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The pen was cold, and it was dark. Healmsley stood shivering, huddled against at least a hundred other wolves. They were all nude, their physiques, for better or worse were all displayed to each other. Healmsley saw some others he knew, Ragnar, Hjalmar. Wolves who once hailed from all corners of the empire, that had now found their living in a small village in the back garden of a Vulpine manor. Like Healmsley his village-men were fit, stomachs flat and biceps toned. The other wolves, servants from the manor he guessed by the way he heard them refer to the foxes as "Masters" were not so fit. Too old, too fat, too skinny, none would have been soldiers in the old world.

Wait, where are the women? He noticed that not a single woman was in the pen, he wasn't sure if that was for better or worse.

"Surely the Masters just want us to train these new arrivals!" one of the servant wolves said. He was an older, frail looking wolf, near blind who kept his arms wrapped around himself for warmth trying to make up for the dwindling fur. "This is all just a showing to make sure they know their place before..."

"Shut up Greymuzzle! Fuck the Foxes!" Hjalmar yelled, the young wolf looking like he was ready for a war. Now there's a soldier I could've used! Healmsley thought to himself, a fire in his bones seeing Hjalmar's passion against the foxes.

"And tell me pup, how do you plan to 'fuck the foxes?' Stab them in their toes until their slightly annoyed?" The old wolf responded, still shaking. "The war is over, we lost, the Foxes' magic made sure of that! Don't think I'm happy about it at all, but we have to survive!"

"By what? Licking the boots of those Godsdamned foxes?! I'd rather die!" Ragnar responded, in support of his twin brother!

"Then I guess you will." The Old wolf said, turning his back to them "idiot pups." Healmsley quickly put a hand on Ragnar's shoulder, claws digging deep to warn the young wolf off from attacking the greymuzzle.

"We'll figure a way out of this." Healmsley said, using the stern but fatherly tone of voice he had developed over years of turning wild pups like Ragnar and Hjalmar into disciplined Knights of the Lunar Order. In the corner there was a wolf sobbing. Godsdamn neutered softpaw! He looked to be about Ragnar and Hjalmar's age, but the fat around his belly and face made him look younger than the two fine young wolves that flanked Healmsley's side.

"I want to go home" He sobbed, tears streaking his thick well groomed fur "I swear I'll lose the weight, I just want to sleep in Master's room again!" Healmsley debated letting go of Ragnar's shoulder for a moment. Gods is this what they've reduced us to? Before Healmsley could even start to wonder about the wolf sleeping in a Fox's room the pen was flooded with light!

The black towel covering the pen had been pulled off. They were at the edge of the Manor's back garden, a few precious steps from the now comforting winding confusion of the forest. A few steps for the foxes, a mad sprint for us! On the other side, towering above the pen were various Foxes, most all of them dressed in expensive impractical clothes. Puffed collars, thick skirts, uncomfortable but fashionable shoes abound. Healmsley spied a young wizard in a long black silk robe, idly sipping from a golden goblet of wine. Is this a party? What are they planning? A few foxes caught his eye, all of them young with slightly dyed fur, the latest fashion among the Vulpine nobility to make their fur colors more vivid. There was something off about them, while their garments still looked expensive, they also looked more practical. Something young nobles would wear when playing sport or...

_NO!_Before Healmsley could even begin to dread what this meant, it was confirmed for him. A horn bellowed throughout the garden, nearly shattering the ears of all the tiny wolves. It was a hunting horn!

The arrow sang as it rushed through the wind, hitting the beast right through the head. _You still got it Knight!_Healmsley slung his bow over his shoulder and went to retrieve his kill as it fell to the ground a few meters ahead of him. _Good, clean kill, no buzzing around this time!_The creature was a bee, something Healmsley used to look at simply as the insects his brother raised as a hobby, but that was back when he could swat them away with a paw. Now he could've ridden the beast, if it's claymore sized stinger didn't skewer him as he tried. It was a big fat bee too. _This will keep the village fed for months!_He thought excitedly as he waved for his fellow hunters to help him bag his kill.

Twenty years ago Healmsley lived in a Castle, ate fine seared meats every night, and would tower over the foxes he slew in battle. Now he crept along the forest floor, blending into the grass as he hunted bumble bees and battled ants. His once fine expensive evening clothes were replaced by various things he and others had scavenged from litter left behind, his manor was now a cabin made of sticks. The village that Healmsley now called home didn't seem that foreign to him really, it reminded him of a number of poorer villages he had ridden through as a youth, places with simple wooden houses that were built by the current inhabitants forefathers, places where a wolf would die in the same corner he was born, a place with a startlingly shrinking gene pool. That was the kind if place he now called home, like most of those villages it resided on a vast empty stretch of meadow-land. Unlike those villages other villages though, its entirety could fit into a single house. It was like that for all of Lupine kind now.

