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Battle Master

Chapter 1

copyright 2014 comidacomida

Baedyn sat with his eyes closed, back resting against the cold stone wall of his cell as his fur puffed up against the late fall chill. Although the exact passage of time was meaningless in the tower prison the Wolf would have estimated that it had been nearly an entire day since he'd bothered opening them. The way he figured, there was little in the small cell that he hadn't already seen often over the course of almost seventeen years. Besides, there were far more interesting things for him to see with his eyes closed.

The blackness wasn't all encompassing... far from it, in fact. Holding his left paw up in front of his face, Baedyn could still see the myriad glowing symbols-- the Fildoma that were spiritually inscribed in a swirling pattern from his elbow to his palm. Although the exact meaning of the arcane marks were unknown even to him the general purpose behind having them was clear: it identified him as a Sorran... One of Fate... even if his was a 'borrowed power'.

It had been weeks since he'd last had a reason to speak so the exhausted, raspy tone to his voice startled him when he reiterated "Borrowed."

He laughed; the sound echoed around the room at an ear-numbing volume compared to the near silence in which he'd been living. He laughed; the Wolf was overcome by the insidious nature of fate and the way the Sorra-- the prophecy had come true. He laughed; they always came true. He laughed-- astounded that he was still in disbelief after the better part of two decades. He laughed and laughed and laughed, until he cried.

Eyes still closed, the all-white Wolf thought back to the time when he wore the Fildoma on his right paw; it was the time when he was the Soraan he had been born to be. The lupine prisoner had been called a Sorraachan-- a Fate Spinner, and he could do more than see what would or could be; he could influence it. Of course, it was just one more reason he had ended up a prisoner even if hadn't realized it at at the time. No; that was one thing his power could not help him see.

The marks on his right paw-- he hadn't been born with those; they had belonged to his brother. Looking at the glowing marks through his closed eyelids, Baedyn watched them move in time with every gesture. The very power they gave him was the exact reason why his brother now bore his; the bearer of a right-paw Fildoma could take the power of another Soraan and gift them the ability to take another's. The act required the willingness of both parties. It was a pact, and it was one to which Baedyn was still being held: a pact with his younger brother.

Baedyn was the elder and he knew he had to protect his sibling. In truth, they were twins and the difference in their age was a matter of minutes but that didn't change the duty he felt to protect his brother. The decision to exchange Fildoma wouldn't have been easy to make in a normal situation but with the limited time they had it was done without a even a minute of consideration. His brother's mistake was a big one but it wasn't worth his life being ruined, and so Baedyn insisted on the switch; twins were not easily told apart and the guards knew only that the Wolf they wanted had the Fildoma on his right paw.

Baedyn was a survivor; Baedyn was the strong one; Baedyn would be able to last seventeen years and four days of captivity where his younger brother could not. Fate said that the bearer of the right-paw Fildoma would become their lord's tool, locked away, and that was something his little brother did not have the will to survive. Baedyn could, and once the reason for the captivity became evident it was a switch the elder brother was willing to make.

Raising his left paw in the blackness surrounding him, Baedyn finally opened his eyes; it didn't make much difference since it was dark out and the only window in his cell was high overhead-- scarcely large enough to let in the starlight. The room, however was not as dark as he had expected; his Fildoma glowed. There was no reason for the symbols to create anything more than a faint degree of illumination unless--

Baedyn quickly scrambled up to his feet when he saw the glow intensify. It had started at his elbow and was slowly expanding along the marks down toward his wrist, snaking its way over the top of his forearm and then back under it before curling around his paw. Finally, for the first time since he and his brother had been separated the final symbol on his palm blazed into light. That could mean only one thing: his brother was returning.

The Wolf rubbed the thumb of his right paw over the Fildoma, shivering at the coldness to it. It _had_been seventeen years, and that meant that his time as his lord's prisoner and minion was drawing to an end. Gazing across the cell toward the door that barred him from his freedom the Wolf knew it was only a matter of time before he would be liberated-- before his brother would come for him. Baedyn whispered the name he'd spent half his life saying only in his mind. "Talvin."

