Fog of War. Chapter One.
Fog of War
Chapter One
By Roofles
The polecat ran into the back of the cave, his hands stretched out in front of him - the only thing stopping him from running right into the wall.
"A dead end!" He gasped, turning to look over his shoulder at the caves entrance. It wasn't far away and he could see, hear the blizzard howling outside. It provided very little light within the cave. "Damnation!" He cursed, moving his hands along the wall in hopes of finding at least a way further inside. Or at least somewhere to hide.
Even over the sound of the howling wind, he could hear a deep terrible growling hunger. It reverberated down the cave towards him, through his own body as Duran slowly turned around to face it. Face the thing that had been hunting him this cold night.
That sound came from the silver fur wolf snout sticking around the corner. And the wolf stopped at that, continuing to growl as his large black nose twitched and sniffed at the air. Tracking where his prey had run too. A pleasant smile washing over the side of it's face as the wolf turned, only a fraction of an inch, towards the cave and moved no further inside.
Duran quickly began looking, for anything, to hide behind. A crack in the wall to hide within, a tunnel hopefully to lead down into the depths of the earth. All he found was a large rock sticking out of the ground and very little else. The stone was black like the rest of the ground in the Frozen Northern lands.
An uncharted, untamed place full of savage monsters and beasts alike. A place Duran had gone to on orders of his Empress in hopes of taming these lands. The first landmark was suppose to be by the giant chasm that separated them from the Valley, his home. They had made due north from there, seeking out one of the last known settlements that had survived the Great Third War. Unaware it had been attacked and destroyed by the Tundra Wolves, the so proclaimed rulers of the Northern lands.
And exactly who Duran was ordered to make contact with.
He was a diplomat, an ambassador for his people to them. Seeking to open the lines of communication, to create trade and even have talks of peace between the two nations. One day in hopes of forming an alliance with the wolves. Or if only a truce. It had not gone as planned.
"Come now, little meat." The wolf chortled. "I told you before, I have no interest in eating you. Yet." And it snickered at that, heavy paws pressed against the cool stone as the wolf slowly moved inside. "You smell... fresh." And it bared its teeth in delight. "Unspoiled, untarnished. It's so hard to come by in these lands."
"I am Ambassador Duran! This is violation of the creed!" The polecat called back, letting his voice echo and bounce around the cave so his location wouldn't, instantly, be pinpointed.
The wolf only laughed some more. "Weaklings always flaunt such silly things about. Hoping a piece of paper will protect them, from my teeth." And it moved further into the cave, blocking the whole entrance. The wolf took a seat there once he saw it was a dead end.
"Do you wish for retribution for this act? For war?" Duran demanded now, his own anger surfacing. These were nothing more than primitive, wild animals as far as he was concerned. Just as savaged and untamed as the land they claimed to own. If he survived this night, Duran would be more than happy to tell his Empress all of this. And to burn the last bridges between their people.
Then again, his death would do just that.
"I doubt, the Alpha-king would mind." The wolf just replied. "Come now, little one. I told you I won't eat you. If you make me come in there, you aren't going to have a good time." The wolf lifted up one front paw and inspected his nails. "Come out grovel, beg for my forgiveness... and maybe I'll forget that you ran away, hm?"
"Slavery is illegal." Duran pointed out as he moved over to one side of the rock to look over. The wolf was huge, it blocked the full entrance with it's body. There would be no way he could possibly sneak past. And the sword at his side was more for decoration than actual use.
"Not here in the North, it isn't." The wolf chuckled once more. "If you wish," the wolf moved to show off the exit, just sitting down next to it. "You may leave. I won't stop you." And the devilish look that passed the wolf's face told Duran all he needed to know.
"You might not." Duran just laughed back.
"Yes, sadly." The wolf nodded, placing a hand over its chest as if already remorseful of Duran's death. "I can't speak the same for my brethren outside. They would be happy to have a warm meal fill their cold bellies."