The war with the Foxes started like any War for the wolves. It was their Gods given right that Luna smiled upon all the corners of the world, if the foxes could not accept that as fact the wolves would teach them the error of their ways, with force if necessary. Like all campaigns for the wolves it started well, the Foxes lost more and more territory each battle, the Wolves would own this land by the next yuletide feast. The wolves had instigated a war for three years. The foxes had won it in a day.

On the morning of the 39thof The Fifth Travel of Luna, 839 all of wolf kind had awoken with an odd sensation in their bones, as if their bodies had collapsed in on themselves. They weren't far from the truth, on that day all of Lupine kind, from all ends of the empire had been affected by the Foxes' black magic! They had shrunken, every one of them, men, women and children. All ranging from one to three inches tall.

The Foxes faced little resistance as they marched to take back their homelands, wolves who hadn't died by rolling out of bed to find themselves falling thirty feet, were instead turned into stains under a soldiers boot. In two days the Foxes had taken back Foxfurt, their capital city. In a week they were expanding into Lupine territory. In a month, A fox crowned himself Emperor as he usurped the throne of the wolves.

The other species of the Lupine empire offered little resistance as the foxes drove forward, some even came out in droves to watch the soldiers march as if it were a victory parade. Those few pockets who did fight for Luna soon faced a similar fate, a tiny stain on a green soldier's shiny new boots. The day King Reynard IV had taken the throne for the Foxes and crowned himself Emperor Vulpino I he had called for a grand feast, with all the high nobility of the Vulpine Empire in attendance. The emperor had promised a special morsel for the main course. When the guests had opened the fine silver lids from their dishes, they truly found something special to eat.

All captured members of the Lupine nobility were spread out among the plates, arms and legs bound, mouths gagged. On the Emperor's plate lay the Royal Family, squirming desperately against their bonds. None of the vulpine nobility spoke as Emperor Vulpino lifted Crown Princess Ohpelia in his hands. The beautiful wolf once had every nobleman her age, some even older, fighting for her hand in marriage. Now she had fallen into the hands of a hungry fox. The Empress sobbed as Vulpino I slowly dropped her into his open maw, making sure the rest of her family could see as he let her wash down his throat with a sip of wine from the former Emperor's private stock.

"My friends! Countrymen! Tonight we feast!"

Healmsley hadn't seen Vulpino I's debut feast. He thanked the Gods every day he hadn't, simply hearing the stories had given him nightmares that had lived persistently in his head for the last twenty years. _Should I even be thanking the Gods? Do they still live?_He wondered if perhaps the Fox's God had shrunken and murdered his Gods as well as his Emperor, he wouldn't put it past the heretics who now lived in his manor. As he stood up and left his cabin the fresh smell of cooked bee flooded his nostrils.

"Here ya go Lord Healmsley, I know the legs are your favorite!" the pup holding the plate said to him. A meaty, steamed leg lay on the plate of wound twigs. _It's no seared lamb, but it'll do._Healmsley graciously took the leg, digging his teeth into it.

"Thank you Fenrir!" Healmsley said to the pup. Since the Emperor's death, his namesake had become a popular one for male pups. Perhaps the parents thought one of the many Fenrirs in the various small villages would someday lead their people back to their former glory. I'd bow to the wolf who led me back to my full height personally.

"Anytime Lord Healmsley! Perhaps later you could tell me another story?" This Fenrir responded, his tail wagging as he looked up at him. This pup hadn't even been alive when Healmsley had held the title of Lord.How many wolves will grow up with only stories of the Lupine Empire.

"Of course, do you want to hear the one about the Bisonmen of the hinterlands?" Healmsley swallowed a thick chunk of leg "or the time I slew a haughty Fox prince!"

"That one that one! Fuck the foxes!" Fenrir yelled, Healmsley nearly choked laughing.

"Pup, does your mother hear you use that kind of language?!" The pup's tail tucked between his legs. "Been around Hjalmar and Ragnar again I see."

"They were telling me about the Empire, and of the time they met Emperor Fenrir!" He responded excitedly.

"Boy, they never met Emperor Fenrir, Gods they were still sucking on their Mother's milk when the Empire fell!"

"I know, but the way they tell it is so fun!" Healmsley smiled, those two idiots did know how to spin a good tale. "Did you ever meet the Emperor Lord Healmsley? You weren't drinking your mother's milk then?"

