Walking at a slow pace down the streets of Balifor Saran reminisced about his childhood.
So much has changed, He thought, The last time I walked down here was with my parents.  His fondest memory of his all too short childhood was his first trip to the market place in town square.
His parents had taken him shopping with them, the sights and sounds that greeted him when he first set foot into this previously unexplored part of town were fantastic, he especially remembered the men in their kiosk's advertising in a voice louder then the gentle din how their sweets were the sweetest or their fish was of the highest quality.

    Now as he strolled amongst the people of Balifor he felt like an outsider, taken from his home and left in a place similar, but startlingly different.
The streets still buzzed with the daily hustle and bustle, but instead of the happy laughter and smiling faces of his youth, these people wore somber expressions and spoke in low fearful voices, the street vendors who once sold bolts of cloth and delectable foods, now were purveyors of armaments of all
types.  The very feeling of the air seemed different.

    This must be because of the Ryu-Jin's recent attacks.  He thought to himself as he turned the corner leaving the main street of the crowded marketplace he found himself wandering down the lonely path
to the temple of Alanis.
It stood, dark and foreboding upon the crest of a hill in the very center of Balifor belching black smoke into the sky.
The very site of it sent a chill down Saran's spine, "Hmmm. . .no backing out now, I'm not returning until I've achieved my goal."  Boldly he strode forward, the first step up that hill was the first step of his incredible journey, and the last of his old life.
 
 

    Stepping up to the open gates he walked inside.  It was like stepping into another world, outside the light shined and the world was filled with the sounds of nature, inside the temple grounds it was like the grave, deathly quiet and dark.  Cleric's of differing rank walked about on their own business,
Saran gazed about looking for a reception desk of some sort.
Looking for someone who could help he reached out and tugged on the sleeve of the closest person to him.
    Turning and fixing Saran with a look of exasperation, a young man with a gaunt face and long black hair swathed in heavy silk robes sighed.  "Can I help you. . .?"
    "Saran,"  He supplied extending his hand.
    "I see,"  said the priest looking at it with obvious distaste.  "Now, is there something you need, I have many errands to run today."
    "Uhh yes, I came here to receive the training to become-"
    "A Dragoon, yes, follow me."  He gestured with a bandaged and bloodied hand.
    Saran tried not to but he found himself staring at it while this priest led him into another part of the temple, noticing his intent gaze the cleric followed it to his mutilated hands.
    Turning sharply he looked straight into Saran's face, "Why is it you keep staring at me?"  He demanded harshly.
    Saran threw up his hands in mock surrender,  "Hey sorry, it's just your hands, how did you hurt them?"
    The harshness disappeared from the priests face and was replaced by religious fervor,
"My station within the temple has recently been elevated, from Neonate to Kyte,"  He smiled warmly as he remembered the cherished ceremony.  "It is but a small sacrifice to make for my queen."
    Saran was almost afraid to ask, but his curiosity had been piqued.  "What sort of. . .sacrifice?"
    "A flaming six foot pike is driven through my hands, the ceremony is called the stigmata, the pain is excruciating.  Ahh here we are."  The cleric gestured with a wounded hand towards a door, lettering on the door read 'CATHEDRAL'.  "This is where we part ways Saran, I wish you good luck."
He said simply as he turned to leave.
    "Hey, I didn't get your name!"  Saran called out to the disappearing priest.
    "Layran."  Came the distant reply.
     Shrugging, Saran stood before the door apprehensively, this was what he'd been waiting for, slowly, carefully he placed a hand on the door and pushed.  The sense of stepping into another world greeted him again as he walked into the CATHEDRAL training center.
    "It must take up the whole Sorinthern end of Balifor!"  He exclaimed in awe.

