Elowen Virelle stood in the middle of the destruction. The air was unnaturally still, as if the forest itself was holding its breath in the wake of a catastrophe.
She watched blood slowly seep into the broken earth, turning the dark soil into a sticky, iron-scented mire. Watched fractured beams sag under their own weight before finally collapsing with a dry, splintering groan and listened to the quiet settling of a settlement that would never live again.
She did not blink. She did not curse. She just stood there, as still as the ruins around her. Her flight leathers felt heavy, coated in a fine layer of grey ash that seemed to cling to everything.
Death was not new to her. She had seen villages pillaged, massacres, fires that turned homes to ash before children even had time to wake. But this… This felt different.
Not because it had been cruel but because it had been controlled.
The devastation ended at the clearing's edge. The forest still stood untouched. The sky above had never burned. Even the wind felt as though it had been permitted to move only after the violence was done. It was the precision of a surgeon, but the patient was a graveyard.
Whoever had done this had held back. Her jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.
Was it the people she had encountered before? Was it the man? Or was it something else entirely—Something that chooses when and how to kill?
She didn't know. But as her gaze lingered on the massive impressions pressed deep into the earth, the sheer scale of the paws making her own boots look like toys, one truth settled clearly in her mind.
They could not be left unchecked. She would find them and she would bring them in.
Elowen did not linger long after that. Once she had seen enough, she mounted her griffon in one smooth motion and signaled for takeoff. The ruined settlement shrank beneath them as they climbed. Smoke drifted in thin ribbons through broken beams. Beyond it, the clearing remained scarred, frost clinging stubbornly to ground that should have thawed hours ago.
She didn't look back. The wind sharpened as they rose higher, whipping her braid against her neck, but her thoughts were sharper still.
Three have probably become four and if the fourth was responsible for that massacre...
++++
By dusk, the towers of Valedorn pierced the horizon. The city's pale stone reflected the dying sunlight, serene and untouched—completely unaware that the frontier had shifted beneath it.
Elowen landed hard in the royal aerie. She barely gave her griffon time to settle before striding toward the throne chamber, her spurs ringing out a frantic rhythm against the marble.
She was admitted immediately.
King Aldric IV sat upon the high throne, the court already assembled. Word of her return had clearly reached the king ahead of her, the air thick with the scent of expensive incense and nervous sweat.
She knelt.
"Well?" the king asked.
"It is confirmed," Elowen said, her voice echoing in the vast, vaulted space. "The destruction at the orc settlement was not the work of an army."
A murmur rippled through the chamber before dying beneath the king's raised hand.
"There was a crater in the clearing beyond the village," she continued. "The tracks I have found points to two entities. The first seemed human. There was nothing distinct about the tracks. All I can say is that whoever it was knew how to wield fire with astounding control. "
"And the second?" Aldric pressed.
Elowen did not embellish. "There were massive paw impressions. Deep enough to imprint on stone. There was a lot of frost and frozen ground where the two fought. Whatever it was clearly knew how to use ice magic."
Silence settled over the court, cold and absolute.
"You believe those entities are responsible?" Aldric asked slowly, the words tasting like ash.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The devastation was significant, other than the settlements' destruction, most of it was contained within the clearing. The surrounding forest remains standing."
"So they weren't aiming to cause devastation throughout the frontier."
"I believe so, sire."
That answer seemed to displease him more than open savagery would have. Savagery was predictable; someone showing restraint was harder to read and predict.
The king rose slowly from his throne. "An unknown group enters my frontier," he said. "Within days, an entire orc settlement lies destroyed." His voice did not rise. It hardened. "Regardless of our hatred for the orcs and their kin, I will not have unpredictable forces changing the landscape within my borders."
He turned toward the gathered nobles. "Send word to the barons and viscounts governing the frontier. Patrols along the Greymark roads are to be doubled. Town garrisons will increase by no fewer than twenty soldiers per settlement."
A scribe hurriedly recorded every word, the scratching of the quill the only sound in the room.
"Counts holding outer territories will dispatch reserve companies to staging points near the main frontier cities. I want it done quietly. No public declarations as it could alert that band of renegades."
