Chapter 66
Chapter 66
An hour after the gruesome carnage among the feral werewolves, the air outside the town became heavy with grief as the trolls mourned their fallen kin. Robah, the sombre leader of the trolls, stood amidst the shadows, a towering figure marked by sorrow. His eyes reflected the pain of loss as he grieved for his people. Sensing the profound sorrow, Andrew and Diana, figures of wisdom and compassion, extended their condolences to the grieving troll leader. In a rare display of unity between different supernatural beings, they shared a moment of solemnity, acknowledging the shared burden of loss that transcended their diverse backgrounds. The moon hung low, casting a melancholic glow over the scene as the unlikely gathering paid homage to those who had succumbed to the brutal chaos that had unfolded earlier.
“I am sorry for your loss, Robah," Andrew said as he watched the family of trolls covered in blood and mud. Andrew followed up with, “Now, we shall bury the dead and follow us into the mountain.”
Robah nodded his head.
“In there, we will have a plan, and we will gather allies for the war that will be coming upon us. Make sure your loved ones make it safely through the abyss into the underworld.”
That was not much comfort to the troll. What Robah knew of the underworld did not reassure him. The underworld was the land of the dead, the netherworld, from which no one returned. It was said that the mouth of that land was never satisfied, and the shades of the dead rested on a bed of maggots where the worm did not die.
Andrew mumbled, “The feral attack has been suppressed for a while, but their rebellion has begun.”
The troll did not care about the rebellion. Robah did not care about the ferals. He did not care about anything anymore. His son was gone. Now, only his daughter kept him anchored to this earth. Anger poured through him, his temper sparked, and he was quivering with anger. Soon, those ferals will pay. He thought to himself.
In the early dawn, Andrew, Diana, and the remaining trolls fled in hiding.
Meanwhile, the centre of the Wetland pack was bloodshed, death was everywhere, houses and cabins were still burning, carnage was rotting in the bloody street, and humans were unaware of the truth. For them, it was a normal disgust, death upon death, famine followed as loved ones buried their dead and some burned them in the town square on fire. In the middle of the anguish, the cries of the fallen and their families in mourning were in chaos as more bloodshed followed while the remaining ferals went into the mansion's ruins and some into the caves. Waiting for the war to come.
Only a few hundred citizens of Wetland were saved from the unfaithful weeks of the feral invasion by the rampaging ferals. Similar scenes of lecherous human hunters and raiders, rebellions, and anarchy had played out in other boroughs of the south. Human messengers had been used to spread the madness to other south. Unfortunately for the mobs of humans, it was just an ordinary feud between the north and the south, unbeknownst to them, this was a war between supernatural beings, between predators.
That same source of news found its way to the west and the east, who acknowledged without abrupt justice their lofty height on White Mountain. Many of the non-feral werewolves were killed, but some of them surrendered quickly to ferals, thus making them their senior, which was highly acknowledged by Alpha George and his Beta, and those who didn't surrender to the ferals were put behind bars for further interrogation later face their execution by those who wouldn't support them in the war to come.
Alpha George and Beta Leon had arrived and called an assembly to make an announcement. The surviving inhabitants of the town assembled before the bonfire. Though Alpha George was the Alpha of Wetland, the leader of the ferals, Alexander, was the chief head, so he was travelling the circuit of boroughs in the south, making appearances at each one to promote hatred for the Whiteland and fear for the ferals. However, both knew they were playing gods, and Alpha George had his own plan after the war that involved killing the chief, but for now, he watched the chief in admiration, trying his best not to be bored and uninterested.
Chief Alexander spoke with precise control of his hatred and gave fear to everybody's heart, which moved Alpha George’s gut. He gave him all his awareness of the chief's plans to attack the Whiteland soon, yet he and his son were not so easily charmed and eventually pretended to uphold it all.
“People of Wetland, we stand before you today with shared remorse and deep regret for what happened, but this was possible because of the Whiteland betrayal of the treaty.”
Alpha George stood behind Chief Alexander, his square-built, black-bearded boldness and robustness merely concealing his resentment towards the chief yet taking note of the dance of verbal deception demonstrated in his rhetorical words. He gave attention to it with a mixture of surprise and bitterness, but he listened and learned from this master of grandiloquence.
Chief Alexander continued, “This uprising, this bloodshed, has wrought tremendous devastation throughout the southern territories of our principle. We have all suffered great losses. And I want to assure you that, on behalf of Lord's George of Wetland and of your leaders, I feel your pain.”
Disgusting, thought Beta Leon. His grizzled, moustached, and dark, round-faced face concealed a little smirk, but deep inside his resentment festered in him.
