Chapter Text
When the stars turn to dust;
A winter wolf will crawl from the ice.
As the sun loses its light;
Four giants will breathe new life.
When the howl turns to flames;
Betrayal will scorch corruption from the earth.
But out from the ashes, Azgeda will rise.
Present Time: Azgeda Capital
KLARK
The morning wind dances around Klark as she makes her way towards the training grounds. Over the last few weeks she has noticed the air has been getting cooler and the daylight shorter. She lets a small smirk line her lips as she welcomes the frigid air. She knows what it is foreshadowing: the coldest and harshest months are just around the corner. It’s a crucial time for her clan, the plunging temperatures and winter storms severely limit mobility between villages and Klark only hopes each village leader has been diligent in preparing for what’s to come. In the past, almost entire villages have been lost due to poor leadership.
Klark suddenly feels a tight squeeze in her chest as she remembers what happened in the Village of Allik. It was only two winters ago and was said to be one of the harshest winters Azgeda had ever experienced. Throughout Azgeda many lost their lives; however, what happened in Allik was a tragedy.
Again Klark feels a pang of sorrow. Because of her status, it wasn’t her job to travel to Allik herself – a seken would have been enough – but when she was sitting in the war room and the messenger rushed in with such anguish, Klark volunteered immediately. A decision that caused much disapproval among the generals who all worried about Klark’s safety against the blizzarding winds, but with a wave of a hand she had silenced the vocalized concerns.
A death due to starvation is not a quick one and the images of the Allik villagers’ lifeless, hollowed bodies haunt Klark to this day. Over half of the villagers met their demise and she knew all had suffered.
She remembers walking through the village. The streets were lifeless and had provoked an eerie sensation under Klark’s skin. The evidence of death was everywhere and even in its silence Klark could have sworn she heard the cries of bellowing children; bundled up in their mother’s arms all the while the spirit of death danced through Allik patiently waiting to leave his lasting kiss.
Elijah, Allik’s village leader – a stout man that whispers claimed preferred to spend his days drinking the finest Azgeda vodkas rather than tending to his duties – didn’t understand how the tragedy happened. Or so that was what he had told Klark when she visited.
However, after inspection of his storage sheds and discussion with the remaining villagers, Klark knew Allik’s demise was nothing but a product of Elijah’s own doing. She remembers wanting to cut him down in the in empty streets, but instead decided to patently wait and use Allik as a lesson for Azgeda’s other leaders.
When the solstice festival had commenced to celebrate the changing of seasons, Klark called a meeting of all village leaders. It by no means had been a formal meeting, so she remembers sporting a more casual outfit. A black tunic and slacks underneath her favourite fur cloak that was made from the hide of a great white wolf (her first kill after she was initiated as the leader of the Nia’s elite group, the bloka kom Azgeda). Regardless of the loss in formality Klark still looked fierce that day and her war paint assured that.
Normally warriors don’t wear paint in day to day life; however, all members of the bloka are required to wear paint. It has been whispered amongst the clans that those who paint themselves in the colors of the bloka possess unnatural skill and are gifted with a life of immortality. Klark always shakes her head when she hears such blasphemy as the true purpose of the painted mask is to conceal their identify from spies and other clans.
Klark knows she’s Nia’s protégé when it comes to fighting and battle strategy, but by no means does Klark believe she is immune to immortality. Especially after that fight between the pauna two winters ago that gave Klark humbling scars to prove her humanity. But of course, village tales don’t speak of the gained scars rather the large pelt that drapes over the throne in the war room – a gift Klark gave to gain favor in the eyes of her adoptive mother and that was exactly what Elijah of Allik thought he would be receiving. A gift from the legendary Klark kom Azgeda herself as his reward for saving half of his villagers from death.
Klark remembers how she called Elijah up from his spot amongst the other village leaders to discuss his efforts in Allik. His chest was puffed out and proud as he described the strategies used to mitigate the population loss within Allik.
If any of the other village leaders had glanced at Klark during Elijah’s speech they would not have known the true affect Allik had on her. As always, Klark’s face remained completely void of emotion. Piercing blue eyes full of authority. It no doubt was a terrifying sight for any onlooker. And when Elijah finished his speech the village leaders had clapped praise as he once again puffed his chest awaiting his anticipated reward.
“Elijah, today you have shared the story of Allik. Let us be reminded that the winters of Azgeda are harsh and long and in order to survive we must be properly prepared. Please come forward to receive your reward,” said Klark.