A baroness near the front inclined her head. "You think they will move further inland, Your Majesty?"
"I plan based on their unpredictable behaviour," Aldric replied evenly. "And I do not want these wild horses to think they can do whatever they want in my kingdom."
He began pacing slowly before the throne. "The orcs of that settlement were not citizens." A few nobles exchanged glances. "But they occupied land within my frontier." His gaze swept across the chamber. "We will have to cover up their involvement and say the crown was responsible for the destruction of that settlement. We can't admit outside forces did the work for us." What happened to the orcs on the other hand will serve as an example for others who think they can live on my land free of charge."
The room went very still.
"And if these unknown individuals carry such power wherever they travel, then every town in that region is vulnerable." He stopped pacing. "Warning the citizens at this point would only lead to panic. We will notify the nobles and their men but it must not be leaked to the general public."
The word landed deliberately. "Remind your people what reckless power looks like. Use the orc settlement as an example if you must. You have to prepare them and Fortify them in an off chance that they meet these individuals."
Then his attention returned to Elowen. "Captain Elowen, I charge you with tracking them."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"You are not to engage them unless absolutely necessary. You will not escalate this blindly. But if they move toward population centers with plans to raze it—"
"I will act," she finished, her hand dropping to the hilt of her sword.
Aldric studied her for a moment. "Find out everything you can about them," he said finally. "I don't want anymore speculations or corpses corpses."
Elowen inclined her head. "As you command."
When she stepped out of the chamber, the full weight of the king's strategy settled into place. The realm was shifting. The roads would begin to tighten. Garrisons would swell. Watchtowers would light earlier each night. Merchants would begin whispering of dangers along the frontier.
And somewhere beyond Valedorn's reach—A human walked beside forces capable of reshaping the kingdom.
Elowen stepped into the cooling night air. The hunt was no longer personal. It had become political. And politics, she knew well, could be far more dangerous than any monsters.
+++++
By the time the royal decree reached High Valmere, it carried no panic, only instructions.
Baron Edrin Halvane read the king's sealed message in the quiet of his study, the soft glow of the hearth fire dancing across the parchment.
Increase patrols along all major roads. Establish identification inspections. Reinforce garrisons quietly. Report unusual travelers.
He read it twice. Then folded it neatly. "The capital seems unsettled," he murmured.
His steward waited across the room. "What are your lordship's orders?"
"Follow the king's decree," Edrin replied calmly. "I want road patrols to increase. Inspections will be carried out more often. I want it all to be visible but orderly. I want no harassment of the merchants and the public must not feel alarmed."
"The king's decree implies that his command be carried out with urgency."
"Urgency," Edrin said as he walked to the window overlooking the Greymark road, "often lead to mistakes that can easily be prevented."
Travelers moved steadily along the road below—caravans, pilgrims, mercenaries. Somewhere among people like them walked a group that had unsettled the crown.
"If the people the king is looking for are reckless," Edrin continued softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, "then the crown will crush them." He watched the road thoughtfully. "But if they are intelligent…"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Being the first to greet them and create a rapport could prove… advantageous." He turned back to the steward. "Ensure the inspections are thorough." A pause. "But courteous."
Favor, after all, was a kind of currency. And Edrin Halvane had always invested wisely.
+++++
The High Valmere patrol rode openly along the main road. Four mounted soldiers bearing the falcon sigil of House Halvane. They were not there to hunt or hide from their duties. They were there on orders of their lord. As they rode down the road, they noticed an odd group walking in High Valmere's direction.
The captain lifted a gloved hand. "Halt."
Aleric stopped without hesitation, his heart doing a slow, nervous roll in his chest. Fenrir stood beside him, silver black fur bright against the road's dust.
The captain's gaze moved over Aleric. Then settled fully on Fenrir. "I want to see its identification tag."
Aleric blinked, the word feeling alien in this world. "Identification?"
"All bonded animals, summoned creatures, and approved monsters traveling baronial roads must bear a guild or crown marker."
Athena remained relaxed, though her eyes sharpened, her hand resting casually near her side. Fafnir crossed his arms, his emerald eyes flashing with a dangerous, mocking light.
