The Pulver Chronicles – 27. That Hard-Headed Woman Of Mine

Jackson Pulver woke up in the afternoon, judging by the position of the sun and by his stomach’s grumbling. He had spent the night, once again, at the Unstrung Duke, though this time the room was free. Indeed, Jackson had been welcomed into the city of Atvello as a hero. That was one of the two reasons why he was so happy and full of vigor as he jumped out of bed. As to the other reason, it was in fact lying in bed next to him.

But… no, actually. The other reason seemed to have woken up earlier and left the room. Jackson hurriedly dressed up and ran down the stairs, spurned by the eagerness to find her, and a little by the irrational fear that he might have just imagined part of yesterday’s events. The latter was quickly dispelled when he saw her sitting at a table, a plate full of assorted meats facing her. The Goblin hostess was standing by her side, speaking with energy.

“I don’t want to abuse your hospitality,” Alizana said.

“Nonsense, my lady! We owe you this much. You and your warriors saved our city as well as our lives. Not to mention our possessions; these bandits would have taken everything, perhaps even set the building aflame. Ronyons!”

The Goblin shook a fist in the air as if the people she was cursing out were still here. Indeed, the previous night, as Alizana, Jackson and several hundred Hellhounds warriors had entered the city; having defeated the Hexacrat forces, they found that their job wasn’t completely done. While the bulk of the enemy armies were gone, there remained nearly a hundred stragglers inside the city’s walls. Having lost their commanders, they had turned into looters, seeking riches to steal and people to rob. On top of that, some of the locals had decided to take advantage of the chaos as well, and participate in the looting. On Alizana’s and Jackson’s orders, the Hellhounds had helped the militia bring order back to the streets. Most of the looting had taken place in Whitewood, though the other neighborhoods had had its share of pillage and ransacking; Goldfoam had been mostly safe, owing to its own private guards. It was very late in the night -or very early in the morning- when Jackson and Alizana had finally had the opportunity to get some badly needed sleep.

“Ah! And here is your valorous general,” the hostess said, spotting Jackson. “What would you like to eat, sire?”

“Err… Anything that can fill a stomach,” he said, taking a seat at Alizana’s table. “And some whiteberries, if you got any.”

“Most certainly.”

With a bow, she left for the kitchen.

Looking around, Jackson noticed the restaurant was entirely empty save for him and Alizana. He peeked at Alizana’s plate, and robbed her of a small bite of chicken meat. It was juicy and soft.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked her.

“Mostly well,” she said. “I’m not used to proper beds. So much softer than our cots. And the sheets are too thin to keep warm. Although I had something else for that…”

He smiled at her. Nothing had happened that night, aside for some light touching, as both had been far too tired. Jackson, in particular, had been so out of it he had barely been able to think straight. Now that he was fully rested, however, he could think again. And thinking led to worrying.

“Hey, uh… Can we talk?”

“About our next step?” Alizana said, still looking down at her plate. “Certainly. But I think we should have that talk with the leaders of the city before we decide anything.”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure. But I meant, um, can we talk about us?”

“Us?” She raised her head, one of her lupine ears dropping.

“Yeah… Like, what are we? To each other, I mean.”

Alizana smiled as she placed a big piece of beef between her fangs. “I thought I had made it clear yesterday night.”

“I mean, mostly,” he said, chuckling. “But all the same, I want to make sure we’re on the same level.”

“Would you like me to make this explicit?” He nodded. She closed her paw around his hand over the table, her eyes boring into his. “I want you to be my mate.”

A flush of heat reddened Jackson’s cheeks. “Wow. I thought you’d want to start by being boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“We’re a little past friends, don’t you think?” she said with a smile.

“No, I meant- Heh. Yeah, I guess we are. So what does being your mate mean? Am I gonna be a prized possession, like those pelts the hunters collect?”

“Some of my people treat their mates like that, it’s true,” Alizana said, the expression in her eyes clearly implying that she didn’t approve, though she didn’t openly condemn it either. “They take a mate like some would win a trophy. Some take mates solely to bear children. A means to an end, and nothing more. They are not our kind, and for some of my sisters that’s an insurmountable obstacle.”

Having come to know many Hellhounds of quite a few tribes, Jackson wasn’t surprised. While most were rather cosmopolitan and accepting, some continued to have issues with other peoples living among them. Jackson found that strange, however. You’d think a people that needs folks from other peoples to reproduce would be more open-minded.

“For me,” Alizana went on, “it means that you’re mine just as much as I’m yours.” Her clawed thumb rubbed the back of his hand. “It means that I wish to have you sleep in my tent, in my cot most nights. It means that I wish you to be by my side most days.”

“Only most days and most nights?”

“You’re not my servant, Jack.” She gnawed on a cow bone to clean off its last bits of meat. “I don’t expect to become your entire life.”

“Yeah? Bet you wouldn’t mind me getting on my knees before you.”

A smirk flashed on her face for a microsecond, accompanied by a strange light in her eyes. “Maybe not,” she said. A somber expression replaced the playful one, and, with a sigh, she added: “And we won’t have much available time anyway. I predict this war will keep us even more busy now.”

“Probably right about that, but…” He placed his other hand over her paw. “I promise that no matter what, I’ll make some time for you.”

Alizana’s smiles, Jackson thought, were akin to rainbows: a rare sight, appearing infrequently and only in particular circumstances, but definitely worth the wait. The one of her face right then was so bright and so genuine it completely absorbed Jackson, so much so that he didn’t even notice the hostess coming back and placing a plate and a bowl in front of him. He thanked her distractedly, and she bowed again before retreating to the kitchen. As she did, Jackson thought she saw her glare at his and Alizana’s joined hands, but it was so quick it might have been his imagination.

“You promise?” Alizana said.

“You bet I promise. I like you, Liz. Goddamn, “like” is not strong enough. I’m obsessed with you. I started obsessing about you before I even met you. It’s no wonder your people chose you as leader. You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re dedicated to your folk, and you’re a total badass. And you’re hot as fuck, too, that’s definitely a plus.”

She chuckled. “You have such a queer manner of talking. That and your accent…”

“I just, uh…” Jackson muttered, a little defensive. 

“I like that about you,” she said. Moving her head closer to his, she added: “I like quite a few things about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled unabashedly. “What things?”

“Well, let’s see…” Her paw moved from his hand to his forearm, then to his biceps. “You’re brave. One of the bravest persons I know, to the point where I wonder how much of that is valor, and how much is recklessness. You have worked tirelessly for the good of our people. In fact, I’d say you’ve done more over the past few months than many have in their lives.”

“Maybe I had more opportunities to do good,” Jackson humbly said.

