"It's still better with Curze and Lorgar."
Caelan chewed on a chunk of roast meat, absently scratching the neck of the mother wolf as he watched the wolf-child. He sighed.
Curze was a good kid, just one twisted by his environment. Caelan had given him proper guidance.
Lorgar, though born a fanatic for strength, had matured under his teaching. There didn't seem to be any flaws in him now.
The wolf-child, however, was wild and untamed, he could be classed alongside the Lion King.
Their origins were similar too: both were monster hunters who had survived in the wilderness. Yet Fenris was far crueler than Caliban. Take the Fenrisian elk, for instance, an herbivore by normal standards, but on Fenris, even elk were predators.
From Caelan's experience and from the Emperor's failures, he had learned an important lesson: wild wolves must be stroked with the fur, not against it.
As long as it wasn't a matter of principle, he would go along with the wolf-child's instincts.
The boy lowered his head, his tangled blond hair casting a shadow over dimming eyes.
His rough fingers scratched unconsciously at the frost-covered snow, etching the names "Curze" and "Lorgar" deep into his heart, just as the mother wolf had taught him to mark territory by clawing frozen earth.
He didn't understand why, if Caelan was teaching him, did he keep comparing him to others?
From afar came the cheerful yips of wolf pups and human children playing. He stared at the crackling bonfire; each popping ember sounded like laughter mocking his loneliness.
The joy was everyone else's. To him, they were just noisy.
"King Thengir is here!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the village. Men raised their axes, striking them against shields, metal clashing like rolling thunder across the frozen plain.
Through the snowstorm, Caelan saw a group of rugged horsemen, though their mounts were no ordinary steeds.
Most rode horned beasts and Sain bull-deer, some of Fenris's more "docile" mammals. The lead warrior, however, rode a gigantic Fenrisian elk.
Though called elk, Fenrisian elk were nothing like their Terran ancestors. Their razor-sharp antlers could slice a man into ribbons in an instant. Fully grown, they were as large as Fenrisian wolves, living armored vehicles.
To tame one as a mount, no wonder he was a king.
The wolf pups sensed danger. They instinctively formed a protective ring, their frost-covered bodies shielding Caelan and Sylvia. Their growls were no longer playful; they were the warnings of predators.
The towering warrior, cloaked in Fenrisian wolf pelts, dismounted. His iron boots struck the snow with heavy thuds, leaving deep prints.
"I am Thengir, King of the Russ tribe. Stranger, was it you who sought me?"
Caelan replied, "I am Caelan, King Thengir. We come seeking cooperation."
"How do you propose we cooperate?" Thengir asked.
"My wolf pack can help your tribe hunt," Caelan said. "They can scent prey from three kilometers away, track even the craftiest snow fox through a blizzard."
"A fine proposal," said Thengir. "And what do you seek in return?"
"The Season of Fire is coming. The pack must migrate; we need passage aboard your tribe's longships."
As Caelan stroked Sylvia's silvery mane, the she-wolf affectionately brushed her neck against his cheek. The pups at his feet whimpered softly.
Thengir's eyes glinted slyly. "If you join the Russ tribe, then we are family. The Russ never abandons our kin."
He assumed Caelan hailed from a powerful tribe; no weak tribe could ever tame Fenrisian wolves. He suspected Caelan's true purpose, but if Caelan could teach his people to tame wolves, Thengir could tolerate whatever ulterior motives he had.
"The wolf pack can join the Russ tribe," Caelan said, "but I have one condition."
Thengir was surprised at how readily he agreed, without haggling at all.
"Name it," said Thengir, frost clinging to his beard. "If I can do it, I'll grant it."
"My condition is simple." Caelan pointed to the wolf-child. "Give this child a name."
"I don't need him to name me!" the boy snarled, baring his teeth.
"He's your son?" Thengir asked, eyes flicking between them.
"No." Caelan shook his head. The wolf-child glared even harder, as if to say mind your own business.
…
In the Russ tribe's great hall, Caelan was seated with honor beside the king's throne.
Sylvia lay beside him, resting her muzzle gently in his lap, warm breath fogging his coat. The pups curled obediently around his boots.
Thengir's eyes gleamed with awe. "The Fenrisian wolf is the most cunning predator on this land. How did you tame them?"
"With a sincere heart," said Caelan.
Thengir chuckled, assuming it was a joke.
Only a fool would offer a beast his heart.
Still, he knew the truth: taming Fenrisian wolves must be a secret passed down through Caelan's tribe, a treasure guarded to the grave.
But in truth, Caelan had used nothing but sincerity.
Fenrisian wolves were semi-intelligent creatures, no less clever than humans.
With patient teaching, they could learn human language and bridge the gap of understanding.
Education required security, and elk meat provided that. Only those free from hunger could learn civilization.
Any creature, when fed, would show gentleness; hunger awakened the beast within.
"You want me to name the boy?"
Thengir's tone softened as he noticed the boy's wary, feral glare.
"I don't need it!" growled the wolf-child, eyes flashing wild light like a young beast refusing to bow.
Thengir sighed, turning to Caelan. "You see? That's the second time he's refused me. I can't help you there. But my promise still stands; choose another condition."
Caelan's gaze hardened. "You have two choices," he told the boy. "Either accept a name from Thengir, or let me give you one. Choose."
"You," the boy muttered, voice low and rough, a reluctant surrender.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
Caelan reached out, fingers sinking into the boy's messy golden hair, tousling it roughly as though grooming a wolf pup. The blond strands glimmered in the firelight before falling back into disorder.
The boy shook his head in defiance, but not too hard; he resisted, but didn't truly want Caelan's hand gone.
"Leman Russ," said Caelan. "That's your name. It always has been."