Elijah made his way closer and when Klark nodded a small servant stepped forward yielding a large axe. Gasps filled the room; the axe was a magnificent piece. Its dual blades were forged from the best metals found deep within the mountains of Azgeda. The shaft was of bone and had intricate carvings all along the handle. It was a breath-taking piece, a weapon fit for the Ice Queen herself. When Klark picked it up from the servant the motion further displayed the prowess of the weapon as its weighting appeared flawless.
Klark motioned to Elijah to kneel. She stepped closer to the stout man and spoke, “Elijah on behalf of the village of Allik I present you with your gift”. Klark raised the axe and faster than the blink of an eye swung the weapon down. The sound of Elijah’s head hitting the floor filled a shocked room with silence.
With fierce blue eyes, Klark addressed the stunned leaders, “Let this be a lesson to all, that your villages are the lifeline of Azgeda. To be the strongest clan in the coalition we need strong people. You are the leaders, it is your duty to provide for our warriors, bakers, healers, mothers, fathers, and children.
A village should not starve and be forced into cannibalism. It is your job to strategize and plan for harsh winters. Should you fail you too will receive the same gift Elijah has been given today. His soul will not be released to the other side by fire, instead his head will be hung from the gates of our capital for all to see. Let this be a reminder to all that I Klark, the daughter of your Haiplana, and second in command to Azgeda promise that any leader who fails their village fails me too. Your rewarded will be my wrath”
“Klark!”
The voice violently pulls Klark out of her memories. She quickly wipes a tear that escaped during her daydream and wonders just how long she’s been sitting there waiting for her opponent to arrive. Klark silently scolds herself for not only letting her guard down to her surroundings but is disappointed in the open display of emotion. Tears are a sign of true weakness and she knows her Mother would whip her for such a pathetic display.
After collecting herself, Klark turns around to the source of the sound and sees Echo jogging up with a sparring sword. Klark lets a small smirk slip to her lips. Of her three siblings Echo is by far her favorite. She is fierce when she needs to be but also is not afraid to show compassion – regardless of their mother’s lessons trying to tell them otherwise. Echo has a sharp tactical mind that complements Klark’s strategic vision and together they are unstoppable in battle.
“Echo”
“Ready to get your ass kicked?”
“Such brave words for someone who can barely win!” teases Klark.
Unsheathing her two swords, Klark twirls them in such a way to get the blood flowing to her arms. When Klark had started training after her accident, she took preference to the sword. Nia was so impressed with her ambidextrousness the Ice Queen quickly shoved a second sword into Klark’s left hand and the training, or as Nia called it “retraining” began.
The accident itself happened five years ago; it was an unfortunate fate. And as Klark was told all Azgeda mourned the loss of Klark’s village. But that doesn’t matter much because, well that’s just it, Klark doesn’t remember. She has tried so desperately to recall her early life but unfortunately all her memories before the age of eighteen have simply vanished and she has no recollection of who she once was.
The farthest back she can remember is to the middle of her eighteenth year standing in Nia’s throne room, covered in blood. To say Klark really remembers that memory is modest, it’s fuzzy and vague. She barely can comprehend what happened that day, but the healers say it was a result of the accident. Regardless, Klark is thankful for Nia’s teachings as her adoptive mother has helped Klark find an identify for herself as whoever she was before has vanished from Klark’s mind.
“Clank!” their weapons clash and Klark zones back in. This is the second time today she has lost focused. Klark makes a mental note that she needs to mediate today, or at least try to regain her focus. She can’t afford to be anything less than perfect, not with her upcoming responsibilities as her title demands her best.
Swish! Echo’s spear spins and makes its attack directly at Klark. Effortlessly Klark blocks it and swipes at her sister with her other sword. Echo is an exceptional warrior, especially with a spear. Many consider her to be one of the Azgeda’s best. In the earlier days of Klark’s “reprogramming” – as Nia has called it – Echo could easily beat Klark, but as the days progressed the fights eventually turned to Klark’s favor.
Nia’s training has consisted of long hours full of harsh methods and brutality. In fact, Klark has yet to miss a day of training since she has recovered from the accident. In the first stages of her reprograming Klark practically lived in the healer’s tent and her once smooth skin is now littered with old scars to prove it. Each scar reminds Klark of past mistakes and she has used these wounds as a reminder never make the same mistakes twice. Especially since Nia has never believed in a friendly spar.
