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Attack on the Danube

A Dictator must be a citizen of one of the thirty-three Republics, whether currently ruled by the Mercantile Republic or a foreign occupied territory.

In the rare cases of full citizenship being granted to a non-fox, they shall be exempt from serving as Dictator without exception.

It was a peaceful day in the Carpathian Basin. The birds were chirping and the sun was shining. Off in the distance, if you pointed your ears in the right direction, you could hear the mighty Danube rushing proudly downstream.

We had scouts watching the area and they would report back occasionally about fishing boats passing through. The only thing of immediate concern was a camp of charcoal-burners camped about five miles to the south, they were foxes but one could not count on your kin-species so long as wolves were holding their leashes. The fact was, if they wanted to live long and prosperous lives, they would report the band of armed foxes camping in the hills southwest of Pest immediately to the nearest constable. Their lives were hard enough under the wolven boot without risking the gallows.

I had taken one hundred of our foxes to this new camp along with my best officers and, of course, young Galip, whom was hogtied and thrown over the back of my horse. He had been refusing food and disposing of it, so he was force-fed and carried to the new camp in a manner befitting a brigand, not a noble. He wouldn't be much help in the coming mission, but I enjoyed his company and I'm sure any prisoners we take would get a kick out of smelling fox on this royal's fur.

Raising my nose, I sniffed at the fresh air. It was much cleaner than the air back at the northern camp, having not been blighted by the smell of unwashed foxes, horses, and overflowing latrines yet. Outside the command tent, I heard stakes being pounded and shelters being raised.

We were surrounded by walls of brown canvas and the tent had nothing save for a thick wooden table and chairs. Candles flickered on all four corners of the table, revealing the map of the area and my command staff: ever dependable Vito, pondering the map while rubbing at his brown-furred chin; and Livio, drinking from a flagon of ale while scratching at one of the many bare patches of skin on his face, a permanent scar from a childhood affliction of mange. Guy, Adjunct to Marshal Beaumont, was away but expected to return shortly.

“The scouts have been patrolling the river along this range," I picked up a short wooden baton with a fox's head made of silver capping it and scraped the nose of it along the Danube from Pest to the south of our camp. “There have been no signs of the river-ships yet. It is estimated that they'll pass us in two days at least."

“And we're to raid the ships, steal their supplies, and kill..."

“Kill as few as possible," I muttered, shaking my head, “Salvia will no doubt be lurking about too, make sure she doesn't pluck up every wolf on board."

The two officers stared at me. Vito glared at me with a look reserved for someone who had just stripped themselves in a Temple of Canis, while Livio bellowed with laughter.

“General," Vito said quietly, crossing his fingers together, “this is an unusual display of mercy."

“Vito, you daft prick!" Livio slapped the Lieutenant with his naked paw, causing Vito to shudder with disgust. Livio's mange was long-gone, but chimera didn't like to be around someone with missing patches of fur for fear of catching it. “Every wolf surviving our attack and the slavers will be a refugee. Guess where they'll go?"

“Pest."

“And the more that go there, the more mouths the governor has to feed if he lets them in. And the more likely that one of them is dumb enough to have loose lips and mention that they know about the depleted food stores in Pest."

“But if they know about the food stores, what makes you think they'll go to Pest?" Vito counter-argued.

“Where else would they go? Huddle in the villages in Carpathia when they know foxes are marauding the province? We'll show them mercy, aye, but we won't give them enough food for them to make a voyage back to anywhere further away than Pest," Livio leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Perhaps they'll even tell the people inside the walls about foxen mercy and someone'll let us in! I'm not banking on it, but it's possible, and if they don't, they might make our job easier once we're in!"

Vito was an officer through merit, having shown exceptional leadership and ability to learn through observing his superiors, despite his lowborn birth. Livio on the other hand, had no leadership abilities and showed no intention of learning conventional tactics, in fact, he was only a mere soldier in rank; but he impressed me with his attitude and unconventional ideas when he, breaking the chain of command, stepped forward when we were examining a ranch that we intended to raid and spoke up.

“There's a row of latrines over there, too many for it to be just a pit latrine. I bet you my balls we can tap the cesspool it leads to and light it ablaze!"