Duran tried not to gag at the very idea. Such acts were forbidden by the Creed, the doctrine that governed those of the Valley. It was the only thing that kept peace amongst the different clans. All from different areas, of different races and religions. The Creed was a sacred thing that was said to have been passed down by the Goddess Minarva herself. Any act of violating the Creed was met swiftly and without mercy.
Any who didn't follow it was seen as savage brutes with more muscle than principle. And deserved nothing but a quick death.
"The choice is yours." The wolf only smiled further. "Come with me, in the safety of my... loving embrace," and that filled the whole cave with it's laughter. "Or be nothing more than shit for my comrades."
"Vulgar beast." Duran cursed under his breath. He pulled his sword out, showed it above the rock he hid behind, making the wolf's eyes narrow on the blade. Then tossed it to the side. "I'm unarmed." Duran raised his hands above his head as he came around.
The polecat was lean, fit for long travels. He had the muscles of one who practice with the sword but did not fight with it. Royal dark blue robes hung tightly down underneath the silver shoulder plates. A collar was strung loosely around his neck and raised in the back, reinforced with a steel plate to held prevent an assassination attempt. Duran wore arm and leg guards but his chest was free, showing the royal golden seal of his Empress.
"Such a handsome thing," the wolf rose at that, looking him over with a pleased smile.
"I am Duran, Ambassador of the Valley, sent by the Empress herself." Duran gave a half bow. "I would have your name, great hunter." Duran tried to hide the contempt from his voice as he returned to more, diplomatic, solutions.
The wolf stopped at that, a bit stunned. Then laughed, smiling broadly and gave a mock bow himself to Duran in great amusement. "They call me Arn, the great." The wolf added on with a smug smile. "The trackless one, he who is but snow." The wolf went on proudly.
"That is a long title." Duran said not letting it show how foolish it sounded. Duran was a politician, he could use his silver tongue as most would a sword. "A long, but honorable title. You must have done great things for your people to earn it."
The wolf lifted up his ears, tilting his muzzle upwards a bit. A gesture of pride, showing his own throat to the enemy as if saying they weren't even a threat. "My yes. You should see my trophies."
"I look forward to the chance, when I can." Duran gave another bow. "An honorable warrior such as yourself must have many great feats of strength to show."
Arn flexed his toes at that. Most prey cowered and feared before him, begging for their life. Such pitiful acts made him...hungry. This one however didn't even smell of fear. Showing him the respect he deserved. And flattery was so hard to find in the cruel North.
The wolf was mostly bare, showing the back of his silver fur, the black of his paws and the white of his underbelly. There were large shoulder pads on his front legs. Each foot had gloves over the back of them and Duran could see metal on Arn's back side and thighs. There were several hooks and buckles on these back pieces of metal (armor Duran had only seen on horses before) and Duran knew it was so they could attach leashes and belts to captives and drag them behind.
The wolves were one of the last known people to still walk on all fours, even if they could use their front hands for more.
Duran took a brooch off his shoulder, where it latched onto the robe, and offered it to the wolf with an open palm. "A gift, a trophy if you will." Duran bowed his head, breathing heavily now that he was so close to the wolf. He could actually smell the large beasts stench from here. "For tracking me within this blizzard."
The wolf looked down at him, judging the pitiful offering. It was lavish in jewels and gems, a metal setting with silver filigree of intricate design all around it. It wasn't exactly the same type of trophy Arn was used too. No...
Arn took two nails and picked the brooch up, moving his hand over to place it back where Duran had taken it from. And then opened up his finger, slowly coiling them around Duran's upper body.
"My trophy, is you." Arn just smiled wider.
Duran flinched at that. "I hope it is worthy of one so great." Duran said in a far too convincing voice.
Arn beamed at that. It had been ages since anyone had praised him so. The woman of the pack were just as strong an mighty as the males. They weren't known for praising others than their mate. Which were hard to come by. The other hunters were always boasting about themselves, not of others. Then there was the Alpha-king. Who showed even less support, expecting no less from his pack. And demanding ever more.
Duran offered up both hands. Arn looked at the gesture a bit confused but would never say he didn't understand.