"Are you calling my muzzle gray, pup? I'll have you know I could easily best you in a footrace AND in a duel!" Healmsley's laughter continued, his own tail wagging as if he were a pup too. "But aye, I did once, when I was a pup no older than you! I was at a tourney with my father. At the time Emperor Fenrir was only Prince Fenrir. Watching that wolf I swear to you, pup, had the foxes not tapped into their dark magic Emperor Fenrir would have personally placed that pretender Vulpino's head on a spike!"

"I might have to make Hjalmar and Ragnar tell me the story of the time Emperor Fenrir killed the Pretender Fox!" the young Fenrir said with a grin. "Do you think the Empire will ever rise back up Lord Healmsley?" No!

"Yes, I don't think it's any coincidence that you have just the right name for the job!"

"Fucking hell Lord Healmsley, the bee will feed us for weeks!" Willem complained as he pulled on his boots, simple things carved from a patch of stolen leather that the village had used to provide most of the villagers with clothes. Clothes that they planned to make last for generations perhaps but clothes nonetheless.

"Just give me an hour, please!" Healmsley said as he tightened the strings on his bow. He didn't expect or even care to find new quarry today, but he couldn't stand to leave these pups in the tavern all day today. Nor did he want some ants sneaking up on the village, the last time a scout found the village he buried twelve wolves. "Then I'll personally buy you lot a round!" As he elicited cheers from the pups he was about to drag into the woods he felt a rumble on the ground, and then another. Before he could even stop to think what they were the door to the hunting lodge burst open, young Fenrir panting as his small frame stood in the door way.

"FOXES!"

"One, two, three, four..."

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Both foxes spoke in accents that betrayed their poor up-bringing, their cloaks composed of well made materials embroiled with the crest of the Noble Family who now lived in Healmsley's manor.

"Counting, Duke Ludwin said he wanted two tens of wolves. Half men half women!" The other fox responded. "One, two, three..."

"Well will you hurry up?! I'm bloody starving! Ol' Nan promised a cooked goat tonight to celebrate our promotions!"

"Intellectuals can't be rushed! Now shut up and let me count!" The other fox snarled back! Healmsley, like nine other male wolves, was packed tightly into a small pen. Large enough to hold all of them but small enough for the Foxes to easily carry. Next to their pen was one filled with ten female wolves. On the forest floor around their cages were bodies, so many bodies. Willem's body was sprawled out a few meters from the pen. He had been one of the first to fall to the Fox's boot. _So Many dead._Healmsley could barely remember the attack, had he hit his head? It did throb throb like an early morning hangover after a wondrous feast! "Nine, Ten! Alright that's it! Two tens, let's get out of here!"

"FUCK THE FOXES!" For a moment Healmsley's heart lept from his chest! The passion, the anger. The voice sounded a thousand stories tall. Did the Gods hear us finally?

"Oi, fucking hell!"The other fox said, more annoyed than anything "runt pierced my boot!" The fox picked up his tiny attacker, Young Fenrir quickly dropped the almost comically oversized spear as he was lifted of the ground, squirming between the fox's fingers. "Persistent bugger!" He said with a laugh, "What should we do with him oh Count?"

The counting fox made a lewd gesture towards his companion. "I don't know?! We have our two tens! Just toss him or something!"

"Well I am kinda hungry..."

"Alright, just chew your damn food this time!"

Ayer van Ludwin, Second Son of Duke Charles Ludwin, Heir to the Meadowlands of the Former Lupine Empire, tossed back his second goblet of wine. His father's gift heavy on his left hip.

"A new invention made by some of the Emperor's finest. They call it a Firearm!" His father had said to him as he looked over the ornate device. A wooden stock, with wood carvings of the Empire's symbol surrounded a polished steel barrel. "I have contacts that tell me they plan to supply the entire Army with Firearms twice this size within ten years." Ayer started to drift off from his father's ramblings about politics until he described how it worked, then the young Fox's eyes went wide with excitement!

His fine boots strode through the tender grass of the back garden. Ayer imagined that every step he took had a wolf underneath. Be it a poor servant, a thief, or a savage. _Soon!_He lightly patted his firearm as he joined his friends, young foxes his age from lesser nobles houses. He stood next to Erin, the daughter of Duke Ludwin's most powerful banner-man, and the best shot with a bow among his friends.

"Ready to get some revenge?" She asked, looking down at the pen with a hungry grin.

