The Clan. A Krag society is built entirely upon this extended kinship, of fellow Krags bound by blood, battle, and shared hardship. With each clan being self-sufficient and led by a Chief who rules by right of might and cunning. A right that can be taken by the blade in the "Rite of Chieftain."
Should the clan's weaver and two War chiefs agree, based on the competence of the current chief. Leadership may be challenged. This covenant ensures that only the strongest or most competent ever hold power.
Although this is done quickly as not to look weak and gain the unwanted gaze of neighboring Clans. As even with close ties between various clans, Inter-clan rivalry is also a regular occurrence. With blood feuds lasting for decades being common.
Yet even from that disunity something greater could emerge. A terrifying power that makes all races turn their heads. 'The Horde'.
—Excerpt from On the Clans of the Northern Wilds by Alaric the Questioner
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Varga's aura press down on the young krags. It seeped into their surroundings, causing the already injured and less sturdy female weaver to cough out blood. Even though the young krags were the focus, the aura did not discriminate. The area around them were already feeling Varga's anger as snow began to steam in tiny, hissing patches around her boots.
Pressure spread to the bystanders. Some flinched away. Even Femi wasn't safe; as his broken hand throbbed in time with the aura.
Abeg, let this girl calm down before she gives me second hand injury. Femi thought as Varga walked closer to the unfortunate future victims to her beating.
Goruk, didn't even flinch to Varga killing intent. Instead, he dropped Kovar and planted his axe-head into the frozen ground. Femi realized that the axe was separating the incoming Varga from Kovar.
"What are you doing Goruk?" Varga asked in a chilling tone that made Femi fur shoot up.
"I see your wrath, Truthseeker. But we must wait for Arieus's judgement on these foolish whelps." Goruk answered calmly.
"Well said." A deep familiar voice agreed.
All eyes turned to a space between the captured trouble makers tents. He was simply there. Sitting on the stripped stump of a black hide tree, whittling a piece of dark wood with a curved knife. The sound of the blade scraping guiding all to his presence.
shick, shick, shick.
The sound was absurdly loud in the now silent clearing. Yet, the one causing it, still hadn't bothered to look up.
How did a big krag like him get here without anyone noticing? Femi wondered, shocked.
But, Areius without his signature fur coat and left with only his bare green body, continued craving. Saying nothing. Even as Varga continued to stare on, her anger growing with every passing second.
"Areius." Varga spoke her anger not hidden.
At that Arieus's eyes, the colour of a crimson river under ice, passed over everyone, Femi included. It was like a flicker of assessment that felt less like being seen and more like being weighed.
His gaze went on, before finally settling on Duran. The younger Krag's bravado crumbled into dust in recognition of those eyes. His knuckles, tight on his sword hilt, went pale.
"Finished?" Arieus looked back to his carving. His voice carried no anger, but it still sent a chill down Femi's spine. Surely down Duran's too.
Duran straightened; his earlier malicious face was now replaced with a weary look. "War Chief. This ratling_"
"Belongs to a warrior under my band." Arieus finished the sentence, blowing a curl of wood dust from his carving. He lifted his head again, His eyes swept over Duran, then Kovar, the unconscious ones, then the young weaver held at Dana's blade. "A ratling who was carrying out instructions from his bearer. I suppose I should thank you. Right?"
The sarcasm was subtle, but Duran's jaw tightened. A faint tremor in his sword hand was also easily noticed.
The poor fool was probably thinking of something stupid. Femi Shaked his head at the helpless victim.
Arieus pushed off the stump and walked into the center of the gather group. The crowd of onlookers melted back; their earlier spectating joy now replaced by a palpable tension. He stopped beside the slumped form of the ponytailed female krag, nudged her shoulder with his toe, and sighed.
"Lenia. Always quick to throw her fist. Not a bad trait, but still…" He looked at Kovar.
"I expected you to remind your charge of their place. But it seems you not only failed to stop them, but also failed in protecting them. Your Chief would not be pleased" He snorted at Kovar's ashamed look as his gaze shifted to the priestess, whose glowing amber eyes had dimmed under Dana's unmoving dagger.