Regardless of the opponent, each fight has always been a fight to the death. No matter how broken, hungry, or weak Klark was when she stepped in Nia’s ring Klark needed to fight flawlessly, that is if she wanted to survive. And because of such methods Klark has become a feared warrior.
What makes Klark such a deadly opponent is her fighting style; it is like no other grounder style, or so she has been told. The healers tell her it’s probably a result of the accident, regardless Klark doesn’t care where her fighting style came from, she just wants to remain undefeated.
In fact, only a fool would challenge Klark in an actual battle; Klark’s reputation precedes her throughout the 13 clans. Whispers can be heard about the legend of the wintam pakstoka. Azgeda’s winter wolf, who’s immortal shadow guards the helm of Azgeda. Eyes so piercing blue that warriors become paralyzed if they dare to hold her gaze. It is also said the winter wolf has never lost a battle, holding a kill list so long that many say she possess the power to swing the fate of a battle into her favour. Travellers have even reported hearing melodies from different corners of the coalition that declare once again the spirit of death has found its new Commander.
In Azgeda however, the rumours are a slightly different. None would doubt that their heir is the new Wanheda, but the emphasis resides on how Klark will fulfill the ancient prophecy. For generations this prophecy has been recited, almost prayer like, amongst villages in efforts to offset the harsh living conditions with a sense of hope for a better future. This is something Nia has used as a propagandic agenda and all worship Klark as the wolf who will lead Azgeda into greatness.
It is no secret that the people love Klark; however very few have seen her with a clean face or natural coloured hair. It is rare to see Klark without her warpaint, only those most trusted by Nia have seen Klark’s natural features – and Nia intends to keep it this way. In fact, all four members of the bloka must sport black and white paint on their entire face and down along their neck. The only distinct features between the four members is how each has chosen to authenticate themselves with accents of white paint.
Ontari’s white design replicates the same tear streaked pattern of the Commander. The reason for Ontari’s choice in design is unbeknownst to Klark who has yet to decide herself if the imitation stems out of jealousy or admiration. Demetri has chosen to use the white to resemble a skull and Echo has opted for a much simpler design and uses the white paint to highlight her lips. Klark on the other hand prefers a little more of a dramatic flare as she shades white claw marks that start at the bottom of her cheeks and extend to her lower jaw. Her design looks like oversized teeth and since her coronation a few years ago has added two small blue lines underneath her eye to signify her status.
Putting the face paint on has become almost like a beauty regimen, but Klark doesn’t mind the time she must allocate to her mask as she has found that she enjoys the way the kohl and paints feel between her fingers. However, one time she ended up getting carried away and made the mistake of using her Kohl to draw her favourite horse whose name had been Wellston.
The moment Klark had met Wellston they instantly shared a special connection. The horse was gentle and reserved yet had carried himself with a confident stride. Ontari had laughed at the name Klark picked and stated that Wellston did not necessarily scream intimidation for battle, but Klark didn’t care. To this day Klark is still unsure where she had gotten the inspiration for the name too. At the time Wellston felt like someone she once knew, someone she probably trusted and loved, but Klark hasn’t put much more thought into it. She has decided that dwelling on memories that are out of reach deters her focus from the present. And maybe this was why Nia had punished Klark when she had caught painting a picture her horse.
Nia had spared no patience as she ripped up the picture and told Klark if she ever caught her sneaking off to draw instead of training Nia would cut all her fingers off and feed her to the wolves. At first Klark thought Nia’s threats had been empty, but when she reached the stables later that day, she found Wellston slaughtered into an unrecognizable pile of meat. Ever since then, Klark has yet to draw.
“ugh!” Klark disarms Echo and places her two swords near the nape of her neck.
“Do you yield?!”
“Yes!”
Klark lets a small smirk meet her lips, but quickly retracts her smile and scolds herself for loss of composure. She hears the voice of Ardeshir, Azgeda’s most feared assassin lecture her from past teachings, “Klark, you must never show emotion during a battle, even if it is a simple spar. You may lose control or worse off an opponent may sense your feelings and manipulate them to make you lose focus. For example, what if during a battle the enemy strikes down one of your siblings? If you respond with emotion, you may let anger drive your movements for an attack when at that moment you should be preparing for the defense. Emotions will narrow the view of a battle and by losing composure you’re only setting up your demise”.