"To tie them up, to drag me behind. Like the others." Duran said carefully, not wishing to show the wolf's ignorance.
The attack had been quick and brief. His guard had been taken down expertly so and Duran could only watch as his whole group was taken out. Duran couldn't do much more than that, watch. So watch he did. Watching and analyzing the attack formation of the wolves. To see what was to become of his men, friends. To understand every single little detail he could in hopes of one day using it to his advantage.
Most were killed. Others were taken however. The others, like himself, those that weren't clearly fighters. The wolves seemed to know this. Picking off any who could challenge them and then taking the rest captive. They were tied up and bound, clipped to the back of the wolves metal sides and then dragged towards only the Gods know where. As if they were some sort of cattle...
"Nonesense." Arn scoffed. And the wolf bent down to nose at him. That large black nose bumping Duran in the face, then down over his body. It took Duran a second to see Arn was looking for any more hidden blades. At least the wolf wasn't a complete idiot. "If I did such a thing, it'd mess up your pretty fur." Arn raised a finger up to pet the side of Duran's face as if he were some kind of... doll. The reason he was given the brooch back, to accessorize and look pretty for the wolf to play with.
Duran bowed at that, saying a word of thanks while inside he was plotting a thousand and one ways to kill the wolf for this mockery.
Arn turned to his side, facing the entrance, and bent down on all fours to offer his back. Arn looked back at him; Duran was astonished.
"You two legs are so slow. Helpless, really." Arn mocked.
Duran swallowed his pride, knowing that so long as Arn found him to be... amusing, he would survive. And so he did as he was told and climbed up onto the wolf's back.
The fur was thicker than Duran thought it to be. The outer layer was coarse and flakes of snow were still on it. The underlayer was warm, soft and Duran could actually feel Arn's flesh under it as he climbed up between the wolf's shoulder blades, sliding his legs just behind Arn's front ones. It fit, a little too comfortable as Arn got back up.
The wolf moved over, taking Duran's sword and placing it in a sheath on the inner parts of one of the front leg's gloves. The wolf's outfits seemed more fit to be scavengers than to be a warriors; Duran didn't point this out as Arn headed into the storm.
Duran pulled his cowl up over his face and around his short muzzle to protect against the howling wind. The snow blew hard and slapped him in the side of the face. Duran just lowered his body, closer to the wolf's and stole the heat from him to stay warm as Arn began to head in seemingly a random direction.
The wolf had chased him in this storm and it was only by the Goddess's good fortune that Duran had stumbled on the cave. Duran hoped the wolf would lose interest or lose track. It was foolish, almost suicidal to try and find anything in this storm. Yet, Arn had tracked him down almost desperate to catch him.
The wolf said nothing as they moved, focusing on traveling in the heavy snowstorm. Duran and his men had been stranded because of this storm. The wolves had attacked during it, using it to their advantage. Even before they knew what had hit them, it was over. Their scouts had been taken out so quickly, so silently that the main party only knew they were gone by the time the wolves set on them.
It was brilliant, Duran admitted. Their tactics were cunning, swift and brutal. Their whole camp had been ransacked and taken as just another trophy during the raid.
The storm was fierce and unkind, as the wolves assault had been. Duran lowered his face against that thick fur and hid it from the winds cruel lash. There was a leather strap underneath one of Arn's shoulder plate, a cloth under that to help it from digging into the wolf's shoulders. Duran hid his snout underneath, to keep warm; at the cost of smelling the wolf even more.
Within a few hours the two came to an abrupt halt.
"Off." Arn ordered him, in a harsh voice. Duran didn't ask as he quickly obeyed, his eyes keen as he looked around to figure out why the two of them had stopped. The snow was coming down far less than it had but still thick. Duran could barely make the tents in the distance. Fur-lined, nomadic tents of the wolves most likely. Their camp.
Arn gave him a push in front and walked behind, huffing heavily under his breath as he moved forward. Duran could see the weariness the travels had taken on the wolf. It might be possible to escape, and then only to die within this storm. Duran could wait for the opportunity... as well as continue the mission given to him.
