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Salvia

An ideal Dicator would be from the military or the admiralty. When civic rule fails, the military must step in to provide a different perspective.

The day began like any other at the camp. The air was crisp and smoky, even inside the cloth walls of my tent. Distant orders and curses were being barked outside along with the hammering of steel on steel.

But it was not just any other day. The night before I had captured a member of the wolven royal family and dealt them a humiliating loss. It was a petty raid for a petty royal, certainly, but I intended to keep raiding until the wolves considered Carpathia too expensive to hold onto; thus it was one victory among hundreds more to come.

The only thing that could make this moment sweeter was to have someone wrapped around my arms in my sleeping bag. Unfortunately, I was alone, though I did consider having the guards escort that Kutlar in here and have him lie with me, but it seemed a little cruel, especially with what I was going to put him through today.

For now, it was time for breakfast. An aide wearing a leather apron across a black jerkin that matched his fur silently padded in with a wooden platter, placing it atop my writing desk before bowing and exiting.

My nose twitched at the scent of dried beef, eggs fried in butter, and something starchy that lacked any defining smell, almost as if it was not real food. I got out of my bag, not bothering to dress as I sat at my desk. My nose did not lie: I was greeted by salt pork, a fresh egg with a runny yolk, and a thick slice of slavemeal bread, bread made from unhusked livestock grain usually served to human slaves as a cheap source of food. Unfortunately, slavemeal was a lot easier to steal in large quantities than livestock, so in order to fill fox soldier's stomachs it becomes necessary to introduce it to our diet when on campaign.

I mixed up the yolk with the bread, making it a bit more appetizing as it turned into clumpy, salty mush instead of a tasteless slice of wood; it was better than what the grunts would get, which was a watery gravy made from the smoked meat. Jabbing a forkful into my mouth, I found it still lacking in flavor and broke out my stash of black pepper, sprinkling it atop the meal.

There were some generals who ate and slept among their soldiers, then there were the ones who secluded themselves entirely. Admiral Philippe was one of the former and Marshal Beaumont was one of the latter. If you had to choose one or the other, Philippe's strategy would be best, however, I found that if you overdo it, suddenly the soldiers will forget that you're their superior and begin treating your orders with less severity.

The flap of the tent fluttered and I turned to see Vito standing in the awning, dressed in his armor and lowering his gaze upon seeing me.

"Come in, Vito," I waved him in.

"General, I can come back..."

"No, no. Come in, don't be shy," I motioned down to my naked waist with my muzzle. "I don't have anything you haven't seen before, do I?"

Vito cleared his throat and stepped in, pounding his fist against his chest-plate in salute. I would have thrown out anyone but Vito, I trusted him that much and wanted to show him that. "Sir, you asked me to report when the scouts have returned."

I swallowed a rough mound of slavemeal, grumbling, "Go on."

"Salvia's been spotted in a camp an hour away by horse with a stock of prisoners."

"How did I know?" I asked rhetorically with a laugh. "That vulture somehow knows where and when every battle happens, just in time for her to assist the injured, deserters, and stragglers be returned to their company or family."

"Or failing that, the mines or galleys," Vito muttered gruffly.

"Such is war," I said. "Has she agreed to meet?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good. Have my horse and the prisoner prepared. If he whines, have him beaten but do not leave a mark, not even a bruise."

"At once, sir."

"And no water or food."

Vito left the room with a salute, leaving me to my breakfast. I continued chewing on my food, washing it down with gulps of watery small-ale. With no one watching, I lapped up the scraps on the plate with my tongue, sparing two slices of salt pork.

I dressed myself in a red gambeson, strapping my chestplate atop it. I slid steel gauntlets onto my paws and stepped into matching boots. Tying my sword belt to my hip, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, the one obvious piece of luxury in my tent, admiring myself. I licked my fingers and ran my claws through the top of my head, untangling the occasional matted clumps of fur and smoothing them out. As one last piece of practical vanity, I took out a glass jar and spritzed it against my armpit, filling the room with the sharp scent of concentrated lavender to hide my scent from Salvia, standard practice when engaging in commerce.

Lastly, I grabbed a leather pouch and a water-skin, strapping them to my side. I hid the remaining pieces of meat in the pouch.

