Return To Origin E-Book

Chenerah "Kecar" Gajaze

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 380

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

After the human kind is successfully repelled, peace slowly returns to AlphaVul. The aged shepherd dog Chenerah, who avenges the death of his friend Amarok, resigns and regrets the outcome of his companions' story. After several years, the dog meets the young wolf king Rexion, who gives him the decisive flash of inspiration, which should make it possible to change time at its origin. The journey takes Chenerah to Gaja, ancient Egypt, over 2000 years into the past. The reason for the creation of his world, his being and his connection to the "Architect", the builder of his history, is revealed to him (and thus also to the author) in some fundamental perceptions. The remaining riddles of the story unravel and order the mind of the author, who does not let his protégé out of his sight and stands in his way, changing his own book. The shepherd goes on a mission that could not be more serious and significant for him, just to realize that time is something that repairs and orders itself. In final encounters with the ancient Egyptian god Yanepu (Anubis) and his Gajan creator Chenerah fulfills the destiny predetermined for him since the beginning, makes peace in the spirit of the creator and closes the circle, which contains the origin and the end of his world equally.

Leseprobe

Chenerah "Kecar" Gajaze

Return

To

Origin

Vulpes Lupus Canis III

Vulpes Lupus Canis

Novel

Imprint:

Text: © 2023 Copyright by Chenerah Gajaze

Translation:Kristina Čulić Gajić & Aleksandar Gajić

Cover: © 2020 Copyright by Marion Morgenroth

www.marion-morgenroth.de

Publisher:

Chenerah Gajaze

Vogelsbergstraße 25

36399 Freiensteinau (Germany)

[email protected]

Printing: epubli - a service of neopubli GmbH, Berlin

ISBN Hardcover:978-3-757563-44-8ISBN Softcover:978-3-757563-46-2 ISBN E-Book:978-3-757563-47-9

The work, including its parts, is protected by copyright. Any exploitation is prohibited without the consent of the publisher and the author. This applies in particular to electronic or other reproduction, translation, distribution and making publicly available.

Great noise is followed by silence

in a world that should never have existed.

My body trembles, for a storm

rages in my spirit.

Everything rears up trembling

for the last time,

so that the last

bit of life from my

war ravaged body can flee

and excavated graves are filled.

"If you wonder who is speaking out of you,

go into yourself, hear the plea.

It warns you, so don't do it.

Your courage, it will pass away."

Chenerah "Kecar" Gajaze

Content:

Prologue

XXI. Rexion

XXII. Journey to the origin

XXIII. Fathers and sons

XXIV. The piece of sugar

XXV. The fire of souls

XXVI. Innocent lives

XXVII. Seeds for the world

XXVIII. The last fight

XXIX. Unification

Epilogue

Prologue

A heavy blow whose pain passes: now I have killed the second of my three sons, him on my conscience. Chenerah, the dog, is the last of them.

He is now given a task which I myself was not able to fulfill: He must clean up my mind, put it together and finally provide silence in my ending life.

I have a problem: he is freed from his strings and is no longer a puppet of his master. When I let him make his own decisions, stopped directing him, I already knew it: this male was aware of his sovereignty, strength and dedication to his world.

It was going to be harder to impose my will on him, and my time would become increasingly short. I must watch him more intensely, follow his every step. If I lose sight of him for just a brief moment, everything I once wrote this book to do will be in jeopardy.

Also, I now feel an irrepressible rage in him, combativeness, vindictiveness, deep anger.

I gladly admit that I can understand him. Although he knows that all the previous events were important events on the way to peace, he still wants to repay me for my deeds as the architect of his world.

I took Joliyad and Amarok from him, and with my presumption and arrogance made him a being who had eaten the fruit from the tree of knowledge and now has to live with the grave consequences.

But I am one thing above all: curious. Curious about how Chenerah Gajaze will now continue his story. Although I can intervene to a limited extent, I also know that he will use every opportunity to defy me. That is his nature and should be no different. Even that is what I want.

Between you and me, you, dear reader, who still stands by my side, are safe. Even a Kecar can't hurt you. As for me, however, I'm not so sure. Rest assured that although I won't mince words, I'll try to teach you self-understanding as gently as possible.

I assume that you have not lost your courage. That is good. I know it wasn't easy to read the last pages of the second third of my story. Certainly, I could have worded some things a little more gently. But I have decided not to start putting on rose-colored glasses in the first place.

The human mind does not know only love, understanding and kindness. There is so much more, so much darkness. It, too, is a part of our being. For this very reason, I have taken it upon myself for this part of my story to describe the deeds of my loved ones and the actions in my world exactly as they happened (from my point of view).

Be warned, because it also follows again now: honesty.

Now let's see what this Alsatian will do. Let's follow him undetected.

Believe me: I am as clueless as you are.