Sure enough, we were able to locate the underground cesspit not far from the latrines and start a rancid fire that spread to the ranch-lands. Ever since then, Livio has had a place at my command table, even when his tactics were so far out there that they weren't possible to execute. Not a bad place to be for a fox that was the sixth son of a dung-hauler.

“And then we'll send word to the northern camp and regroup at Pest," Vito tapped his claw on the red triangle denoting the northern camp, picking up a chess pawn shaped like a fox peasant in a hood and dragging it down to the gray houses by the Danube, placing him outside the northern gate. “A siege. Are you certain, General?"

“I don't like pitched battles, Vito, you know that, and the only thing I hate more than pitched battles are fucking sieges!" I grabbed the pawn by our southern camp and slammed it next to Vito's pawn. “But now is the time. We can't wait for Beaumont to get his act together, we'll all be old and infirm by then and I don't want to be second fiddle to that dandy. No, this shall be a siege led by General Marco, not a siege led by Marshal Beaumont!"

“And what if he responds to your letter with..."

“Make way! Make way!" a distance voice cried outside of the tent, drowned out by the heavy pounding of horse hooves against dirt.

“Speak of the devil," Livio muttered with a sigh.

The tent flap flew open as if a gale came through, but emerging from the daylight was Adjunct Guy, fur as gold as the sun and dressed in immaculate steel plate atop a bright pink gambeson with matching puffed trousers. He saluted, pounding his fist against his heart.

“My messenger has returned with Marshal Beaumont's response! He also comes bearing a prisoner!"

“A prisoner? You've got a brave messenger, Guy," I said. I was far more interested in the Adjunct's messenger joining us, rather than the Marshal's representative. Guy was a competent officer, but he represented the Marshal whom none of us had any respect for and combined with Guy's noble birth, which he was often eager to mention, this led to him being the least welcome officer at the command table, “see that he's rewarded."

Guy passed a rolled up scroll to me and sat down at the table, pouring himself a goblet of ale. A red wax seal was stamped on the roll with the insignia of Beaumont's house, a feral fox on all fours with a pointed hunting cap atop his head. Slicing the seal away, I rolled open the scroll and read it aloud.

I hope the day finds you well!

It is with my deepest regret that I must inform you that we cannot commit soldiers to your proposed attack on Pest, nor shall you lay siege to it. It is my order, as Marshal of the Republic and as a member of the house of Reynard, that you are to leave Pest alone until further orders.

Consequently, we must also deny your request for siege engineers, for reasons that I'm sure you'll understand.

As far our situation, we are holding the line in Croatia. The wolves occasionally attempt a skirmish but we drive them off easily and have suffered limited casualties. We're focused on re-appropriating wolven farms and ranches with proper fox owners.

May the war come to an end soon.

-Marshal Beaumont d'Reynard

“That puffed-up fool!" Livio barked, slamming his fist against the table.

“You speak ill of the Marshal, commoner?" Guy growled, baring his fangs.

“I do and I'll do it again, he is a fool!"

“General, are you going to allow this!?"

“I am. I'm not going to punish my foxes for speaking an undeniable truth," I said, rolling up the scroll and letting it fall on the table. Guy stared at me, barely holding back his outrage but covering up his teeth, “and you can report that back to Beamont if you like, I care not."

“The Marshal has a plan, I'm sure."

“His plan, dear Adjunct," I said, sniffing, “is to hold onto his gains indefinitely without daring to advance further, despite all signs pointing to him that he should assault. Hold the line!? If I ever give the order to hold our position, I want Vito to stab me in the back and take over the advance and he'll plowing do it!" I looked to Vito who nodded silently in agreement. “Wars aren't won by holding your position, they're won by never giving the enemy a moment's rest! Today you burn down a field, tomorrow you raid a village, and the day after, you take a city! You keep on doing that, never resting for a moment, until you're right on top of your foe and you plow him in the tailhole!"

Livio pounded the table in roaring applause while Vito smiled, clapping lightly. Guy looked less impressed, sulking in his chair with his nose wrinkled.

“You intend to disobey the Marshal's orders?"

“I intend to win the war and as long as I get results, the Doge won't give a toss who obeys what orders."

