Chương 358: 8.3

Evren considered the capital from his balcony. He'd been given rooms that were fit for his size and as opulent as those given him in his Regent's palace of a keep. But unlike there he also had a balcony wide enough he could just barely fit every loop of his coils on its stone in the noon sun. The wind blew through his fur and carried to him the scents of the city, stinking and fresh and all the muddled mix in between. It was probably colder than home, or even the valley of Kars.

People didn't smell of sweat as hard in the same clothes as they would normally this time of year. The sun also did not drive them to shade and shelter like he had come to expect, so he could only assume it was cold. No one seemed to shiver like they would in a high mountain trail or in the spire's frozen shadow during winter. There was no scent of snow in the air but Terminapolis was distant from any of the Vault walls or mountains.

So it was not as cold as they said the far north was, the land of ice and darkness ruled by the Shining Terror; still cold but not overly so. A city, wafting up the familiar scents of the men and women going about their day. But there was one more difference in the Capital from Kars. There were far fewer of his people, fewer of the Gutti than he'd ever seen, Evren could still spot and smell them moving among the city's other denizens.

All wrapped heavily in cloth to obscure every detail of their bodies, yet their numbers were nothing like the hills of home or even the streets of Kars. So few of his people! He'd not noticed when last he visited how few there were, so surrounded by his own family he was. But where in Kars every two in ten would have the distinct scent of fur even when they covered themselves as was tradition? Here in the city of the High King there was maybe one in twenty, maybe even less!

If he marched along those streets how long would it take some of them to shed their smothering cloaks as well? Or perhaps with the cooler wind they didn't suffer under them so badly? For how sparser they were, having a snout like a dog did not seem to bring the same malice, as evident by the nature of the guards who stood along and patrolled these streets. The armour of the Magarska army was even more prominent than Kars.

And unlike in his own 'capital' not all of the soldiers who wore the metal and cloth of the soldiers were snub faced and nearly hairless. No, here even if it was just as sparse in number as the city folk, some of the soldiers actually had proper tails, snouts, and alert ears. Their helms were even fashioned in such a way as to let them swivel and bend properly. Moreso every gutti soldier had protection for their ears in the form of metal cups held in place with rings set through the rims of their ears.

Evren's own ears flicked in agitation at the thought, but then he had fine scales under his fur to protect them. A mortal man could not expect such protection. He was not known to these soldiers. They did not call him anything but the Wolf Prince when they talked. But they did speak in curiosity about him. Evren hears them around corners and in their barracks when he passes close in the courtyards of the palace. But more important than that they spoke to the snub faced soldiers as equals.

Like neighbors and friends. Evren turned away from the city and returned to his reading. The officer's hand book he'd been fetched when he asked for something to pass his time was curious. Different from all the material his keeper had tried to give him. Simple and direct with little flowery language. Just basic dry facts and sometimes speeches from warriors or generals. And somewhat surprising it had entries on a dozen different kinds of man and beasts and how they could be used for war.

The entry upon the directing and use of Gutti in the Magarskan army was simple and clear, Opening with the same tone as it had recommended the arrangement and training of war griffs. As it spoke of kinds of men Evren had never seen: he'd already learned so much, and wondered if these dry facts described other men? which were shunned for simply being? Or did they look down on the snub faced men themselves for lacking what they had? Did the giants and ogres hate those smaller than them?

All the booklet said was how many day's rations that a larger man (and they were apparently quite large!) would require to remain fighting fit by their build and height. After the brief description which had given Evren yet another name for his people he found something surprising. The little handbook in his claws shone with a possible answer as to why here in the capital the Gutti were treated better.

For in its dry manner, the officer's guide had something like praise for his people:" Cynocephali are a blessing in one's company. Do not squander them, treat them well and indulge them with their foibles. A fully trained dog-headed pathfinder can scout better than any other kind of man. Their homelands are the hills and they cover rough terrain with an ease few can match. With training they can match a hound for powers of tracking while reporting to an officer what they have found!

Take care under hotter skies that they have a double ration of water and an allowance to travel in daylight with less than regulation armor on the march for their fur can smother them under such heat. They can also most importantly healthily feed on meat and food spoiled beyond other's constitution to endure. Thus tainted rations should be favored for their-" Evren snarled and threw the hand book back into his room. The durable leather and tightly bound spine weathering the tumble with little damage.

An Officer's manual was small, light and sturdily made. Meant to weather the rigors of the march. Then he sighed and slunk back into his guest chambers to pick up the book. He should not have gotten his hopes up. It was to be expected, it was how Fizzbunches had explained it. Almost a perfect example, even. He could not hold back the rumble of his voice." Call us blessed and feed us scraps from a midden." His wind was too riled up now, no good for reading now.

The manual, scuffed and marked with a few more scratches than before went onto one of the stupid little desks in the 'bed chamber'. He considered returning to the balcony, but the city had long since lost its lure even from the vantage of height. No, Evren left his room and began wandering the halls, striding through the eerie silence of it; Even the shining stone he stepped on's whispers were subdued for so little did they hear an easy voice speaking.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. In the Capital and its palace, a far greater care and strict adherence to the High King's mandate of silence in reading royal missives was enforced. Entire meetings were conducted in silence but for the scratch of a stylus in wax. There was still gossip and speech but a clear and present absence could be heard when something was being passed between interlocutors that was meant to go unheard.

The clear awareness of and care for just how far a wyrm's hearing could catch errant words made Evren feel deafened. Not even his Regent seemed to dare to break that mandate in sight of anyone, nor risk having his staff perform their usual act of reading things aloud to him. But he did mutter and complain under his breath for the indignity of it in the study that had been given him. If Evren was still alone, he would be lost in this smothering of secrets that the High King commanded.