XXI. Rexion

A

marok, Chenerah's friend, lover, protagonist - he was dead. So was Joliyad and many other wolves and foxes. They were all irretrievably lost. The war had claimed countless victims. Victims that Chenerah had sent all to their doom. He regretted it, again and again. But the fact was that all the events could not be changed.

That was now 16 years ago, past, also irretrievable. The shepherd dog was now 48 years old, and you could see it in his face: The fur of his muzzle was now grayed, some whiskers white, the eyelids looked tired and every day the gray hairs in his fur coat became more. He was still very strong, but his gait was a bit stiffer than before and he wagged his tail less often than usual.

Chenerah sat in his kitchen at the dining table and looked out the window into the small garden. It was autumn, and so the small trees bore colorful foliage. A light breeze blew some of them onto the lawn, whose blades of grass, damp with rain, yielded to the wind chime.

The dog was thoughtful. What had brought all this? The great showdown, which he had only barely survived, had changed many things: Humans were now decimated, their kin countable. Thus, the joint government of Arameria, consisting of foxes and wolves, decreed that Gajans had to register. Those who did not follow were imprisoned, and it was at the discretion of the authorities which of them could stay or settle where.

The empire of the foxes was no longer called Arameria, but "Republic of Aram-Samojedan-Eria" since a few years. What a name. It included the winner of the long war. Although there was still a body of politicians, scientists and aristocrats, which was allowed to decide the fate of the country, it was not sovereign. Everything had to be done in agreement with the monarchy of Samojadja, which now had a new, young king.

Rexion was the child born of Serena's rape of Amarok. He was now 16 years old and ascended the throne at the age of 14. Serena, who still held the reins firmly in her hands as queen-regent, prepared her son to lead her nation on his own in the near future.

Chenerah had never met him, but had heard that he must be a very good-natured and patient wolf. The shepherd dog was not interested in world politics, because he had already fulfilled his task many years ago: He and his fellow wolves had devastatingly defeated the Gajans. With Amarok's death, the Aramerians felt satisfaction, surrendered and thus limited damage.

Peace had returned to AlphaVul.

Truth in silence.

Dialogue after the dispute.

Respect for each other.

One could not speak of a friendship of nations, but all parties involved had agreed with the outcome of the fighting, the male still remembered it clearly. His people remained in Alsatiania and he himself watched over the Ispocetka, because he no longer trusted the leader of his tribe.

"Oh dear, so much mail again," spoke the Kecar as he opened the mailbox and was met by a large load of writing.

Very often, even after all these years, he received letters of thanks from various corners of the three empires involved in the war. Many revered him, thanked him for his service. Sometimes, even females wrote to him, proposed marriage and enclosed obscene pictures with their love letters. Didn't they know that he ...?

In the meantime, he had gotten into the habit of sorting out the obvious envelopes without opening them. This writing, the ensnaring and licking of some anthros was getting on his nerves by now. What else did they want from him? He did what he had to do then - that was all. That was nothing he was proud of or imagined. Besides, he had not fought alone. Who paid homage to the deceased nowadays, except on specially designated memorial days?

Finally, only a few letters remained, and besides a few advertising and official letters, one envelope in particular caught the male's eye: The address of the aged dog, who now lived permanently in Alsatiania, was printed in gold letters of his native language and a border of the same color adorned the paper.

He looked curious as he slowly opened the envelope, almost knocking over his cup of coffee in the process. He took out a noble-looking letterhead, written in Alsatiani in neat, beautiful handwriting. On it shone the flag of the royal house of Samojadja: a blue background against which the silhouettes of three male feral wolves in different colors were placed. Their two-dimensional bodies were decorated by a cross, a heart and an anchor. Next to each pictogram could be read a Latin word: Fides, Amor, Spes. They meant faith, love and hope.

Looking at the flag, Gajaze pondered and sighed: it was he who had thought up the wolves' emblem of dominion as the flag of their nation when he had started writing his book many years ago. Now that he was no longer the ruler of everything, not knowing when the story of the foxes, wolves and dogs would end, it seemed strange to him to have his own creation, this logo, in front of him. It also seemed strange to him that he was now no longer the omniscient narrator, but had to shape his life like everyone else, in uncertainty about the future.

His thoughts ended and intently he read what someone had written to him in squiggly handwriting:

Dear Kecar,

honored sovereign of the Alsatian Empire,

This is not a love letter, a declaration of friendship or a song of praise to you. You are reading an invitation to get to know each other.

I would like to thank you personally for your service to our nations, to our entire world. This has not happened yet, which I truly regret. It has taken me a few years to understand what you have done and what all this means for all our lives.

You knew my father, Amarok. Unfortunately, I cannot say that about myself. Therefore, I would like to ask you to tell me about him and his time with you at a meeting.