* * * * *

The night had passed slowly for the imprisoned Wolf and he found it hard to sleep not just from the cold but also due to his anticipation of things to come. Baedyn spent the hours in a trance that was more draining than it was restful. For the first time in a long time the Wolf made use of his connection with fate for his own benefit. He sought out the invisible threads of fortune that flowed through the ether, connecting everyone and everything in a tapestry of such complexity that it was almost impossible for anyone to follow-- anyone except for a Sorran who had nothing to do but study it for the better part of two decades.

There had been a transition in his craft in the beginning that had brought with it a tough learning curve. Both he and his twin had realized their talents by their tenth birthday and Baedyn's experience with touching fate also included plucking the threads and making slight alterations to the world around him. After surrendering that power to Talvin it completely changed his outlook on the world and meant that he was suddenly shoved aside, forced thereafter to be an observer and no longer an active participant-- not just y because he could no longer affect fate but also because he was no longer in charge of his own destiny.

Locked away in the highest tower in Izleagol's castle fortress until called upon by the lord responsible for his incarceration, Baedyn had gone seventeen years with no control over his life. His entire world for six out of seven days was his small cell and he was only taken out when the lord of Izleagol had need of his service; it had been much less often in recent years than had been the case during the start of his tenure. It made the visit all the more unexpected that morning when Baedyn heard the sound of footfall in the lone stairwell that led up to his prison.

The Wolf looked up from his place on the floor as a slot in the door opened and a decrepit pair of canine paws motioned to him through the slot; Baedyn recognized them immediately. Vyodir was the eldest of his three jailors and also the one who had been at his post the longest; he was also the only one who took great care of his claws, cutting and blunting them with almost obsessive precision. The Coyote motioned to him before speaking, his old voice cracking and warbling with the effort to be heard through the door. "Well... don't just sit there, boy. Stand up and come here."

Unlike his other two wardens, Vyodir spoke to him in the Vensian tongue. It wasn't so much that the Coyote wanted to teach him anything as it was a selfish desire; though Baedyn had never so much set foot in Vensii the old Coyote preferred the language of his birth nation and used it at every opportunity. Baedyn learned over the years that Vydoir had left his homeland and traveled to Tenvier due to a misunderstanding with his Vensian lord; it was almost ironic that a similar 'misunderstanding' with a Tenvierian noble that led the Wolf to his indentured servitude.

Baedyn slowly stood, using the wall for support. He looked to the open slot in the door as he pondered why the Coyote would be the one to tend to him; he hasn't seen Vyodir in months. The Wolf stood regardless and slowly shuffled his way to to the exit. He took a moment to formulate his question; had he not spoken Vensian for so long that he'd forgotten what to say or how to say it? No; he remembered. "Why would the Lord of Stone call for me? It is not yet mid-week-- is it?"

The Coyote didn't respond until Baedyn slid his paws through the opening in the door. The Wolf winced as he felt the cold metal bite into his wrists as his jailor secured the manacles. Once they were in place Vyodir explained with a simple declaration. "The Lord of Stone means to have you dine with him this morning."

Tenvier had 12 lords, each responsible for one of their grand city states. Elsewhere in the world Baedyn had heard that nobles were were referred to by their first name or their family name but in Tenvier each was given their title based on the realm they governed. Lord Loris Pyazo, Izlegaol's ruler was the Lord of Stone, so named due to the fact that his city state was known as the Fortress City whose great stone walls had never succumbed to an invasion. The Lord of Stone was many things but one thing he was not was a pleasant host. Why then would he seek to entertain the thought of a meal with an indentured servant?

Baedyn took a step back once his shackles were in place and the door's slot slid closed. The Wolf remained where he stood as he heard the portal unlock and a moment later it opened, revealing Vyodir standing there in an early morning robe and a simple pair of sandals. The Coyote was eying him at the same time. "I trust the hobbling bar is unnecessary? You do not plan on trying to run from me, do you, boy?"

His response was simple and to the point. "I haven't tried that in years, Vyodir-- you know that."

The Coyote had been charged with watching Baedyn ever since the Wolf had first been claimed by the Lord of Stone in compensation for his crime or, rather, Talvin's crime. The wrongdoing had placed Baedyn into indentured servitude to the Lord for eighteen years; Baedyn had never bothered telling the owner of his contract that fate had already foretold that he wouldn't be serving all of it. Be that as it may, the Wolf had spent close to seventeen years acting as the Lord of Stone's fortune teller, fate speaker, and soothsayer.

