Sweetie found herself in an awkward position. Not yet given the full powers of a queen, but elevated to a rank below. But still, she used them well. For starters, she and a few of the advisors made a decision that the mix-breed population would now be considered equal to that of the pure breeds.

She had been thinking about this strange fact as she walked to her new chambers. It didn't seem like the kind of thing that everyone would've reacted well to. After all, mix-breeds had been considered lower class citizens for generations. But yet they accepted it with full support. Even some of the extended family had taken in some mutts, though more as servants and apprentices.

She eventually came to a conclusion. It was because the old king was dead, killed by an assassin who had also kidnapped and probably killed the prince, and they needed a new ruler to rally behind. They didn't care who they stood beside, so long as there was justice.

Sweetie walked into her chamber, still deep in thought. However, her ponderering was interrupted when she looked up and saw someone standing at her window, looking out. She smiled.

The canine at her window was Rubble, a short and stocky build bulldog. Even despite how young he was, Sweetie having a good three or four years over him, he was an excellent fighter. He had a custom battle hammer, made special by one of the best blacksmiths in the kingdom. He wielded it as easily as one would use a knife to cut through butter. Best of all, he was undyingly loyal to the Kingdom of Fenrir and its leader.

Someone grabbed Sweetie from behind. She jumped and screamed, only to be met by hysterical laughter. She sighed in annoyance at the dog after her near heart attack. Zuma was a Chocolate lab from the Eastern Border. He had grown up by the sea, and so always smelt like salt water and fish. His weapon choice was, unsurprisingly, a trident, though it looked more like a balded club than anything. However, even despite it's odd design, Zuma was, essentially, a master with his weapon, though since it was one of the only weapons of its kind, this was debatable.

Rubble turned around, smiling widely. Zuma managed to catch his breath as Sweetie glared at him, which caused him to laugh harder, having to use the table in the room as support. Sweetie shook her head and turned toward Rubble, who had been looking at his friend and trying not to laugh along with him.

"You find this funny, you two? Almost giving your new leader a damn heart attack on her first day?" Zuma managed to finally stop laughing and took a deep breath. "Well, we awe your two best fweinds. What's a bit of spowt and pwanking between us?" Zuma had an odd speech impediment that made his R's sound like W's.

Sweetie shook her head. "Well killing me isn't exactly helpful." Zuma chuckled.

"Anyway, to why I called you two here." Sweetie looked between the two. "I assume you at least know part of it."

Rubble finally spoke up, his voice deep but still boyish. "The king was killed in combat by some asshole who just so happened to also kidnap the king's bastard son Chase. You want the two of us to track him down?"

Sweetie looked at him, rather surprised. "Actually yes. That is indeed what I had in mind." She clapped her hands together. "But there's one thing."

Zuma spoke. "And that is?"

"I want you to bring him in alive, if you can. I want to know who kidnapped Chase and where he is."

Rubble chuckled. "You got a crush on the prince or something?" Though he spoke sarcastically, his face was sad.

Sweetie looked offended. "Gods, no. Just the king made it clear that if I found the prince, I would have to step down." Her face suddenly lit up in a malicious grin. "I want the prince brought to me, so I can kill him myself. Hell, I'll accuse him of some false charge just to make it seem like the truth."

Zuma also grinned and let out a laugh. Rubble, however, looked uncomfortable with the prospect. He groaned with uncertainty. "I don't really know about this. I've pledged my life to the kingdom and it's leaders. If Chase is the prince-" Sweetie cut him off. "I know about your pledge, Rubble. But Chase isn't the ruler, is he?"

Rubble's face lit up with realization. "Oh."

Sweetie smiled warmly at him, gently brushing his face as she seductively spoke. "Plus, you do this for me, there might be more in store, yeah?" Rubble felt his knees go weak for a second, and a few beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

Zuma pulled a face. "Alwight then, I'm just gonna leave now, let me know when you're ready to go Rubble." He quickly walked out of the room, shaking his head. Sweetie chuckled as he left.

Rubble began to follow, but was again stopped by the soon to be ruler. "Remember Rubble. I want him alive." The bulldog nodded. He left the room, finding Zuma waiting right outside. The lab smirked at him. "Think she's got a bit of a cwush on you thewe, Wubble."

Rubble blushed but made no response. The pair both proceeded to walk to the armory where their weapons were stored. Zuma was thinking, nibbling his finger, a habit he picked up from his mother. Rubble noticed.

"Something bothering you there, Zuma?"

Zuma sighed. "I'm just thinking about how we're going to bwing this guy back. All we weally know is that he was injured and then he wan off to the south bowder. Plus, he killed the king. What awe we going to do against that?"

Rubble shrugged. "I didn't really think about that. I was wondering about the prince, though. What do we do if he tries to resist?"

Zuma laughed. "We do what Sweetie said.I'll let you have the honor of grabbing him."

Rubble sighed. "It...it doesn't feel right to me, though. I mean, why just kill the prince if he can help restore order to the kingdom?"

Zuma grabbed Rubble and pulled him into an empty room. "Look hewe, Wubble. We awen't hewe to as questions." He pointed at the door. "We get paid to do what Sweetie says, wight?" Rubble nodded. "Good. So, do what she says and we get the gold. Okay?"

Rubble nodded again. Nervous as he was about this, he knew that making Sweetie mad was a bad idea. What she had helped the king do all those years ago… Rubble shuddered, not wanting to think about that incident.

"I just hope that we can find this man quickly. I rather like breathing."