"Elara. Chanting in a camp brawl. You truly are your mother's child."
"Dana. You are being too rough; a young Weaver is still a Weaver. We must give them some certain…. respect. Well as long as they are ready to behave and wait for their punishment." Areius said while eyeing the Weaver.
"As you command War Chief." The weaver named Elara relented.
Dana clicked her tongue, but withdrew the blade. Leaving a thin line of red on the Weavers' skin which caused Elara to hiss in pain, while clamping a hand over the cut. She glared at Dana while reluctantly moving aside but, not without muttering curses about the entire situation.
Femi who was quietly watching all this play out. Analyzed each of Arieus critique and realized that every one of them was well suited for each individual. It made it clear that Arieus was very familiar with each of them and wasn't just targeting them.
No, he called out their Chief and the Weaver's mother and knowing that that Duran is the chief son. Femi let his mind joggle everything and came to a conclusion.
Arieus was hitting their lineage. Their Iron Tusk Band or Clan or whatever they call themselves.
It was clear that Arieus was reminding them and everyone watching exactly who they were. Children, defined by their parents' shadows.
Basically, calling them out for their rich background, then. Femi thought as he watched the public humiliation, while nursing his broken arm with his other broken arm, which was honestly not helping much.
Finally, Arieus turned back to look at Duran. Causing a long moment of silent between them.
"And you, Duran. Son of Drug'wag.
Duran's face flushed. Arieus hadn't even done as much as he thought he would, and yet Duran looked smaller with every word.
"My father-" Duran began, his voice choked in anger.
"Is not here," Arieus interrupted, his tone finally gaining an edge. It was cold and absolute.
"You claimed grounds above you, in my camp. You went on to break my peace and worse of all." Arieus stared down at Duran in contempt.
"You were defeated in combat by one, you thought weaker."
Ah, its times like this I wished I had popcorn to enjoy the show. Femi thought while looking around to find out that the entire crowd had gone dreadfully quiet. There was also now an obvious increase in the total number of spectators. They too must have come to enjoy the verbal abuse.
"You, your siblings and these wounded dogs, were clearly sent by your Chief to test me. But how can I be bothered by weaklings like you? Even our camp's ratling was able to dispatch you all." Arieus words earned some chuckles, and laugh to be heard from the crowd.
Duran fumed. Looking ready to do something stupid.
"I should send you back to the Iron Tusk territory with your limbs missing and your tongue ripped, for just thinking of challenging me. You could even mime to Drug'wag that your 'diplomatic visit' concluded with a lesson in respect. One he failed to teach you."
As that obvious threat hung. A sense of tension rose among the young Iron Tusks krags and those waiting for an opportunity to tear them to pieces. Duran sensing the bloodlust of the surrounding krags could only frown. For there were to many warriors even after excluding the War Chief and his liuetent that he couldn't fight.
But this was a slap he couldn't accept quietly.
"The ratling insulted our clan's honor. That is something that cannot be overlooked" Duran's words were firm. Even a War Chief cannot fault him for defending his honor he could even use this to finish the ratling off.
"Did he." Arieus turned his head slightly, toward Femi. "Ratling. Did you insult the Iron Tusk?"
Femi body jumped a bit, but he expected this would happen, and was already prepared.
He coughed, sounding so weak and pitiful. He began to shake as if the thought of speaking in front of everyone scared him.
"I was asked to see if they were lost, and I even wanted to help them find their way, …but they…they took my kindness…and… and …tried to ravage me." Femi finished, body shaking in a way that looked like the wind might claim him at any moment.
"What?" Duran was shocked. How could this creature dare lie so blatantly?
A faint ripple of a smile crossed Arieus's face, exposing the roots of his tusks. He looked back at Duran.
"Your father has many sons. It seems he sent the useless and disposable one to me. I wonder why."
The meaning behind those words was clear.
"Duran. You sought to claim a life under my banner, unprovoked and without my leave," Arieus declared.