"Oh you know it!" Ayer replied, tossing away his goblet. None of them were actually old enough to even remember the events they were avenging, but every annual hunt they had the same exchange! Collective tails wagged as the hunting horn blew and a servant ran over to open the gate of the pen, the wolves all howling and growling nervously inside before bolting out. Ayer grinned "Let the games begin!"

Run, just run! For a moment Healmsley was lost in a flood of bodies, a hundred wolves all running for their lives the second the gate opened. He saw the old shivering wolf trip just as he made it out of the gate. No one stopped to help him, not even Healmsley as the old wolf was trampled underneath the others who ran to preserve their own lives. The Foxes of the hunting party stood still by the pen they had flooded from, letting their quarry make it to the forest. Healmsley reached the forest and looked back, to see the fat wolf kneeling and praying by the old wolf. "COME ON!" He yelled at the fat whelp, only to have his calls ignored. He considered running out to grab the fat wolf and drag him into the woods himself, but then he saw the Foxes, they were approaching, some were walking, others jogging. Healmsley turned and ran deeper into the woods.

"Please forgive me Master, please forgive me Master." Ayer looked down at the fat wolf repeating his pathetic mantra, and the old wolf, barely alive but still twitching.

"Oh, you poor, poor things!" Ayer said, his large booted paws scant inches from the pair of wolves now. The fat wolf looked up at Ayer.

"Pl-please Master Ayer, Mercy! Mercy Please!" Ayer nodded, lowering his left paw down onto the old twitching wolf.

"Fret not Alexsander, neither of you will suffer long..." Ayer slowly pressed his boot down on the old wolf, feeling him weakly struggle as his old bones started to crack under the pressure of his boots. Alexsander cried as he watched the old wolf slowly being pressed to death.

"MASTER NO PLEASE!" He cried out as the old wolf tried to reach out to Alexander before totally disappearing underneath Ayer's boot with a sickening crack. Ayer smiled as he crouched down to get a closer look at the sobbing fat wolf.

"Don't cry Alexsander!" Ayer said to the tiny wolf, his voice dipping with predation "you get to let me try out my new toy!" Alexsander opened his eyes to look at Ayer as the barrel of the firearm was pressed against his belly. The hole at the end of the barrel large enough to engulf all of Alexsander's head. Ayer pulled the trigger.

Ayer had a spring in his step as his boots pressed against the floor of the forest, the gun at his hip still smoking. The rounded bullet had run through Alexsander's fat belly like a cannon ball, tearing through him and separating what was left of his torso from his legs. He had twitched a few times, arms to the sky desperately clinging to life before it faded from his tear filled eyes. Ayer almost wished he hadn't wasted so much time killing those two, it seems he had missed most of the hunt! He strode past the bodies of various wolves, some trampled into the dirt under boot, others skewed on arrows, Erin's handiwork most likely! Damn, did I miss the whole hunt? Ayer continued his strides forward, ears twitching trying to pick up some sign of life, leaves crunching beneath his boot. He stopped, the fox had heard a softer crunching, just outside his peripheral vision, the sound of small bare paws trying to step softly. Ayer grinned as he turned around to see a well built young wolf trying to sneak away from him. "And just where do you think you're going?"

The wolf ran, Ayer had to admit he was fast, but as his size fast meant nothing with Ayer able to catch up to his sprint with a few casual strides, reaching down to grab the wolf, gripping him not too gently, the sound of ribs cracking between his fingers like music to the fox. He lifted the struggling wolf to him, locking eyes. Lot of fight in this one! "Well Hello there!"

"Fuck you!" The wolf screamed at him, 'forcing' Ayer to tighten his grip, the scream turned from anger to agony as the ribs started to break.

"What's your name brave little wolf?" A shame he seems to wild to domesticate, he's attractive! A nice bad boy flair about him.

_"_My name...." The wolf spit out a bit of blood, it seems that Ayer had been a bit too tight on his grip. "is Ragnar Magnusson, and I am going to die like a wolf, not licking your boots like a domestic do-ARGH!" Ayer had given him another squeeze, more bones snapped.

"Oh don't you worry Ragnar, I'll make sure you die licking my boots!"

