They marched! Janine’s heartbeat quickened against her will; her mood lifted at the sounds of horns and music playing. The national anthem was so intense that it had almost matched the usual chaos of battle, but rather than announcing an impending doom to those resisting the Reclamation Army, it now sang of reunion through life. Adoration and cheers met the weary army, and even the grimmest of veterans found no heart to sour such an occasion.
The Inevitable shone in the sunlight. Dedicated worker teams from Houstad meticulously cleaned every plate, every cannon, and even the tracks themselves. Dirt was scrubbed from the vehicles, flags and banners flowed on the wind from the sides of the crawler and the mobile bastions. Ice Fangs, clad in their parade uniforms, marched across the bridge leading into the city, accompanied by the thunderous cheers of the local populace and fireworks forming the country’s colors overhead.
Camelia Wintersong led the parade. She wore a long, light blue overcoat over her power armor, while two initiates held up her dark blue cloak to prevent it from touching the ground. She transformed her weapon into a marshal’s staff adorned with a snarling Wolfkin’s head, symbolizing a blend of the Blessed Mother’s savagery and the Twins’ restrained wisdom. On this occasion, she used a special suit of combat armor, a pristine white suit once used by the female Twin, and on her head was the male’s helmet. First himself authorized the use of this treasured ancient equipment.
To her left were Zero, Dragena, and Ashbringer, the only warlords who joined the parade. Zero waltzed, rather than walking formally; the light highlighted the gold she had painted over the edges of her armor and reflected from precious gems set into her breastplate. There was little formality in her behavior; the woman basked in welcoming cheers and responded in kind, throwing up her paws and giving thumbs up. She even scooped up three cubs and piggybacked them a few steps before the Blessed Mother snapped her back to reality.
Ashbringer and Dragena were her polar opposites. One clad in the heaviest crimson armor and the other in a lighter dark blue version. Their march was in perfect official unison with the steps of the sword saints. Sages, banner-bearing knights, knights captains in their gleaming battle plates, eighteen selected wolf hags, one from each warlord present in the army, and other soldiers of the Third advanced in their wake.
Senior officers and elite Normie and New Breeds units flanked this gathering. Ravager insisted on it, disregarding the mayor’s and the captain’s offers to put the regular humans back. By stationing these brave souls on the flanks, she ensured their visibility, for the Wolfkins towered over them. Chak rode atop the APC, his body coiled around its turret, and the chief quartermaster dozed off, ignoring the greeting. His presence here was to show solidarity with the civilized Malformed, and the man’s poor eyesight didn’t allow him to enjoy the wonders of the city.
Or so the bastard claims. Janine thought icily, biting down on the urge to tell Anissa to stop glancing at Chak. The two had already scheduled their plans to explore the city.
They crossed the bridge, waving and howling in response to the cubs’ greetings. The little ones flocked to the riverbanks. A long shadow cast by a statue of the Dynast welcomed the newcomers; their liege stood tall above the gates leading into the inner city; his features and armor were of white. In one hand the statue held a copy of the universal laws, and in the other a mace, the silent warning to anyone who thought of disobeying the law.
Statues of fallen and living heroes dotted the outer perimeter of Houstad, and Janine cringed when she saw a white-furred Ravager smiling happily next to the Twins. Clearly, someone didn’t know them very well.
The procession spilled onto the main street, and Janine, overwhelmed with emotion, grabbed Martyshkina’s paw. Her friend reacted even more openly: her jaws opened wide. In preparation for their arrival, the mayor had announced a surprise celebration, and the state had promised to compensate businesses for lost profits. Freed from work, the people gathered to pay their respects.
Paradise wouldn’t describe this place. The sheer size of the city awed Janine. Light danced and reflected off the countless windows and cars; fresh smells of bread, meat, oil and perfume wafted from the stone streets and small shops. People! So many of them standing on the sidewalks, waving flags, waving their hands, or simply laughing. Orais cheered beside Normies. A family of mutants discussed something with the goat-headed Malformed couple over hotdogs that they purchased from the darting back and forth youths. Policemen in green uniforms maintained iron vigilance. The hem of one of their coats flapped in the wind, revealing an advanced exoskeleton to Janine. The sound of sniper rifles moving on the rooftops caught her attention.
