by Simon Archer
This place was a powder keg, and I was the light.
16
“Didn’t you say that you were trying to be subtle about entering the city?” Tinker questioned me back at the catacombs.
“We made it work for us.” I defended our more grand entrance. “Wolves respect power. The weaker nobles would keep off of us, and the stronger ones were going to pay attention. Yes, we attracted more attention than initially planned, but we didn’t look like we were declaring war when we did so. It was a display of dominance, not aggression. Plus, they can’t prove we even touched him.”
“Would they not see that as an act of war from your fake mystery lord?” Tinker probed. “Or, rather, wouldn’t they see ‘Dragonoak’s’ violent arrival as a clear sign that the real you was not here on peaceful terms?”
“I didn’t kill the guy,” I said. “And his whole job seemed to let the other lords know about any new people coming into the city and what they had. He’s an intimidation tactic to make the Baron seem more powerful and scary, to get in your head as soon as you walk through the doors. I really didn’t have anything to lose by having him worked over.”
“No, I didn’t mean to question your judgment, sir!” Tinker apologized. “I’m sure you knew what you were doing the whole time. I was just asking for a little clarification since Hopper’s kick wasn’t planned. Thank you.”
“No problem, happy to help.” I excused her. “Besides, that TollWolf was an asshole.”
“Yes.” Hopper agreed wholeheartedly and firmly with a frown.
“Yes.” Tinker did as well, though not with a frown.
“But you are right,” I admitted. “Things were complicated and moving forward was going to be tricky.”
Entering through the gates, we came upon the thoroughfare of the town. ‘Bustling’ would be the most appropriate word for any city the size of Thumperton Port. It was a bit cliché, but it was very fitting, given the open streets filled with street vendors selling wares like jewelry, meats and fish, fine clothes, and elegant armors. There were trades made, laughs shared, and smiles throughout. There was a gilded calm to everything, and anyone could have had a fun day exploring like this was some kind of tourist spot. Under very different circumstances, I very well could have. The place was certainly beautiful at first glance.
I might have even called it peaceful or idyllic if it weren’t for all of the Wolves walking around with chained Rabbits at their heel like dogs. My heart broke just watching it from the front gate, pushing myself to the front of my Wolf pack. A Wolf in the classic blue lord’s colors pulled on an older hare slave’s chain when he was walking too slow, yanking at the guy’s neck as his feet struggled to catch up. Another noble at a toe claw cleaning station, similar to an old-timey boot shiner, didn’t even bother to do even that, just snapping his fingers as the Wolf lackey next to him beat the slave cleaning toe-claws with a club. A third hare spilled a drip of a hot drink from a platter he was carrying, spraying it onto a third noble’s fluffy shirt as he sat at a restaurant’s outside table. With just a look and a jerk of the head, the noble ushered the slave back into the restaurant, tears in his eyes, to submit himself for punishment inside.
Didn’t matter where you turned your head. Some Wolf was physically abusing a Rabbit slave.
What you wouldn’t see, in any direction, is a Bunny. Among all of the slaves hanging about, following nobles, carrying nobles on goddamn palanquins, there wasn’t a woman in sight. Glad my instinct was so spot on to hide Hopper. I was hoping we could have hidden her among some other slaves, or just passed her off as a non-magical one if anything went wrong, but now I had to come up with a different emergency plan. If it really had to come down to it, I had my eyes on enough nobles for clean shots, which would even the odds immensely as their packs joined mine in the heat of battle. I was confident I could have survived that, but the Rabbit casualties would have been astronomical. I wasn’t going to let that happen on my watch.
Already, the eyes of Wolves were turning to look at me, a few offended gasps popping up from out of my line of sight as I walked my group down the street. With this many lookers, every move I made was public knowledge, no matter what I did. Leading the group onward, we explored the town, my eyes open to the interactions between the Wolves. I was looking specifically for which Wolves worked for which nobles, which of those nobles were higher up than others, and how to tell the difference between them.
