The horned wolf chief was at the head of a group of ten other wolves, and they all stood in a precise arrangement of two straight lines, which formed a barrier blocking entry into their encampment for me and the envoys.
But I got the impression it was mostly for me.
And the fact that he was so publicly disdaining me told me that my chances of a positive verdict from the council were likely slim to none.
It’s fine. I’ll just go to the council, hear their bullshit reasons for why I should be dead, and then turn the tables on them. Nobody would expect me to carry around a tiny army of beasts and voranders with me. Maybe I should scour the beast continent for more creatures to add to my collection? Yeah, what I’m planning might be no different than poaching, but the difference is that they started it by declaring me their enemy. Hell, this asshole doesn’t even know who I am!
Any further musing in my head was brought to a halt as the small group of wolves split into two columns, lining the main thoroughfare of the tribe. They stood straight, but they were relaxed as they did it, so it wasn’t overly respectful. The chief took a few steps towards me, before he stopped and motioned for me to approach with his index finger beckoning me forwards.
The envoys and I urged our mounts forward, maintaining a slow pace as we steadily drew closer to where the chief stood placidly.
We dismounted and bowed politely before him, the envoys included. I suppose a council member was higher up in the beastfolk hierarchy than a normal tribal chief, and hence, deserving of more respect?
Wait….are we literally bowing before authority here? Oh god, I even knelt to that dickwad, the king! Holy shit….I’ve been admitting my inferiority to everyone I’ve ever bowed to! How have I not realized that before now?! I mean, I rationalized it as something to do to avoid being killed offhand, but I never considered the implications…
The thought almost made me sick, but I refrained from reacting outwardly, maintaining my posture until I heard a deep and gruff voice say, “Rise.” Every one of us rose at the chief’s words, noticing that his arms were uncrossed and held behind his back, his elbows sticking out at an odd angle.
He approached the envoys first, sending them all inside after a short conversation, the mounts following in their wake obediently. Then he came to me.
The horned wolf tribe’s chief stood at least a foot taller than me, so I had to crane my neck upwards just to see his face. His fur, along with the rest of his tribe’s, was mostly green, with gold and grey showing through in certain spots. From our positions so near each other, less than a foot separating us, he absolutely radiated danger. It wasn’t magical, or even physical.
It was instinctual. On some level, the lizard brain part of my cerebellum or prefrontal cortex or whatever had recognized this being as a superior predator. He gave off a sensation of being watched by a predator, and my fight or flight response was triggered. Naturally, I couldn’t make either of those moves, but it was hard to fight my body’s natural response mechanisms.
So I went with the option that most people didn’t know about.
I froze.
I just kept eye contact with him, not daring to look away or lower my gaze. If I did, he would see it as a sign of weakness, and pounce on me like a juicy steak ready to be devoured and –
“Alright, boy, you can relax now,” he said with amusement.
The feeling of palpable danger dissipated, and the horned wolf chief seemed just like any other beastfolk that didn’t have a predator aura. My breath, which I had subconsciously been holding, released, and I breathed normally. My fists unclenched and my legs threatened to turn to jelly. I hadn’t realized how much of an effect…his action…would have on me.
“We can talk out here, if you prefer, but I imagine you’re tired and hungry from your travels, and we can talk just as easily over a bowl of something warm,” he said.
I clasped my hands together without bowing, and lowered my head the minimum amount that I felt I could get away with, without causing him to feel I was showing disrespect.
He shook his head before patting my shoulder. “Let’s go, human pup. I think you’ll like what I have to say.”
I would like what he had to say?
The pieces clicked together as the little hamster wheel spun in my mind, connecting the dots and sparking a faint ember of something.
They thought I was innocent.
That was the only conclusion I could draw from the information at hand.
The barrier of wolves preventing me from entering…was actually a honor guard, or an approximation.
The chief meeting me at the entrance personally….wasn’t a public statement that I was unwelcome, but something else, perhaps an attempt to observe me under pressure, if his danger aura trick was any indication?
And the fact that he was speaking to me informally….I could just be reading into his words, but if I were deemed innocent, I would be given a status equivalent to a diplomat. Something like diplomatic immunity for all my actions would be granted, and I would be treated with respect and warmth no matter which tribe I visited.
It was possible I would be treated like a genuine beastfolk.
That was an outcome I was looking forward to. The lizard tribe, not to mention the envoys, were polite and respectful with me most of the time, save for the occasional teasing. But there was always a…distance between me and them, that wasn’t present when beastfolk interacted with each other.
If I was being honest…I longed for that sense of acceptance and community.
For a home.
At the end of the day, I never wanted to be burdened with power or responsibility. My biggest dream was retiring early, living a simple life with a wife and kids in the suburbs, and just generally not having to worry about anything too major.
With a fair bit of difficulty, I brushed aside lingering thoughts about my once-dream, and tried to lower my expectations, in anticipation of what the chief would tell me. Perhaps it was true that he had something good to say to me, but it didn’t necessarily have to be about the trial. Maybe the king had died, or maybe they had found Khime’s washed up body on the shore with a note on which afterlife he was in so I could slap him whenever I wanted for all eternity.
