Lupus Diabolus

Rhynsa's Mission

            Rhynsa sighed as he looked at the two sleeping hellhound princes. Their expressions were so content and peaceful, as if they gave up thinking of the bad things that happened to them. They needed it, especially since their help would be greatly appreciated in turning the tides of the coming war against the Incursion.

            “(Good night, sweet princes),” he said, quoting and slightly modifying the words of a Tragorian play he once read to learn Tragorian. The context was, of course, different, since that line was directed to a dying prince on his friend’s arms after exacting his revenge. Rhynsa liked how the play ended, considering how everyone was dead and the only ones who were not happened to be outsiders. Most of the characters were part of a royal family.

            Somehow, Rhynsa felt it paralleled what he knew about the Schelkz family, albeit in a smaller scale and certainly no backstabbing. His case, however, was different. The fact that his 20-years vendetta was real made him relate with the main character of the play, prince Hansa of Dusdolf.

            As he walked away, a hellhound with gray fur approached him. He smiled as he knew who that hellhound was. Like Ifrit, he lost a horn, but he got it from a fight that he won. His eyes were bright yellow and he looked like a surface world wolfhound dog. He was wearing a pants and shirt with suspenders over it, along with no footwear given his paws, only footwraps.

            “(Hey),” he said. “(How’s he?)”

            “(Sleeping peacefully),” said Rhynsa. “(Accompanied by someone I know. Not exactly a friend, but I know who he is).”

            “(Yeah. I read the reports. I’m surprised that a Schelkz is not a selfish prick like his father. Then again, the reports told me that the other Schelkz also acted contrary to their predecessors).”

            “(About him…did you find him?)”

            “(That’s not for me to tell. Anarim is responsible for it. You and I are responsible for the two princes in there, Rhynsa Vantwork).”

            “(Well, you see, I wasn’t expecting Schelkz to be the bonus. And besides, don’t think about it, Anenka).”

            “(I haven’t said anything).”

            “(But I know what you’re thinking. I don’t like traveling with others, especially if that hound happens to be a Schelkz).”

            “(Well, you don’t seem to mind traveling with Albert Schafner. I thought you and that Barghest butted heads many times before?)”

            “(Look. Why don’t we talk about something more important? What’s the situation down in Tragoria?)”

            Anenka nodded and beckoned Rhynsa to walk with him. The grey hellhound was older than Rhynsa by three decades, possibly even the same age with Anarim Winsel, Eshdar Winsel’s grandfather. Even so, Anenka had a physique of a fighter on top of his game, not to mention being 6 foot tall. For those who did not know him, he would look very intimidating, but compared to Rhynsa, it was nothing. A Fuzandre among hellhounds were apparently more intimidating than a ripped old hellhound.

            But his intimidating appearance did not seem to work for some people. Children, in particular, did not seem to see his face as weird or scary. Someone he knew even called him cute, which caused the Fuzandre to be slightly taken aback by it. Not that he minded being called cute. He just wasn’t expecting it to come from a Lycan.

            But ever since the loss of Ifrit, the Fuzandre had been in close correspondence with the efforts in fighting against the Incursion. Ever since the Incursion started, they gained more allies, some of which were former anti-royals who were convinced that the royals were not at fault. Most of the time, they were convinced after they realized they were just being used by the circle demons, but a small percentage of them were turncoats. Rhynsa warned the council that these turncoats must be kept in close supervision, knowing their capability and potential risk as spies.

            The rest, who supported the Incursion, kept helping the demons taking over the surface world. Their persistence caused an unfortunate turn of events which ended with the loss of Tragoria Region. Adaline and Dusdolf were protected by the efforts of the hellhounds and the surface dwellers who finally realized the danger, working closely with the Demon Hunters of Dusdolf. Even then, the demons were cunning, as the Demon Hunters were preoccupied with smaller skirmishes that kept them from truly focusing on Tragoria.

            Rhynsa’s role in all this was to find more allies and even hellhounds of interests such as former royals in hiding. But the last job he took, which involved rescuing a former Jackal Prince, was intended to be a breather. The surprise that Ifrit Schelkz was not only alive, but also rescuing Anubis Caropus, became the topic of discussion among the council.

            The Fuzandre did not like it, but he was the only one available to vouch for Ifrit’s reliability. The council, as he joined its discussion with Anenka, were debating whether Ifrit was more important working closely with the council or be allowed to travel to the frontline, knowing the ruthless reputation of the Schelkz family. Rhynsa did not like all their decisions, so instead, he supported the one he refused just minutes ago: letting Ifrit travel with Rhynsa and possibly reunite with Albert Schafner and his crew.

            “(Just to be clear, this is not my idea),” said Rhynsa as he turned his gaze towards Anenka. “(I work better alone, as you all can see).”

            “(Fuzandres aren’t exactly solitary people, Rhynsa Vantwork),” said another hellhound.

            “(Well, I do, especially since I don’t trust hellhounds after being stabbed in the back. Ironically, the son of that hellhound happens to be the only one I can trust right now. And besides, the brand on my back ensured that no Fuzandre will come to the surface to help).”

            “(So, the bats are not an option),” said another, a Jackal, with a sigh.

            “(That is not important),” said Anenka. “(We are fighting a war on the surface. Our priority is to find more surface allies, not rely on those fighting in the Underworld. They know what they’re doing, and so are we. Arhyn?)”