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Healmsley ran past another shamble of bodies, two more wolves trampled to death, their blood staining the grass, but they were lucky compared to the wolf who still lived. Another servant wolf, impaled on an arrow that was shot into the ground, piercing another wolf. He had to have been picked up and placed on the tail end of the arrow. Did he breakdown like that fat wolf? Was he just too slow. The tail end of the arrow came out the side of his neck, the wolf still twitching as he desperately tried to die. By the Gods. Was this how he was going to die? Healmsley Kobenhav? Commander of Lunar Order, scourge of the vulpine. Had the Gods truly abandoned him? His people? Or maybe the Fox's God has a twisted sense of humor! Were all these wolves dying for his transgressions? Was it not enough the Foxes occupied his manor? Gods Dammit, Luna demanded a sacrifice, what was I supposed to do?!_Healmsley had grown lost in his thoughts as he wondered forward, slowing his pace to a cautious creep but not exactly keeping his situational awareness. His thoughts wondered back to the blood moon, to the pyre. _"And I swear to you, you will all be struck down! Yours sons and daughters made slaves and your Empire trampled into a footnote of history!"

"LORD HEALMSLEY!" Hjalmar screamed at the wolf lost in thoughts. "By the Gods I've been trying to get you to respond for a minute!" Healmsley shook his head, leaving the horrors of the past to face those of the present. "Lord Healmsley?"

"Yes...yes sorry Hjalmar...I just....sorry!" Healmsley was still looking at the servant wolf twitching. If I had my bow! He could see the Fox god laughing at him as he watched this wolf suffer with no way to grant him mercy.

"Lord Healmsley, listen! Do you hear it? A river, it can't be more than fifty trees away!" Hjalmar said excitedly, trying to keep his attention. "If we can make it there we can escape. We can float down it until we're far far away from this Gods forsaken place!" Healmsley did hear the river, he knew the river. He used to fish in it as a boy.

"Y....yes....we can... WE CAN!" Healmsley finally realized what this meant. They could escape, they could sail as far down as the river went. Are you laughing now Fox God?

Ayer had been worried that the drop had killed Ragnar, he almost left the wolf where he fell until he heard a cough and a weak "Fuck the foxes!" Ayer grinned as he crouched down over the dying wolf. Good, don't want to make this too fast.

"I bet you're hurting quite a bit? Aren't you brave little wolf?" Ayer said, standing back up, holding a booted foot over Ragnar. "I can help end that for you, all you have to do is accept your people's station."

"FUCK YOU!" Ayer shivered and laughed at the wolf's anger. How much life force did it take him to shout like that? How much pain did it cause him? Ayer almost felt bad about killing such a determined wolf, almost. He'd make a terrible slave anyways, no manners!_Ayer said nothing as he slowly lowered his boot down onto Ragnar. Even the lightest touch caused Ragnar to howl in agony as he padded at the wolf's broken ribs. Ayer almost wanted to take off his boot, to feel the wolf squirm desperately underneath his toes, feel flesh against flesh. _Alas, no wolves to clean my feet nearby, can't return home with soil and blood on my pads! He'd make do with the boot for now, he could always crush a servant barefoot later tonight, though they didn't have half the fight this wolf had. Oh well, maybe I'll crush two or three to make up for it. That thought made him smile, maybe grab a couple, make the woman pleasure him lest he crush her lover. But back to the task at hand...or foot! He began to press down on the wolf's body, careful not to crush anymore bones than he already had. "FURHHHHJJJJ" Ragnar's attempts at vulgarity towards the Vulpine Empire had turned simply into howls of agony before giving ways to sobs. "PLRELRE!" Ayer lifted his boot a bit, he had pressed a bit harder than he'd thought, the wolf's chest now concave, his breathing pained and slow, his head pressed down.

"Hm? Sorry what was that? You really need to speak up!" Ragnar coughed up blood as he struggled to form words, his tongue having been bit to pieces as his teeth had been crushed down onto it. Ayer hovered his boot right over Ragnar "I can end this anytime you want, all I need is a simple lick!"

Ragnar had done a lot of painful, hard things throughout his years, and he had accomplished them all having once even killed an ant with his bare hands when he was sixteen! But this, this was the hardest thing he'd ever done as he struggled to peel himself off the ground, feeling crushed ribs dig into his lungs, praying to the Gods he could just touch his tongue to the boot to end this agony. He was getting closer, his broken snout right against the tread of the boot. He was almost there, humiliation be damned, he just wanted it to end! He was ready to drag his tongue across the tread of cruel mercy, but he couldn't. As he moved his tongue muscle nothing emerged from his lips, it was all a phantom feeling. His tongue lay on the ground next to him. Blood leaked from his mouth and eyes as he sobbed.

"Well isn't that a shame!" Ayer turned around and walked away.

