Malla's aura purred as it coiled under her skin. The Chief of RazorRiver hadn't felt this calm in a very long time. Putting down their would be killers had done wonders for her mood. It would have been a perfect evening if the assassins hadn't succeeded in killing the girl.

The other two she could have accepted. They were both proper warriors, used to their stations and the risks associated with duty. Their families would grieve, but their clans would remember them as the honorable fighters they were. As was proper. The girl, though technically an adult and a Hunter, was too young for such things. She didn't understand the weight of the world, nor it's delights.

A tragedy.

Yet she would not exit this world alone.

Twenty nine assassins lay dead around the council chamber. Some slumped against the peace table, others halfway stuck in the holes they ripped from the floor. They would be joined in the coming days once her Hunters rooted out any compatriots they had hiding in the city. After an attack this bold the only way to escape the clans' collective wrath would be to flee into the Green.

The Chief of RazorRiver couldn't decided if she would prefer to have her people tear the rotspawn apart or delight in knowing they were trundling around in the Green. Orcs or not, it was clear they were unprepared for the challenges of the Green. They would do no better than the human 'adventurers' she heard tales of.

Regardless of which path the cowards would choose they had until daybreak to prepare for the storm that would fall upon them. It would take the clans at least that long to finish the council and prepare the dead.

For now she had Senta call in some loyal women from the city. The traitor's path, usually a boring post, was teaming with warriors eager to tear apart any assassin foolish enough to rally on that aged trail. That their enemies had bothered using legendary climbing path up the great Giant was one of many surprises that night. Assassination attempts were regrettably part of the risk of leadership, especially for a people as unruly as the clans. Yet the Chief couldn't recall anyone actually bothering to use the old path in her lifetime, nor her mothers. Her grandmother had not ever mentioning any attempt either.

Though in fairness her grandmother was only a minor advisor to the Chiefs of the time, and may not have been informed.

The use of the path was a message, one Malla was having trouble parsing.

They would wring it out of their captives later.

First they had a council to finish.

It was a tradition, albeit a morbid one, to continue the councils after an attack. A show of strength, demonstrating that the clans couldn't be bullied by mere violence. Even so the light mood was gone. The servants were sent home, a few guards guiding them back to the well lit streets of the city. They carried the feast with them, none of the council attendees could stomach a meal over so much death.

They had gathered in the kitchens, the fires extinguished, the smells lingering as they leaned against tables or sat on whatever chairs survived the ambush.

Senta sat at her side, on the edge of her seat as her daughter stood to tell the tale of her trip to the human lands and separation from the caravan. The Warden's son, Nickolas, maintained his shaken critter act despite having demonstrated his skills as a War Mage and willingness to kill. He was standing by a spice cabinet, refusing to make eye contact.

Malla was curious about his act, and what he hoped to accomplish with it. She also wanted to know how he had tossed that flash spell out so quickly, and if he could teach it to her own favored circle.

The room quieted down as Necun began her tale. Her skills as a storyteller were somewhat lacking, but that may have been the sour mood. Malla was sure she would have received the story with amusement if she were leaning back while popping grilled vegetables into her mouth. Instead she was watching her house-daughter stumble through details of her trip while trying not to break the somber tone that loomed over the proceedings.

The Chief did feel a spark in her chest when the young Hunter spoke of seeing the golden haired Mage from across a crowded feast hall. It was poetic, despite the blunt telling, and she flicked a glance over to Nickolas.

He played up the embarrassment of hearing the meeting from his bond's perspective. The expected reaction. Malla hoped it wasn't feigned. Necun deserved a partner not a political tail chaser.

Her right hand twitched, grasping for a pipe. She was getting too old for this.

As Necun spoke of going on the tithe hunt Senta's chair creaked. The grizzled Hunter was on her best behavior, yet practically vibrated at the idea of her daughter racing every other orc for love.

