“Yes, teacher!” Anji lifted the happy Marco and placed him on her shoulder. “The Reclamation Army comprises three major regions. The Inner Lands, where the capital of the glorious Dynast is located.” Janine wanted to groan as Impatient One was taking notes. How? How does she not know this? “This place was once a gigantic armory, containing an impressive arsenal from the Old World. When the Dynast found it, he made it our capital, where the weak and oppressed were brought to safety. At first, clouds of smoke covered the place, and the citizens toiled restlessly, building the foundation of our glorious state! The power armor worn by the shamans came from its vast foundries.
“But after decades, and with the help of Iterna, we have discovered how to improve our industry in such a way that does not pollute the surroundings. Today, the Inner Lands are a sanctuary; living carpets of flowers and trees cover their rolling hills and plains, gentle rains fall from the skies, and civilian boats glide lazily across vast rivers.”
“Water. Yack.” Anissa shook her head, expressing everyone’s opinion about the annoying wet substance. The Wolf Tribe could swim in quicksand and endure toxic fumes and radiation. But on some almost instinctive level, they were wary of water. You should drink it, not swim in it! Only Anji seemed unfazed by the revelation. Janine tapped on a crate, returning everyone’s attention.
“There is also the Arena!” Marco spoke quickly, worried about losing the audience’s attention. “A place where the Dynast’s champions, Outsider, the Blessed Mother, and Devourer, compete in the Trial of Strength. The Inner Lands are responsible for solving our nation’s major administrative problems. Exotic weapons too terrible to ever be used, are stored inside the capital’s walls. Next are the Core Lands. These are the lands where most of the population lives. They are free of most dangers, and green has returned to the land. There are several cities, huge economic centers that supply our armies. Mighty walls surround the Core Lands. The walls moved each time the region expands… And uhhh….”
“The place is really cool,” Janine helped him. “Whereas a normal person can get a sunstroke in our villages, there is little to no danger of such a thing in the Core Lands. I recommend warm clothes, everyone.”
“Yes, I already… I mean.” Marco inhaled. “His excellency Devourer rules the Core Lands. Then there are the Outer Lands. We use this term to describe recently conquered regions and places where terraforming back to habitable conditions has not yet begun.”
“So, like… We are in the Outer Lands, right?” Kalaisa asked. “If Devourer rules the Core Lands, does it mean that the Blessed Mother rules these lands?”
“Look, everyone, she is learning,” Anji beamed, showing a tongue to the snarling Kalaisa. “Now, don’t wrinkle your snout, dear; when you’re not being an asshole, you look adorable. Smile more and be a good girl, and you’ll feel great.”
“Shut it, Bootlicker,” Kalaisa cursed.
“Whore,” Anji retorted.
“You are correct, Sister Kalaisa.” Marco nodded, trying to remain calm in the wake of the two women’s aggression. “We are in the Outer Lands. However, the Blessed Mother has declined the right to rule this region, giving it instead to the Provincial Government, an assembly of mayors from the largest settlements around here. They vote on the various small-impact policies in the region, such as tax reductions and the relocation of people from dangerous areas.”
“Wait a second.” Elzada accidentally scratched behind Ignacy’s ear. “Does it mean that only the Normies get to say what will change in the region? What about us?”
“Yeah, no fair!” Ignacy nodded.
“We stand outside of the normal government’s structure and live by our own rules,” Impatient One explained. “Our rights to cull our elderly, mercy kill our infirm cubs, and use physical violence against each other… The Normies have no right to any of that. They are trying to nurse their cubs to health and can potentially live long enough for their hearts to stop beating on their own.”
“Barbarians. It is cruel to make a broken cub suffer this world,” Anji said.
“Yes, just let the poor soul be reborn and live happily in a healthy body.” Bogdan supported her.