Thengir leaned forward, intrigued. "Leman was a hero in ancient Fenrisian legends, the one who single-handedly slew the Ice Trolls' den. A fine name indeed. But why not let your own tribe name him?"
Caelan withdrew his hand. "Because we are Russ now, your words, my king."
Russ bared his teeth again at Thengir. He hated that nosy king.
Thengir suddenly laughed loud and hard, shaking the torches on the walls. "His wildness suits the name Russ perfectly! Stranger, I accept your little wolf as one of us!"
He drained his flask, hiding the glint of calculation in his eyes.
Though Caelan denied being the boy's father, and though Leman Russ was defiant, his reliance on Caelan was unmistakable. Why else stay so close in such a large hall?
He was like a sulking child, wanting approval but refusing to show it.
An untamed wolf pup, yearning for warmth, afraid to expose his belly.
Thengir's predatory gaze lingered on Russ's stubborn back. That temperament can be used.
He wouldn't destroy the bond between them; doing so would make the boy his enemy.
No, he'd strengthen it, tie them both to the tribe through loyalty and belonging. Warriors like Russ seemed defiant, but once given true recognition, they'd die for it.
Caelan stroked Sylvia's mane and said softly, "King Thengir, you mentioned I could make another request?"
The king nodded. "If it's within my power."
"Then help me build a school," Caelan said with a smile. "Teaching, that's what I do best."
…
Leman Russ rolled over in his deerskin blanket and bumped his head against a wolf's muzzle.
"Awwooo."
The young wolf stirred awake, eyes flashing in the dark. Seeing Russ, it whimpered softly, why are you bothering me at this hour?
"Sorry, Geri. Didn't mean to. Go back to sleep." He rubbed the pup's ear.
The wolf huffed and yawned.
"I know, I know, I'll sleep soon."
He turned again. Around him, the tent echoed with the snores of wolves. Their furry bodies rose and fell in rhythm; Sköll's tail brushed his ankle, and Fenrir's paw pinned down his blanket. Geri and Freki pressed against him like warm, breathing walls.
They'd always slept together since they were small.
Back then, they'd curl in Sylvia's fur, her body heat a fortress against the cold.
Then Caelan came.
As the wolves grew, their pelts thickened, able to withstand the frost. Caelan had sewn him a deerskin coat and blanket.
But in the den, they'd always slept side by side, Caelan, Sylvia, him, and the rest of the pack.
After joining the Russ tribe, that wretched king split them up!
He'd given Caelan a separate tent, with Sylvia! Leaving him only with the wolves! That scheming king wanted to tear them apart!
Russ huffed irritably, rolling again, careful not to wake Geri this time.
"Leman Russ," he murmured, tasting the syllables, tongue brushing his teeth with each vibration.
"Leman Russ," he said again, the name was sweet as honey.
He had a name now, a name Caelan gave him.
"Leman Russ!" he shouted softly.
"Awwooo," Geri replied.
Russ froze, seeing all his wolf brothers staring at him in the dark, ears perked.
He'd forgotten, Fenrisian wolves never truly slept. Even the fall of a snowflake could wake them.
"Awwooo," Fenrir added, curious.
Russ scowled. "Go to sleep! We're hunting tomorrow!"
The wolves whimpered in protest, but Russ ignored them, pulling the blanket over his head.
…
Thengir crouched behind a snow-covered hill, squinting up at the pale sun, a sickly disk behind the clouds.
"Warm day. Never a good sign," he muttered, his breath freezing in his beard.
"How long until the Season of Fire?" asked Russ, lying beside him.
It was a strange question; every Fenrisian child was taught to read the seasons. Forgetting could mean death.
"At most three months before the glaciers melt," Thengir said. "But no one knows when we'll find new islands. Wait too long, and many will starve."
"You don't have enough food stored?" Russ asked.
"There's never enough on Fenris," Thengir said grimly. "No one knows how long the ships will drift once the seas thaw. Three years ago, a fleet from another tribe washed ashore here, but they'd been adrift too long. Every soul was dead."
"Awwooo!"
A long howl echoed across the tundra, cutting through the wind.
Thengir lifted his gaze, ice crystals falling from his beard.
"Your father's back," he murmured.
"He's not my father," Russ snapped.
Thengir smiled. If the boy truly didn't see Caelan as his father, he'd have roared instead of muttering.
He said nothing more; best not meddle in family matters, even for a king.
Pressing two fingers to his lips, Thengir let out a sharp whistle.
The Russ warriors rose from hiding, axes gleaming.
At the horizon, a gray mist rose over the snowfields, followed by the rumble of hooves.
A massive herd of Fenrisian elk thundered toward them, chased by wolves.
The young wolves couldn't normally hunt such beasts alone, but the elk's instinctive fear of wolves drove them to flee blindly, never turning to fight unless cornered.
Caelan rode Sylvia at a calm pace behind them, the wolves flanking the herd, growling to steer them toward the ambush.
The Russ hunters waited, crouched behind snowdrifts.
When the elk entered the trap, Thengir's whistle cut through the air, a signal to strike.
He nocked an arrow, squinted through the blizzard, and loosed.
Thwip!
The bone arrow screamed through the wind, its tip glinting coldly as it pierced the lead stag's throat.
Boiling blood froze into crimson ice midair. The massive beast, over a ton of muscle, collapsed like an avalanche, kicking up clouds of snow.
The hunters charged, sliding down the hillsides.
Leaderless, the herd panicked, antlers clashing, snow flying, young elk impaled by their own kind.
The hunters threw lassos, tightening loops around elk necks. If they failed, they'd circle again, patient and relentless.
No armor could withstand Fenrisian antlers; even adult wolves and bears were torn apart by them.
No one on Fenris was easy prey.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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