Only Villains Do That

Half of showtime is timing, which means among other things recognizing when it is not showtime.

My late-night visit to the cat village was brief, smooth, and above all quiet, because the single most obvious thing about the cats was that they were terrified of me. Some from personal experience; I’d sent back the remains of a war party who had seen firsthand the effects of my anger, heard me threatening to carpet North Watch with their skins and not doubted that I’d literally do it. The rest had merely heard about all this, and been told who was responsible for the entire forest going up in flames, which it seemed was enough.

I can put on a speech with the best of them, but the thing about a big, bombastic speech is that there’s really no way to do that and soothe people. So I kept my visit low-key. I talked briefly with each of the multiple tribal leaders—their society was complex and surprisingly democratic, with Djast apparently being more a chief diplomat than chief executive as I understood it—cast Heal on everybody who had any health complaints, and had Kasser look around at the condition of the village so he could begin making plans to repair and improve it. He grumbled about having to do so in the dark, because it was Kasser, but he also perked up in that way he did when I threw him an interesting new project.

And then we left. Keszil had already stayed behind at the fortress, declaring she was too old to go stomping around the forest at night, and Jessak—to my surprise—volunteered to return to North Watch with us as a representative. I could plainly tell she meant “hostage,” but…fine. Jessak was afraid of me because I’d gone about as hard as I ever had on anyone to make her so; it would be pretty churlish to complain. Either she’d relax as she got more used to us, or I’d request a different representative. At the very least, it was pretty brave of her to stay the night in a fortress full of people who, unlike me, probably did want her specifically dead.

I went to bed, close to midnight, the ruler of an entire new people—to my own surprise—and got up well before dawn to get to work on the next.

“Their leadership is more…straightforward than ours,” Jessak explained as we hiked through the snow at dawn. Clouds still hung heavy overhead, but at least it had stopped coming down at some point during the night. Not before the drifts had accumulated knee-deep in places, though—and that was here beneath the khora. Flat, exposed ground must be absolutely blanketed. “The wolf tribe is led by their shaman and their chief warrior. They issue dictates, and the people obey; the only balance of power is between those two. I know the chief warrior is always the strongest and can be replaced by whoever successfully challenges the incumbent; their shamanic traditions are more…complicated, and private. In any case, those are the two you will have to, um, persuade.”

“Rule by strength,” I murmured. “Not ideal for running a society, but pretty handy for somebody like me to come in and take over.”

She nodded, then flinched as if fearing the agreement would anger me.

“Velaven, any insight to add to that?”

“When dealing with such dynamics, my lord, it is best to pick a side and throw your power behind them,” Velaven answered. “Co-opting an existing power structure is always far simpler than building a new one from the ground up. What you must prevent at all costs is both of them uniting against you; that would render these people ungovernable. This will be difficult if the two factions are in harmony, but quite simple if they struggle between themselves for power. The method is almost pathetically easy if we approach it with foreknowledge of the dynamic in place. Going in blind, we will have to observe quickly and improvise. It will be…tricky, but not overly difficult, I think.”

“I’m sorry, Dark Lord, that is as much as I know,” Jessak said, her ears lowering. She hunched her shoulders, too, looking as if she expected to be hit.

“It’s fine, I can’t reasonably expect you to know such details. We’ll make do with what we can pull off. Biribo, pay attention for Velaven whispering insights and advice if applicable.”

“You don’t need to tell me the obvious, boss. Speaking of, that clearing is just ahead. And the rest of the wolf tribe just came into range of my senses past that. Looks like we’ll beat ‘em there, but not by too much.”

“Good. And their scouts?”

“Still shadowing our flanks, just out of earshot. The northern one just cycled back to report and was replaced. The main tribe will know we’re here. Our people behind us are on schedule as well. Mimi and Ismreth are scouting ahead on their mounts and will keep the main force appraised of our position.”

“Excellent. All according to plan so far.”

Mindful of Djast’s advice, I had brought with me only Jessak, Velaven, and the members of my spirit bond. And Newneh, because Nazralind still wouldn’t go anywhere without her after spending a few days birdless in Kzidnak. Currently, Naz was on foot and leading Newneh by the bridle while Zui perched in the saddle. I had to give Zui credit, she had plowed gamely through what to her were waist-high snowdrifts for ten minutes before requesting a ride.

