FSE

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The moon shined down upon the forest, its dense canopy blocking all but the smallest traces of the luminescent moonlight. From above, there was only one open spot among the entire forest. The open space was a small clearing that was obviously set up for sinister intent.

In the very center of the clearing, a small stand made entirely from gold, intricate designs of many different species carved and painted red both into the base and the stand itself. On the stand rested a basin that barely fit onto the stand, the blood red bowl filled to the brim with crystal clear water that sat unnervingly still in the night wind.

As the moon reached its zenith, a slow and quiet enchanting could be heard, whispered from every edge of the clearing by men wearing blood red robes, so dark that they appeared black in the dominating shadows of the trees. As they chanted, the circle slowly opened to allow an outstanding figure to step through, his body clothed in a pure white robe unlike the others.

He stepped forward slowly, each step landing on beat with the chanting, the chanting getting louder as he got closer to the basin, the male's muzzle flashing with his sudden entrance into the moonlight, the light showing off his pure white fur. When he made it to the basin, he halted and turned slowly around to view the others of the circle, nodding to all thirteen of them before turning back to the basin.

He carefully rolled the sleeve of his robe up, baring the entirety of his arm before holding it into the moonlight to show it to the others, the moon illuminating the scars that crisscrossed his arm, showing to all that were in attendance that this wolf had vast experience with this particular ritual.

After revealing his arm to the thirteen men, he pulled a knife from beneath his robe, the silver blade flashing suddenly in the night, revealing the intricate designs that were carved along the entire length of the blade. The carvings were runes, meant to withhold magical energy and infuse what it touched with the excess energy.

He brought the tip of the knife to touch his arm, just below his wrist. His eyes closing as he waited for the beat of the chant to match his thoughts again, his own deep voice joining those of the others as he began to chant as well, the finely worked blade digging into his skin slowly as he brought it down from tip to hilt, the entirety of the blade crossing his arm before he pulled it away, blood dripping from the wound and landing in the basin, the first drop barely disturbing the water, a small ripple forming at the center and spreading to the edges.

The male put the knife back to his skin again, eyes closing as he chanted, his voice entirely unaffected by the pain of the cut. As it hit the correct beat again, he sliced once more, right beneath the other. With the addition of this cut, more blood began to flow into the basin, the ripples growing large with each drop. He added a third and final cut, a hiss emanating from his lips as the pain finally broke through his calm. He dropped the blade into the basin.

As the silver, blood drenched blade hit the water, the rippling ceased. The water began to darken slowly, bubbling instead of rippling, getting darker and more opaque with every passing second. It didn't take long before the water was boiling, the wolf stepping back from it slowly, slipping carefully to his knees, still chanting. As he slid to his knees, the rest of the men of the circle slipped to their knees as well, their voices rising higher and higher, until the water exploded upwards.

After the water had exploded, gravity and a bit of magic did the rest of the work, the water falling into the form of a rather large and sinister looking creature, the liquid slowly forming into the shape before it began to solidify, the blood colored robes falling over the form as his feet settled onto the ground next to stand. "Why have you disturbed me?" the figure growled softly, his voice like the rasp of leather on steel as it left his maw.

The kneeling wolf looked hesitantly at his master, taking a peek of him from beneath his white hood and then pulled the hood from his face, allowing the moon to illuminate the long scar that ran across his left eye, the scar pulling the skin around it in, causing his face to be uglier than it already was. His green eyes directed themselves towards the ground, as much meek as the wolf could muster showing in them.

The circle followed suit, one by one showing their faces as they knelt, revealing that each one was a wolf with fur as black as the night that surrounded them. As one, they stopped their chanting, their foreheads pressing to the ground as they murmured, "My Lord." under their breath.

The white wolf in front of the figure nodded his head, his voice joining the others but louder. "My lord," he murmured softly, the tone of his voice showing the meekness in his eyes as fake, the confidence in his voice showing easily. "Our sources say that the woman went into labor early this evening and that the child will be born soon."

A pleased growl emanated from the throat of the figure and the leathery voice came from his throat once more. "Good." He said, a grin spreading across the small bit of red scaled muzzle that was visible, "I want the boy and his mother dead before first light!"

"It has already been taken care of, my lord." The wolf said, his eyes staring holes into the ground. "I sent out the orders for the troops myself, My Lord. Our two finest companies are on their way to assault the camp and kill the wretch and her runt."

The figure's head shook in a nod, the grin on his muzzle staying for a second longer before fading away, a solemn look replacing it. He reached down and gripped the wolf by the collar of his robe, yanking him up off of the ground easily, the male dangling by his robes. "And remember the price of failure," he said, his breath in the male's face making the wolf shudder out of fear.