Like you might have expected, the lower ranking Wolves were far more openly savage, quicker to fly off the handle at a provocation, and more likely to be far more drastic in almost everything. They’d have more Wolves following them around, strutting around like peacocks and posing like crabs in the shapes of dog men when they came across someone they were almost going to challenge, but ultimately didn’t. Slaves were shouted at constantly, even if they weren’t doing anything in particular, and sometimes just because they weren’t doing anything. My dogs starving in the desert had more civility in them than anything these nobles combined could hope to scrape together into one jar.
The higher you went, the more reserved the Wolves became, though not any less full of rage and pride. Their gestures were smaller, but they held more weight with other Wolves and slaves. With a few, a simple look would keep another Wolf from stepping in their path, and a gesture of the hand would prompt Wolves and Rabbits alike into action, almost like choreography. They moved slower but had much more power with every step. The pride of their effect on others showed on their faces, as every glare told the objects of their gaze how ant-like they were, and every smile spoke of how pleased they were that this was understood. They were demons in period clothing, and this hell of lackeys and slaves was built and gamed solely for their benefit. Even with all of their supposed subtlety, they were no less animalistic than the lower class, grunts, or slaves they looked down on.
I contemplated whether I wanted to strike first or not, given how much my muscles were aching for violence. If I did, my first target would have had to be picked wisely, or I’d have tipped my hand that I was an independent pack leader without any support, and the Baron would have been on my ass with every guard before I could make another move. A noble too low on the social ladder, and I wouldn’t have had enough new resources to launch a counteroffensive against Timberpine or the Baron, or even the authority to challenge them officially. Too high, and they could have just refused me, and I’d have been fighting with only my seven boys here. I had to think of strategic locations, too, considering where I could bunker down if I had to, and where I could do the most damage.
It looked like observe and recon was the name of the game until we could find the target we needed. As long as we laid low, hopefully, these Wolves would leave us alone until we could act. If I could have tricked another high-ranking noble to challenge me, I could be in the challenging ranking I needed, but that still wouldn’t guarantee that I’d get enough Wolves and land to supply an assault on Timberpine. However, it would let the challenge slide under the radar, since I wouldn’t have taken active action against anyone in the Baron’s territory. Even that would only work for so long
As if directed to a new point being made in the argument by the universe itself, my attention was drawn to a low class noble, with an almost orange hue to his fur, shouting at a slave. The noble’s jacket was faded, a sign he didn’t have the influence to get another one, and the slave was dressed in little more than sackcloth, another clear sign that the noble’s resources were thin. The poor thing cowered in place, a brown-furred Rabbit that almost looked the part of a giant jackrabbit in clothes, save for a slightly more humanoid shape to his chest and arms. The noble’s jaws snapped just beyond the slave’s back. When the quaking Rabbit wouldn’t move out of the little ball he’d folded himself into, the noble snapped his fingers, beckoning a nearby grunt to hand him a club.
Every cracking blow sent shrieks of pain throughout the market place. My stomach nearly hurled at the thought of my forced inaction bubbled with
in. The screams grew louder, the beating swings flew harder, and my hand trembled as I struggled to keep it from grabbing a weapon. My temptations began to present more arguments. Would any of these Wolves have cared if I killed this monster right here? Maybe if I tried to make it seem like another noble did it, I could still pass it off without suspicion. I couldn’t have just sat by and done nothing, right? I racked my brain at how I could satisfy this bloodlust filling within me as I witnessed this.
Then I remembered some sense. The noble was lowborn and killing him in cold blood would only draw attention to me. If the other Wolves saw me shoot him, they’d all assume the worst and attack me. Given how I’d seen them treated, they wouldn’t bother clearing the streets of the other slaves. I’d have killed dozens of Rabbits because I couldn’t control myself. I relaxed my hand.