My ears pricked at the sound of hoof-beats stopping at my tent. I emerged from the tent with a swagger to find my black stallion waiting patiently. Peering down to my left, I saw Galip kneeling in the dirt with his arms bound behind his back. Vito and a red-furred guard were standing behind him, the guard holding the length of rope attached to the Kutlar's bindings.

I rubbed my paw atop Galip's head, running it down his back across his light gray pelt. He winced in pain as I did this, whining lowly.

"Was he beaten?" I asked, casting my gaze accusingly between Vito and the guard.

"Aye, sir, he was," Vito responded, motioning towards the guard, "the whelp complained when we took him out of the hole. This soldier here did the job."

"This is not how we treat an honored prisoner!" I said, smirking knowingly at Vito and the guard.

I knelt down to face my prisoner. Putting my palm under his chin, to which he shivered in response, I lifted his muzzle to face me. His golden eyes met mine for a moment before he looked away submissively. His black nose was as dry as a desert.

The water-skin sloshed as I took it from my side and shook it. His eyes went to it immediately.

"I have water, do you want some?"

Galip's eyes looked at me sadly. His tongue darted out, licking at his dry lips.

"Yes, please, Alpha," he said weakly.

"Good pup," I said.

He opened his maw as I pointed the skin at him, squirting a stream of water that he gulped down eagerly. After he had his fill, I offered him a chunk of salt pork that he gobbled down.

Unprompted, he spoke once again, "Thank you, Alpha."

It was almost disturbing seeing him like this. He wasn't a brave wolven warrior last night either, but he had some degree of assertiveness. Now, he was as meek as a puppy. He may have been born to royalty, but he had the nature of a slave.

"Alpha Marco," I said with a smug grin as I lifted myself up, "has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Vito and the guard nodded in agreement.

"Who knows? Perhaps it will happen one day?" I laughed, putting my foot into the stirrup and raising myself into the saddle. "If that human, Romulus, can sit atop the Alphate's throne, why not a fox?"

One step at a time, Marco.

We heard the sounds of Salvia's camp before we saw it. Salvia was a peculiar vixen who liked to draw attention to herself, so we knew we were getting close when we heard a soft, upbeat woodwind melody whispering through the trees. Salvia wasn't doing anything illegal, but the nature of her business tended to make soldiers a little upset when they found their comrades among her merchandise. Still, Salvia kept herself protected with rough African mercenaries who were more than capable of holding their own against a company of soldiers and more than willing to execute the hostages if their comrades tried to rescue them without the coin. I hadn't met her personally yet, but I knew she was no fool. Any vixen who successfully took over her deceased husband's dangerous business and made it thrive had to be smart and tough. I looked forward to meeting her.

Soon, we rounded a corner in the road and found them. A small camp with a couple of brightly colored pavilions with lines of chained prisoners kneeling under them, mostly wolves and the occasional fox. A large dome tent was set up on the far side, where Salvia would no doubt be and where prospective buyers could examine their purchase in private.

Guarding the entrance of the camp were two massive lions in leather lamellar armor and wielding hand axes and shields. The guards didn't stop us from entering. I had taken a small detachment of foxes, about ten, with me. It was easier to keep a wolven royal and a fox general hidden when you kept a low profile and Salvia was likely to get spooked if we showed up with a full company.

A golden-furred jackal greeted us and I handed the reins of my horse to him. He looked at the wolf prisoner and spoke, "Kutlar?"

"That's him."

"Tent," he pointed towards the large tent on the far side of the camp. His Foxen was limited and spiced with an awkward guttural accent, "Salvia wait."

I took the rope tied to Galip's wrists and ordered him forward, which he obeyed without hesitation, stepping slowly into the camp. One of my soldiers took the opportunity to wrap his horse's caparison around the naked wolf's chest, showing off the Pesht-Kutlar emblem for all to see.

We passed the source of the happy melody that beckoned us into the camp, a trio of naked wolves with collars around their necks, blowing at flutes and pipes. Despite the joyous tune they were blowing, they looked miserable.

Walking by one of the pavilions showcasing the wares, a fox caught my eye. Orange fur with a thin black stripe running down his muzzle. I pointed my nose in his direction, taking a sniff of the air and smelling hints of tree bark. This was one of my soldiers. An archer we lost less than a week ago. A poor fox from Vulpezzia's slums who fought to support his siblings, there was not a chance he or his family could afford the ransom.

But that would have to wait. Two lions, almost identical to the previous pair, waved us into the tent. Galip hesitated, so I gave him a push inside.

