“You are late,” a man with a long face and thin, blond hair told the knights. He was Jerome the hound breeder, as Quionne confirmed to Albino in wind-speak. Three large hounds walked next to him on leashes, scratching the floor. “My hounds grew restless after I promised them a good bitch to f***. What happened? You look terrible.”
“The mountains took their toll,” Sir Meriwether said. He pointed at Fierawr, smiling triumphantly. “There are the bitch and her owner! He needs to be taught a lesson in humility! He has a letter with our order’s deeds addressed to the king. He should have a big butterfly creature, though it can’t get in here to deliver the notice! We have him cornered now! The cawdelli can serve as our feast, and the girl can serve as our dessert!”
“I see. A rebel who wants to overthrow Verquuva with his bitch and her pups. How frightening. Why isn’t she in her cage? No, don’t answer. I don’t care. Do what you must with the girl and cattle. Hounds! There is your bitch. Go and claim her!”
Albino switched to the language of the Albiverse. “If they try to force themselves on you, Fierawr, kill them.”
“Rawr,” Fierawr said, followed by a menacing roar.
The three hounds whimpered, their tails between their legs. The hound breeder blinked at his hounds, surprised that they would retreat after being deprived of contact with females for two months. Their lust usually exploded if you teased them with other pairs of hounds having sex right before their eyes.
“You must be the hound breeder,” Albino said, ignoring the knights. “I was told your good judgment is foundational to anyone who wishes to keep a Howler at home in Verquuva.”
The hound breeder raised a brow and looked at the knights, standing still in the face of the divinity in Albino’s albiversal language. The hound breeder felt a similar urge to stay silent and unmoving, but something else excited him. Why would he step down now? “You have heard correctly, dear citizen. Let it be said, however, that no one has ever managed to satisfy my harsh judgment in this matter. Caring for a Howler is hard work if they have no alpha to breed them.”
“I cannot offer a hound, but she is being bred.” Albino pulled the mantle from Fierawr’s shoulder, freeing the bite mark from its cloth-made confinement.
For a brief moment, the hound breeder’s face fell. He quickly masked it, clapping his hand with an exaggerated smile. “How quaint. I wouldn’t have thought to meet a fellow animal enthusiast today. Knights, how dare you treat a fellow man of proper manners in such an uncivilized fashion! Know some shame! Come with me. I will show you where I keep our prized hounds.”
“We will go as well!” Brenda said, jumping from Cormali.
Hound breeder Jerome barely managed to mask his irritation. “You are our guest. Please wait in your room while your companions and I share stories of hounds and Howlers.”
“He has some nerve to act innocent after how he introduced himself,” Quionne complained to Albino in wind-speak.
“Do not let them see your true form,” Albino instructed. “The time has come to prove your worth to our insolent little youngling, my love.”
“I love you, my Master! I will not disappoint you!”
“Allow her to come with us,” Albino pleaded. “She knows what Fierawr and I do at night. In fact, Brenda shares some of my enthusiasm on the subject. I believe this experience will be fruitful for us all.”
“…Is that so?” The hound breeder had a twitch in his smile. He nodded briefly at Sir Meriwether and led Albino’s group further into the fort. “I’m sure we can find decent accommodations for your cawdelli in the stables. The hounds only bite when hungry.”
“Then they are most certainly hungry,” Quionne grumbled.
“Easy, girl,” Albino told her. He wind-spoke to Brenda next. “Quionne will disappear from your hairband soon. Act like you lost your ornament. That should fool them.”
Brenda was shocked. He wanted her, the weakest and most vulnerable member of their group, to give up the protection of their mightiest and most reliable combatant? She couldn’t answer or complain directly since she didn’t speak wind-speak. “Can Cormali stay with me? I fear I cannot sleep without her.”
Jerome clicked his tongue. “The stables are the home of animals. We train our hounds well, but they are born from wolves. When their instincts flare up, you don’t want to share their cabins.”
“But you ask Cormali to do the same?”
“She is a cawdelli. Your cattle made this long trek, so don’t act like she can’t defend herself. Those mountains are littered with beasts and monsters, are they not?”
Brenda looked to Albino, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Save me,’ they screamed. “Just cling to Cormali’s leash. We both know Fierawr and I are their main objective. Quionne will not leave your side, anyway. We do not want them to know about our secret agent, secret weapon, and secret family member, alright?”
With no other choice, Brenda nodded. The hound breeder led them to the stables, a procession of knights escorting their little group. Jerome explained all sorts of things about the architecture and history of this fort, but Brenda didn’t listen. She huddled to Albino’s side and whispered, “Promise you’ll stay safe?”
“You know I cannot promise that,” Albino whispered back. “That is the point. I will be harmed instead of you. Quionne will keep you safe.”
Brenda’s hand shot to her hairband, finding the Albi-Onna gone. “Sh-should I… now?”
“…That might be for the best. We are close.”