Hopper, still wrapped in her cloak, took a step forward to act, probably as enraged as I was. I placed my other hand on her shoulder, keeping her where she was. Her speed was not lost on me, and I knew full well that she would have already smashed that noble’s head in before I could have blinked. Her slow start was her way of asking permission, and it broke my heart to deny it.
And the Rabbit stopped screaming.
That relaxed hand snapped right onto the handle of my gun, tensed and ready to unload an infinite magazine into this Wolf. The beast hadn’t stopped beating the slave, now a cadaver, as it growled incessantly. Every crumb of willpower was brought to bear as my hand slowly left the handle of the gun, leaving it in its holster. I had to keep the lives I was keeping away from harm by not giving in, and all of the Rabbits, bunnies and hares alike, that’d be free of this once I was done here.
The only thing I could do now was use this to strengthen the resolve to fight this. Before, the Baron was an obstacle I was working around to get to Timberpine, and these Wolf nobles were beasts that I had to contend with to keep my estate. From that moment, I knew that thinking that was foolish. The whole system would have to change in this city if there was going to be peace. I was going to kill any of these Wolves or nobles that put themselves in my way. And I was sure they would be leaping to stop me from ending this.
Not a single one raised so much as a glance as the whole atrocity took place. And I know it wouldn’t have been manly to admit, but I shed just a few tears. A few more came about at the horror of the noble embracing its animal side, grasping the limp Rabbit in its jaws as it walked away with it, his lackey following. I didn’t doubt in the slightest that the Wolf was finding a secluded and safe spot to eat it. Oh, dear god, it hurt inside, feeling helpless. I dried the tears quietly, memorizing that Wolf’s face and color for when I had the ability to do something about him. And I was going to make it hurt just as much for him.
“Quite the embarrassing spectacle, wouldn’t you say?”
The sound of a forced British accent and a deep-toned narcissism squirmed its way into my ear. My self-control was being tested that day, first by the ranch-spa, then the TollWolf, then the beating, and now this creep’s voice, which would have snapped me around with a gun in hand just the day before. Instead, I turned myself slowly to see who the voice belonged to.
Unsurprisingly, a Wolf noble addressed me. Cloaked in snowy white fur, his wolfish features were more controlled than the others, less mangled and primal and more like a housepet. He was also a little thinner than others, in many ways more fox-like, while still retaining a fair amount of the brutish bulk necessary to appear like the predator of their species’ namesake. While most Wolves had eyes like mud, his were a bright yellow, like a piercing beam of sunlight. His noble attire was the classic coat and frilly shirt, but his were toned to darker colors than others as if showing off just how much more hues he had to stain his clothes with.
He was accompanied by two guards, stocky even for Wolves, both wearing leather armors with metal pauldrons and standing at attention to either side. They had a secret-service vibe to them, with a no-nonsense scanning of the environment at all times.
What was surprising was the brass-colored wheelchair he rolled on, his legs covered in a white sheet to hide them. The chair was as ostentatious as any would expect from a noble who valued themselves so highly, with a silver inlay within the patterning and gems encrusted upon the wheel guards. A silver-headed cane hung in a special slot just behind the chair, ready for him to pull out as necessary.
That definitely complicated things. A noble gains power through strength in combat, and I’d yet to learn of anyone who fights well in a wheelchair, let alone among ultra-strength beast combat politics. Another noble should have come and dethroned him already if he couldn’t keep them off. Either the wheelchair was a scam, or he had a secret I couldn’t have begun to guess. Whatever the case, he would have screwed me over if I ever underestimated him. I just didn’t know how he would have done it.
I put a hand on Hopper’s shoulder as I pushed to the front of my group, my Wolf pack splitting like the red sea to allow me to pass. Hopper’s trembling told me exactly who this Wolf was, but I figured I’d play dumb until he introduced himself properly. If there was any sympathy for him because of his wheelchair, it was less than ashes now. That wheelchair was a scam, I just knew it. But, he still had to challenge me before I could prove it and then kill him.