“Then you certainly seized those opportunities. You’re a good-hearted man, devoted to helping others. You have helped us, not in trade for any reward, but because you believe it is the right thing to do. Do you know how rare that is, Jack?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of good people in this world.”

“Maybe my experiences have made me cynical, but I don’t think so.” She rubbed the muscles of his arm. “You’re also pretty well-built for a Human. That is, as you would say, a plus. And…” Her paw let go of his arm to grab his chin, turning his head towards hers. “You are “hot to fuck” as well.”

“I said “hot as fuck”,” he said, licking his upper lip.

“I prefer my saying,” she said with a grin.

The kiss that followed felt a bit better than the other, to Jackson, a bit more perfect. It was soiled by neither blood nor sweat, and the atmosphere was a tad more romantic than a battlefield littered with corpses. Alizana was still ravenous in the way she kissed him, as if she was trying to devour his lips, and the kiss grew more urgent as it went on. She broke it off after a few seconds, so suddenly Jackson let out a small whine.

“I had better stop here,” she said, her voice smoky.

“Something wrong?”

“If I go on,” she explained in a whisper, “I won’t be able to control myself.”

“So what?” he said, trying to kiss her again. “We’re in an inn. We literally got a room.”

“We have things to do today, Jack.” She grabbed his head with both her paws. “When it’ll happen… I won’t be satisfied with a short spot of fun. I’ll have you for hours, and I’ll not let you go until I’ve had my fill.”

“Goddamn,” Jackson whispered.

“Best be prepared, boy,” she said, playfully poking his nose with one claw.

“Oh, I’m prepared right no-”

The hostess had manifested herself, clearing her throat to get their attention. This time, there was no mistaking the expression of contempt on her face, mostly in her pursed lips as if she’d been made to drink something revolting. Evidently, she didn’t want that sort of display in her inn. Jackson had half a mind to tell her off, but it was indeed her inn. He and Alizana were guests here, sleeping and eating for free. They separated, and finished their meal in relative silence.

The marketplace of Atvello was unusually quiet as they went through it, headed towards the Seacrest Castle. Its stalls, usually bustling with activity, were nearly all closed. The people, it appeared, were busy repairing the damages incurred the previous days, dousing fires, replacing destroyed materials, and cleaning out debris. Militia members participated in the effort, at least those who weren’t busy patrolling the streets; the looting had almost entirely stopped now that the city was back under control, but several thieves still attempted to do what they did best. Three of them were in fact detained in gibbets on one of the main streets, exhibited to the public as both a punishment and a warning.

While it was far from unscathed, the city had fared through the siege without much damage. The fortifications had suffered the most, especially on the eastern side. The Inquisition fort outside had been burned to the ground, its soldiers having retreated into the city. In addition to the tower destroyed by the siege weapons, a second one had collapsed in the morning because of the structural damage, killing three people and injuring two. The eastern gate, also known as the Matron’s Gate, had been breached by the assailants; its wooden doors were destroyed beyond repair. Many of the houses located near the walls had also suffered. A few had collapsed, and at least half a dozen had suffered fire damage -and had it not been for the rain two days before, it would have been more. As to the casualties, they numbered no more than a hundred and fifty, although the count wasn’t done.

Overall, things could have been far worse for the free city. Its citizens certainly thought as much, judging by the welcome they had given the Hellhounds, in spite of the apprehension those large, unknown creatures had initially caused. There was even talk of a feast or a banquet of some sort, held in the honor of the unexpected saviors. Despite this, most of the Hellhounds had elected to sleep outside the city, in the camps built by the Hexacracy. This was in part because they were used to this sort of accommodation, and in part out of a desire not to burden Atvello’s citizens any further. Byron, ever the cynic, believed another factor in that decision was that the Hellhounds didn’t expect the locals’ welcoming attitude to last; once the victory’s elation would fade, he said, that attitude would turn into wariness: the Hellhounds were still strangers, after all. Weird, scary-looking strangers that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Jackson disagreed, although he certainly hoped the secret of the Hellhounds’ birth would not come out; it would do them no favors if people learned they had been created by an Archdemon.

On their way to the castle, Jackson and Alizana took a detour by the Silky Star borough, on the insistence of the former. Alizana cast him a strange look when she realized what kind of borough it was, but Jackson assured her his intentions were pure. His real destination was the Hazy Narrian. He was relieved to see the vondo parlor had not suffered much from either the siege or the looting. Jackson went to the back, and led Alizana to the headquarters of the Children of Nayros.

Marrmad was leaning above the table in the main room, reading over some documents and counting coins; he lifted his small head when he heard visitors arriving.

“Greenleaf?”

He abandoned his work and walked to him to shake his hand with energy.

“By all the gods, I did not expect to see you today. To be honest, I was half-expecting never to see you again. Though evidently I should have; you always had a knack for defying expectations.”

“Good to see you, Marrmad,” Jackson said. He looked around the empty room. “Where are the others?”

The Goblin pointed a thumb above his shoulder. “In the back. Argyro and Durnin are still recuperating from the battle, and Enita is tending to them. You should go see them.”

“I will. So you took part in the battle?”

“We most certainly did,” Marrmad said. “After all of their attempts to buy off the enemy had failed, the Gilded Council hired all the mercenaries they could to bolster Atvello’s defenses. They paid handsomely well.” He gestured to the piles of gold oxen and silver steeds on the table. “And aside from the coin, it was a given for me that I wouldn’t let my beloved city fall to the hands of the Archdemons, or any invader; Atvello and its people have been good to me.” He glanced at Alizana. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Greenleaf?”

“Greenleaf?” Alizana said, arching an eyebrow. “Is that what they call you here?”

“Right,” Jackson said. “Alizana, this is Marrmad, the guy who recruited me into the Children of Nayros. Marrmad, this is Alizana, leader of the Hellhounds.”

The Goblin gauged her for a second before extending his hand. “Well met. I understand you and your warriors are to be thanked for our victory.”

His hand disappeared in Alizana’s paw as she shook it.

“Well, as much of a pleasure as it is,” Marrmad said, “I have to go back to my task. My brother and sisters still await to split our gains, and I must calculate how much they are owed, taking into account their wounds.”

Jackson headed to the back. In one of the cots was Durnin, laying on his left side and holding his right shoulder. His face was ashen, his teeth clenching in intense pain. There was a large hematoma on his right cheek. Argyro was sitting on the ground, holding onto an untied, bloodied bandage on her leg. She had another, clean bandage in her other hand. Enita was kneeling beside her, preparing a yellow-green poultice with a mortar and a pestle.

