Renauld’s office on the second floor of the Bastion was really more like another apartment for the Healer. Well, now that I thought about it, it might be his primary place of residence these days. I rarely saw him leave our headquarters for the home he shared with Liora. The Gnoll was the very definition of a workaholic.

  The office may only be a single room, but that hadn’t stopped Renauld from shoving a small bed into one corner, a compact enchanted stove, and a tiny circular table. Of which Sylvia, Walter, and I had joined the suddenly morose Gnoll at, when my partner and I found him. As expected, Renauld had already broken out a familiar bottle of Gnollish liquor. Every time I even sipped at the bitter alcohol, my cheeks twitched from the effort of hiding a grimace.

  Renauld had barely acknowledged Sylvia and mine entrance beyond a welcoming grunt. It had been Walter who had gotten down a pair of glasses for us. But I hadn’t been expecting more than this from my Healer friend. When Renauld got morose, he needed…social lubricant, in order to open up.

  Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes of patiently sitting around while the Gnoll grew ever tipsier, the booze did its job.

  “I never wanted to see that asshole again,” Renauld finally muttered, staring down into the inky black, oily liquid in his crystal tumbler. A scowl grew on his lips as he spoke. “Just the sight of him pisses me off and reminds me why I left.”

  Sylvia and I exchanged a quick glance, and at her raised eyebrow, I nodded ever so slightly. I turned back to Renauld. “You’ve…never really spoken about that,” I said slowly, as if I was trying not to spook a wild animal. “All you’ve ever said about why you chose to attend the Academy was that you didn’t fit into the Throng.”

  Renauld laughed bitterly, shrugging one shoulder. “That’s true, I didn’t,” He nodded, not looking up from his drink. “I don’t. I…really fit in more here in Blutstein. Isn’t it funny that I’m not comfortable among my own people? Isn’t it a laugh that even the thought of living in the caravan is enough to make my fur stand on end?”

  He…didn’t sound like he was about to laugh. Instead, Renauld almost sounded like he was about to start crying for a moment.

  In response, Sylvia reached out and laid one comforting hand on the one Renauld wasn’t clutching desperately to his liquor. That…seemed to comfort him, drawing a faint, wan smile from the Gnoll. Enough that he rallied and continued after a moment to gather himself.

  “I don’t…really care anymore, about the secrecy,” Renauld said, finally looking up and meeting my eyes. “Not when we’re barely hanging on through godsdamned apocalypse. It’s so…petty. I realized that a while ago, now. They drill it into all of us from a young age. ‘You can’t talk about our business to the pinkskins, ’ He mocked, in a high-pitched voice. “‘We’re alone on Vereden, nobody likes us. The children of Rawaia must stand together against those who wish us harm’. Screw it all. It took me too long to realize it’s just a method of control by the Matrons, even after I left.”

  Rawaia…where had I heard that before? I think that was the name for one of the other planets that had been linked to the portal network, before Vereden was cut off in the War in Heaven.

  “I’m guessing you left because of your Father,” I said quietly, drawing his attention.

  In response, a new scowl grew over Renauld's face. “I don’t even like calling him that,” He said bitterly, before sighing. “But kinda. I...I’m…okay. A little background, I suppose, on how the Throng is governed. We’re ruled by the Matron’s Council, nine women who have borne Gnoll children successfully. These positions are held for life. And each Matron has a Commandant, the Father of their children. The Matrons rule the Throng, while the Commandants are charged with protecting the Throng and leading our warriors.”

  Walter blinked rapidly, one hand around the glass of liquor he hadn’t even taken a single sip from. “So…you’re a kind of Prince in the Throng?”

  That startled what sounded like a real laugh out of Renauld. “Gods no! We don’t have things like that. I don’t think even the original Gnollish clans back on Rawaia ever had social classes like yours. No, the whole royalty stuff that you pinkskins do isn’t for us. I mean, yeah, I was more important growing up, I guess,” He shrugged. “People didn’t bow and scrape in front of me like they do with your royals. It was more like…I got a nicer steak for dinner, but still ate with everyone else. And then, my Mother just…left.”

  I blinked, exchanging a startled look with Sylvia. “Left? What do you mean, left?”

