn't. Why? Was he simply determined to convince her, and make her admit that he was right? Or perhaps deep down, no matter how unlikely it seems, he genuinely wanted to be proven wrong?

"If we can defeat Midnight, said to be the darkest of the dark lords, it will send a message, not only to the other dark lords, but to mice as well. A message that, if necessary, we can fight back, and that no matter how dangerous the world is, we don't need to live in fear. Maybe it won't mean much, or make a huge difference, but maybe, just maybe, the next time one of the dark lords finds one of our villages, it will think twice before attacking it. Then, just maybe, some mice won't need to go through what we did..." Jerin said, pausing before she grinned. "Even though I turned out pretty great despite that."

Aaron fought back his own smile, even though he knew he should have been strong and steadfast. She might still be a dumb kid, but she had a way of making even her dumb kid ideas sound feasible. The whole plan was still, of course, stupid and suicidal, but there was was time to convince her of that later.

They had finally reached their goal, and the moment the Aaron had dreaded. No, they didn't find the dark lord, of course, but they did arrive at the university. This was the largest structure in the city by a fair margin (with the palace and the surrounding regions not technically considered a part of the town), and looked quite impressive at a distance, framed by stone columns with statues atop them and smooth painted walls. As one grew closer, as was typical of mouse architecture, the many imperfections grew quite clear, with each column not being quite the same size, some of them slightly tilted, and the walls cracked and blotchy. Still, by mouse architecture standards, it was still pretty impressive. It was built off of another large structure, the original library, which only held a single book and housed only a few mice who worked tirelessly to try to interpret it, treating all visitors who wished to look upon the many pictures as unwelcome annoyances.

Above ground, the university had three floors, with the first being the main area of study, the upper floors mostly being dormitories. The top floor was essentially a non-stop party, with the main floor having at least some consideration taken to actually working and learning a trade, but with not nearly as much focus as teachers would like, with each of said teachers wearing a constant scowl of disappointment at the 'wacky' antics of their students. Aaron was not a fan of this place. It was loud, obnoxious, and you couldn't pass by any group of students without hearing at least three fart jokes. This floor wasn't the real problem, however.

The university was much, much larger than it had initially appeared, and things got weird there in a hurry. They moved down to the first basement, which wasn't too bad and really quite impressive in its own way. This is where the serious practitioners graduated to, studying under the true masters of the craft. There was a certain madness here, but of a more relatable variety. The sort where if one were to ask a question to a student about what they happened to be working on, they'd excitedly ramble on about the topic for hours, no matter how obvious it was that the questioner was simply being polite and had no real interest. The students here were hard workers with a genuine passion for their respective crafts, with the masters wearing no less disappointed scowls than the teachers above, however, their expectations simply having shifted accordingly.

While within the first basement students were passionate, by the third, they were borderline fanatic. There was very little talking here, with the grand-masters standing around, still looking disappointed, as well as rather bored, having very little to do. This was also where the paranoia began to set in. Students no longer saw one another as comrades, but rivals, constantly out to sabotage their hard work, even when they studied under completely different fields. There was only so much appreciation and prestige to be found in this world, after all, and all of these devoted apprentices were eager to obtain it. Jerin and her group were eyed with suspicion, along with a sense of relief as they passed through, the students making a point to shield their work from the potentially prying eyes which were surely eager to steal and take credit for it.

One can probably see the pattern here. By the fourth basement, where was, of course, no hint of natural light. The torches were few are far between, the vast majority of which were claimed by the relatively small number of students who relied on them to light up the copious amounts of tomes. The idea of two of the mice actually sharing a light source seemed downright absurd to them. There were no masters on this floor, the students essentially masters themselves, and the work looking suspiciously like gibberish to the untrained eye (it wouldn't be until the next floor were it looked exactly like gibberish to even the trained one). People didn't look up from their work, constantly muttering to themselves, and the walls were lined with dusty books, most of which had borderline unpronounceable titles.

