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Chilled Poultry

By late Spring, I had amassed an army that would be the envy of the world. All over the Grand Republic, veterans had returned with their vast knowledge and expertise in the hopes of doubling their promised pension or receive glorious death in battle. Young foxes signed up in record numbers as well, the welfare offerings provided by my esteemed government allowing them to be certain that all will be well at home come death or victory, with the possibility of returning with Alphate treasure and loot.

There was some deception with this, of course. My economic recovery plan relied heavily on loans and if this war was a disaster we would never be able to repay it. Moreover, it proved even more expensive to support than I had originally planned, requiring an absurdly large expansion of couriers and bureaucrats to ensure that the subsidies made it to even the far reaches of the Republic and that the money made it to real people. There was corruption rampant in the system and there was truly no way of telling just how bad it was.

The only region of the Republic that was not included in this plan was the Fennec Autonomous Province. "Tribune" Izil, as he was calling himself now, dictated the new Fennec Republics in the Senate and he specifically refused to allow the fennecs to receive this subsidy. As we were strapped for gold, the fennecs weren't effected by the economic consequences of Philippe's peace, and setting up a bureaucracy there would be a waking nightmare; I accepted this demand without complaint.

Though a part of me wondered whether the reason he did that was he didn't want fox bureaucrats sniffing around. It was suspicious, but in the end, Izil sent me a large batch of fennec riders from across the sea when we set forth to Carpathia once more. An ocean of foxes swept across the lands, boots shaking the earth beneath their soles.

It was loud enough for the Alphate to finally react. Laurent's spies reported reactive movement across the border. If I so much as pointed my nose in the direction of a wolven region one day, the next morning we would receive reports that the Alphate's border armies had begun to move there. They were deeply afraid and I could smell it from miles away.

The campaign was underway but it was not one I was forced into. It was carefully planned and ready to be executed.

As such, I allowed for some entertainment along the way.

I could practically hear my soldier's eyelids widen as the sprawling tent city nestled along the shores of Lake Balaton came into view. The soldiers had already been entranced by the smell of freshly cooked meat and joyous music floating through the air, and now that they had seen the brightly colored, tall tents and wagons streaming with ribbons, they were fully under its spell.

"I order you to have fun," I commanded. "Your commanding officers will give you the shift details."

This was another expense that had my war council biting their claws, except for Vito. My second-in-command was very familiar with fighting in cold climates and although I hoped to avoid it, there was a chance this could drag out into the winter and it would be necessary for the soldiers to have one warm, happy memory before that happens.

Humans often speak of legendary military commanders who invaded the lands the Alphate called home and fell victim to hubris when the dreaded winter swept upon them and brought them to ruin. On the other hand, humans don't have fur and whine when there's a small draft in the house during the summer when their masters are panting and seeking a reprieve from the heat.

Foxes were built for the winter. But of course, so were wolves, and there was a good chance many of my soldiers had never grown a true winter coat before, being from the warmer parts of the South.

None of that mattered now though. What mattered was the entertainment before us: a veritable army of vendors peddling trinkets, jugglers tossing swords into the air, cooks making stews of paprika and meat...

And one cannot forget the carnal offerings. With the brief peace in the land, Salvia had found herself with some long-term prisoners who couldn't afford a ransom and she was more than eager to supply our little pleasure town with them as long as she collected coin for each toss.

Livio wasted no time hopping off his horse and grabbing a fennec by the collar, who did her best to suppress her disgust at seeing his mange-scarred patches of bald skin. I folded my ears back, anticipating some objection from his human mate, but was surprised to see Sister leading a pathetic looking tod to her mate and the slipped into a tent after giving a procurer standing guard some coin.

Looks like the girl has become a vixen,_I smiled. _Not at all concerned with monogamy like so many of her kind.

One cannot truly trust a human but there are some that are more trustworthy than others. Sister was one of them.

Despite the festivities, I found myself in a rather serious mood, content to slowly trod along atop my horse along the fairgrounds and take in the sights, smells, and sounds. I gnawed on some honeyed beef on a stick that I bought from a stall but otherwise avoided partaking in the chaos.

Thankfully, my soldiers were more than happy to indulge their baser instincts. Not a keg of ale went untapped and not a single slave was left without a fox taking them to a tent.