When Necun caught the look in her mother's eye the story flowing from her mouth stuttered. The Chief never understood why the young Hunter was so jumpy around her own parent. It wasn't like she was particularly nervous around her guides or instructors. She followed orders perfectly well when on a hunt. And yet. If you put Senta in the room Necun became a mess.

The temptation to drag the two aside to force an explanation was strong, tempered only by her oath to Melat to do no such thing. Malla remained unsure that the costumer knew what he was doing with the girl. First time fathers always ran the risk of spoiling their daughters to no end. The Chief liked to think she ran a disciplined household, and she trusted Banto's judgment when he agreed with Melat's assessment. Yet both men were, at the end of the day, men, and couldn't quite grasp the unique nature of a mother's bond with a daughter.

Neucn's story had taken a strange turn. A tower, covered with traps and hidden runes. Each orc would have to climb one at a time to snatch the beautiful son of the Warden.

Despite the mood Malla snorted in amusement. It sounded like a poem a bored Hunter would write. A lonely one perhaps. Still, the tale of a War Mage, the one standing in the corner with his face blushing so red it might attract carrion critters, defeating every young Hunter the caravan had went a little beyond amusing. That the women went one at a time into prepared grounds without their auras before being defeated was the only thing that made the story believable.

It also irked Malla that the girls, some of them RazorRiver, would be so foolish as to pursue a man with half measures. Certainly using aura for something unimportant was both beneath a warrior's honor and risky besides, more than a few Hunters had found their auras settled into something removed from the hunt after all. And yet, those girls mistook claiming their bonds as beneath aura usage? Arrogance, sheer arrogance. It was only fitting that Necun won, she was the only orc who took the contest seriously.

Necun tailed off of her story, describing herself batting a crossbow bolt aside as she leapt for Nickolas. She seemed mildly embarrassed regarding how deep into her aura's thrall she was at the time, but that was to be expected when claiming a bond in such fierce circumstances.

The rest of the tale was truncated until the caravan entered the Green. Malla suspected she was missing some savory details, but hardly wanted to press the matter.

News of a swarm attack was interesting, normally the nightmares made carapace stuck to the deeper end of the Green. Though from certain details Malla suspected it was a younger swarm trying to build numbers. She would keep an eye on the reports anyway, just in case a broader migration was in play.

Then the young Hunter described her vision turning into a wave of flame and Malla's blood went cold. Taking a deep breath the Chief reminder herself that Necun and her bond made it here safe. More to the point Necun never mentioned needing to send help to the caravan. Around the room there were still sharp intakes of breath, but the young Hunter quickly elaborated on her response. Once she confirmed that her bond managed to distract the Matriarch and lead it away the tension permeating the room lowered again. Even if there was a small spike when she mentioned that Nickolas got the beast off their trail by exploding a section of a Giant's bark.

The collective sense of apprehension at the very concept of a Mage destroying even portions of the great trees with a wave of his hands and some magic was equal parts shocking and tantalizing. Off to the side the boy was blushing. Malla already had plans.

Fire based ones.

She would need to contact her more trusted circles, and check on the other humans. Their magic clearly needed another look.

The remainder of the story relapsed back into a rather romantic journey that Malla would describe more as a lonely girl's fantasy. Or she would if her house-daughter hadn't shown up looking every speck like a woman who slept without supplies in the open for days.

The Chief of RedHand asked her how she kept so clean. Necun blushed as she explained that Nickolas was good with water magic. He could even summon it out of the air.

Definitely a lonely girl's fantasy.

The tale wound down with a mention of some Questers with the audacity to toss an axe as greeting. Then following such a rude greeting with a red offer of recruitment. Enough to boil a mother's blood if it wasn't so ridiculously brazen.

Necun finally trailed off as she spoke of spotting the city, not sure where her story should end.

Malla spared her some embarrassment and waved her back.

As low as the mood was Necun's tale raised spirits immensely. A proper daring adventure, she even got the boy at the, well, middle, but surely after such bravery and romantic scenes she had won his heart. Senta was vibrating with excitement, eyes flitting between her daughter and the Warden's son. An interesting family discussion in the making. Malla hoped they could work it out without getting involved herself.