As a rule, city-mice don't like the deep underground. Burrowed tunnels just below the surface are fine, where they can at least sense that the sun and sky are just above them, but the deeper one goes, the less comfortable they become. This is not only due to the metaphorical sense of moving further and further from the light of day and what they saw as the natural world, but also due to the unpleasant habit such places have of collapsing. There was little risk of that here, the large chambers and stairwells remarkably well crafted of solid brick, but the sensation still remained, the sense that they shouldn't be down here, and while none of the party would say such a thing aloud, they all actively thought so, as they walked soundlessly down the uneven steps.

Once they reached the bottom, the door to the lower chambers, things grew strange in a considerably more unsettling way. The wooden door was closed, which was hardly a surprise. The unusual thing was the terrified looking elderly mouse in the long tattered robe barricading it shut. In truth, the mouse wasn't elderly at all, at least not in months lived, but one can forgive the assumption based off of their weathered and haggard appearance. The group stopped, staring at him, wondering if this was normal. As it turned out, it was not.

The mouse turned to them with wide, frantic eyes, back braced to the door. "Who are you?" he asked, eyes somehow growing wider still at the sight of Jerin's and her brothers weaponry. "Are you with the city guard? Have you come to help us?" He asked, cracked voice filled with hope.

"Um... yeah." Aaron replied. It's wasn't a total lie. Technically he wasn't on duty at the moment, but the exact divisions on on and off duty of such a directionless profession tended to be rather vague in themselves. "What's going on here?"

"Fiends burrowed into the walls, and seized control of the lower levels! They resisted even my strongest spells!" he exclaimed. Aaron narrowed his eyes, completely unsurprised by that last part. "All that I could do is seal the doorway to keep them from overrunning the entire school, but my fellow mages are trapped inside!"

"How long ago did this happen?" Aaron asked.

"Just a few minutes ago. It's thankful that you arrived when you did!"

Miraculous, really. Aaron wasn't too concerned. He had a pretty good idea of what sort of creatures to expect, and while they weren't harmless, by any stretch, there was no comparison to the battle which Jerin was leading them towards.

"You ready for this?" He asked his sister, who nodded, excitedly, eager to finally do something vaguely heroic. "How about you, thief?" he asked Mathias.

"Um.. sure..." the thief replied. Aaron narrowed his eyes once again at the newcomer, but had no time to question him further.

The older brother pulled the scared wizard aside, the door along with him, the feeble efforts at a barricade not hindering his efforts in the slightest. The frightened mouse promptly fled up the stairs as they stepped inside.

Webs everywhere. They covered the walls, the tables and chairs, between the stone supporting pillars and, of course, the many mice about. Previously studying their bizarre trades, they were now encased and frozen in poses of horror beneath the layers of gray silk. Aaron wasn't too worried about them. Spiders don't rush to finish off larger prey. Speaking of which, there were quite a few about, many downright tiny, hardly larger than a mouses hand, three of them about a head in size, and finally one which was working on cocooning a group of four paralyzed mice together, back to back. The creature clearly lead the attack. This one qualified as dangerously large, not quite mouse-sized, but close enough that the difference hardly mattered, eight bright-red gleaming eyes staring at the group, a deaths head of white hairs emblazoned across its swollen abdomen.

Jerin didn't hesitate to draw her sword, Aaron pulled out his hammer, and Mathias withdrew a small plastic knife from his cloak.

"I thought you were an archer." Aaron growled to him, but not taking his eyes off the many eight legged creatures who eyed the group hungrily and closed in from all sides. "Where's your bow? Was that just a lie to impress us?"

"Of course not! My bow is at home! I don't just walk around town with it!"

Aaron grunted in response, but couldn't really complain. It was true, it was considered poor form to walk around visibly armed unless on some sort of official duty. While not illegal, those who did this sort of thing usually not only intended to use such weaponry, but sought to advertise that fact.

