Chapter 1, The Young Cleric

In the busy streets of Goashal's capital, Shangrala, a youth in a snow white hooded cloak rushed passed by-standers, always careful not to knock into anyone despite her haste. A small "excuse me" here and a "pardon me" there were the only words she gave. She made her way to a rather antique-looking manor, where pale green vines had made their way up its wall with the passage of time. One could still guess the color of the manor by the patches of white that were seen in between the ever growing vines. The youth smiled at the sense of familiarly that arose at the sight of the charming manor. Free from the crowd now, the youth came up the walkway to the manor, leaves crunching under her steps, as she tightened her cloak around her. 'Winter is upon us, I suppose…' was the single thought that passed through her head as she stood before the entrance, hands already starting to pull it open, the youth's eyes admiring the twin foxes that were carved onto either doors. The old oak doors, however, would not budge. Another tug was given, but the end result was the same. The youth softly grated her teeth together in annoyance as she muttered, "Master really should fix these doors or, at least, go out more often. I swear I'm the only one that uses them!" rather darkly. Using both hands now, she tightened her grip on the right handle and pulled. Not even a creak. The youth placed her left foot on the left door and pushed off as she pulled, knuckles white from the grip. "Come…on…! Just give way, you blasted, vexing door!" the youth uttered.

"Having trouble, are we…?" a voice asked calmly from the side. Taken off guard by the comment, the youth gave a shout of surprise which resulted in the loosening of her firm grip, flinging herself backwards onto the cold ground.   

The hood having fallen back, the fox-eared young woman looked up at the white haired young Kitsune with amber eyes and white ears like hers through her emerald eyes and asked, "Master?" Upon a confirmation that really wasn't needed she nearly jumped up and proceeded to take the dead leaves out of her long brown hair. 'How unsightly! Letting Master see me like this…' she thought as she kept pulling leaves out. "I came to continue our lessons, Master. I hope you have time. I could always just back some other time or-"

"Nonsense, Pam!" the young man laughed as he opened the door with ease. "Come. Follow me." She quickly compiled, almost glaring at the twin foxes and then, just as quickly, stopped after thinking how foolish it was to glare at doors. She didn't notice the foxes had blinked and their heads had shaken as if they were chuckling. Her eyes soon fell upon the nine white fox tails the young man had, the mark of just how powerful and wise he was…and hinted at his true age. Her eyes then traveled to her single white tail with a red tip. She sighed. 'I'm 19 years old now and what do I have to show for it?! A tail…a single tail...' Even though the man looked about 21 years of age, Pam knew better. For the Kitsune people, the number of tails more or less told the world of your standing. The ranges of tails were one, three, five, seven, or nine. Weakest to strongest. However to able to gain all nine was something that was not commonly heard of and doing so meant the person was either very old or very powerful. The man before her was both. He had to be for this man, Marquis Madorra, was the current Lord of Goashal. "Master, I was wondering…just what is this next assignment you're sending me on?"

"You will be observing the first battle of this war with the wolves…" Marquis' tone held a level of sadness, but his eyes held determination. 'I know this won't be easy, but I have faith in you, Pam. I know you'll-"

"WHAT?!" The shrill cry echoed throughout the manor. Composing herself quickly, Pam mumbled a quick work of apology.

A slight smile graced Marquis' lips. 'Perhaps I was a bit too blunt…?'

"B-But Master, I can't! I'm not even done studying under you yet. I cannot compare to the fully trained white tails. I would only be a burden."

"Nonsense, Pam." The leader chuckled at the look of anxiety that overtook his young charge. "You are my best student and the only way to improve is to experience things first hand. I can only teach you so much with books and my long winded stories, after all." Marquis held out his hand as a brilliant, ethereal white flame appeared; the warmth that exuded from it warmed the cold cleric to the bone. "How do you think I managed to acquire this level of the Kitsunebi? It was through such task set to me by my own master, the pervious lord."

Looking slightly dejected, Pam nodded. "Of course, Master. I understand. I shall go prepare now." Giving a slight bow, Pam left the room, her future thoughts on the horror that was sure to come.

***
The young woman walked down the dirt road, taking in all the scenery around her: the worn looking, wooden shops, the sweet scent of bread from local bakery, and the sound of children as they ran all over the capital, playing as their favorite hero or villain. However, just as everything was the same as it always was, there too was great change. All around the Kitsune nation, farmers and shop keepers, school teachers and parents, old and young, all these kind people prepared for a war they did not ask for, a war that they did not wish for, a war that would destroy their peaceful lives. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, many people were saying goodbye to loved ones, spending what time they could before their lives were not their own anymore but pieces to be used in the game of nations. Tears and worries only seemed to grow with each passing second, each reassurance to someone that 'I'll be coming home' and every 'I will survive'. After all…many knew they were making liars out of themselves. They, a people with hardly any knowledge of warfare, were going up against one of the most feared army of the world: The Wolves of the North, often the main villains of stories told to naughty children, were famous for their violent history and style of fighting. For many, the end of the world was coming. Pam decided to rest on a wooden bench in front of a smithery, abnormally busy making all sorts of weapons and shields, the demand so high it simply could not be met forcing many to make do with what they had. Would-be soldiers took old, scraps of metal, the siding of homes, and old weapons that no longer had any place on the battlefield. Gazing at the tiring swordsmith and the eerie, golden glow of a blistering blade, Pam could not help but wonder what fate had in store for her beloved land.

A small kit, he could not be more than 6 by Pam's guess, seeing as he had yet to reach his humanoid form, ran up, the white cloak caught his attention. "Hey, Miss…why 're all the adults cryin'? I tried askin' Mama, but starting crying all over again."

At a loss of words, Pam patted the small fox's head, replying, "Well, we're at…war," Pam took a small moment to realize the word she just said, "with the Wolfens." It felt odd as she said it, unreal to say it with any truth behind it.

"War…? That some kind of game?" The youth's eyes widened as he realized the cause behind everyone's unease. "Oh, no, are we losing?!"

Pam could only look at the kit, almost envious of his blissful unawareness. However, to the cleric, one thing was certain:

The halcyonic days of the Kitsune were at their end.