The Alpha's Blind Fate
Chapter 39: Unia And The Ripper

Chapter 39: Unia And The Ripper

MOON

They said in the borders of the GreenLands, two different kinds of men led the Army Without An Alpha.

The first man they said was elegant. Always had his nose buried in one book or the other. Cared less for whatever went around him, and led the war against the rogues with strategy and the strength of the mind. It was for this reason he was nicknamed Unia, meaning a deep sense of knowledge. Unia never made an appearance in battle; like a chess piece, he controlled his army from the shadows.

The second man they said possessed an immaculately pristine face that did much to hide the untethered violence hidden beneath his facade. In battle, he was named the ripper for he liked to rip his enemy’s wolf to pieces until there was nothing left of them. When any wolf who came under his strong jaw managed to shift back, their bodies were so mangled they could only beg for a quicker death.

Between Unia and the ripper, the Arising Rogues didn’t know who they feared the most, and the rumours that the two men could be one man was a far more terrifying thing.

It was the dead of the night when Yaren’s dark brown grey wolf tumbled into the ice forest surrounding the secret camp of the Army Without An Alpha that was located at the Border of Glaciers. Although he didn’t look to be in a hurry, the strides of his wolf wasn’t exactly slow as the never ending ice pikes brushed against his fur.

He wouldn’t deny it; his wolf had certainly missed its natural environment hidden in the ice cold region. His wolf, which was conditioned for extreme coldness, hated the forestry and greenness of the GreenLands. Yaren wondered if it was time to go back home.

It has been six years already. Three years of which they were forced to relocate to the east.

The scouts in wolf form sighted his terrifying wolf with peculiar amber red eyes and shrank back at his sight. Bored, Yaren merely observed his surroundings, noting the moonless sky which he was thankful for.

He growled at the thought of what came with a full moon night; male wolves in rut, and female wolves in heat made for a truly disorderly camp. The gods knew how much lengths they had gone to curb the supposed innate nature.

Before long, his wolf was in front of the biggest tent in the camp. Lumbering in, he saw a mast of black hair buried in a book so thick that the thought of reading it gave him a terrible headache.

He shifted back without care to segue his shift, his shredded clothes falling about him while he grabbed a robe from Daemon’s effect.

"You’re late." Daemon merely said, his face still obscured by the huge book.

"Am I?" Yaren quipped back, strutting to where his brother’s collection of alcohol usually was. He poured himself a handsome amount of silver burn, relishing how the liquid rushed into his head.

"Yes, about five hours late."

Yaren shot his brother a glare of annoyance. Daemon could be picky like a girl most times even though the gods knew the man hardly looked like one.

Finally, Daemon unglued his face from the book, meeting Yaren’s glare with an unconcerned stare of his own. Daemon’s neck long hair easily obscured parts of his ominous dark eyes at the act. Seeing that Yaren was not ready to respond to him, he asked.

"How was your journey?"

"Uneventful." Yaren grunted, plopping on a seat across Daemon. He took a huge gulp of his drink and Daemon followed the act with his eyes.

"If you’re going to steal my drink, at least have the courtesy to pour myself some."

Yaren stood automatically, bringing an extra glass together with the bottle of alcohol. He poured Daemon, who only stared at him impassively, some of the silver burn.

"I can’t deal with a silent Yaren." Daemon said as he brought the drink to his lips while only taking a sip.

Yaren, who had been bottling up his true emotions up until that moment in a vain attempt to imitate his brother’s calmness, let out a strewn of curses.

"You said to eliminate Lykom Lupus." Yaren finally said in an accusatory tone.

"So?"

Seeing how incorrigibly nonchalant Daemon was being, Yaren merely heaved a sigh. His brother being like that wasn’t new.

"I understand that her life belongs to you brother. But I wasn’t of the mind that involves you protecting her life too."

Daemon merely raised an eyebrow at him, relishing at how calm his younger brother was. The man had come a long way, and while he was still the mad wolf, some semblance of sanity lurked beneath those grey eyes of his.

"Yaren, how could we not protect the Great Seer? I mean back at the camp in the GreenLands many praise her name, no? The powerful woman who avoided a great famine."

Yaren scowled on hearing those words. While it was no longer too hard to know when Daemon was being serious or not, it didn’t mean he didn’t struggle to understand his older brother. "Did you get any message from the Houses?" He asked, remembering one of the things that had delayed his stay at the capital.

"Am I supposed to receive any message you don’t already have?" Daemon asked carelessly, his attention back to his book. Yaren decided to steal a glance at the title and it read, ’Superstition, Way, And Might: Balancing The Hierarchy of the Wolf.’

Typical Daemon; man was so bored he would read anything just to flex time.

"Posters are all over Borle." Yaren started hesitantly, "they say you’re the reincarnation of the Great Beast Wolf. Many storytellers now tell the tale all over the capital."

Flipping to another page, Daemon spoke impassively. "And why should I ever concern myself with such deranged happenings? It will not be the first time I am called something other than my name. The banished prince, the cursed prince, the traitor, the reincarnation of the Great Beast Wolf... they all mean the same thing no?"

Yaren heaved a sigh. He knew that Daemon was aware that the situation was more dire than how he put it, but in true Daemon’s fashion, the man could hardly pretend to care.

"Daemon, the rumours this time seem intentional."

Daemon stopped halfway at flipping to another page. "Intentional?" He finally flipped the paper, his eyes glued to the words in it.

"I saw the storyteller that told the story first getting paid by a woman. No matter, it seemed to me that someone went to great lengths to paint you in an otherworldly light. And it worked, the whole capital is talking of how the time of the Arctic Wolf is nigh and the Dire Wolf of the dry lands shall take its place."

Daemon flipped the book close abruptly, his impassive face curling into a sneer. "Is that so? Who could be this person who is helping me so dutifully?"

"I could only fathom it’s a guild of some sorts. I asked the House Z’s to send you a report back at the GreenLands, but since you’re here I assume it must have reached you sooner. Why are you here by the way?"

Ignoring his brother’s question, Daemon instead stared hard at the wide cage that housed a dark raven. A letter was still tied on its leg, one that he hadn’t bothered to open.

Yaren followed his line of sight and on seeing the messenger bird, he stood abruptly, walking towards the cage. Untying the letter he read out the three letters that were its only content.

Thralgor Spy Guild.

Nothing was out of place with that information. Ever since the start of the war, information trading had become a sought out trade that many wished to dabble in. Daemon himself had built a network of such trade that was currently one of the greatest in the whole of Vraga.

"Thralgor?" Daemon mused, tasting the ancient language in his lips. As the meaning dawned on him, he scoffed.

"The abandoned one?"

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