All things considered, it was fortunate, but not shocking, that he had the knife on him. Plastic knives were not uncommon, with virtually every city mouse owning one, even if they didn't always carry them around. They weren't terribly effective weapons as they were quick to dull, easy to break and unless particularly well crafted, didn't fit very comfortably into the hand. They were little more than a jagged shard that had been scavenged and usually only given the most basic of modifications. They were, however, easy to resharpen, quite plentiful, and while the edge tended to be rather uneven, were still far more useful for both combat and general chores than working bare-handed. They also came in a variety of lovely colors, which was considered to be a nice bonus, these varieties being the more sought-after, although most, like the one Mathias currently held, were simply transparent and colorless.

"Ah, yesss. Mmmore commme to joinnn the feassst." the large spider said, seeming to smile around its mandibles. "Comme in, comme in, the morrre the merrrrierr."

Aaron tensed up a little at this. It wasn't unheard of for such monsters to be able to speak, but it was far from common. Those which could talk tended to be particularly old, particularly smart, and especially dangerous, not only possessing the natural weapons of it's brood, but displaying intelligence that was a non-trivial step above their typical base instincts.

"Looks a little crowded in here to me." Jerin said, stepping forward. "Plus, you made a real mess of this place. You've had your fun, I think it's time you headed home."

The smaller spiders backed away a few steps, but of course when one has so many legs, a single step is even less a significant distance than it would be for most creatures. They had the numbers advantage, but the fact that this strange mouse showed no signs of fear concerned them, not to mention the long blade she held within her paw which seemed to shine even within the gloomy chamber.

"Our funnn... is jussst beginninng..." the fiend said in a slow, deliberate voice. "Once I drainn the mmmagic from theese fooolish creaturres, I will be alll powerrfull." it tilted its head completely to one side, eyes focused on the girl. "Worrry not, girrl. I have a verrry big appetite. I'lll be surre to save room... forrr you and yourrr frrriends..."

The conversation ended abruptly as Jerin charged the large creature, catching Aaron and Mathias off guard, not even giving her brother a chance to warn her against rushing in. She ignored the other spiders, stepping around them, thrusting the long blade straight at the middle of their leader, aiming to run it through with a single strike. Instead, it rose up on it's frighteningly long legs, the edge heaving passed harmlessly beneath its body, and struck back at her.

The legs were nothing compared to her sword, but they were still strong, quick and dangerously pointed at the end, barely giving her enough time to pull her own blade back and parry the flurry of eight limbs which struck from all directions. The other spiders had begun to circle around her, a larger one rearing up behind her to strike before finding itself completely obliterated by Aaron's hammer. Mathias slashed at another nearby, not inflicting nearly so much damage, but forcing it to back away nonetheless.

The larger creature cackled, thrusting its round head forward, trying to bite into Jerin's face. Instead the arachnid got a mouthful of the side of the metal blade, and with a single quick motion from the girl, it was thrown backwards to the far end of the chamber. It giggled at her, eyes filled with malice, and scurried through the opposite doorway, each foot making a little tink sound as it stepped down the stone stairs.

"Wait, that thing's dangerous!" Aaron shouted to his sister, but it was already too late. She didn't hesitate to follow. He tried to rush in after her, only to find that the many smaller creatures were now blocking the passage, several more lowering themselves from the ceiling on translucent threads.

Meanwhile, Jerin found herself in an odd room. It was surrounded by stone columns, a circular wall presumably behind them, but largely shrouded in darkness. The entire chamber was lit by a suspended brazier at the center which slowly swayed, making the many shadows dance, approach and retreat from all directions. There were no furnishings or decorations of any sort, the room designed as a safe place to test out the more dangerous spells which the wizards had devised. An observant person might notice that the space had appeared to be suspiciously undamaged.