The wolf stared at his lord's hooded face for a moment, his eyes barely able to mask the horror that he felt beneath his calm visage. "I would never fail you my lord," the wolf replied breathlessly, "My life would be forfeit."

"Good," the figure rasped, his claw reaching up to trace down the scar that ran across the wolf's eye. "I expect to be summoned again tomorrow night," he growled, pulling his hood back slowly so he could look the other in the eye, slowly revealing his red scaled face, the dragon's crimson eyes glaring daggers into the other's.

The wolf's eyes widened as he stared into the eyes of his lord, the wolf squirming in the dragon's grasp as he nodded his head furiously, feeling true fear for the first time in a very long time. "Of course my lord!" he said anxiously, "I will not fail you! I swear it!"

The dragon chuckled darkly, a malicious grin spreading across his maw as he dropped the wolf onto the ground, his form already slowly turning back to liquid, the water sliding down from the top of his head, pulling the rest of his form with him as it slowly soaked into the ground.

With the disappearance of their lord, a deathly silence filled the clearing, minutes passing before any of them dared to move. With all synchronization and decorum forgotten, they slowly gathered around their leader. "Let us hope," one of them said as he helped the white wolf to his feet, "that our god has not abandoned us in this."

"Yes," the wolf said, "let us hope. Hope that our god has not abandoned us." He looked to the clear, moonlit sky and closed his eyes tightly, sinking back to his knees before sitting on the ground, legs crossed, his lips moving rapidly in prayer. The hope was small in the first place, and with the exit of his lord, it was slowly dying.

**

Somewhere, off in the dark, the wailing shriek of a newborn baby filled the air, breaking the silence of the wicked night air. With the addition of the shriek to the otherwise silent night, the pitch black wolf looked up at the entrance to his tent expectantly and almost anxiously, his paws still holding the maps with which he was making plans. Scouts had reported to him that there were enemy on the way, and he couldn't allow them to get his child.

After a moment, his green eyes spotted movement beyond the flaps, before they spread open and a gray wolf stepping in through the flaps, the colored band on his arm marking him as a Lieutenant. "General," the wolf said panting, making it clear that he had ran straight from the tent of the General's wife, "Your wife has given birth to a son. He's healthy, and stable."

As he heard the words, the General stood, joy filling his heart as he donned the arm band that marked him as a general, the band sliding on easily over the armor that he already wore, prepared. "Good," he said, stacking the maps as neatly as he could while in a hurry and grabbing his sword and shield from the stand next to his travel desk. "Gather your men Lieutenant, and guard my wife and son on their way to my mother's farm.

The Lieutenant looked at him curiously, stepping out of the tent with his general and looking up at him, his face showing his confusion. "Why your mother's farm, sir?" he asked as he gestured over a page to take his orders to his men. "Wouldn't they be safer with the Nation?"

The General growled softly as he looked up at the moon, judging the time before calling over multiple pages, sending messages out, the pages rushing off quickly as the men nearest who had heard the orders helped spread the word while getting themselves ready. "Tonight is a wicked night, and they need to be safe now." the General marched over to his horse, waiting impatiently for the groom to finish saddling it, "And the Nation is no safe place for my wife and child, not while I'm doing inspections, and not even when I'm there."

He got onto his horse quickly, his legs gripping the saddle as he held the reins hard, "And there are too many conspirators in the Nation. My brothers and sisters all want the throne for themselves, as well as multiple others among the council. If I allow them a chance at my son, he is going to die. I can't allow that to happen. No one in the Nation knows where my mother's farm is, and he'll be safe there until he's old enough to defend himself. I'm counting on you to defend him until he's an adult. Understood?"

The male examined his general for a moment longer before nodding his head, bowing his head and saluting afterwards. "Yes sir, I'll get your wife and child to your mother's farm safely. You have my word."

The Lieutenant was about to turn around to carry out his orders before the General leaned down from the saddle and gripped him by the shoulder. "Maslan," the general said, his name slipping sensually from his lips, speaking of a whispered history of love, "You absolutely have to defend my son. Take him to my mother's farm, and stay nearby. When he turns eighteen, bring him to the Nation to be trained." the General leaned back up in his saddle and stood, looking around at the bustling camp. "He is to be King after I die. He absolutely must stay alive and safe."

Maslan's eyes opened wide, the green reflecting the moonlight as he stared right back into the General's eyes. He felt joy as he realized the General still cared for him... he turned his head and shook the General's paw off of his shoulder, covering his surprise with a bow, "Yes sir, I will defend your wife and child as if they were my own family." he said.

