A/N: The song for this chapter is a bit different than what I usually use, but I felt it was appropriate. Wardruna - Helvegen. All else is said at the end of the chapter. Enjoy reading and a Metal New Year to everyone \m/.
Nicholas Wilde was not known in these lands, which is exactly why he headed to this godforsaken piece of dirt in the first place. He was rather weary and tired of all the campaigns that were pushed on his shoulders by the wealthy landlords of the North. Everyone wanted to have the mercenary join their army. They even promised the red fox commanding positions, own patches of best land he ever seen, own vassals, vixens or females of any other specie he fancied, everything! But none of those conceited cretins really understood what it was that the fox craved so desperately. For even though they all smiled and piled praise after praise upon him, Nicholas saw right through those lies.
The worry. The hidden contempt. The disgust at having to laud him. Him. A fox. A specie they were so used to despise openly that it was possible for them to change their behavior only in the face of his weapons and the grim reminder of the fate that came after everyone who dared to openly oppose or disrespect the fox. The red devil's belt. Made out of pelts of mammals the mercenary have slain with utmost brutality, sewn by his very paws and adorned with the teeth and fangs of his victims. Worn for all the world to see and fear.
It was roughly four months since the fox set out on his path towards the prey dominant southern lands. These regions were much more friendly towards agricultural lifestyle. Forests and rivers were also in abundance and Nicholas easily found ways to avoid any companionship during his solitary journey. He cared not for the fact that predators were generally seen by the prey population as a savage bunch, the fox just did not want to have to deal with anyone. Aside from a rare merchant, from who he bought whatever the forest could not provide.
Though there were certain encounters Nicholas definitely enjoyed. Bandits and cretins who thought his arsenal of blades was meant for sale or as a trick. Fools. But no matter how stupid they were, thinking their numbers could take upon the fox who practiced war since he was able to stand on his own legs, the mercenary would show no pity or mercy. Besides, it was fun. Watching those cocky and sure smirks vanish from their muzzles, replaced first by inability to comprehend, then surprise, and right before the finishing strike, fear. Some tried to plead and beg. Others seemed to understand on instinctual level the fact they were facing Death himself and accepted their sendoff to Hel in soundless terror.
Still, the fox did not plan on stopping anywhere anytime soon. He was just aimlessly wandering towards something. Destiny though decided that that something would be a bunny. The elderly buck with a katana, that served him as a longsword, did not show fear or contempt, was respectful and smart enough to use the fox's alert lines to announce his presence. But most of all, Stuart of the Hopps clan did not want anything from him apart from what the mercenary was ready to give. The grey buck wanted Nicholas to cut down the enemies of the clan and was ready to pay for it, not with some strange and unneeded hubris like titles or land, but with simple money. As a bonus, the buck seemed not to treat his presence as something out of the ordinary. All in all, Nicholas thought that he liked this Stuart guy enough to take up his offer. And of course three kilograms of gold did not just lay on the road for anyone's taking, right?
Judith was seething. That worthless mercenary would cost them almost two fields worth of crops, enough to last a hundred adult bunnies for half a year! Just for being hired. The clan was also to pay for every killed enemy bunny, which was to be proved by their ears. Ears! Where they that barbaric that they would approve such a gruesome… thing? At a loss of other words on how to describe the situation and express her anger, the doe kept striking with her spear at the dummies in the training area.
About forty other bunnies were there with her, practicing with their spears. They were militia of the main family of Hopps clan, responsible for looking after the order and control of the border. Today they gave their duties to militia branch families and were all gathered on the order of the head. No one knew what they were called for, but they were to demonstrate their training routine. There were rumours of someone else joining the head for inspection. But nobody showed, so the bunnies just went with their training routine like always.
Judith was slightly away from all the other bunnies, since her techniques required a lot more space for her to practice, but today she was not going to use them. The doe did not feel like revealing all her trump cards in face of an unknown adversary. Even if he was a temporary ally, which did not mean he could not become an enemy in the near future. What if the Hindspaw clan proposed more than what her father did? What if he was not the one Stuart of the clan Hopps took him for? After all, the foxes from the North were supposed to be the most evil and shifty of all the predators? Was it not what the traveling merchants told? Why would her father put so much trust into someone untested? He didn't even ask for the fox to show what he could do! That was plain stupid, those brutes should not deserve such level of trust! As the head of the clan, Stuart must have known this, but decided to forgo the usual common sense in favor of some… some… Some what? Thing? Towards a fox?
- Sis! Gideon has made us some lunch, so finish up and let's go eat! - Judith was distracted from her dark thoughts by a scream from one of her younger siblings. They did not really have a set routine with trainings anyways, so everyone in the militia just stopped training after lunch was ready. Judith was an exception, continuing to practice until most of the family finished lunch, but today was a special day. The whole clan was going to have a lunch outside, together. This was such a rare occurrence, that even the impending conflict with another clan was not something that could dissuade the clan from gathering.