The large spider was nowhere to be seen, but this wasn't entirely surprising. Little more than the outlines of the columns were visible, and even they seemed to take turns, alternating between hidden and visible within the drifting source of light. She slowly stepped into the center of the room, beneath the open flame, hearing the soft chuckling which echoed from all around her.

"Come out and fight, you coward!" Jerin growled, looking all around for even the slightest sign of motion.

"I'mmm not herrre to fight." it said "I'mmm herree... to feeed." as a set of red eyes appeared straight ahead within the darkness. Jerin rushed in towards them, thrusting her blade forward, between two of the pillars, stabbing right between the eyes. There was nothing there, however. The glow of the eyes faded back into the darkness.

"Noot even cloose." it whispered, as the set of eyes reappeared on the other side of the room. Another appears at the corner, and another, and another, all staring at her, hungrily.

"Where are you..." Jerin grumbled between gritted teeth, tightly gripping the handle of her blade, holding it out in front of her. Between each pillar was now a sea of red eyes, the whole room echoing with the malicious laughter as she slowly stepped backwards, trying to keep as much of the chamber in view as possible.

She paused mid-step, between a pair of stone pillars and smiled. "Oh." she said, her tense expression having immediately melted away. "There you are."

"Huh?" it replied, letting out a surprised chitter as she thrusted her blade directly behind her, driving it into the darkened stone wall, between two of the creatures many legs. She missed the thorax by a hairs length, and spiders are known for their very short hairs. The countless sets of glowing red eyes instantly blinked out of existence. Well, all but one, of course. Within the shadows, the fiend already had it's mandibles open, ready to clamp down on the back of her neck, only to find itself paralyzed with fear. Sure, it could bite down in an instant, but that was an eternity compared to how quickly the blade had appeared to strike. The creature instinctively knew full well that it could be pulled back to strike again, with great lethality, before the spider could even begin to draw a breath.

"Creatures like you always strike from behind. I understand why, don't get me wrong, but it gets pretty predictable after a while." she turned her head to the side, smiling softly, not seeming to have a care in the world as she looked to the open jaws and eight wide eyes set above it. "Now, I forget. What exactly was your plan, again?"

The spider hesitated a moment, trying to force a kindly expression. It did so quite poorly, but in fairness, that's a rather tall order for a spider. "I wass... going tooo..." it said, the mouse continuing to stare over her shoulder, straight into its eyes. "Gooo hoome, and... speend time with my... faamily?" it said, "...aand... leeave these nicee maagess... alone?"

Jerin smiled a little wider and nodded her head in approval. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

The spider scurried away from her, climbing up a wall towards a large gap in the ceiling where it and its brethren had originally entered. I won't forget this, it thought to itself, I'll return one day, gather my forces, and then-

It stopped mid thought as it looked back in her direction, frozen by the angry glare of the mouse, and thought, then again, maybe that other plan is worth considering after all. It meekly vanished into the darkness, sliding a thick stone across the opening behind it. It was not like it had any intention of ever returning, after all. Maybe it had just moments before, but for whatever reason, that idea has since lost its appeal.

"Jerin, are you alright?" Aaron asked as he rushed down the stairwell into the spacious room, his hammer and clothing spattered with arachnid remains. Mathias quickly followed. His own methods of fighting were somewhat more surgical and considerably less messy, but still proved effective in their own right.

"Of course! I've got a dark lord to kill. Did you really think some stupid bug was going to hurt me?" she asked, still smiling proudly.

Aaron chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." he said. "Some of the students are helping to rescue the captives. It looks like they'll all be okay." he turned to Mathias. "Did you see your great grandfather up there?"

Mathias shook his head. "No, he lives further below, where the serious research is done."

Aaron sighed and nodded, not liking the sound of that one bit. At the far end of the round room, there was another wooden door leading to a final spiral staircase. This one felt almost impossibly long, going down seemingly forever, the scattered torches very few and far between, offering a brief oasis' of glow with the bulk of the trek taking place in varying degrees of gloom and outright darkness.