    And indeed it did, school buildings and training facilities dominated the wide open area, certain plains were marked off as special battle simulation arena's and three large barracks stood off to the left, all this was overshadowed by a large circular floral arrangement surrounded by and natural fresh water
spring where students in uniform lounged around on break.
    Saran stood staring in wonderment, and almost got bowled over by a squad of soldiers running laps about the circle, he walked up to one of the students.  "Uhh, excuse me, but do you know were I can register?"  He asked in polite tones.
    The young man turned and fixed Saran with a gaze like ice, his hair was close cropped and stood on end, black with white tips like all Alanians, his face was accentuated by delicate cheek bones and a pointed chin.  "You?"  He asked incredulously, "Your going to register?"
    Saran felt his face flush, "Yes, that's what I'm here for."  He stated.
    The young man laughed harshly in Saran's face.  "Hah!  You want to become a Dragoon?  Ok sure, it's over there."  He directed Saran to a circular desk with a small line of people gathered in front to the right of the entrance.  "Now if you'll excuse me I have to get back to class, it's hard work
becoming a Dragoon, as I'm sure you'll find out."  He turned and left Saran alone with his thoughts.
  "Jerk."  He threw the insult at the arrogant students back, turning on his heel he walked over to the small line in front of the desk.  Suddenly there was a commotion behind him.
  "HEY!  IS THIS WHERE I SIGN UP?!"
The voice was high pitched and set Saran's teeth on edge, turning to see who owned such 'special' vocal gifts, he beheld a short lad with flaming red hair and skin whiter then chalk bouncing about in front of a church guardsman fireing endless questions at him.  Saran could see the guardsman was at
his nerves end and by the way his right hand twitched near the sword at his hip the jubilant red head wouldn't be asking very many more questions.
    Giving up his place in line he ran towards the flame haired young man and jumped between him and the guard.  "Hey, Uhh no trouble here sir, I'll direct him to the registration line,"  He said ingratiatingly, the guard eyed him suspiciously. "Ah if that's ok with you that is . . ."

    Without waiting for an answer he grabbed the young man by the upper arm and dragged him to the end of the now longer line.  Turning to fix the person who had cost him his place in line with his most scathing gaze he found the red head had already fixed him with the most innocent, and devious, looking smile he'd ever seen.
    Sticking out his hand the red headed lads smile grew wider if possible.  "Hi I'm Kirin, what's your name?"
    "My names Saran, and wait a minute-"
    "Saran, thats a nice name, why I don't think I've ever heard a name so nice, did you know that in Kikai Saran is the name is of a deadly poison that burns your insides, and in Elven it mea-"
    "WAIT,"  Saran cried, "Wait just a moment!"  Saran took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, "You know that you almost got yourself killed, cost me my place in line and now your bragging about consorting with the lesser races?!?"  The veins in his neck and temples began to show as his face reddened with each syllable that he bit off and fired at the ever smiling Kirin.
Looking at the almost childlike innocence on Kirin's face he found himself feeling foolish, calming down he turned his back on Kirin and waited for his turn to register.
    The whole wait on line Kirin regaled him with tales of faraway lands, some of which Saran had never even heard of, and as much as he found this fiery haired motor mouthed young man annoying he also found himself beginning to like him.