If his Regent was any less of a fool, he would have maybe not even learned how awful the man was, but Evren was not alone. Fizzbunches found his way around a corner right between the wyrm's legs. The weird was always slipping into place from seemingly open air, then gently weaving against his ankles and wrists in a sinuous twisting interlacing of their strides in a casual way that begged belief. Speaking in contact with Evren's forearm as much as the random growls and purrs."

I've nearly found the full breadth and depth of the lies in this city, young shepherd." The practiced tone of bemusement slid free from Evren's lips with hardly a thought. Again finding how he could say precisely the truth in a way that no listener would ever guess.

"Oh is that so little advisor? and how far do they fly? How deep do they swim?" He did not feel like wrapping his tongue around the High Magarskan Courtly speech just then, he was going to have to muscle through it for hours come the evening feast. So he spoke plainly to the cat in his family's words. The cat curled around Evren's left wrist before leaping up to perch upon his shoulder squirming into position and clawing for purchase on the scales beneath his fur."

Murad is playing a dangerous gambit, The Countess and her northern allies have a weapon that can destroy the wallachian monsters beyond her own flame. He had suspected it was so, and arranged a chance for the Countess to prove its existence." Evren hummed very obviously, then turned to look at the slow blink of Fizzbunches on his shoulder.

"Tell me more, little advisor." The cat blinked again, then began grooming his face and paws." He plots to bargain for this secret alongside an alliance with Cantor Reborn against Wallachia. He believes that the assault upon the Countess and her party moving under truce on a mission for peace will ensure her agreement on grounds of justice and the Countess' known hate of the Vampires."

Evren did not know what to even say to that, it was the kind of scheming twisted thinking that Fizzbunches strived to teach him, but it made his heart and head ache to even try and grasp the sense of. Evren huffed heavily, finally finding some vapid comment.

"Is that so?" Fizzbunches began licking his own back, tail swishing side to side, tickling the feathers where Evren's wings joined into his back." Indeed, it would be a fine plan. Count Tepes sending such a force into Magarskan lands would be more than enough of a trespass for war. It would all be terribly fair of him to suggest an alliance with Jewel over it."

Evren had heard that tone before, he stopped walking and turned his neck around to look at the cat who was presently seeming to ignore him while working at the fur under his belly. Grooming that the Wolf prince knew for a fact the Wizard did not need to do to keep his coat so shining.

"So, what is the trick, little advisor?" The cat turned to look at him, tongue half extended from his mouth, staring at him with what in any normal cat would convey utter bewilderment but spoke differently to the wyrm. It was all in the way those eyes were slowly closing to thin lines of utter self satisfaction." The trick Evren, Wyrm of the Gutti and Shepherd of his family. Is that Count Vladimer Tepes sent no such creatures to attack the Countess of Viznove and her party."

The tongue was slowly pulled back, and then with a wide toothsome yawn and a light smacking of his lips, the cat continued, absolutely dripping with pleasure at his own accomplishments. A satisfaction in trickery that Evren could only smile at.

"Well then, little advisor? If he didn't, who did?" Evren asked, even though he had all of his own opinions on that, already. Fizzbunches settled into a round little loaf on the wyrm's shoulder. Eyes disappearing in the pleased joy of something deviously done." Count Vladimer Tepes did create the vampire who assaulted the Viznove Caravan, however he made them and returned them to Magarska whole and sound of mind as any vampire could be. All part of the exchange of prisoners at the conclusion of his rebellion."

Evren nodded and continued his walk, going in no particular direction, just wandering through the halls, offering nods to what staff and guards he passed. But truly he was listening to his companion and confidant lay out the lies and hypocrisy of Magarska. It felt nice knowing there were allies of those of his people who would look out and know the lies as well as he did.

"Murad found himself in possession of hundreds of nobles and their families, officers and generals that once saw to the order and control of Wallachia. An army of controllable monsters just as capable as Wallachia had used to overthrow his grip over Tepes' people. The perfect weapon to counter Vladimer Tepes, but one that had been utterly bound by vows from ever being usable for that precise purpose." Evren nodded along before slowly coming to a stop.

Staring ahead into the white, black and blue stone of the palace masonry. The marbling in each like lightning in the night or roots in snow. Fizzbunches lifted his head from where he had been snuggling in for a nap." Murad is a fool precisely how most kings are, he could have let his ambition for Wallachia go, he could have sent his new army of blood drinkers south, or east, or even into the north of Viznove. Yet he, like most kings, would walk his nation into the ocean, for his own ambition."

Then he turned back and shifted around before settling in for a proper rumbling sleep. Tail settled over his nose, resembling little more than a black fur pauldron on Evren's right shoulder." He had you, the Wolf Prince, a tyrant all his own and another wyrm set upon meeting you and training you in what she knows. And she is even offering a deal of peace with the greatest threat to his Kingdom." There was a single menacing growl which hinted that Evren had stood shock still in a hallway just a bit too long.

He hurried to make his way back to his room." So of course stupid king that he is, Murad the Conqueror took an army at least as loyal to him as they were forbidden from attacking Wallachia and starved them to madness, then released them on his own lands." The cat offered a single unfeline scoff as they made their way into Evren's bedroom again." The prideful fool." Evren looked down at the blob of shining black fur on his shoulder then shook Fizzbunches off with a twist of his coils.

The wyrm strained to keep his tone light and unbothered by what he had just learned.

"Well then little advisor, what shall we do about this?"" Well young Shepherd, just what end would you like to see, of this king?"