"Aves, have I ever told you that I think you're nuts? I don't mean this as an insult, but... seriously. Aves, are you even listening to me?" asks Sweep, waving a paw in front of my face as I enter the dining room the next morning. "Avery."

"What?" I snap, turning around, heart pulsing. I realize too late I've snapped and shuffle my wings. "S-sorry, I'm a little tired."

"Yeah, a little." Sweep says. "Are you sure you want to do this? Not too late to turn around. Hei- I mean, her Grand Auspicia, she said this was just some supplementary field work for you, to help with your newest project. It's not that important."

"Field work. Right. Yeah." I burn with guilt. Even though there's no way I can tell her why I really need to start working with Defenders, 'supplementary field work' for my new novel was by far the dumbest excuse I could have made up. Her Grand Auspicia doesn't know a thing about my collection of... interesting pieces, some of which may or may not involve her. Her giving me clearance and several days of training with the Alpha Defender squadrons for a novel is ridiculous.

If Sweep wasn't so attractive and I could speak coherently around her, none of this would've happened. Curse my ability to somehow nab the most beautiful Canira in all of Dreamland as a friend.

"Avery, are you even in there?"

I sigh, focusing at the job at hand. "Kind of? I was up late." I say, which is the one truthful thing I've said all day. I spent most of the night lying awake in my bed, thinking about the impending fate of the world, and writing in my personal journal. All in all I'm running on fumes, which is possibly the worst thing one can be when they're about to work out with Alpha squadron Defenders.

Luckily, finding the Defenders doesn't take too much brainpower, seeing as they're the only other Sentients up this early.

They're sitting at a long table (and I do mean long- it crosses the whole room), which is packed in spite of its gargantuan size, but for my chief strategic move of the day I veer off towards the smaller tables near the corners and talk to the lone Canis sitting there, her head on her paws and her paws against the table. She looks half-awake, to a further extent than I do, and when her eyes rove over me they're bloodshot in the corners.

"You're head tactician, correct?" I ask Plumeria.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose so. We've not been in a time of war for reigns, so I manage the Defenders assignments and movements. Why do you need to speak to a tactician, anyways?"

"Novel research... very important project. I have clearance." I blurt the last sentence at the end, if only because Plumeria's sideways glance informs me that she doesn't believe a word I'm saying.

She doesn't probe me, though, instead she offers: "You'll want to speak with Marie. She's one of the more elite members, and she usually deals with... outsiders."

"Oh, joy." Sweep groans.

"I guess I'll have to go find her." I say.

"No worries, she's right there."

Marie swivels around just as Plumeria points her way and glares at us from a distance. I know it's not directed towards me, seeing as I'm hardly worth her malice, but Sweep is a different matter. Her Evelscan heritage has always been somewhat of a sore spot, and seeing as the Evelscan queen (subordinate to her Grand Auspicia, of course) sent Sweep and Quill over here for diplomatic relations herself, Marie has been less than welcoming to them both.

"Good luck," Sweep tells me. "I'm out of here."

She flicks her tail on the way out, fanning out all her tail feathers in a huff. I grimace as I watch her leave, knowing this can only end badly. Marie says, "So, you need me for something?"

"Novel... research." I say, though the words sound less clear by the second. There's something electric, almost paralyzing about her stare.

Marie's snout furls into an expression of firm dislike. "Right this way," she says.

I can imagine Sweep yelling at me in the distance. In reality, she's probably in the library, pretending to pour over some books with Quill, but still.

I can't stop myself from shuddering from nerves. Marie notices I'm uneasy, I can see it in her eyes, but she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she leads me down another set of stairs into the first underground floor, then down another winding staircase further into the earth. The stairs are much skinnier, and they'd be a disaster for any being larger than the two of us. A lot of the underground areas are like that- cramped, with long meandering hallways that lead nowhere. The relics of the past live here, with assorted bunkers for protection from various eras and doors that lead into rooms that once housed arguing soldiers or diplomats from other continent or even worlds.

Her High Auspicia has a tendency to build new ones instead of changing the plaques on the old ones and reusing them. The hallways have a tendency to gather dust. They don't know that they'll be waiting here, alone, for a long time.

Marie walks up to what seems like just another room, albeit one with a large sensor to the right. She taps her nose against its dark, reflective purpose and it beeps. The entire wall opens up, sliding neatly into the rooms next to it, and we walk into a completely empty space as white as fresh snow. The walls slide back closed, sealing us inside, and I get the uneasy fear of a prey animal just moments before it's killed.

"What's this?" I ask. It's not what it appears, I can tell from the way my voice bounces off the walls. It's as if they're playing with my voice, running it over and changing it each time.

"Projection room." Marie says. "My personal projection room, to be exact. Never mind that right now. So... why are you really here?"

"What?" I ask, taken aback.