“That will ensure the wounds do not fester,” Enita said as she applied the concoction with her hands. “It should help with the pain, as well.”

Argyro grumbled.

“Greenleaf is back!” Durnin called out. His voice was barely above a groan.

Jackson’s heart swelled at seeing them for the first time in months. They, too, seemed happy to see him. Durnin’s expression of pain was lightened up by a small smile. He made an effort to sit up to greet him, but Jackson insisted he stayed down.

“Hi, Durnin. What happened to you, man?”

“Stone debris from the wall fell on him,” Enita explained.

“Aye,” Durnin said. “Broke my shoulder. Damn near broke my neck, as well.” He grunted as he adjusted his arm’s position. “Bloody painful, but I’m alive.” 

“Argyro took two arrows to the thigh,” Enita said. “Oh, hello,” she added as Alizana entered the room after Jackson.

He introduced her again, to mixed reactions. Argyro was rather nonchalant as she nodded to her, Durnin greeted her happily, and Enita looked cagey, even intimidated by her. Jackson had a feeling that Alizana being over two feet taller than her was not the sole reason. He noticed a light in her eyes as they grew wide, as if something had popped up in her mind as she observed Alizana’s features. Then, he remembered Enita once mentioning that her journeys had taken her in the lands of the Hexacracy. Could she possibly know?…

Jackson shook his head. Doesn’t matter, he thought. Even if she knows, she won’t tell. The Children of Nayros know how to keep a secret. Plus, she owes her. Indeed, Enita kept quiet, although the apprehension in her expression didn’t quite fade. The other Children, soon joined by Marrmad who had finished his accounting, exchanged a bit with Alizana, mostly to thank her and congratulate her for her victory the day before. Alizana took their compliments with humility, stating that she mostly owed it to Jackson. She gestured at him as she said that.

“Wait, Jackson…” Marrmad said, frowning. Jackson realized this was the first time the Goblin heard his real name. “Jack-son.” He cursed under his breath. “You… Cunning Tewiz! You’re Mad Jack! The one I heard about.”

“You heard about me?”

“Why, certainly! Rumors are but one of the many things the traders bring to Atvello. People relay these rumors, in both high and low society. One story I’ve heard that caught my interest had to do with a locality known as Tinaun.”

“Ah,” Jackson said. “Yeah.”

“Apparently, the Hexacracy had tried to raid it. It was an ideal target: a prosperous little town surrounded by fertile lands, in the middle of the harvest, which had little in the way of defenses since the local marquess had died. And yet, it appears Nalyin had blessed the village, and not just with good crops, as the army sent to loot it was routed. The stories told were queer: terrifying creatures had come out of the woods to destroy them. And if you heard the description some gave of these creatures…! Giant furred monsters, with claws and fangs as long as fingers, with hide so thick arrows bounced off it, and burning eyes that could be seen in a moonless night…”

Jackson smiled at Alizana, who indulged in a small smirk.

“Queer stories indeed!” Marrmad went on. “And yet, there had been similar stories before, speaking of Hexacrat convoys and squadrons being destroyed, attacked by hairy savages. Some tales coming from the Marches in the north were even stranger: they spoke of gigantic wolves, maddened with hunger, who feasted on their prey while they were still alive.”

“There was no feasting,” Alizana retorted, visibly ticked. Realizing she had just revealed herself, she blushed a little, her cheeks turning a darker color.

“Also, we don’t do raids in the northern parts of the Marches,” Jackson said. “That’s too far away.”

“I see. Well, I suppose rumors are like echoes,” Marrmad said. “The further they spread, the more distorted they become. Anyway, yes, your reputation has reached Atvello, Mad Jack.”

“Wow. I didn’t even know I had a reputation. That’s pretty awesome.”

“And it should help us with the Council,” Byron said. “Speaking of which…”

“Right, yeah. Sorry to cut this short, guys, but we’re supposed to meet with the Gilded Council.”

“Of course you do,” Durnin chuckled. “Our Greenleaf has bloomed into a rich fruit.”

“Leaves don’t bloom,” Enita said, preparing another concoction in her mortar. “It was quaint to see you again, Greenleaf.”

“We’ll be staying in town for some time,” Jackson said. “Maybe we can hang out.”

“Of course,” Marrmad said. “We are still family.”

“Aye,” Durnin said. “And we each owe you a drink after yesterday.”

The Seacrest Castle had fared through the battle untouched. Said battle had taken place on the other side of town, which was a blessing, as the castle had not been built for war and likely would not have been able to withstand a lot of damage. In fact, on the castle grounds, it was as if there had never been any battle. The very next day, servants were already back at work in the gardens, cutting the grass, grooming the flowers, and tending to the trees; guards were patrolling the alleys, in the same numbers as usual. Judging by the smoke coming out of the chimneys, the kitchens were also quite busy.

Jackson had never seen the Round Room -so named for obvious reasons- where the Gilded Council congregated during their meetings. It was located at the center of the third floor, and was accessed through four doors. Symmetry appeared to be the rule in this room: said doors were located at the four cardinal points, seven seats were placed at equal distance from each other around the table, which was a perfect circle. The decorations on the walls had also been visibly placed along the lines of some elaborate calculations: every painting was the same size and hung at the same height, all four doors were framed by two mirrored statues identical to the last detail, and even the candle holders on the walls were parallel to the millimeter. The lightning was provided by a circular window on the ceiling, which looked to be the exact same size as the table, and of course was perfectly aligned with it. An effective way to make the whole room positively reek of money, Jackson thought.

The Prince Merchants were already gathered when they entered. Jackson immediately recognized Nechido, who was munching on a snack as he talked to his right-hand neighbor. Said neighbor was a tall fellow, glabrous and bald, dressed in tones of white and black. At first, Jackson found him deathly pale, but after a second look, he realized the Prince Merchant had white makeup covering his face and his neck. This was combined with some black underliner around his eyes and some sort of black lipstick in a vertical line over his mouth. A strange look, Jackson found, but one he had seen on occasion on Faithfull Hill.

On Nechido’s left side, busy playing with a deck of cards -some kind of tarot, Jackson guessed-, was a plump man with gray, balding hair topped by a purple bonnet. His face seemed too small for his head: a very small nose, two beady eyes, and a mouth that was barely more than a line with two very thin, pale lips. Similarly, his fingers seemed too small for his large hands; they were also surprisingly thick, and an unhealthy pink-red color.