Unsettlingly far down, they finally reached a large metal door, which, much like the rest of these internal structures, was of very fine quality, a fact which further annoyed Aaron. It just seemed like such a waste. Mathias pulled it open with a loud creak, because that's just the sort of thing that old doors did, no matter how well crafted they were, when they lead to a magicians study. There's little to say about this place. Every member knew exactly what it would look like, and not one of them were mistaken in that knowledge. Lots of books, lots of dust, considerably more torches than in the previous hallway, and the occasional arcane oddity like jars of oddly colored liquid and the skulls of strange creatures decorating the wooden shelves. Not enough to quite give a mad scientist vibe, just there add a little distraction and variety. It was unknown how even the least violent of sorcerers and alchemists always seemed to get their hands on perfectly bleached skulls, but it was something that every credible arcanist owned at least a couple of.

The appearance of the wizard himself, who turned towards them with a confused expression, however, caught them off guard. It goes without saying that he looked old. Any wizard worth their salt looked old, a good one even having a few wrinkles and a stern expression back when they were infants. They similarly knew that he was Mathias' great-grandfather, which meant he must have been positively ancient (Mathias was a month older than Jerin, and her grandparents were already dead of old age. She'd never even met her great grandparents). Still, the mouse standing before them looked more like a lich than a man. In fact a lich would likely look considerably less decrepit. Reanimated corpses might not make for the most handsome of folks, but they did tend to be surprisingly sturdy. His large eyes were milky and grayed, seemingly blind at first glance, but he appeared to be able to follow their movements well enough. The flesh of the mouses face was clearly fighting a losing battle with gravity, seeming to cling to his skull by it's fingertips, but ready to fall away at any moment. As for his fur, it was something of a silvery white, and couldn't quite decide on whether it should be balding or grown excessively long, with clearly the two making a compromise. Patches of pale skin were visible through the long and often seemingly singular strands which ran down the neck of his robe and fell out through his sleeves, hanging from his exposed forearms, and running between his wrinkled fingers.

"Can I... help you?" he asked in a gravely voice, clearly unaccustomed to visitors.

"It's me, Mathias!" the thief said with a smile, taking the lead. His smile faded at the look of unfamiliarity which his greeting was met with. "Um... your great-grandson?"

Another brief moment of confusion, studying the young man closely, when it all seemed to snap into place. "Oh, yes, but of course. I did not recognize you without your glasses."

"Uh, I don't wear glasses."

"Precisely. Perhaps if you did, you would be more recognizable. Just something to consider." he said, looking his relative up and down. "You are looking good. Clearly have been eating well. Have you brought me the compendium of otherworldly artifacts? I sent you to retrieve it hours ago."

"That was two months ago... and I'm pretty sure you're holding it in your hand."

The wizard looked down at the wrinkled claw grasping the closed book, and nodded with approval. "Most impressive! To think that I was only expecting it an hour ago, yet somehow you made it arrive months early. Have you ever considered becoming a courier? I am certain that they could make great use such skills. Anyways, that is unimportant. For now, I must get this book to king Brumigan immediately."

"Um... King Brumigan died 11 months before I was even born. The current king is, uh, Lord Deathlocke Soulcrusher..." Mathias said, rather embarrassed to have to state such a silly name out loud.

The wizard looked shocked. "Really? Brumigan is dead? I did not even realize that he was sick. I suppose he will not need to read up on the otherworldly anymore, on the bright side."

Mathias chuckled and looked over to the siblings. He offered a nervous grin, worrying about this first impression. That concern proved to be unwarranted. Jerin was very much impressed, and as for Aaron, well, he didn't really tend to approve of much in general, so it was hardly unexpected. "Anyways, I'm just glad you're alright. I was worried that those spiders got to you."