“I mean, for the lower Wolves,” the bleached noble continued, “such banal displays are so commonplace, one hardly notices their frequent occurrences anymore. I, personally, don’t particularly care for hare, but I have indulged myself from time to time when it suited me. Like any noble worth his salt, I only dine upon the finest bunnies when it suits me. It’s almost a rite of passage in some cities. I must say that I’m curious how a noble of your… background would view such a practice. What’s your opinion on the taste of Rabbit flesh?” This son of a bitch was trying to get under my skin. Two can play at that.
“Pardon me, you seem to be lost.” I ignored the question entirely. “Who do you work for? Perhaps I can tell you where he might be at this hour.”
I had no patience for this nobility crap anymore, but I couldn’t just outright badmouth him. Insinuating that he wasn’t at a high enough status to have a proper title was the best I could do. Like an ingrown toenail, I was going to pain him until he tried to rip me off.
“I would remind you to use your common sense, given your heritage.” He spoke softly, but I could feel the venom in the words. “It takes far more than a coat and peons to get someone of your blood’s caliber any respect from those who have respect and peons monopolized. You are speaking to a noble of the upper crust in this city. I am Lord Timberpine.”
“A monopoly on respect?” I said sarcastically, ignoring him. “You know, I hadn’t considered that. That would certainly save me the time that some nobles constantly spend trying to drum up a facsimile of respect by bothering people they see on the street. Would you tell the lord who sent you that I appreciate the idea? Seeing as you are only with a coat and peons, your caliber doesn’t quite warrant the authority to approach me as an equal, so I’ll speak to the person in charge directly. You know what, don’t bother. Simply fetch him for me, and I can tell him myself. I wouldn’t want to overtax your abilities.”
“Do tell me, where are you from?” The snowy lord asked me, attempting to hide his complete displeasure. “Are all lords of your status expected to be so overflowing with respect for their betters, or is it just the ones of a certain lineage that believe themselves in a position for such manners?”
“Actually, they have several lessons on respect taught by my culture,” I replied. “These lessons are designed to show how much to give to those who deserve it, in exact measures. I assure you, I’ve given out all of the respect that it is wise to give when I meet someone like you. Based upon what I’ve seen of this city, I assume things like respect and dignity must be a rationed resource. I haven’t seen anyone who has any.”
“I see that a well-used tongue must be the symbol of power of your land, rather than the collection of str
ength and might,” the icy lord hissed through a smile. “Your rather flighty speech must cement your lordship in high standing amongst those with little holdings. I think you’ll find the trade value of such flippant use of words holds no value either. Unfortunately for you, respect is only reserved for those who belong to the proper circles and bloodlines. That must be an awful inconvenience for you.”
“That’ll be quite alright,” I answered in turn. I just had to keep pushing. I’d find something that hurt enough that he’d have no choice but to challenge me to save face. “I see that savage barbarism is the currency to trade with here. An interesting thing to base an economy on, as it always seems so debasing for those who dabble in it. You would think that such animalistic behaviors would be indicative of base lifeforms whose greatest achievements they could hope for would be the consistent consumption of their own dung. Despite that, I may find myself staying purely for the financial benefits since all of that consequently makes a lordship in this city so cheap and depreciated under the current regime.”
“I’m afraid I must point out that your culture’s lessons on value and respect must need tweaking.” Timberpine shifted in his seat with his hands and slipped into a more cockney accent as his fake posh one wavered. He was getting uncomfortable, cracking but not breaking. “These perceptions you seem to have are the correct measures of respect for you and your kind, and a proper demonstration of where exactly they belong in the social order. It’s a cursed company to find oneself in, but you might need to reconsider your stay in our humble city. Your presence may have an adverse effect upon the domestic values, and we’d hate to have to do something rash, but well within our rights.”
“Eh, I’m still considering the venue for a time,” I refuted. “It’s a shame that I’m at such a disadvantage, being fresh out of the debasement and pride so rife among these streets. I seem to have only brought my honor with me. I’ll learn to make do, I suppose.”