Klark feels a tinge of guilt. This is the third time today she has let her teachings slip. She needs to focus especially with the planned campaign south. She in charge of too many to let her discipline slip.
“Wait Echo, how long have we been here?”
“Hmmm maybe five candle marks?”
“I’ve let the time slip away from us! I had promised to meet Nia and she’s not going to be happy that I am late. I hear she is already in one of her moods!” and with that Klark takes off with in a sprint towards the throne room.
JULIUS
His trolly comes to a halt as warriors begin to eagerly unpack the first wagon of Julius’ delivery into the armory. With the army due to travel south, Julius was not surprised when a messenger came into his shop and handed him a heavy bag of silver and an extensive list of the new armory required. The kwin’s order had been exhaustively long and from its vast size, Julius was not sure if he could deliver the request on time. Much to his relief, the final stitch was sewn into the last leather breastplate this morning.
“The remaining wagons will be coming shortly,” said Julius to one of the warriors. “Should Kwin Klark or General Beorn have any reservations of the quality of my work, please send a messenger.”
As Julius walks back down the hall his attention is immediately captured at the sight of kwin Klark weaving in and around the warriors and political advisors scattered throughout the palace’s cold and stony courtyard walkways. As always, her face is void of emotion and many curious eyes glance towards kwin Klark as if longing to receive a few seconds of acknowledgement.
To observe Klark from afar is enough of a tale to garnish audiences around the campfires back at one’s village. Even from the examination of her strides now, any on looker would know just how dangerous she truly is. All steps are carefully placed, planned, and precise. From the way she carries herself, Julius can only imagine she is always prepared to attack or defend herself if necessary.
Klark is covered in the finest armor of all Azgeda. An exquisite display of her royalty and importance. From the way her tunic and slacks have remained wrinkled free, it is likely that this fabric was imported from the best trader in Polis. The Fabric’s rich charcoal color complements the paint that covers her face and neck. Julius smiles slightly when he notices the snow-white leathers wrapped protectively around her arms and torso. From its design there is no doubt that this is a piece crafted by Julius himself.
Julius started learning his trade at a young age when his uncle’s keen eye saw his potential. For his youthfulness he was an exceptional protégé and now at the age of forty-six, his skills are sought from all corners of the coalition. Even the Commander herself has a few of his prized pieces.
Julius remembers the day kwin Klark walked into his shop to request his talents. It was the first time he’d met the young heir and she was smaller than he had expected. Her dark, red hair was pulled tight into an intricate sequence of braids and she wore her blue sash that sat underneath her pauldren – a statement piece crafted from the skull of a wolf, which Julius found very fitting for the heir who is known as the winter wolf.
Julius remembers quivering inside when his eyes rested on her dual blades. The weapons’ cost was no doubt more than his years wages since the blades’ distinctive shine gave evidence that they were forged with the strongest metals of Azgeda. A metal so rare it is can only be found deep within the Illok caves and requires a special blacksmith to work with the substance. In fact, Julius only knows of two who are talented enough to work with such material.
However, the most unexpected memory of kwin Klark was when she was being fitting for her armor she had asked about his family. Julius felt shy at first, but she had commanded him to speak true and he opened up. Julius had discussed the hardships his village was facing and how many, including his own small children, were suffering. Klark’s stoic expression made him feel like he had overstepped; however, the next day when he returned home from his shop, wagons of food were being passed out by local warriors. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not, but after that day Julius believes Azgeda is lucky to have her as their future Queen. Kwin Klark’s icy stare may be chilling, but Julius suspects there is much more warmth behind the strong façade than the redhead lets on.
NIA
In unison the two guards push open the heavy doors to the war room. The old wood creaks under the wood’s weight, announcing Klark’s entrance. Removing her attention from the maps scattered across the long stone table, Nia looks up at her daughter.
Nia is proud of the version of Klark she created. She remembers hearing the reports from her spies about a blonde Skai Heda who was full of vigor and possessed a sharp strategic mind. At first Nia scoffed off the reports, but soon Clarke proved herself legendary when she took down the mountain and Wanheda took her first breath. Nia remembers thinking how she wanted nothing more than to steal Clarke, slit her throat, and harness the power of Wanheda for herself. As she believed such power was be the key to fulfilling the Azgedian prophecy and rise her nation to ultimate power.