"Security clearance for research on a book? We don't give that out." Marie scoffs. "Anyways, your four-winged friend isn't here right now. We don't need to keep any secrets from each other."

"I'm here on direct orders from Her High Auspicia. She's your boss, too, so if I were you I'd be a little more tactful around me." I say, hoping I haven't incriminated myself.

My false bravado seems to have deterred her from picking on me, however, or else distracted her, because she just mutters, "Direct orders..." before perking her ears up in realization. "Oh, you're the new strategist. Apologies."

"Yeah, you are sorry." I mutter under my breath.

"Too far, newbie. Back in line."

"Sorry." I echo.

Marie flicks her tail just to the right and looks past me at the other wall. "Activate logistics." she says. A large board of symbols appears on the opposite wall, vibrant as if they'd been painted onto it, yet flickering with life. There's a huge map plastered in the center, which is filled with dots, not assimilar to a population map. The sides are lined with names and dots that must represent different Defenders and their squadrons as they're represented on the map. The sheer number is astounding, covering almost all the major cities and flecking all three continents. "So," Marie says, "You see what you're dealing with."

I nod.

"Why did you feel the need to tell them you were going to be working on a project for the library?" Marie asks as she circles the room, pausing occasionally to tap in some passcode or fiddle with some switches.

"I-I didn't have any way to explain the circumstances behind my sudden shift of occupation." I tell her. "Why would anyone ever want me as a strategist? I've studied, sure, but it just seems... sudden."

"Yes, that would be the question." Marie sighs. "Though if I was to guess... Heilin told you about the impending Obsidian invasion, didn't she?"

"She told you?" I say, feeling an unexpected tug of envy at my heart. How often does Her High Auspicia give out information like this? Was I really a special case or just the hundredth Sentient in line?

"Yes. Given that we'll be defending all of you when worst comes to worst, it would be imperative she told us. We always know about impending catastrophe, and the Obsidians have been the greatest threat to our world since its conception." Marie continues, "Immediate threats occasionally arise from infighting, but they're not as common. We have been having some trouble with Evelscan diplomacy." Her glare is pointed. "Evelscans. Can't trust 'em."

"Seems like a broad generalization." I snap.

Marie doesn't respond to the accusation. Instead, she punches in some more passcodes and the floor below me lights up with a small diagram. It shows a small cluster of Sentients, all grayed out, standing on a field. Another group, highlighted in red, stands on the other side.

"Anyhow, I need you try this." she tells me. "You can split up or move the army around as you please by pushing and then dragging forwards. Tap to regroup or view your individual members. When you push a group into the enemy, they attack. Your job is to maximize effectiveness and minimize casualty."

"Do I get multiple chances?"

"Oh no. There are no second chances in war." When I frown, squinting at the (suddenly far more frightening) rows of enemy Defenders, she adds, "There's a timer, too."

I draw my 'forces' straight forwards and the gray Sentients charge. The enemies all but disappear, with the last few turning tail to flee.

"Head on." Marie says. "I suppose you have a good reason for deciding to choose such a simple tactic?"

"First of all, there were no other objects in the environment with which to hide or otherwise interact, and second, our numbers were larger. Furthermore, you can't count on matching up your troops one to one in a real battle, and I assume Defenders would know who to aggress to best play to their strengths anyways. It was a simple problem, it didn't necessitate a complicated solution."

"Then I suppose you're fine with this?" she asks, waving a paw over a small red bar in the top corner. It displays 2 in bright lettering: a casualty counter.

"I did what I could. If I'm doing something wrong here, I'd suggest you tell me now. I literally just got assigned to this this morning."

"No, no... go ahead." Marie says, and the scene shifts. This time, there are trees in the area, with a river between us and our foes, who aren't waiting around for me. The enemy is already charging. I'd imagine at this point it'd be too late to call a strategist in, but for the sake of the test, I'll do what I can. I move some of my Felis troops into the trees and take full advantage of my semiaquatic members ability to negate loss of mobility in the river. The different types of troops are not only useful but also more or less true to life, at least from my knowledge.

When I finish, another test pops up on the screen. All of them seem more or less basic- you can take the high road here for the vantage point, scatter the group into smaller units to attack the isolated, larger enemies, and you get certain bonuses and reduce certain risks for pairing this or that unit. I learn quickly that same elements go together best and the general rule seems to be that dragons will kill anything in their paths. I don't know how many dragons are enrolled in the Defenders, given their somewhat finnicky nature, but if this is how real battles go, I hope I get assigned a few.

The casualty counter has continued to grow, which is a little morbid for such a basic simulator, but I get the uneasy feeling that it's there to teach me a lesson early on. I slide one group around, pull my two dragons forth, and add in an aerial Canira to help us get some sky coverage. While the opponents are distracted, my ground troops rush in from both sides. I slide them around the terrain a few times, keeping the opponent on their paws, and the battle ends with no more than three casualties in an army of hundreds.

