Atop an over hanging cliff, two cloaked figures peered down into the ravine below, which looked like the result of some giant hand scooping out a chunk of earth. Despite the heavy downpour, the faint glow of torches was still visible to the unknown observers. The column of mounted riders trudged on, from above, nothing more than a parade of ants, rallying mindlessly behind the beck and call of their superiors. A hive mind, each rank and file soldier unwavering in their faith of their betters.
Scanning along the columns, one of the figures' keen eyes noticed several things all at once. Horses' hooves sticking in the soft ground, the occasional rider thrown from their saddle. Near the back lines, a few servants desperately tried to free a baggage cart when one of its back wheels caught and stuck in the mud.
Even from their position so far above the troubles of the war party, the two could just faintly hear the abuse the carriage driver was hurtling at the slaves.
"This storm's slowed them down significantly." The voice, soft-spoken, but appealing, belonged to the shorter of the two.
The taller figure did not deign to reply, instead giving a guttural grunt to signal he had heard. Fixing his gaze on a horse racing towards the front, he studied the rider's matte gray armor, muddy velvet cloak, and green crest and concluded the man was indeed the messenger that had been dispatched. If his sources were right, and they always were, that messenger was heading towards the platoon's supply commander.
"Do you suppose they're going to continue their march?" The female inquired, reaching up and gently rolling down the mask that covered the lower half of her face. Lifting a pointed, sand colored muzzle towards the sky, she gave a few sniffs of the air. "Seems like it's going to continue raining for a couple more days. Three at most. If they were smart, they'd turn back now and continue when this storm passes..."
"Then again, I doubt they'd let a little rain stop them. I'll admit, the Templars don't lack in ambition." She added, almost as an afterthought.
Again, a grunt, but no sound other than that.
"Sooooo..." she drawled lazily, "How much longer do you think Freyja is going to be?"
Silence.
Spinning on her heel, she jabbed a gloved finger none too gently into the man's ribs, a less than amused look on her face.
"Don't think I don't know what's going on inside your head, amadán. You try it and I'll drag you back to camp by your cloak."
The threat was somewhat lost considering the size difference between the two, but the man took it to heart either way, fully aware of how serious his companion was.
Turning to face her, their eyes met and the showdown began. His shrewd, steel gray eyes battling for supremacy over her gentle, pleasant violet ones.
After what seemed like minutes, the man relented, as he had so many times before. To anyone else, the man's face would have been utterly expressionless, but the woman could make out a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Alright Sev, I surrender. How can I argue when you look at me like that?"
Beneath her hood, Severa's ears pricked up like they always did whenever Caderyn actually spoke. Severa had always found Caderyn's low, husky voice to be rather soothing...and maybe, admittedly, a little attractive. But she sure as hell wasn't going to ever admit that to him.
"Smart choice." Severa muttered, glad it was too dark for her friend to see the slight redness that had crept to her face.
"In all seriousness though," Severa snapped her head back to look at Caderyn, who had adopted a calculating look, "I'm positive they're going to continue their march. Even with the occasional wolf raids, their numbers are still substantial and their supplies should last a few months, more so if they ration. They're too far out of friendly territory to turn back, which will only result in more casualties for no success. What's more-"
"Alright Caderyn, I get it." Severa groaned, punching him lightly in the arm for emphasis. Caderyn wasn't the most talkative fellow, but get him going about tactics and strategy and, well...Severa would have a better chance at stopping the whole Templar army by herself.
"Right. Sorry. Hmm...if only I could disrupt their chain of command somehow...perhaps take out their higher ups..." Caderyn trailed off, lost in thought.
"Hey!" Severa snapped louder than she meant to, but if Caderyn was startled, he didn't show it. "Remember what you promised. We aren't going to get involved with this unless absolutely necessary. Besides..." Severa trailed off into a mutter.
Caderyn tilted his head, internally wishing he had the hearing capabilities of a Keidran. "Come again?"
"Never mind, it doesn't matter." Severa sighed, both outwardly and to herself. She'd almost let slip that she couldn't bear the thought of Caderyn killing anymore, but such protection was stupid and childish. They weren't children anymore, and she had enough faith in her friend that he wouldn't go back to being...that way, again.
Severa was so lost in thought, she audibly yipped when she felt something fall upon her head. It was only then that she realized Caderyn was resting his hand on her head, right between her ears. Looking up at him, she silently cursed him as her tail began wagging back and forth uncontrollably.
Wish I could control that damn thing.
"Don't worry Severa, we'll be fine." Caderyn muttered quietly. Another small smile played across his lips, partly out of encouragement, but mostly because he had noticed Severa's tail reeking havoc under her cape.
