The Furred Reich (24 page)

Sure enough, Oxbane was close behind. He also did not look quite like a warrior Greenskin.

Oxbane wore a white cap which mushroomed out to a flat top. His white flowing attire looked equally dignified for a Greenskin. Oxbane handed a thick book to an underling who filed the text away.

“Master Sepp, your wolves are quite the warriors. It is an honor to finally see them,” the older Greenskin called out.

Oxbane eyed Kristiyan’s strange cannon, then glanced at the belt of explosives strapped to Kasha’s waist.

“…And such weapons you’ve taught them to use. It’s almost as if you’ve dropped in from another world,” the Greenskin envoy smirked.

“What can I do for you today Oxbane? I believe it was you who called us here.”

“Yes, yes. The Great Orc was very impressed with your tribe, so let me show you what he had in mind.”

Oxbane strode over to an altar in the back and instructed his two escorts to sit down on chopped up logs. Sepp’s party clanked up behind, and Oxbane laid a parchment map down between both parties.

Sepp immediately recognized the line which marked the beginning of the plains. Further east, toward the map’s edge, loomed the Orel Mountains and Cottonwine Lands. The map had red x’s marking what seemed to be the names of tribes. Sepp recognized only Goldgrass and Shattered Paw. He also recognized Balaton Spring at the Great Forest’s south eastern edge.

In the western forested area, the Greenskins put in a black ‘blot’ which represented the portion in the hands of the Lightning Rune Tribe. The black blotch was topped with a white ‘SS.’ From the map, it looked like Sepp’s tribe controlled three-fourths of the Great Forest and the Northern Swamps. In reality his tribe controlled less than half. The ‘Khanate’ had only a chunk of forest remaining, but possessed a vast territory opening up in the plains and covering most of the map beyond the forest.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Master Sepp,” Oxbane croaked. “You really did surprise us. The Great Orc had to call off the invasion of a powerful kingdom far to the south and east of here. Thanks to your counterattack.”

Oxbane chuckled, “We aren’t so adapt at forest warfare. We had a tough time in the north east as well. Didn’t think Wolves could put up such a grand attack. The Great Orc was impressed with you. Normally we ask for tribute in exchange for peace. But we’ll make an exception this time. He asks for a 100-year agreement. We live side-by-side from now on. In so doing your troops may join us in war if they like, as an ally tribe or even as mercenaries. Your tribe may share in our spoils, and we will respect your borders beyond the Khanate.”

“Well, this seems like quite an offer.” Sepp replied. “What borders did he have in mind?”

“These right here,” Oxbane replied. “We will cede the remaining forests without a fight. But we get the plains which we fought for and won.”

Sepp looked to Kristiyan, who was already shaking his head at the offer. This deal would put an end to Sepp’s ambitions to unite all wolven tribes, and his plan to one day challenge the Khanate’s power on the open plains. This was a compromise, but a comprimise that would also give Sepp a free hand to dominate the whole Great Forest in the west, even the other furres that lived there. Sepp had little use for the lapines and foxen he had seen, but he understood that this deal would bring those furres into his ‘sphere.’

On the other hand, an all-out fight against the vast Khanate would be a gamble, and a gamble that could mean disaster for him and the wolves who trusted him. Kristiyan seemed eager to take that risk, but Sepp already knew better. To put a people’s entire fate on the line. He’d been through that before.

“Tell us more, Oxbane. Say we accept. And I’m not totally convinced. I’m seriously thinking about it but I want to make sure of a few things first.”

“And what is that?” the Greenskin canted his head.

“The Shattered Paw, and all the eastern forest tribes. I want them all returned to me. Prisoners, civilians, even horses. I noticed many villages on the way here were nearly empty.”

Oxbane scoffed.

“Now I know you are not from our world, my dear Master Sepp. To ask that from the Khanate is to ask for the impossible. We’ll give you the horses, and you can have the prisoners back,” he chortled, “but you’ll be disappointed by how few of the latter remain.”

Sepp’s face turned red at that, and Kristiyan snarled at the lathery envoy across the table.

“Fine. Just give us the horses and whichever warriors remain. And let the villagers come home. They didn’t deserve to be moved in the first place.”

