Type wipes away his tears with a sniffle.

He has missed the big man so much but never got an opportunity to grieve.

The letters sing the praises of Wizard Emperor and... his mentor is asking him to extend his trust for a better tomorrow.

How easy for him to say!

But the evidence...

His hands shake taking out the final report that he has refused to open till now.

Investigation report - Death of Captain of Forlpoks : Briyana Saaprit Marthi aka Briyana Thiwat

... the meeting was postponed due to crowd control measures related to flood of Triyar. Briyana left the barracks before the meeting without official decree, to help the villagers flee from the catastrophe. The letter of invitation from Emperor Mew was dated two days before of her murder. Herewith attached the evidence of Emperor Mew's written letters after her death, requesting another meetings. Only plausible conclusion - Emperor Mew or his army had no clue about her untimely demise and had been waiting for the captain to reschedule the meeting...

Type looks up shaking his head.

Well, the Emperor has never waited for his mother like him... hours and hours into nights and days, waiting for her warm hugs.

But...

Then he reads the personal note from Taapith.

It is easy to blame an unseen enemy than point fingers at our own friends for the crime. Let this hate do not blind you from seeing the truth, N'Type. Our loved ones did not die from the hands of Emperor Mew... or his men. The blood is in our own hands...

Does not change a thing, does it?

His species is dying because of wars... wars with these Wizards.

But these deaths are not in war fields, right? All the deceased has had the invitations from the Emperor himself right before their death.

In comparison, war has been kind. This betrayal has taken so many lives and who is to blame?

Type closes his eyes, falling to the bed, taking deep breaths. He hates crying.

Makes him vulnerable in front of 'tough' army.

Two days pass in a blink and he is dispersed from the healer's clutches.

Two drops of blood on his thigh has made the healer lose her composure that even the Emperor Mew postponed their meeting until his 'medical discharge'.

His tests have come back normal, like he has deducted. The wizard people has no idea about their anatomy but Type would keep it that way.

He does not believe their actions just yet.

Today he is going back to his... his... people. But are they really his people? If the evidence of Taapith is right, then his people are his betrayers.

That could not be right... His people are his home.

The sleep is as disturbing as the reality and Type wakes up more tired but the bathroom puts a smile on his face.

Thankfully when he is back from his long bath, his own clothes are cleaned and ironed on his bed with the reason of his 'capture' looking out through the window.

"You should stop coming inside the bedroom without asking."

"Then you should not let your aura accept me in." Thara Kirigun turns around with a smirk.

"There are words, Wolf... I have not told the words 'yes'." Type looks at him unamused.

Thara shakes his shoulders ignoring his words. "If you are ready for the meeting we can leave now."

Type nods, taking his clothes back to bathroom to get dressed. The bath robe is so fluffy and white; Type thinks as he sheds it.

Someone puts so much thought in designing this room and even the little things are so comforting.

Maybe when he retires, he can build a room like this... if he stays alive for that long.

He stares at the image in front of him. The proper rest and food has brought some shine to skin.

He leans closer for a better look.

"You look good today, babe." Type smiles but then groans when he sees the roots of his hair are peeking through. He will have to dye his hair in a week or so.

Hmm...

His eyes wanders all over the mirror image of his own body and stops at the tattoo he bears on his stomach. Why is it so mandatory for everyone to know that he has a womb?

So, when the enemies capture, at least their lineage would continue, even through rape.

Type wets his lips and takes a deep sigh.

It is... unnerving that he has been branded as a 'carrier' since he is seven... He remembers his parents being so happy. Another year, his mother...

Hmm...

Then Type really does not remember being happy. And he has blown away the last of his dad's happiness when he chose the same profession that killed his mother.

Type closes his eyes, chants a quick prayer and gets dressed without further delay.

He feels 'normal' when he is back in his own clothes.

As expected the Wolf is waiting and they leave together to meet the Emperor.

The walk is awfully silent and Type feels there is something unsaid but he does not push it.

He glares when the man keeps the door open for him to enter the Emperor's Strategy Room. The General who joined their breakfast the first day gives him a curt but welcoming nod before leaving.

Then it is just the three of them.

"I see you have gone through Taapith's box?"

"I have."

"Good. We hope there is something that would give you an idea about what our proposal is?"

"No. He only said about rethinking our position as enemies."