She disregarded the precautions and focused on the city. Coming from the north, they now entered what was known as the Priests’ Quarter. His excellency Devourer and the Dynast had a long and distrustful history with religions, seeing them as little more than pleasant lies. However, the diligence of small monastic communities and the selflessness of individual believers in aiding the Restoration had proven otherwise, and the two relented, accepting the necessity of spirituality in society.
Bells tolled from the green gardens surrounding the stone cathedrals of the Church of the Planet, the biggest and fastest-growing religion in Iterna, the Oathtakers, and the Reclamation Army. The training grounds of the Champion, a martial religion that originated from the Orais, remained empty and bloodless. Sweaty trainees and muscular challengers, their bones broken and reforged in sparring, shared space with young and innocent-looking nuns, priests, and rugged ordinands.
The last group caught Janine’s interest. All ordinands shared their share of scars; some even had artificial limbs. This bellicose wing of the church was responsible for delivering humanitarian aid to the world’s most remote corners. They often used their weapons to stop the lawless and the threatening, to protect their flock and the helpless. Former soldiers and retired mercenaries seeking redemption formed the core of their ranks.
Martyshkina had other tastes, and Janine swallowed a giggle at her friend’s intense focus on the Orais challenger, an analog of a priest among the Champion’s faithful. There was no high clergy and barely any order in this religion; its members welcomed anyone seeking self-improvement, whether biological or partially mechanical. The Orais themselves rarely reached the size of a wolf hag, but the one that caught Marty’s attention seemed capable of folding a shaman in half.
“Planning to convert?” Janine whispered.
“What?” Martyshkina gasped. “No! Jani, look at his muscles. I am telling you, the bastard is showing off. I’ll see him eat dirt, don’t worry.”
“Don’t know, he seemed hospitable to me.” Janine waved to the Orais, and the five-fingered challenger grinned, showing his impeccable, even, square teeth.
“You dummy, that’s how you repay the hospitality! A fair, no-holds-barred match is the greatest gesture of trust you can give to a championian.”
“No match against a warlord could be considered fair.” Janine shouldered the pouting Martyshkina. “I am joking! Don’t hurt him too much.”
“I hope to learn something.” Martyshkina wrapped an arm around Janine’s shoulders. “The news has been reporting about her perfect grappling techniques.”
“Good luck with that,” Janine said doubtfully and returned her eyes to the crowds. Her head spun a little. “Normies, mutants, everyone, event religions… They coexist together. I… It’s…”
“What’s the matter, the Blessed Mother got your tongue?” Martyshkina teased. “That peace must be a real tough bitch if it can almost knock out Jani so effortlessly.”
“Tough,” Janine agreed. “But also the best by right. If it counts as a loss, I don’t mind. The food smells make me drool.”
“Now you’re talking my language! My stomach rumbles and demands fresh sacrifices!”
They fell silent as the Inevitable reached the first square. Janine had to blink trice to believe her eyes. So many people. There had to be thousands, or tens of thousands, of civilians standing to the left and right; their roar of greeting had shocked the warlord to her core. An army… No several armies on their own! And many of them had never even seen war or the cruelty of the Outer Lands, thanks to the genius of the Dynast.
And their own modest efforts.
Reporters filmed the column; fast-food stands were overflowing; acrobats danced, leaped, and juggled in the crowds, earning themselves tokens; singers performed songs of the Outer Lands; priests blessed the returning soldiers; families whimpered in happiness as they spotted a familiar face among the troops; young white-furred cubs were throwing flowers, and painters toiled to mark this occasion.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Welcome back! Welcome back! No more wars! Let our children stay!” Janine tilted her head, confused, as she picked up a clearly orderly chant in the torrent of cheers, but she decided to ignore it.
There was no threat in these words. Worry yes, but no fear or anger.
Elder Ice Fangs, dressed in expensive dresses or strict business suits, occupied rich rooftop terraces, toasting their passing relatives and greeting everyone in unison. The nation’s economic system deeply ingrained these male and female Ice Fangs, who chose civilian lives and held shares in or outright owned firms and stores. All Ice Fangs had been trained in martial arts since birth, but if rumors were to be believed, these ice boys had long since forgotten how to hold a sword properly. Several white-furred Wolfkins, mostly squires and knights, saluted from the ranks of the police. These guards helped keep the cities of the Core Lands safe, fulfilling a role not too dissimilar from that of roaming packs who kept settlements and villages safe.