Truthfully, Caderyn had always found that Severa's tail wagging whenever they made contact rather cute. But he would never tell her that...at least, not without dying from embarrassment.
That is, assuming Severa didn't get to him first.
"Listen carefully," the Templar Chamberlain, André Frey, said brusquely to the reeves that surrounded him. "I'm going to give you new instructions."
His subordinates froze in anticipation.
"I would like to point out, gentlemen," he began, "that what you heard before does not pertain to you. From here on out, you will be following different orders. My orders."
André shook his cloak, spraying water in all directions before wiping his forehead. Glancing uncertainly to the side, he recoiled slightly at the sight of a crow perched on one of the baggage carts.
"What in the..." he muttered to himself. Crows weren't an uncommon sight in these parts by any means, but normally would not be so bold to get this close to humans.
Perhaps one of the soldiers brought it along as pet? Wouldn't put it past some of the dumb bastards in this detachment...
Either way, it shouldn't have concerned him, as that sort of punishment was the problem of the squad commanders, but the way the creature stared at him filled André with a sense of dread.
Cold, calculating eyes, the color of a winter storm. An unnatural color for a crow.
"Sir?"
André jumped slightly, his mind clearing as though being broken from a spell. Tearing his gaze from the crow, he gave an uneasy smile at the concerned faces surrounding him.
"Right, like I was saying. War to the wolf villages, peace to the human ones. That's what the Templar Master said to his men the other day. You know that, you learned it in officer school. From tomorrow, a new rule applies."
For only a moment, André faltered, but he knew if he showed any weakness, he wouldn't be able to justify what he was about to say. A terrible shiver rocked his body and once again he could feel the stare of the crow boring into his mind like a drill. Steeling himself, and in a just and righteous tone, uttered the few words he thought would never imagine saying.
"War to everything that's alive. War on everything that you can burn. That's the new battle cry of this war, and I intend for each and every one of you follow it to the letter."
For a moment, no one said a word, the sound of horse hooves and shouting men echoing in their ears as they tried to process what had just been said to them. Finally, one of the braver officers managed to find his voice.
"S-sir, L-lord Chamberlain, sir. Y-you're telling us to...k-kill and burn...human settlements?"
André looked somberly at the young man, understanding the confusion of these new developments. In truth, André himself could barely believe the orders he had received only a few minutes ago. Reaching across his saddle, he gripped the officer's forearm tightly, a sympathetic look in his eye.
"Aye lad, that's what I'm telling you. From here on out, a scorched earth policy has gone into effect. Anything of value, you are to take and report it to the treasury for inventory. Cattle and livestock are to be slaughtered and taken to the supply carriages, and any settlements burned and reduced to ash. The wolves have grown bolder each day and any human village they capture will only serve as a potential base for them. Therefore, we are to eliminate that opportunity for them."
"But sir!" His youngest officer, little more than a boy, cried, "Who gave these orders!? This is...this is madness!"
The Lord Chamberlain turned his head, grimacing as he locked eyes with the silent predator for the last time. His temple started throbbing, a dull pain began forming behind his eyeball, and for a brief second, André could have sworn he saw a vision of a ominous cloaked figure standing atop the cart, right behind the bird.
Both creatures stared him down, with the same gray eyes.
"Why... these orders came directly from the Grand Templar, of course."
"Here she comes."
Severa glanced down into the scarred earth and could just barely make out the vague shape of an winged creature climbing higher towards their observation post.
"Did you two learn anything good for once?" Severa joked lightly, knowing firsthand that Caderyn and Freyja were one of the most effective recon teams on the planet.
"Hmm...just a few trivial tidbits." Caderyn joked back, his go to response whenever asked that question.
Caderyn watched Freyja descend from graceful flight to land clumsily on his shoulder, fluttering her wings several times to steady herself.
"Good girl, Freyja. Good girl." Caderyn cooed quietly, reaching up to scratch the bird's chin.
Severa watched the exchange with a small smile, as the crow began hopping around Caderyn's shoulder, pecking affectionately at his ear and cheek, making low, warbling noises. Severa knew the stories about the intelligence of crows, and their ability to memorize the faces of humans, Bastitan and Kiedran.
For awile she never put much stock into such tales, but after Caderyn had nursed Freyja back to health after she had been mauled by a cat, Severa would swear by the fact that that bird was smarter than some people she knew.
"If you're done with the public displays, perhaps we can get going?" Severa asked, raising an eyebrow, "Tell that pet of yours that I want to get out of this rain."
Caderyn grimaced slightly, stretching his purple, silk mask over his nose, "She's not a pet, Sev...and she has a name you know."
Severa looked over her shoulder, the smile under mask unseen, but the playful look in her eyes still visible to Caderyn. "I was talking to Freyja, Caderyn."