- Coming! - Landing one last thrust upon the hardwood dummy, the doe stopped. That shout slightly broke her breathing rhythm, so Judith took a second to restore it and then slow it down. Swiping her ears back with her free hand, the grayfurred doe hopped to where the tables have been placed and food served. She hoped to catch a glimpse of her father somewhere along the tables, but he was not there right now. It seemed like the head of clan would be joining them later, after all, being preoccupied with the fox mercenary. Her wondering of what they could be up to, though, was chased by the laughter and conversation of her numerous siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and other relatives she could and could not name. Soon enough the bunny was lost inside the fun and joy that a family reunion was.
Not too far away, under a shade of a large apple tree, Stuart Hopps watched over the tables at which the whole clan was sat. His eyes immediately found his eldest daughter, Judith. She was known as the best spearman in the Trinity Burrows, a special wielder, but this was still not enough to dissuade other clans from picking up on Hopps. Strength was not everything, it seemed, and greed always had an ability to cloud the reasoning of even smartest of mammals. Their clan lacked authority, the buck knew it, and they still were not numerous enough to grant themselves strength that could substitute for this authority. The reason why they found themselves in such a situation.
- Do they really just hit those dummies the whole day? No fights, no war practices? - The fox, even sitting next to Stuart was still reaching the buck's shoulders. A lunge and those sharp fangs would easily pierce the delicate bunny skin around his neck, ending the head's life in a second. Right now though, Stuart watched in amusement as those sharp fangs snapped at falling blueberries. Who would have thought that a predator, thought to be a machine that could only devour meat, would delight so much in something growing on a bush?
- The only times they hit each others are those tournaments. They are held once a month, so that the youth can fight between themselves to their hearts' content. Aside from that they only hit those dummies. - Stuart has already told the mercenary of his younger days. Which seemed to have earned him more respect from the fox. But still, both agreed on the fact that despite being good with the sword and teaching, the buck was absolutely worthless when it came to the questions of training armies and strategising a war. Nicholas also pointed out his reluctance to take so much upon himself, but agreed to give the Hopps hints on how to improve their overall ability to wage a full scale aggression on the enemy. Stuart was reluctant at first, but the todd was adamant that if the clan wanted to finish this fight soon and with as low number of casualties as possible, they had to be the one to take initiative without launching a suicidal frontal assault upon their enemy.
- Then the only thing I have to worry about are those sheep. Just make sure you follow the plan, Stuart, and I will do my part. I will be staying here for a good afternoon nap, so you should go and join your family. This gathering is probably not something that happens often. Shouldn't miss it, being head and all. - The elderly buck, knowing when his presence was not wanted, just nodded and left for the tables, leaving Nicholas alone and thinking.
As of the census of two years ago, clan Hopps comprised of a main family with 278 bunnies total and seven more families, called branch families, with 1329 bunnies total. Out of that number, able bodied bunnies were around 980, while clan militia were just 253 bunnies. And Judith, which was considered a special wielder and amounted, if the words of the head could be trusted, to 20 spearwielding bunnies. Not that it mattered much to the fox, but it was an interesting fact left for future reference.
The Hindpaws clan was smaller than the Hopps clan, but they could boast almost a 340 strong militia. Not taking into account the fact Hindpaws were actually able to use mercenaries due to having larger revenue than the Hopps. This was a tough situation and the only salvation here was the fact that neither clan had feuds in the last half a century, enjoying peace and quiet. This meant that organizing a full scale assault would take some time to prepare. To make sure that no one would strike you in the back. Make sure you are not going to be overrun while your warriors went away and so on an so on.
Bunnies and their feuds. They sure worried about a whole lot of things for those who claimed to have a grudge worthy of slaughtering entire clan for it. In the fox's mind, if that was the case, why not just give a spear, or any other available weapon, to every ablebodied bunny and throw them at your adversary. Even if you lose like three quarters of your entire clan, this could be mended in less than twenty short years. Predators had nonsuch proficiency when it came to multiplying and they waged wars with less reservations than these bunnies! And with much more at stake.
This probably spoke volumes of differences in prey and predator nature, but Nicholas was already frustrated with the amount of nonkilling assistance he was providing the Hopps clan with, to actually consider such implications and seek answers to stupid philosophical questions. And it was his first day in the service of Stuart Hopps, so he was now going to do what he initially planned before the bunny's interruption. So, without further adieu, the tod packed all the thoughts running rampant in his head, put them on a pile, started a pyre and weep for their untimely departure. After which he went to the sleep he had to abandon this morning.
Young Rupert of the clan Hopps was a very wise bunny in his five years since birth. Knowing that today was the gathering day, when the whole Hopps clan would be having lunch together in the open fields, he decided it was the prime time for his brilliant plan to be implemented. His mother and father forbade him and his numerous siblings from going to the Berries pond, where all the most wonderful sweet berries grew. The buck was furious with this, since he wanted those berries. They were round, sometimes sweet and sometimes sour, sometimes green and sometimes purple. Granted, that was close to the Hindspaw territory, but what did he care? The poor child in his naivete could not understand the concept of feud by himself and nobody from the adults thought him old enough to explain the word to him. As such, Rupert, in all his wisdom, left his family during all the commotion of putting clan members to tables, and went over to the pond to answer the call of those sweet berries.
