Tepic entered the library, closing the door quietly behind him in an attempt not to disturb the Eldest's studies. Though stealth for a moment, the eldest looked up from his tome an greeted the entering captain.

"Ah, Greetings Captain. I trust the battle goes well?" Metellus Spoke.

Tepic saluted regally.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"What brings you to the Cornerstone at this hour? Surely there are matters to attend to...", Metellus chuckled. "As if they ever cease"

"Certainly Eldest, but the Brothers do manage to hold thier own in my absense. It is quite remarkable how impecably they maintain themselves."

Metellus smiled a small, glancing smile.

"Aye, that they do, and that they always have."

Tepic looked puzzled as to the stirring emotions in the Eldest's head, yet remained silent in expectation.

"Still, Captain. What brings you to this old man's lair?", Metellus looked questioningly at Tepic with a sincerity known of his demeanor.

Tepic looked back, trying quickly to gather his thoughts, pausing for a moment as he did. Finally, convinced that he had collected his thoughts appropriately, he spoke.

"Lissith told me of your sickness several winters ago. How you bound yourself in isolation...the nights of madness...the stories that would be heard in the halls during the midnight hour. "

Metellus looked back, somewhat distant, but nodded for Tepic to continue.

"Fogive me Brother, but my confusion comes from this...it is by my Sister's account that you never returned to battle after this Madness. Is this true?", Tepic looked inquisitively.

Metellus stood for a moment in almost a half-daze, and then walked to the window, overlooking the nearby lake. The stillness of the water gave perfect reflection to the near-full moon.

"Yes, that is correct.", Metellus replied, very quietly.

Tepic hesitated, perhaps expecting more, but continued besides.

"If it is not too much of me to ask, Brother. What of this madness stilled your arrow? Your prowess in Battle was not one to be thrown aside...yet without a second chance it was...", Tepic looked for the words, unable to continue on his inquisition.

"Tepic, please, sit for a moment's rest if you will...", Spoke Metellus, never diverting attention from the moon's image.

Tepic did as asked and took place with the old oaken stool by the centerdesk, allowing a moment for his armor to adjust to the position.

"It came as a vision, moreso a dream, the kind wherewith a thousand images fill your mind without mercy, without reason, without order.", Metellus closed his eyes.

"I saw a serpent and a hawk, engaged in battle in an endless, black horizon. In a swift, gracefull move, the hawk swept down and broke the serpent's neck in two. The Hawk, in victory, returned to it's nest, with suspision exhausted, to be devoured by the very serpent whom he had slain. This image repeated, continued, unceasingly. I could not remove the image from my mind. I could feel it burning, as if my thoughts were held to the fire and could not be removed...", Metellus flinched a moment, but continued.

"Then visions of home came. But not as memory. I saw Castle Arregaltania, her walls crushed, her people strewn and bleeding. Fire burned where fire fed. There was not to be seen a single soul, save one. In the courtyard, as I approached, was a Lady of immesurable beauty. Her gown surpassed reality, as it swayed in the wind as if it were made of water. And her eyes...a glimpse at her eyes and all else dissolved into oblivion, lost in the pale blue vision, when she spoke...or at least that is what it seemed. It was more as if she was constructing words inside my mind, rather than speaking with the voice of a human. There were more than I could take, more than I could recall. I tried to tell her, but it would not stop. More came, images of the Liberation, images of the Establishment, and images of the Fall of the nation, coming faster and faster. I screamed, unable to continue.", Metellus opened his eyes, and turned to face his company.

"When I awoke, I was in the cellar, without memory of arrival there, nor of the days upon days that the Brothers speak of. I worked swiftly to assemble the frightening myriad of images onto parchment, but I fear the vast majority were lost to my own feeble mind..."

"But of all the realizations of the time, one is the most lingering, and most painful..."

Tepic listened, hoping to hear what he had been seeking.

"We, as Amn, are an Alien entity to this world. The purpose which we serve, to bring justice to the hypocrits and the murderers, to see thier blood spilled under the blade of righteousness, is nothing but a idealogical mirage. A thousand deaths will not see the end of the wicked, nor does the valiant sacrifice of life on the side of the righteous accomplish any discernable goal. There is but one battle to be one, and that battle is our own. It is fought within these walls, within the cornerstone. Knowledge..."

Metellus walked about the tomes, fingering though a few as he passed.

"Tis not weapons, nor strength, nor numbers that gives a man power. We cannot follow the paths of those who destroy themselves and thier ideals for the path of power and annihilation. That battle will never be won. However it is our spirit that enlightens us. One another, Brother to Brother...we are our hope, our power, our liberation. Within these walls I have seen the most amazing tales, events, deeds, and gatherings, and in Dereth I have seen naught but endless backstabbing, bloodshed, and hypocracy. "

Metellus walked to Tepic leaned over, and spoke directly.

"I did not leave the battle. I sought the conflict to be won, the conflict that would not claim my soul as it's casualty. The Brotherhood to me is the greatest victory. The days of Righteousness are made by our hands...here.", Metellus walked to the door. Tepic was silent, lost in the ocean of confrontation, slowly trying to find himself in the assault of truth.

"We were, and so we will be...togeather", Metellus took his absense.

Tepic sat alone, in the dim candle-lit room. Gathering himself to his feet, walked slowly to the window. The moon had now moved to the horizon, and the lake all but obscured from vision.

Images of his home, of his father, raced though Tepic's exhausted mind. The festivals and the flames, the studies and the siege, the banishment and the abandonment. Tepic slowly produced his Katar from his sachel. He watched the demascented blade as it flickered in the candlelight, and saw images of his father's heaume, reflecting the light of the siege fires as he dissappeared for the last time. A drop of blood touched the floor. The Journey to the encampment. Another drop. The hunger of starvation. Another. The fires of siege. Again. Salvation...

"Tepic?!", Lissith's frightened scream from the library reverberated thought the halls of the cornerstone.