"Ah..." The Emperor motions him to sit and Type takes a seat. "That man. Always leaving me to do the hard work."

The respect and love for a friend is clearly visible in those words.

"We are not enemies by choice or because of things that we, both of us, have done. I am not saying we have not added our own bit. But asking 'why' repeatedly: the reason for our fights are still unknown and hundreds of generations have passed since the true reason, if there is a reason at all."

Type remains silent.

"But we have been taught to hate each other. Despite sharing so many biological - morphological and psychological - similarities, we are wary of each other. Isn't it curious that Wizards and Necromancers can build families with each other despite the huge difference of our magical abilities?"

Type does not know where this is going.

He is not marrying this old man for whatever reason... especially not for making babies.

Is the proposal, a marriage proposal?

Like hell he wou...

"It is difficult to un-teach the old but if we think of new generations..."

Holy shit in the Ba's temple!

This is a marriage proposal!

Anger tinged with disgust crawls inside Type's throat and he can feel the emotions manifesting as spell... He must control it or the result will be disastrous.

"So... we have built a university."

"How d...! Wait! What?" Type asks the Emperor dumbfounded.

"Yes, Commander Thiwat. We have built a university where all the children and scholars up to the age of 30 is welcome to study. We already have the children of our necromancer citizens in this university but they drop out after primary education."

Type gulps and scolds himself.

It is almost like the offhanded comment from the Wolf has turned him judgmental overnight!

"Join me, Commander Thiwat. I would like to show you more. Step through this portal."

"Commander Thiwat is wary of wizard portals, Just Emperor." The Wolf speaks and Type glares.

"Commander Thiwat can talk for himself." Type snips. "I am fine."

The portal makes him a bit dizzy and disoriented for few moments but thankfully nobody notices... except Thara, of course.

"This is the University of Khlapenpom, laid foundation half a decade ago."

Children are running around screaming, laughing and crying; none of them bothered about the adults as they run around in circles.

"Careful, young one!" The Emperor catches a tyke who almost face plants to the ground.

"Sowwy, Teach Supsit." The young one, barely 4, walks just fast to catch his buddy.

"I sometimes teach the little ones here. How carefree they are! Anyways, the points is to build friendship among wizards and necromancers and... what is a better ground than a school. Power of education is the biggest spell against any hate. Don't you agree, Commander Thiwat?"

Type nods, looking around.

The Emperor is right. They have all types of little kids running around and some of the wizards are friends with necromancers.

"It is easy for the little ones but about the older ones... though there are no fights, there is no friendship and it is even sadder that our necromancy students drop out of high school."

Type's education is fairly informal. His homeschooling has made him one of the blessed ones. Most children do not even have pre-primary education... if they live for that long.

"My wife is adamant that there is something I am doing wrong. Do you agree, Commander Thiwat?"

Type nods again. "There is no person to know us better than our spouses. So, if he thinks so, maybe you should reanalyze your decisions."

The Wolf coughs to cover his laughter and Type's lips twitch.

"You are awfully honest." The Emperor says.

"But maybe instead of doing wrong, you might not be doing what is correct." Type adds and the Emperor stares at him.

"Actually those are his exact words. I love to play the victim in our lovers' spats and you caught me." The Emperor jokes and this time Type lets his smile show.

"But I have figured what I am not doing correct." The Emperor continues.

Type waits patiently.

"I think you should join our educational policy."

"Huh?"

"Taapith told me that you have not finished your graduation... or have begun the process for that matter. Your joining here in our advanced study classes will set an example."

"Me? I... uh..."

"Chief Kirigun is a student here; specializing in weapon engineering, demographic statistics and regal politics." The pride in the Emperor's voice makes Type yearn.

Would anyone be ever proud of him this way?

"Do not worry; he is an overachiever." The Emperor smiles. "Based on your scores, you can take maximum up to three specialization courses along with your regular graduation courses. Or you can just complete the regular courses and still pass the graduation."

"I do not think I want to be a student again. Graduation makes no sense..." If you are just going to die in a revolt or to end up as a farmer.

"You do not have to rush the decision. Taapith always talked about your dedication to learn and this way we can build a better tomorrow."

Type looks at the playground where some kids are still playing.