The fur on my arms began to twitch. I found my right paw muscles seizing and I dropped the skewer to the grass below.

"Fuck," I hissed, slipping my left paw into my pouch and pulling out a long, metal pipe. I stuck it between my teeth and began filling it up with the precious poppy.

Next came the flint and steel but my right paw would not behave. I tried to scrape them together using just my left hand but only succeeded in dropping them onto the ground. I placed my left paw on the saddle and peered down, trying to figure out how I was going to dismount when my right paw was still twitching and not responding.

"Need a light, Dictator?"

My ear twitched at the sound of Vito's voice and I turned to see him sauntering up beside my horse, a short corncob pipe dangling from the side of his muzzle that let out little puffs of tobacco smoke.

"Yes! I dropped the starter on the ground, can you find it?"

Vito took a quick look and shook his head, "I don't see it. Here, I'll take you to the supply tent."

Without asking, Vito gently grabbed the reins of my horse, whispering gently to the beast, before leading it further down the maze of tents.

It was starting to get dark now and my skin was starting to itch badly.

"General Vito, surely you have a light on you?"

"No, Dictator," Vito said softly. "A soldier lit some tinder for me earlier."

The music was dying down but there was still seemingly an endless bunch of tents before us, none of which had lanterns burning on the inside or outside. We were alone, isolated.

"Vito, what are you doing?" I asked.

Vito paused, exhaling smoke from his nostrils.

"Trust me."

In the corner of my eye, I saw a something flash past my check. I darted my face in its direction just in time to see a long wooden shaft reaching up above my horse. I didn't notice the wide hook catching me in my chest until it knocked me off the side of my horse.

My landing was unusually soft and I bounced a little as I found myself laying atop a sheet of cloth that was stretched out by both Livio and Sister. My pipe was gone.

"What is-"

Before I could react, Vito grabbed me by my good shoulder and Livio by my weak one.

"We wanted to make this nice and quiet, okay?" Livio grinned. "No one has to find out."

"After all we've been through," I hissed. "You're going to assassinate me!?"

Livio was less than happy with my little charge in Udine that almost got him killed and Vito...well, there's always the danger of your second-in-command decided his should be the first.

"What?" Livio tilted his head. "Fuck no!"

"Then RELEASE ME!"

"No," Vito said, tightening his grip as he forced me to march. "You have a problem and we need to take care of it."

"And what might that be?"

"The devil's poppy," Livio said.

"I only take a little bit a day! Hardly enough to be a problem!"

"You've got the shakes so bad that you can't even move your right arm," Livio poked a claw between the lace of my gambeson. "Bet you can't even feel that, huh?"

"ARGH!" I exclaimed in pain as the tip of his claw slipped past and caught me in the skin.

"Livio, in many cases opium withdrawal causes sensitivity to pain, not the opposite," Vito explained.

"My bad, sorry boss!" Livio smirked.

"Marco, I don't really care what drugs you take. Despite your obvious reliance on opium, you've led us to victory time and time again but that was during a period when trade flowed freely from the Alphate to the Republic and the moment war is declared that will change."

"Vito, what in the hell are you talking about?"

"Where do you think your opium is coming from?"

I paused, thinking very hard. Poppies were native to Europe and their seeds enjoyed as a treat, but they didn't offer anything near the pure joy that the opium poppy did. Apparently they had to grow somewhere warmer and drier and...

"Don't tell me...Anatolia? I've been smoking a fucking wolf flower this whole time?"

"The Tigris Kingdoms grow them too but the vast majority of opium reaching the Republic comes from the Alphate."

"Then they'll be happy enough to sell to us instead!"

"No," Laurent suddenly appeared from the shadows, carrying a long shepherd's cane, the very thing that unhorsed me. "Your reliance on the poppy has spread to the Alphate and songs have been sung of it: 'Slave of the Poppy,' 'Smoke a Pipe, Suck a Cock,' 'Opium Dick Marco-'"

"That's enough!"

"Alpha Aokus has been heard humming the second one in court, it's quite a catchy tune," Laurent continued. "The Alpha is also negotiating exclusive rights to their opium harvest which I understand they'll accept."

"Make them stop, Laurent!" I snapped, growling. "Get your agents to do something! Sabotage the negotiations! Kill the tiger ambassador...no, kill the Alpha!"