Next to him was a fourth man, whom Jackson thought didn’t look much like a Prince Merchant and more like the romanticized image of a pirate captain. He was tanned and muscular, with a bearded chin ending in a curl, and long, wavy, black hair running past his shoulders. His clothes, while certainly just as expensive as those of the other Princes, were of a different style altogether. The other Prince Merchants dressed in a manner befitting a noble, but this one preferred accouterments that reminded Jackson of some sailors he had met on the docks: a light black frock coat with silver linings, brown leather boots (he had one of his feet on the table), and a profusion of golden jewelry on his fingers and his ears. But overall, it was his attitude that stuck out the most: he seemed laid back, amused, and detached, as if this meeting was to him some sort of mummers’ farce. Hilarity shone in his eyes as he talked to the last Prince Merchant, or rather, the Princess Merchant.

Lady Celine Henney affected a half-annoyed, half-indifferent expression while on the receiving end of what was evidently a very one-sided conversation. She would seldom acknowledge what was said to her with a nod or a monosyllabic interjection, but otherwise didn’t participate. She had changed her hairstyle since last time, now wearing her hair straight and unbraided, and hidden under a coiffe. Boredom could clearly be read in her eyes, but it went away as she glanced at the newly arrived Jackson.

“Our guests have arrived,” she said to the others.

The conversations stopped, and the assembly reported their attention to Jackson and Alizana -mostly Alizana. Nechido stood up, an affable smile stretching his lips.

“Indeed. A pleasure to meet with you, my lady. Jackson Pulver, I already know you, of course.”

“Hello, sir Nechido,” Jackson said, bowing his head.

“Please, sit down.” He extended one of his large hands towards the available seats.

And so they took their places, Jackson to the left of Henney, and Alizana to his left, to the right of Nechido. The seats were more like thrones, made out of gold-painted wood, and with red leather upholstering. It was large enough for Jackson, but Alizana had more difficulty sitting comfortably. Looking at her, he fought back a smile. The Hellhound leader looked completely out of place, with her roughly made hide armor, her height, her build, and her fur against this rich and curated background.

“Well, then,” Nechido said, sitting as well. “Before we begin, let me introduce the rest of the Gilded Council.”

He gestured at the man dressed in black and white next to him. “This is Sir Zenand Zedor.”

Zedor joined his hands before him, and bowed his head slightly.

“Here is Nol Devre,” Nechido said, pointing out the gray-haired man.

“How do you do,” Devre said. His voice was weak and low as if he had woken from a nap.

“To his left-”

“I’m quite capable of introducing myself, Voldus,” the fourth man said, twirling his beard’s curl. He smiled at Jackson and Alizana. “My name is Luccer Tharsams; they call me Lucky. Is it true you killed the Hexacrat captain in a duel?”

“Err, sort of,” Jackson said. “We met on the battlefield. It wasn’t really a duel.” Also, it wasn’t really me.

“But you did kill him,” Tharsams said. “So you are the Mad Jack they’ve been talking about, eh? From the stories, I’ve been picturing you differently.”

“You expected someone taller, I guess?”

Tharsams tilted his head a little. “No, the height is about right. But from the way the Hexacrat spoke of you, I expected someone more… malevolent-looking. Spikier hair, darker eyes… Sharper teeth and longer talons, mayhaps.”

He laughed, and Henney rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” Nechido said. “And finally, this is Celine Henney.”

“We have met before,” she said with a little smile. “A pleasure to see you again, Jackson.”

This little declaration lifted Devre’s barely discernible eyebrows, and solicited a half-smile from Tharsams. Nechido cleared his throat.

“Now that this is done, and unless someone has a specific subject they wish to bring up, I suggest we go directly to the main object of this extraordinary meeting.”

“Fine by me,” Tharsams said.

The other Prince Merchants agreed silently. Nechido turned to Alizana.

“Lady… Ah, I don’t believe I know your correct title,” he said.

“I have none,” she said. “Call me chieftain, if you need one.”

“Chieftain Shatter-the-Shields, Jackson Pulver, you have asked to meet with the Gilded Council, I assume to discuss a reward for saving our city and our lives.”

“We did that with no expectation of a reward,” Alizana said. Although we won’t say no to one, Jackson refrained from adding. “As a matter of fact, it is we who wish to make an offer.”

“Is that so?” Devre said. “What sort of offer?”

“An alliance,” Jackson said.

This had originally been Byron’s idea: to forge an alliance while the iron’s hot, as he said. Alizana saw the purpose of it and its advantages immediately.

“An alliance, eh?” Nechido said. “Do go on.”

“The Southern Marches are at war,” Alizana said. “All of them are at threat of being invaded and conquered by the Hexacracy. This has been true for months, yet so far, each march has been fighting for its own, either because they’re convinced that they can defend themselves just fine, or because they don’t trust their neighbors.”

“A justified distrust, evidently,” Henney said. “Quite a few marquesses have taken advantage of the situation to their own ends. And that’s without accounting for those who bowed before the Hexacracy.”

She was right. The rumor Jackson had heard a while ago, that a marquess had seized the opportunity created by the invasion to invade a neighboring march, had proven true. This, of course, had increased mistrust between the marches, and led some already existing tensions to explode into open conflict. Jackson could hardly believe that several marquesses could be so stupid or so power-hungry or both to waste their forces on conquering other marquesses’ fiefs, even as the Hexacracy’s shadow was looming over their own lands.

“Right, but things have to change,” Jackson said. “The Hexacracy is playing for keeps. Uh, I mean, this threat is serious. There is no way we can stop them from taking the whole Southern Marches unless we unite as many marches as possible and fight them together.”

“That much is clear,” Zedor said. “And so you wish to build such a union, using Atvello as a starting point?”

“Actually, our starting point was the town of Tenaun,” Alizana said.

“Ah!” Tharsams said. “So you were behind that, as well. Quite the reputation you’ve built yourself. You’re an ambitious one. We have that in common.”

“Uh, yeah, it was us,” Jackson said. “It’s a mutually beneficial deal: we offer protection, Tenaun offers supplies.”

“Are you proposing the same deal to us, then?” Henney said. “I can imagine you’d be able to thwart raids, even push back the occasional army, but I doubt you have the strength to truly protect us from the Hexacracy in the long run. If they try to take our city again -which is plausible-, I imagine they’ll bring more armies. Can your numbers equal theirs?”

“No, not even close,” Jackson said, repeating Byron’s words. “But that’s not what we’re proposing. Atvello has money. We have strength, but strength alone cannot win a war. Neither can money. We need weapons, armor, horses, food… Enough to last for however many months or years this war will last. We have proven that we are willing and able to take on the Hexacracy. If you work with us, we can convince others that we have a chance to win this war, and to join our alliance.”

“You’re proposing that we fund your war against the Hexacracy,” Nechido said. “We provide the gold, and you the iron.”

“Our war against the Hexacracy,” Alizana said.