While many Tenevrian Lords spent hefty sums of funds to maintain a Sorran as a member of their council the Ram who ruled Izlegaol had one for the cost of room and board-- neither of which in Baedyn's case were what was usually afforded to one with his talent. He followed after his warden even as the thoughts went through his mind. The path to the Lord of Stone's meeting room was the same as always: a left out of his cell led him down the spiraling staircase, another left at the bottom brought him down the hall where he would make a right-- and yet they made a left instead. The Wolf's ears perked. "We aren't going to meet the Lord in his study?"

Vyodir struck Baedyn's calf with his tail as punishment for his question; it used to hurt a lot more back when the Coyote had some strength in it. "Were you not listening, boy? You are dining with the Lord of Stone over breakfast."

Baedyn had indeed been listening but he'd long since become used to meeting with the Lord of Stone in his study as the Ram ate and the Wolf simply spoke. When they made another left the lupine servant made another observation. "The dining room is to the right, Vyodir. If I am to join the--"

The Wolf received another smack of the Coyote's tail. "You are not joining his Lordship like that, boy... you will wash first."

Vyodir's title for Baedyn had been one he'd used on the Wolf since day one; 'boy' substituted for an actual name for as long as Baedyn could remember. At first, back when the Wolf was a teenager it was appropriate and accurate but, since the lupine servant was in what was likely his mid-thirties, Baedyn felt that it was accurate only because the old Coyote was nearing his seventieth year. Regardless he didn't consider the argument worth wasting his energy, especially since Vyodir held the ability to make his life worse; with but a word he could keep food from finding its way to Baedyn or have the replacement of his chamber pot delayed for several days-- the record was almost two weeks.

In the end, the Wolf only offered up a question in response. "Wash? Are you bringing me to the canal then, or does the Lord of Stone wish me to--"

The words slowly trailed off in his muzzle as he was led into a room with arches supporting a vaulted ceiling. The floor was tiled in an intricately composed mosaic depicting the Lord of Stone's family crest with a slight downward grade which sloped toward the center of the room where a large brass drain cover revealed the purpose of the chamber. Vyodir stepped to the side and held out a paw. "His Grace has seen fit to provide you a shower, a trim, and a proper dress before you dine."

Baedyn had never known the Lord of Stone to have any inclination to use any more in the way of resources than was necessary, especially when it came to the care and comfort of an indentured servant. The Wolf was stuck between fearing he was walking into a trap and reveling in the experience of enjoying the feel of warm water on his body for the first time in many seasons. In the end he realized that the joy brought on by a hot Tenvierian shower would be worth the risk and Baedyn obediently presented his shackled paws to the Coyote.

Vyodir took hold of the chain that linked his wrists and used the key he held to undo the bindings. The Wolf glanced into the room once again before looking back to his warden. "Do I have a whole cauldron?"

The piping systems used by the showers connected a spigot to heated cauldrons and allowed a bather to draw water from them by merely turning a knob. When one cauldron emptied a floating ballast in the works would open another tube and so on and so forth until all cauldrons were emptied or until the system was stopped by a locked ballast, which would put an end to the shower. The response he received from the Coyote stunned him beyond words. "His Grace has had twelve cauldrons filled. Use however much you need to complete your cleaning."

Baedyn remained unmoving for long enough that it apparently agitated Vyodir who struck him again with his tail and motioned him in with a pointed gesture. "There is herbal lye, a collection of washing cloths, and shears for claws and fur. Do a fine job of it-- you are to be presentable."

If the realization that the entire twelve-cauldron bathing chamber was for him and him alone had been a surprise then learning a full regimen of personal goods were at his disposal was nigh unbelievable but, as the Wolf gazed into the chamber he saw that the large stone central dais had exactly what was promised laid out before him, calling for Baedyn to pamper himself for the first time in ages. The Wolf took a step into the room, pausing just long enough to look back at the Coyote. "This... all of this-- it is all for me?"

