Janine arrived at the rgest Ice Fangs camp, fnked by the Mountaintop household’s huard. Bertruda may be a scheming whore, but she provided an escort worthy of a warlord, and six heavy veterans, their heaviest suits, led her to the gates, where knights of the Sunbde household saluted a her in.

  Initiates, the you of the Ice Fangs, teo the tents, rushing to either their masters’ armor and ons, cook food, or scurry around the camp delivering messages. These youngsters worked hard, practig obediend honing their fighting skills to bee first foot soldiers and ter squires.

  The camp was divided into several ses. First Sunbde and his troops occupied the tral se, but his hunters and defenders spread out evenly throughout the camp, patrolling and bolstering the defenses. Every sword saint’s tall sages filmed the distant city, preserving its history for the national icle.

  Jahe axe resting on her shoulder and the high colr of the oversized coat hiding the neck wounds, marched straight to the Suent, assuming it to be a pce where her rival awaited. Two sages, the order analog of shamans, met her halfway. Both wore highly advaypes of white power armor, with colored red lines running oer sides of their arms and legs. Their lenses shone blue, and the heavy steel ptes did little to impede their movements in any way. Impressive-looking gunhalberds rested in maglocks behind their backs, o the tower shields.

  “Halt!” a sage spoke in a gentle and melodic voice. The male removed his helmet, showing a scarless snout. “Honored dy, please state the reason for your…”

  Janine’s paw caught him by the torso’s joint, raising the surprised sage in the air and hearing the whine of his armor beh her fingers. The e’s halberd was already in her paw; the gunhalberd’s barrel, located below the curved bde, was aimed at the warlord’s arm. Nearby knights responded in kind, reag for their swords and spears and f a shield wall to protect the curious initiates.

  She ighe otion and pulled the sage closer.

  “I came here at the demand of Sword Sairuda.” Her pupils dited in respoo the anger boiling in her veins. A male dares to block her passage? Dares questioning her? Something inside her demahat she remind him of his p the hierarchy and dominate him. But self-trol prevailed. “The interference of this irritant is keeping me from the needs of my pack, and I wish to settle rievances as soon as possible. Take me to her, shiny boy, before I actally break this nice camp.” She released the hold, and the sage nded nimbly.

  “My deepest apologies for the disrespect, dy.” The impudent little male dared to bow to her! “But I do not have the honor of serving the illustrious Lady Bertruda. My liege is First Suhe greatest Wolfkin alive. Please follow me if you will.”

  Greatest? So much for the Blessed Mother, huh? Janine rolled her eyes at the impertinend accepted the rinning at the initiates’ disappointed snouts. Cubs are cubs everywhere; she remembered herself betting her first hard-earokens on who Terrific could beat.

  Along the way, she observed some knights training their initiates, using wooden ons to battle several at a time, pointing out fws in their form, or supervising the youngsters at a shooting range. Based on the initiates size, their age was somewhat between ten and fifteen years old. Janine always had trouble determining the age of the ice boys.

  The two groups were wildly different. By the age of three, a Wolfkin of the tribe would have killed his first ioid, known how to take apart and reassemble a shardgun, and had his share of scars. The shamans examined seven-year-old girls a-year-old boys before sending them off to their first packs, prepared to fay hardships that came their way. Their terparts from the Order would still be hidden in the safety of the cities, nurtured and educated by sages, and would never see any real danger. It was not until the age of ten that an Ice Fa home to join the army.

  This was due to a fual differeweewo groups of Wolfkins. Cubs of the Wolf Tribe grew fast, acquiring basiguage within months of birth. They ied instincts and a desire to dominate, along with mother’s milk, and worked in the vilges, herding cusacks and perf basic repairs. Cubs of the Ice Fang Order matured at the rate of Normies, remaining frail and weak for years before catg up to their cousins. While this difference caused much disgust among the tribe, who saw it as a weakness, Janine e. What mother wouldn’t want to hold her precious cubs in her paws for longer, instead of sending them off to train is and lick their wounds afterwards?

  As they passed a training arena, Janine grimaced, hearing the words of encement given by a traio a cub who had lost a sparring mat three moves. Her oppo didn’t even do anything impressive, starting with a straight overhead thrust aimed at the cub’s forehead, using the hand guard of his wooden sword to block the terthrust, and turning his attato a slice that touched the other cub’s nose. In the Wolf Tribe, the fight would never have been stopped at su early stage, because no enemy in the wild would stop if you just “cut” him.