"It's got to be just around this bend!" Hjalmar said as the two of them jogged towards the sounds of the river. They hadn't seen foxes in what felt like hours, dropping their caution as they started to freely run towards the river that seemed to be further away with every passing tree. _You said that five times already!_Healmsley didn't want to tell Hjalmar that the river may be further than either of them had thought. He didn't want to believe that they wouldn't reach it. _If this is another one of the Fox God's tricks!_The pair kept jogging though, hoping that the next tree they'd pass would reveal a river running straight to freedom. "It's got to be getting close!" Hjalmar turned around to say to Healmsley, he didn't even register the boot in front of him as he ran into it, felling onto his back.

"Well what do we have here?" The Fox towered over them, a noble fox with dyed fur and a smoking gun on his hip. "Two more stragglers? And I was thinking that I'd missed all the fun!"

Hjalmar scrambled to his feet, backing away from the fox. "Pl...please....just let us walk! You had foxes had your hunt!" Ayer laughed, a thick, loud laugh that rang in the ears of Healmsley and Hjalmar, it sounded like the growls of the dragon that tried to eat the Moon. A horrid noise from legend that Healmsley never thought he would hear a replication of.

"That's it? No 'Fuck the foxes?' No damning of my God? I thought you wild wolves were supposed to be tooth and claw fighters!" Ayer took a step towards them "Well I guess they can't all be as fun as that Ragnar fellow!"

Hjalmar "R-Ragnar?" Healmsley could see Hjalmar's fur going gray with terror as the fox spoke his brother's name.

"Yes, fun little wolf! A real fighter!" tears welled up in Hjalmar's eyes, realization sweeping over him like a monsoon. "He's a brisk hike back that way, if you hurry you might catch him before his lungs collapse!" Ayer grinned as Hjalmar started to actually cry, sad desperate sobs like he was a pup crying for his mother's milk. Ayer shifted his focus over to Healmsley "and who are....YOU!" Ayer's eyes shot wide as he looked down at Healmsley. "I know you! I know that face!"

"Here we gather, in the Light of Luna's Blood!" Healmsley stood, clad in ceremonial garb passed through the Kobenhav family for generations. Long red and white silk robes that fell down to his bare foot paws, the grass between his toes. He held a finely carved wooden torch, a gift from his uncle he had received when he joined the Order. Servants from his castle and peasants from his village stood gathered around him, the light of the blood moon overhead. Behind Healmsley stood a pyre, The Gods' favorite way of receiving offerings. Scattered along the wood of the pyre was various trinkets, jewelry, food. Things the wolves thought would please the Gods. In the center was a log cut from a nearby tree, it stood towering like a proud ornament.

"And in the light of Luna's Blood we celebrate. For Blood has built the Lupine Empire! From the campaigns of Salir the Third against the Bison Men, to the Rebellion of the Coyotes, the Lupine Empire has been built by blood, and held together by blood!" Blood would run in these fields twenty years from now, the blood of wolves killed for sport by foxes. "And tonight the God's demand blood and sacrifice!"

"UNHAND ME YOU SAVAGES!" A fox was brought out, naked, hands bound with two wolves in similar garb to Healmsley's flanking each side. The fox was tall, with noble dyed fur. "I am Solaris van Ludwin, First Son of Lord Charles Van Ludwin and I will NOT be paraded around like this for your pagan heresies!" The fox yelled, spitting at Healmsley. He approached the fox, the wolf easily a head taller than him.

"You will stay your tongue in the presence of the Gods!" Healmsley said as the two wolves led Solaris to the log in the middle of the pyre, binding his hands to it. Healmsley followed behind, handing the torch to one of the guards and pulling a ceremonial dagger from his belt. "My friends, the Gods have smiled on us!"

"YOUR GODS ARE FALSE!"

"And these fine gifts you have all given will ensure that they continue to smile on us!"

"YOUR EMPIRE WILL FALL I SWEAR TO YOU!"

Healmsley cut the dagger across the palm of his hand paw, letting the blood drip onto the wood.

"YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS WILL LIVE AND DIE IN OUR SHADOWS!"

Healmsley took the torch back from the guard, letting the fire touch the wood.

"I SWEAR THIS TO YOU"

And I swear to you, you will all be struck down! Yours sons and daughters made slaves and your Empire trampled into a footnote of history!

Ayer strode excitedly back towards the manor, Healmsley held tightly in hand. "This truly is a blessed day!" Ayer said as he strode over the bloodstained grass, feeling Hjalmar's body squirm and struggle underneath his bare footpaw inside his boot. He was much more respectful than his brother, if he survives the journey perhaps I'll add him to my stable. The grand hall looked all too familiar to Healmsley, it had barely changed at all save for the change in portraits. Once where proud Wolves stood in Armor, his forefathers painted throughout the centuries, instead now hosted portraits of foxes, artisans, musicians, nude men and women.