The old mouse raised an eyebrow, or at least the flesh where normally an eyebrow would be. Raised might be a slight overstatement, as well, as it really just twitched slightly from the exertion. "Spiders, you say?"

"Yeah... there was an attack on the upper floors. A big battle, and we defeated them?"

The old man paused, staring at him and cleared his throat. "Oh yes, that, of course. Well, I appreciate the... rescue" he said, and might as well have been putting that final word in air quotes. "So, what brings you here? I hope you do not wish for me to revive King Brumigan. I would really hate to have to go through that hassle again."

"No, we came to ask you-"

"Are you a wizard?" Jerin burst into the conversation, hopping over to the old mouse, excitedly.

He smiled in response, holding out a shaking hand. "Indeed I am. Although we generally prefer 'arcanist' or 'sorcerer'. The term 'wizard' tends to bring a lot of stereotypes to mind, you see." he said, apparently unaware that he embodied the vast bulk of them.

She took his hand and shook it, perhaps a little bit too hard, flakes of his skin cracking away as she did so. "Oh, wow! I always wanted to meet a wizard!" she chirped, apparently not taking the words to heart. "Oh, I'm Jerin, mighty hero and adventurer!" she paused. "Wait, that should be the other way around. Should lead with the adventurer, and then work up to hero."

The elderly mouse nodded. "Ah, of course. You may still be young, but I can sense a great deal of untapped potential within you. It is clear that you are destined for great things." he said, releasing her paw. It is always nice to see a young person who has respect for their elders, he thinks, even if she did need to work on her listening skills. This wasn't to say that he regularly found himself disrespected, of course. Fear is a sort of respect, after all, even if it is the worst sort, in his opinion.

"We're looking for information on a dark lord." Mathias interjected. "The one that they call 'Midnight'. We were hoping you could help?"

The old mouse clucked his tongue, which sounded more like the knocking together of two dried pieces of wood. "That is not the sort of information that one should seek lightly. Knowledge is power, as they say, but there are some powers best not trifled with."

"It's really important! We need to find the dark lords lair as soon as possible!" Jerin said.

The wizard, sorry, sorcerer hummed. While far from the stereotypical lecherous old man, he always did have trouble saying no to a pretty face. One doesn't see many young girls down here, after all, and while there were, of course, female students and magicians, they weren't any more charming or sociable than the male ones. He stepped away, long reddish brown cloak dragging behind him, placing the book in his hand upon a nearly shelf, scanning through the assorted spines for something in particular, stopping once he had found it. A particularly heavy tome, the cover tattered, and inside filled with pages of uneven sizes and thickness, which he needed to carry in both hands. He set it down upon the large, round table at the center of the room, raising a cloud of dust in the process, beginning to search through the pages.

The three adventurers watched over his shoulder as page after page, each with a drawing of a strange and terrifying creature scrolled by, before he finally stopped. The text was a seemingly endless series of small doodles which the younger mice could read but would take a little while to properly parse, whereas an experienced scholar could run through it with great speed, even if not such great accuracy. With mouse writings, accuracy in translation was a very relative thing, after all. Mathias was unable to tell whether or not this was the correct page. As for Aaron and Jerin, they were both immediately certain. Within the top corner was a drawing of the dark lord, painted in black ink, it's four legged body long and slinky, a thin tail curled behind it, pointed ears atop its angular face. It lacked the strange distortion effect which the pair had seen on the day of the attack, but it was clear that this was indeed the dark lord, Midnight. The only detail missing was the terrifying green of its eyes.

"That's it." Jerin said, her face more than a little pale. "That's the one."

"Midnight, said to be one of the oldest and mightiest of the dark lords. Seldom appears, but leaves much death and destruction in his wake. Male, feline type, named for his black fur and rumored ability to command the powers of darkness and shadow."

"Wait, dark lords can be male and female?" Jerin asked.

"Of course they can." Aaron responded, although, in truth, this was news to him as well.

