She came outside of the military camp, locating her pack with a smell rather than finding any arranged place. They stood before her, hundreds of Wolfkins under her command, assembled and waiting for her word. Janine walked into their midst, not demanding any discipline for once. A burning shame fired anew in her chest, fumed with anger at her own ineptitude to bring about the glory that her pack so richly deserved.
“When I brought Terrific low, I swore to become a worthy Warlord. When I saw your performance in battle under my leadership, my heart sang in joy, propelling me to greater heights. When I was given an honorary name by Alpha herself, I thought I had finally become the woman that I always wanted to be. Bull-Slayer, she dubbed me!” Janine said loudly, lifting her weapon to the skies, hearing the cheerful howls. Looking around, she started listing her crimes, not trying to weasel out of the responsibility. “I was challenged by Bertruda of the Ice Fang order. And I lost the battle, losing my hard-earned honorable name in the process.” She let the weapon fall, spreading her arms to accept the pack’s judgement. “My shame is our shame! My weakness is our weakness! Won’t someone rid the pack of this disgrace?! Don’t you feel rage and anger boiling down in your very veins at the sign of the weakness that I have brought upon you all?! Come at me and tear me apart for the crime of losing honor.”
None came at first. She tasted the hesitation of her soldiers, mixed with confusion as to why she should be the target of their wrath. Fur on the back of their necks rose, and a growl of anger left hundreds of throats as all their being demanded a righteous retribution. The honorary name has been taken away from their Warlord! The order claimed a win over them! Janine felt the hatred borne in their hearts. Retribution!
The first to act was Impatient One, who charged at Janine from behind while aiming her claws at the wound Ravager had left on Janine’s head. The warlord met her attack with an elbow, sending the shaman into the ring of her warriors, where she stood up, bowing her head in acceptance of Janine’s superiority.
“Weak.” Janine smiled, whirling around to smack aside Anissa, sending her like a cannon ball through the ranks. “Tear me asunder and reclaim the lost honor! Bathe me in blood to make me repent for bringing shame to Terrific’s name! Pop my eyes and rip out my lying tongue that promised a victory! Color the ground with the blood of a liar! Rip my weakness asunder! Take away my ribs, one by one, so we all could feel a succor through my agony!”
They came at her, a wave of black-furred bodies swarming Janine from all sides. The warlord never moved from the place, sending her own soldiers back with large swings, never once bringing her paws or claws on them, using only her forearms to send them back. The shame was hers, and thus only she should suffer. A Warlord was someone who rose to the very top of her pack through force; should she fall against the blasted cousins, she is to prove her right to leadership anew through strength alone. The traditions demanded it. A slight against a warlord is a slight against all, and if a warlord allows it, she must pay the price. Janine endured gashes and slashes, carefully shielding her wounded spots as she tore away the Wolfkins who gnawed at her neck. Still, she resisted the urge to use the full power of her blows, only pushing back rather than hurting. When you are in charge, everything is your fault, and blood is the least price one can pay for her mistakes.
It has ended just as suddenly as it began, almost the entire pack lowering their knees and releasing a howl of pain and sorrow meant to show that they share the misery with their Warlord and accept her just like before. Shame and longing were present in this howl. Shame about the defeat. Longing about yesterday, the day when they could still walk among their kin as equals. But among all these sounds, something else was breaking through. A support. A Warlord was responsible for her pack, but a pack was also responsible for a Warlord. They all failed each other.
“This is how it is,” Janine roared to them, taking in their desperation and transforming it into words. “We are weak. Honorless. The white-furred threw us onto dust and walked all over us, and this is! Only! My! Fault! Not theirs! Not yours! But honor lost is merely honor waiting to be regained! An honorable name means nothing, if it is not backed up with deeds! Through your dedication, we will reclaim our lost honor! On my life, I swear to earn another honorable name and give it to the pack in Terrific’s memory! On my body and soul, I swear to become a leader worthy of your sacrifices and dedication!”
The pack members leaped to their feet, fired up by their leader’s words and eager to work even harder to go above and beyond their duties and prove to their cousins that they are the best state servants out there. Misery turned into ambition.