    Before he knew it he was at the front desk, a young man in a loose fitting black shirt and pantaloons was leafing through documents while Saran waited patiently, after a moment the man looked up and
acknowledged him.
    "Given name, Surname, Age, fighting experience?"  He questioned in a dull, uninterested voice.
    "Saran of Balifor, twenty, and no I don't have any fighting experience."
     Scrawling some notes on a new sheet of parchment and retrieving something from a drawer within the desk he looked at Saran again.  "Clothing size, right handed/left handed?"
    "Uh I'm right handed and I don't know my clothes measurements."  He replied flushing.
    The young man, which Saran could only guess was a priest of the lowest rank, then beckoned to a burly guardsman behind him, whispering in the guards ear he scribbled some more on the paper while the guard grabbed something from the desk and stood in front of Saran.
    "Stand straight and hold out your arms."  He ordered in a gruff voice.
    Saran complied, holding out his arms and standing straight, doing his best to imitate a 'T' shape.
    The guardsman uncoiled a notched piece of rope and held it up to Saran's shoulders, then from his waist to his neck, and his hips to his ankles, each time barking out a set of numbers to the Neonate priest who diligently wrote it down.  When he was finished with Saran he disappeared into a
doorway behind the desk.
    Saran shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
    The Neonate smiled for the first time today, he'd seen plenty of these new recruits, all with the same dumb expression and nervous looks, this one looked especially wet behind the ears, Head Instructor NiJuu was going to make mincemeat out of him.   "Sign your name here if you can write, if not sign an 'X'."  His finger indicated the appropriate spot on the document.
    Saran signed his name, 'Saran of Balifor', on the line.
    Suddenly the Neonate grabbed Saran's right hand with his own, it began to sizzle and burn.
    Startled by the pain Saran attempted to pull free from the death like grip of the Neonate priest but he couldn't.
    Satisfied the cleric released Saran's hand.  "Welcome to the Cathedral of Balifor Saran, you are assigned to Company 'C', the barracks where you sleep are off to the Est, your uniform will be waiting for you on your bunk, I hope you enjoy your stay."
    Saran gazed at the back of his hand, a scar was burnt into it, he knew it well for it was displayed all over the temple grounds, the symbol of Alanis.

    The sun was missing this dreary summer morn, dark clouds blanketed the sky and thunder could be heard distantly on the horizon.  All in all it was turning out to be a crappy day Saran thought wearily as he rose and began to shuck on the heavy training clothes, It wouldn't be so bad, Saran thought, If
once you got used to the weighted clothes they didn't increase the weight!
    Kirin soon popped up after the gong rang out telling all the students that the morning exercises would soon begin.
His perpetual smile all ready fixed on his face he cheerily hopped into the uniform that seemed to big for him.  "What a nice day, maybe it'll rain and the plants will get some water, it always smells nice after a good rain."  He cheerily stated while tying the laces that held the twenty pound vest over his small frame in place.
    "Doesn't anything make you unhappy?"  An exasperated Saran queried.
    Kirin replied with a smile "Nope."
    Saran didn't let Kirin see his own smile, that was one of the reasons he, and everyone else in 'C' company, liked having the little guy around, he found something good in everything.

    "All right you maggots!  Get up, if we're lucky it might rain, so this way I don't have to smell your stinking bodies today!"  Bellowed the all too familiar voice of Head Instructor NiJuu.
    Well, Saran thought, can find something good in almost anything, frankly I don't think anyone could
find something good in that crotchety old fart.

    The students lined up outside awaiting inspection, Head Instructor Nijuu walked slowly down the line of a dozen or so men in 'C' Company, daring something to be wrong, uncombed hair, scuffed boots, untied strings, anything.   He stopped infront of Kirin, eyeing him with his big bloodshot orbs,
his gazed burned through Kirin, just as all the troops loved him, Nijuu hated him.
Moving on he stopped before Saran, Now here was true Dragoon material Nijuu thought, dedicated, quick to learn, and absolutely loyal, these were fine traits in any young man, all the more reason why Nijuu took it extra hard on Saran, blaming him for things he didn't do and giving him extra lashes with the whip, Nijuu hated little good boys like Saran.

    He remembered his younger days, he was once a proud member of Alanis's elite force, the Church Knights, thought not as powerful they were just as important, if not more then the Dragoons, for though the Dragoons carried out her holy mission the Church Knights protected the Temples and all the
sacred treasures therein, he was Nijuu, number twenty in a strictly limited series of twenty-five, twenty-five of the very best Church Knights, but that was then and this is now.  He didn't feel like reminiscing about his fall from glory, being a lowly Head Instructor was punishment enough.
    "You dogs make me sick!"  He spat, as if on cue it began to rain, tiny droplets at first, which soon escalated into a torrential down pour.
"You worthless piles of Dragon Fodder expect to become Dragoons?"  Nijuu roared, thunder and lightning rolled across the black sky putting emphasis on his words.  "That's it from now on you fools are gonna train double time!  You see those stones over there?!"  He pointed to 13 stones behind him, each just a little larger then a Human head.  "Today your gonna take those stones and run laps around the whole Cathedral with them above your heads!"
    Someone in line raised his hand.  "Uhh Instructor Nijuu, how many laps around the Cathedral do we have to do?"  The young man asked.
    Nijuu glared at him, how dare he?   His eyes narrowed.  "Until I get tired of seeing you fairies running around like you got blood worms in your crotches.  But you,"  He pointed to the boy, "your special, I'm gonna make you run till your arse falls off!"
    The young man swallowed hard and got back in line.
    "GO!"  Nijuu roared.
    With a unanimous groan the class of a dozen or so students surged forward, each one grabbing a heavy rock and beginning the long run about the Cathedral facility, along the way many of the students surreptitiously helped Kirin along by taking his rock for a while.