And I knew the Doge would have to declare someone in the military Dictator sooner or later and that person wouldn't be Beaumont, who was despised by the commoners and the Senators were receiving regular complaints about his performance from officers. Along with that, he was wasting time kicking out wolven land-owners, a strategy that only should be deployed on disobedient subjects or landlords that are widely hated. This would cause chaos come harvest time in Croatia as the new fox owners would inevitably fail to deliver a harvest up to par with the wolven lords, causing resentment among the populace and this would come back to haunt him and the Republic. He'll have Croat foxes crying out for the wolves as their saviors, a terrifying thought.

In some ways, Beaumont's incompetence was helping my ambitions. If he had been more military-minded, we could have led a proper assault and ended the war with a decisive victory by now, negating the need for a Dictator. I could win victory after victory, but Beaumont would end up dragging the war out and wasting the Republic's money and resources, provoking a crisis, one that the Doge would be forced to respond to by appointing someone who can handle it.

And Pest was central to this. I stood there, only a few days away from the capital of Carpathia, with the opportunity to take it once and for all. To prove that I'm capable, worthy of the title of Hero of the Republic, worthy to rule without restriction, to take the Republic where it needed to go.

All I had to do was make a winning strategy before the cargo ships passed us.

“Adjunct," Vito broke the silence, folding his fingers together and narrowing his eyes slyly, “you said your messenger apprehended a prisoner?"

A faint scent wafted into the room, like burning sulfur if it were a mile away. Guy was nervous and trying to hide it. The question was, why didn't he apply perfume? Even poor Livio rubbed his scent glands with day-old meat gravy before attending meetings. Did he think he had nothing to hide? What changed?

“Yes," he muttered blankly, voice devoid of any emotion, “yes, he's just outside. I should call him in..."

Guy trailed off, saying nothing more and lowering his head shyly.

Livio finally barked out an order to whoever was listening outside. Two guards in rattling chain-mail marched in, flanking a wolf with graying brown fur who wore a blue tunic with black hose. His arms were tried behind his back, but he still managed polite bows to all the officers seated in the room.

“Battle plans, hm? Or perhaps a game of chess?" he nodded towards the pawns surrounding the city, broad muzzle gaining a creeping smile.

“We'll ask the questions around here!" I said, pointing at one of the soldiers. “Why was he detained?"

“Sir!" the senior guard, who had pale orange fur, slapped his gauntlet to his mailed chest with a clank. “He, uh, he asked to be taken into custody."

“Oh, Canis!" Livio snapped.

“Wolf, if you're looking to become a slave, I can send you to the right vixen. But right now, you should give me a reason not to skin you alive," I waved a black hand at the map. “You've seen our plans after all."

“No, no! I don't want to be a slave!" the wolf laughed, tongue lolling out wildly as he did. “No, I want to be the Sanitation Councilor again!"

We stared at him silently. For once, even Livio had nothing to say.

“I should explain, yes! My name is Tulo, former Sanitation Councilor of Pest! Governor Ertrul dismissed me after I called him a washed up piece of flotsam," he chuckled at his own barb. “He was appointed by Romulus as Governor, but as soon as Aokus took back control of the Alphate, Ertrul has been slacking off.

“No surprise here," I muttered, “that damned human has a bigger knot than the flaccid Aokus could ever hope for."

“If it means I get to be a Councilor again and we get leadership that possesses basic competence, I'll support the foxes!" his broad, black nose twitched as he sniffed the air. “Even if you all smell like the bottom of a cesspit!"

“And wolves smell like a human's taint!" Livio interjected.

“Hold, Livio," I held up my paw, silencing my mangy officer. I turned back to the aging wolf, “how could a Sanitation Councilor help me?"

“My father was a Sanitation Councilor!" Livio yapped. “He shoveled shit from the streets!"

Tulo ignored Livio's jabs and motioned towards the table with his nose, “May I have a hand free? I'd like to show you something on the map."

I waved to the guards. The younger of the two took out a knife, slicing open his bonds. Tulo grumbled, wincing as he massaged his wrists, which now had a circle of bare skin around them, surrounded by a forest of fur.

“Right here," he tapped his claw a few inches north of Buda Castle, atop a hill on the other side of the Danube as Pest, “what would you say if I told you there was a tunnel leading into the bailey that stretches all the way into the outskirts of town?"

“General Marco, why are we listening to this mad wolf?" Adjunct Guy snarled, peeling back his teeth.

“Because it entertains me," I muttered, waving the wolf to proceed.