“But yes, that’s it in a nutshell,” Jackson said.

“Such an expense would be… not unsubstantial,” Zedor said. “And trade is already dwindling.”

“Well, think of it as an investment,” Jackson said. “You’d be paying to protect your profit margin in the long term. I mean, if the Hexacracy takes the Southern Marches, you can kiss your trade goodbye. Goddamn, you can kiss your Council goodbye.”

“It’s a risky investment, then,” Devre retorted. “Unless you can guarantee victory.”

Tharsams chuckled. “A risky investment? But certainly! We haven’t built our fortunes by being careful. We have built them by taking risks. So why not this one?”

“You haven’t built your fortune,” Henney said, calmly tapping her long nails on the table. “Your brother and your father did. You only inherited it after they both passed.”

Tharsams’ attitude changed faster than Jackson could say “yikes”. His nonchalance and his amused detachment dropped, replaced by a mixture of offense and shock. He didn’t look the least bit like a pirate now, and more like a noble’s kid who had been insulted by a commoner. Henney didn’t so much as glance at Tharsams, but Jackson thought he saw a smirk appear on her lips for a brief moment.

“Might I suggest we keep on topic?” Zedor said. “Let us keep this discussion away from… personal matters.”

“I agree,” Nechido said, wiping his hands in a handkerchief after finishing his snack. “Devre raises a good point: can you guarantee that your alliance will triumph against the Hexacracy?”

Jackson almost felt Byron rolling his eyes at that question; a good thing the veteran wasn’t controlling his body. Guarantee? Jackson heard him think.

“It’s hard to guarantee anything in a war,” Jackson explained, relaying the veteran’s thoughts -and cleaning them up somewhat. “Except this: on your own, you cannot win.”

“I do not mean to be pessimistic,” Devre said, “but I doubt that uniting the Southern Marches would give you enough military power to engage the Hexacracy on an equal level. Even if you managed to unite all of the Marches, which, well, I doubt as well.”

Zedor nodded in agreement. “Indeed. The Hexacrat armies, if our intelligence reports are to be believed, outnumber the entire South’s armies two, perhaps three to one. And that was before several marches joined them. Unless your… people have greater numbers hidden somewhere?”

“And that’s without accounting for their fleet,” Henney said, “which by the way has caused our merchant ships quite a lot of grief.”

“You all make valid points,” Jackson said. “But you have forgotten an important factor.”

“Which is?” Nechido said.

“The Eastern Empire,” Alizana said.

“That’s right,” Jackson said. “They are the Hexacracy’s real enemy, down here in the Southern Marches.”

“True,” Nechido said. “Their long-time rival. But the Hexacracy outnumbers them in the South as well, from what we understand. Not by much, I’ll give you, but still enough to worry the Imperials.”

“And the Hexacracy’s use of the Forbidden Arcanes will give them an edge, no doubt,” Zedor said, the corners of his lips curling down.

“Again, you only see a part of the problem,” Jackson said. “With our alliance, the Hexacracy will have to both face the Empire, and deal with us nabbing at their rearguard. How long do you think the Archdemons can fight on two fronts before they decide that the Southern Marches are just not worth it?”

“An interesting strategy,” Henney said. “But, not to appear ungrateful, if the Empire is to do the bulk of the warring, why shouldn’t we ally with them instead of you?”

The question was a bait, so was the honey in her voice. No matter: Jackson had anticipated that objection. And yes, it was Jackson himself who had anticipated it, not Byron. Well, the veteran had of course seen it coming, but Jackson had not needed him to figure out how to counter it. In addition, Byron suggested that Henney wasn’t truly arguing against the idea of an alliance. She was playing Devil’s advocate, he believed, orienting the conversation so that Jackson would offer the arguments that she felt could best convince the Council. Jackson, as to him, thought she might just be playing again.

“You could, but there’s a key difference between us and the Empire.”

“Please enlighten us,” Henney said.

“We don’t plan on conquering the Southern Marches,” Jackson said.

Devre hummed, and Nechido rubbed his double chin.

“The Empire has made it clear they want the Marches back -the South, as they call it,” Jackson continued. “All of it, if possible. Every village, every town, every city. If you go to them for protection, it’s not an alliance between equals they’ll offer you: it’ll be vassality. I doubt you want that.”

“Possibly not,” Henney said. “But surely there will be room for negotiations. Given the strength of the enemy and the significance of this war for the Empire, Damian III may want Atvello’s aid even if it means recognizing its status as a free city.”

“You think the Emperor will negotiate with you as equals?” Alizana intervened. “People of power, be they Archdemons or Emperors, never treat anyone as their equals. The Emperor wants the Southern Marches, all of them. To him and his nobles, Atvello is just a wayward subject that needs to be brought back into the fold.”

Her voice was dripping with bitterness and contained anger, as it often was when she spoke of rulers, especially nobles. Given her past experiences with that kind of people, it wasn’t surprising. Jackson sneakily placed a hand on her knee, below the table. He understood her anger, and sympathized with it, but they needed to keep a cool head for the sake of the negotiations.

“One of the previous Emperors recognized our independence,” Devre said. “He signed a treaty and affixed his own seal upon it.”

“One Emperor has recognized your independence, and only because the situation gave him no better choice,” Alizana said. “Things have changed, and the Empire is growing powerful again. Do you really believe a piece of paper will stop the Emperor from getting what he wants?”

“You say Damian III would besiege us in turn?” Zedor said.

“No, probably not,” Jackson said. “I don’t think he’d violate a treaty unless he absolutely has to. That would put him in a difficult position in future negotiations. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t have to besiege you. He can simply decide to favor other trading hubs, empower your competition at your expense. Strangle your economy until you agree to his terms. Or even better: he can just not lend you and your trading ships any military assistance until you bend the knee and kiss his ring, claiming his fleet is too busy elsewhere -protecting more loyal allies. Do you think the Hexacracy won’t try to take your city again as soon as they smell weakness, even if you throw in with the Empire?”

Devre’s and Tharsams’ reactions showed he had made his point.

“At the end of the day,” Jackson continued, “you’d need the Empire more than the Empire would need you. Not a good basis for an alliance.”

“How are you different in that regard?” Nechido asked.

“As I said, we don’t want the Southern Marches. We’re not conquerors. All we want is to survive and protect our independence, same as you. Through this war, we will actually need you as much as you need us. That’s why we will treat you as our equals.”

“That’s why we will be faithful allies,” Alizana opined. “You are Prince Merchants. Surely you see that this is a mutually beneficial deal, one that neither party has any interest in breaking.”

“What of our ships?” Henney said. “I don’t suppose you have a war fleet to protect them.”