I stepped inside, catching Galip by the arm just before he landed nose-first on the plush, woolen carpet, helping him gently land on his knees. Salvia was waiting for us, lounging on a wooden chair with a silk, blue shift wrapped around her. Her narrow eyes screamed unimpressed as a naked wolf daintily placed a strawberry in her thin mouth, which she swallowed eagerly.

"Marco, my favorite client!" she exclaimed, though her face still lacked any eagerness and a thin, red scar running down the side of her muzzle made her look even more severe. "It's good to finally meet you face to face."

"And you as well!" she stood up as I approached and took her hands. We politely kissed each other's cheeks with our noses in greeting, my nostrils taking in the sweet, spicy scent of cinnamon. Her perfume gave me a bit of a headache, but without a doubt my lavender was doing the same to her. Her pale orange fur was as soft as silk, a rarity for someone who traveled as much as she did.

"Well, well, it would seem that the Hero of the Republic has good manners as well!" she winked playfully before planting herself back in the chair, crossing her legs.

"I have not been declared..."

"Ah, but people have been crying out for you to be given that title. In the taverns and in the markets from here to Vulpezzia there are foxes extolling your virtues as a citizen without peer," she paused to whisper an order to the wolf, who began firmly rubbing at her shoulders. "Funny, it's almost like someone is paying them to say such things..."

"People like a victorious general."

She rubbed a finger under her cream chin, "Well, whatever the case, they're saying the same thing about Admiral Philippe..."

Anger flashed through my brain. That upstart pirate was plotting something and I didn't like it.

"And every fox who has been declared Hero of the Republic, why, they all end up getting the Senate and the Doge to appoint them as dictator. Fancy that..."

"Oh, Salvia, you seem to be insinuating something about my ambitions..."

"Not at all, dear Marco. I'm merely being polite and telling you a few tales that I've heard in my travels," she yawned, pushing the wolf's arms away and standing up. Crossing her arms, she approached poor Galip, sniffing with contempt. "This is the Kutlar?"

"Yes, madame," I yanked the bindings on Galip's arms, pulling him to his feet. The caparison fall to the floor like a loose towel, exposing the noble wolf entirely for all to see. I wrapped my paw around the bottom of his chin, pointing his muzzle towards Salvia, "this is Galip Pesht-Kutlar, fifth son of Emre Pesht Kutlar."

"Fifth son, yes, but also the first illegitimate son," she motioned toward a stack of papers lying on a desk, "believe me, dear Marco, I have familiarized myself with important families in case one of them finds themselves in need of my assistance."

I stepped in front of my prisoner, scowling at him with a low growl. The wolf looked away nervously.

"I'm sorry, Alpha, I..."

Of course, I never had any intention of selling him, but I still felt a tinge of rage at him hiding this information. It meant I dragged him all this way for nothing, all for an illegitimate child of a cadet branch of royalty. He was good for nothing but as a piece of propaganda, a Kutlar who called a fox his Alpha. Being the only person here without perfume on, I smelled his fear and shame like it was rotten meat and that irritated me even more. I was about to strike Galip across the face when Salvia interrupted.

"There is an opportunity here, Marco. A big one."

I cast her a suspicious glare.

"If he were a legitimate child of the Pesht-Kutlars I would be obligated to go to them first and offer them a ransom. They'd pay the standard amount and I'd return him, no hard feelings. But with a bastard son of a cadet branch, well, our options open up..."

"You'd sell a royal wolf to the mines?"

"No, no..."

"Canis! You don't mean to sell him to a brothel, do you?"

Salvia lowering her muzzle to Galip's nether regions, smirked, and turned her attention back to me with a wry smile, "He's a handsome one, isn't he? You haven't...?"

"No. But feel free to tell anyone that I have."

"Oh, ho, ho, ho!" she laughed uncontrollably but still kept her refined dignity. "How scandalous! I think I shall do just that."

"Now, what did you have in mind?"

She brushed a paw along the side of Galip's muzzle, prompting him to whine. "In this business, we receive a lot of special requests from clients looking for very specific merchandise and they're willing to pay far beyond the regular rate. I had one Iberian fox merchant who wanted a human girl with one green and one blue eye, for example. Galip however, being related to the Kutlars, well, we have choices.