A necromancer kid is drawing his Chakras to dissipate the negative energies but doing it obviously wrong. What caught his attention is the wizard kid hovering from the pillar of some game post; maybe leather balls.

Hmm...

Just as Type feared, the wizard kid casts a spell into one of the Chakra circle and before Type could intervene the necromancer student counter attacks with a thunder bolt.

The post only vibrates and the wizard kid almost falls down breaking his neck but the wizard instructor who is in duty quickly catches the kid mid fall.

Type takes a deep breath and notices the Emperor and Thara also have drawn the spells to save the kid.

"You! Kaliiz! How many times do I have to say do not meddle with Chakra markings!" The instructor scolds and the wizard kid apologizes. "And you, Luas, how could you cast thunder spell on him? He could have fallen and broke his back!"

"Sorry Mr. Hauras."

"Detention! Both of you! Leave to Holding Room. Some time together would do you good. Brats!"

The teacher rubs his chest and stomps away to the water stand but the kids start giggling.

"Told you this would work! Come on! I will show you what my father taught me..."

"Cool... I do not want to draw circles anymore."

The boys run off laughing, holding hands and Type understands they have tricked their teacher in to detention.

"Troublesome headaches they are, right?" The Emperor asks and Type wholeheartedly agrees.

Exactly why Type does not want any kids.

Type follows the Emperor into another portal and they are back in the Strategy Room back in palace.

Thara leaves with a bow to the Emperor, reminding them that he would be waiting outside.

"The decision will not be easy, I understand but... Taapith gave me a list of people who he liked to have here in university as students. Some are even from your battalion I presume."

The Emperor hands over the list and Type goes through it.

"We cannot decipher the writings but he had said you would know who they are. He never disclosed anything that would breach your security and privacy."

Type nods as he reads the names in his mind.

"Would you consider joining, Commander Thiwat?"

Type doesn't take much time as he has only one answer.

"It is honorable what you are trying to do but there are a lot of things we need than some fancy certificates. What are we going to do with it? Let us see this as an investment. We invest our time for this education and what is the final result? We serve your empire? We become your army professionals who would kill our own kind? Or we become wives and husbands of the wizards and be treated as property or worse used as a tool to lure more of our people in?"

The Emperor remains silent.

"At the end, the result is the same. We live in a world where we serve the Wizards and this way we would not even have a fighting chance."

Type stands up, safely keeping the list in his pocket.

"Thank you for your hospitality. If you truly care about our lives, Emperor of Wizards, maybe start from not killing us and invading our villages."

Type almost makes to the door when the Emperor speaks again.

"You are not seeing the whole picture, child. There could be a life without serving anyone, without war... you cannot see such a life and I honestly do not blame you. I could not see it until my wife pointed it out. Then how can you?"

The Emperor walks to him.

"Education gives you freedom, Commander Thiwat. Freedom to choose; freedom to know. Empire of Galoddhikeera is not friends with all of its neighbors. Our relations are held only by peace treaty. But do you see a war?"

Type ponders the facts.

"If you wish to serve the wizards, then it will be only because of your choice, not because you have no other way out. If you live in forests, surrounded by thorns and cold streams, then it will be because of your choice. Not because you cannot trust to build a home among wizards."

"Sounds so farfetched." Type replies honestly.

"Because you do not have education to understand politics and laws. You may read them but you do not know why things are running the way they are. How can you know right from wrong? How would you know why one law is for the people but a seemingly similar one is against them?"

Type has no answers.

"You are taught only the ways of war and survival... and aren't you so good at that! But there are ways to live with peace... not just survival but living a life in your own terms."

Emperor is right; Type cannot see it.

"I can force you to choose because I know you are unaware of so many other options. But I am wise... cunning even. So, university is the only option I am going to give you. What do you pick?"

Type stares at the Lion Skulled masked Emperor for a few moments.

"I pick my people."

With that Type turns around and leaves the Strategy room with his head held high.

"You are a fool loyal to wrong people for right reasons." The Wolf growls behind him.

"Eavesdropping is not an honorable man's doing." Type answers without looking back.

"In war, there is no honor. You of all people should know, White Kitten." Thara falls in steps with him.

"Tiger!"

"You admit then?" Thara stops and Type bites his tongue; his feet suddenly plastered to the ground. What is about this man that pushes all his buttons - right and wrong - together that his mind and resolve malfunctions?!