“There's an old tunnel built by the humans that stretches..." he began scraping his claw south-east across the river and to the outskirts of the city walls, “...around here. The humans built it ages ago and I suggested we use it for waste disposal, but the Governor, that fool refused me! I know exactly where the entrance is and I can show you where it is. Provided that you promise to make me Sanitation Councilor again. If you promise me that, I'll lead you the way, hell, I'd go down on all of you!"

Smirking, I leaned forward, resting my chin atop my palms, “No, I already have someone who'll do that for me. Care to meet him?"

I nodded at the guards, who swiftly stepped out of the tent, returning shortly with a naked, gray-furred wolf who was dropped onto the floor. Galip quivered, pressing his nose into the ground as he groveled, not even noticing Tulo standing there with his jaw agape. Tulo knelt down, sniffing heavily at the prisoner and licking the side of his muzzle once gently. With a snort, Tulo stood back up.

“You dirty fox!" he laughed, “Your scent is all over him!"

“Pup!" I yelled, causing Galip to wince, but he raised his head instantly, staring back at me with his golden eyes. “Do you recognize this person?"

Galip anxiously darted his eyes to Tulo, before shifting back to me obediently.

“Y-yes, Alpha! H-he was a-a-a..." Galip's tongue darted out, licking his lips. He was nervous, but of course, that was to be expected, “a politician! I've seen him at the city hall!"

“What kind?"

“I don't know!" Galip licked his lips once more. “Oh! I've also seen him ordering around the knackers and street cleaners!"

The war council erupted in laughter, all except for Guy who was still fuming bitterly in silence. Galip winced as if he was expecting someone to hit him and Tulo growled lowly, but resisted the urge to bare his fangs.

“Clearly, we're dealing with the real thing: the chief rat-catcher and dung-hauler!" Vito said, snickering under his breath. “Council, do we see any reason to deny this wolf his calling?"

“He could be dragging us into a trap," Guy added, a fair point.

“Which is why we'll send a small scouting party to check it out and if they don't report back we'll break him on the wheel," I said, scraping some dirt from my claws, casting a glare at the brown wolf, “but if he's honest, we'll get him back to scraping shit from the streets once we reclaim the city. Fair?"

“Deal."

“Great!" I exclaimed, waving to the guards. “Now take him to the hole until further notice!"

The guards stepped forward, grabbing Tulo by the shoulders and re-bound his arms together. Then they marched him out of the tent, leaving the war council and my slave alone.

“Now then," Vito cleared his throat, “shall we get back to the business of the convoy?"

The clouds swallowed up the moon and the Danube flowed onward past us. It was the perfect night for our mission.

I had my saber out and was applying a coat of oil to it while Galip smudged pitch on my facial fur that matched my blackened gambeson. I left the chestplate behind for tonight, if things went bad, I didn't want to end up as an anchor at the bottom of the river. I kept my steel gauntlets on, as they were easy enough to remove in an emergency and swimming was still a possibility with them.

Sniffing at the air, I took in charcoal and smoke from the burner's kiln downriver. Of course, the charcoal burners and their children were tied up in their shack, but there were still twenty cloaked foxes lounging around the camp and anyone looking from the river wouldn't notice the bows and quivers lying around. They'd reveal them in due time.

Sixty of our foxes were lounging around us in the rough by the river's edge. Most were sitting around, tending to their weapons, and shivering in the cold thanks to the no fire order. The thought of impending loot would warm them up in due time.

Vito and Guy were giving orders to their soldiers around their boats, simple canoes made of whatever wood we could scrounge up. Part of me questioned giving the Adjunct command over two of the boats, but Livio was needed at the charcoal burner's camp and although Guy was against my siege plan, he had no orders saying not to raid these ships.

“How do I look?" I asked Galip.

The wolf's wide nose twitched, “Like the night, Alpha."

“Have you been eating?" I felt up his chest, feeling his ribs underneath his pelt.

“Yes, Alpha. I'm sorry for refusing before."

I slid my sword into its scabbard with a clap. Smiling, I cupped the back of my captive's head and leaned forward, bringing my nose to his. He recoiled slightly before going limp and letting me rub against him, taking in his scent. Once again, faint rosewater filled my nostrils as I ran my pads against his neck and the smell became intense when I ran my tongue across the end of his muzzle.