One of them is the Royal Prince Levanti to the Leopard Shahdom, a very unusual fellow, if I do say so myself. He's been collecting people of interest to him and displaying them in his menagerie, and wants a male wolven royal for his collection. He already has a tiger sailor, a bear eunuch, a dog monk, and a hyena hunter; and he puts them on display in rooms decorated based on their backgrounds." Salvia paused, clearing her throat before continuing. "He's also interested in a fox soldier, if you're inclined for a lifestyle change..."

"I'll pass. And the other?"

"A wealthy lion chieftain wants a Kutlar as his concubine, male or female. He wants to show off, let the world know that he's more powerful than the Alphate and is willing to pay through the nose to do so."

"How about that, Galip?" I mockingly said in Wolven, nudging my prisoner in the ribs. "You want to go to Africa?"

"Please..." he whispered pathetically, "A-Alpha..."

"It's a long journey to either one of them," Salvia explained, "but it would be well worth the trip and I'd be more than happy to negotiate a generous lump sum for you in exchange for the prisoner."

I rubbed my chin, contemplating. If what she said was true, we did stand to make a lot of coin off this deal and chances are, unless his father was gracious towards his bastards, which from all profiles we had of the wolf, he was not; few would inquire about him. Certainly, if there were a peace deal made, the Doge and the Senate would accept any excuse I gave for his disappearance.

We took him to a ransom broker by the name of Salvia, but he escaped and I never saw him again. I apologize for my mistake.

And this was assuming I didn't get my well-earned promotion before that point...

Still, if I were to give him up, I would lose something that I could not replace. The chances of me running into another Kutlar like this was improbable. Right now I had in my possession a symbol of foxen dominance over wolves and when I paid the next batch of troubadours to sing about my conquests, I'd have them include a ribald tale about what I was doing with him.

No, I needed Galip, but I also needed Salvia still.

"I'm sorry Salvia. I know this is impolite, but I've had a change of heart," I ran a paw through the course, gray fur on Galip's back and finished my sentence in Wolven so that he would understand, "I'm going to keep him."

Galip gasped with relief, muttering thanks under his breath. He was already developing dependence on me, it was almost sad.

"Marco, I must advise you against this course of action," Salvia gritted her fangs, speaking in Foxen, "a handsome one like him, he'll only satisfy you in the short-term, but gold..."

"Hah! Would you say the same thing to who you were planning on selling him to?"

"Of course not!" she said, her tail wagging mischievously. "That's just good business! And it's good business for me to inform you of what a mistake you're making..."

"I intend to still do business with you, madame Salvia," I handed her a leather pouch full of coin, which she immediately took one out and bit it, testing it for purity, "first of all, I'd like to pay you to spread the word of my brave capture of the Kutlar and his submissive nature."

"I'll tell them that he smells like a randy fox now."

"Secondly, I saw a fox outside in your stock. He's one of my foxes who went missing this week. I'd like to pay his ransom."

"Yes, I know the one. I was going to sell him to the wolves to work in the iron mines," Salvia shouted something in a strange language and one of the lion guards stepped in. She tend gave him an order that I could not understand and the lion left the tent.

He returned a few minutes later, dragging the fox in behind him. He was in bad shape, having two long gashes across his chest that were just healing after, no doubt left behind by a cane or a whip. My eyes met his for a second and he recognized me, before he remembered who held his leash at the moment and lowered his gaze.

I knelt beside him, placing my paw on his shoulder. He was quivering lightly and rancid fear was wafting from him.

"Who did this?" I whispered to him, pointing to his injuries.

He said nothing, the smell of fear growing stronger. He briefly flashed a glance at the lion before looking down once again.

"Thirdly," I said, standing up and fishing out another pouch, which I tossed at Salvia. "this is compensation for what I'm about to do."

Before the lion could even sense what I was about to do, I swung my fist at him, connecting my gauntlet with the front of his face and sending him stumbling to the ground, clutching at his now-bleeding nose.

The message was clear to my soldier and he looked on with awe. He would tell all his buddies and they'd know that I was looking out for them. He was not much use as a soldier in his condition, so he could at least do this one last thing for me.

The lion glared at me, massive fangs baring in a snarl. I put my hand on the hilt of my sword and growled at Salvia, "Order him to stand down."

She hissed something at the lion and his posture weakened, but his ugly gaze never left my direction. Eventually, he stepped out with one last growl.