"Lieutenant," the General called after him, his horse pulling up next to Maslan one last time, his eyes staring down into Maslan's. He leaned down slowly and gripped the male by the chin, before kissing him on his cheek, "You're the only person left for me to count on. Defend him."

Maslan blushed furiously, his gray face growing red as he reached up and rubbed his cheek, surprised by the show of affection. He bowed one last time, "I will defend your son with my own life." he said, before turning and leaving, meeting with his company and mounting his horse, the men in his company formed around a carriage that held the newly born prince and his mother.

"Alright," the general muttered to himself, looking around at the camp before beginning to do his circuits, making sure that everyone was getting prepared. He had sent out more scouts, but none of them had returned. He growled, the growl laced with anxiety as he viewed his men, "Get to work!" he shouted, trying to speed them along, "There are enemies coming for us now! Don't let them catch us unawares!" He took one last look in the direction that Maslan had taken his wife and son, before committing himself to the upcoming battle.

**

Maslan and his men were riding as hard as they could without risk of harming the new mother and her child. His eyes scanned the road and the trees that ran alongside it. He raised his arm above his head and said, "Scouts, report!" As he said this, four of his scouts stepped to him, there horses already panting hard from the hard scouting that they had done.

"We're good on the road for a few more miles sir," one of the scouts said as he looked around, "But I don't like the feel of the night. Maybe it would be better if we abandon the carriage and continue on horse alone?" he suggesed.

Maslan shook his head and said, "No, we can't risk it, not with the boy being so young. He shouldn't even be in a carriage so shortly after his birth." Maslan hesitated and closed his eyes tightly, indecision wracking his brain. This child was going to cost him men. "Go back to scouting, and report if you see any sign of enemies. Go!"

The four men broke off again, there horses galloping away in a clatter of hooves. The company continued on, each one holding weapon in paw, standing as close to the carriage as they could. Each one would die for the child a hundred times over, and if tonight did not go as planned, they would. Maslan gave the order, and they followed.

**

Twigs snapped and leaves crackled underneath the hooves of many horses as the company of assailants rode through the trees, their armor thoroughly muffled to prevent giving themselves away by the clinking of metal. The Colonel who led the assailants, Colonel Rholes, looked around at his men as they rode hard, hoping to be able to reach the enemy camp before they could be alerted. His hopes of this were shattered when he heard the sound of a shout and the release of an arrow.

He growled softly and then ordered a halt, turning his horse around to see a few of the men who had shouted pulling a tiger out of the trees, his unnatural black fur blending in surprisingly well with the night, the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his chest, the leather armor he wore having been of little protection from a long bow at such close range. They pulled him to the Lieutenant, the tiger's chest rising and falling as he took his last shallow breaths.

Rholes growled in disgust at the mess that the male was, getting off of his horse and kneeling, gripping the tiger by the chin and forcing the other to look into his eyes, "I'm assuming that they are close, yes?" he said, his eyes staring into the other's.

The tiger stared calmly at the wolf, his breathing coming in shallower and shallower as he stared. "I wouldn't tell you," he said, his voice coming in pants, "if you were standing in the middle of them, you blood-sword bastard."

Rholes grinned maliciously, baring his teeth as he kicked at the tiger's hip, breaking his calm and causing him to yelp out with what little breath he could draw, "We'll find them eventually," he growled to the tiger, "And the wretch and her boy will be dead shortly after."

The tiger's eyes widened as he panted loudly, blood gushing from his chest with every breath. "How did you...?" he began to ask, but Rholes cut him off by stabbing him in the throat with a long knife, the blade making a sickening crunching sound as the broad blade crushed through bone and flesh alike.

"Leave the body," Rholes growled at his men, using the tiger's black clothing to wipe his blade before jamming it back into it's sheath, kicking the tiger's body one last time. "The prey we hunt is bigger and stronger."

The men of the company around him all grinned, clapping each other on the backs as they climbed onto their horses. Not a single one of them had ever considered the possibility of failure. They were the best trained men that the Blood had to offer, in many different fields. As Rholes climbed back onto his own mount, a group of surprisingly large men surrounded him, each one nodding to him before continuing their searching of the trees. These men were his personal guard, and wouldn't fail except at the expense of their own lives. They were dead if he died anyways.

The wind changed, and Rholes raised his head into it, his eyes closing tightly as he inhaled air through his nose. "Wood smoke from the west," one of his guard said, his deep voice booming out of his throat as he looked at the Colonel.

Rholes nodded his head, turning his horse in that direction before raising his arm and gesturing for his company to move. "Let's go!" he shouted, "we're near to our target! One more push and then a battle, and glory will be ours! We will send our enemies to their graves and receive the blessings of our god! Warm beds and rest await us when we return from our trip, and our trip is done within an hour! Let's move!" He spurred his horse after his final words, and began to ride.