Oxbane laughed in Sepp’s face.

“Ghah! No. The Great Orc won’t agree to that, I am sure. The young women folk of those tribes are already carrying our young ones.”

“That’s enough,” Kristiyan barked and stood up, “you’re all going to die!”

Sepp grabbed Kristiyan by the scruff of his neck and placed the tall wolf back down onto the log.

“Since you’re new to the world, my dear Sepp, let me inform you. We species of the Khanate. We have a problem. Few women. For some of us it’s about one in six. For some other species, as bad as one-in-ten. We must keep what we have, or male clans fight with each other. The wolven females are one with us now and—”

“Just be quiet.” Sepp returned. “That is unacceptable, and we’ll fight to the death and drive you right past these mountains. To wherever it is you came from.”

Sepp planted a finger on the pointy Orel Range. Oxbane shook his head.

“What a shame that is. You know, the Raiders you fought were just a scouting force. Soon you will face the Great Orc’s invasion. Many times larger than what you’ve seen. We hate the forests, but we’ll come in anyway and exterminate your tribe. And just to make sure no threat ever comes from the west again, we’ll carry all the remaining she-wolves back to the plains and couple them all.”

Sepp stood up, put on his deerskin hat and tapped his crossbow.

“I’m holding you personally responsible for all this, Oxbane. And when we’ve destroyed your Raiders, I’m going to personally end your life.”

Oxbane sneered and chuckled, “You’ll never get the chance, dear Sepp.”

End of the Line

Hex looked on as the military galley sailed closer and closer to their cramped vessel. It was the Deltians, no doubt, and they were going to press everyone on this boat into some kind of servitude, except himself, but that all depended on a few things. The decision ahead was a hard one to make. Hiding his identity was risky. But if what he suspected about the rulers of Deltia were true, then there was only one way Hex’s journey could continue. As the galley pulled them in, Hex dropped his bag and tucked two of his three tails into his trouser pant. Several boats came up and took passengers off the wave-beaten patrol boat and onto sturdier ground.

Up ahead of them, a stone tower with white smoke floating heavenward heralded their approach to Deltia. The harbor was crowded with colored sails that road atop the boats they were masted to. From a distance he could see the expansive brown seawall that boxed off the city from any high tide.

Deltia was different from what he remembered ten years ago. The city was larger, with taller buildings, and more buildings spanning the shore. Dark blue clouds blocked much of the sunlight from bathing the city in warmth. Winter really was the best time of year in Deltia, at least for Kitsunes such as himself who were used to much colder weather.

As they landed, the Anubian Jackals streamed their way onto the boat and began roughly handling their living cargo. Hex bit his tongue as one of them put their paws on him.

“This fox doesn’t look like he’s worked a day in his life!”

The jackals laughed and shoved Hex into the line of furres, then marched that line all along the busy, golden-hued bricks that marked the arteries of the city. They passed the aqua water pools and toward the auction blocks further back. On the blocks, older children tended to fetch the highest bids, but the most able-bodied males were sought after on the blocks as well. Hex thumbed his nose as they bid him away for a piddling sum.

Hex’s buyer scowled as he came up to him.

“You’ll start on the road crew,” he said, “in five years you’ll be granted freedom if you work hard. Now what’s your name?”

“It’s Plebus, sir,” Hex replied.

“I only ask that you let me keep my belongings, sir.”

“That’s fine. You at least seem well-spoken. As long as you work hard you can keep that elegant bag of yours,” his generous new ‘master’ said. Within an hour they had taken him up through several residential districts crammed with bungalows and apartment blocks standing next to one another. He was quickly added to a road crew, handed a levered pick, and told to join in breaking up an old road that was being worked on.

Despite the winter season, Hex was panting in minutes from hammering away. The other slaves shook their heads at at the ‘foxen’ as he struggled to maintain their pace.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m new to here. Which housing prefect is this?”

The other slave, a lapine male, turned around.

“It’s eight-point hill.”

“Thank you.”

Hex immediately threw down the pick and sprinted through the bustling street. The foreman chased after Hex, but soon, the Kitsune was far down the road and weaving through the crowd. The foreman didn’t even bother to yell.

“Seriously? The new fox is seriously doing that. Stupid idiot won’t last more than a night,” the foreman growled.