“I am not sure. In this day and age, prosthetics can do wonders,” Ignacy said, showing his metal arm. “Just look at it…”
“Yes, yes, we are very impressed with your new limb, brother.” Anissa hugged him and kissed his forehead. “However, some of us have assisted mothers in giving lives. Trust me, when you see a little body gasping and struggling for air, yet unable to live because tiny, underdeveloped lungs are unable to handle the oxygen, the immune system is failing, and the agony spreads like a wave because the skin cannot withstand the heat... You will do the right thing,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Marco. I will take it from here.” Janine nodded to her son and sat on a crate. “Marco and Impatient One are not entirely correct. The Blessed Mother is the Third Army’s leader; she is the de facto leader of these lands. In her absence, it is the noble Wyrm Lord who solves the most complex issues. Now about Houstad. Houstad City, or simply Houstad, as the locals first call it, was founded ninety-eight years ago by His Excellency Devourer. Back then, the place was a hub of slavers and flesh traders. They grew humans, often forcing them to mate by force, and sold the children to the Malformed and the Blood Court in exchange for resources and favors. After a month of preparation, and with the help of the rebels led by the Oakster family and our packs, in a single night, Devourer put an end to it, staging riots across the place and eating its rulers. A long and grueling process of rebuilding and reeducation turned Houstad into a proper city.”
She paused, looking at the Wolfkins before her. “Times were hard then. The state needed armor and weapons, and it needs them right now. Devourer’s rule hardly looked any different from that of a common tyrant across the wastes. It was an improvement, mind you, but a very minuscule one. Smog has filled the streets, produced by countless factories. A lack of safety measures resulted in children trading their lives to cogs, crushed or sliced in the factories. People lost limbs; diseases ran rampant…”
Janine closed her eyes, remembering that time. She didn’t take pride in that time, but it was a reality, nonetheless. A sea of pale faces, toiling for a loaf of bread, producing weapons to force more people into this hell. Religious organizations provided but a barest succor, and mothers’ wailings filled the streets. It was hard to believe in the benevolence of the Reclamation Army. When you feed your cubs to machines in order to fuel conquest, how are you different from the wicked?
“The event known as the Coup changed it.” Janine smiled as ears flickered. “No, none betrayed the Dynast, not in spirit. The Blessed Mother admitted her fears of the Reclamation Army, slowly morphing into an ugly caricature of the empires of old, and the commander agreed. Together, they persuaded Outsider, and the three champions, mayors and high priests, beseeched the Dynast to stop wars against Iterna and the Oathtakers, to make peace, and to focus more on improving lives. Our ruler agreed, and trade flowed, bringing in superior technology from Iterna and fresh working hands from the Oathtakers’ lands. Houstad thrived, evolving into a hub of prosperity. New terraforming methods had cleared the skies of smog; the ground was flattened to create plains, and the soil was healed of toxic pollution to make way for vast farmlands. Till Ingo has established his company’s headquarters here, and they are currently researching methods to produce inexpensive prosthetics for everyone.”
Still smiling, the warlord rose. “The age of warlords and tyrants is officially over in the Reclamation Army. Sure, some tribes, like ours, are permitted to live by their own traditions, which gives us the right to end the lives of our kin, but even we would be hanged if we dared to harm a Normie. Slowly, more and more tribes are giving up their traditions or changing them, like the Orais did, and accepting the nation’s laws. It is the time of revival, and we will see the fruits of our labors and sacrifices. According to the latest census, the current population of Houstad…” she permitted herself a dramatic pause, “…is five hundred sixty-three thousand eight hundred citizens, not counting migrant workers.”
Their reaction fully met all of her expectations in terms of the shock they must have felt, as well as the shock she herself felt when she first learned this information.
“I’m… I mean, how could it be, warlord?” Bogdan licked his lips.
“Half a million people,” Impatient One whispered, barely audible. “This is… how are they managing the education… How are they feeding them?” she asked.
“You’re kidding, right, granny?” Janine ignored Kalaisa’s familiarity. The girl showed genuine curiosity. “There is no way this many people could live in one place. They… They’d stabbed each other for water or males!”
“It’s like a hive… A sentient swarm of people!” Anissa exclaimed, rubbing her nose and staring blindly ahead. She blinked twice, regaining attention. “How big is this city?”
“Houstad is the seventh-largest city in our nation.” This information unsettled them even further. Janine understood their uncertainty; the information she had learned from the news had shocked her far more than an artillery barrage ever could.