“With our forces to protect you and your traders on the land,” Alizana said, “you’ll be able to focus on the sea. You could hire some C’fan privateers not just to escort your ships, but to harass the Hexacracy. That should protect your trade lanes.”

Jackson smiled at her. Even though by her own admission she had never received a truly formal education, she still knew how to talk to the upper crust of society, and how to sway them with her words. The Prince Merchants, who at first had looked at her with that same note of fear many had in their eyes when seeing Hellhounds for the first time, now seemed mollified. Nechido was even smiling again, with his usual bon vivant smile, and the rest of the Gilded Council seemed content. The rest, that is, except for one.

“This is all well and good,” Zedor said. “But there is still something of an issue here. Something I’d wish to see clarified.”

“What’s that?” Jackson said.

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes planted in Alizana’s.

Jackson glanced at the both of them, dumbfounded. “Err… She’s Alizana, our leader. You know her as Shatter-the-Shields. What do you-”

“My question does not pertain to her identity, but rather to her nature,” Zedor explained.

“My nature,” Alizana said with a frown, her lids falling halfway over her glowing orange eyes. “What does my nature have to do with this?”

“You are asking us to place our fates and our coin in your hands; you are asking us to trust you. But we don’t know who you are. Or what you are.”

“You know we are at war with the Hexacracy and are willing to take the fight to them. What more do you need to know?”

“I’ve never seen creatures such as your people,” Zedor said, joining his hands under his chin and leaning forward. “Never heard of you, either. Are you from the Southern Marches?”

“Are Humans from the Southern Marches?” Alizana retorted. “We live there, that’s all that matters.”

“We don’t even know what to name you. Are you Werewolves? Some of those High Kobolds from the Forlorn Islands?”

Seeing the tension in Alizana’s lupine ears, Jackson decided to intervene. “What’s with the twenty questions? When you hire mercenaries, do you always ask them what they are, where they’re from, and whatnot? Alizana’s right: all that matters is that we’re going to fight the Hexacracy with you. For you, even. You’ve seen us in battle, you know what we’re made of. Beyond that, who cares? And what about me? Are you gonna ask me where I’m from, who my parents were? Are you gonna test my blood? Maybe I’ve got some Elven heritage or something.”

He quickly and -he hoped- discreetly glanced at Nechido. The fat Prince Merchant repressed a chortle, then turned to his colleague and said:

“The man is right, Zedor. Your questioning is both intrusive and irrelevant to these discussions. We don’t care if these warriors come from the bottom of the ocean or from the depth of the Great Blazes. We only care what they want and what they offer, and they have told us that. In fact, I believe we have heard enough now to make a decision.”

“I agree,” Henney said.

“I agree also,” Devre said.

Zedor leaned back in his chair. “Very well, then.”

“Now, if you would please leave us the room,” Nechido told Jackson and Alizana. “The Council will deliberate. One of my servants will contact you once we have reached a decision. I would ask that you please remain on the castle’s grounds until then. Should you feel hungry or thirsty, do not hesitate to ask a servant for drinks or food.”

“Thank you for hearing us,” Jackson said as he stood up to take a bow.

“Of course,” Henney said, getting out of her seat and offering Jackson her hand. “An audience was the very least we owed to our saviors.”

Jackson hesitated a little, then kissed her hand. As he did, he noticed that she had discreetly ungloved it before offering it. The dark glint in Alizana’s eyes informed him that she had noticed that as well. Henney gave him a little smile full of meaning, and Alizana a quick glance, then went back to her seat.

Alizana gave a quick bow as well. Jackson knew that the Hellhounds were not fond of bowing and curtsying; generally speaking, they frowned upon everything that denoted a hierarchy, or worse yet submission. Byron had in fact given up on getting them to salute their Longclaws or their Sharpfangs. The two of them left the Round Room, and decided to hang around the gardens. They sat on a wooden bench under a belvedere, enjoying the sight and the scent of the ocean. A servant approached them to enquire about their needs; Alizana asked for some food, and was given a hamper of fruits.

“I’d say that went well,” Jackson said as she devoured a pear in two bites. “You think they’re gonna go for it?”

Alizana took a big bite out of an apple before answering. “Aye, I think so. Your friend’s idea is a good one. I admit, at first I had my doubts, but…” She looked around her. “Uh, is he here with us right now?”

“No. As soon as the meeting with the Gilded Council was over, he left.”

“Where does he go when he isn’t there?”

“I… I don’t know, actually,” Jackson said, picking an apple in the hamper. “Sometimes, he says he takes a break so he can think.”

“Hmm, yes. From what you told me of him, his mind always seems full of thoughts, many of them unhappy.”

“Yeah. He hasn’t had an easy life. And he’s probably the most cynical guy I’ve ever met. Well, at least, that’s what I used to think. But ever since he’s decided to help us in our war, he’s been different. More idealist, more optimistic. Hell, I’m pretty sure I saw him smile once.”

Jackson scratched his two o’clock shadow. “No, on second thought, he hasn’t been different, I don’t think. He’s just showing me another aspect of him. One that’s always been here.”

One I knew was always there, he thought with a smile.

“Is that so?” Alizana said. “He showed me no such aspect on the rare occasions I spoke to him.” She sniffed. “It was so queer. I was speaking to you, and yet not to you at the same time. It was your appearance, your scent, yet you were subtly different in the way you talked and behaved. Even your facial expression was different.” She picked another fruit, but hesitated before eating it. “Wait. Was he here when we…”

“When we kissed?” Jackson said, feeling his cheeks blush. “No. He always leaves me some space when… You know, in those moments.”

“Hmm. That is decent of him. Although, as far as I’m concerned, he’s free to watch if he wants.”

“Seriously?”

Alizana shrugged. “We Hellhounds generally don’t mind our privacy so much when it comes to having a bit of fun with our mates.” She smirked. “As you may have noticed.”

Indeed, Jackson had noticed that, especially when he went to visit other tribes. Hellhounds seemed to… well, to really enjoy the outdoors. It was as if they had no concept of modesty. On the contrary: some seemed to like showing off their mates and their… prowess. This made sense, in a way, for a people used to living in community and sharing everything -yet at the same time retained a sense for competition. And speaking of sharing, Jackson had discovered that some Hellhounds actually shared their mates with their closest friends. This wasn’t usually a form of polyamory: the Hellhounds who did that were often the ones who only took a mate for one or several nights, or those who treated mates like trophies, as Alizana had said. It was less like sharing a lover and more like sharing a good wine, in actuality. Conversely, other Hellhounds would on occasion fight over such treasured mates -more as a point of pride than anything else-, but that was rarer.