However, there had been a slight problem. At the time, Azgeda was not yet part of the Commander’s coalition. And Azgeda’s warriors couldn’t be caught sneaking around the other clans looking for the Skai princess. If they had been caught breaking the peace treaty the Commander would have seen Azgeda as a threat and declared war. Not that Nia was afraid of war, but at the time war with the other clans was too premature. So she needed to obtain her prize using other methods and the only way Nia could achieve this was to become the thirteenth clan.
Nia had summoned all her advisors and generals to the capital to discuss the logistics of joining the Commander’s pack of mindless rats. And after weeks of eyerolling meetings and a few necessary decapitations later she eventually appointed Chester (a man who possessed a certain charisma and a strong knack for politics) to take the brand and act as Azgeda’s ambassador in Polis.
It was not long after the mountain had fallen that Nia herself had accompanied Chester on the long journey to Polis. Their travel party had consisted of twenty warriors – hand chosen for their intimidating stature – and a few healers and other advisors. The journey was much slower than normal due to the wagons overflowing with goods as it had been Nia’s intent to showcase Azgeda could offer more than just trouble and distrust.
The wagons were stocked with the finest vodkas, furs, foods, and weaponry all forged with precious metals from the Illok mountains. It was an impressive fleet and Nia timed the delivery just right. Exactly one month after the fall of the mountain her party rolled into Polis. As she had suspected, all clan leaders were still in the city, high off victory, and attending the longwinded celebrations.
She remembers doubting Polis would be a warm welcome. It had been up to one person’s word and Nia had concerns that the bitch of a Commander would not even consider accepting Azgeda as the 13th clan especially after their shared history, but of course Alexandra had taken the bait. In Polis Nia knelt before the young Heda for all the other 12 clan leaders to see. And when Chester held out his forearm to take the brand, Azgeda officially claimed the 13th seat at the Commander’s table and the first step to filling the prophecy had been made.
Nia had used the celebrations as a distraction and through sheer luck, Wanheda fell right into her hands. Except her plans took a drastic turn when Clarke had her unfortunate accident. Nia likes to think of herself as an adaptable leader, so she decided her plans for Wanheda could be adapted as well. And as the legend of Wanheda started to fade away and tears stopped flowing for the lost Skai princess, the whispers of the winter wolf soon started to swirl fear in the hearts of men.
Nia feels a small smirk begin to curl across her cold chapped lips; she is a mastermind. Ever since she has sat on the throne, Nia has manipulated the pieces of the ground’s game in her favor. Her work with Klark has been nothing but exceptional. She has molded a tragic turn into a masterpiece and the girl before her will be the key to Nia’s greatest desire: absolute of power.
Meeting the gaze of her little winter wolf Nia notices how Klark’s eyes are so willing, so eager to please, but at the same time the authoritativeness behind the stare reminds Nia so much of herself.
“So tell me my little wolf, do you remember your teachings?” questions Nia
“Sha, my Queen”
Nia steps closer to Klark eyeing her up head to toe. In a few days she will be sending Klark off on her first journey outside of Azgeda’s boarders since the accident five years ago. For five years much energy has been poured into the propaganda of Klark, Azgeda’s winter wolf. And now Nia needs the reassurance that the old Clarke will not be coming back.
“Do you remember how you became my daughter?”
“Yes, my Queen. I--”
“Please Klark, call me mother. It is just you and I in this war room, there is no need for such formalities at this time.”
Klark’s shoulders relax slightly as she makes her way to the seat across from Nia. Looking at her mother Klark begins to recite a story she has been reminded of countless times.
“My village was destroyed by invaders when I was eighteen. I lost everything that day, my family, my friends and my first love. I only escaped because the invaders thought I was dead from the large gash in my head. When I woke up in the throne room covered in blood, I didn’t know where or who I was, but Nimera was there to quickly sedate me. Her calming face is the furthest memory I have in my life.”
Klark clenches her jaw and Nia can almost feel the anger sparking in Klark’s own chest. The story itself is true, but Klark’s plotline in Ironoak’s demise is nothing more than Nia’s own well-crafted lie. The illusion of the heir’s origins has been bought by Azgeda, including Klark herself. The gruesome imagery Nia has painted over the years has stirred a deep hatred in Klark as Klark believes everything she has once loved has been taken by a group of people driven by entitlement. Ironoak did indeed succumbed to tragic fate and the most convenient detail for Nia is that many believe the Commander turned a blind eye and failed to intercede when one of her clans violated the peace treaty held in place with Azgeda.