Brenda straightened her back and coughed. What followed was the worst acting performance the kingdom had ever seen. “I seem to have lost my butterfly ornament! I want to look for it.”
Jerome waved her off, his mind fully occupied with Albino and the Howler. “Fine. Take a few knights with you. They will lead you to your room afterward. The rest, come with us! We are here! Down this corridor is the hound paradise of Verquuva!”
Brenda didn’t like having to leave Albino. Quionne wind-spoke with her from the ceiling, disguised as an elemental (invisible to a human’s eyes). Brenda’s knight escorts didn’t dare step close with the groaning cawdelli in their way. Quionne also dismantled their swords, just in case.
After Jerome led Albino and Fierawr into the hound shelter, Albino wind-spoke to his mate. “If they touch you, fight back. Do not interfere when they hurt me. Quionne has some preparations to do, and until then, we let them think things are going their way.”
“Rawr!” she said, blissfully unaware of what would come to be.
The hound breeder snapped his fingers. In a flash, the knights were on Albino, dragging him to a chair at the end of the corridor. Fierawr was confused at this, but her mate’s orders stopped her from lashing out. She wanted and needed to believe Albino knew what he was doing.
“We get brats like you sometimes,” Jerome explained. The hound breeder tied and chained Albino to his seat until he could barely move a muscle. “Brats who believe that breeding a Howler makes you special and exempt from our laws. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should have known better. If you apologize now, your punishment might be lessened.”
“I know a liar when I see one. You planned on doing this since you saw the bite I left on her. Do not claim to follow the law when you tie up a genuine animal (by the law) owner for your sick desires.”
“Ah, you saw through me! No matter. Do you want to take the honors, Sir Meriwether?”
“With pleasure.” The knight captain chose a pincher from the rack and placed it around one of Albino’s fingers. “Any last words?”
“What do you mean with last words? A broken finger will not kill me. Are you retarded?”
“You asked for it!” The captain pushed down, cracking the bones in Albino’s finger. He expected screams, tears, and pain, but Albino sighed, looking disappointed. “You little squirt!”
What followed was a thorough… interrogation. The knight captain broke every bone in Albino’s left hand, growing increasingly annoyed with the lack of reaction on Albino’s part. Jerome watched the proceedings, keeping a safe distance from Fierawr. He had tried to approach her with some of his hounds, but she easily scared them off, no matter how brainlessly horny they should have been. Even the bulkiest and strongest hounds, bred to give off irresistible hormones that sent any bitch into heat, only made her look disgusted.
Jerome cackled under his breath. He couldn’t help it. Had he ever seen a specimen this incredible? What would her children with his best hounds look like? He wanted to know. “Can you hurry up and make him scream? The bitch won’t fall if you don’t.”
“I’m trying, but he’s a tough bug to squash.”
“No wonder,” Albino said. “You rush in for the kill without any foreplay. I can bear with it because you suck at this, Sir Meriwether.”
“F*** off.” The knight captain pushed Albino’s face, drawing blood. “Your bitch belongs to us. Your girlfriend belongs to us. Your cattle belongs to us. Even you belong to us.”
“Can you stop spouting the same damn nonsense all the time? It is repetitive and boring to listen to. Why not insult my mother or go for a low blow instead of this same old b*******-“
Another punch. “Shut up.”
Sir Meriwether tried his hardest. Cutting him open didn’t work, so he went for Albino’s right arm. “This is your strong arm. You are about to sacrifice your future for that bitch. She is an animal! Useless! Worthless! Beneath us! Let her be with her own kind.”
“I feel obligated to warn you that this is fruitless. It does not look like you will listen, though.” Sir Meriwether didn’t listen. Albino’s right arm was indestructible. The knight couldn’t wound it, though not for a lack of trying. “One definition of insanity describes endlessly repeating the same thing, expecting a different result. That goes for the arrogant hound breeder as well. You know Fierawr is too much to handle for you, so you want to break me first. Howlers are loyal creatures. It takes more than a little weakness to break that loyalty. Complete and utter dominance of one male over another. Yes, that is what you seek. Have you accomplished it, Jerome? Are you proud of your sorry excuse of a purpose in life? I have a right to be tested on my worth. You know it. I know it. Lord Marciel knows it. The king knows it.”
“The king isn’t here.”
“Neither is Lord Marciel. Are you that scared of his shadow?”
Jerome shuddered. He was scared of the Voohr. Lord Marciel was the man he served. What else could he do but follow orders? “Enough, Sir Meriwether. We will continue this tomorrow.”
They screwed bolts through Albino’s legs and hands… That is, they tried for his right hand but ultimately gave up. Fierawr growled, hissed, and glared at the men, sending shivers down their spines. Jerome wanted her. She would earn him Lord Marciel’s respect.