“Well…” Jackson scratched his ear. “I suppose I don’t mind much either. Wouldn’t be the first time, actually. But Byron most definitely will mind. And it would make things weird between us, I guess.”

As he spoke, Alizana decided to sit closer to Jackson. The young man responded by placing an arm over her shoulders. His fingers played with the fur on her arm as he gazed at her face, taking in her beauty both feminine and lupine. Alizana contemplated the horizon, her nose twitching as she enjoyed the iodine in the air. She looked peaceful, even serene. Minutes passed in silence.

“It is so beautiful here,” she said.

“Sure is. Quiet, too.”

Like there isn’t a war going on, he thought, but that felt too cliché to say out loud. And it wasn’t quite true, either: Jackson only had to turn his head left to see the city walls and be reminded of the war.

He looked at Alizana for a few more seconds before he could no longer contain himself. He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her lips. She smiled, and turned her head to kiss him back. His hands quickly seeked her curves, and she returned the favor. Her fur was warm, and thick enough that his fingers got lost in it. He decided to find out whether the fur on her tail was just as warm. And it was; a lot softer too, although it had many knots. Jackson entertained a little dream of brushing it as he caressed it, starting at the end. Alizana quivered when he reached the base, then grabbed his chin.

“Careful there, Human,” she said, chuckling darkly.

“Where?” he asked innocently. “You mean here?”

He repeated the motion, with a bit more strength in his fingers. Another quiver ran through Alizana’s body, making her claws twitch almost threateningly. Jackson’s other hand sneaked under her top; the fur of her back was raised.

“You’re going to regret this,” she said. Her voice was a growl, but with a noticeable note of amusement, and a hint of… something else.

“You promise?” Jackson retorted.

Her long tongue, poking out of her mouth and running alongside his throat, made him another promise altogether. Her paws fidgeted a little as she unbuttoned his shirt, her mouth peppering kisses on the skin she exposed. Jackson moaned. Her lips and her tongue were even warmer than her skin and her fur.

“Here?” he said, glancing around.

“You started it,” she said.

“Fair enough.”

Jackson leaned back against the wooden bench as Alizana bent down, taking care of his pants just like she had his shirt. He gasped and flinched when the most sensitive part of his anatomy was revealed, only for the Hellhound to tease and brush it with her lips. Groaned swears dripped from his lips as his entire body heated up; it was like the warmth of her mouth was spreading inside him.

Alizana’s lupine ears perked up as she descended on him. With a stroke of her tongue, she sent an electric shock all through him, making his muscles tense up and his teeth clench; he almost bit his tongue.

“All right, all right,” he said to himself, taking deep breaths to avoid losing control. “Holy shit. All right…”

The trance she had placed him in was abruptly broken when he heard the sound of footsteps coming their way. He straightened up on his seat, looking for their origin. Alizana didn’t stop what she was doing, although Jackson had no doubt that she had heard them too, with her superior sense of hearing.

“Hey, I know what I said-” He was interrupted by another stroke of her tongue. “Hng. I know what I said about doing it in public, but maybe we should stop? That’s probably the guy coming to tell us- oh, FUCK!”

His shout disturbed a few seagulls, who flew away screaming their displeasure. Jackson was half-correct in his assessment: the person was indeed coming to them, but it wasn’t a guy. It was Henney. Alizana agreed to stop, removing herself mere seconds before the Princess Merchant appeared. The Hellhound sat back on the bench, her face showing no embarrassment, and no surprise either. Jackson put on his pants as fast as he could.

Henney’s face was empty of all emotion as she stood next to the belvedere, to the point where Jackson had an uncanny feeling by looking at her. Her voice was similarly void of any inflection when she spoke:

“The Council has made its decision.”

“That was fast,” Alizana said.

“Yes,” Henney said. “Well, it was an easy decision to make, once all was said and done.”

“And what did they decide?” Jackson asked, pushing past the awkwardness.

The Princess Merchant looked at him, then at Alizana, and answered: “They will tell you. Come with me, please.”

There was a noticeable stiffness in her step as she led them back to the castle; it was as if her back had turned to ice. She didn’t speak a word, either.

“So… You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jackson whispered to Alizana.

“Wasn’t well done of me,” she confessed. “But she got on my nerves.”

“I get that, but please be careful. We need her support too.”

She nodded sharply.

“By the way,” he added, “you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Jackson felt a knot in his stomach as he walked back in the Round Room. Henney had deliberately kept him in the dark about the decision the Council had reached, no doubt as petty revenge against Alizana. He was reasonably confident they would agree to his proposal, but all the same a part of his mind couldn’t keep from drawing conjectures on what would happen if they didn’t. Things would certainly be more difficult for the Hellhounds. For one thing, their alliance would be harder to sell without Atvello in it. And without the merchant city’s funds, the Hellhounds would have to continue looting Hexacrat convoys, which would no doubt prove riskier from then on.

He had barely taken his seat that Nechido said:

“We’ll not keep you in suspense. The Gilded Council has decided to accept your offer for an alliance.”

Jackson sighed in relief, and smiled at Alizana.

“There will be a lot of details to iron out, certainly,” the fat man continued, “but the bulk of it we’ll be discussed at a later date. We both have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Thank God, Jackson thought. I so don’t feel like negotiating for hours; or taking a back seat while Byron does it, I guess. He’s got a lot more experience with that kind of thing.

The only thing he felt like doing at the moment involved Alizana, her tent, and lots of fluids to avoid dehydration.

“In the meantime, we propose that we seal that alliance with a mutual gesture.”

“What sort of gesture?” Alizana said.

“The battle has cost us quite a few militiamen, and it will be a while before we can replenish our ranks. We need to be able to defend ourselves and our caravans in the meantime.”

“So you want us to lend you some soldiers?” Jackson said.

“We would be most appreciative, yes. In turn, we would grant you coin, coming directly from our respective treasuries. Think of it as both a contribution to the war effort, and as a personal token of thanks from the Prince Merchants.”

And as a down payment for our services, I guess, Jackson thought with amusement. He glanced at Byron, standing between him and Alizana. The veteran gave a nod.

“This is acceptable,” Alizana said. “As of now, we can spare… Eighty warriors. Can you house them?”

Nechido rubbed his fat chin. “Ah… Housing could be an issue at the moment. Some of our citizens have already lost their homes. And the militia’s garrisons have been turned into field hospitals.”

“What about the Hexacrat camps outside?” Devre said. “They can be repaired, and their tents replaced.”

“They could be used as counter-castles of sorts,” Zedor said. “In the event of another siege.”

“You’re saying you have no room for my warriors inside the city walls?” Alizana said with a frown. “Or is it that you prefer to keep them outside?”