But that was just for now. The larger force was hanging back so as not to spook the wolves, but would approach and provide backup once the tribe was committed to the encounter.

And then… We would see what we’d see.

Ahead, the khora parted and we emerged into a clearing blanketed in white. It wasn’t overly large, maybe around the size of the North Watch courtyard, but that still made it the biggest open space I’d seen this deep into the forest. Not that the ground was flat, exactly; even under the thick snowfall I could see the ridges formed by massive khora roots and ground-level protrusions from the two enormous sentinels which loomed over the space like golden four-story racks of antlers. The khora themselves were still, silent shell formations in this weather, having retracted their fronds from the cold.

I stepped forward, finding a good spot to take up position, and waited. This glade was far longer than it was wide, and I had fortuitously arrived near the middle of one of its long sides; that would position me to be seen by the maximum number of wolf tribe members when they came out of the line of khora from the other direction. And all without disturbing the snow with a bunch of tracks which would reveal I had carefully positioned myself for maximum effect. Showtime only works if it looks effortless.

It was not lost on me that what I was doing was the opposite of proper strategy for a fight; we would be facing, at best, a much wider line of opponents and were vulnerable to being encircled out here. I had my own forces coming after us, but for a while, at least, we would be vulnerable. The idea was for this to be a…well, a relatively peaceful discussion, but come on.

How many of my discussions went that way?

“Almost here,” Biribo murmured. “Wait—oh, shit. Okay, boss, stay calm.”

Wait, what? How the hell was I supposed to stay calm when he just dropped that and then clammed up?

But I had to, because that was when the wolves began to emerge from amid the khora shells.

The catfolk were mostly about human-sized, with sleek fur. These were taller, on average, and their coats seemed more shaggy. They also had more variation in color than existed among the cats I’d met, who tended to have black fur with brown or gray markings; the wolves who trickled out into the open before me came in every color wolves actually did, from nearly white to nearly black, and interesting shades of not only gray and brown but reddish and blond.

More intimidating than their size was their faces. Like the cats, these were not the friendly, big-eyed furries of cartoons. Just towering people covered in thick fur, with the predatory heads of wolves, balanced on enormous digitigrade paws. An awful lot of those pointed ears swiveled ominously backward at the sight of me.

They were dressed similarly to the cat tribe, which was to say, less than the rest of us in our winter bundling. Built-in fur must be really nice at this time of year. Probably a nightmare in the summer, though.

The chief warrior—Rath Kadora was his name, according to Djast—was easily spotted. He was one of the first into the clearing, apparently a lead-from-the-front kind of guy. I had to respect that. Also, he was the tallest wolfman within view, and powerfully built to match, the kind of person whose sheer physical presence would have been intimidating were I not confident in my ability to kill him with just my brain. As icing on the cake he was apparently Blessed with Might, or at the very least carrying an artifact spear. It glowed subtly to my own Blessed eyes, but I probably could have recognized it as an artifact from its design: the head was shaped and intricately engraved to resemble a silver leaf, with gleaming steel vines twining down the crimson akornin shaft. That thing was a stark contrast to the more rustic gear the rest of the tribe had.

The wolves straggled to a halt, forming a rough line a little less than halfway across the clearing. Those on the front rank all had weapons in hand, a mix of spears, bows, and slings. I took note that they looked tired; the fur obscured the most obvious signs of hunger, but the way many of them hunched slightly suggested fatigue, and perhaps that they weren’t as protected from the cold as they would like to be.

Rath Kadora strode forward, directly toward me with his eyes locked on mine. I watched him come, just as impassive. He stopped a very specific distance away, I noted: within the range of his spear, but not my rapier. This guy might rule by strength, but it was worth bearing in mind that strong people are not necessarily stupid.

The chief warrior halted, planting the butt of his spear in the snow, and stared at me for a moment. He then looked quickly over my assembled companions, then pointedly at Biribo and Jessak in turn, before finally returning his yellow eyes to mine.

“Well?”