“In case I don't come back..."

“You'll come back, Alpha."

Galip's relaxing scent became smothered by thickening smoke. Pushing him aside, I peered downriver and saw two orange dots at the burner's camp. The kilns have been set ablaze. That was the signal.

“Let's move out, you maggots!" I barked, pointing to the boats.

My foxes threw off their blankets and filed up by the boats they were assigned, waiting for their commander to board. I hopped on mine, taking my place on the stern. Shortly after, the boat was jostled as the last soldier shoved us off into the river.

Downstream, I caught sight of the target: three river cogs with their square masts flying high. The ship's decks, as was common with cogs, even river-cogs, were low enough to climb into without any tools. It was dangerous to traverse the river this late at night, it showed just how rushed they were.

They'd learn about danger shortly.

From the camp, a stream of orange dots dashed forward, slamming into the decks of the ship. Fire arrows weren't as practical as the amateur tactician might believe. It was true that if they hit a soldier, there was a chance that it would ignite their fur and the normal response for any sane person would be to get on the ground and roll, which would jostle the shaft and worsen their injury. However, they required a source of fire which was hard to supply in large numbers and effected firing speed and accuracy. As a result, they were often far too much work for little benefit. In this case though, they would serve as an excellent distraction from the six boats full of armed foxes quietly rowing towards their ships.

We were close enough to hear the twang of bows from the ships as their returned fire. I grabbed a round shield and was joined by half the crew of my boat as their raised theirs to cover us. Not a single arrow came anywhere near us, they were focused entirely on our soldiers at the camp. Clearly, the guards on the ships weren't professionals or they were too accustomed to having an escort, else they would have kept watch on all directions.

It wasn't long before my boat and its partner edged port-side to the leading ship, its crew still preoccupied with the attack on starboard. Vito and Guy took their paired boats to the other ships to raid.

My foxes began leaping from the boat, one-by-one, grabbing hold of the edge of the deck and hauling themselves aboard, quietly drawing their weapons shortly after. By the time it was my turn to leave the boat, I heard the first death scream followed by panicked barking. Wisely, I drew my saber, put the blade between my teeth and crawled onto the deck.

It was chaos, wonderful chaos. Only a few of the wolves on the ship were properly armed with melee weapons and armor, and they abandoned their bows to engage in the fray with my soldiers, steel ringing and sparking in the night.

Most of the crew were not soldiers, most of them not even wearing shirts and having nothing for defense except a dagger or a bludgeon, which they quickly dropped on the ground in surrender. A few, realizing they were facing death on both flanks, jumped into the river to attempt to escape.

A white wolf in a thick leather jerkin charged at me, raising a falchion above his head to strike. His attack was clumsy and predictable, I parried the blow with my shield and struck at his side, slicking through his gut and sending him to the ground.

“Throw down your weapons if you want to live!" I barked over the rabble. None seemed to have heard, save for the ones who were already holding their hands up in submission.

My eyes caught the Captain, a skinny gray wolf wearing a yellow chaperon that hung to the shoulders of his red wool jacket. He was clearly not a warrior, but he possessed some courage and drew a short sword, joining the battle with his soldiers.

I met his challenge. It was only fair, the General of the invaders challenging the Captain to a duel. He blocked my lash with the broadside of his sword, knocking my arm back. Seizing my vulnerability, he swung his blade at my arm but I raised my shield and it rattled as his blade sunk into the wood with a thunk.

Pulling the shield back, I was surprised to find his sword was still stuck in it and his paws were now empty. I flashed my blade, stopping it at the edge of his neck. The message was clear and he raised his paws in surrender, kneeling on the ground.

It wasn't enough to stop the battle, but it clearly demoralized the few fighters aware of what was going on. A few joined their captain in surrender, but most continued the hopeless fight.

Eventually, enough wolves had died, gotten injured, or jumped ship, that there were only unarmed captives remaining. We were free to go below deck and raid the place for whatever supplies we could carry on the boat, enough to throw a decent victory party at least, and began settling ablaze to the rest of them.

Thick smoked poured from below deck when we were done with it. We forced the remaining wolves to carry the stolen supplies into the boats, along with them. There wasn't room for all of them, so we forced a few of them into the river, our guilt assuaged by a familiar tune blowing off in the distance: the woodwind tune that Salvia's slaves played. One way or another, they'd be rescued.