This is an invitation, a request, not a command.

But I would be very pleased if you would accept this offer and let me know when and where we can meet in a friendly way.

This has been discussed with my mother, the Queen Regent. She has expressly agreed - even advocated - a meeting between us.

I hope you will honor me soon, for I am sure you will have much to tell me, just as I will have many questions for you.

In esteem, respect and curiosity about who you are.

This paper was signed by none other than the king of Samojadja: Rexion.

Immediately the dog noticed that the monarch must have discarded the etiquette of the court, according to which one always spoke of oneself in the pluralis majestatis. He was also surprised by the ease with which Rexion had written. He offered him a conversation, was curious and grateful at the same time.

Even though Chenerah was not politically involved, he had appropriate respect for the wolfish monarchy. They were each other's neighbors, the nations of Samojadja and Alsatiania were closely connected. So why should it not be that he accepted this invitation and, in turn, drafted a terse letter announcing his coming?

Surely he had many things to tell his former friend's son about his father. Also, some things would become uncomfortable. However, Gajaze knew that it was also part of the young monarch's growing up that he needed to know the whole truth about everything he had questions about. Talking to the young wolf would also help him come to terms with the past, put everything to rest, and regain inner peace.

When Chenerah arrived in Lunea, he looked around: All the damage that the war had inflicted on this city had been repaired. He had not been here for a long time. It would never have occurred to him that this place could ever have looked any different. Lunea was neat, orderly, and prepared. Everything was as it had always been. Just as the Wolf Queen wanted to see this place.

In the meantime, the tarred streets that the Gajan had laid out, had been removed again. Many things were dismantled, some had been integrated into the cityscape - as long as it seemed useful to the queen. Here it was wolfish again, free of people. In contrast to Arameria, Samojadja, like the neighboring country of Alsatiania, tolerated no earthlings on its soil. All the humans who had survived the battle, there had to be about 3000, were now in the Fox Empire, almost exclusively in the west. They were defeated and under control. Soon, the news said, their deportation back to Gaja would begin. Before the end of the year, AlphaVul would be completely free of Earthlings.

Arriving at the palace, Chenerah was now standing in front of the garden gate.

A servant looked snobbishly through his glass box and asked hoarsely, "Yes, please?"

"I am Chenerah Gajaze and I have to speak with His Majesty the King. I am announced."

"Please wait. We need to check this," the wolf said, typing away on a keyboard.

After a moment, he said, "Very well, Lord Sovereign. Good day to you," and allowed the dog to enter through the gate.

"Lord Sovereign my ass, Wolf!" grumbled Chenerah crossly, but this did not impress the guard commander.

Gajaze opened the door to the great hall and looked at the empty throne. Rexion and Serena were a little late, he thought, but used the time to look around.

"Everything is still as I wrote it down. Fascinating," he spoke quietly to himself, looking at the pictures of the heirs to the throne from times past.

Suddenly, a youthful male voice broke the silence, "Ah, there you are!"

The dog was startled and turned around. He looked into the face of a young wolf who was now standing in front of him.

Eyes wide open, he stammered, "Y-you're Rexion? The Rexion? Amarok's son?"

The wolf grinned.

It was impossible, but for a moment the Alsatian felt he was looking directly into the face of Amarok, his friend. Rexion was the same age when Amarok's story began, and he looked uncannily like him.

"What's the matter with you?" asked the amused one when the elder did not close the catch again. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you all right?"

"It ... it's nothing, your majesty. Forgive me," the dog spoke, whereupon the smiling young wolf offered to follow him with a gesture of his hand and a slight bow.

"Come on, Kecar, let's go for a walk in the garden."

"With pleasure, your Majesty."

When they arrived at the garden, Chenerah noticed its size, and that there were many shrubs and flying insects. It was windless, only slightly cloudy, a beautiful autumn day.

"My mother sends her regards, Chenerah. I'm afraid she couldn't wait. The Aramerians and we are negotiating in many different corners. Jeremia desires sole rule over her realm, but we want to ensure that Arameria continues on the path toward meritocracy and does not become a dictatorship once again. You know, politics never sleeps."

"A meritocracy?" the elder asked. "I assumed that Arameria would one day become a democracy."

"For two years already, it has been calling itself meritocratic. There may still be a long way to go to complete transformation, but we are working to ensure that in the future there will be a form of government there that can be called independent and reasonable. Therefore, the merits of the individual should also count, no longer a birthright or martial strength. Opportunities, we wish, should be equal for all, and rewards should be given to those who truly deserve it."

The dog grinned and agreed: "Yes, I understand. I sincerely hope that Jeremia will also come to terms with this idea. There are many duties as a regent of one state, which must now provide for another in addition. Didn't you want to accompany your mother? After all, Samojadja will soon be your country."

