Chapter 255 From Where?: Klaus's POV

Chapter 255 From Where?: Klaus's POV

The secret horn sounded three short, muffled blasts from the southern timber gate.

It was two hours past midnight. The snow was beginning to melt into slush along the stone walkways, leaving black mud beneath our boots. The spring thaw was coming, and with it came the snakes from the south.

I stood on the stone steps of the inner courtyard, my black wool cloak wrapped tight against the damp cold.

Jax stepped out of the fog first, his short bow held low at his side. Behind him walked four North Pack scouts surrounding a single rider on a tall, thin bay horse.

The rider was dressed in expensive dark grey silk under a heavy cloak lined with fox fur. He didn't wear iron armor. He wore fine leather boots that had never walked through mountain mud, and his face was pale, clean-shaved, and soft.

"Alpha Klaus," Jax said, stopping ten paces away. "We caught him at the lower river check-post. He was riding without torches, carrying a sealed wax tube."

The rider slid off his bay horse with careful, precise movements. He bowed low, his fox-fur cloak sweeping across the slushy cobblestones, but his sharp blue eyes stayed fixed on my face.

"Lord Klaus of the North Pack," the man said, his voice smooth as oil, lacking the rough, gravelly edge of a mountain wolf. "I am Lord Cassian, personal envoy of Duke Gareth of the Southern Reach."

"You ride late, envoy," I growled, stepping down the stone stairs until I stood directly over him. My broad shadow swallowed him whole. "And you ride through my timber gates without an escort of southern spears. Why?"

Cassian smiled a faint, tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Because my master, Duke Gareth, values discretion," Cassian replied, reaching into his inner silk vest.

Jax immediately drew his broadhead arrow back to his ear with a quiet thwip. Cassian stopped his hand mid-motion, holding his fingers wide in a peaceful gesture before slowly pulling out a cylindrical iron case sealed with red wax.

"No steel, scout. Just ink and parchment," Cassian murmured, holding the tube out toward me. "The Duke offers a private proposition for the new Alpha of the North."

Before I could reach for the iron tube, a shadow moved silently out from the dark archway to my left.

Zoey stepped into the torchlight. She was dressed in her dark leather hunting tunic, her short bow slung across her back, her wool face-mask pulled down around her throat. Her dark eyes were fixed on Cassian's throat like a hawk watching a field mouse.

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat for half a second as he felt the cold, lethal weight of her presence.

"Luna Zoey," Cassian said, inclining his head slightly. "The south has heard of the hunter who pulled the bowstrings at the Iron Citadel."

"The south talks too much," Zoey said, her voice flat and hard.

She walked past him, her boots making no sound on the wet stone, and stood beside me. Through our blood bond, her pulse beat against mine—cool, sharp, and suspicious.

"What does Duke Gareth want?" I asked, breaking the wax seal with my thumb and pulling out the rolled parchment.

"The Duke knows you killed Lord Vane," Cassian said, stepping half an inch closer and lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry to the guards on the outer wall.
"He knows the Eastern Steppes are in chaos. Vane’s death leaves a massive void on the trade routes. The Duke offers you twenty thousand gold crowns, two hundred barrels of southern grain, and a permanent peace treaty."

I unrolled the parchment. The ink was dark, neat, and heavy with the official seal of the Southern Reach.

"And what does Duke Gareth want in return for his gold and grain?" I asked, my eyes scanning the text.

"Simple," Cassian whispered. "You leave the Red River bridge open. You allow two regiments of southern spears to pass through the mountain gorge to clear out Vane’s broken tribes on the eastern plains. You hold the pass; we take the east."

A low, dark growl built in the back of my throat.

I rolled the parchment back up with a sharp snap of my wrist.

"Duke Gareth wants to bring two regiments of southern iron through my front door," I said, stepping right into Cassian's space until his soft leather boots pressed back against his horse's flank.
"He wants to put southern spears on the eastern plains so he can surround the North Pack on both sides."

Cassian’s pale face flushed slightly, but he kept his oil-smooth composure.

"It is a generous offer, Alpha," Cassian argued softly.
"The North has suffered a long winter. Your people are thin. Your grain bins are low. Twenty thousand gold crowns will feed your pack for five years. Duke Gareth only seeks to stabilize the eastern border for trade."

"The eastern border is already stabilized," Zoey said, stepping forward, her fingers resting lightly on the hilt of her hunting dagger. "By thirty North Pack spears and a stone gatehouse."

"Thirty spears cannot hold against the eastern warlords if they unite again," Cassian pressed, looking between us. "The Duke is offering you an alliance. A shared border."

"The North shares borders with no southern duke," I growled into his face.

I took the iron scroll tube and snapped it clean in half between my bare hands. The iron cracked with a sharp, loud report that rang through the damp courtyard like a pistol shot. I dropped the pieces at Cassian's fine leather boots.

"Tell Duke Gareth that if a single southern spear steps foot past the Iron Citadel, I will cut their heads off and throw them into the Red River to join Lord Vane," I spat. "The mountain pass belongs to the wolf. Not the Duke."

Cassian stared down at the broken iron tube in the mud, his smooth jaw tightening. The polite smile was completely gone now, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.

"The Duke will not take this refusal lightly, Alpha Klaus," Cassian said, his voice dropping its oily tone, turning hard and dry. "The spring thaw is coming. The snows will melt, and the roads will clear."

"Let them clear," I grunted. "My broadswords are already sharp."

I turned my back on him. "Jax. Escort the envoy back to the southern timber gate. If he turns off the main road before he reaches the border line, put an arrow through his horse."

"With pleasure, Alpha," Jax said, nudging the tip of his arrow toward Cassian's ribs. "Move, silk-sleeves."

Cassian mounted his bay horse without another word, pulled his dark fox-fur cloak tight around his neck, and turned his horse back toward the fog-covered gate.

I stood in the wet slush, watching the horse's hoofprints disappear into the dark mist.

Zoey stepped up beside me, resting her hand on my forearm. Her small fingers squeezed the heavy muscle through my sleeve, her silver signet ring cold against my tunic.

"Gareth won't attack directly," she said softly, looking down the dark trail where the envoy had vanished. "He's too smart for a frontal assault on the mountain crags. He'll use gold to buy off the smaller western clans, or try to poison our trade lines."

"Let him try," I growled, looking up at the high stone ramparts where the black wolf banner hung heavy in the damp night air. "We survived Kaelen's treason. We broke Vane's army on the bridge. A southern duke with gold coins won't break this pack."

Through the blood bond humming in my chest, I felt her fierce agreement, hot and unyielding as iron.

"Come," I said, putting my arm around her waist and pulling her close against the mountain cold. "We need to send a runner to Valerius at the Red River. The spring thaw is coming, Luna, and the real war for the North is just beginning."