Vyodir scowled. "It is for the Lord of Stone. He has asked that you be made presentable before breakfast and that is my task as well as yours. Now, hand me your rags and do as he has bade you. I shall return in due course with suitable garb."

Baedyn obediently doffed his clothes, pulling the ragged burlap vest up and over his head then depositing it into the Coyote's grasp. Without any regard for modesty or pride the Wolf then loosened the strings on his hemp britches and let them fall to the floor. He knelt down and gathered them then turned to add them to Vyodir's collection. Heart racing, Baedyn turned back to the room, gazing into it at the wondrous luxury that awaited him beyond the doors.

The opulence was a siren's call and there was surely a price to pay but despite all of his senses crying danger the only thing the Wolf could focus on was the thought that he would finally be able to chase the cold from his bones. Without another word Baedyn surrendered his inclination to seek out the threads of fate and closed his inner eye instead, freely giving himself over to the here-and-now. The double doors leading into the bathing room closed behind him, separating the outside world from the Wolf's blessed taste of paradise.

* * * * *

With each cauldron lasting two and a half minutes there would have been enough hot water for Baedyn to spend a half hour in the shower but he hadn't wished to test the Lord of Stone's generosity. After almost four cauldrons worth of water the Wolf was already well past clean and had moved into the realm of simply pampering himself. His fur had been washed through and the last vestiges of his cold prison tower's chill had been banished by the sublime stream of steaming water. After that he went to where two towels of beautiful linen and thick cloth awaited him and he enjoyed the bliss of drying off with something other than just the air.

Knowing that it had been a finer cleaning than he'd received during his entire stay, Baedyn moved on to the next step in his grooming and that involved the three fine brushes waiting for him on the center dais. Although Baedyn grew up in one of the lowest castes in Tenvier he had been an indentured servant to the Lord of Stone long enough to know about personal grooming as undertaken by nobility; it was, however, his first time using three brushes instead of a makeshift comb.

The wire bristle brush was first and it took the Wolf nearly twenty minutes to work the tortuously stiff, needle-like projections through the countless tangles and mats of his fur. Once he got the grunt work out of the way, Baedyn brought the next two brushes with him to a full body mirror situated against the wall. As he stepped into view the Wolf paused; it was the first good look he had of himself in years, and what he saw astounded and reviled him.

His time in captivity had not done him well. Baedyn had once been proud of his almost regal-looking neck ruff but years of a poor servant's diet and lack of reasonable clothing meant that much of it had fallen out or become so entangled and matted that it had to be cut short during his monthly grooming at the hands of the Lord's rather aggressive servant administrator. The Wolf's paws trembled as his fingers explored the patchy, sparse, uneven fur around his neck and shoulders. His eyes started to water as his paws trailed lower to his chest and abdomen where his ribs poked out prominently.

Neither Baedyn nor his brother had ever been particularly hefty Wolves but the reflection that stared out at him from the mirror revealed to him just how badly his body had fared over the decade and a half he'd been fed scarcely more than broth, tubers, and bread. The lupine servant's fur had thinned out and in some areas his flesh beneath could be seen. When he was younger Baedyn had always been proud of his physique; a life of physical labor and hunting for his meals in the woodlands had given him a wiry strength with defined muscle, but the life of a captive had all but destroyed that, leaving his body stunted so badly that he could have passed for a Wolf twice is age.

The incarceration for his brother's crime had not been easy on him emotionally and Baedyn was starting to see that his body had fared no better. Scabs and sores dotted what flesh was visible through his thinning pelt. In time they would heal, he knew, but it did nothing to ease the pain of taking stock of his appearance for the first time in years. Baedyn was supposed to be made presentable for the Lord of Stone but the Wolf couldn't help but think that he was beyond any hope of that. He cried freely as he finished brushing the rest of his fur.

The next step in a Tenvierian nobleman's pampering included a collection of infusions and oils that were popular in court as an accompaniment to one's own personal musk. Still shaking Baedyn used the time he spent inspecting the selection to recompose himself. He went from phial to phial sniffing delicately at the perfumery and tried to imagine how a courtly Wolf would make the best impression. He let himself become frustrated by the seeming lunacy to it all, finding it far better to be angry than sorrowful. In the end, Baedyn grew tired of trying to guess and held his left paw up to the tray of three dozen scents and closed his eyes.