"Indeed. They can even birth children, but mercifully, that doesn't seem to happen very often. This one is extremely dangerous. Ancient, by our standards, but still very much in its prime. No known lairs or prowling routes." the old man replied.

"It has to live somewhere." Jerin said, fixated on the picture.

"Of course. Most likely it lives within the shrine of a Maker, only going outside to occasionally hunt."

Aaron ground his teeth. It was one thing to fight a dark lord, but it was another entirely to need to get into a shrine. True, there were a few tunnels that lead into some of the massive structures, but most of those homes were built like fortress', and nearly impossible to enter. Still most likely an easier task that the aforementioned battle, but he would prefer to not stack so many insurmountable tasks atop one another. This would have been good news were his sister were a little less hard-headed, but he knew that it would take far more than this to discourage her.

The connection between the Makers and the dark lords was no secret. Part of the reason that such creatures were given such a grand title was not only because they were fearsome, but because they were seen as some sort of higher beings, some stage between mice and Maker, and often seen at the side of the large bipeds. There were some mice out there said to even secretly worship the dark lords, praying to them in hopes of remaining safe, or smiting their enemies. While none would publicly confess to this, many suspected that the numbers were actually quite high. After all, there is something to be said for a God which you know is capable of providing results, even if they are evil beings.

"What else does it say about him?" Jerin asked.

"Nothing. That is all the information that we have."

"Wait, that's it?" Aaron said in an annoyed voice, which was rapidly growing to become his default tone.

"Every page of this book, and those like it were written with the blood of countless researchers." he said, adding once he sees Jerin's mortified expression, "Not literally, of course. These creatures have strong eyes, ears and noses, quick reflexes, and are virtually impossible to safely observe. There have always been those who were fascinated by such beings, eager to see them, to study them, to learn from them. While some have returned with invaluable intelligence, they all paid the price for their curiosity, usually sooner than later."

The four mice stood silently until Jerin finally spoke up. "We're going to destroy him. We can't let an evil like that continue to exist."

Aaron immediately felt embarrassed. It just sounded so... so stupid when said aloud like that, especially since it was just made perfectly clear just how deadly such monsters were. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had just said 'I' instead of 'we'.

The old mouse didn't laugh at her, but did do his best impression of raising an eyebrow once again. "Really? And do you believe that you can succeed? You would not be the first to attempt such a feat, of course. Far from it. None of those crusades in the past had proved even close to being successful, however."

"I do." she said, plainly, her paw gripping the hilt of the sword in her belt.

The sorcerer gave a light nod. He didn't look down at the sword, as he didn't need to. He could already tell that it was there, and that it was, indeed, powerful. "Well, in that case, all that I can do is wish you good fortune."

Aaron growled. "What? Aren't you going to try to talk her out of this?"

The old man smiled once more, casting a side-eye to the larger brother, before looking back to Jerin. "Would that work? Is there some magical combination of words which, if said just right, could make you decide to give up on your quest and return home?" he asked.

Jerin frowned. "No, of course not."

"Well then, I fail see why I should bother. Clearly it would be a waste of time, and time is something that we only have so much of, myself in particular." he paused, resting his chin on his gnarled hand, seemingly in deep thought. "I do wish there was something more that I offer to help, however. Some potion or blessing that could assist you, but I cannot think of any which would make a real difference."

"You can come with us! Mathias says you're a super powerful wizard, and I'm sure that your magic would be a huge help!"

Aaron was, for hardly the first time, stunned. He was sure that the idea would have left her head when she actually saw how clearly decrepit the mouse was. He didn't look fit to make it up the stairwell, let alone fight a potentially invincible beast. He should have known better, however, than to think any ideas ever left her head. It was amazing how it was consistently both empty and very crowded at the same time.

"He was not mistaken." The sorcerer said. "Well, aside from the 'wizard' part, of course. As great as my powers might be, however, They are nothing compared to those of a dark lord."