It wasn’t for nothing. Their deaths, losses of comrades, defeats and victories, their way of life… Vindication. Vindication for centuries of the Wolf Tribe’s hardships.
Technically, she visited Houstad twice, back when the Three Armies didn’t exist. Not the original city itself; no, the modern Houstad was a gigantic place. Janine was involved in fighting in a quarter that served as the city’s north-west district today. The Twins then commanded the packs, as Ravager distrusted her ability not to harm prisoners confined in cages. The Twins brilliantly predicted every weapon placement, and reports from Devourer’s agents gave them full information about the location of the slavers’ forces. It was a masterpiece of an operation, but what came next…
It was a place of horror. A meat market, as they called it, only instead of animals, the bastards served humans here. The stalls displayed freshly prepared hands and legs on hooked chains, ready for sale to the cannibals. Barrels filled with salted organs, a delicacy favored by the Malformed. Crimson drinks, flavored with spices—only this wasn’t alcohol, but blood so richly desired by the court.
Things… No, she corrected herself; people huddled in cages, so close that their swollen skin pushed through the bars. It wasn’t an accident; the slavers fed their captives a nutrient paste made from the remains of insects, animals, and even humans. This specially prepared nourishment disrupted the metabolism, and the poor souls rapidly gained weight, choking for every breath. Cannibals and Malformed could taste it by biting off the skin outside a cage before buying. Those kept for the court were healthier and cost more, as the Blood Court preferred beautiful, unspoiled young girls and boys to drain slowly, savoring every sip. Ugliness offended those freaks.
Stench of blood, sweet smell of decay, urine, and other waste permeated this place, and the Twins added the slavers’ horror to it. The enemies tried everything, from robots and gunfire to energy beams and rockets. Two titanic white forms easily weaved around incoming shots; a hit from a giant claymore bounced projectiles back, while arrows the size of a Wolfkin pierced holes in the machines, never once harming the slaves.
Janine had no idea how the Twins could be so serene, how they could accept surrenders and cleave only the fighters. She herself had torn a skin from the slaver’s torso when she saw humans on his stall, overfed to the point of becoming living balloons, their eyes gateways to sheer lands of madness. On that day, Janine had shown no mercy, surpassing even Terrific in her cruelty as she waded through the pools of blood, drowning herself in the bleating screams of the slavers. The Twins made her stop the massacre; the male himself embraced her, soothing her beating heart with his words, telling Janine she was better than this. Not could. Was.
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The Twins had a weird effect on those they touched or spoke to. Ravager instilled a sense of divine reverence, and her presence screamed of the inevitable divine retribution. Her words, no matter how unhinged, carried a weight of innate charisma, yet she felt like a rising star in the making; the Twins, the progenitors of the Ice Fang Order in comparison, were complete. They were someone who had reached enlightenment and now wanted to help you reach the same heights. Rather than instilling a sense of awe, they offered a promise of calm and stability, to the point where Terrific once admitted that their presence scared her. Because of what their presence implied. The promise of change, the promise that there was a way back from barbarism, that all was not lost, troubled Terrific. Ravager even assumed them to be her parents in their first meeting, only to be gently disabused of that assumption. Their parental touch and innate kinship touched even the Wolf Tribe.
In retrospect, the Twins could not bother. The Dynast burned most of the prisoners, and the freed slaves formed a new core of the population, helping Houstad heal the scars left by unhinged cruelty. She recorded the speech Devourer had given to the Dynast, persuading him to care more about the inward situation in the state.
What good is it to replace one tyrant with another? You told us that we are fighting to build a better future for all. It is time to make true on this promise. It is time to make good on that promise. And I have just the plan for how to maintain the balance between reconquest and rebuilding… Devourer, then not so tall, stood tall, supported by the nervous Ravager and the ever-mysterious Outsider. This speech was one of Janine’s most prized possessions, safely stored in the cloud and on her terminal. It was a reminder of another promise.