The Wolf stared into the darkness at the threads trailing off from each phial separately, waving his runed paw above the tray with a will. Having to relearn the weave of fate after having switched Fildoma and powers with Talvin, Baedyn felt as though he'd been handicapped when he lost his birth-given abilities and saddled with the much more limited version he was forced to accept. It had taken many years of trial and error learning how to read the threads without being able to affect them. The entire procedure was as much trial and error; he got it wrong as often as right.

Choosing to elect a much more general read of the path his choice would take him, Baedyn settled on seeking out a scent that would be passable; it was far easier seeking an infused oil that would not be a bad choice rather than find one that was a good one. The Wolf still found it difficult to get answers to his questions of fate but he was able to identify two distinct phials and he opened his eyes, reading the labels of 'Cedar' and 'Yarrow'. Baedyn popped the top on the Cedar oil and pressed the open end to his first finger's pad. He gave the phial a shake and then ran the damp finger through the left side of his neck fur; he repeated the procedure with the Yarrow as well, on his right.

The Wolf paused just long enough to work the air with his nose; his own body odor was faint due to the recent bathing but he could definitely make out the rich, earthy scent of a freshly cut tree coupled with a pleasant, spicy smell that reminded him of the bakery next to where he and Talvin had grown up before they'd lost their parents. Baedyn quickly pushed the memory out of his mind; he was supposed to be finding his center, not further off-balance himself. Taking a deep breath, the Wolf focused instead on the final portion of his beauty regimen: the shears.

Not trusting himself to handle the trimming of his fur effectively, Baedyn chose to focus on the claw clippers and filing board instead. The Wolf took a seat in the padded chair positioned beside the implements he would need. The experience was unique after years of sleeping on a wooden bed or sitting on the stone floor and the lupine servant spent several moments just getting used to the comforting give beneath his rump. After that he looked at the tools prepared for him and settled on starting with a pair of silver clippers.

Going one toe at a time, Baedyn carefully trimmed the claws of his feet. He cut them back dramatically, aiming for the same length as the middle claw on his right foot, which had broken some days back when it got caught between two stone tiles in the hallway. He had been on his way back to his tower cell after a fate consultation with the Lord of Stone. Once he was done with his feet the Wolf looked to his paws, considering what to do with his claws there. He paused when he felt the pins and needles of a familiar sensation send a shiver up his spine. He knew the tingle of fate that accompanied an important decision immediately.

Setting down the clippers, Baedyn reached for the file instead. Rather than cutting the claws on his fingers short like he had done with his feet the Wolf chose instead to simply file them down enough to remove the ragged, uneven tips. Long claws were not supposed to be popular in court but, Baedyn rationalized that he was neither a courtier nor a noble. He made ready to return the rough nail file to its place on the tray but he paused, closing his eyes one more time to try and see what he could learn from the tangled threads; he was on the verge of a twist of fate.

It was early morning even after his bathing and brushing and the Wolf had already used his Sorran sight liberally; it was not without cost and he could already feel the fatigue that it brought to him. He was in a strange position in the middle of an unanticipated event that he could not have predicted; he had to find answers. What he saw was indistinct and hazy at best-- there were too many threads and his ability to sort through them was hampered by his lack of ability to affect them. One thing was for certain however, and it was that Baedyn was not done with his regimen. Opening his eyes and attempting to ignore the headache that was starting to develop from overuse of his gift, the Wolf picked up the file again and began to sharpen his claws.

* * * * *

The entirety of Baedyn's stay in the bathing room was just over two hours. In truth, he didn't know whether or not the passage of time was of any concern, especially since he had been taken from his cell before dawn, which meant that breakfast had yet to even be started in the kitchen, let alone at the Lord's table. The Wolf stepped from the showering area onto the plush throw rug positioned outside the doors in the hall; the hall had hot copper wires radiating heat every twenty-or-so strides so it was not cold, except in comparison to the sauna-like warmth of the bathing chamber.

Vyodir was seated in a simple wooden chair just off to the side of the door and regarded Baedyn; the Wolf stood on the rug in nothing but his fur. The Coyote issued a simple command. "Turn."