I regarded him right back, then slowly panned my own gaze to the left and the right and finally back to him, making a show of taking in the sight of his assembled tribe.

“This is an awful lot of people suddenly traveling across my land, uninvited,” I said. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“Your land.” His lip curled back, baring a lot of canine fangs, and I was suddenly glad I’d insisted on Junko staying behind at the fortress despite her immense displeasure at this. The last thing I needed here was her reacting instinctively to canine hostility signals. “This has been the territory of the cat tribe of Dount since well before your grandparents’ birth, human.”

“And now it is mine,” I answered, “as are they. A result of their attempting to seize my fortress. Why?” I paused, letting the weight of it hang in the air for a moment. “Were you planning to make the same mistake?”

The gathered wolves muttered, shuffled and exchanged looks. Rath Kadora narrowed his eyes, staring me down, but in his silence I interpreted my first victory. This really had thrown a wrench into his plans, and all his assembled people knew it. He didn’t have a ready answer for this.

“Your fortress, is it?” It was not, to my surprise, the chief warrior who spoke, but another wolf who stepped forward from the assembled throng. “I wonder if you realize just what trouble you invite by claiming that old ruin. I see you’ve made some accommodation with the dark elves, so it’s the other elves you should worry about. And who are you, aside from an outlander with…diverse taste in women?”

“And that’s the chief shaman, according to the respective mutterings of Velaven and Jessak,” Biribo murmured right in my ear. “Careful, boss, she’s Blessed with Magic. Lower middling power.”

I was barely paying any attention to him.

Nor, in fact, to the chief shaman, but to her entourage. She had another wolf with her, a younger male striding along at her side carrying a staff like her own. And on her other side…

“Sato!” I exclaimed before I could think to stop myself.

The halfbreed boy shivered in the snow. We had given him a coat when we’d last seen him; there was no sign of it now. At least he still had shoes—they were his shabby old shoes from before, but still—but his brown skin was turning an unhealthy color along his exposed arms and face. His hands were bound behind his back and a heavy leather collar had been fastened around his neck, attached to a braided leash being tugged by the chief shaman. Bruises and dried blood marred his exposed skin.

I felt it rise within me, my old friend rage. Like a sleeping monster it uncurled, rubbing its coarse fur against me and purring in the satisfaction of knowing it was about to be fed. This was a slow, deliberate rage, the swelling tide of inevitable violence under my control, willing to be restrained for the moment because I had no intention of denying it.

“You know this accursed creature?” The shaman yanked Sato’s leash, causing him to stumble forward into the snow. Behind me, I heard the distinctive click and rasp of Aster pulling her greatsword from its holster and into ready position. Some of the surrounding wolves raised weapons of their own.

I ignored them.

“Heal!”

Pink light burst around Sato, causing him to jerk upright with a gasp. The dried blood didn’t evaporate, of course, but the bruises vanished. Also color returned to his skin. Huh; Heal worked on frostbite. Well, that was good to know.

“Do not interfere with a shaman’s business, outlander,” the woman snapped, giving the leash another savage tug. “This brat is an evil omen, the manifestation of ill tidings. A living harbinger of our misfortune. I am restraining further calamity from us by keeping him contained.”

“That is abject, driveling bullshit and I rather suspect you know it,” I stated, projecting firmly across the clearing now. “Misfortune and omens? Please. There are no mysteries at the heart of this world. There are only two goddesses in full control, and neither of them cares about your fate, or his. I, however, do.”

“And just who are you, and why should it matter to us?” Rath Kadora rumbled.

I drew my rapier, causing even more wolves to raise weapons. I ignored them, watching the chief warrior’s eyes follow the sword.

“You’re Blessed,” I said. “You can see it. This is an artifact.”

I waited for him to nod once in reply to the shaman’s questioning look, then slammed the rapier back into its sheath and held out my hand, conjuring a dancing Firelight above my palm.

“This is a spell, as was the one you just saw me use. And this is my familiar. Biribo, say something to our guests. Make sure they know you’re not some kind of trained pet.”

“Oh, what, I gotta perform on command, now?” he complained, loudly. “You know, boss, I’m a divine being, appointed by the dark goddess herself. What’s a lizard gotta do to have a little dignity?”