"Why does he need an identification tag, he's clearly not a monster," Aleric said evenly, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.
The captain's expression did not shift. "It is larger than my horse."
"That doesn't—"
"No tag means its unregistered. Unregistered means that it could become a liability. Being a liability means you get a fine or we confiscate the creature."
Fenrir's ears twitched once. The air around him cooled by a fraction, a sudden, sharp chill that made the captain's horse shift restlessly.
"What's required to register him?" Aleric asked, sensing the rising tension.
"It needs a Guild registration. You need to declare ownership at the guild. You also need to register at the guild to even be able to register your beast. To be registered you need to complete a class registration form. You have until Rellmere to register your beast."
The word ownership rang inside Fenrir's ears. The word lingered, heavy and sour. Fenrir's gaze shifted toward Aleric — his gaze unreadable.
"We'll register at Rellmere then," Aleric said.
The captain nodded once. "Good. Travel safely and follow the laws, and you'll have no trouble. Once again, you have till the town of Rellmere to register your hound."
As the patrol continued down the road, one younger soldier muttered quietly, "Biggest hound I've ever seen."
Fenrir did not respond. But his tail flicked once, a sharp, silver whip of irritation.
One hour later, Aleric and his summons arrived at the town of Rellmere.
Rellmere stood untroubled when they arrived. The king's directives had not yet reached this far. The gates were open. The guards were unhurried. Merchants filled the central square. Children ran between stalls with wooden toys. For now, the tightening hand of the king had not yet closed.
They secured rooms at a modest inn near the square. Across the street stood a large timbered building bearing a crossed blade and hammer. The Mercenary Guild of Rellmere.
Athena tilted her head. "That is where we can get our documentation."
"And coin," Aleric added, feeling the weight of his silver pouch.
Inside, the guild hall buzzed quietly, the smell of old parchment and stale beer hanging in the air. The group walked straight towards the counter where a guild receptionist sat busily filling out forms and other reports.
"Name," the clerk said without looking up, his quill scratching rhythmically.
"Aleric."
"Class?"
"Summoner." The quill paused briefly. "That's not common."
"I'm Thena. My class is War Maiden." The clerk glanced up at that before writing, his eyes lingering on her curvy figure.
"And him?"
"My name is Faf, remember it. I'm a Berserker," Fafnir replied, remembering his alias. He leaned lazily against the counter, looking like a man who found the entire process beneath him.
The clerk grunted approval. "And the wolf?"
Silence.
"He's with me," Aleric said, his voice tight.
"Companion beasts fall under the summoner registration. You will need to confirm ownership."
Ownership again. Fafnir leaned forward slightly. "Register it. He answers to the boy."
Fenrir's eyes narrowed faintly, the silver sigils beneath his fur glowing with a low, dangerous light.
The clerk scratched ink across parchment. "Summoner Aleric. One bonded beast." A small metal tag slid across the desk. "Affix this to its collar. This tag is legal within this kingdoms' territories."
Aleric picked it up slowly. The metal was cold and cheap. Fenrir stared at the metal disc.
"It's only temporary," Aleric muttered, as much to himself as to the wolf.
"Pet," Fafnir added under his breath, his voice dripping with amusement.
Fenrir's tail swished sharply. "You are closer to a pet than I," he replied flatly.
The clerk froze, his eyes widening. Athena stepped in smoothly. "It's a vocal projection technique. Its great for party coordination."
The clerk blinked, uncertain, then stamped the parchment. "Sure...well your registrations are now complete."
Fenrir's gaze lingered on the tag — not in anger and not in submission. His gaze was filled with judgment.
Aleric said nothing. He slipped the tag into his palm instead of fastening it.
They stepped back into the square. Evening light stretched long across the cobblestones. Merchants were packing up. The inn's lanterns had begun to glow warmly. For a few steps, none of them spoke.
The word lingered. Ownership.
Finally, Aleric exhaled quietly.
"Let's eat first," Athena said, sensing the tension but not pressing it.
They entered the inn and secured their rooms. Three adjoining chambers. Modest, clean. Once the keys were handed over and the innkeeper retreated, Aleric turned toward Athena and Fafnir.