But they are more gorgeous by far. Janine caught herself smiling, noticing Ignacy’s envious expression at the advanced power armor types below. Her boy was too easily distracted by the shiny things. Who cared if their cousins had more advanced and elegant types of armor? Their plating was too thin, unsuitable for rapid advancement, and not large enough to accommodate enough servomotors. The Wolf Tribe’s soldiers filled multiple roles in combat: grenadier, shock trooper, melee fighter—you name it, they’ve done it. When one died, the remaining soldiers seamlessly filled the void.
Their cousins relied on a strict delegation of responsibilities between the troops. Defenders shielded the knights’ assaults, while the knights sliced through the main battle lines, allowing the sages to bring in sword saints and sever an enemy’s throat. Meanwhile, the hunters reaped their toll from a distance, using their sniper rifles. Idiocy. Instead of focusing on simple standardization, there were too many individual battle plates. War was all about mass warfare; strike fast and end the fight fast to limit the casualties.
The procession reached the terraforming complex, an enormous, square-shaped series of facilities close to the city’s edge. Janine did not know many things, but she recognized the heart of the city at once. New Breeds blessed with passive abilities of preventing precognition in an area and those who wielded powers capable of blocking teleportation were stationed here. Houstad was still undergoing the terraforming process. Should these facilities be destroyed or taken offline for weeks, the entire southern region risked suffering an ecological catastrophe or even reverting to a barren wasteland.
A walled encampment was built roughly eight hundred meters away from the complex, a place more fitting to be barracks or a command post. And yet it was the famous orphanage, “No one is unneeded,” as Devourer called it. Initially funded from his private coffers, this place and its mirror sisters in other cities had dozens of buildings inside its walls and housed several thousand motherless victims of conquests, raids, or simply natural disasters.
Normies and New Breeds alike were welcomed here, protected, cared for, and educated by the state. A bronze statue of an unknown girl was erected in the courtyard. Her posture betrayed fear and uncertainty: one hand raised to protect the lacerated face against an unseen whip, but her back firmly shielded the entrance to the main building.
“In memory of those we couldn’t save,” Melina read the inscription on the statue’s pedestal. “Well, that’s a morbid reminder to the cubs who lost their parents. And why is the statue so ugly? Wounds, scars, skin missing from the ribs, the cut robe. Who? Which freak decided to create…”
“Melina.” Every soldier on the observation deck froze when they heard Ravager’s voice from above.
“Y-yes, Blessed Mother?” Melina squeaked.
“It was Devourer’s decision. A sin or a remembrance of his failure. Or maybe a demand to be better? Even I don’t know. Even I didn’t reach her in time. But he did. He tried. Shut up and accept it,” Ravager maintained her silence and then chuckled. “Teachers regularly petition for the removal of these statues so the little ones won’t be traumatized or scared.”
“A… a question, Blessed Mother,” Melina said.
“You try my patience, wolf hag. Do you not need your tongue? Shall I pull it out?” Ravager growled, and they heard a clanking of fangs.
Janine’s claws bit into her paw from worries over her son. The Blessed Mother was sane. She had to be! Spirits, just one day! A day without madness! Give her a day of rest!
“Ask your question, child,” Ravager said wearily.
“They welcome volunteers.” Melina pointed to a sign near the orphanage’s main gates. “Can I…”
“Of course, girl.”
Drones, operated by the reporters, swooped down from the buildings. They filmed proud Order warriors up close and tried to get better pictures of their black-furred kin. Bogdan had to grab Ignacy’s belt as the soldier swung over the railings to get a better look at the flying machines.
“They are amazing,” Ignacy whispered. “Imagine the usefulness! They could deliver small loads to a mountain village, drop grenades onto secured positions, or fire small caliber weapons.”
“Or mapping the area.” Janine nodded and hugged him. “The First Army already used them extensively, and the Second followed suit. We can’t lag behind. A first batch of combat drones is waiting for us at the base. I volunteered our pack to test their synergy with our soldiers.” She smiled at her son’s awed eyes. “We have received both scanners and weapon models. On Alpha’s orders, at least one member of a scout’s pack is to learn how to become a field drone operator.”
“Really? I mean, that is excellent news, Warlord!” Ignacy beamed and stood at attention.
“I expect you and Elzada to show initiative and pave the way for the rest of our pack to master the control of such devices. We will not lose to the Alpha or Ashbringer packs. Am I clear?”
“Crystal clear, ma’am!” Her sons replied in unison.