They ascended the stairs that Healmsley had ascended many times himself when he called this manor home. Thirty-three steps exactly, he'd counted them when he was younger and had kept that number in his head for forty years, it being one of the few comforts he could rely on. Now those numbers had turned on him. The 'trio' walked down the hall, entering into the Master Bedroom, what had once been Healmsley's bedroom.

"Father I bring you the greatest gift of all on this most blessed of days!"

Healmsley looked up at the sole painting of a wolf that was left. It was a painting of him, when he was first inducted into the order. Armor all shiny and new, fur neatly trimmed. The reference points low by his hips to enunciate his stature. That wolf seemed like a world away from the tiny, naked, terrified thing standing on Charles van Ludwin's desk. "A fine piece isn't it!" The old fox said, as strode around his desk. He was dressed simply, a fine silk tunic and simple comfortable pants. Duke Ludwin strode barefoot on the soft carpet that adorned the master bedroom, looking down at Healmsley. "A shame the artist was killed when I took this manor, I would've liked my portrait done by him!" Duke Ludwin sat at the desk, looking down at Healmsley. "You know it's funny. I've spent the past twenty years wanting revenge for what you did to my son. When your body wasn't found when we took your Manor I held out hope you would be found by our search parties. When that didn't happen I moved into your manor, I arranged these hunts, I put thousands of your kind to death over the years, all in the hopes of finding a way to take vengeance on you. And now I have you alone, in my chambers, at my mercy and..." Healmsley was waiting, hoping that Duke Ludwin was about to start to lecture about forgiveness and mercy like in the words of the great Lupine Dramas of the 6th century. "now my only regret is that I can only kill you once."

It had been a week since Duke Ludwin had 'hosted' Healmsley in his chambers. The Duke was serious about his regretting that he could only kill Healmsley once, so he didn't, not yet.

"You will learn to bow like so may of your other kind! You will worship the ground I walk on, if I cannot kill your body I will kill your soul!" Healmsley of course refused at first, he wanted to die with a shred of dignity left. He wanted to face the Gods and say that even in his darkest hour he stood tall as a Knight of The Lunar Order! Duke Ludwin was not so merciful as to grant Healmsley's request.

The first one was a young field worker. A red wolf named Eris, hardly older than Ragnar or Hjalmar. "Yo-you summoned me m'lord?" The wolf had asked the towering fox as he entered the chamber through the servants door, small doors carved into all of the manor doors to allow the wolves to enter where needed.

"Yes, Eris is it?" Duke Ludwin said, sitting at his desk, Healmsley chained to a ring on Duke Ludwin's finger. The wolf tucked his tail between his legs.

"Y-yes m'lord!"the Duke curled his toes, standing up to sit on his bed, carrying Healmsley with him. The Duke stretched his footpaws out before the young wolf.

"Tell me, are you familiar with Lord Healmsley here?" The young wolf nodded nervously, the Duke curling his toes. "Lord Healmsley doesn't seem to find honor in tending to my feet. Do you agree with him on that sentiment young Eris?"

"N-no m'lord. I believe it is a most honorable position!" Duke Ludwin smiled, motioning towards his curling toes. Eris nervously stepped forward, placing hands against the padded sole of the left foot, starting to rub it. The Duke's foot easily towering over the wolf.

"Very good Eris, very good. It seems you know your place!" Healmsley looked down at the wolf, he was young enough to have either been born under the shadow of the Foxes or to have spent most of his life underneath it, he couldn't tell if that was a worse scenario than what his parents must have faced, to see their empire crumble, their lord vanish. "Do you see Lord Healmsley this is how your kind are supposed to behave." Duke Ludwin said to him, looking down as Eris moved over to rub the other foot. "Do you know the proper etiquette to worship your superiors Eris?" The young wolf didn't say a word, merely placed his tongue against Duke Ludwin's foot, dragging it up as he licked off lint from the carpet. The Duke purred in that way foxes did, it always disgusted Healmsley, almost as much as it disgusted him to see this young sturdy wolf licking the feet of the Fox who stole his manor. "Now Lord Healmsley, do you think you can follow young Eris' example? I believe you are capable of that at least!" Duke Ludwin loosened the chain from Healmsley's collar and deposited him on the floor, by his other foot. Eris was obediently licking away at the Duke's right foot. "Well? I'm waiting!" Healmsley stood his ground. Just crush me already you bastard!

Duke Ludwin frowned as he saw Healmsley's stasis. "Stubborn as ever I see? Very well then!" The foot Eris had been licking soon lowered down onto him, pinning the young wolf to the ground.