The Mage in question caught her eye. He kept his face tight, still maintaining the nervous act. His eyes flicked towards the door. The Chief of RazorRiver considered his silent request for a long moment before agreeing with a tiny nod. The golden haired Mage drifted past like a dream, settling into his bond's lap with a sigh.

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More than a few eyes took in the couple. Whatever the other lessons of the night the pair had established themselves as a strong and loving couple. It killed any hopes the more ambitious might have schemed regarding the politically connected Mage's heart. They would focus on flattery instead Malla suspected. Banking on the human's notorious pride. Then try to join their household later.

And perhaps get access to his runes, given the events layed out in Necun's story.

Malla would need to keep the other clans away from the lovers until they could find a place to start their household, and perhaps a few other pairs to form a firm foundation. Good RazorRiver stock, though the other clans sending their candidates was an inevitability she couldn't stave off forever. The pains of being born to a Chief's house. Necun's own talents didn't lower her profile either, though in fairness the girl had never tried to be anything other than exceptional. Even when it came to finding a mate it seemed.

All told it warmed the cold stone Malla was fairly certain replaced her heart cycles ago.

The remaining proceedings would pass as they always did. Faster than normal perhaps, the council was uninterested in the usual pleasantries and politics these events usually teamed with. Malla preferred the acidic bite of her peers to the droning stiffness they all had adopted now. She didn't blame them, everyone knew they were just rushing through the formalities before organizing a hunt for the traitors infesting the city.

The pair slipped off, arm in arm as things wrapped up. Malla's gaze was still drawn by that woven braid of gold bouncing against the boy's back. It didn't appeal to her the way it seemed to with the younger women, but it still caught her eye every time.

A breath left the room with the couple. The remaining reports were truncated, or outright skipped. While they all were preparing to receive the caravan in their own way they felt no need to share the usual pleasantries.

The night passed it's darkest moment, and with it the countdown to dawn began. A map was unfurled. The main arteries of the city drawn in coloured ink. Each layer represented down to the districts. It wasn't a perfect representation, each day buildings were knocked down or rebuilt. Still, it was enough for their purposes, the women on the ground could worry over every alley.

“Six pods.” Malla grunted, slapping blue stones on RazorRiver's territory. “That's all I can spare, we're already hunting the killers.”

“Might not be an issue for long.” RedHand's Chief replied. “Even if these assassin's aren't involved in your dead. I can spare some girls to hunt for murderers.”

The broad woman slapped a hand onto the map, eighteen stones dyed red hit RedHand's turf.

“Appreciated.” Malla responded in turn.

This wasn't the time for pride. Not with blood on the ground.

“Sixteen. We don't have more with the current hunts going on.” Chief LongNeck declared, their own stones joining with a splash of green.

“Twenty five.” Chief BlackVine said softly, placing their pitch black stones with two hands.

The other Chiefs stared for a moment.

BlackVine's Chief pretended not to notice. Coughing slightly when the silence dragged.

“I can spare some for your territories.” she offered. “Ten should be enough to cover mine.”

“Appreciated.” Malla agreed immediately, starting to arrange her stones to cover the areas she suspected a group of assassins could gather in secret. “I can break up one of the pods to act as guides for yours. With the help we could sweep each warehouse I'm worried about before tomorrow night.”

The others swallowed any comments about that many BlackVine warriors creeping around her territory.

Redhand quietly arranged her stones.

“I'll be sweeping from the border of the farms to the edge of each of your territories. I recommend the rest of you do the same.” the Chief said bluntly. “Better to corner the rats then let them disappear into the Green and bother our Hunters.”

“What?” Malla rasped, tilting her head as she watched RedHand's Chief arrange her stones. “We should be doing the opposite. These rotspawn are as incompetent as they are bloodthirsty. If they want to feed some beast in the Green they are free to rush out. They'll be begging for a blade to the throat after the first day without a campsite.”