"Laurent will not be risking his agent on something that can be cured with seven days of isolation," we suddenly stopped in front of a large tent, surrounded by a wall of smaller tents. "The humans call this, 'Cold turkey,' but I have no idea why. You're going to stay here and we are going to guard you until the opium has flushed out of your system."

"Vito, I order you to-"

"You are going inside the tent and you're not coming out until you're cured. You will stay there alone, no slaves and no Taj."

"Taj..." I whispered, "...she could help."

"Not a chance," Livio snorted, "that vixen is trouble. No offense, Marco, but she's uh...dear, what'd you call it?"

"An enabler!" Sister suddenly called out from behind.

"I love her, don't speak of-"

"Yeah, I know," Livio sighed. "You love her because she lets you do whatever you want and you have a shared interest in warfare, but she ain't the kind of vixen that encourages one to grow and become a better fox like my mate. Hell, I bet she wants to keep you on that shit, wasn't it her Chief that got you hooked in the first place?"

"I..."

Damn, he's right.

"She had nothing to do with that."

"But she never tried to stop her Chief, did she? Never tried to get you off that shit?"

"Enough, Livio," Vito interjected. "We're not here to discuss Taj, we're here to make sure our Dictator is not a _slave_to the Wolven Poppy."

Vito hissed that word, slave. He was trying to get inside my head and it was working. Damn him, he knew me far too well.

"Fine!" I snarled and attempted to make my own way to the tent but my damned officers insisted on holding me tight and slowly escorting me there.

"It's for the best, Marco," Livio reassured me. "We're not just your officers, we're your friends. Opium'll be the death of you if you don't fight it."

Laurent slipped ahead and pushed open the covers to the tent. What little light we had shared among us revealed that cushions were sewn into the tent floor. Aside from that, the tent was totally empty.

"What's this," I sneered at the cushions. "Afraid I'm going to bash my head against the ground?"

"Yes," Vito said before him and Livio suddenly slipped thick, brown leather gloves around my paws and brought them together behind my back. Laurent dropped his cane and took out a length of silk rope, tying it around my wrists.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I demanded.

"Once the withdrawal hits, you'll wanna claw out your throat," Livio grunted. "This'll buy us some time to stop you when that happens."

Livio suddenly pushed me into the tent, the cushions breaking my fall.

"Don't try to escape, Dictator," Vito nodded. "Your plans rely on your successful recovery. We'll be keeping watch in shifts, quietly."

Vito slapped the tent covers closed, shrouding me in darkness.

I felt very much like Philippe, locked up in a dark room and with no hope of escape.

Hyperbolic, I suppose. Philippe would remain where he was until he died, naturally or otherwise. I had merely seven days of confinement left to me and that was far less time than I spent imprisoned on that wretched island and recovering from a gouged eye was sure to have been worse than quitting opium. A measly quivering paw was nothing compared to that.

That was until the nausea hit.

I don't know how long it was, time was measured by whenever my officers came in with a meal to spoon-feed me and my memory was so addled by sickness that I cannot recall how many meals a day they gave me.

On the first day, though it was a prison, this tent might have been quite the luxurious affair, perhaps the summer yurt of an Alphate noble who felt the call to their ancient, nomadic ways still in his veins but not willing to give up the comforts of civilization. If I recall, the Kutlars had such an heirat one point...

But after I awoke from a period of unconsciousness, the room reeked of vomit, shit, and urine. I could barely see in the darkness and my nose was offended no matter where I went. There was nowhere clean as far as I could tell.

I cried out for help but no one came.

"CANIS! KILL ME!"

A torrent of vomit came forth from my maw and I could do nothing more than curl up in a fetal position, begging to die.

That would not come.

My next meal came in. My sense of sight and smell were so shot I could not tell who it was, but they forced me to drink a bowl of broth and stood there, lurking in the shadows by the entrance for what seemed to be forever. At one point I gagged and they seemed to take notice, but I did not vomit. Perhaps they were looking to see if I would evacuate my meal.

Soon I was alone again. Alone with time. Nothing more than damned time.

Just one hit. Just one hit of opium, that was all I needed! Couldn't they have eased me out slowly!?

Perhaps once this was all over, I could have all the opium I wanted...