  The tribe taught its cubs well. Two, three, or more cubs would crash into each other, biting and sshing, tearing at skin, and seeking to tackle the oppo. No fight would end until either the winner showed mercy or a shaman intervehe rules were simple: domi any cost; initial wounds meant nothing; a losing party could lurk on the fringes of a struggle, waiting for the winning side to weaken and tire, or for the stroo face off in what seemed to be a final bout. The smart ones would often charge at suents, even males, though they oftehe strength to overe females, who simply swatted them away. Still, the shama a close eye on the young, instrug the males in using ranged ons and guiding the females to bee scouts. Most prized, however, were the females who traihe less intelligent cubs and formed gangs to domihe pits, for such girls were potential future wolf hags.

  “Lady, are you Warlord Alpha?!” The cub who had won the fight bowed low. Without baring his neck. He and his partner wore paired bulletproof skintight bodysuits, sometimes called underarmor. Eaderarmor had many zippers, desigo be open so that the battle pte’s cables could be ected to the body’s impnts for smoother operation and to monitor the body’s funs.

  “Stupid. This is Warlord Jahe sed cub said quickly, repeating the bow. “Greetings, honored cousin. May the Spirits bless you.”

  “But she bears the marks of the Alpha Pack! And the st...” The boy frowned and she air. “It’s... both.”

  “See? I saw her on the news; this is Warlord Janine, I tell you!” the girl argued.

  “Name’s Janine, indeed. Greetings… little ones.” Jaumbled for a sed, unsure how to address them. Tags on their shoulders told her they were ten-year-old nonbatants. She was fused to see supposed adults ag so childishly.

  “Have you e to pay your respects to the sword saints, Warlord?” the male cub asked, earning himself worried looks from the sage and trainer.

  “Something like that, yes,” Janine ughed, not offended in the slightest. Curiosity was a wonderful trait, and the cubs were respectful enough. “Are you Sunbdes?”

  “I am,” the girl said.

  “I do not have this honor. My parents are from the household of Ironwill,” the boy told her. He hesitated and asked, “Is it true that your axe es from the Old World, Lady Janine?”

  “Just Janine.” She put the Taleteller’s head on the ground, aiming its bde at herself. “It is true. I found it on a joint operation where we had to team up with the Oathtakers against the maddened soulless meisms and weird biological creatures. Its edge saved the lives of my allies, and Warlord Terrific herself gifted it to me afterwards.”

  “Cool!” The boy cpped, and suddenly they did not differ from the tribe’s cubs. “ we take a photo o it… Better yet, we take a picture with you?”

  “Please, please!” the girl begged. “roup will be so enviou…. I mean, it’ll look awesome for our icles!” She blushed, hastily correg herself, and Janine nodded, inviting them to stand beside her. She dropped to one knee ahe traiake a picture with his portable terminal.

  “Enjoy your training.” Janine smirked cheerfully.

  “Tell Marco to drop by again, dy Jahe girl called behind her. “We still have some pizza left!”

  “Sure thing…” Wait, what?! What did the little squirt fet here?! Janine almost tripped and ughed bombastically, happy about her son’s initiative. There was nothing wrong with visiting her cousins; a family was a family. It might even help her achieve her goal…

  The sage led her to the tent of First Sunbde, a true marvel of artistry, adorned by the fi finery. A tapestry reted the twins’ first meeting and Ravager’s acceptance of them as kin. Proud purple and gold fgs fluttered in the breeze; ss and carpets covered the dead earth around the tent; and trophy racks stood in the open, holding ons and equipment collected from those First deemed worthy. Four sword saints—Bertruda, Camelia, Tancred, and First himself—sat ihe tent, sipping wine from the golden cups and discussing something over a holographic map.

  First left his seat a in a fsh, notig Janine. He was dressed in simple robes of yellow and white, decorated by swords’ embroidery. A purple sash ed the robes around his waist. He let his long hair loose, and musiotes produced by dozens of golden and ptinum rings woven into his hair apanied his steps. Simir to Alpha, First stood out among his kind, possessing more muscle than most warlords, and his sclera boasted a golden hue, a characteristic that his direct offspring shared, albeit in somewhat diminished form. Blessed by the Twins’ divine blood, no scar stayed long on his skin.

  “Warlord Janine! What a pleasant surprise!” First offered her a cup. He she air, and a worried look appeared in his sharp, crimson eyes. “e, sit a with your brothers and sisters, a us to soothe your…”

  “Thank you for the sustenance,” Janine answered curtly and snatched the cup, drinking the soft wine and enjoying every sed of it. “The day is short, and my temper is even shorter. Let us end it.”

  First’s eyes go the side as Bertruda left the tent, still her armor like the rest of the sword saints. She tied her long hair into a knot and fumed with barely tained rage, meeting Janine’s stony gaze. The rage pleased Jahe traitor may be a coward, a schemer, and a trickster, but the anger was real and worthy er’s approval. Instinct ruled Bertruda, urgio dominate Janine.

  A shame she chose to do it in this way. Otherwise, Janine might have spared her ribs.