“Issue a prefect report and pass his description to the trade gates and port authority.”

Hex sprinted until he could feel his pursuers slowing down and turning away. It was hard to go by his years-old understanding of the city, but, Deltia’s streets were all still there. He’d have to be out of sight by nightfall, but that wasn’t a problem. Already he was just minutes away from his safe haven. That haven was waiting for him just outside the palace district.

‘MISSION OF PROWERIAN JAEYU’

The building was just as he remembered it, a stately Deltian-styled courtyard building with two soldiers stationed outside. The working embassy of a defunct state. Hex caught his breath and made for the double-doors, ignoring the two soldiers and entering as if it were a daily occurrence. Inside, the embassy’s white walls and marbled floor greeted him just as they had years ago. Only this time, the foyer and halls were devoid of people. The house of Akhamnet was kind enough to keep the compound maintained, it seemed. Hex walked in toward the courtyard and to the service desks.

“What business do you have here?”

A voice called out down the hall. There were five counters. That voice came from the lone occupied desk on the far end.

“I need your help,” Hex said, walking toward the woman. Hex fixed his pant leg and let all three tails spring free. The fellow Kitsune across the desk stood there in shock for a moment.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t recognize your face. Are you a registered resident here?”

“No, I just got here. And I’m from one of the ruling houses.”

“Ah-Um, you’re from the House of—”

“Yes. That’s the one,” Hex cut her off.

“I need to see the ambassador and I also need for you to hide me here for awhile.”

“I-um-sure. How did you manage to get all the way here? Yes, come this way Ambassador Oden is in the back office. We’ll take care of you, Mr. Hex.”

She led him down a series of halls and through the courtyard. On the way, he saw only a handful of staff, but thankfully all were fellow Kitsune. That was a relief, because it meant everyone here could be trusted.

“The ambassador is right in here,” she said, opening the door.

The chair on the other side of the room turned around as they entered.

“Mayrose, has this man requested an audience?” The ambassador asked.

“Sir, it’s Hex. He’s here,” she replied.

Suddenly the ambassador looked at them like he had just eaten a lemon.

“Hex? Your Excellency! It’s such a burst of hope to see you. Of course, we will do everything we can for you. You said you needed some specific help from us?”

“Yes. One thing above all,” Hex replied.

“And what would that be?”

“Have you seen any sharp-faced humans wearing gray uniforms?”

Tex

Their spades barely scratched into the ground, but hard work gave Hans a chance to think about his situation. Unless Diefanthal was lying about the Americans killing surrenderees, it would be wise to stay here with the SS. Of course, he could just discard the Grossdeutschland armband, but—

“Don’t worry about Postel,” the mechanic Heinz Mertens chuckled and dug in to the hardened soil.

“It isn’t personal. Postel is actually the highest-ranking person in this whole cell, but the commander of this place doesn’t trust him, or anyone else that isn’t Leibstandarte.”

Postel had stormed off when Diefanthel ordered the Kompanie to dig a bunker for the SS officers and staff. The three of them, Mertens, Gustav and Hans, toiled away while keeping an eye on the American prisoner who sat in silence. Mertens seemed the most agreeable person there by far. His cheerful disposition was a stark contrast to the harsh hearts commanding all of them. The mechanic’s bright blonde hair and red cheeks only added to the personification.

“Can’t say I blame him, though. Postel, I mean. The aerodrome didn’t prepare me for these people’s unforgiving discipline, either.”

“So how’d you wind up here?” Hans asked. “Escaped a prisoner camp?”

Mertens laughed, “Heck no. I was in Crimea, in 1944. My pilot was the last man to evacuate when the Soviets came. There were three of us left, and only a single 109-E. You know, the fighter plane.”

“Right, but, isn’t that only a one-seater?”

“Yes! My pilot had to tear out the radio, then the cockpit armor plate. I crawled into the fuselage when my pilot fired up the plane. I could feel the engine lifting us with no difficulty. Then—”

“A white light? We’ve all seen it. Including myself,” a drawling voice retorted from behind them. It was the American prisoner.

“We can’t speak with you, prisoner,” Mertens retorted to Wheelis in a semi-official tone.