“You see my Blessings,” I stated, staring at the shaman’s widening eyes. Yep, she got it. “So I will ask you, then. Who. Am. I?”

She wasn’t the only one. Rath Kadora did not retreat—he didn’t seem like the type—but he raised his chin in an alarmed posture, instinctively shifting his paws into a balanced fighting stance in the snow, ears angling farther backward. Around the clearing, more wolves muttered and shifted, the stir spreading as those who didn’t catch on had it explained to them.

“So,” the shaman said, watching me closely. “A…Hero has come to oppose us?”

“Oh,” I stage whispered, “you should be so lucky.”

Pause a beat for effect while they parsed that… Sato was still shivering in the snow, but I knew I could put him right in the end. Timing mattered and this had to be handled properly, otherwise a lot more lives than just his were on the line.

“And now, woman,” I continued, “you will release my friend Sato, and explain your treatment of him. Speak quickly, and…persuasively.”

Her hand tightened on the leash, twitching once as if she wanted to yank it again but knew very well that it would be her final mistake. At her side, the other wolf (a younger shaman, maybe? An apprentice?) was staring, wide-eyed, back and forth between her and myself. I also caught Rath Kadora’s displeased sidelong look at her, and the visible discomfort of several of the onlookers who averted their eyes from the spectacle of the shaman and her prisoner.

Well, good. It might actually be the strategically correct decision to do what I was definitely about to do regardless of how much trouble it caused.

“Prophecies,” she said in a carefully controlled tone after a second’s thought, “become self-fulfilling. You are a leader yourself…Dark Lord. You understand what it takes to harness the passions of a people, in times of great strife. They need an enemy to fight, or they will succumb to despair.”

“This again,” I groaned. “For fuck’s sake, people, you live as victims and outcasts at the whims of various elves and humans. You have enemies. Stop making up new ones!”

“Hnh,” Rath Kadora grunted with clear and loud approval. The shaman shot him a filthy look before returning her attention to me.

“None who are ready to hand, Dark Lord. The tribe needed reassurance. To see an enemy who is…restrained. Under control.”

I breathed slowly, deliberately. The bite of winter in the air was bracing; I felt as if its clarity in my lungs was the only thing keeping me in check in that moment.

“A scapegoat.”

Sato raised his head to stare pleadingly up at me, his ears lowered to the sides.

The shaman nodded, also holding my gaze. Her eyes were not pleading, but…insistent. Confident.

“For the greater good,” she hissed, “for the good of your people, sacrifices must be made.”

I stared back at her, letting the silence hover over us, the weight all but physical. Giving them all space to wonder who was going to be crushed when it fell.

“You’re so right,” I finally said.

She smiled in triumph, inhaling sharply and opening her mouth to answer.

“Velaven, kill her.”

The silver arrow sprouted from between the shaman’s eyes before her expression could finish changing. She toppled over backward in a spray of blood.

I was still not entirely sanguine about Velaven, and publicly relying on her wouldn’t have been my first choice. But Aster couldn’t cross the distance fast enough to be as effective, nor was her weapon suited for such precision, and I was not at all certain Nazralind was cold enough to execute someone on command. So I made do with the resources I had.

The shock commanded silence for another moment before the wolves began shouting, some brandishing weapons. The younger shaman let out an anguished wail and bent over his fallen elder.

Rath Kadora deliberately relaxed his posture, still leaning on his spear, and nodded at me. Just once, and very slightly.

“Sato,” I said, raising my voice above the hubbub, “come on over here. Zui, get him out of those.”

The young half-wolf staggered to his feet, taking a step toward me, and then froze when the stricken-looking younger shaman surged upright and rounded on him. Several of the assembled wolves began to stride toward him with purposeful expressions and weapons upraised.

“Kill anyone who attempts to interfere with him.” I kept my voice firm, even, and powerful enough to be heard through the commotion. “And then whoever is standing to either side of them.”

Nazralind, Velaven, and Jessak all drew arrows, all three aiming at the surviving shaman, who froze. Aster took a long stride forward, planting her right foot in a position from which she could spring and sweep her greatsword in a devastating arc. The oncoming wolves all halted mid-stride.