Maybe I was about to marry a beastfolk princess, in hopes of bridging the fraying relationship between humans and beastkin? I wasn’t a furry, so I wasn’t sure that would qualify as good news, though.
I followed behind the chief, the wolves who were assembled in lines at the entrance nodding to me or clapping my back or shoulders as I passed them. There was one who was about my height, which made me assume it was a female, that pressed her snout onto my cheek and licked me, before running off in a different direction.
I was stunned for a moment, and was just glad that my first kiss happened with a human, and not some beastkin who happened to be faster than me.
The tribe was friendly to me as I passed through their tents, offering nods or waves or a bark, in one child’s case. It was a marked improvement over how I had been treated at the lizard tribe before I healed everyone. I returned the nods and waves as I gradually grew closer to the largest tent in the tribe, which had a flag atop it, of a horned wolf, again in profile.
I entered the tent, and was met with the sight of a much more furnished dwelling than the previous chief’s tent I had been in. The envoys were conspicuously absent, as was anyone else besides the chief. He sat while tending to a fire pit dug out from the ground, adding herbs and pleasant smelling ingredients to an oddly white-green kettle.
Oh damn, that…is that jade?
The oft-referenced substance was commonly viewed as one of the most beautiful natural materials in the world, rivaling gems and pearls and other shinies. I noticed that while the kettle was made of jade, so too were the pair of cups beside him. On his circular table carved out of wood, four clawed feet supporting it from the base, were documents stacked at least an inch high. Next to them were wrapped sticks of charcoal, a precursor to the pencil, that he used as a writing implement.
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The ground was covered in soft furs, though of a different color than his tribe’s, implying they were valuable or difficult to acquire somehow. In fact, nearly everything in this room spoke to the owner’s high status. Being one of the members of the council must have landed him some decent perks.
He motioned for me to sit across from him as I entered the room, so I did as requested and crossed my legs, sitting comfortably on the padded ground as the chief kept his focus on the jade kettle. Finally, once he felt it was appropriately warm, the chief removed it from its place above the fire with his bare hands, without giving any consideration to the possibility of being burned.
Two cups of tea were poured, one for each of us, as he handed me one of them. A sweet-smelling, borderline intoxicating scent emanated from it as I held the uniformly warm cup in my hands.
Neither of us made a move to drink yet, and we both knew why.
There was a beastfolk custom that when ate or drank privately with a tribal chief, the visitor would offer a polite salute, wishing the chief something along the lines of good fortune, or may you live a long life, or may the Mother smile on you, another way of saying good luck.
I wasn’t saying anything out of pettiness and perhaps resentment at the general way I had been treated thus far.
The chief wasn’t saying anything as he didn’t need to, and probably to gauge whether I was aware of the custom about what to do or not, and he would likely solidify his opinion of me based on my next action.
I could argue that the beastfolk had brought me nothing but trouble, and while it was rude of me to not offer what was effectively a clink of our glasses and a polite, “Cheers!”, it was equally rude for the beastfolk to essentially kidnap me and judge me by their laws and customs, with the possibility of death being on the table.
Of course, that argument would just devolve into a shouting match between who felt slighted more, and whose honor had been more besmirched, and who had the bigger dick…it would lead to nothing productive and would only be a giant headache for all parties.
Now, that being said, I still didn’t want to bow my head to someone who claimed to have authority over me.
But I could bow in respect of the man’s strength, as he had earned it and come by it honestly.
I lifted the cup in front of me and said, “May the tribe never know what it means to be weak,” inclining my head as I did so.
He lifted his brow before his cup followed suit, as he intoned in his deep, rich voice, “May the Mother grant you mercy,” before taking a sip from his cup.
I mimicked him as I lifted the cup to my lips, imbibing the tea that tasted just as sweet as it smelled. For a moment, all was right with the world, as I lost myself in the pleasant aftertaste of mint.
Then reality reared its ugly head once more, as the chief introduced himself.
“Torr of Clan Veek, Chief of the Silver Horned Wolf tribe, greets the human mage Rhaaj,” he said.
I replied with my own greeting, not surprised at all that he knew about me. “This one greets the chief, and thanks him for offering shelter to a guest.”
A few moments of silence passed as we drank from our cups…until the chief broke it with his words.
“You are a child, in more ways than one,” the chief said with a smile on his face.
“And yet, that reason is a poor defense against claims of besmirched honor, the cause of which I was wholly ignorant of,” I retorted, the peace granted by the tea completely gone.
“Perhaps,” he said, the small smile still on his face. “Regardless of the circumstances, none of that is relevant anymore.”
His smile melted as he assumed a more serious tone. “I can inform you now that the council has found you innocent of any intentional or malicious wrongdoing on your part, and is willing to make amends for dragging you from your home, by sending you back if you wish, or offering reparations if you choose to stay.”
That was something else I had been suspicious of. After all the trouble of getting me here, the council was just…letting me go? There had to be more to it than that.