In the meantime, Brenda, Cormali, and Quionne waited in their room together. It was a meager accommodation for Lord Marciel’s fort. To Brenda, it was intimidatingly spacious. With Cormali’s help, they had barred the door and the windows, blocking them with the furniture. Quionne had checked for secret entrances, found one, and quickly pushed the heavy bed on the hidden trapdoor.
Quionne wrote letter after letter to the noble houses in this Voohrdom and beyond, inviting them to a hound breeder test that wasn’t supposed to happen. It was written in the law, but that didn’t mean much in this place. People got lax towards the end of a calamity.
“And this is going to protect Albino?” Brenda asked the Albi-Onna. The village girl fiddled with her fingers, pacing the room.
“Albino will protect himself. I am merely assisting his schemes. The residents of this fort will find themselves very sleepy tonight. You could say that their dinner will include some… unwanted substances.” Quionne giggled. “Serves them right, the lousy bastards! While they sleep, I will send out these letters that will force the hound breeder to allow Albino to take the test. If not, Lord Marciel’s reputation would suffer.”
Brenda nodded. If Albino got a fair shot, he could do it. Surely. “But why do you need to leave me to do that? Can’t you do what you did to Sir Meriwether and the other knights on the way here?”
“Thinning the air for a whole castle exceeds my abilities, little girl,” Quionne said, chewing her tongue as she faked the hound breeder’s signature. “I could do it, but with… lethal consequences. I am not as good at control as my dearest Master. Even you and Cormali might be in danger, hence the old-fashioned poison method. Do not fear the knights. Cormali will defend you, even if they wake up early.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“That was not my intention, little girl.” Brenda didn’t have to like it. This was Albino’s plan, and Quionne would do anything to make it succeed. She sneaked out of the room and sprinkled caudaw powder over every food item she could find. Quionne also hit the water supply and wine barrels (except for a small stash she brought back to Brenda).
She only bothered to confirm the main targets. Once all the knights mentioned in Albino’s letter and Jerome, the hound breeder, fell fast asleep, she fluttered to the stables and assumed her humanoid form. The hounds immediately barked at the sudden intruder.
“Know your place,” Albino said, his voice booming through the stable. “I am Albino, true Albion of the Albiverse, and I was blessed by Agathe Phangor, the deity of your world. And that is Quionne, a woman I love. Insult her, and you shall know my wrath.”
Quionne shuddered in joy. Uttering the name of a deity could shatter entire worlds if you weren’t careful, and he had done it for her! The hounds got the message. The suppressed yet potent divinity in Agathe’s name brought them to heel. To their minds, Albino ascended to the position of pack leader. Fierawr was hit particularly hard. She only felt the power in his voice, furthering her love for her mate. He was chained up, but the Howler didn’t care.
“My Master,” Quionne said with a curtsy.
“My little charmer,” Albino said. “Did you succeed?”
“I would have killed myself in shame if I had failed to please you.”
“Quionne-“
“I have not bothered to check for everyone, but the important people are asleep. Hence why I am here.” She freed Albino from his chair and held a torch to his broken hand.
“What are you doing, Quionne? I need to return to my broken state before the breeder returns anyway. Why bother healing me?”
“I would rather break your bones myself. If you have to be in pain, at least let it be caused by me.”
Albino shook his head, smiling despite himself. “There are times when I forget just how unhinged you are.”
“Your faith in this low-” Quionne chuckled and winked at Albino. “I mean, this Albi-Onna is unworthy of such praise.”
“You did that on purpose.”
“I… stuttered.” When Albino was fully healed, Quionne judged her handiwork. “How about using the emergency mode?”
“Even you do not have the experience to save me from the aftermath of emergency mode. I wholeheartedly refuse.”
“…I see.” Quionne reluctantly grasped Albino’s left hand and circulated her albiversal aura through her body marks. “Even though I said what I said, I would rather not hurt you.” She cracked one finger, then another, and another until Albino’s left hand was in as horrible a state as before her treatment. Quionne even drilled his left hand back into the place, much to the horror of Fierawr.
The Howler bore with her mate’s torture because he told her to stand down while he dealt with the enemies. This was different. This was her mate’s alpha! She should not hurt Albino! “RAWR!”
“Stand down, Fierawr!” Albino spoke in the albiversal tongue. “You are smarter than that. You know very well why Quionne has to do this to me right now. I know you do. You tend to take flight and excuse your thoughtlessness with what you were, but I know you are no longer a beast of the forest. Not fully, at least. Do not insult your mate and intelligence with this false anger over nothing!”
It took several days before the first letters arrived, accepting the hound breeder’s invitation. Albino was no closer to breaking, so this news came at the worst time possible. Seething and mad, scratching his balding head, he kicked the door to the stables open and threw an accusatory finger at Albino, his captive. “What have you done?”
Greetings and salutations! You have earned my eternal gratitude for reading this humble mortal’s story. If you enjoyed yourself, I will have done my job well. If not… well, there is always room for improvement.
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