"I need to speak with Fenrir," he said.
Fafnir arched a brow. "About his new status as a pet?"
Athena gave him a look, sharp enough to draw blood. "I need to talk to him alone," Aleric clarified.
The humor faded slightly from Fafnir's expression. He studied Aleric for a moment, then shrugged. "We'll be next door."
Athena nodded once, understanding far more than she voiced. "Take your time."
Aleric inclined his head in quiet thanks. He gestured for Fenrir to follow and entered the nearer room, closing the door softly behind them.
The room was small but sufficient. There were two beds, a narrow table and a single window that was overlooking the square. Distant conversation drifted up from below, the sounds of a world that had no idea what was standing in this room.
Fenrir remained standing near the door at first. Aleric moved to stand by the table, the metal tag resting in his palm.
"I don't like it," he said finally.
Fenrir's ears shifted slightly. "I am aware."
"I shouldn't have let him word it that way."
"Ownership," Fenrir said calmly, the word sounding like a death sentence.
Aleric nodded once. "They needed documentation. That's all."
Fenrir stepped toward the window, moonlight tracing along his silver fur. "In their systems, documentation defines possession."
"It defines who will take responsibility," Aleric corrected.
A pause.
"You fear refusing to register me would lead to more trouble like what you mentioned during our travels," Fenrir observed, his voice a low vibration that seemed to come from the floorboards themselves.
"Yes." Aleric leaned lightly against the table, the wood groaning under his weight. "The patrol we met wasn't hostile but inspections seem to be increasing. Something happened. Maybe we are responsible for this, or maybe something else occurred. No matter what it is, we can't afford to attract anymore attention now."
Fenrir was quiet, his silver eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "The collar is an insult," he said after a moment.
"It's also protection," Aleric replied, his voice gaining a sudden, hard edge. "Without it, some captain will eventually decide you're a threat to public safety. Then it becomes a show of force. They won't see you as my partner; they'll see a monster that needs to be put down."
"Hmmm...after traveling with you for a short time, I believe I have seen the measure of your convictions." A pause. "You aren't the kind of man to step back and let that happen."
"You are right." There was no hesitation in that answer. It wasn't a boast; it was a simple statement of fact.
Fenrir studied him carefully, as if looking for the crack in his resolve. "Why would you place yourself between me and their laws." "You are my summoner, regardless of how I feel about it, its a fact. I cannot comprehend why you would go out of your way for me.''
"To me you are more than a summon. Some see you as a beast, others see a monster or god. To me, whether you accept it or not, you are a companion. A friend if you will. "
The room stilled, the air thick with the weight of that promise.
Sigh. "You are young," Fenrir said quietly. "And reckless."
"That is probably true."
A faint huff escaped the wolf — not quite amusement, but a softening of the tension.
Aleric stepped closer, his shadow overlapping with the wolf's. "You need to understand Fenrir, I'm not trying to bind you," he said. "It's just a marker, a way to alleviate suspicions on us and the rest of the group."
"And if I refuse regardless?"
Aleric met his gaze steadily, his heart hammering but his eyes clear. "Then we'll just deal with it together when the time comes."
There was no command or forceful intention in Aleric's voice. Every word he spoke was filled with sincerity.
Silence fell between them. It stretched long enough to matter, long enough for the weight of their words to land where it should.
Then Fenrir stepped forward of his own accord.
"I'll accept to wear it... for now."
Aleric exhaled slowly, a long, shaky breath of relief. He knelt, his knees clicking on the floorboards, and fastened the metal tag to the simple leather band the receptionist gave for Fenrir to wear. He then slowly, almost reverently tied it around his neck.
The band was nothing eye catching. Anyone looking would just notice a simple accessory. Except now it held a newly added circular disc that reflected the moonlight shining through the opened window.
Fenrir straightened once it was done, the metal clinking softly against his fur. "It does not suit me."
"It's only temporary, until we find another way."
"We shall see."
Outside, Rellmere continued in comfortable ignorance. Patrols will begin to increase soon and the security on the roads will also tighten. But within a small rented room, an understanding has been reached. And for creatures like Fenrir, an agreement carried far more weight than ownership ever could.