I voiced my doubt to the chief. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I must know. Why?”
He considered me for a few seconds before replying. “Did you know that there are dragons still living to this day?”
Dragons?
“What do dragons have to do with anything?” I asked, puzzled.
“There are pale imitations of dragons scattered throughout the world, sea serpents and land wyrms, flying snakes and feathered lizards. But none of them were alive when the world was born, when the Mother granted life to the tiniest denizens of the land and sea. None of them were alive when the Ancestors sealed the vile fiends within the northern lands.”
“And none of them have enough influence to order the council to declare you innocent.”
So, I get the sense these aren’t your typical dragons. But what’s important is that the dragons either know I’m innocent….no, that’s not the case. Knowing my luck, the dragons want me to do something for them, and I can’t do that if I’m dead. So, they told the council to let me off the hook. But the question remains…
“But…why would the dragons…vouch for me? I’ve never met one, and I don’t know any of them,” I said, unsure if he even had an answer.
Chief Torr sighed as he said, “The dragons rarely get involved in worldly matters, like this mess. They concern themselves with protecting the world, rather than the individuals in it, and they are a mystery to most, even to the council.”
“What about the Beast King?” I asked.
“Him,” the chief turned his head and waved his hand dismissively. “Anyone who sits on that throne is burdened for the rest of their years, and sadly, that burden does not include conversing with elder dragons.”
“So, you’re telling me that the council no longer wants me, and I’m free to do as I like?” I confirmed.
“Within reason,” the chief replied, taking up a no-nonsense type of tone.
“So…what now?” I asked. My recent days had been fully consumed by the thoughts of this upcoming trial and the resultant verdict. I would either be hailed as a true friend to the beastfolk for the rest of my life, or I would be deemed an honorless cur who spat on tradition and deserved to be executed.
There was a very, very, small part of me that wanted them to try and kill me, just so I could flip the script on them and see how they liked it. Granted, I knew that would effectively be declaring war on the entire continent, or perhaps even the world, but…there was always a feeling of ‘why not’.
Which is why I quashed that belligerent part of me whenever it popped up, as I wasn’t particularly fond of being cited in history books as the mad human who wrongfully slaughtered innocents while pursuing a non-existent sense of vengeance.
Now that there was no reason for me to be here, I felt like I had no purpose.
“Now?” the chief let out a barking laugh. “Now the dragons have their eyes on you, boy. I’d wager they’ve been watching you longer than you know, if they declared you innocent. If you feel like wasting the rest of your life fruitlessly, you might attempt to meet with the dragons yourself and ask them why they intervened. I understand you’re a healer, as well?” I nodded to his question.
“Perhaps you might travel the land, offering to heal the tribes you stay with. Perhaps you can use your magic to create things we beastkin haven’t thought of yet. Now, you get to choose what you do. And yet…you still seek direction. As I said…” he shook his head and sighed, “A child.”
I nodded again and again in response to his statement as I withdrew into my mind. He was right, in a way. I could fake being a mature and respectable, hard-working and contributing member of society. If I really pushed myself, I could even be one some days. But I yearned for a life free of responsibility, so much so that I had crafted my life, and the one before it, around being self-sustaining. Knowing how to heal meant no more expensive trips to a doctor who would just write me a prescription for a pill and charge hundreds of dollars for it.
Being skilled in combat meant I could take care of myself if I ever fell into a dangerous situation. It was lucky, really, that I had a nature affinity, as that let me tap into all kinds of magic that I could use to make my quality of life just a bit easier, once I found someplace to settle down.
I didn’t think that would be here, though. From the little I had seen of the beastfolk continent, it didn’t seem like somewhere I’d want to live long-term. Not to mention the lack of suitable mates. Elves, though…there was potential there. I had very limited knowledge of the elven continent, save for Teacher Passen and the few descriptions that described the various types of terrain. Maybe somewhere in the elven continent would be ideal for me? The beastkin, despite how much they attempted to emulate the elves’ way of living, had an almost…xenophobic attitude.
However, any thoughts of leaving for the elven homeland would have to be put on hold for a while. My original desire, before I got caught up in all this council nonsense, was to travel and see the world. Why would I intentionally miss out on the continent with the most diverse group of animals?
“I do believe I know where I’m headed next,” I said confidently.
“Oh?” the chief replied, sharpening his claws by rubbing them against each other. “Well, I wish you safe travels then. I would see you off, but my time is scarce, and today happens to be an exceptionally busy day.”
I suppressed the roll my eyes wanted to do, simply nodding at the blatant lie. “Of course. Then I beg the chief for his pardon, as I find myself suddenly in need of supplies for a long journey.” I got up and made a minor bow before exiting the tent without being dismissed, another act of impropriety from a beastfolk point of view.
It was more annoying than anything that the main currency of the beastfolk were favors and trades. If I wanted food, water, clothing, or anything else, I would have to leverage my healing skills to obtain what I needed.
I wasn’t lying, though. I did need supplies if I wanted to check out the vast desert that dominated nearly the entire southern half of the continent.