He was now within the wolf camp, where they had originally been heading in the first place.
Tents lined the outer side of the camp, large tents made of some Elk fur. The great elk herds could endure this weather as the wolves had. They were great beasts that rivaled even the wolves in size. They were primitive race and none more intelligent as Duran had thought the wolves to be. These outer tents helped against the storm, most likely storage tents for the raid they had just committed.
It reminded Duran of the wolves themselves. The outer tents were to protect them from the storm. The inner tents were for living in.
These tents were made of leather and strung up on massive poles that were forced into the ground. A massive totem had been erected in the very center of the camp. The top was of a massive wolf that's body stretched all the way down to the ground. The length of it had been hand carved with pictures, stories and hunts this group had been on. A small section of the base of the totem was being carved as the two entered the camp; the picture was of the raid they had just done.
A large fire raged nearby and several logs had been set around it to serve as seating for the wolves.
"An here," a wolf said loudly, a scout standing on guard. "I thought they had gotten you, Arn." The wolf laughed, baring his teeth. Then stopped as he saw Duran.
Arn gave a smug grin to the wolf and said nothing as he pushed Duran forward.
There were a dozen plus wolves about. Duran found it hard to see the difference between the females and males. All looked like warriors. Covered in battle scars, dressed in the undergarments of their armor and each carrying weapons of some kind. Massive axes, spears and swords. One of the smaller wolves even carried a hefty crossbow with a quiver at his side. Every weapon had been burnt black as if pulled out of a fire.
"Fascinating," Duran muttered taking note of everything. Arn gave him a shove from behind.
"Speak only when told too." Arn growled, though it sounded more like a warning than a threat. The wolf seemed nervous as he looked around.
Many of the others were brandishing, showing off trinkets from Duran's camp. The red silk cloth of the command tent was draped over a females shoulders. A smug look on her face. Jewels, gems, bracelets and necklaces hung off another males body where he had attempted to put everything on (everything had been planned to be used as trade, currency for this mission).
Duran quickly looked away as he saw one of his dead comrades, being strung up like a doll by another wolf. Used a puppet. The greasy looking wolf laughed as he made the dead body dance.
Each were showing off their prizes. And then everyone stopped to look at Arn.
The female, draped in the red command tent, picked at her teeth leaning forward a bit. "And what have we here?" She asked aloud. There was a massive two handed, doubled edge axe at her side. The weapon was larger than Duran was.
"Bella," Arn said stopping. Duran stopped with him, keeping his wits about him. The polecat was ready to turn around and take back the sword Arn had stashed away and fight for his life if need be. He felt like a prized cow coming to auction. "Looks like I won this time." And he chuckled, taking a seat behind Duran. He used one hand to place on Duran's shoulder, and half his side, pulling him a bit closer. Duran could feel Arn tighten his fingers as if afraid the other wolves would take Duran away from him.
Duran could see Arn fidgeting, worried as he looked around.
"Impressive." A wolf said from the other side of the circle. The massive wolf stood up, holding a massive tripled edged wicked spear and stabbing it into the ground. The wolf had lost an eye and half an ear on the same side of his face. His fur was silver like the others but instead of black markings, he had deep brown ones. It somehow reminded Duran of home, in the valley. Of the muddy river beds.
Duran also noted how, while all the others were showing off, this one wolf didn't have a single trophy to show. He may have not been part of the raiding party, or he might not need to show that he needed a prize. And Duran instantly figured out that this wolf, standing on his hind legs no less, was in fact the leader.
Bernard, as Duran would soon come to learn his name to be, wasn't the largest of the wolves, no. He was even slightly shorter than Arn was. However the scars written all over his body told as many stories as the totem did. Of countless fights he had fought and won, or at least come out alive. The wolf had a leather strap, lion cloth on and very little else. A buckle was tied up over his chest as well. All this Duran could see as Bernard walked over to inspect him.