  Renauld snorted bitterly, taking a quick sip of his liquor before he continued. “I mean just that. One day, for no reason anyone was ever able to figure out, she disappeared in the middle of the night. At first, people were afraid she’d been kidnapped or something. That the Humans or the Dwarves had taken one of our Matrons hostage to control us. But, no. I didn’t know this, but apparently, Mother had packed up a bunch of her things and then just…vanished. An investigation from the Commandants later revealed she had been squirreling away supplies for a while for some kind of trip. My Fa-Marcel only told me this when I turned sixteen,” He said, a mirthless smile stealing across his vulpine lips. “The day after I was Awakened, actually. My gift from him for gaining a Status was to learn that my Mother apparently abandoned our entire people, for no reason anyone could determine. At the very least…it was an explanation. After she left, attitudes towards me suddenly changed. Now I was no longer the first among equals in the eyes of the adults. I was the spawn of the deserter, the only Matron in the history of the Throng who fled her duties. I was an outcast, but Marcel wasn’t. He was the innocent male who was fooled by a duplicitous coward. His position among the Commandants was never affected by her betrayal, while I was tainted.”

  There was an ocean of resentment in bitterness in his tone, then. Something I don’t think I would ever really be able to really understand.

  But it did explain a lot about the Gnoll.

  “I’m sorry, Renauld,” Sylvia said quietly, squeezing his hand. “That must have been hard.”

  My head Healer only spared her a quick nod before he continued his ranting. Renauld was getting more worked up than I think I had ever seen him before, and who could blame him? I think this was probably decades of grievance that he was finally airing. “And then, and then, get this. Do you know what he told me then? He said I needed to join the Mother’s Claw to attone for the sins of my blood! That bastard had already signed me up for training! And you know the WORST PART!?” He abruptly stood up from his chair and hurled his glass of liquor. I had to duck to avoid the spray, as it shattered against the door to his room. When I looked up, I saw a very animalistic snarl on Renauld’s face. “I WENT THROUGH WITH IT! I was a kid! I didn’t know any better! So I did as I was told, and meekly submitted to the training! I thought…I thought…”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  As Renauld lost steam and slumped into his chair, I was surprised when Walter spoke next. “You thought that if you just went along with what you were told, that things would go better for you,” My squire said quietly. “That obedience would be repaid with kindness, and the people deciding your fate would…stop mistreating you.” He shook his head. “But you were wrong. Instead, the opposite happened, didn’t it? Things only got worse.”

  As Renauld raised his head to stare at Walter as if he had never seen the young man before, I let out a long, slow breath through my nose.

  I see.

  Walter had experienced something similar, after all.

  “…yes,” Renauld breathed. “Years later, I…think it was because I was submitting. By meekly rolling over and accepting my fate, it…it told everyone who hated me that I was free game. People who I’d grown up with in the training program were suddenly treating me like shit. I was the lowest person in the pack. Initially, I…didn’t really intend to become a Healer. It’s not the most prestigious position in the Mother’s Claw, being the squad Healer. I was just…forced into it. Like all things, though, I eventually hit a breaking point. After way too long just taking it from everyone, I…left. I ran away to Blutstein, penniless and with nothing to my name, the next time the Throng was anywhere close to the city. Once I got here, I worked for years in the lower layer clinics to make a living. First as an orderly, and then as a nurse, once I proved myself. Then, when I’d made enough gold to pay for enrollment…I joined the Academy, as I originally intended to.” He laughed, then, his mood lifting for some reason. “But I only got to attend for a year before I was thrown into Caer Drarrow, once the war started. To be honest…I don’t even remember what the charges were. Something about helping heal someone in the Uprising? But from there, you guys…know everything else.”

  “And now, you were face to face…” Sylvia started slowly. “With Marcel, for the first time in years. It must have been quite the shock to see him again.”

  Renauld shrugged one shoulder. “I guess. I, uh…I kind of started the argument,” He admitted sheepishly. “I just…we saw each other, and it all came pouring out. That old man hasn’t changed a bit. But, to be honest, think I just don’t care about him anymore. Sometimes, you can’t rebuild a bridge that was only made of twigs in the first place. I’m fine with us never reconciling. Frankly…I prefer it.”

  As Renauld finished his explanation, I reached up to stroke my chin and the five o’clock shadow up on it. I ignored the scratching as I puzzled over something he’d say. “What happened to your Mother?” I wondered out loud, drawing everyone’s attention. “I mean, she can’t have just disappeared. Was she unhappy, or something?”