“There will be no honorable duels or retribution against our cousins,” Janine warned them, raising her axe in silent threat. “Oh no, kin of mine, we won’t walk an easy road. We will not steal what was rightfully taken. The easy way is not for the Wolf Tribe! We prove by our actions that we deserve new glory! A new honor! Save the ones who can’t protect themselves! Devour those who prey on the meek and shy! Guard the state and usher in a new and better age for all of humanity! For the Blessed Mother and Dynast!”
“For the state and our tribe!” The pack roared back.
“Dismissed. Anyone who will be seen attacking an ice boy will have her or his skin taken by me.” The disappointment of her soldiers was almost palpable. Doubtless, some planned a few ritual matches today. Janine smiled at them, warmly addressing them as a comrade rather than a leader. “Duty is eternal, and thus we have innumerable chances to regain what was lost. Have a rest, my kin. The night was hard, yet the weight of our responsibilities only makes us stronger still.”
Leaving the field, Janine saw Bertruda Mountaintop and Camelia Wintersong waiting for her at the main entrance to the camp. Seeing that Janine’s pack had ended their ritual, the two moved to them. A row of soldiers stood in their path, catching on to the mood of their warlord, as Janine herself retreated, returning to the camp through another entrance. The Ice Fang order had cost her enough. She wished she had nothing to do with them anymore, aside from working with them in the battles to come.
*****
“Lady Bertruda insists on meeting with you,” Marco announced, stepping into Janine’s tent.
Janine put aside the terminal, releasing a slow breath. Her wounds had long since healed, but the damned medics cornered her upon her return to the camp and forced the high command to give her a full five-day leave to recover. Her! As if she was a cub! And now she had soldiers from MP stationed at her tent, escorting her everywhere, including to feasting or taking a leak. Janine was infuriated. She checked up on Marty to cheer her up and ended up giving her a little talk that ended up being way more awkward because of these MP bastards. She wanted to allow Alpha to punish her for the failure that she had brought to the tribe, and she wanted to confess her fears to Lacerated One. But with her ‘nannies’ around, it was impossible.
Instead, here she was, stuck in her own tent. She tore off the bandages from her body, only for the MPs to report it to the medics, who came again and bandaged her head, recommending that Janine stop acting like a child. Oh, how she wanted to tear their guts out for this insolence. But no, she reigned her in, remembering that every citizen serves the state in their own, even often misguided, way.
“Well, she can fuck right off or stay and wait until a new dawn for all I care,” Janine said calmly, making a note where she stopped reading the reports about faulty gear.
Chak wasn’t lying; the pack was on its last legs in terms of gear. Alpha’s Pack, Predaig’s Pack, and Dragena’s Pack, as the most pristine and esteemed of all packs, have been receiving the resupplies ahead of others, and even they have started struggling. Alas, there wasn’t much she could do here. What she could do was visit every wounded member of her pack and write letters to the families of the dead, one final courtesy to remember their sacrifices. After apologizing for the mistake that she had committed years ago, Janine prepared training plans with Anissa’s and Impatient One’s help, contemplating the lack of resources to stage proper war games. Her pack performed admirably, but unless new duties were piled on them, the Wolfkins, be they male or female, liked to mess around.
In a sense, Chak’s wish came true. The Army had stopped camping in front of the capital for two days straight, allowing for the safe evacuation and treatment of wounded. Till Ingo has personally arrived in his strange floating ship, taking in the horribly maimed victims and the data cores. A few Iternians showed up, people from some news agency. Like parasites, they started crawling around the city and interviewing soldiers. Ravager herself was nowhere to be seen, disappearing in the darkness after her talk with First. Although some said that Ravager was occasionally seen at the top of the communicator tower, sleeping on the ruined throne.
“Thanks, Marco,” Janine took the reports off his paws and read them briefly. Ignacy’s operation was a success; the new limb works exactly like it should. Elzada pushed through her wound. As expected of her soldiers. Food supplies were dwindling. Janine frowned and quickly assigned one of her packs to hunting duty. Plenty of insectoids in the nearby mountains. No need to rob the locals. “Wait.” She stopped her son before he could sneak out. “Sit with me.”