The lupine servant did as directed, rotating to his right a full circle until he came back to the facing in which he started, and then turned to regard his warden. He spoke as simply as possible, managing to add just a touch of scorn. "I am clean and presentable, as the Lord of Stone demanded... assuming he would have me join him at the breakfast table with my 'god-given assets' on display."

The term was a polite Tenvierian turn-of-phrase for what the crude lower caste called the 'P&P', which was an abbreviation of 'penis and pouch' in reference to his manhood and testicles. Baedyn had made the mistake of calling attention to his nudity early on in his service using the lower caste slang and had been struck with a reed cane for it three times on the back of his thighs; he hadn't made that same mistake since.

The old overseer chuckled, saying nothing at first to the comment as he sifted through a collection of cloth next to him on a spare chair. "No, boy-- you are to attend breakfast fully clothed. Give me your paws."

Baedyn sighed, stepping toward the Coyote and presenting his wrists together for the pending shackle. The time he had spent brushing his arm fur seemed all for not as he considered having it all messed up again by the metal bindings but the thoughts froze in his mind when Vyodir set on them a collection of clothes that appeared to be a combination of cotton and linen along with some leather accessories. They were not at all what the Wolf expected. "There must be some mistake, Vyo--"

He received a lashing against his bare calf by the Coyote's tail. "No mistake, boy. You are to be presentable when you join the Lord of Stone for breakfast. Now dress yourself-- you are due to have your garb sized properly."

The Wolf stared at the garments, taking great care in slowly separating the different components. His sense of urgency was apparently not sufficient enough for his warden, who rewarded him with another strike from the bony appendage. "Imminently."

Stalling no longer, Baedyn quickly donned his linen and cloth tunic followed by a finely stitched vest; the buttons that closed it loosely around his chest looked as though they might have been crafted out of silver. Silk undergarments were the next thing to go on and the Wolf almost felt dirty at how gently and delicately they clung to his unmentionables. From there, he was forced to fit his legs into silk stockings of a sort; he slid his feet into them and pulled the waist band up to his navel with the rest stretching all the way down to his ankles; it was the first time he'd ever worn anything of the sort.

He finished with snug-fitting trousers; they were the style preferred by Tenvierian nobility and were universally lampooned as unmanly and foppish by the lower castes. Baedyn found them uncomfortable, but he accepted it as just another requirement of him to do as his employer demanded; fortunately the stockings beneath them kept his fur from getting bunched up or snagged. Once he had the majority of his clothing on he looked back to Vyodir, who had kept hold of the jerkin, glove, and footwear.

The Coyote placed the boots on the floor first. "These belonged to a Wolf close to your size... they will need to be readjusted but the leather worker requested that you wear them for a time so he could see where there were inconsistencies with the fit."

Baedyn did as was demanded of him, sliding his feet into the footwear. He had gone without shoes, boots, or sandals of any kind for over ten years; after his last escape attempt the Lord of Stone had seen to it that he would have none, so suddenly receiving such a fine pair of leather boots was not just unexpected, it was unimaginable. After taking two steps in them however, the Wolf felt them begin to chafe; it was actually worse than going barefoot. Wincing, he turned back to his warden. "And the gloves?"

Vyodir held up the remaining leather, revealing that it was not a pair of gloves, rather, it was singular. "Just one."

The lupine servant nodded without reaction; he should have known that he would only receive a glove for his right paw; Sorrani in Tenvier were considered incredible assets to have in one's employ and no Lord would want a Sorra to cover up their Fildoma. He took the glove and quickly slid it onto his right paw, clenching and relaxing his grip several times as he got used to wearing the leather over his paw pads. The Coyote demanded bluntly of him "Well?"

Despite the fact that it was not made for him, the glove fit him remarkably well. He said as much to his warden. "The glove fits fine. If we are to see the leather worker then the boots could--"

Vyodir snorted. "That will be up to the artisan. This way."

No sooner were the words out of his muzzle than the Coyote had turned and headed off directly down the hall. Surprised that he was not put back in shackles, Baedyn thought better of drawing attention to his good fortune and chose instead to follow silently. They traveled two hallways and down a flight of stairs before the Wolf even thought about a fact that had struck him as surprising. "When did the Lord of Stone engage a leather worker? I didn't know that he had one in his employ."