Marie looks at the screen and with an upwards swipe of her paw, the simulation disappears. "Not bad. Not all that impressive, either, but certainly not awful. Before you go to meet the actual Defenders you're going to work with, I'd like to run you through some more complex diagnostics. Can you handle that?"

I tilt my ears up in surprise, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel. "Oh. Sure! Is this going to be a reoccurring thing, or should I think of another excuse, or..."

"Absolutely ridiculous," Marie mutters as if I can't hear her. She informs me, "You can tell them you've been promoted to strategist... or something. I don't know, don't drag me into your problems. Just show up at sunset tomorrow, alright?"

I nod, which seems to be enough for her. She leads me back up the stairs, her pace steady as it was on the way down. I'm feeling more fatigued than I realize, which is strange given that I didn't do much.

When we get to the main floor, Marie pauses, as if surprised I'm still following her.

"You're dismissed, feathers. Get some rest." she tells me.

Feathers.

She's awful at nicknames. I feel a pang of sympathy for her squadron. Still, I nod again, watching her turn down the hall into the Defenders' area of the castle, and hear distant chatter coming from one of the rooms as it opens to let her in. Light streams out of it, and I can see the glitter in Marie's eyes even from this far away. "Yeah, yeah... just doing some testing with a newbie. No big deal." she tells someone on the inside. Her voice is so strong it echoes down the halls.

I'd better get going.

Despite everything, the library is just as solemn as ever. The double doors, flung open, are cold, ornate, and intimidating despite their familiarity. I get a slight chill as I walk in, feeling something ruffle up the fur all the way down my back.

Nerves, I decide, it's just nerves.

It's hushed inside, with Quill and Sweep lying on top of a nearby table and a general spread of bored-looking Sentients clustered throughout the rest of it. The windows let in a stream of red-hued light from the sunset outside. I'm not sure if I expected it to be earlier or later, but I'm hungry and my eyes sting from the harsh light of the projection room. I slump myself against the side of the table, placing my snout on the edge, and groan quietly.

"How'd it go?" Quill asks as I approach, tail waving in imitation of the canine gesture for greetings. It looks a bit strange, paired with her so obviously not canine face, but I suppose if one wants to get around in a society dominated by the Canis and Canira, one has to take on a few of their mannerisms. I can't help but glance at the crystal lodged in her ear, a symbol of her Evelscan heritage. Sweep's ear has a nick where hers used to be.

Even though Quill's crystal isn't lit, and hence is doing nothing, it's still enough to get most Opphemrians (from our lovely continent of Opphemria) to avoid her at all costs.

Evelscans, I hear Marie's voice mutter in my head. Can't trust 'em.

"They must've really dazed you. You okay in there? Avery?"

"Oh- sorry, just... distracted. Anyhow, it was fine. I think Marie was just trying to intimidate me." I mutter.

"Well, did she?" asks Sweep, who is pretending to be immersed in a book about fixing ventilation leaks she likely snatched off the nearest shelf so she could pretend to be busy when I came in.

"I... think I'm okay." I assure her.

"Will you be out full time for this project, Avery? Someone might take your record while you're out." Maple says, hobbling over to the table to see me.

"No one's going to beat my record." I object.

"Bells is working on it."

"I can flip pages twice as fast as she can. She's two feet tall."

Alerted by her own name, the Susurri scrambles forth and hauls herself up onto the table. "I heard my name. Are you all discussing the record for most books read this reign?" Though she's smaller than any other Sentient in the castle I know, it would be hard to mistake her for a regular mouse. Her dark eyes, white pupiled, fix me with a steady, solemn gaze. "You do have a nice record, Avery. It would be a shame if someone managed to take it right out from under your nose with their two inch paws."

"I don't know. I might come out of left field and take it first." calls Aidan from the back of the room.

"Do I get bonus points for reading whatever this is? This thing is thicker than most of your Defenders." Sweep says, indicating the massive volume she's been reading.

"First of all, rude. Second, maybe if you actually read it, Sweep." I laugh, then a little more solemnly, decide to break the news to them. "Anyhow, speaking of the 'project', uh, that's not the only thing I'm in there for. I've been promoted to strategist."

Quill perks up, Sweep's facial expression turns to a dismayed grimace in seconds, and Maple just glares shrewdly at me.

"'Promoted'? Did you seriously just say 'promoted'?" says the elder librarian.

"Okay, okay, it's a 'position change', no need to get huffy over it..." I say.

"Why would they put you in as a strategist?" Sweep asks, her voice high with concern.

"I have no idea," I say, then the realization of just how truthful the statement is hits me like a brick. "Dear Verhamera, I have no idea." 

(IT HAS BEEN A WHILE. I TRY GUYS I TRY)