A promise that even the Wolf Tribe won’t be wild forever. Every war ends eventually, and there is life waiting, if not for Janine and her immediate descendants, then for the cubs of her cubs, or somewhere further down the line. And the Blessed Mother, radiant and restored, will take the mantle of the Twins and lead both groups into a brighter future. For that day, Janine will give her all.
The Reclamation Army no longer expanded as fast as it had in the past. Short of having an incredible opportunity, they will never topple the Oathtakers or Iterna; their rivals grew too fat, too strong to be swallowed. Vasco Murzaliev, Mincemeat, Blood Graf, Techno-Queen, Crimson Plague, and dozens of other tyrants would’ve never had a lick of chance to fester for so long if the State had continued to expand like a rising storm, sucking everyone into its caring and austere womb. They chose orphanages, hospitals, medicine, schools, cities, trade, tourism, archaeology, and so much more in place of unrestricted war. Was it the right choice?
Ultimately, it was the Dynast’s decision. He alone had the correct vision of a golden future for humanity. Lacerated One supported it, bashing the head of any shaman daring to growl otherwise, but the lower ranks, like Impatient One, often grumbled about missing out on the times of their pure state. Janine viewed this as idiocy.
For the new era brought balance. Marco would have died in those violent days. Today he sits beside his sisters and they take care of the defective male, no matter what Impatient One might claim. Janine gained an opportunity to lead lessons, imperfect as they may be, to be something other than a murder machine. Peace. Soldiers must love those they protect and want them to prosper. Why else fight a war?
“The people voted to build wide, not tall.” Janine dismissed the fantasies and focused on living right now. “Houstad stretches about eleven kilometers from east to west and six kilometers from north to south, with only a few skypillars… sorry, skyscrapers—in the city. Several rivers divide the city into natural neighborhoods, which are connected by huge bridges. Houstad is a massive, sprawling trade center, and thousands of migrants live in barracks owned by various corporations. Its many factories ever hunger for resources, and convoys arrive not weekly, not daily, but hourly, bringing in minerals.”
“Shit!” Anissa cursed.
“It’s going to be a pain in the ass to defend,” Bogdan voiced everyone’s fears.
“We don’t have to worry about it,” Janine said. “The last time anyone dared to attack the city was over sixty years ago. The Provincial Army, the standing defense force of the Core Lands, is no joke. Many retired veterans of the three armies work there as instructors.”
“What about criminals, thugs and slave traders?” Kalaisa inquired.
“How dangerous is it for the cubs of the Ice Fang Order or the weakest members of our packs to walk around the streets?” Anji asked, automatically patting Marco on the head.
“None that I know of.” Janine raised her paw, halting the following questions: “Houstad is a rarity in the Core Lands. There are no slums and no parts where the police are afraid to tread without the army’s support, like in the Outer Lands. Corporations pay to maintain a standard of living for work migrants, and various social programs uplift the less fortunate members of society. Undoubtedly, some thugs do exist, but the police do a good job of putting them down. Despite the dissolution of the Assassins’ Guild, many of its former members have joined the government structures and are actively involved in rooting out the criminal elements. It is reasonably safe for our kin and even Normies to walk the city all night long, but may the Spirits help you if I have to pull you out of any trouble with the police!” Janine picked up the broken crate and crumbled it into a ball. Her voice changed to cold fury. “Understand this. We are not on vacation. We’re not going to live in the Core Lands. Yet. We came to replenish our supplies and heal our wounds. Simple as that. Some fooling around will be allowed, but try to push the boundaries of what is allowed, and your hide is mine.”
“Question.” Ignacy raised his paw, and Janine calmed herself.
“Permitted.”
“We are an army. And Houstad is a city…” Ignacy gathered his thoughts. “It’s sort of strange. Where will we stay? In these... what’s the word…”
“Hotels, motels.” Elzada elbowed him lightly. “I don’t mind sharing a den with a capable male, you know…”
“Bogdan is married!” Kalaisa, Bogdan, and Anissa grasped their snouts, silencing the laughter at Ignacy’s innocent reply, and Impatient One merely patted the wide-eyed Elzada. “Anyway, thanks! Is there even a place for a crawler?”