  , Camelia Wintersong stepped out, elegantly holding a cup in her paw. A weling smile danced on her lips, unmatched by the calcuted look in her crimsohe woman chose bck for her hair today, and a special oi and three onyx pins straightened her long saber hair, creating a raven wing behind her back. Tancred Ironwill stood and o Janine from ihe tent, theuro reading the reports.

  “Pray, expin your reason for ing here, Janine,” Camelia asked, her free paw almost actally sliding closer to the handle of her sword. “You e uninvited, carrying a on and stirring ruckus in the camp, rudely treating fellow soldiers. One might think you seek to incur an insult.”

  “Insult? There is no insult, implied or otherwise, Sword Saint Camelia,” Janine said. “I came to…”

  “The barbarian skulked here, answering my call,” Bertruda interrupted. She looked over at Janine and wrinkled her nose. “No armor? Did you break your junk, or did you think I would show mercy at such a pitiful sight?” Bertruda bared her fangs a out a low growl. Camelia blinked and put a paw on the woman’s pauldron, stopping her from advang. “Where is your huard? Where is the rabble you call warlords? Are you this scared of losing in front of them? Is this it? Is this why you came aloo spare yourself further humiliation? Well, if so, then at least you aren’t delusional about your ces, wildling. I almost want to take pity on you.” The crimson eyes narrowed. “You could’ve taken a shower, at least, before rep to your betters. Your stench suits you, but it offends me.”

  “Bertruda.” Tancred’s calm voice stopped her outburst. The sword saint never broke the line of sight from the map. “You will address our sisters with respect, or I shall discipline you myself.”

  “Is this how the Ice Fangs honor a warrior answering a challenge? Ha! Appreciate the hoy. I don’t need armor or a cheerleading squad to see you bite the dust, Ice Girl,” Janine smiled broadly, putting the Taleteller’s head on the ground aing her paws on the knob. “Although I might start calling you Fme Girl. Had I known you had such a storm in you, I would have offered you a p the tribe. Step to me and give me a taste of asses fe among your cold kind.”

  “I’ll give you more than a taste, barbarian; I will make yret the words you hurled at the grandmaster. But I will not give you an excuse to bme your iable defeat on a ck of equipment. No, my skills will be burned into your brain forever, along with the Order’s martial superiority. Guards!” Bertruda shouted, calling her knights. She spread her arms, and they began removing her armor, piece by piece.

  “Kins of mihere is no need for such heated words.” First raised his paws and stepped between the women. “Are we not all brothers and sisters? Are we not servants to the Dynast and spiritual children of the Blessed Mother? Do we not seek the same future? Abandon the flid let us settle our differences peacefully.”

  “It is most uo fight in your dition, Warlord Janine,” Camelia said in a more amicable tone, her eyes throwing daggers at Bertruda. “Perhaps ostpohe duel?”

  “Impossible,” Jaold them. “The flippant fool has challenged me in public. I will not stain the honor of my pack with refusal or retreat.”

  “Bertruda. You incurred an insult on our allies without requesting our permission for the challenge. Please, dy, take your words back,” First addressed his fellow sword saint.

  “I am srandmaster,” Bertruda answered, standing only in a yellow underarmor that left her paws a bare. She took her spear from a sage and pois tip at Janine. “You are the shining light, an ideal worth striving for. To hear a barbarian, unworthy even to wash your feet, snder you, is an indignity too great for me to overe or five. This misbegotten sand dweller shall be thrown to the ground, bones snapping. This I promise as a sword saint!”

  “Foolish.” Janine smiled bad rexed her posture. Her tiredness disappeared. Misbegotten. Unneeded. Reject. Could Bertruda know? No, she is grasping at straws; her mother died a long time ag. “Why lose your pride so easily?”

  “Sages.” First sighed and called a line of warriors closer. “Prepare to treat the wounds of both noble fighters. Lady Bertruda, Lady Janine, would you please apao the arena…”

  “We will do it here. I don’t have all day,” Janine said.

  “Agreed.” Bertruda took her spear in both hands, bending her legs slightly. “Take a stance!”

  “fortable as it is.” Janine grinned.

  Bertruda dashed from the spot, beating up the ground in her wake. The spear’s bde faced the Taleteller’s rising haft, and the impact of the two ons created a shockwave that snapped one of the fg’s poles. First and Camelia were already in front of the initiates, serving refreshments, shielding the youth with their bodies, and the knights formed a shield wall, f an arena.

  Janine’s right paw released the grip on her on. With her left arm, she moved the blow to the left, drawing the sword saint closer, and rammed her right fist into the woman’s stomach, opening her own jaws. The bite closed in the empty air as Bertruda uood her iions and kicked at Janine’s knee, regaining the distance right back.

  Should’ve used the cws. Jahought sourly, feeling her wounds reopen from the strain. A hail of feints cealing the true strike approached her, and Jaook the on in both paws.