The wolf crouched down, lifting up a hand to force Duran's muzzle up to look at him. Duran gritted his jaw, trying to keep from showing his hatred for all of them.
"His eyes," Bernard said softly, as if speaking to Duran himself. "Are filled with fire." Bernard looked up with his one good eye at Arn. "He'll be difficult to break."
"I look forward to the challenge." Arn just said, trying to keep his head up. He lowered his muzzle though, in the presence of the war-parties leader. Arn pawed at the ground nervously in front of the wolf.
"While others thought to take petty things," Bernard said softly still in a gentle voice, looking around at the others. At the man with the jewelery and the female with the cloth. "And some wish for decoration," and he looked at the grizzled wolf still playing with the dead body of one of Duran's guards. "You thought to bring forth both." Bernard almost asked as he smiled widely and turned to face the others, twisting Duran's muzzle in his hand as he did. "I believe we have a winner, this hunt."
There were cheers, boos and overall merriment as the losers pouted with smiles and others cheered at another victorious hunt. Bella even laughed as she claimed to be the winner of the next hunt.
"Careful, boy." Bernard said as everyone else cheered and congratulated Arn for his catch. Bernard was speaking to Duran, still holding his muzzle in one hand. "If you bite me," Bernard showed his teeth. "I'll bite back."
"It'd be worth it." Duran muttered back in reply, glaring up at the wolf.
Bernard crouched back down and Duran wondered if he was going to strike him for his insolence. Bernard just let his muzzle go and continued to look at the polecat. "The weak-," Bernard began as if to explain why he was in the position he was in.
"And what?" Duran spat back quickly, his voice boiling over with hatred. It was one thing to attack them. Another to steal from them. But to parade the dead around like some sort of... of commodity was too much. "Attack us during a snowstorm? How brave of you." And Duran took delight in seeing the frown that washed over Bernard's face. "How strong of you. To attack us with our pants down."
And Duran didn't manage another word as Bernard tightened his fingers around the polecats throat, lifting him up off the ground without even needing to rise himself.
The other wolves watched as they poured drinks and passed food around.
"You should have been more prepared." Bernard just said in a low voice. Duran choked a bit but managed to give out a laugh. That made the wolf lift up his good ear. He dropped Duran onto the ground.
The polecat rubbed at his throat, coughing several times. The other wolves had returned to the party that was starting. Arn stayed close by, watching his prize from the corner of his eyes. Wanting to do something and at the same time knowing he couldn't against the leader. Arn was trying to tell Duran to shut up, afraid his prize would be ruined by the time Bernard gave it back to him.
"Prepared?" Duran coughed, mockingly saying the word. "For what? To be attacked? On a diplomatic mission of peace!" He snarled each word as he scrambled back to his feet.
Bernard twitched a whisker at that. And said nothing.
"Warriors? They were guards." And Duran looked over at his dead friend, strung up like a puppet and pranced around. "To try and protect us from beasts... like you." Duran got up carefully, wiping one arm off and never taking his green eyes off the wolf.
Bernard followed his look, over to the dead body of his friend.
"If you wish to take him back," Bernard said looking back at him now and moving aside. "Do it. Words are cheap here." He said still in that soft voice. Duran watched him carefully, seeing what he was talking about.
"And you think I should challenge something thrice my size?" Duran gave a laugh at that, a soft sound. Almost one of defeat. Almost.
"And here I thought you had some courage in you." Bernard said, with some disappointment.
"I might be brave, but I'm not stupid." Duran just replied. This wasn't exactly the talks of peace he had in mind. But his silver tongue worked nonetheless. It was about the confidence, the respect he still showed for the leader that allowed him to continue speaking.
Bernard nodded at that. "Grazle," Bernard said loudly then and looked over towards a female who was talking it up with her mate. The female looked over. "Bring forth a suitable weapon, for our young... guest." And Bernard smiled at that.
The whole camp took notice of this now, even some of the guards came over to watch, forming a circle around the two. Duran and the wolf who was still treating his comrade like a puppet. Duran could see the wolf was drunk and wasn't even paying attention. It only made his blood boil further.