“And we'll learn nothing.” RedHand snapped back. “This isn't a pod of Questors gone mad. Or a bunch of clanless burning a building or two. This is a new faction. We don't know what their goals are, how many women they have in the city. We don't even know who they're recruiting from. The only thing we can be relatively certain of is that they don't have many Hunters in their ranks. Even if they were holding them back, and this was all bait, which I caution you of, an experienced Hunter would come up with a far better plan than this mess.”

“Remember to breathe.” Longneck said with mild amusement. “But you're right, we can let a few slip away but we'll need the leaders intact. For a show of force if nothing else. Otherwise the next rotspawn that want to try will just make plans to escape afterwards.”

“Speaking of, I reserve the right to punish any of the captives however I choose.” BlackVine said, voice steady. “They'll be useful bodies on the line come rot season.”

Both RedHand and LongNeck winced at the thought, but held their tongues. It wasn't the worst use of traitors they had heard of.

Malla considered the notion herself before dismissing it. Her people would complain too much about watching a bunch of prisoners. Wasn't worth the risk. Farmwork might do for some of the less involved collaborators. Or Scavenging. RazorRiver's Chief kept the idea in mind for those who weren't worthy of death.

“Starting out in the farms then searching inwards.” RedHand reiterated after some consideration. “I'll leave a pod on the outskirts just to catch runners going out through my gates.”

The broad shouldered orc sighed dramatically.

“My farmers won't be happy, we might fall behind on some of the crops over this.” she complained.

“They'll be fine. It just a morning of work.” LongNeck scoffed. “Tell them to sharpen their tools if you're so worried. I'm far more concerned that they might get ideas and take hostages.”

The slender woman gripped the grip on her side knife.

“I won't have them spilling more blood when we could have stopped it.” she hissed, face suddenly darkening. “It already burns that their pet illusionist slipped away. I doubt they'll go quietly.”

Malla hummed.

“Assuming this is the same group that's been killing my people, they'll have no issue killing unarmed women just going about their day.” she rasped. “But they've refrained from killing children or men so far. Backs pressed to the wall makes women dangerous, so it might come down to individual taste. Not something to rely on with women who were willing to support a traitorous assassination during a council meeting. We'll have to tell each of the hunting pods to take them by surprise.”

“If we can keep runners from warning any other groups we can hopefully take them down before they realize they might need hostages.” RedHand suggested with a nod. “If our pods only strike when they have even numbers, or preferably outnumber the rotlovers, we can keep the risk down.”

Nodding along each of the Chiefs rearranged their stones to fit the new hunt parameters, matching more stones up in likely hiding spots. Malla found herself pairing all six of her pods up with BlackVine stones. It was more efficient for searching. It still irked her to show so much weakness now of all times. There was no doubt in her mind that LongNeck would be taking advantage of this incident in the coming seasons, perhaps even cycles.

Didn't matter now. Pride would be considered later.

Malla's fingers itched for the comforting feeling of smooth wood. The brush of smoke going down her throat. The rush as it hit her lungs and filled her body with warm peace.

Later. She promised herself. There was time for her vice later. It didn't define her.

Her people needed her now.

She gripped the next stone a touch harder than necessary.

“We hit them at dawn.” Malla said seriously. “They might expect us to strike right away, the extra time will allow their guard to drop. We can also note anyone who isn't going to work or market. If they're skittish they'll hole up in their homes.”

RedHand looked confused, but BlackVine was nodding along thoughtfully.

“I'll talk to the shift leaders.” BlackVine said with a knowing smile.

“Anything else?” RedHand asked. “Or can we start the muster?”

Each of the other Chiefs grunted their approval before flicking a hand to summon their senior Hunter's over.

BlackVine had brought in a new face to replace the woman who had fallen in the attack. The replacement looked hungry for blood.