"Oh, you know, these things are always so troublesome," the King rebuffed, making a dismissive gesture with his hand as he walked, "and besides, the foxes are always annoying with their demands. I don't mind that they don't want to give up their pride, but still, sometimes they go quite overboard. You know them. I believe that their empire can become a true meritocracy before the end of this decade and get a new addition to its name - if everyone joins in, that is. Then we should have officially established the first meritocratic republic on AlphaVul."

The dog nodded thoughtfully and then asked, "How is it that you don't speak in the pluralis majestatis like your mother, your majesty? I noticed it in your letter, so I thought I would ask you about it."

Rexion assigned the elder a seat on a wooden bench and sat down as well. He let his gaze wander and leaned back, relaxed.

"My mother taught me that it makes sense to show respect to strangers and friends. However, I don't want to address myself as I would a stranger or friend. That wouldn't be me. I'm not a 'we', I'm just a 'me'. It may bend tradition a bit, but it does not break it. I would also like to offer you the 'you'. I am Rexion, not 'Your Majesty,' not to you, who are a hero and, moreover, an Alsatian, not one of my subjects."

This attitude and the offer that followed visibly surprised the person in question. Perplexed, he nodded and asked that the Wolf King also address him by his first name.

"So it's a deal, then," the wolf rejoiced, adding that politics would work that way, too.

"So, Chenerah. Tell me who my father was. What was he like?" he then asked.

The dog sighed and pondered. Where should he start?

"My mother has already told me many things, about everything that happened years ago. She met my father here, in this castle, gave him honorary citizenship. Later, he helped her get into the bunker below the Leader’s headquarters in Bolemare. Oh, what am I talking about, you know all this anyway. After all, you are the architect. Or rather, you used to be."

"Rexion ... I ... If you know about it, if Serena told you all this, then surely you know that your father and I ... and how we once parted," the shepherd stammered, lowering his head.

But, unlike expected, the young wolf remained very calm and composed: he shrugged his shoulders and only uttered a questioning "And?".

"But Rexion ... That all this happened is my fault. I wrote this story. I mean, me as a human being on Gaja. It is very complicated, but I am responsible for everything bad in this world. So, as well as his death. I'm sorry - I really am," the shepherd apologized and his eyes became moist.

"Chenerah, whatever happened: I know that the Gajan snatched control of our world from you. Everything that happened after that is not your fault. The thing is, if my mother hadn't had sex with my father, I wouldn't be here."

"That may be," Gajaze agreed, "but it's also true that it was rape and that Amarok had no intention of becoming a father. She wouldn't have told you that, would she?"

"Sure she did. She can't explain it, but I assume that she was directed by Jadja's spirit. Because I also know that she killed her and that the goddess went into her."

"I'm surprised how easy it is for you to deal with all of this. In fact, you should hate me. Everything I wrote down at some point led to Amarok's death. It would seem understandable to me if you had something like sheer hatred in you."

The younger one sighed and looked at a petal lying on the ground.

They were silent for a while, after which the King asked his counterpart, "Are you joking? I have hated you for a very long time. I swore I would have you executed if I ever met you in person."

The Alsatian gulped.

"Yet," the King continued, "I could not. After I understood all this, there was no longer any reason to be angry. My father was angry. I can understand his reaction, too. But that's how the actions ultimately led to me existing. Now, at some point, it is up to me to lead this realm. And I do not intend to become a despot or begin my reign by assassinating an old friend of my nation."

Again he smiled.

Chenerah, however, could not believe it: This wolf, visually so similar to Amarok, was quite different from the latter: he was understanding, calm, and did not seem to feel hatred in the slightest. Surely he would become a great, righteous King whom the people loved.

"I don't even know how to answer that, Rexion," he admitted. "I had assumed you were angry, filled with hatred, and bent on revenge. But that doesn't seem to be the case. How is it that you are ... so different?"

The monarch stood up and Chenerah did the same. Again, they walked a little and were silent for a moment. All the while, Gajaze looked sheepishly at the ground, which his companion noticed and suddenly put his hand on his shoulder.

"All is well," he said, punctuated by a surprised look from the dog. "Isn't it everyone's wish that future generations learn from the mistakes of their predecessors and become more understanding so they don't happen again?"

Now the Alsatian also smiled and raised his head again: "You are absolutely right. I have made mistakes. We all have, somehow. Some things went wrong, were intended differently. These things just happened and can't be changed."

"Then we should all learn from them so that they don't happen again. They say that history happens again and again in a similar form. But if we are strong enough, work on ourselves, then we can make sure it doesn't. We break the cycle."

The males strolled back to the castle and Rexion spoke to one of his servants, "The Lord Sovereign and I are going out. Please see that the Queen is informed that it will probably be late."

"Of course, your majesty!"