"Pick a weapon," Bernard said with a smile at the corner of one of his black lips. Duran didn't even need to look as he reached out and snagged the handle of a sword. His own blade Arn had added to the collection.
The blade wasn't made for fighting. That didn't mean it could be used in one. It was a lavish sword that would have looked like a Jian sword in our own times. There was even a tassel at the end of it. Duran spun the blade around, testing it's weight a few time before pointing it at the wolf. It was a flashy show of swordplay; Duran had needed to impress some of the Swamp folk with it once.
"I am Ambassador Duran of the Falcrest clan." Duran said loudly, wanting everyone to hear. It was one way to be diplomatic, to continue his mission. If words were cheap then he'd let his actions speak for him. One way or another, he was going to continue his mission. Even if as a... pet.
The drunken wolf looked up at him.
"Tell me, Chieftain." Duran looked over at Bernard from the corner of his eye. "Do your kind have a starting bell? Or can I just begin." Duran gritted his teeth but didn't want to do something out of the rules. The wolves must have their own form of Creed, of honor at least. It'd be his deathbed if he were to walk all over it.
"So long as the other party knows the challenge." Bernard just replied softly, giving him a nod.
Duran barely let him finish as he bolted forward, running with his body lower to the ground. It made a few of the wolves gasp.
Duran had practice his swordplay since he was but a small kit. It was against trained guards in the royal palace. Most had gone easy on him but one hadn't. And it most likely would save his life in the days to come.
Duran twisted his whole body around, bringing even his tail close to him, and slashed out. Cleanly. And severed each one of the strings that held up his dead comrade. Duran caught the body as the wolf stared, in a stunned drunken stupor as his toy was taken from him. Duran retreated back several feet with the body, laying it out on the ground. Duran gave it a once over, closed his fallen comrades eyes, then stood up once more.
The other wolf snarled now, foaming a bit at the mouth as he got up on his hind legs. The wolf reached over to grab at one of his twin blade axes.
Duran didn't, couldn't let this turn into a real fight. He had caught them off guard once with his speed. And now needed to do it again. Charging straight at the wolf without letting his fear dull his steps, to close the distance. To use his smaller size to his advantage; that was what he had been taught in countless sparring actions. Still his heart pounded, painfully so in his throat.
This wasn't a sparring season.
The wolf lifted up his axe, a foolish move as it gave Duran plenty of time to attack. Duran would've been hit as the axe came down, but the polecat didn't stop with his charge. Instead, he slid right between the wolves open legs and slashed with his sword in a clean semi-circle, clipping the wolves hamstrings and tearing them each open.
And the bigger they are, the harder they fall.
The wolf hit the ground with a startled, pained yelp like a bag of bricks. His own weight being used against him as his drunken mind couldn't react fast enough to catch his fall and he ended up landing right on the end of his muzzle. Breaking his nose.
There was a moments silence as Duran stared back, ignoring the crowd so close to him. The polecat was breathing heavily; having never been in a real fight before, even with a handicap like this. The sword felt so heavy in his hand, weighing down his whole arm. And his body felt so tired, exhausted from just this.
The whole camp burst into loud cheers then. Some were clapping, others let out howls and the rest showed their approval by drinking even more.
Duran figured the fight was won, and in his favor. Still, the polecat couldn't let that go. Just let such an act be done without some retribution. The dead were meant to be grieved for! To be buried and returned to the Goddess. Not played with and...and insulted like this!
That guard, his friend, had a family. Had two kids! And now they would never see their father again... Because of this betrayal.
Duran took hold of the sword and jumped up onto the wolf's back, running down his spine quickly and stopping on his shoulder blades. Lifting the sword high up into the air and turning its deadly, bloodied point down between the wolf's ears. Death was the only way this bastard could make amends for what he had done.
A hand caught both of Duran's arms and stopped him. Duran glared at Bernard, who was just looking at him with the same eyes as he had before.
"The fight is yours. The duel won. And the prize, transferred to you." Bernard just said in the same soft tone. Duran was about to bite Bernard's hand, to make him let go! So he could finish off this son of a bitch...