Janine reached out in her sack with things, finding a chocolate bar that she bought from Chak and threw it to Marco to lighten up the mood. Chocolate was somewhat of a new rediscovery from the Old World. It never really disappeared in Iterna, but both the Reclaimers and Oathtakers had their own share of problems before restoring ancient treats. But by the Spirits, the happy look on Marco’s snout as he closed his fangs on the chocolate bar was well worth it. Ravager is right. The Old World may have destroyed itself, but its wonders must be rediscovered, and the remains of its culture and history must be preserved for them to build a foundation for a better tomorrow.
No longer did the Reclaimers have to ration food, keeping half of their population living off of nutrient paste or mushrooms. According to the news, entire farmlands were created, filled with thousands upon thousands of cusacks, providing the state with milk and meat. Black earth was created, providing an abundance of bread and vegetables to the people. And if the news were to be believed, this was only the beginning. With more and more jobs opening up each day, the state has truly started to transform into something magnificent.
“How are things between you and your sisters? Everything is okay? No one is hurting you?” Janine inquired, unsure how to ask him properly.
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“Better than okay!” Marco replied, chomping on the treat. “Impatient One showed me how to make a noose to haul crates. Bogdan taught me how to clean armor with sand. Anissa taught me how to assemble a shardgun. And no girl has kicked me in the past few days! The army is amazing, mom! Way better than the pit!”
“If only.” Janine smiled sadly, remembering friends and comrades lost to war. “No, Marco, an army usually means a war at some point. And wars are nothing but mindless pain, hate, rage, and death.”
“Why are we fighting, then? Can’t we live in our villages?” His ears perked up.
“To liberate those who can’t save themselves,” Janine said, leaning back in her chair. “I remember my first mission well. It was a simple mop-up operation; a group of slavers took over a settlement near our border. We sneaked to its edge, seeing how a group of people demanded freedom for their children. A shot in the knee was their answer, and then the leader of the slavers gave the command to string the wounded man for everyone to see what happens to those who incur her wrath. We struck at this very moment.” Janine closed her eyes, remembering the first time she felt and overcame pure rage. “We lost a brother and a sister on this night, and by the end of it, I tore the pleading slaver in two, feasting on her remains. The liberated settlement was well outside our borders. Had we not attacked, our kin would still be alive, Marco.”
“But the settlers would suffer.” He nodded, understanding what she meant.
“It’s more than this.” She released a claw, making a circle in the air. “One of these saved settlers also later founded the largest medical clinic in the entire Reclamation Army at the time. The medics, who are responsible for saving our lives, studied in this very clinic. And had we left the slavers alone, they would’ve come to our lands eventually. So you see. What goes around comes around. Our sacrifices are not in vain.”
“Got it.” The cub nodded eagerly. “Kill the bad people. Save the good ones.”
“Wrong again!” Janine laughed, reaching across the table to grab Marco under his armpits and sit him on her legs, just like back when he was a cub. “Marco, the world is not black and white. Children who grew up under malformed’s rule… Are they good or bad?”
“Bad.” Marco nodded seriously. “They eat people. Living people. They kill the helpless. Evil as it gets.”
“And yet, Chak...” Whom your sister is probably fucking right now. Janine wanted to say and only smiled, understanding just how much this bothers her. She had always considered herself to be pretty open-minded, yet here she was, grumbling to herself like a shaman. “...came to us from their ranks, and the chocolate you ate came from his shop. His handling of logistics has provided us with working power armor, saving the lives of our kin. Marco, you need to understand why we, despite our wild nature, obey the military laws and accept prisoners. Children who grew up in the dark never saw light. Are we really that much better than them to sentence them to extinction just because they had the unfortunate fate of being born to some real mad scum? No. I’ll kill anyone who steps up to me, true, but at the same time, you never know how much a little mercy can fix in the long run.”
“So keep the good people safe, strike down evil wherever you can, and show mercy when possible,” Marco said.
“Not when possible. When the laws require it, when it does not go against the mission, and when it is reasonable,” Janine corrected him, allowing an amber flame to burst anew in her eyes. “What is the point of showing mercy to a slaver, a serial killer, or an equally mad bitch? Trial, execution… Such a waste of everyone’s time.”