Sato, his ears flat against his skull, looked tremulously at me, then up at the remaining shaman, and took one long step into the snow in my direction.

The shaman was staring back at him, and I saw the moment when he snapped. His eyes widened, fangs baring in their entirety, and he braced himself to lunge for the boy’s throat.

Immolate.

There was, as usual, much panicked yelling from the onlookers as one of their own dissolved into flames and howls of agony, but most immediately important, it spurred Sato to lunge forward. He stumbled awkwardly through the snow toward us. Aster was already moving forward to meet him, plating herself protectively between him and the wolves with her greatsword at the ready.

Nazralind had already put down her bow and now tugged off her own coat, which she held up and swept around Sato’s shoulders the second Zui had sliced through the cords binding his hands. While he struggled into the sleeves, the goblin gently pulled his head down, murmuring in that soothing tone she was so good at (though never to me, I noted) to unfasten the collar.

“That spell.”

I turned back from observing this to face Rath Kadora, who was watching the younger shaman twitching and steaming within a puddle of melted snow, his own canine face expressionless. “He burns, but does not die. I assume he will come back stronger than before, yes? A healing spell. A cruel one.”

The wolf chieftain turned to stare me down, tightening his grip on his spear.

“I have seen this spell before, have I not?”

That was when the rest of my force caught up.

The assembled wolves shuffled and shifted again, raising weapons as ranks of crossbow-wielding humans melted out of the khora opposite them. I had left North Watch staffed by an adequate force of defenders and brought every other combat-ready crusader; we didn’t have the numbers on hand to overwhelm the entire wolf tribe in the open, but their noncombatants were still hiding in the khora. Suddenly our assembled force was a rough numerical match for the warriors and hunters who had come ahead into the clearing to face us.

And, of course, there was a Dark Lord to consider, to say nothing of my Blessed subordinates. The risk of the wolves attacking had just plummeted to nearly nothing.

“What happened to your village, to bring you all out into the snow?” I asked. “Surely the entire thing didn’t burn.”

“Hah! We are not so easily chased off, Dark Lord.” Rath Kadora thumped the butt of his spear into the ground once, making a muffled noise in the snow. At his side some distance away, the younger shaman was just now raising his head, whole again and very wet, wreathed by steam. That was gonna be uncomfortable in this chilly air. “We lost food stores, homes, and most of the outer defenses, but even that would not drive us from what is ours. It will be a lean winter, but we are survivors. But it seems ours was not the only place damaged. The undead are pouring up from the south.”

This caused muttering among my own ranks, which I had to trust my commanders to get under control as the conversation in front of me required my full focus.

“Undead?”

“I believe I see the way of it, now.” Rath Kadora looked again at Jessak. “The cats tried to seize your fortress, did they? Fools. So you showed them what it means to trifle with a Dark Lord. Showed us all.” His voice was oddly neutral, neither resentful nor impressed. “It appears you riled the witch of the south, though. Her vile spawn are surging through our territory.”

“Witch?” Fuck, Rhydion’s zombie problem. I recalled the paladin telling me the likely cause of it… “There’s a Void witch?” Aw, man, another one? Already? I just got rid of the last Void witch, and he was way more trouble than he should’ve been.

“Who knows?” The wolfman shrugged, thumping his spear again. “If so, she doesn’t use it. The stink of the Void has not afflicted our forest in many years, and the witch has always been there. Only the squirrels talk to her directly; from her they learned what they know of poison. She wants rare reagents for alchemy, sometimes other goods. Occasionally she traffics with some bandit gang or other; the last such was wiped out by… Well, you, I suppose. The witch mostly bothers no one, avoiding the attention of the Fflyr. Once in a while a zombie will wander free, but they never last long; mostly she controls her evil spawn. But now they are swarming through our forest. Many are weak, but some are deadly and fast. And all are rotten, putrid things. They spread disease among game and people alike, foul water sources.”

He hesitated, then bared his teeth again.

“We cannot deal with them while also surviving the loss of so much of our resources. Especially with the village’s outer defenses in ruin. And now,” he added, his voice lowering to a growl, “here you are, between my people and our only hope.”