"I have my people to protect, Wolf. Peace are for people who have filled stomach and sleeping children. We have poverty and kids' graves, Chief." Type starts walking faster.

"You are so stupid, I am wondering how you are still alive, Thiwat!!!"

Type wonders too.

Or why haven't he plunged his hidden knife to the man's chest yet and escaped as a true warrior?

"Please do not follow me." That is all he whispers and a portal is built in front of him. He looks back at the wizard who is staring at him.

Is it sadness in the Wolf's eyes?

"You walk, you will reach there in eternity. The portal will drop you at the stream. It is quite a distance away from the village. So you can walk the rest."

Type nods and Thara nods back.

Type is so confused; especially when he turns around after entering the portal. Why? To bid good bye to his mortal enemy?

No, he is afraid the man would stab him in the back.

Even Type's head calls him stupid at the absurd idea.

Thara Kirigun would make your life so miserable that you would welcome death like a mother's hug but... backstabbing is not the Wolf's strategy.

And he gets the feeling of impending doom only after the portal closes and for a few moments Type truly believes the portal has caused the dizziness for his mental alarms go off.

But the forest is oddly silent; even the rhythm of the faraway stream is... out of notes.

Hmmm...

What could possibly be...

"You have some nerve to show your face back here, Thiwat?"

"Hliast, what are you doing here? Is the safety of temple compromised?" Type frowns at the Pious Squad of the army.

"You tell me, Thiwat."

Type takes a satisfied breath.

"You have nothing to worry of. Wolf and his army never got inside the..."

An arrow shoots past his head and Type thanks for his fast reflexes or it would have embedded on his skull.

"What, Hli..." A shurikein flies past and Type has to cast a defense spell to escape this time.

But they do not stop and comes flying from all the directions and finally Type casts his renowned invisibility spell and hides on top of a sequoia tree.

"You have betrayed us - my people, Thiwat. You know what happens to the betrayers." Hliast looks around calmly swirling his mace.

"I never betrayed 'my' people."

Type jumps just in time to the other tree and an arrow pins where he has been standing.

The armies form around Hliast and Type nerve rackingly watches them wearing face shields. Stinky suffocating gas fill the forest slowly and Type gags feeling nauseated.

Shiyaa...

He has to get out of here or he is going to die due to asphyxiation.

What a horrible way to go!

Not in a battlefield but by the hands of his own people; people he used to call friends.

"If I surrender!!!" Type hollers, climbing down the tree, still invisible. "If I surrender, I stand a chance for trail to prove my innocence."

"You do, Thiwat..." The army remove the masks and the poisonous gas is diffused. "Show yourself and surrender!"

Type takes a deep breath and slowly lifts the invisibility spell to show himself.

This time the arrow find home into his shoulder and Type bites back the curse of pain as his deep red blood gushes out.

"I will surrender!" Type hides behind a rock and states.

"Dead men do not need to surrender, Thiwat."

Shiyaa...

The wound attracts his assailants but Type still fights.

He is not going down just as easily but another shurikein slashes his calf and he stumbles.

He cannot heal. That means they have poisoned the earth as well.

He needs earth to boost up his healing but... if Type ever comes out alive he will never take his magic for granted.

Shit! It hurts like a bitch.

Mimicking hunting dogs, they circle around Type cackling and teasing.

"No worries, Thiwat. You die for a noble cause. We will even make it look like how you mother had died!"

Type freezes to stop but the mocking laughter continues.

"No honorable necromancer will agree to meet with the Emperor, Thiwat. You are tainted. For two days, you have been serving them and you are now one of them. Remember the Prophecy!" Hliast screams and the army follows him.

"Remember the Prophecy!"

"Remember the Prophecy!"

"Remember the Prophecy!"

"In the power vested in me... I hereby use my blessed mace to execute this betrayer." Hliast walks to him in purposeful strides.

"My mother..." Type mumbles.

"Was a betrayer like you."

"She never betrayed anyone!!! She... You killed her! Deliberately! All she wanted was to give you homes..." Type blinks back his tears. He has had promised that he would never cry for her ever again but... but...

It hurts so much.

The mace raises to the air to bash on Type's head but soon it falls limp on Hliast's feet... Type frowns when blood pours steady stream from the man's forehead and he falls thud at Type's feet.