Senta joined her Chief, kneeling just behind her and studying the map. Malla always enjoyed the cold calculation in the Hunter's eyes as she evaluated a plan. It was one of the many things that drew her to the orc during their youth hunting in the Deep Green. Second only to her dogged loyalty.

The Hunter was already making notes in her head, murmuring names under her breath as she built and assigned pods to each location. A single nod marked her readiness.

Then she flicked her gaze between the black stones, the BlackVine clan overseeing their own preparations, and Malla herself. Malla just nodded, Senta would work with their ally for this, no matter the other clans ultimate intentions.

A heartbeat later Senta bowed, then rushed off towards the traitor's path to gather the women she had left combing the area. It would be troublesome to gather the necessary women before dawn, and Malla was glad it was left in her friend's capable hands now. It let her seethe in peace.

“I'll be going.” she announced, sweeping up her stones. “I'll send a runner if there's any changes before we strike. Otherwise it begins when the first ray of light strikes the leaves. Also I'll be taking that captive Necun took. If she gives us any interesting information it will go out with a runner.”

The Chief of RazorRiver stood, back creaking as she straightened.

“Death to traitors.” she snarled. “Honor to RazorRiver.”

The others bared their teeth as they responded with their own declarations, but Malla found herself tuning out the usual bravado.

She needed to get home. Spend some time with her bond before the madness of combat consumed the city.

In the end her exit from the council was as subdued as he entrance. The death hanging in the air pressed her shoulders into a hunched stride. Her advisors formed up around her, each fingering a blade as they kept a sharp watch on their surroundings.

“Bit of meat for the pot, Senta will be too distracted to disrupt the lovers settling in.” Caretaker Zel said as they stepped onto the platform. “Shame my time with the boy was interrupted, he had such a twisty way of thinking. The brat.”

Malla glanced down, narrowing her eyes as she recalled the moments before the attack.

“What was he even trying to do?” the Chief rasped out. “Playing for sympathy like that? It undermines his position if he's negotiating. Doubly so if he's looking to build a powerful household.”

“I think you've been bonded too long Malla.” Zel replied with joy in her voice. “Necun matched with a powerful Mage? One capable of tossing around human magic? Even if it's nothing compared to a warrior's aura it's still impressive. He needed to soften the edges more than anything else. He doesn't want to be taken too seriously. Between the connections of those two he'll have plenty of listeners to any deal or contact he may wish for. Being a blushing nervous wreck gives him better leverage, it means any negotiations can't get too 'rough'. Plays right into the rumors around humans already, doubly so for men. I'd guess the boy put some thought into all that before he approached me in the first place.”

“Then why give him what he want's?” Malla questioned. “You were a bit rough with him. I thought the sneer was too much. And you know we'd love any opportunity to send more caravans if it's profitable at all. Extra Hunters would be almost comically easy to gather up. If we could get an extra tithe or two on the table we'd have to beat the younger women back with a stick.”

“I wanted to press him.” Zel admitted without shame. “Wasn't thinking long term. And all this jaw about what he wanted is hindsight, didn't figure he would draw out his bargaining position like this. Usually a man with something to prove brags more.”

“Is he after a proper household or not then?” Malla rasped. “I don't like the idea of the Warden's son playing games with Necun if he's here for politics.”

“Yes, because our household is so free of politics.” Zel shot back.

Malla just growled in reply, her hand twitched again. She needed a pipe stuffed full of sweet cane to settle herself.

“The girl is a fantastic Hunter.” the Chief stated. “As her house-mother I couldn't be prouder. Doesn't mean she's perfect. She has her blind spots. One's it's my duty to cover and protect her from.”

“Keep an eye on the boy.” Malla ordered, eyes shifting to watch the city.

The lights had dimmed, some going out entirely. It was beautiful.

“If he gets out of hand let me handle it.” she rasped.

“Necun might object.” Zel replied. “And she'll be leaving the household soon, we don't exactly have an excuse to step in.”

“I'm the Chief.” Malla said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That's excuse enough.”