She caught Bogdan grinning. Whatever. Just because she could accept Ignacy’s desire to possibly remain a loner didn’t mean she should stop trying to make him and Elzada soulmates. She wanted more granddaughters. Or grandsons. Either will do at this point. No cub of hers should stay alone in their tent at night.
“People of the Reclamation Army!” The Blessed Mother’s voice stopped any mischief on the crawler.
The procession came to a halt in the middle of the city, stopping at the largest square, from which could be seen several large skyscrapers and a modest city hall. A kilometer-tall skyscraper had a large display mounted on its side. The display’s screen showed the Blessed Mother, a stunning and glorious sight for everyone to witness.
She refused to put on the military coat; her own fur covered her fully, its void somehow darkened the area near her. But the mayor insisted on regalia, and she obliged to the request. A metal diadem, resembling an olive branch, adorned her brow, encircling her head. Bone totems and amulets of the Wolf Tribe, bones of those who perished in the wars, dangled from her neck, sharing space with the exquisitely crafted golden talismans and necklaces of the Ice Fang Order. She spread her arms wide, greeting the assembling crowds.
Jaquan was by her side, while Jacomie and Cristobo remained in the control center. Despite warnings about the commander’s temper and wild outbursts, the mayor declined the offer of safety, insisting that it was ultimately his decision to allow the Third to remain in the city. He had no intention of hiding or protecting himself from the person he had brought in.
Marco and an Ice Fang cub, the initiate who asked Janine to give her young son a message about a pizza, stood on the platforms to the left and right of the Blessed Mother, waving and smiling at the crowds. The initiates found suitable official clothes for Marco in their closets and dyed them dark so that he would have the official colors of his tribe. The Ice Fang girl chose a long, flowing dress, and diamonds glittered in her hair.
Janine noticed the mayor’s smile as Ravager veered off the script from the beginning. She was supposed to address the citizens of Houstad, but she chose to address the entire Reclamation Army. Perhaps she had already forgotten the speech and was improvising. Alpha, Lacerated One and Leonidas Summerspring stood close to the cubs, weapons ready. Should madness come upon the progenitor, it would be their duty to halt her. But so far, everything seemed in order.
“My heart sings in joy at hearing your warm and sincere greetings,” Ravager continued in a calm and clear voice. The mayor put on a headset to protect his eardrums, and the Blessed Mother’s words propelled air that moved the hem of the Ice Fang’s girl dress. “Yet I also hear your thanks. My compatriots! Guests from the faraway lands! You need not thank us! It is we who should thank you!” The cheers subsided a little as people whispered questions, trying to guess the meaning of her words. “It is true!” Ravager insisted. “When I left Houstad the last time, it was a miserable place, where people had to claw another day out of life to survive. Look at it now!” She pointed to the buildings, cars, shops, billboards, signs, a hospital on a distant street, a small charity run by priests. “You rose above barbarism; you built not just something, but a life worth living! You did it, not us! Be proud! Your achievements are just as important, nay! They are even more important than any war we have ever won! People of the Reclamation Army, you build your children a beautiful home worth coming back to! The Wolf Tribe could’ve never created it. We were born to conquer, and when we came to you as terrifying monsters, you reached out to us and help us integrate into normal life. What else can I say, but thank you? Thank you, young and old, for believing in us, for giving us a chance…”
The Blessed Mother continued to speak, praising the implementation of civil rights and the acceptance of people from different backgrounds. Janine grinned after Cristobo shared a worried look with Jacomie, Alpha, and his officers. The Dynast and his cabinet had sent a very specific speech for Ravager to deliver, one that emphasized the continuing dangers in the world and the need for a strong guiding hand to control every person born with power.
Ravager had ignored it, clearly enjoying admiring two street performers during her speech, a man and a woman. One of them conjured flaming dragons that danced above the crowd, and his friend turned the fiery flames into ice sculptures. But before they could fall on the tourists and people, the first artist quickly melted them into drops of water to thunderous applause.
Janine clapped to it too. She didn’t wish to think of war on this wonderful day. Peace, however brief, had to be enjoyed and treasured…
“Go back to your deserts, you murderers!” A voice boomed from loudspeakers, and a mixed crowd of people broke through the line of police and stormed the main road.
Aggression coming from their progenitor whipped every Wolfkin on the crawler and below. And the Ravager’s face on the display changed into a bloodthirsty frown.