The shepherd dog was pleasantly surprised when the King smiled at him and said: "Come, Chenerah. Let's go have a drink and talk about your troubled history and all of our futures. I'll show you how wolves really party."

"Very well, Rexion," he received back approvingly from his counterpart, and so they walked toward downtown.

Meanwhile, the young monarch asked the dog soldier about Amarok, saying that he was also a hero for him. He wanted to know everything about him: what he liked, what his characteristics were, his relationship with Chenerah.

"I'm sorry, but I have to pester you. After all, I also want to understand why I am the way I am."

The Alsatian spoke calmly, "That's all right. Enlightenment about history should be important for each of us. Your father was a brave wolf who wanted to hand himself over just to let the strife of nations end."

An inner anger stirred in him when he had to admit that Amarok's plan failed, however, because Artos, then his best friend and brother in spirit, supported the dastardly plan of the leader and Jeremia, who let Amarok walk into a trap.

"Artos was my last casualty of this war, after all," he grumbled, catching sight of one of the king's fangs.

He understood immediately, but wanted to know what had happened right after his father's death.

"Let's have a drink first, Rexion. I think after a glass or two of copa'che my tongue will loosen up and I'll find it easier."

The wolf nodded in agreement.

In a marketplace, a few paces away, Chenerah saw a statue whose posture struck him as unusual.

"Rexion, I'd like to take a look at that, if that's all right," he spoke, walking towards it, spellbound.

"Of course," spoke the wolf and followed.

Standing in front of the supposed statue, the Alsatian recognized the face of the former leader of Arameria.

"Is that ...?" he began his question, but was interrupted by his companion, "Yes, that's Radovan Kardoran, right."

"He looks so real," the older man remarked.

"That's because he is, my friend."

"What, really?"

Gajaze unlocked the catch and remembered the last images described in the first third of Vulpes Lupus Canis: The lifeless body of the despot was recovered by soldiers from the central tower in Bolemare - as a trophy, as one could read in the story.

"You preserved it and put it here?" the shepherd asked, revealing bewilderment.

Rexion looked thoughtfully up at the fixed body standing on a pedestal and reflected, "Yes, this man has killed thousands of Samoyedans, done heinous things. He has my father's friend, Joliyad, on his conscience - as well as himself, though not directly."

"I did write down myself that Samoyedans took Radovan, but I did not think of ever seeing him again. For me, that was done," Chenerah explained. "Don't you think that's a little distasteful yourself? He's dead. Don't you want to let him rest in peace?"

The King's tone became more serious as he did not look at his interlocutor, but still looked up, "I know what you are thinking, Chenerah. How can such a nice guy be so cruel and display his former enemy like a trophy?"

"Rexion, I didn't mean that."

"No, it's all right. I'll be happy to explain. This fox does not deserve peace. We wolves - and by that I mean my people and myself - will never forget what he has done, never forgive him. He shall serve as a warning to the foxes, so that they will never start another war with us. It is also to encourage my people to stand up whenever there is oppression and torment. In order for history not to endlessly go around in circles of repetition, it needs continual exhortation."

They then walked on, with the Sovereign agreeing with the Wolf King, "I understand that this is important to you, that it is important to your people. I might not have presented it that way, but if it is everyone's wish to be admonished, then so be it. Well, I was just a little surprised. That is all. It's not a condemnation and it's not meant to spoil our evening to come. Let's change the subject and just celebrate, okay?"

The wolf nodded and so after a short while they found themselves in front of a bar from which music, laughter and voices came.

They sat down at the counter and Rexion explained to Gajaze that everything that would be incurred that evening would be on the royal house's account, "Eat and drink whatever you like. Take plenty, because we certainly won't get together again this young."

"Ha, me and young!" the dog rebuffed.

"Well, you've done all right," spoke the King, winking with a smile.

Also smiling, the dog nodded gently and turned to the bartender. The bartender had previously bowed to his regent and took the hand signal of the Kecar as an opportunity to put two glasses and a bottle.

The music that surrounded them was lively, joyful and consisted mainly of flute, violins and drums. The guests here were equally cheerful, which Gajaze took to mean that the war must already be almost forgotten. They were all peaceful, amused and relaxed, drinking beer and wine. The drink, which had always characterized the Vulpes Lupus Canis, was also not to be missed here.

"This year the kopa'chekas taste extremely sweet, as you are about to discover, Chenerah," Rexion spoke, almost having to shout as the music threatened to choke his calm voice.

"Oh yeah?" the sheepdog grinned mischievously. "A little more alcohol, then, to keep the sweetness from taking over, right?"

He nodded to the bartender, who pulled another bottle from under the counter and set it in front of them.

"A little hooch and a lot more copa'che, please!" the regent spoke, and Gajaze filled their glasses with the mixture.