Of course, Klark doesn’t remember the attack, but Nia has been sure to remind her just who was responsible for the merciless act: a clan who fell from the sky. At the time of the attack, Nia remembers being intrigued about the details coming from the scouts. At first, she thought it was a trick, but then more reports came. After Ironoak’s slaughter, her trackers eventually tailed the group long enough to learn the invaders called themselves a farm station. Not a very intimidating name, but when Nia had inspected the horrific wounds caused by their weaponry Nia decided to let them pass through Azgeda and into the Commander’s lands without further confrontation.
The generals of course, had protested shouting Jus drein jus daun, but the Nia reminded them that in order to have seek proper revenge they must be alive to do so. ‘Patience,’ she had reassured them, ‘have I ever let you down? Trust me when I say our ancient prophecy is in the midst of becoming fulfilled. Patience and I promise once the wolf howls we will see Jus drein jus daun repaid in tenfold’.
Nia herself has always hated the Skaikru. It has been over five years since they made a home on her ground. Over the years, the Commander’s apparent favoritism for the parasite of a clan has always gotten on Nia’s nerves. However, with the ironic twist of Klark’s shared hatred for the Skai people, Nia finds she can tolerant the vermin a little more.
Nia turns her attention back to Klark. The girl appears to be lost in thought, but unlike the stoic expression Klark had on earlier, her face is now darkened with sadness. The shift in Klark’s demeanor flips Nia’s stomach with excitement. This is the precise moment Nia has been waiting for. Klark’s usual presence is one of stone, possessing impeccable control over emotions. Yet in this moment Nia can tell Klark’s walls are unguarded as a rare vulnerability has emerged. There has yet to be such an opportunity to manipulate Klark into Nia’s favor.
“Klark my dear,” Nia runs her fingers along the young heir’s cheek. Nia is not sure that this is a comforting act, but she’s watched other mothers in the capital do this, so she feels like this action would be considered a motherly one. As Klark leans further into her for comfort, Nia cannot help but smile at how effective her deception is.
“Klark, I know the aguish you are feeling inside. Although I have never lost memories, I have suffered the loss of those I once loved too. When the Commander marched her armies North, I had no choice but to surrender. The bloodshed was too much for my heart to bare so I had sent for messengers to meet the Commander to propose a truce.
During the negotiations she offered me the opportunity to become the twelve clan of the coalition. Yet I had refused. I didn’t trust the Commander and felt that she had ulterior motives. So, to keep Azgeda fully autonomous I proposed a peace treaty instead.
Of course, a peace treaty is not as binding so many of Alexandra’s advisors had been suspicious of my motives. However, much to my surprise she accepted with only one condition. She would give us our peace treaty in exchange for Roan’s head. If I remember the Commander’s words correctly it was ‘a head for a head’”
Nia lets her lip quiver slightly as a tear slips down her face, an act of course, but nonetheless it’s a believable one. Truthfully, Nia had never cared about the loss of Roan. She remembers thinking how his death was rather unfortunate, but it was a necessary one. The man was her only true son, but he was a disgrace. He was too caring and too compassionate; weak minded that had been full of so much unnecessary emotion. Yes, he had promise of a fearless warrior, but his lack of leadership skills would have been his downfall. Roan’s loss may have ended her bloodline, but Nia had taken matters into her own hands and found others more suited for succession – the bloka kom Azgeda.
Due to her age, Nia knew she would not have any more children, so she sought adoption. A few years after Roan’s death she sent out her fastest riders to all corners of Azgeda. Their mission had been quite simple, yet one of upmost secrecy. If she remembers correctly her orders were short and to the point: “find me the next heir of Azgeda. They must be promising warriors if you bring me a healer you will lose you head. If you bring me a baker your tongue will be ripped from your mouth. If you bring me teacher, you will be flayed alive. I will accept nothing but the best of my new children. And if you find the perfect candidate who belongs to a family… well I trust you know what to do”.
The riders had brought Demetri first. He was a towering boy with abnormally large muscles for his age. He had been rescued from a wildfire that unexpectantly swept into his village – his family conveniently succumbed to the flames. Then came Echo, she was a true orphan. She lived in the village of Nashar, a smaller establishment near the border of the Woods clan. Echo had lost her family to the mountain after her parents went searching for her runaway sister. Then came Ontari.