Shortly after we kicked the boats away, orange flames engulfed the ship. To my surprise, I found that Vito and Guy's assigned ships were already blazing. A lesser fox would be jealous at them for outperforming him, but I couldn't help but be proud at them for beating their General to the punch.

The southern camp cheered when they saw me and my company pad into view. Everyone had beaten us back to the camp as well, but that was fine, it gave me the chance to be fashionably late and that, I was an expert at.

I had one of the captives drop his crate and force it open. I reached in, grabbing paper-wrapped packages of sharp cheese, tart fruit, and smoked meat, and tossed them at my soldiers, who eagerly snapped them up and devoured their contents eagerly.

We'd have to abandon the camp tomorrow at first light and we'd release the captives then, but for now, we'd have as much fun as we could.

Livio, it seems, had already begun his party early. I passed his tent and heard growls along with heavy, eager moans.

“Livio!" I growled, slapping the flap of his tent open and entering with a fierce, fanged snarl. “I gave you orders not to ra…!"

A human's green eyes stared up at me, her round breasts cupped by two clawed paws that belonged to the fox mounting her from behind. Livio was completely nude, exposing just how many patches of rough, bare skin there was on his chest. Thanks to the mange, it looked like the human had more hair than him.

“General!" He grunted, not ceasing his thrusts for a moment. “I rescued her from the river before Salvia could get her!"

“He's my hero..." the woman moaned in Wolven, which Livio didn't understand a word of, “the Captain was evil..."

“Great, make sure you let her go when you're..."

“I'm keeping her!" He announced, growling and then pressing his snout against the back of her neck, nipping gently as she groaned.

Normally I wouldn't allow long-term fraternization like this, but Livio deserved the reward. Canis help me, I knew he had enough trouble fraternizing, paid or not, when he looked like a mange-victim. A grateful human would be perfect for a balding fox.

“I'm happy for you two," I said, pointing a finger at Livio, “but her rations are coming out of your pay!"

He waved me away irritably, an action that would normally provoke punishment but in this case was done by a fox busy in the act, so I let it slide.

As soon as I left the tent, I collided with a fox clad in mail, sending them stumbling back with a rattle. He growled for a second, until he realized who he ran into and his hackles lowered.

“Sir! My apologies!" He saluted. A mug of ale sloshed around in his other paw.

I recognized him, he was the same guard with pale orange fur that escorted Tulo into the command tent a few days ago. More than that, I began to recognize his other features, a thin scar just barely visible under his fur, running down the side of his right eyelid; and his scent was burnt oak.

“Carlo, was it?" I asked, taking a sniff of the air once again for remembrance. “You served with me during the Alpini Campaign."

“Aye, sir. We showed those bandits what-for!" he grinned, showing off several chipped teeth and one fang that was so short, it might as well have not existed.

“Only a prisoner guard?"

“Fate has not been kind to me, sir."

“Time to fix that. You're getting a promotion and a small command."

“Sir, that is generous, but..."

“But what?" I asked. “We need veterans like you in command."

“Aye, but I'm getting on in years and I like guarding the prisoners," he laughed slightly. “I'm good with people, I suppose, sir."

“Then I'm promoting you to Senior Prisoner Guard and giving you two ducat raise," I wagged a finger at him, “and don't you dare refuse this one!"

“Thank you, sir!" he bowed deeply.

“Dismissed."

It was a made-up position, a promotion that meant nothing, but the gold would mean something. He'd be getting to the age where he wouldn't be able to enlist again, whether he wanted to or not, and he'd need the money. It was good for him and good for morale.

I made my way to my tent, stopping occasionally to give orders and chastise foxes, like one whose nose was following a wolven captive's tail so closely that it might as well have been up his rear. I didn't want any fraternization with the current batch of captives. I wanted Livio's crazy plan to have some effect and I wanted those wolves to be released and tell their fellow wolves in Pest that the foxes treated them fairly. Once we were in the city, my foxes could go crazy at the brothels and taverns to their heart's content.

But I had a wolf that I could bother and he was waiting for me in my tent, kneeling on the ground facing the entrance, sheath bulging between his naked legs.

“Welcome back, my victorious Alpha."