Type gulps then blinks and stare at the Angel who is now standing at the place of Hliast.

"Wolf?"

"Kitten..." The man says conversationally.

"It is Tiger." Type groans clutching his injured hand and averts his eyes when the Wolf smirks.

A slash sound is heard and Type notices Thara holding a bloody sword that is now embedded deep inside the stomach of another assailant who has mistakenly come to attack the Wolf from behind.

Then it is all a blur.

Stench of blood fills the air and suddenly Type understands what is happening around him.

"STOP!!! STOP THE ATTACK!"

Type screams, limping after the Wizards who are killing his people left and right.

"Stop!"

Type finally catches the Wolf's hand that is about to slash one of his assailant's neck.

"You cannot do this. They are misunderstood. They think I betra..."

Wolf stares at Type, simply switch his blade to the other hand and slashes the assailant's neck without remorse.

"STOP THIS KILLING!"

It irks and scares Type when Wolf does not even reply and goes back into killing rampage.

"Listen to me! They die, what you are fighting for is worthless. We cannot afford any more deaths."

The Wolf glares at him, stomps to him and Type takes a few steps back fearing a punch.

He watches Thara searching his pockets and to his utter surprise, produces a glue tape and... and...

... covers Type's mouth.

What in the...

Type growls and tries to rip of the tape from his mouth but the Wolf easily catches his fists and ties them together with a metal cuff.

What in the...

Thara throws Type over his shoulder but this time Type's brain is back on track and he kicks nicely to the man's stomach.

A slight groan is all he receives and to his embrassment, Thara places him on top of a bald rock.

"Sit! You can scratch me with your kitty claws later."

If Type could open his mouth, it would be unhinged by now.

Tell, the man has not done just that!

What in the name of hell!

Type wiggles but with a wince he understands the cuffs are magic proofed and he is not escaping that easily.

Shiyaaa!

He has to do something or...

With great efforts, he chants spells after spells until his astral projection leaves his body vessel.

He rushes to Wolf and if it were any other day, any other circumstance, he would have laughed at the expression on the Wolf's masked face.

Damn the humiliation of being bounded against will is worth the man's fear.

Thara looks back to where he is lying unconscious but Type has no time.

"Lisssten to meee..." His voice is so eerie that the Wolf shivers. "Ssstop the killingggg. Youuuu ggain nothinggg but we lossse so muuuch."

The Wolf glares at him but stops fighting.

"Come with me... surrender your loyalty. Or I will destroy this village, like I have destroyed many. Do you think I am incapable of murdering your innocent people?" The Wolf asks.

Type moves away when the man's finger almost brushes his projection.

"Think about this Commander White Kitten..."

"Tigerrr..."

"The Wolf has not massacred a village or killed a necromancer until now for the past three Glaus cycles. Only because Emperor Mew believes in his cause. You join this noble cause and my resolve stays or you can roam around as a ghost all you want but... nothing can stop me."

"Oor... I caaan jusst taaake controol oof your body..."

"Go ahead... Can't wait to feel you..." The Wolf moves closer as if to capture Type's astral projection and trap it inside by himself.

Type jumps away again feeling all sorts of... weird.

"You have ten moments to make up your mind..." The Wolf gives an ultimatum.

Type analyze his options. He has an instinctual feeling if he gets inside the Wolf body, there is no coming back... at least not on his terms.

The aura he sees is of no ordinary man.

"Thaaaaraaa... Pppleaase..." Type rushes after the Wolf who takes the steps with his pack towards the village seemingly tired of waiting for Type's reply. "Thheey innnoocent..."

The Wolf stops and Type floats in front of the man with his pleading eyes.

"What did you just call me?" The Wolf asks and Type frowns.

"Whhaat?"

"Call me that again."

"Pleaaasee..."

"My pack can kill the villagers without my presence, Type."

Type looks back and sees the army has indeed reached the stream.

"Thaaaraaa... Pppleaase..."

The Wolf gulps. "You call me like this once your... 'ghost' joins your body and I am taking you back to my Empire. You listen to the Emperor and then decide, instead of jumping into conclusions."

Type nods eagerly.

"And remember Type, I can always come back and finish what I am not doing now. When we reach the palace, I will show you the schemes and maps I own of your little tribes. Do not for a moment think, you were all hiding. I did not come because I never wanted to... at least not before... seeing you."