That would be an insult to this duel. To his friend and wouldn't help with his mission.
Duran sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell and his grip loosened on the sword. Bernard didn't let go, nor did he move the polecat. Only moving his hand as Duran got off the fallen wolf who was whimpering pitifully and holding its bloodied snout. The wolf didn't even seem aware that Duran had been on his back, about to kill him.
"A precise move," Bernard noted maybe as a compliment as he returned Duran to Arn who was waiting nearby. "Cripple a larger foe so quickly. Well done." Bernard nodded, approving his fighting style.
"In a fair fight." Duran just replied, turning his back on the wolf. Duran shoulders fell and his adrenaline burned away in the cold of the storm. "My people could win against those five times our size." Duran moved over, letting the sword go as it was taken from him by one of the other wolves, and walked back to Arn. "Rather than attacked, in the middle of the night... while they were still sleeping." Duran glared back at Bernard before his shoulder sagged once more and he felt... he felt so tired from all of this.
"Come," Arn said quickly before Duran could put both feet into the grave he was digging for himself.
Duran just followed at Arn's side as the two headed off to one of the tents in the far back. Unaware, Bernard was watching him the whole time with those same empty eyes.
"Are you trying to get killed?" Arn nearly shouted at Duran as he closed the tent behind them. The tent had several furs laid out on the ground and even more in the corner. Duran figured it was his bed. There was very little else, other than Arn's belongings. Which weren't much. "Get me in trouble?" The wolf went on.
Duran wanted to laugh at that but as he turned to look back at the wolf, he could see the worry in those eyes. Maybe for his own well being, but still worry. Duran would have to tread carefully around Bernard in the future.
"I was only trying to make a good impression, for you." Duran gave a half bow to the wolf. "That you were so worthy to capture one as myself, to make me submit to you! Where I would do no such thing, to anyone else." Duran said not even caring if he sounded truthful at this point.
As far as the polecat was concerned, Arn was but another wolf he'd need to kill.
Arn clenched his jaw before snorting a sigh and shaking his large head. Duran stroking his ego was a weakness Arn was beginning to enjoy the polecat taking advantage of. "Never again. Don't do something so... foolish! Get us both killed." And Arn moved over towards the bed, shedding off his armor and gear as he went.
The travels showed on Arn's face and the large wolf collapsed onto the bed.
Duran didn't ask why Arn's tent was farthest from the others, almost on the outer line of tents. Was that why this wolf had been so desperate to bring back a worthy prize? Duran could see no other "trophies" on the walls or floor. All Arn had to show was himself, was the polecat.
Was Arn the lowest member of the pack?
"I grow weary." Arn growled a bit, rolling over onto his back. The wolf undid the belt around his waist but didn't take the loincloth off as he sprawled out.
It took Duran a few seconds. "Do you need me to get you some water, sir?" Duran asked, clenching his teeth. The polecat was tired, in the middle of a wolf encampment and had no weapon to defend himself.
Arn just replied with a loud snore, one of his hind paws twitching as he succumbed to sleeps embrace.
"Thank the Goddess," Duran rolled his eyes and got up. He looked over the mess Arn had made taking off his gear. There was a skinning knife tucked away inside one of the gloves. Duran could easily take it and slit the wolf's throat before the large brute was even aware what was going on.
Duran chuckled a bit at that and moved away. It'd only end with his death. Or worse. Torture. There was no telling what these mongrels would do to him. It was still a pleasant, warm thought to have.
"A prize won?" Duran muttered thinking about what Bernard had said. He quickly moved out of the tent, slinking along the others and staying in the shadows.
One of the guards spotted him but waved it off, not even trying to stop him. Duran could run for it but in this weather he'd freeze to death. Already the chill was making Duran shiver.
Duran made his way back to where the party was still underway. Some wolves took note of him, one even patted him on the back and remarked at how well he fought. The rest left him alone as if he weren't even worth the time.