Ontari’s family lived in the caves near the mines of Illok. Conveniently one of Nia’s riders had discovered she was a night blood after he witnessed Ontari’s opponent cut deep into her arm during a morning spar. Shortly after Ontari’s whole clan was killed after a pauna viciously attacked the caves – or so that’s the story Nia riders have invented.
Ontari had been Nia’s best kept secret until Klark came along to become the fourth and final member of the bloka. Sure, Ontari will soon serve her purpose, but unlike Klark she isn’t heir material. Which is why Nia has gone great lengths over the years to ensure Clarke will only be remembered as Klark, the winter wolf sprung from the ice.
“So you see Klark. I may never be your birth mom, but my love for you and your siblings runs just as deep as it did for Roan,” said Nia wrapping her arms around Klark. “A mother never lets her children’s pain go unpunished. Together we will seek justice for your loss. They will pay, but in time my child. We must have patience for Jus drein jus daun. Do you understand what I am saying my little wolf?”
Klark nods, turning her face slightly away from Nia. Nia observes Klark’s bashful reaction and knows her deception is working well. It is evident Nia’s words have touched Klark and once again Nia smiles with pride that she has successfully fabricated a sense of maternal connection. When Klark composes herself, Nia knows it’s time to plan. Reaching forward she carefully unfolds the worn maps across the stone table.
“As you can see Klark the distance to the Glowing Forest will be great and it will be full of firsts. Not only will this be the first time you leave Azgeda’s boarders, but this is also the first time Azgeda will march alongside the Commander’s army and not against it.” The mention of the Commander twists Klark’s face into a hateful scowl – causing Nia to celebrate another silent victory before continuing. “Since the mountain, we have lived in peace, but now an unknown threat wreaks havoc on the Glowing Forest’s Western boarders. Let this be our time to show the clans who they should really fear.”
Nia has spoken true. This will be the first time Azgeda has marched with the Commander and not against her. Even though Azgeda is part of the coalition, Nia has kept many polices that keep the Ice nation an isolated, unwelcoming place to other clans. In fact, many still view Azgeda as the problem child, a clan lessor developed and more savage than the rest. Other than traders, Azgeda does not see many visitors which means the monstrous size of Nia’s army has never been confirmed by an outsider – that is until now.
Intimidation is a must and if the vast size of her army doesn’t achieve this, she knows her royal children will. For the last five years Nia has used her means to plant whispers amongst the clans about the bloka. Many stories started out small, but as they were passed from village to village the claims about the bloka have become so over exaggerated, the arrival of the Nia’s divine gods is highly anticipated.
“They will know who to fear,” said Klark. “This is biggest army Azgeda has ever assembled. Surly we out number any other clan three to one. I promise you mother I will win you the respect you deserve.”
“And I will not accept anything less,” replies Nia. “Have you discussed with the other generals the logistics of the deployment?”
“Yes. I suspect that in two days our entire army will be gathered. I agree with General Leo that the fastest route will be directly south through the top half of the Trikru’s boarders before cutting south west into the Blue Cliff territory. I have also spoken with Nimera and she has agreed to provide us twenty-five healers to ensure the health of our army.
Once we set up camp in the Glowing forest territory, I will take the opportunity to introduce myself to the clan leaders. I have done extensive research on each leader and it is my plan to present them all with fitting gifts. I believe this is the best way to see who is receptive of us and who still sees us as a threat. Allowing us to see who would be most responsive of furthering trade routes or forming stronger alliances.”
Nia nods in a rare sign of approval, “Good. If everything goes as planned, we will need to make sure we have these strong alliances.”
“Is there any other task you wish me to accomplish on my journey my Queen?”
Nia listens to Klark’s question carefully. Klark is planning to play the perfect political game. However, maybe the prophecy that had been told to Nia this morning is right, there’s no more time for planning. It’s time to start moving the pieces around on the ground. Nia’s mouth twists into a wicked grin as a small chuckle escapes from her pale lips.
“Why yes, my little wolf, there is one thing I ask of you,” said Nia as her once faux maternal demeanor morphs into one feral with vengeance. “Perhaps I have changed my mind. As the witch prophesized to me this morning, I think it is time for us to start seeking our jus drein jus daun. After the war has been won, I want you to bring me the head of the Commander.”