After I was the one to cause all their problems in the first place, he loudly did not say.

“I believe in responsibility,” I stated, my voice ringing across the clearing. “So I will help you. No, you may not drive the cat tribe from their home and seize it. They are my people now. And that,” I drew my rapier and pointed it at the corpse of the shaman cooling in the snow, “is what happens to those who harm my people. So I’ll put to you the question.”

I swept my gaze across the assembled wolf tribe again, meeting a few of their eyes. Their expressions were slightly hard to parse but they mostly didn’t seem optimistic about this turn of events.

“Would you like to be my people, too?”

Rath Kadora opened his mouth to speak, but the younger shaman preempted him, surging forward and baring his fangs and claws at me, ignoring the arrows suddenly pointed at his chest.

“Dark Lord or not, I will have your blood, monster!”

“There’s really no possible outcome where you get that,” I said mildly. “Before you embark on a path of revenge, first dig two graves.”

I could immediately hear both Zui and Nazralind making choked noises, but at least they had the good taste not to do so loudly.

“There will be no peace between us,” the surviving shaman hissed. “For your cruelty—”

“My cruelty? At least I kill cleanly.” Usually. Sometimes. “Who was keeping an innocent boy on a leash to be whipped for their own amusement? Time to let this go, son.”

“She was my mother!” he snarled, pointing at the fallen shaman.

Ah.

“I guess we’re not going to reach an accord, then,” I acknowledged.

“I care not what power you wield,” he said, flexing his clawed hands. “I will taste your blood if it costs me the last drop of my own, Dark Lord!”

I nodded. “I respect that.”

Then I used a Heat Beam at maximum intensity and minimum spread to boil his left eyeball in his skull.

Really, a less powerful version of the spell would suffice to blind him for what I planned next, but after what he and his mother had been doing to Sato, fuck this guy.

The wolfman screamed aloud, clutching at his face and staggering backward. Beside him, Rath Kadora stood with his spear upright, watching this without expression.

My legs, toned by months of near-constant walking, propelled me forward in a lunge; my Surestep Boots guaranteed me perfect footing even in the snow and the uneven ground underneath. The Rapier of Mastery practically guided itself once in my hand.

The blade ran him straight through the heart before he knew what was happening.

“As I said, responsibility.” I stepped back, flicking a splatter of blood free from my sword to stain the snow, while the last shaman of the tribe collapsed to the ground, twitching amid a crimson stain spreading around himself. “You people decided to make yourselves feel better about your situation by abusing an innocent victim. It was an act of barbaric, pointless, and worst of all stupid cruelty. It has cost you your tribe’s shaman. The price has been paid.”

I let that soak in for a moment, as the snow was soaking up the blood.

“For my part,” I then continued, “I am responsible for at least some of your troubles, so you shall have what help I can give you. If you choose to join me, to live and fight under my banner, I will guarantee food, shelter, and freedom from those who would oppress you. Already I command every bandit gang on this island, the goblins of Kzidnak in their entirety, and most recently the cat tribe. You will live in my shadow regardless; it seems wiser to enjoy the benefits of my protection than to merely survive, trying to avoid my attention. But that is your decision and you must make it freely; I want no one serving me against their will. Regardless of what you choose, I will help you without demanding recompense. We can share some food, though this is a lean winter for us all. More importantly, I will heal any sick and injured among you.”

At that, the onlookers reacted, some actively stepping forward before their self-control reasserted itself. Many of their canine faces were suddenly alight with hope.

Yeah…that made sense. After being chased from their burned-out village by plague-carrying zombies and force-marched through the snow with all their civilians, there were probably quite a few in need of healing.

“All the goblins?” For some reason it was that, of all things, which finally made the chief look concerned.

“All the goblins,” Zui confirmed.

He turned his head to the side, so he could see half the tribe arrayed behind him with his peripheral vision. Now, I saw that others had come up behind the warriors making their front one. More faces were peeking out from among the khora. Notably the wolves didn’t seem to be a heavily gendered society; at least, they had both men and women up front with weapons, and both coming up behind carrying burdens and children.