“Correct, Warlord. We are monsters and nothing more. Mercy is not ours to give, but we may as well try. For a monster conquers all in its path, its own nature included.” A pleasant voice spoke behind her, and Janine froze for a second, stupefied at the fact that someone had sneaked upon her in her very tent.
She saw long, elongated fingers moving forth from the corners of her field of vision, threatening to encompass her like spider legs. For a moment, Janine had the thought that Terrific was actually alive and that the woman had come to carry on her vengeance and bring down Janine for being an unworthy heir. Why else would her vision appear recently, messing up Janine’s focus? But when a tent became lit with unnatural light, Janine breathed a sigh of relief. She turned around, covering Marco with her arms and looking into Ravager’s face.
“Blessed Mother,” she and Marco said in unison, admitting her superiority. Janine had put one paw over Marco’s mouth to keep him safe from this terror and asked, “Why are you here?”
“First told me something interesting, Janine.” Ravager leaned closer, sniffing them, her eyes almost bigger than Marco’s entire body. And she still grew! Everyone saw it, after killing the Techno-Queen Ravager, she had become a tiny bit taller. What her peak even was, Janine had trouble imagining. “You held back against the Sword Saint. Willingly. My anger toward you… was misplaced. And for this, I wish to offer recompense.”
“Do you think me weak?” Janine growled, jumping off the chair and hiding Marco behind herself. “Blessed Mother or not, I will not stand this humiliation! I am Janine! The one who became a Warlord through her own rage and strength! I have no need for power from you! I will never, ever become a skinwalker!”
She expected to be struck down this instant. In her dreams, Janine has fantasized about how a gigantic claw is coming from one of the Blessed Mother’s fingers and cleaving her from head to waist, leaving two halves of her body struggling to keep a life before succumbing to the cold embrace of death, and then Ravager’s jaws would come down, eating her remains…
The Blessed Mother laughed, shattering the illusion. It was not a mad laugh, and neither was this a mockery. Ravager sounded like a lady from high society who just heard a wonderous joke from her cavalier.
“No, this path is not for you, Warlord. I remember you now, Janine,” Ravager’s eyes locked at her. “Thrice, you made the right choice in my presence. Once when you held back an urge to strike at the angel. The second time, you stopped my madness and saved lives. And finally, you showed enough wisdom to go easy on our future.” Ravager breathed out a cloud of steam into Janine’s face and moved her snout against Janine’s head, leaving a smelly scent mark. “Welcome to the inner circle, Warlord. Devourer will come in the morning, and we are to meet him. Are you free now?”
“I still need to examine my son’s knowledge,” Janine replied stubbornly, cursing that the commander had ruined a moment to speak with Marco heart-to-heart.
“Do so then; we have time aplenty.” Ravager pushed herself to the side of the tent, nearly filling it with her body.
Janine had quite a number of things in her tent, including a leather jacket left by Terrific, now serving as a relic to remind her of her former Warlord. A chest filled with glasses, a souvenir presented to her by the National Museum for rescuing precious artifacts from the raiders. Janine had no real use for them and was afraid of breaking the nice looking things. So she never drank from them, only occasionally taking them out to polish, training her fingers to be gentle with things. Aside from that, there was a harness with her armor, a weapon rack, her other trophies, and her personal belongings. Ravager, in theory, should’ve smashed them all with her bulk. Yet somehow, almost unnaturally, the woman fit in the tent, taking just enough space without ruining everything or sending Janine and Marco flying.
Her amber eyes kept looking at the mother and her cub as Janine started asking Marco’s question about the tribe’s history, teaching him what she knew about the foundation of the state. Outside of the pits, the job of educating her son had fallen to her, and Janine will be damned if she allows Ravager to stop her from doing her duty.
Ravager only looked, never saying a thing. Her heartbeat sounded like a drum, beating slowly but steadily, causing Janine to wonder how the Blessed Mother could sneak up on anyone with this bombastic sound in her chest. The breath coming from her mouth resembled the heat from a furnace, reminding Janine of the pleasant desert around their village.
“You have a question!” Ravager snapped, catching Marco’s glance. “Ask away already. The smell of your curiosity and fear is infuriating, boy. Youth should not hold back curiosity; remember it once and for all.”