They raised their goblets, with Rexion following Samoyedan custom and offering a toast: "Here's to you, Chenerah! To the liberation of our world from man and war! To us and a fun and educational evening!"

The canine sovereign also raised his glass, nodded in agreement, and added that he was glad to have accepted the King's invitation: "It's good that you have dissolved my solitary status with your desire for a meeting. After all, you are nicer than I had assumed. Here's to us and this evening, then!"

Immediately they finished their glasses in one go, which reminded the elder of a moment from his past: many years ago he had saved Amarok's life and revealed to him the truth about his world. Back then, too, he faced a young wolf. However, the situation was different: His friend was devastated, had just killed the Aramerian tyrant, and had also lost his childhood sweetheart Joliyad to him.

The males drank, laughed and talked about each other. Rexion had not spent as many years as Chenerah on AlphaVul, but could tell very amusing, but sometimes also thoughtful, philosophical things.

As life played out, as fate would have it, Gajaze now spent the evening with the son of one of his protagonists. And he gave the dog the impression that his personality was an overlap of Amarok's and Joliyad's: Rexion was very educated, polite, seemed honest and understanding. He was curious and inquisitive, knew good nature and sincerity.

Chenerah was secretly excited about him, about what he would one day mean for the kingdom of Samojadja: The wolves, should his personality not change too much, would love him! The people loved their present queen, Serena - there was no doubt about that. But as soon as the young wolf ruled alone, they would even worship him.

With a loosened tongue, the Kecar then spoke, "You are a good one, oh yes."

"No," said the King, "only what you once made of me. The good has come from your spirit."

Restrictively, his crony agreed, "Yes, but from the mind of a Gajan who doesn't care about his friends and role models!"

The shepherd felt the alcohol and imagined, even Rexion noticed, that the Kopa'che was having an effect, which was amplified by the additional booze. In fact, Chenerah didn't tolerate as much as he used to. The young wolf was not used to alcohol anyway and had to search for the right words more and more often.

After they had continued talking for a while, their reason, restraint and seriousness turned into a drinking contest. Under the eyes of the guests sitting next to them, they tipped a few glasses into themselves one after the other and ordered three new bottles.

However, the evening did not threaten to tip in its basic mood, but merely to become long.

"Chenerah, dog!" exclaimed Rexion, hugging the elder, whereupon a few guests turned to him and chuckled softly.

"Yes!" replied the addressed one happily slurring his words and returning the embrace. "I am a dog, a mutt, you wolf! His wolfishness! Uh, Your wolfishness!"

Then Rexion had to laugh, loosened the embrace and shook himself amused: "His wolfishness! Ha ha! For all I've been told. That hasn't been there yet."

Chenerah also laughed and they both briskly emptied their glasses again.

Later, when the mood in the bar was even surpassed, it culminated in some of the drinkers moving chairs aside and starting to dance. Many of them clapped to fast drum rhythms and celebrated while howling again and again as if they were feral, primal wolves.

Yes, Kopa’che even today always led to the fact that its drinkers gained knowledge, but forgot it again at the moment of drinking, because of its alcohol content.

Today this brew was flowing in streams, in which Chenerah and Rexion had a great share and were happy to dance with the other Samoyedans.

Soon the pub had to close and in a slight stupor, King Samojadja, like a normal citizen, paid his bill and the anthros headed home.

"If you like, you can stay with me and sleep it off, Chenerah," the wolf offered, but the sheepdog declined with thanks.

He said that he already found his way home, not that drunk at all: "But still, thank you for this great evening, Rexion. It was very funny. I haven't laughed so heartily in a very long time."

"Too bad," the King regretted, "but I can't force you, can I? Or should I?"

He grinned, which his counterpart did likewise.

"Maybe ... for one last drink," Chenerah then suddenly changed his mind.

So they went back to the palace, where they were greeted by a servant.

"My King, there you are! Your mother has already gone to sleep. She said you would talk to each other tomorrow."

"It's fine, thank you. The Lord Sovereign is staying here today. We'll make ourselves comfortable and have another drink."

"Very well!" the other wolf nodded and bowed.

"Ah," remarked the Kecar, "so I'm staying here today. I see. I thought I'd just come in for one last drink."

"Well," Rexion spoke up, "I didn't mention how big the glasses we were drinking from would be."

Once again, he winked mischievously at the elder, a gesture that made him seem very sympathetic in the eyes of the Alsatian.

The males walked up a wide, stone staircase and came into a large room flooded with cozy-looking, inviting light.

"Nice place you have here," the dog praised and looked around.

There were many paintings of past times: Palaces, pomp, nobles, nature and still life. They were things that one remembered fondly. After all, Samojadja, just like Arameria, had a troubled past. All the centuries had passed, knowledge was lost. What people seemed to remember fondly, however, was the fact that there had always been heroes, people who could write history because they were victorious.