The large wolf Duran had injured was gone. And so was the body of his friend, the guard that had saved his life in the attack and the one Duran had won back in the duel.
"Where-," Duran barely got his breath out before he saw, or rather felt the presence of someone behind him. He spun around, glaring upwards at the wolf. Showing his teeth and claws.
Bernard looked down at him with some amusement.
"Where is my," Duran said but Bernard silenced him with a finger. Pointing over towards the edge of camp. Duran didn't even bother to ask him about it and quickly ran over.
There was a shallow grave there. Someone had moved the snow and dug within this cold, almost black earth and buried the body of his friend there.
"If you wish," Bernard said from behind him. "I could redig him up."
Duran was on his knees, in front of the grave. He didn't reply to Bernard, instead grabbed at a piece of wood most likely used to keep the central fire going. With a claw he carved the name of the friend he had both saved and lost this night. He stuck the wood at the head of the grave and lowered his head, saying a remembrance, a prayer that the Goddess may take him quickly.
Bernard watched the scene. Though he understood the concept, it was lost on the wolf. The dead were the dead. Nothing more than lifeless husks. Wasted weight that should be left behind.
"Your kind trespassed on our lands." Bernard said softly, in that tone he seemed to reserve for Duran. Or maybe any captive. It was almost gentle but there was a warning too it.
"And that gives you the right?" Duran asked in no more than a whisper. Tears in his eyes. Finally able to shed tears for his fallen comrades.
"It does." Bernard just said looking at him.
"How?" Duran said spinning around and glaring up at him, showing his teeth once more. "How does that give you a right?" Duran demanded.
"These are our lands. You know this and still," Bernard began.
"What?" Duran interrupted the wolf. And for a second Bernard flashed his fangs in annoyance. The act made Duran pull back. It took a moment for the polecat to collect himself; it had been as if Bernard had just clenched his teeth around Duran's throat. In that brief second, Duran saw his life flash before his eyes. "How does it give you the right?" Duran began once more, in a very calm tone, unable to look at Bernard now. He was shaking, his whole body was shaking and not because of the cold. "You gave us permission to come."
Bernard lifted an eyebrow and uncrossed his arms.
"We always send word before our arrival. We don't cross the borders until we get the Ok from those who rule them." Duran said softly, clenching his hands tightly. "You... gave us permission to come into your lands. Then you attack us!" Duran glared up at him.
"We did no such thing." Bernard said, though he seemed uneasy. He was staring at Duran, reading him as if the polecat was an open book. And the large wolf was sure Duran was telling the truth.
Duran reached at his side and found that the scroll he always kept nearby had been lost sometime in the night. "Crap," Duran cursed and looked around as if he had dropped it. "I had a scroll... it was requesting permission to come across your borders. We got a seal! A stamp of approval from you, uh... one of you." Duran faltered. He didn't have the paperwork. Didn't have what he needed.
Duran shoulders fell then. Without it, in every right, Bernard had a right to kill him. To kill his party. They would never come without getting permission but without the scroll, with the proof of it! Duran's party looked to be a, small, invading force.
"W-we got..." Duran said softly, tears running down his face now. It made the larger wolf falter a bit; he could see how young Duran really was just then. "We had permission. And you attacked us..." Duran looked down at his hands. "And I don't... if I had the..." Duran looked up at him before shaking his head quickly. "It doesn't matter now," the polecat said heading back to Arn's tent. "It doesn't...nothing matters now." And Duran had to use one of the nearby tents for support, or he'd have just crumbled to the ground.
Bernard watched him go. The wolf jaw twitched in another snarl; this time not at Duran. The wolf could smell fowl play here. And Bernard was not about to be used. This insult could not be overlooked.
Duran stripped the mantel, his robe off and let it fall on the ground in Arn's tent. He just lay down next to the bed. He was defeated. He lost. His men? His friends? His mission of peace? All of it was lost. And it was his fault...
So in tears, Duran curled up on himself. Wishing that the Goddess, too, would take him to the netherworld so he could apologize to everyone, he had let down this night.