“Sorry.” Marco tried to bow, but a tap of a gigantic finger made the tent tremble, prompting the MP to step inside. Ravager ignored them, looking at the cub and demanding an answer. “Your fur,” Marco has finally found the courage to ask. “Is it true that it can bisect an arm?”
Ravager blinked, and all aggression was washed away from her eyes. What came to her eyes instead looked like cheeky fun. Ravager extended her arm toward Marco.
“Touch it, cub,” she commanded, and Marco obeyed, first pressing one finger and then his full palm.
“Soft. Like silk,” he whispered in surprise, and Ravager laughed, filling Janine’s heart with relief.
“Sharp fur! Divine heir! Blessed Mother!” Ravager shook her head, putting it back on her paws. “Seriously, who spread these rumors about me? No, cub. I am neither divine, nor a mother, and certainly not a hedgehog. I am Ravager, a monster, and nothing more.”
“Then let me talk with my son in peace,” Janine barked, waving the MP away. She put aside the terminal, ending the lesson.
She remembered the look on Marty’s face when she had to kill her daughter. Janine remembered her own beautiful girls and boys, holding their stillborn bodies in her paws or coming to pits just to find them dead. Death in battle, death from malfunction, death from rivalry, death during a domination, death from old age, death from culling… death, death, death. She got fed up with death.
“Marco. Are your knees still hurting?” Janine asked her son.
“Huh? No! Well, they bother me a little, but I am on my legs all day!” Marco jumped off the chair, doing a few squats to show her that he was okay. But she saw. A minor tremble when his knees bent. Just a minor flaw, but it was there. All because she couldn’t bear him in peace like a proper mother.
“Marco,” Janine forced herself to sound kind and warm, unwilling to scare her son. “How would you like to become an exile?”
“Mom? Warlord?” Marco stumbled, fiddling with his beret in his paws. “Have I done something bad? If so I fix it! Please don’t throw me out, I’ll…”
“I will never throw you out, Marco. You are now and forever my son.” I love you. She wanted to say it but stopped herself. No sign of weakness in front of family. She is a mountain, existing to protect the tribe from raging winds, and a mountain has no emotional weakness. “I wasn’t a perfect mother. I hadn’t given you enough vitality; I could not give you sisters to keep you safe in the pits…”
“But you took me out there! You saved me, mom!” She stopped Marco’s outburst with a raised paw.
“But I can give you a life worth living,” Janine continued as if nothing had happened. “Marco, Dad and I had been saving some tokens. I’m not exactly poor, you know. I can ask for help and buy you a house in the Core Lands. You can go into an actual school and live a normal, peaceful life, a life that was promised to us by the Dynast.” She saw a hesitation in his eyes and quickly continued. “And you won’t be alone! In our day and age, the Net has been expanded greatly. Each time you want, you could contact us anytime, well, aside from times when we are in battle.”
“And leave you fight for my safety alone?” He asked bluntly.
“Marco. You’ll die here. Your brothers will die. Your sisters will die. A day will come and I myself will die in some ditch, forgotten and alone.” Janine tried to reason with him, to scare him. “There is no noble demise in battle. All the songs, all the legends being told by the shamans? They are about the dead kin who never had peace in their lives. And death is almost always ugly and painful on the battlefield, or instant if you are lucky. In the Core Lands, you can start a family and become happy, actually happy. Just imagine seeing your own kids around and having no fear of seeing them dead before you!”
“But this will mean leaving you here alone,” Marco said sadly. He shook his head and looked at her with a newfound determination in his amber eyes. “No, mother. I am a Wolfkin! It is our duty to serve as shields for the meek. I may be weak and frail, but I will never leave you and my kin here all alone.”
“Right choice, Cubbie,” Ravager chuckled, flashing her eyes. “Monsters belong with monsters.”
Would it kill you to shut up? An urge to grab her axe and bury it between these enormous eyes followed a flash of hatred for the Blessed Mother. She restrained her emotions, standing up and putting on the military coat. Ravager was not at fault here. It was Janine who failed to persuade her little boy to choose a happier path in life.
“Should you ever change your mind, Marco, the offer is always here for as long as I live. For now, go and have a nap. Lead on, Blessed Mother, and I will follow.”