A few of the more foolish men of the company got ready to howl, the forming howls quickly silenced by rather hard slaps to the back of the heady by those who were slightly more sensible, their horses already making enough noise as they galloped through the trees. No matter how well they were trained, none of the fools were sensible enough for Colonel Rholes, who only led the expedition with this particular company because he was ordered to.

He spurred his horse faster, the animal speeding it's way through the trees, the end of the trees in sight as he leaned closer over his horse, the men flowing along behind him in as neat as ranks as possible within the tight confines of the trees. 'Blood will be spilled tonight,' he thought to himself as he neared the opening. 'God of Death let it not be mine.' he said, his lips moving in silent prayers.

**

Men rushed through the camp, quickly joining the steadily forming and very neat rows of men that lined the front of the camp, staring at the trees. The men knew which direction the enemy was coming from, and that there was only one company of men coming, but that did not reassure them any. They shifted, nervous about the upcoming battle with the blood, the lines of hundreds of men apiece staring at the trees, licking lips and smelling the anxiety of the men around them.

The reason they were afraid of such a small amount of men were because of the content of the company coming to them. The blood worked almost exclusively with battle mages, those who were skilled in the use of violent magic. They only had one, compared to the possibility of an entire company of them. That one, was the General. Not only would he be a primary target for being the King of the Blood's largest enemy, but also because he was the only thing that could stop them from killing every man in the lines with magic.

The General sat, sniffing the air as he waited, his eyes closed tightly as he searched for the bitter sweet smell that would fill the air when magic was being used, almost as anxious as his men. 'Just long enough for Maslan to escape,' he thought to himself as he finally caught the smell. He closed his eyes tightly and allowed the ice hot feeling of the magic to flood through his veins, his lips moving as he whispered spells quickly, the final word leaving his lips just in time for an invisible shield to form over his men, catching the first strike against them. "Here they come!" he shouted as his men shifted anxiously, feeling the magic lay across their skin.

His men wouldn't be able to smell the magic as he could, however, they would feel it lay across them as if someone had poured an entire bucket of oil down their fur. He continued to hold the spell, his concentration straining as more and more was thrown at them. Fireballs, lightning strikes. Everything that could possible be imagined by the enemy was being thrown against the shield.

All of a sudden, they were coming. The first of them made it to his ranks rather fast, their horses charging down the slopes from the trees and hitting the first rank of men, one horses neighing loudly as it failed to jump a soldier's spear, the weapon taking it in the throat, causing the man on top of it to fall from his mount, where he was quickly dispatched.

Maslan, the General thought to himself, his lips moving in a prayer, 'get them to the farm safely.' That was the last thing he could think before he had to focus everything on the shield. With the end of his thoughts, and his prayers, he threw himself into the battle besides his men, his horse taking him to wherever the battle was going the worst, the well trained soldiers of the blood almost pushing through despite being outnumbered by almost two to one.

Even with the shield up, men still died from fire and lightning summoned by the blood, but nowhere near as many as there could have been. The General focused his mind on the task at hand, and didn't think about his wife, his son, and his ex-lover.

**

Maslan grunted as he heaved, his back working as he yanked his blade from the chest of the assailant, his eyes closing tightly as he panted. They had met the second company that the blood had sent after the child, and being forced to use magic and blade at the same time had drained the poor wolf of all of his strength. He looked around wearily at his men, all wounded in at least one way, and four lying dead. "Treat the wounded!" he shouted, "And leave the dead! We have no time to bury them!"

His men looked at him in concern, then at the bodies, before sighing in resignation and tending to their wounds as Maslan walked to the carriage, opening it to peer inside. He saw the boy sleeping in his mother's arm, the little black wolf beautiful against his mother's white and black fur. He looked at the boy's mother, the woman who had replaced him at his General's side, and said, "Are you alright, ma'am?" he asked her gently.

She looked at Maslan, having no idea of what she had stolen from him, and nodded her head, "Yes." she said, looking down at her baby and stroking his cheek a bit as he slept, "yes, I'm fine." she said with a smile. "Will we be moving soon?" she asked softly, wanting to be prepared for it.

"Yes Ma'am," he said as he stepped back out of the carriage, "I'll inform you when we leave."

He heard her muffled thank you through the door and grumbled softly to himself as he walked back to his horse. The road was a field of blood and carnage, the dead laying all around and crows circling above, waiting for their chance to feed. He looked back at the camp, a much larger swarm of carrion birds flying above it. 'I pray for you General,' he thought to himself, 'Be safe.'

It would be eighteen years until the next time he saw the General, and in the meantime, he would protect his son with his own life. For the General.