No! That's just what the wolves want you to think! They're poisoning you!

Damn them! Damn the wolves, the tigers, and the fennecs! They're fucking with me! They think they can control me with their damned flowers!? Marco is not some pitiful slave for them to boss around!

And those fucking officers of mine...Vito, that arrogant son of a bitch...Livio, that gutter-fox...what did they know? What did they fucking know?

"More than you could ever know."

A whisper...a shadow shifting in the scant light the tent flap let in. Someone was here...

But what could I do? I was deprived of my medicine...a pitiful wretch lying in my own refuse.

An assassin, perhaps? If so, I wished for death's embrace, for it would surely be better than what I was experiencing, whether I met with Canis, Felis, or Ursus, whomever's blessings or curses I would face was nothing compared to the hell I endured.

"Do you remember me?"

No, I did not. The voice was rough, far harsher than any I had ever heard. Worse than someone who had ruined their voice through smoking, this was the voice of someone who had been burned from the inside out.

There was a flap of leather and a dim light suddenly entered the tent, caged by glass in a lantern. The figure reached behind him, grabbing the light and passing it in front of him.

I was met with a ghoulish sight. The creature before me was a child of Canis, that much was sure, but from which litter, I could not tell. He was balder than a human and whatever small parts of his flesh that wasn't charred black was bright red, from the tip of his snout to his shoulders, which were covered up by a white robe.

"Do you remember me?" he repeated and I felt vomit rush up to my throat. His teeth were as black as obsidian, just as charred as his skin.

This isn't real...

This can't be...

It's just the opium...

He's dead...

"I was burned alive for you..."

It can't be...

"Guy?" I uttered.

"Yes..." the hideously burnt fox whispered, "I sacrificed so much for you...for what?"

"I would have never expected you to do half of what you did," I paused. "Especially..."

The smell of smoke filled the room, suddenly affronting my useless nose.

"After I served your former rival, Marshal Beaumont?" Guy grumbled. "My former commander resigned...and then I found another."

"I never truly trusted you until you did what you did."

"Died for you?" the air grew still and I found myself shrinking before the shadowy figure as he stood up. "That was always the plan. I had my mind focused, at all times ready to make the final sacrifice. And you?"

"Me?"

"Here you are, sobbing in your own filth, whining about your wretched opium being taken away from you," Guy's eyes suddenly started glowing red. "When I jumped from that tower, flames embracing me, what do you think the doctors told me when they administered opium?"

"That it was necessary?"

"That I was allergic."

The glow from his eyes suddenly dimmed down to nothing and Guy's voice lowered, "I had to recover without any painkillers, save for willow bark. My nerves burnt so badly that I could not even feel them. Unable to move, to speak, to do anything but lie there in pain, waiting for the next breath from my chest...

"But I kept on breathing. Eventually the pain started to go away. My fur did not return, but my pain did not..."

"And you can do the same..."

On the final day there was a moment of stillness. Almost as if I had finally let go of this mortal coil and enjoyed the embrace of the trinity.

But it was like any other day. I woke up in the darkness and smelled my own excrement...

But I could move and do more than sob in my own filth.

Wavering, I got to my feet and walked to the entrance flap, lined with the faint outline of light, and pushed it aside.

I smelled Vito before I saw his suspicious glance peer over at me from the right.

"I'm ready," I said slowly.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"I had a dream..." I gasped, suddenly leaning over on Vito's shoulders, "...Guy visited me."

"He was reported dead, Dictator," Vito cleared his throat. "Six months ago."

"We're at Balaton..." I pointed towards the smell of fresh water, "...the tower we were caught in. It must have been on the other side of the lake. My mind..."

"...Must have been thinking about that?"

I nodded.

"I disagree."

I stared at the brown fox with an incredulous look.

"What do you mean?"

My nose twitched, catching the scent of charcoal from a short distance away from the tent and I turned in its direction.

Standing there, as big as life itself, despite being marked with the scars of death, was the phantom from my dreams.

Guy was leaning against Livio, but there was no mistaking that this was a powerful fox, one who had cheated death greater than anyone I had ever known.

And here he was, walking up to poor, wretched me, and bowing before me.

"I have returned, Dictator," he whispered.

And right then, I was freed from the curse of the poppy.