Type nods again. What else can he do?

The Wolf is not a person who you can fight alone and come out alive.

The Wolf nods, whistling to call the army back. "Take the rest of the assailants and the dead bodies to the village. Deliver a message about what happens to those who stand against me and..." The Wolf looks at the 'ghost' who has his head ducked down. "...and the one I want."

At the Wolf's nod, Type's projection leaves and joins its body with a spasm.

Type glares at the Wolf when he is picked up easily and thrown over a Snow Leopard - Thara's ride.

"Thiwat... meet my friend, Chopper."

Type wiggles on top of the animal and mewls behind the tape when the Wolf climbs behind him straddling the animal.

The Wolf smiles and removes the tape with ease.

"You are a jerk!!!"

"And you are very honorable." Thara Kirigun says, as the animal starts walking slowly. "Now about our deal..."

"What deal?" Type asks, wiggling and trying spells to remove the cuffs from his wrists.

"Okay then. Chopper, let us go back to Thiwat's village."

"No!!!" Type screams when the animal turns around. "I will do it! I forgot for a moment."

The Wolf pats his animal's scruff and thankfully Chopper turns back but with an annoyed grumble.

"Will you remove the cuff?" Type asks nicely.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"You will claw my eyes out and try to run away while Chopper wanders off. I am not in mood to play tag with two of you."

"I will not run away." Type scowls. Who knows what will happen to the village if he does?

"So you will claw my eyes out. Still a pass."

"You are wearing a mask. Your eyes are safe." Type grumbles rolling his eyes.

"If you wanted to see my face, you should have just told me." The Wolf takes off his mask which disappears when the man swirls his hand but Type turns his face, facing forward.

He does not need to see that face.

"So... Kitten..."

"Tiger!"

"About our deal..."

Type remains silent for a few moments but finally... "Thara..."

Wolf does not say anything and Type has to look back if he has heard it because Type is not going through the humiliation again.

"I never knew my name was this beautiful." The Wolf says before dropping his head on Type's shoulder which he shrugs away with vengeance.

"Satisfied? Type asks.

"Not in a very long time" The stare of Wolf lingers a bit longer on Type's lips.

"What is your first name?" Thara asks and Type scowls.

"Why?"

"Only fair. You got to call me by my first name. We can fight but we both know you called my name on your own the first time."

The silence is not uncomfortable, curiously.

"Type."

"Mhhmm..." Thara hums. "Type Thiwat. Pretty name for a pre... you. How about you call me Thara from now on and I call you Type?"

"Fuck off!!!" Type roars and the jerk laughs.

That is how their journey starts and Type is curious why the man does not use portal. The journey takes little time compared to their last journey because the Snow Leopard is surprisingly so fast.

But Type does not know where he lost the funny Wolf en route.

So, he has defended his people. Just because there is anarchy in their society does not mean they can be killed off.

If killing is the answer then what is going to help them?

An empty university with dead people?

"I can walk." Type says cautiously when Thara picks him up like a bride and storms to the same room he has been staying a guest.

The Wolf remains silent but with the force in his strides Type knows the man is angry.

He hates to admit but the angry Wolf makes him nervous.

The man is a psychotic killer and Type cannot afford to die yet.

Type is placed on the soft cloud bed gently and the man falls to the nearby chair with a loud thud.

"Untie me." Type demands.

The Wolf stands up and looks right into his eyes.

Type wonders why his chakras are not kicking the man out.

"I will bring you food. Stay."

Thara removes his cuffs with a swirl of his forefinger and Type sits up cautiously.

"I am not dead though... not yet. Were the killings necessary?"

"They would have killed you and be done with it... and you know, a dead man cannot fight his wars, no matter how loyal he used to be..." Thara walks to the door but stops just an inch from opening the door.

"You might be a very powerful necromancer, White Kitten... but you cannot create life." Thara Kirigun pauses for a few seconds, looking back at Type with a smile; his eyes dancing on Type's tummy. "... at least cannot bring dead to life."

Type blushes from tip to his toe at the words but the man turns around quickly and scurry off to the night.

Uggh!

Type falls back to the bed, covering his flaming face with his palms.

What is with this... persistent annoying puppy in his life?

What is happening?