"M-m'lord!" The young wolf squeaked out in terror as he squirmed beneath Duke Ludwin's toes. Duke Ludwin pressed down on the wolf.

"Sorry Eris, but it seems Lord Healmsley needs to be taught the value of humility!" NO! The Duke pressed his barefoot down harder, sinking Eris into the carpet as he begged.

"M'LORD PLEASE, MERCY!" Eris howled in agony as Duke Ludwin buried the ball of his foot into Eris' chest, grinding it.

"Don't bet me for mercy boy, beg your Lord Healmsley!" Eris' look into Healmsley's eyes destroyed all sense of pride he had.

"PLEASE!" Eris howled out, tears staining his cheeks, Healmsley sprinted to the Duke's other foot, hesitantly licking it. It tasted heavily of salt, as he licked he could still hear Eris' screams.

"GODS DAMMIT I'M DOING WHAT YOU WANT STOP THIS!" Healmsley yelled up at Duke Ludwin, Eris' howling muffled by his toes. "MERCY!"

"Did you show my son mercy?" Eris' howls ended with a sickening crack.

"I'm just saying I don't get it, he asks us to get ten more than last year, then asks us to take em to his house!?" The foxes strode barefoot through the Manor, toes sinking into the soft carpet in the hallway.

"Four he asked for four!" The fox held up all ten of his fingers "Ten is this many!" He then held up two fingers on each hand to show his compatriot "Four is this many!"

"Oh lookit you, Lord in training it seems!" Between the pair were four wolves, two male, two female chained together, forced to walk the titanic distance of the hallway.

"Don't be envious just because Duke Ludwin sees my affinity for higher thinking!" After what must have felt like hours of brisk marching to the wolves, their fox 'guides' finally stopped at a door.

"I'm just curious as to why these wolves aren't part of this year's hunt is all!" The foxes quickly checked each other for unbutton collars and uncombed furs.

"Maybe the Duke wants to have some fun this year? See here's why I'm the Duke's official counter, I don't ask why he wants something! I just do my best to get it to him!"

"And you clearly succeed!" Duke Charles Ludwin said, having taken the initiative of the squabbling foxes to open the door for them. The two hunters quickly stood at attention ushering in the captive wolves. "Fine work boys!" Duke Ludwin said, handing the pair a sack of gold.

The early morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the Duke's bedroom. The four wolves he ushered in looked in abjact awe at the furnishings, none of them had memories of rooms not made of sticks and mud. To see lavish carpets, silk sheets and walls filled with portraits was completely alien to the four young wolves, who followed obidiently behind the Duke!

"Oh Slave, I've brought you a gift!" An older wolf emerged from under the bed, scars smattered across his fur. The kind of wolf that the others had heard tales of, the kind of wolf to yell 'fuck the foxes' with his last dying breath. The two males wagged their tales in excitement as they saw this legend come to life, regardless of his stature! The tails swiftly dropped when the wolf spoke.

"Why thank you Master!" Slave moved forward to kiss the toes of the Duke, hardly befitting of a wolf of legend. The portrait of the wolf that Duke Ludwin kept in his chambers looked a far cry from the pathetic beast intent on kissing each of the old fox's toes.

Duke Ludwin purred as the hunting horn sounded outside, the hunt of 860 was about to commence, each of the Bannerman's sons (and daughter in Erin's case) were sporting a freshly carved firearm much like Ayer's. Here's to progress. Duke Ludwin thought as he felt Slave's tongue drag along his toes. "Take your pick of one male and one female, they will be yours. Of course I'll expect you to train them to understand heirarchy. I know you are capable of that!" The Duke said as Slave picked out his pair, ushering them back under the bed.

"But who was that wolf in the painting?" The female wolf shouted to be heard over the cries of agony of the two wolves that Slave didn't pick.

Slave reclined on his 'bed' that was made up under Duke Ludwin's. A bit of cotton, a scrap of blanket and voila, bedroom for your tiny slaves. "No idea, Master just said he was an old enemy!"

Another scream erupted as the male wolf Slave had chose tucked his tail between his legs, a hot stream of piss flowing down his leg and onto the expensive carpet, Gods help him if Duke Ludwin ever found that stain.

"But but what happened to him! Surely you must know!" The female wolf shouted to her secondary captor, barely registering above the sound screams and broken bones outside the veil the Duke's sheets provided under the bed.

"I asked him once!" Slave said "He'd said that he was worried he could only kill the monster once!" Slave's tail started to wag "but then he told me he found a way to kill him a thousand times over!"