  “I…” Renauld blinked before shaking his head. “If I recall right, nobody knows. There wasn’t a note, and none of the trackers the Throng sent out ever found a whiff of the woman. She was just gone one day. To be honest…it hurts to think about her. She was the best part of our life, really. Mother always made time for me and Marcel, even with as busy as she was. I just…don’t know what could have possessed her to abandon us. I just wish…” He bowed his head in frustration.

  “Wish what?” Sylvia prompted after a moment of continued silence.

  Strangely, Renauld jerked in place, his head shooting up as if he had forgotten we were here. As he looked first from Sylvia, to Walter, to me, an embarrassed look stole over his black and white features. “Ahh…I’m not sure I should say…” He said hesitantly. “Liora would kill me if she knew I was talking about this.”

  I blinked in confusion, shooting a glance over at Syliva. She just shook her head, as baffled as I was. “What does Liora have to do with any of this?”

  As far as I was aware, our other Gnoll friend and companion was still out there somewhere, part of the combined Order forces that had departed to hunt down a rogue monster horde. I was less worried about them than I had been about Sylvia, if only because Grey and Honoka were part of that expedition. Those two were powerful enough that I was confident they could have shielded everyone from the Skyfall long enough to save them from the worst of the initial pressure.

  Renauld visibly hemmed and hawed for a moment before drumming his claws on the table. “Okay, look,” He finally said. “You guys…you know that Gnolls are a bit…different, when it comes to breeding rights?”

  No fucking way.

  I didn’t realize I’d said that aloud until I saw Renauld wince in front of me, and I got a pinch on my arm from a disapproving Sylvia. At the foul look I was getting from my partner, I winced and held up my hands in apology. I got one last look from Sylvia before she turned back to Renauld. “Please, continue.”

  “Um, well…” Renauld said hesitantly. “Breeding rights are kind of…assigned, by a body separate from the Matrons. They track genealogies pretty strictly, and know just who everyone is related to, and how closely, for the entire length of time Gnolls have been on Vereden. It’s…the only way to make sure kits don’t come out…wrong. Even people who don’t live in the Throng abide by their ‘suggestions’. We all know it’s the only way the Gnolls can keep surviving as a people. So, uh…not long after we all got here in Blustein, Liora and I were…contacted by one of their representatives.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I felt an almost delirious smile work its way onto my lips as I saw Walter’s eyes grow as wide as dinner plates.

  “So, you and Liora…?” Sylvia breathed excitedly.

  “Uh…yeah,” Renauld rubbed his forehead, and the white mark that stood out prominently on it against his black fur. In my time knowing the Gnoll, I had learned it was his most prominent nervous tic. “We were told we should have…kits. Not anytime soon,” He said hastily. “Just sometime before we reach the Third Breakpoint, to maximize…conception chance. We’re…apparently very compatible, genealogically speaking. Plus, we have similar enough coat coloring that it won’t ruin the uniqueness of our own. So, we moved in together to test the future waters. It’s been going…okay. I could do worse for the Mother of my kits.”

  Almost numbly, Walter nodded his head. “Yes, you’re both very…monochrome.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Renauld rolled his eyes.

  “How does that work?” I asked him, fascinated despite myself. “Doesn’t Liora, you know…prefer something a little different than…” I groped for words for a moment before deciding a hand gesture would do the trick.

  At the wild, disbelieving laugh I got from Renauld, and the wide-eyed, scandalized look from Walter, I assumed my point got across.

  Apparently, what I did wasn’t appropriate enough. I received a hard punch in the shoulder from a very metallic fist. I yelped in a manner much like the foxes Gnolls resembled, and held up a hand in surrender before Sylvia’s scowl.

  I don’t know what the problem was. She’d sure enjoyed it earlier.

  “It’s…it’s fine, Sylvia,” Renauld chuckled, waving my joke off. “To answer your question…it’s not like we’re married, like you pinksins do. We’re just going to have kits together. We’re still free to have partners, like you two are. Liora will find her own someone, just like I will. One day. I only wish…Mother was around to see them.”

  As Sylvia reached to grab Renauld’s hand once more to comfort the downcast Gnoll, I sat back and wondered.

  Just what had happened to Renauld’s Mother?