"Would you like some more Kopa’che, perhaps, or would you have some wine, Chenerah?" the King asked, holding curved glasses in his hands.

The looking dog slowly wandered along the walls of the room, studying their intricately detailed plaster, and turned around.

"Kopa'che is perfectly fine."

He nodded as the wolf offered him a seat on his opulent sofa.

"Well, I guess one glass won't hurt. But after that it should be over. I'm already noticing a decent spin, to be honest," the older man admitted and sat down.

Rexion agreed and filled the glasses.

"Tell me, what happened after my father's death?" he asked. "You certainly took up the pursuit of Artos, didn't you?"

The Kecar sighed, "Yes, that's right. After I buried Amarok, I ran after him. I couldn't believe that he must have watched your father, my friend, being tortured. I knew immediately that something was wrong. Artos did not intervene, which in my eyes made him complicit in this cruelty."

Rexion looked sad, but was still curious. He also sighed and wiped his eyes. Hearing his father's name made him feel down, angry. All these years he had lived without a male idol, and now he wondered if he hadn't unknowingly invited the sheepdog because of it. He needed guidance. Different guidance than his mother was giving him. She could teach him to run an entire empire, to make policy, to make wise decisions. But wasn't it also important for a young male to learn what struggle meant?

Taking another sip, he asked, "Will you tell me what happened?"

A slight smile from the dog followed, as he was pleased that there was now someone to whom he could tell his story from the last few years. He had the feeling with his counterpart that he could trust him. A great, sincere curiosity met him here.

"When I ran after Artos, I knew he wanted to return to Alsatiania. Immediately I suspected that our leader dog was in cahoots with him. I didn't know if the humans had been hired by either of them, but I didn't care."

With a quick stride, fists clenched and lips raised, Chenerah ran snorting across the fields and meadows. He felt a boiling rage within him and quivered as he vowed to punish Artos with destruction if he caught up with him.

The dog ignored paths and roads on his way. They did not exist. He overcame fences by climbing and jumping. There were no obstacles. There was only the direct way to Alsatiania. Ket'Herin, the small village where he had grown up, the place where the leader of the tribe stayed, that was his destination, where he would unload all his anger. Artos and the old woman would be confronted and then atone for having betrayed, tortured and left Amarok to die.

The journey took a while and eventually he had to use fast trains within Arameria. It was difficult for him to behave quietly and unobtrusively so as not to run into problems, because he would have preferred to turn everything and everyone into ashes.

The train route ended at the Alsatian border and that meant Chenerah had to walk the rest of the way to the village.

While leaving paw prints on the sandy ground and running nonstop, he suddenly stopped because he almost stepped on a green glowing beetle.

"Whoa, stop! Well, who are you?" he spoke and bent down to have a closer look at the creature.

He suddenly became calm, relaxed and balanced inside. There was no more anger in him and this beetle captivated him. The insect crawled slowly towards the edge of the path, not seeming to notice the supposed giant, who tilted his head to the side and was amazed to find that the animal was a scarab.

"How is that possible? Something like you doesn't even exist here," he marveled, for he had never seen such a beetle.

Chenerah did know what species it was - after all, he was in a sense Gajan by virtue of his connection to the architect - yet he did not recall ever writing about beetles at all in the Vulpes Lupus Canis; and certainly not one that could only exist on Gaja.

"How you shine ... and shine."

When the animal reached the edge of the path and found cover under a stone, the glow disappeared. The sovereign raised his head and looked up to the sky.

"What?" he asked. "What are you trying to tell me, huh?"

His own voice whispered to him in his mind, "Just stay calm, Chenerah. Gather yourself."

Irritated, the male decided to walk on. He was surprised to find that he now seemed to be calm himself. Although his plans had not changed, he wanted to approach everything objectively, reasonably and calmly.

The encounter with the scarab was strange, but he couldn't make sense of it, and besides, he had more important things to do.

"When I arrived at the hut of our leader, I heard her talking with Artos. The suspicion I had was confirmed: they were talking about Amarok's death, about how now there would be peace on AlphaVul. The leader praised Artos for hiring the Gajans. Although I listened to their conversation calmly, I could feel myself about to burst inside," the dog spoke, while Rexion sipped from his glass.

"Did you ...?"

"Yes, I rushed into the room, drew the sword and rammed it into his stomach. He was not prepared for that. Although I originally wanted to confront him, I lost my temper. It wouldn't have changed anything anyway if he had tried to explain himself. In retrospect, I regret somewhat that I didn't let him suffer longer, as I had actually planned. Besides the fact that those I had trusted had plotted, Artos was my best friend. Of course, I also asked myself why he had betrayed me like that, but I could figure out for myself that he was devoted to our leader. He had always been very close to her and did what she asked."

"Chenerah!" the blind female dog exclaimed and jumped up.