"You broke the peace of my ground. You," his gaze swept to include Kovar and the others, "were outmaneuvered by that same one you thought weak. Your failure and shame are now his glory."
Arieus took a step forward. Duran instinctively stepped back. His heel crushing a frozen branch causing a snap that echoed.
"So, you will be suppressed." Arieus announced simply
"You will clean the latrines. Every pit, for every clan present, until the great march breaks or you are all dead. You will do it under Goruk's eye. You will speak to no one unless he permits it. Your weapons will remain in my lodge. You are not warriors in my camp. You are laborers. When you return to your father, you will tell him exactly what you are. And why."
Shock and confusion. That order caused many to responded with those two emotions and the most confused of all were the young krags involved especially the young weaver and Duran son of Duruk, who protested immediately.
Well. Tried to.
Before a word left Duran's mouth, Goruk's fist sent him down. That kept the rest conscious Iron Tusks in check.
"Goruk.
"Yes, War Chief."
"As I said. I leave it to you."
Goruk grinned, cracking his fist. "It shall be done, War Chief."
The punishment was devastating. It stripped them of status, voice, and identity. Duran's face flushed with deep, mortified rage and fear. This was worse than any beating he had expected. At least a beating could be borne with pride. This was total humiliation. It was worse than death.
Femi, like many, was shocked by this development. To completely deny a krag from fighting in not just one battle, but all future battles in an honor worthy campaign as this was not normal. Even Femi who has not yet learnt all of the krags culture found everything to be strange. He had expected at least three days on the pole. Which he really wanted to see if only to mock them while drinking hot soup.
But this seemed worse. And what was even more strange was, why he did this after showing the juju priestess respect? Was that a ruse? But for what purpose.
Arieus turned his back on them. His gesture of utter dismissal. As he began to walk away.
"Do you think I will accept such light punishment, Arieus?"
SWOOOSH!
"Varga. I hope you have a good reason for challenging my decision." Arieus said as he held her wrist.
Which Stopped her short-curved blade just inches from impaling Duran's head.
"These whelps attacked my claimed without provocation. By law, I can claim retribution. Even you cannot take that right away, War Chief."
"True. But I cannot let you take their life."
"Then you will forgive my next action." Varga said as green kuros once more began to spread from her.
Well. The situation had gone to hell. Femi thought as he rose on shaking legs, wondering whether to run, or help Varga?
At the escalating situation, Dana drew her second blade. While Goruk lifted his axe, and spun it obviously ready for a fight. The surrounding Krags muttered out loud at the confrontation, obviously wondering if the top leadership was about to fight.
Arieus on the other hand just stared at Varga silently. Both watching each other. As tension continued to increase. Femi heart began to summersault with the wild idea of what might happen.
"Very well. I will compensate you in another way." Arieus said, voice calm. "I am not one to disregard Traditions." He finished with a slight smile.
Arieus turned to the gathered crowd. And spoke with a deep and regal voice that got even Femi who had been considering some forbidden thoughts to listen.
"I cannot allow the Truthseeker to take their life." Arieus began, as Varga eyes narrowed.
Oboy, this girl should calm down first. Femi screamed at her with his thoughts.
"But I cannot also go against Tradition. So I will compensate Varga. With two things."
He turned to Varga.
"I shall now put these troublesome whelps under you. Subordinates until this campaign is over or till they die in battle."
The muttering only grew louder with this new order. Yet it seems there was more.
"I know that will not satisfy your thirst for blood. So I will add another compensation. Something you requested previously."
Varga's Kuros had already begun to calm down as she listened. Eyes relaxing at Arieus's words.
Arieus smiled in a way that made his large Tusks looked more Savage as he spoke.
"I, Arieus, War Chief of this band, grant the ratling named Femi the rank of warrior. Under the agreement of his Claimer, Varga. In exchange for her right to claim the offender's life." He finished with a savage grin.
The entire crowd erupted into a frenzy. Every warrior looked ready to rage. Some already drew blades, ill intent plain. And all that anger, shock and confusion was focus on the little ratling that was still nursing his injury.
As for Femi.
He was just flabbergasted at what had happened.
"Eh."