Rath Kadora returned his attention to me. “Very well, Dark Lord. You have demonstrated your power, but we are not a people so easily led. If you would be chief, then take my place.”

He brought up his spear, shifting his stance into a ready position, poised to attack.

The warrior’s expression was resolute, but he had to know this was pointless; he’d seen how easily—and how horribly—I’d dispatched the shaman. In fact, I realized, that was the point. The man was sacrificing himself, on purpose, to deliver his people to the only safety he’d found for them. It was powerfully admirable, in a way. In a different way, oh for fuck’s sake.

“You’re the chief warrior of this tribe,” I said, not raising my own weapon. “I gather that must mean you’ve fought and beaten some impressive foes.”

He bared fangs at me. “This is not the time for flattery, or talk of—”

“Just shut up, man. Tell me, how would you fight a blizzard with that spear of yours?”

He squinted suspiciously, not attacking but not lowering his guard.

“Or a famine?” I prompted, “or plague? What if, just for a random example, you were to be burned alive from the inside. How would you fight that, exactly? How would you stand while your bones turn to charcoal, or breathe while your lungs fill with ash? What good is a valiant heart while your blood is boiling in your veins?”

I gave him a moment to ponder that.

“And you presume to test me?” I asked quietly. Softly but audibly, in a stage whisper that echoed across the clearing. “I am not a challenger for your role, Rath Kadora. I will not be chief warrior of your tribe, not least because it better serves my needs to have you keep your rank and guide your people under my authority. I am the will of a goddess made manifest. I am a force of nature. The wildfire, the blizzard, the plague.”

I had shamelessly practiced this, alone in my room: there was a certain quality to the voice which came through when one was casting spells. It wasn’t the magic that did it, directly, but the intensity and concentration poured into evoking that magic verbally. With a little rehearsal, I’d discovered it was very possible to reproduce that intensity without actually casting anything, to imbue my words with a weight they didn’t normally carry.

“I am not something for you to fight.”

The silence loomed over us. I drew out the moment, frankly reveling in it. I lived for moments like this, where I was not merely the center of attention, but commanded absolute stillness from two whole crowds, everyone afraid to even cough lest they miss what I did next.

“If you would go inside out of a blizzard, it doesn’t make you any less a warrior. By the same token, there is neither weakness nor cowardice in choosing to kneel before the Dark Lord.”

Rath Kadora held my eyes, and the moment stretched further. Of course, I saw what he was doing, and were we not in the midst of showtime I’d have nodded approving acknowledgment. This was a man who understood presentation. Strongest warrior or not, he was definitely no mindless brute. I had a feeling we were going to work well together. If, of course, he decided not to make me kill him.

In the end, he chose correctly.

“So be it, Dark Lord. I accept your terms.”

Slowly, the chief warrior sank to one knee, just as Velaven and the cats had done. Spine still straight and head upright, he was able to look at me with pride. Also, I noted, almost exactly at my eye level in this position. Wait, no, still slightly above it. Dude was huge.

Then Velaven stepped forward to stand just behind me and to my left, raising her own voice to echo through the clearing.

“Knees are a privilege. If you would keep them? Bend them.”

My god, that line was a masterpiece of delivery. It came as no surprise that she could project as well as I; she’s probably been trained in public speaking specifically. So much expression was packed into her short speech, masterfully conveying relentless conviction, but coldly inevitable rather than cruel as such a command could have been. And the last two words, incorporating just a hint of vocal fry to add an animalistic growl. Perfection.

Of course, admiration of her technique was probably not why Zui, Aster, and Nazralind were all giving her the side eye now, and Jessak determinedly looking elsewhere with her ears lowered. Because also yes, as a matter of fact, holy shit, lady.

I knew I shouldn’t have appointed her my spontaneous executioner, that had wasted no time in going right to her head. Clearly we needed to have another talk about not preempting my authority.

But it worked. One by one, then many at a time as the example spread, the wolf tribe knelt in the snow. Heads high and proud, weapons still at hand, but they knelt.

I let them just long enough to sweep my gaze once more across the entire tribe, then nodded.

“Welcome to the Dark Crusade. Now, bring me any who need healing.”