Artos had opened his eyes and was unable to resist. Reflexively, he grasped the blade stuck in his stomach and stared into the aggressive face of his crony. His hands turned red and the muscular conspirator's body trembled.

"Che..." he stammered, receiving a resounding slap.

"Shut up!" the Kecar shouted and growled, grimly holding the sword. "You will bitterly regret it now. I thought you were my friend. How could I have been so wrong about you?"

Artos moaned softly and blood ran from his fang. His eyes twisted and slowly he slumped down, after which his opponent pulled the weapon out of his body again, which now went to the ground.

Finally, Gajaze kicked him several times with full force and yelled, "This is for Amarok!"

The last movements of the underdog abruptly ceased and the sovereign panted doggedly.

Then he turned around in a flash and faced the leader dog, who was trembling all over, pleading, "Chenerah, please don't kill me! Please!"

Snorting, the male dog grabbed the neck of the old woman, who was now gasping and trying to loosen his grip. He squeezed, made the bitch gasp and looked strained when he suddenly let go of her.

Coughing, the bitch fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

"Please let ... me explain!" she stammered.

"No, I will not kill you. The mercy Artos received I gave him only because he was once a friend," the sovereign then spoke. "You I will make suffer for the rest of your miserable life. You will pay for betraying me and letting Amarok die."

The old woman straightened up again and spoke hoarsely, "It had to be done, Chenerah. Understand. The war had to stop. It needed a sacrifice. Otherwise, the battle would have gone on forever. His life had to end so that our world could find peace. The Aramerians would have settled for nothing less."

Her words did not matter to the Kecar. Whatever she might say: None of it would calm him, lessen her guilt, or be a justified objection. No syllable of what she said softened the anger of the male, who did not lower his chaps for a second.

"I will take everything you have. And I will start with your voice. Do not see and do not speak. I'm curious to see if you can still be leader dog then, when nothing comes out of your mouth that is smart and wise," the shepherd dog threatened, looking at the female that she did not understand what he meant.

Slowly he raised the blade, which the female dog didn't notice and only managed to get out a "Kecar, what are you doing?".

A quick cut to her throat followed, at which she shouted out and tried to stop the incipient bleeding with her hand. The scream turned into a gurgle and the old woman fell to her knees.

Now she crouched drawn beside Artos' body and wailed, with Chenerah looking at her deprecatingly and putting the sword back into its scabbard.

"Don't worry, lead bitch," he said calmly, "the wound won't kill you. I won't make it that easy for you. I will take the protector and the Ispocetka. To you traitors I will not leave these things anymore. Traitors may be allowed to rule other realms, but not Alsatiania!"

Suddenly, two more males entered the hut. They had heard the scream and were now standing in front of the sovereign with drawn weapons.

"By the gods!" one of them shouted. "What have you done, Kecar?"

The one addressed replied, "If you don't want to be next, you'd better not stop me. Rather, take care of her. We don't want our great leader to die. Let me go, or you can whine with her about it."

The warriors looked at each other in puzzlement for a moment, but let the Kecar have his way as he calmly put on the protector and took the Ispocetka, the sacred stone, from the shelf. Hastily, the soldiers took care of the female as its tormentor left the dwelling.

"So you have hidden the Ispocetka, the focus of the world, at your home? So at the moment, no one but you and me know where it is?" the King interrupted the narration questioningly.

The dog nodded silently.

"But ... if that's the case, what other function does your leader have? Her job is to guard the insignia and sanctuaries of your people, if I remember correctly."

"Now," grinned the sovereign, "she no longer has a function. That was the whole point. She can't see or speak now. I don't know if she's even alive after all these years. I have never been back to Ket'Herin since. I avenged the death of Amarok, and now I guard the Ispocetka myself. That bitch doesn't deserve it."

The King pondered and asked whether the shepherd dog might not have done more harm than good. After all, Alsatiania had always been a loose confederation of different tribes, each of which needed a leader for spiritual guidance. Since no one now knew where the stone was, mistrust would be a likely result of all this.

"No one needs a traitor as a leader. My tribe will continue to exist. Maybe they have had a new leader for some time. I don't care. In any case, they won't get the stone. It was all Alsatians together who successfully defended this piece. As a Kecar, it is my duty to override them all at any time when they are about to make stupid decisions."

The wolf nodded, "Yes, I see. Artos was your last victim of this war and the leader dog was punished. Why didn't they execute you for that?"

"I am the Kecar. Period," the elder spoke confidently; and it was an answer that needed no further explanation.

"Absolutely," agreed Rexion, suggesting that the evening should now end. "It is late. You are welcome to rest here or in the second bedroom, Chenerah. Let's talk more tomorrow. We are in dire need of sleep."

They said goodbye with a hug, after which the males retired to their rooms.

The next morning,