Not even pausing in his passage down the hall, Vydor spoke over his shoulder. "His Grace does not. A traveling leather worker from Avredell seeks his favor and is offering him a set of leather refitting free of charge in an attempt to earn a contract."

Baedyn shook his head with a sigh but said nothing; he had known the Lord of Stone for many years; the Boar was full of avarice; he would happily accept services for free or reduced cost but rarely if ever did a tradesman astound him with enough skill to get Loris Pyazo to part with his coin. The Wolf felt almost sorry for the foolish, ignorant tradesman for choosing to cater to the most tightfisted, miserly Lord out of the whole twelve cities of Tenvier. None of these thoughts made it to his muzzle; instead the Wolf said only "Well then, hopefully his Grace will be pleased by what he sees."

Vyodir didn't respond to Baedyn's remark, instead continuing on silently down one more hallway to a work room that the Wolf had only seen on the occasion that his manacles, shackles, chains, or hobbling bar needed repair. The Coyote ushered him in but took hold of his wrist before he could go through the door. "You can tell him that he has ten minutes."

His warden, rather than following him in, simply took a seat on a stool situated right outside the door and leaned back against the wall; if Baedyn didn't know better he'd expect Vyodir to fall asleep like that. Letting out another sigh, the Wolf strode into the room, easing the door closed behind himself. There was ample light in the workspace provided by a combination of a large window on the wall shared with the outside and a chandelier lit with Hum-Light.

The Wolf knew only a little about how some of the tech devices in Tenvier worked, Hum Light included-- mostly just enough to operate them, but they had always interested him ever since he could remember. He and his brother had often spoken to one another how they would one day become professional mechanists and learn all of the secrets of the devices but, looking back on all of the follies of their childhood, Baedyn realized that those dreams were just another one of them.

He was pulled from his reverie by the movement of a large oval of spines that had been situated innocently in the corner. It took the Wolf a moment to realize that what he saw was the movement of a man, specifically when the room's other occupant turned to face him and Baedyn understood that he was looking at the leather worker, an older Porcupine with spectacles and a craftsman's apron. Quickly recovering from his surprise, the Wolf decided that the least he could do was to be respectful and he introduced himself, providing the name he'd used for almost half his life. "Good morow, sir. I am Talvin, indentured servant of the household of the Lord of--"

The Porcupine didn't even bother listening, and instead spoke over him in a quiet tone. "Hello, Baedyn. Now, shut up and listen."

Baedyn wasn't sure he'd heard the leather worker correctly and fumbled several times before he could figure out how to correct the man, but the knowing glare from the leather worker silenced him. Only once the Porcupine had his full attention did he move over with one of his quills in his left paw, right held out palm up as he ordered "Boots."

The Wolf obediently doffed his boots and handed them to the leather worker, who went back to the work bench located against the wall beneath the window. The man spoke quietly as he worked. "You want to know how I know who you are rather than who you claim to be..."

"Everyone here--"

The leather worker interrupted him again. "Just listen-- do not speak."

In an amazingly brief amount of time the man returned his boots to him and held out his paw again; without even having to be guided, Baedyn took off his glove and handed it to the Porcupine. "It fits well enough, I don't think it--"

A glare from the leather worker silenced the Wolf and he remained passive as the Porcupine returned to the work bench. What happened next truly caught Baedyn's attention. Reaching into the pocket of his work apron the visitor pulled out a quill that glimmered faintly with a light all its own; the lupine servant didn't even have to look at it with his mind's eye to see the glimmer of fate magic at work. The words came out of his muzzle as a whisper "You know my brother..."

The Porcupine returned to him, holding the glove out. Baedyn took it in his paws and stared down at the 'x' drawn neatly into the palm. Looking back up at the Porcupine he saw that the leather worker was already packing up. When their gazes met, the man simply nodded and walked past him. "My favor's paid. Good luck - he'll be here soon."

Baedyn donned the glove and he watched the mark on the palm glow faintly then fade away into non-existence. The craftsman left without another word; none was needed.