“Not at all, chieftain Shatter-the-Shields,” Nechido said. “But like we said, Atvello is in a bit of a situation right now.”

“Ah, come off it,” Alizana said, irritated. “The houses will be rebuilt, the wounded in the field hospitals will heal. And you have inns. There are ways to house our people inside.”

Some of the Prince Merchants looked at each other; none of them said anything.

“Whoa… You really don’t want them here,” Jackson said. “You don’t trust them? How is our alliance supposed to work if there’s no trust?”

“It is not about that,” Nechido said.

“Well, what is it, then?” Alizana inquired, anger tensing her jaw.

“It’s the citizens,” Henney said.

“What about them?”

“Your people are strangers to them,” the Princess Merchant explained. “To us as well, but we have decided to leave that aside for the sake of our combined interests; the Atvellans may not be quite so understanding. Furthermore, you are fearsome strangers. You’ve come out of nowhere, beastly folks clad in animal skin, and torn an entire army apart. Our citizens are civilized, not superstitious peasants who pray to stones for good weather. But all the same, emotionality as well as irrationality is part of their nature. It is part of everyone’s nature, I’m afraid.”

Bitterness tainted Jackson’s tongue. Is that bitch smiling? He turned to Alizana, expecting a heated repartee -he himself was close to calling Henney a few names-, but she merely answered:

“I understand. The outside camps will have to do, then. I expect my warriors to be given everything they need, however. Food, building materials, clothing…”

“Naturally,” Nechido said. “After all, it is in our best interest that they be as battle-ready as possible.”

“Is there anything else to discuss?” Alizana said, her voice strangely devoid of tone.

“Not today, I don’t think.” The large man silently queried his peers, but they had nothing to add either. “Very well. The meeting is adjourned.”

Everyone retired from the room. Alizana briskly walked down the hallway, down the stairs, then out of the castle, so fast Jackson could barely keep up.

“Hey. Hey, Liz! Wait up!”

She only slowed down halfway through the Goldfoam district.

“I’m sorry about this,” Jackson said. “And I’m sorry she said those things. I guess that’s her way of getting back to you-”

“She was right,” Alizana said.

“Huh?”

“We are strangers, here. Not just in the city, but in the entire Southern Marches. I see it in people’s eyes. The Humans, the Demons… Even the Elves in Vertrisia. They distrust us. They fear us. It was like that in the Hexacracy too.” She chuckled without humor. “When I brought my people here, I thought it would be different. That we could have a place of our own. How foolish. We are as unwelcome here as we were in the Hexacray.”

“Hey, come on, now,” Jackson said, holding her paw. “It’s not all bad. Sure, there’s some cageyness, and, yeah, there’s some fear too. But that’s not all there is. Did you forget the Humans and Demons that have joined us? Some have followed you all the way from the Hexacracy. Hell, some have become tribemates. There’s even some Elven tribes fighting alongside us, and it’s not just because we have a common enemy. And with this alliance we’re building, there’ll be more. Okay, there’ll still be some fear and distrust, but then again there’s fear and distrust against Humans, or Demons, or even freaking Goblins. Yet they still all have a place here.”

He rubbed the back of her paw with his thumbs. The gloom in Alizana’s expression slowly faded.

“In time, it’ll get better, I promise.” He lowered his voice. “And if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t fear I felt when I saw you for the first time.”

Finally, her eyes lightened up, and Jackson felt as if he had won a thousand battles like the one the day before.

“Same goes for Seth, by the way,” he continued. “That guy likes you.”

“I’ve noticed,” Alizana said.

“Do you like him?”

“I like you. I believe we just talked about that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He kept prodding her, in part to change the subject, in part to tease, but she kept eluding. The two of them elected to stay in Atvello at least one more night. The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to gathering the troops and the materials, and to debrief the officers. Jackson left Alizana in the evening to go back to the House of the Living Flame in order to recover every single one of his possessions left there. He once again thought of the weapons cache in the forest, near the ruins of the fallen necromant’s castle. This might be the best opportunity to go get them, he thought, as they were less than a day of travel for Atvello. Yes, but he couldn’t remember the path. Maybe he could ask the cartographers’ guild; he had a rough idea of the location, and there couldn’t be many castles around, could there? No matter the case, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

As the night fell, the Hellhounds gathered for a ceremony dedicated to their fallen in a plain some distance away from the battlefield. In total, fifty-seven warriors had fallen in battle the day before, and another one had died of her wounds the next morning. The vast majority of the dead were Hellhounds, but four Demons and one Human were also among the casualties. The wounded numbered over a hundred, but with the help of several of Atvello’s best healers, none of them were at risk of losing life or limb.

The ceremony was rather informal, owing to the Hellhounds’ lack of definite traditions. Part of it was in fact improvised. The dead were placed in their graves, then their tribemates would give a small speech in their memory, usually by telling stories of their lives and what they meant for their tribes. The tribemates would then howl to the starry sky, while two Hellhounds would cover the bodies with dirt. Some drank, some cried, some sang; most of the people opted to remain silent.

The graves were mere circles of stones. Jackson had suggested creating tombstones, with at the very least the names of the dead carved on them. He had only then realized that nearly all of the Hellhounds were illiterate -and those who weren’t barely knew the Hellian alphabet. It made so much sense Jackson felt stupid for not realizing it sooner: illiteracy was the rule in this world, and he already knew the Hellhounds had never been given a formal education by their former masters. Even Alizana didn’t know how to write her own name. Jackson thought of creating some kind of stele back in the Vertrisian Forest, on which he himself would carve the name of the fallen.

A tribe chieftain organized an impromptu feast with the food and drinks looted in the Hexacrat camps. Several campfires were built. The warriors stayed up most of the night, drinking and singing. They celebrated their victory and mourned their dead, and after a few drinks simply feasted for the sake of feasting. Inspired by the mood and uninhibited by the alcohol, several couples absconded -or stayed right where they were, but no longer paid attention to their surroundings. Having had three beers himself, Jackson turned to Alizana. 

Without exchanging a single word, the two of them stood up and left hand in paw. They fled to the top of a hill, from which they had a good view of both the feast, the city, and the ocean. Jackson once again looked at Alizana, trying to think of something both romantic and inappropriate to say. But speaking was overrated, he soon decided, as Alizana pushed him -nearly threw him- down on the grass and began taking his armor, then his clothes off, her paws shaking with urgency. Within seconds, their lips met, followed by their bare skins. And finally, Jackson witnessed what he had dreamed of for so long. He got a great showing, in fact, as it turned out Alizana preferred to be on top. At least, the first two times. The fourth and fifth times, as well.

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