"You don't need to be as strong as Midnight. That doesn't mean you can't help though! Even I might not be as strong as the dark lord, but that doesn't mean we can't win." she paused, suddenly taking on an uncharacteristically guilty expression. "Um, sorry, you don't have to. I know you're not a warrior, and it was kind of dumb to ask you to risk your life out of nowhere. I've sure you've got far more important things to do." she gave him a soft smile, turning to walk away, when he placed a withered hand down upon her furred shoulder.

This caught even him by surprise. The elderly mouse had no intentions of ever again leaving these chambers, let along partaking in some ridiculous quest, but that last sentence of hers had stung him deeply, completely unknown to the young adventurer.

"I swear, young people today are always in such a rush. Off to go and fight, and could not even be bothered to ask my name? It is Rowan, by the way." he said, a delighted glimmer in his milky eyes. "And I would love nothing more than to aid you on your journey."

"Are you sure about this? You know you could die, right?" Aaron asked.

Rowan chuckled in response, the sound coming out a dry clicking. "Young man, do I honestly look like the sort of person who would be frightened by the fact that they might die?"

Aaron couldn't really argue with that. The man before him looked old enough to send death to bed without supper for misbehaving. There were likely no shortage of everyday tasks which were a life or death struggle at that age. The real concern was he might slow them down, but seeing as how Aaron was happy with this journey going a slowly as possible, that was hardly a legitimate fear. Plus, as much as he hated to think it, there was something to be said for knowing that, if things go poorly and retreat is necessary, you aren't the slowest runner of the group.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Mathias asked, looking more than a little bit concerned. It had been a while since he'd come to visit, and his last living relative was certainly not looking his best.

"You need not worry about me. I am significantly healthier than I look." the elderly mouse replied, his lips trembling around his missing teeth in an effort to smile.

Aaron couldn't argue with that, either. After all, it was virtually impossible for him to be any less healthy than he looked. While still slightly concerned, Mathias had no intention or arguing with the senior, Jerin, even less so, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Rowan might crumble into dust at the first breath of fresh air.

I guess this is really happening, huh? Aaron thought to himself. Somehow, this silly little kid managed to get complete strangers willing to help fight and die for her, and she barely even tried. While still extremely worried, there was still the smallest hint of pride there, as well. She clearly was something special, he couldn't deny that. He just couldn't imagine that being enough. The world was full of special people, after all, and they all died like everyone else. Often far sooner than the ordinary ones, in fact.

At this very moment, in a distant location, another meeting was about to take place. A sleek, black figure slipped in under the concrete steps of the Maker's shrine, the space under the home dark, cool and very much secluded. It extended the claws of a single paw, scratching at the empty air. The idea of wounding the air may seem absurd to most, but it left scars all the same, as it would upon a solid object. Three crimson streaks appeared in place which swelled and bled into one another forming a misshapen orb of red energy. The image within was heavily distorted, the red grow twisting and rippling like water, but within the orb, the figures of four mice conversing could clearly be seen. The dark lord smiled, looking past the strange portal of energy, as two more creatures approached from the shadows.

"It would appear that forces are aligning against us." he said with an amused tone.

"If you think they're any sort of threat, you're seriously overestimating them." a larger feline, almost seeming to glow within the shadowed crawlspace replied in a melodic, feminine voice.

"Oh, I don't expect them to be a source of danger. I expect they will be a source of great fun." the black cat replied.

"I think you're still overestimating them." A gruff and tired voice said, each step of it's heavy paws raising dust before it finally flopped down in front of the shimmering image.

"You two just have no sense of adventure. I'll admit, they might not look like much, but I've got a good feeling that these next few days-" the dark lord said, raising his clawed paw once more, raking it horizontally across the red glow, cutting the already wounded space directly across the image of Jerin into three pieces, which wavered and faded from view. "These next few days will be days to remember."