“Houstad used to be an army center. There are several old army bases there, and the main streets are wide enough for our engines to reach them. I assume,” she admitted, not fully privy to the information the captain and commander knew, “that there are barracks for us as well.”
Janine told the soldiers about the Oakster family and how they revolutionized agriculture in the area, about the universities, and about the traditions and customs of the locals. She talked for hours before finally turning off the terminal and ordering the Wolfkins to leave and eat their fill. Anissa informed her that the operation on her eye would take place soon, and Janine approved Elzada as her temporary replacement.
The warlord came to a door and waited for her “pupils” to leave. As Kalaisa walked by, Janine grabbed the fool by the wrist and pushed her against the wall.
“You have a talent,” Janine told her, closing the door. “To turn everyone against you in such a short time is truly something.”
“The hell do you care, gran…” Kalaisa shut up as Janine grabbed her by the throat. The grip tightened, giving the irritant a taste of the warlord’s displeasure.
“I am struggling not to cut you open from neck to belly,” Janine admitted honestly. “Kalaisa, you are alone.”
“So what?” Kalaisa grabbed the warlord by the fingers, not daring to release her claws. She failed to pry the hold open and growled. “I’ve always been alone. Alone to feed my useless family, alone to do the work, alone in the pits... Alone, alone, alone, and yet I am stronger than all of them! And I will be stronger than you!”
“There is strength in numbers, Kalaisa. Males may be inferior to females, but your behavior is turning potential friends into enemies. Continue to act as you do, and no one will help you in your moment of weakness.”
“I am never weak! Never!”
“Lies, and you know it. Everyone needs help sometimes.” Janine let her go. “What is your deal?”
“My deal?” Kalaisa laughed hysterically. “Well, I guess it all started when my bitch of a mother and my scumbag of a father both died up on me and left me in the care of my newborn siblings,” Kalaisa spat into Janine’s face, leaning against the wall. “Yes, you overgrown bitch, I am a motherless cur! The shamans always told me I was hot shit, telling me how blessed I was with my power, forcing me to train and dominate, never giving me an iota of free time in the pits. On top of that, I had to maintain my tent and try to keep my brothers and sister from being eaten by the insectoids! Even when I broke my knuckles or entire limbs, I still had to forage for food and milk to feed my useless, always-hungry siblings, without a single bitch even coming to check on me—much less help! No shaman, no warrior, no male—no one ever helped! Train, suffer, work, feed the family, work, train… Fuck it all!”
Kalaisa kicked a crate, breathing heavily. Janine ignored the object as it flew past her, crashing against the wall. If this behavior had happened in front of the pack, she would have had no choice but to break Kalaisa for her disrespect. But alone, she had more leeway in dealing with this rough jewel. So she let her run her mouth.
“And then I was given to Warlord Ygrite, the weakest warlord of them all! And you know why? Because my useless brother and sister are of poor stock, and the shamans said that family counts as a pack, inseparable!” Kalaisa punched a wall, imprinting the shapes of her knuckles on the solid metal. “Why did they make me train so hard?! Why did they make me hope, make me believe?! Why I had to win, and win again, and win some more, and heal broken legs while herding cusacks to get that disgusting milk for those useless, ungrateful scumbags who stole my life, my future! I heard the shamans; anyone of my might awaited an easy ticket into the Alpha pack! Respect! The best equipment, the best comrades to learn from... I deserved it all! My family robbed me of my dream! Because of them, I am in the gutter!” She stopped and ran a paw over her muzzle. “My deal? I won’t let others be happy because I’m not. Fuck unity, fuck pack, and fuck family. Spite and wailing are far more pleasant to my ear. My shitty family has ruined my future. Now it is my turn. Let’s see if they tough it out!”
“But will any of this make you happy, eh, whiny brat?” Janine smiled and stepped back.
She remembered how fast the girl was and had taken note of her measure before. Kalaisa faked a punch from her right and tried to land a full swing with her left paw. Janine turned her head to the left, took the blow with her left fist and countered. Her straight punch landed on the wolf hag’s jaw, causing her head to shake so hard against the wall that the metal shook. Undeterred, Kalaisa tried to kick with her knee, and a heavy elbow landed on her leg, deflecting the attack. The warlord slammed her opponent against the wall and grabbed Kalaisa’s paws to restrain her. Showing her strength, she released the fool without breaking a bone.