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Ethan took a long drink from his stein, practically inhaling the ale. He drained it, and looked at Skye, having just heard the entire story that had happened not fifteen minutes ago in Skye's patient bedroom. He looked at his body and hands again.

"So, how the hell am I still alive then? From what I just heard, I should be dead at least three times over right about now."

Skye laughed. "You're stubborn, Ethan. It's like Marshall always said, `"He refuses to die, no matter the circumstances."' She smirked. "Guess still being a virgin motivates you." Ethan gave a her a "go fuck yourself" look, causing her to spit up some of her ale from laughter.

Ethan, however, looked downtrodden. He sighed, clasped his hands together, and sat in thought for a moment.

'Something the matter, Ethan?' Skye refilled both their steins.

'Yeah. I'm just finding it unfair that I now have someone from my own clan still alive, and Marshall still being the last of his. It's like I'm the favored son of the gods or something.'

Skye chuckled. 'That sounds like something Marshall would say.' She took a sip of her ale. 'Never took you for the thoughtful kind, Ethan. What changed?'

The wolf shrugged. "Guess almost dying this time brought some clarity."

'You've almost died plenty of times, what was different this time around?'

'Finding out that my kin aren't all dead, Skye. That's what's fucking different.' He buried his face in hands, an aura of pure rage suddenly coming off him.

Skye stepped back. Whenever the wolf got this, it either ended in someone dying or an emotional breakdown.

Simply put, the emotional breakdown was easier to handle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'Wake up.'

Cold water splashed on Chase's face. He jerked awake, his head throbbing. His eyes shot open, revealing a small bedroom, unadorned other than a large mirror to the prince's right. He looked up, finding a large brown bear standing over him with a bucket the size of his hands. He smiled apologetically. 'Sorry, but you weren't waking up the other times we tried.' He looked at the bucket. 'This always seems to work, though.'

Chase went for his sword, and to his surprise, he found it by his bedside table. He drew it, leapt out of bed, and charged the bear. Said bear simply stepped aside, revealing an open door. Chase wasn't able to stop and went flying down the stairs, knocking him senseless.

Callie was waiting at the bottom. She sighed and picked up the prince's sword, spinning her wrist. 'I knew we shouldn't have given him easy access to this. Hell, we should've taken it in the first place and hid it.'

Boris walked down the stairs. 'Yes, well, Marshall wanted him to at least try to trust us.' He sighed. 'Guess this'll be harder than we thought.'

'That's a bloody understatement.'

Chase regained his senses, picking himself up off the floor and shaking his head. His survival instincts suddenly kicked in. He kicked Boris in the kneecap, causing the bear to fall. Dashing forward, he knocked Callie over, grabbing his sword as she tumbled. Quickly, he ran out of the house.

Outside, he was met with an unfamiliar scene. A muddy street, lined with wooden houses. Peasants of all species walked the streets, talking and shopping. Chase was suddenly nauseous, though he had no idea why.

He heard the two animals behind him starting to get up, and the cat started to run at him. Quickly, he grabbed the child nearest him. He had no qualms about this, knowing that his survival may depend on it. Someone screamed. The child began to cry as the feline and bear made it outside. Chase began to slowly back down the street toward the forest. The cat pulled a bow out from a basket at the side of the house entrance, notched an arrow, and aimed. Chase growled.

The bear held up his hands, signaling no harm. 'Please, sir, we want no harm to come to you.'

Chase scoffed. "That's about the sorriest excuse I've ever heard. You kidnapped me from my chambers. I don't believe that "you want no harm to come to me."'

Boris nodded. "Know how this looks." He took a step down and toward Chase. The prince backed away slowly. "You are holding a child captive, threatening to kill her. Have we made any suggestion that we are hostile other than the obvious?"

Chase considered this for a second. What did they really want with him? Ransom was probably it.

"I really don't give a crap about that. All I need to do is get back to my father."

The bear's eyes widened slightly. He went to speak.

Someone tapped Chase on the shoulder. "Oi arsehole, you didn't check your back."

Chase got violently turned around, dropping the child as he was. The wolf who he had first seen in his room was right behind him, growling, eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, Chase felt a genuine shiver of pure terror. "I didn't even hear him come up behind me! How?!"

Ethan then grabbed Chase and threw him to the ground. Mud splattered all over Chase as he struggled to get up. Ethan unsheathed his sword, and kicked Chase's toward him.

"Get up."

Chase finally stood up, grabbing his sword in the process. He looked Ethan in the eyes, and suddenly he recognized him, or at least what he was. His adoptive father had told him stories of a sorcerer city in the far north, one filled with magic and all sorts of wonders. His father had told him that these practitioners had become greedy with power, believing that their magic and strange powers made them superior to all. Chase asked why they believe such a thing. His father smiled at the inquisitive young pup, and he gave him his answer. "Because magic, no matter how pure it may seem, will always corrupt. There's no getting around it, no denying it. Never fully trust a sorcerer, no matter if they're your best friend or not.'

Chase now fully understood his father's wisdom. "No, it can't be. Can it?" Chase got up slowly, glancing over his opponent.. The wolf was radiating pure rage, and his eyes were glowing ice blue, rather similar to the color of Everest's eyes, Chase noticed. A sorcerer. Chase smiled. Once he escaped, this man's head would make a trophy for his father.

Ethan, on the other hand, had gone into a deep rage. Nothing else went through his mind other than the many ways he could humiliate and kill this arrogant little pup. Chase's smile simply sent him farther into his anger.

This was going to be an interesting fight.