"Never do that again," Salvia said slowly in Wolven, "or I'll have you flayed."

"Sorry, but I had to watch out for my soldier," I replied in the same language.

"And that's why you're alive right now," Salvia flopped into her chair, ear flicking in irritation, "and that's why you're going to pay extra for the information I have."

"Information? What kind?"

"You'll like it, but I'm not going to give any hints until I get more gold."

"If you're not going to tell me what it is then I'm..."

"Then don't buy it. It could help you end this war early if you buy it, and if you don't, well, then business shall remain booming for me."

I tossed her another bundle of coin. One can never have too many when dealing with fox merchants.

"Adequate," she muttered, weighing the bag on a scale.

"Lets hear it."

"Pirates have begun operating in the Danubian Sea. There's rumors that Admiral Philippe has paid them..."

It was a good thing that my scent was covered up by lavender, for I was fuming. It was easy to control my face and keep it cool, but a chimera could only do so much to hide our scent. I told that jumped up pirate to focus his fleet on the Danubian Sea to cut off wolven supply ships and reinforcements to Carpathia but he laughed at me, saying he'd focus on the Dalmatian Coast in to support Beaumont's army. That alone was a lie, for as much as we hated each other, neither of us wanted to play second fiddle to Beaumont, who despite being an incompetent and meek general, as Marshal he would steal the glory. No, Philippe wanted to keep his ships close by Vulpezzia so that any battle he'd engage in would be seen by the populace and reported back home quickly, and now he was stealing my plans for himself!

"...And thanks to recent raids by a certain fox, Pesht is short on supplies and food. But I'm told a fleet of supply ships have made it past the pirates and into the Danube River. What a shame though, it would seem that their escorts did not make it and Beograd didn't have any river ships to spare to defend them. Why, if someone were to intercept it..."

Salvia spoke the truth. This was good information if it was true. Almost too good to be true, but I knew how Salvia operated: she'd be following us close behind, waiting to rescue unwitting sailors escaping the ship. She still stood to profit from this and could help me out, while still charging me for it.

I liked her.

It had been a long day negotiating with Salvia and an even bigger ordeal organizing my soldiers for the march back to our camp. I, General Marco of the Fox Republic, could swiftly lead a daring nighttime raid or march one hundred miles through enemy territory without being spotted, but damned if I could easily tear tired, lonely foxes away from the slaves they paid for personal time with without a struggle.

By the time I got back, I was exhausted and retired to my tent, leaving Vito as the commanding officer. There was no point in formulating a strategy when my mind was weary. There would be time tomorrow to gather the officers and discuss what to do.

Dinner was much the same as breakfast, only I got stuck with the solder's ration that omitted the egg in favor of a watery gravy that you were to spoon over the slavemeal bread to make it more appetizing. This was disparagingly referred to as "Stool on a Stump," by the grunts.

I drained the last gulp of ale from my wooden cup and thumped it loudly on the table. On cue, I heard the trickle of liquid pour into it, refreshing the container.

"No more," I held my hand up when the cup was halfway full.

"Yes, Alpha," Galip nodded, putting the pitcher away. His arms were unbound and he was wearing nothing except for the gray pelt he was born in. Anxiety still filled the air, but there was also a strange, soothing scent mixed with it, almost like the smell of rosewater. It was an emotion I was not used to smelling on wolves and didn't know how to place it, it almost smelled like he was slightly comfortable serving me, which would have been new extremes, even for the hierarchical wolves.

Still, I didn't smell anger on him nor did he seem like he was scheming something, and it was Galip's idea: he was pretty much begging to repay me for not selling him on the ride home. Besides, having him close by would help the rumors spread. I could not wait to see the first story about me taking a Kutlar from behind like a lowly slave take root.

Perhaps I let my thoughts cloud my scent and he picked up on it, because when I finished off the ale and peered back, he was already in the sleeping back with his golden eyes peering at me silently.

The dumb pup is going to be a mess once this war is over.

I laid down next to him, wrapping my arms around his chest and hugging him close to my own, running my claws through his rough fur and along his rows of nipples. His tail wagged rapidly, slapping against my thigh which excited me.

But I was tired and so was he. I buried my nose into the fur along his neck, breathing in his scent one last time before I drifted off to sleep. The sweet, rose-like scent was growing stronger, overpowering the anxiety that reeked on him before.

Dumb pup. Dumb, dumb pup.