“You should try fighting for fun,” Janine offered, spreading her arms. “Come at me however you want; I’ll treat you like a sister during training, and we’ll bond and get to know each other better.” There was malice and anger in the fool’s eyes, born of shattered hopes. “We all have our own demons from the past. It sucks, but you can’t change it, no matter how much you rage. Don’t let your frustrations manipulate you like a puppet; refuse to let them own you. I understand some of your anger. I, too, am a motherless cur. I do not promise to be gentle or kind, but if you will let me, I can help you become a person you will be proud of. A happy person. A worthy leader. Isn’t that what you want? To live a little? Maybe even have a family? And treat your cubs right.”
“You…” Kalaisa frowned. “You don’t sound like you want to dominate me.”
“Should I?” Janine pondered. “I reprimanded you during the battle for your irresponsible behavior and later tried to spare you from Ashbringer’s wrath. There is no beef between us, Kalaisa. What I see before me is a lost cub, and so I wish to offer guidance and help.”
“Is that so?” Kalaisa retreated to the door, moving slowly and never once breaking eye contact. “I was wrong. It wasn’t right to have such thoughts. He’s off the hook. As for your offer, warlord… Perhaps I will. But only if I can grind you to powder.”
With that, she slipped out the door, puzzling Janine as to what she meant. Who was off the hook? Bogdan? Bogdan? If so, the girl is even dumber than she looks. Her son had an innate talent for avoiding being beaten by a girl. Either by hiding or by stirring up trouble and sending a rival after his would-be attacker. The pack has Bogdan’s back, and Kalaisa isn’t the most popular girl around. If Kalaisa tries to dominate the male, the females of the Janine pack will take it as an insult and rip the wolf hag’s guts out.
“Is everything in order?” Impatient One asked as Janine left the compartment.
“No,” Janine said. A familiar scent wafted through the air, unnoticed by anyone with senses worse than warlords or shamans. Ashbringer. What could she want? “Tell me, Shaman, has something changed in the way we treat our cubs…”
“If this is about the disrespect…”
“Respect is earned, shaman,” Janine said. “And I’ve gotten mine. Frankly, your insinuation insults me far more than any soldier ever could. Impatient One, is it not the duty of shamans to care for motherless curs? To feed us and repair our tents and teach us how to care for our lesser siblings so that we, too, have a chance to fly? To act as surrogate mothers?”
“You are not a motherless cur, warlord.” The shaman bowed. “Your biological mother admitted…”
“Answer the question, shaman,” Janine interrupted.
“Yes. Such are our duties. The height of our duties, even. A missed lesson in the pits can be learned again later, but a life lost is lost forever …”
“I suspect not all our sisters understand this,” Janine said. She tapped the floor, irritated by the potency of the calling mark. It urged and demanded her to move, to run at once. “Visit Lacerated One. In my name, inquire about the shamans in charge of the village where Kalaisa was raised. Tell the Supreme Shaman that I believe that they have failed in their duties. Order her to contact the village immediately and demand a report on how often they brought milk and meat to Kalaisa. And motherless curs in general.”
“Kalaisa slanders against shamans?” Impatient One asked, and the warlord put a paw on her shoulder.
“Breathe, Impatient One. Your training is not yet complete. You suspect malice where there may be truth. Both she and you are a part of the tribe.” It was a challenging experience for both. Yennifer was learning to be an impartial judge, and Janine was still trying not to think of her little girl as her daughter. “Would you punish a sister for pointing out flaws to preserve the shamans’ image, or would you follow our laws?”
“Laws, of course,” Impatient One snarled. “You are correct. Kalaisa is a stinking shit, a basket of foulness, but she’s no schemer. Too stupid for that. If, if! our sisters have failed in their duties, we will make our fallibility known to everyone. The Supreme Shaman will get to the bottom of this, and if they dare to lie to her…” Her eyes flashed with indignation. “… then more woe to them.”