But his great wisdom could not predict the future and never in all the thoughts that told him of how this little trip could go wrong did Rupert of clan Hopps found himself taken by four of the Hindspaw bunnies, beaten and made show the way he used to get to the pond unseen by the Hopps militia supervising the land.
Black with bruises, his paws tied and a restricting rope on his legs, the young buck lead the way. A piece of cloth was stuck in his mouth, preventing him from screaming, though Rupert would not scream regardless, for he still wanted to live and fear of being killed kept him silent. The only sound escaping him was a quiet sob now and then, but even those were far in between, since all the tears have already dried.
The four Hindspaw bunnies carried short axes with them, ears flat and bodies hunched slightly to stay hidden by the tall grass growing on the western hill of the Hopps land. They were immensely proud of having to be the first ones to make something useful in the upcoming feud with the Hopps. If the passage they used was really safe, they could use it for a raid this very night, before the lost child was noticed to be missing. They conversed in hushed whispers, giddy with excitement and the rush of adrenaline that followed them going into the enemy territory. Currently reaching the top of the hill and passing by a lone apple tree. The weather was wonderful, and the long bunny ears could easily discern the sounds of some festivity going on just beyond the top. If the four Hindspaw bucks could report this back to their clan, adding some colorful details not necessarily accurate, they would be loaded as heroes!
Rupert understood not anymore what was going on. His mind refused to think, shielding the poor boy from the tragedy that was happening right now in his life, and that would surely follow. His clan was doomed, but the only thing that got from the subconscious to conscious part of his self consciousness, was that he had to move on, lest he be killed by the four other bucks. Young Rupert remembered not that he was a wise and independent bunny. He just wished he had listened to what his parents said and never left them. Would the great Creator heed his silent plea and send someone to save him, the buck promised never again to disobey his parents.
Once born a hunter, always a hunter. Or somewhere along those lines went the saying among the prey about their predatory neighbors. If one asked Nicholas, he would depict the author of the saying as a "paha musta veri". Which was a rather round about way of calling someone a son of mammals that slept with far too many prey, taunting their red blood, before conceiving the poor child in question. An expression of ultimate degradation one of the predator kind could fall into. Instincts really do play a large part of defining the skillset of a mammal, but it was the mind and body numbing work to get those instincts turn into something useful, thank you very bloody much, worthless dreamers. Bunnies could have the best hearing among the prey species, but as far as the fox was concerned, his was much more suited for the war. The tod knew what to listen for, what details to omit, what to pinpoint. The bunnies did not. They could have been completely deaf at this point in time and the outcome would not change. So boring.
Yet the smile that graced the mercenary's muzzle when he raised the ace and then lowered it with both hands at the skull of unsuspecting bunny was far from one being bored. The axe's smile met with not much resistance, cutting through the bone and grey matter until there was no more force pushing it, leaving the axe stuck in the split head. Resounding "thwak"from the strike alerted the remaining bunnies to a presence behind them, but their reaction was along the way of someone expecting his companion to stumble interesting something, not meeting an enemy in the said enemy's territory. Bloody cretins.
A surprised "huh", was all the sound escaping the turning bunnies of Hindspaw clan. Nicholas has already released the axe, leaving the body to freefall, and with the same fanged grin of pure delight threw two of his throwing knives. Two seconds that lapsed from the death of the first bunny were all the time the fox tod needed to kill the slowpokes that dared venture here.
The last Hindpaws standing turned just in time to see his fellow clansmen clutching their paws to the wounds. One trying to do something with the knife sticking out of his throat, gurgling in the face of encroaching death, the other holding the handle of a knife stuck right under his solar plexus. The shock of seeing his comrades collapse to the ground with pain and agony written all over their muzzles, unable to scream, was broken by a long red muzzle of a fox, with a black cloth covering both his eyes, appearing in front of him.
There was something unnatural to that expression, to the visage that crouched in front of the Hindspaw buck. Like Death himself, the merciless herald of Hel and impending doom, stood in front of him, full of gleeful malice and silent promise of the painful end. A single word was uttered by the grinning red devil in a cold tone, bereft of all feelings, that could freeze substances much more resilient to frost than water itself.
And the word was "run".
A/N: Aside from metal genre, that makes up around 95% of my library, I enjoy martial industrial, folk (especially nordic), ambient. Wardruna is one of the best folk/ambient projects out there and I have enjoyed their music much. There were several songs that ran around in my head for this chapter, but since it is still a bit early for the real action, I went with this one. I am not sure how soon I will be updating the next time, so I am just giving everyone a heads up on a possible wait.
As for why I use dashes. First, I am from another culture, obviously, and we use dashes to indicate direct speech (though it is supposed to be a long dash, but fk that, don't have enough patience to try and change every dash into a long one). Second, have you ever noticed where on your phone keyboard those quotes are located? I write when I have free time, and that is when come to hell (work) and back. By public transportation, so obviously I use my phone for all the writing. And it is much easier to use my right big finger to put a dash, instead of trying to bend the left one and put a quote. So, no, I am not changing to quotes, don't feel like it.
Now. Enjoy or suffer, I still don't care.