Was the chief shedding a tear? With all these human civilians and human hunters, those words were all their hopes, yet he wasn't allured by them. The chief has actually mustered up a huge crystal tear from within the frigid rock of his dark soul.
The people before them listened in resigned silence.
“The authority of Wetland has assembled and discussed what is to be done for rectitude to be administered to these delinquents and rascals. After much heart twisting, we have come to a most severe yet crucial judgement.”
Heart-twisting thought, Beta Leon. He must remember that word. It gave humans, hunters, and civilians the notion that we have a conscience and care for them; after all, humans still overshadow the supernatural community.
“The northern folks, together with Whiteland and the Waterland, have become a chaotic aristocracy of immunity and superiority,” the chief proclaimed. “They have plotted in upheaval and have verified themselves worthless in terms of their importance and sovereignty. As of this day, the northerners have removed the Wetland from overseeing you, and their governed actions have become unlawful and unfair towards you and towards the treaty. The surviving southerners will no longer be allowed to assemble, and the traitors of Wetland have been deemed outlaws for their affairs in the uprisings. They will no longer reign over you. Any northerners who are found outside the employ of the Wetland boundary or Wetland authority are considered felons and will be executed. We Southern lords have continued to be too distant and aloof from our people. But we will now leave our humble mansion and reside in the towns of our patronage. We will protect you and shepherd you with our undivided attention.”
The people murmured to one another. The leader of the human peasant movement thought, could it be true? Could the lords come and dwell among them? This seemed to make them remotely foreign in their sovereignty and miserable existence.
The plan repulsed Alpha George. These horrible organisms of bone, flesh, and excrement are despicable, he thought. Chief Alexander disclosed his true incompetence when he created such foul parasites on the human brain—his terrible image that he had sworn an oath to deconsecrate. Such a good actor; those humans who seemed willing and able to accept his sweet promises were all stupid and horrendously foolish enough to believe their lords. Such pity. They thought it was the southerners who attacked them; pity indeed; the chief was indeed a good actor.
Chief Alexander's voice carried over the populace. “Some northerners who were captured have conveyed remorse for their part in the revolt. Others did not join in. In our compassion, we have chosen to ratify these exceptional, enthusiastic ones back into the fold of our compassion. We will label them with southern tattoos of our possession and oblige them only as our watchdogs and special armies. Those who escaped their punishment into the dark forest or wilderness will be hunted down and brought to justice.”
The crowd of humans broke into instinctive cheering and applause. Alpha George and Beta Leon did not. They thought about how they might track down the ancient vampire and his woman and kill them. Those leeches will die soon, yet he tried to calm his rage and smile with the humans. "Pathetic."
The noise made Chief Alexander pause. His cadaverously robust physique bestowed a confident demeanour with a honed appearance to be all concern and all. The dramatic effect produced a delightful, spectacular, and impressive impact. He lifted his chin in the air to illustrate the supremacy of overseeing, which stimulated enthusiasm in his subordinates. He was the epitome of a genius. He rode the crest of the wave. “But good people of this abundant land, we will need your loyalty and your determination to help restore your town, build yourself into the peak of superiority to the northerners, and be a part of the war that was to come. To pursue a progressive future for your children, we where everyone will give their reasonable share and everyone will be taken care of from onwards endeavour."
More cheering and applause rang out from the humans. He motivated them, refilling them with an awareness of hope.
Alpha George chuckled to himself. These ignorant human pests have no idea that their fair share is complete and total enslavement to the Lord of the South. They were born to be baits and slaves, and they will be baited slaves from their crib to their tomb.
Lord George and the other hunters' allies had discovered the widespread monetary law and famine all over the land, and those peasants would do anything for silver coins. By heavily overtaxing those human lords and nobles and promising them their prosperity, they knew he could decrease the amount of private wealth and therefore lessen its power. By funding deprivation with government interest, they would increase poverty and thus reliance on them. Human nature is such a manageable element to manipulate when you understand how it operates. He thought.
The chief added, "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that your Duke Emanuel of the South was killed in the riots.”
Grumbles and a few sobs could be heard from the crowd. He had not finished yet. “We will appoint a new Duke to solidify the line that will oversee the will of the people.”
Alpha George thought it was a good plan—killing the Duke and appointing someone on their side. After all, this human was beyond pitiful. The will relieve supernaturals from the unpleasant millstone of human governmental bureaucracy, mused Alpha George. The werewolves of the South would look as they agreed and make the humans cover their tracks with agreements, treaties, and other unions.