    Later, after completing what ended up to be a twenty-two lap run around the whole Cathedral 'C' Company was directed to a bath house were they could wash the dirt of the day off and clothe themselves in somewhat less moist reinments.
    Kirin lay back against the smooth tiled wall of the large bath house and sank slowly into the warm water luxuriating in its comfortable feel after running about in the cold windy rainstorm that still raged outside.  "Ahh, this is just the thing I need after a long hard workout."  He mumbled softly.
    Saran gave him an incredulous look, "What workout?  You hardly carried the rock."  He complained while rubbing his aching back.
    "I did too!"  Replied Kirin defensively.
    Saran knew better then to argue so he dropped the subject, "Kirin, you always talk about seeing places outside of Alania, where do you come from?"
It was a question that he'd been wanting to ask for the three months he'd known the almost childlike teen.
    Kirin suddenly became tense, he wore a worried look on his face.  "I-I'll tell you later."
    "But-"  Saran protested.
    The gong rang, all the students, including Kirin, scrambled for their clothes, being late to Bishop Feldaran's class was a fate worse then death as far they were concerned.
    Saran sat alone in the water staring after his peers.  "Kirin. . ."

    Saran ran into the class five minute's after the second gong rang, Bishop Feldaran's gaze was like ice.
    "Is there any particular reason you are late Saran?"  He asked with feigned calmness.  His long wooden pointer tapped a staccato beet while he awaited Saran's reply.
    "I'm sorry Bishop Feldaran,"  he apologized with a bow, "I have no excuse."
    "Hmm I thought not."  Mused the Bishop.  He indicated an empty seat with his pointer, "Sit down, I'll meat out your punishment for tardiness after class."  His voice was ominous as it spelled out poor Saran's fate.

    The next three hours were torture for Saran, he couldn't concentrate on the lesson, all he could think about was what Feldaran would do to him after class, throughout the ranks and companies rumors about terrible things that Feldaran did to students who broke his rules spread like wildfire, and all of them were unpleasent.
    By the end of class he was visibly sweating, Feldaran dismissed the class and sat at his desk shuffling through some documents nonchalantly, ignoring Saran's very presence.
    He couldn't stand it, Feldaran was doing this on purpose, trying to unnerve Saran.The silence grew thunderous, his blood throbbed in his ears, the constant beating of his heart was all he could hear, soon, he would knew, it would drive him mad.
    "Saran, come here."  Feldaran summoned him.
    "Huh!"  The sound of something other then his own heart beat startled him from his thoughts.  "What?"
  Without even looking up Feldaran replied.  "Come here."
  Slowly, reluctantly, Saran stood and walked over to Feldaran's desk, he wrung his hands together not knowing what else to do with them.
    "Stop that, only weaklings and the lesser races are subject to nervous ticks such as that."
    "Yes Bishop Feldaran."  He replied.
    Feldaran stood and looked straight at Saran, "Five demerits on your record.  Don't be late again."
He gathered his papers and prepared to leave.
    "What?  That's it?"  He was shocked, he'd expected at the very least a few lashes from a whip or something.
    Feldaran turned, a smile crept onto his face from the corner of his mouth.  "Yes Saran, that is it."
    Saran couldn't suppress a sigh of relief.