            A hellhound with brown fur and white stripes came forward and said, “(My agents are working with the guards of Adaline, but the remnants of Tragoria are still reluctant).”

            “(Because we’re dogs?)”

            “(Because they blamed us ‘horned dogs’ for the fall of Tragoria. They already don’t like the other regions for being so open with Lycans, so they certainly won’t like hellhounds to start dictating their lives. Let’s just call it bruised human ego).”

            “(Not our problem. If they don’t want help, then we don’t help),” said a female hound coldly. “(We’ll focus our efforts for those who are willing, and if they are still disruptive, we’ll show them the hellhound way of doing things).”

            “(Won’t that fracture our relations with the humans?)”

            “(Tragorian humans, Arhyn. Not as important as they thought they’d be).”

            Rhynsa grunted in amusement by that remark. Mizarka, the female hellhound, was cold and logical, and clearly did not like problems caused by a simple ego. If she wasn’t so monotone, Rhynsa would just give her a kiss, though she might not like the idea of a bloodsucking Fuzandre ‘kissing’ her.

            “(What is the news on Anarim Winsel?)” asked Anenka after a discussion among themselves.

            “(Working closely with Albert Schafner while preparing the hellhounds of Summinat for battle. He suggested we manufacture Schafner’s cleansing bullets to fight against the demons, though without proper demon hunter training, these bullets are not as effective as his).”

            “(And mine),” said Rhynsa. “(Well, his bullets are much better, of course).

            “(Right. The problem is, the demon hunters think his methods are too sloppy and too radical, not to mention a PR disaster for the Hunters).”

            “(We’re at war and they’re worried about public relations?)” asked the Jackal in disbelief.

            “(It’s the only way to maintain support from the Dusdolfian public. Otherwise, the Demon Hunters would be seen as kooks and even con artists. Despite the danger, not many surface dwellers knew that demons even existed. Some even say it’s a propaganda tool for the hunters to maintain influence).”

            “(Not that they’re wrong, either),” said Arhyn. “(So, in conclusion…things aren’t exactly doing well. We really need more allies, and we need a proper forward base. Something strategic enough for both offense and defense).”

            “(And we really need more reliable fighters, like the Royal Hellhounds),” said the Jackal. “(And right now, we only got three young princes, one of which is still going around finding Nergora Schelkz).”

            “(And two of them are resting after a strenuous ordeal. Tell me, Immet. Do you know Anubis Caropus well enough?)” asked Mizarka.

            Immet, the Jackal, said, “(I know he’s our prince).”

            “(Who happens to be blind).”

            “(Blindness is not a weakness, Miza).”

            “(No, it’s not. But it still depends on how to compensate. Is Caropus capable of that).”

            Immet could not say anything about it, but then Anenka stepped forward and said, “(He’ll learn. He just needs to experience it on the field).”

            “(That’s too risky),” said Mizarka.

            “(It doesn’t need to be. Right, Rhynsa?)”

            Rhynsa could only sigh when he realized that he got another Royal to take care of. He always told them that he worked better alone, especially since he was so good at it. Apparently, in just three years, he became involved with others as he moved on from his hatred against the Schelkz family.

            The meeting was stopped for the day as the council deliberated among each other. Anenka went with them as Rhynsa decided to return to the bungalow, thinking that the Royals might have woken up. As he prepared to glide down the tree, Mizarka approached him.

            The hellhound was what Rhynsa could describe as a surface born, though she was raised as a hellhound and not as a surface dweller. Unlike her peers, Mizarka had never been to the Underworld as her parents were refugees from the Uprising. Her cold persona only manifested when she was talking strategy, so when it was a casual setting, she became less cold and more friendly.

            “You don’t sound okay back there,” she said. As Mizarka was a surface-born and grew up with surface dwellers, her first language was Tragorian with Adal accent. She learned Hordo when she asked her parent to teach her. For a native speaker, Mizarka’s Hordo had a distinct accent of a foreigner, which was very rare. Her Tragorian sounded more natural.

            Rhynsa scoffed. “Well, if you happen to be forced to babysit two hellhound princes with issues on their own, you’d act like me.”

            “Except they aren’t actually children. Maybe the right word would be ‘to accompany’.”

            “What you said. Still, I stand corrected. Anubis Caropus is blind, but not as a bat, okay? Bats aren’t blind. That is one impression I don’t agree on.”

            “Point taken,” said Mizarka with a smile on her canine face.

            “About what you said back in the meeting…did you really mean it? You’re not Tragorian, so I don’t see some sort of retribution going on. Or maybe you feel connected somehow. Maybe you feel the racial discrimination is unbearable and use our knowledge of the incursion to ‘strike back against the humans’.”

            “Are you accusing me of a m******e?”

            “Depends on what you think it is. I don’t care, anyway. Just don’t beg for my protection when it all falls apart.”

            “I won’t. We’ll only help them if they ask, not if they demand it. And besides, like hellhounds, not all humans are pricks.”

            Rhynsa, relating to how he ironically became Ifrit’s greatest supporter, said, “Yeah. I know how it is.”

            “And you just need to ask for a blood donation.” Mizarka patted his shoulder, which prompted Rhynsa to let out a smirk. Hellhounds with a certain education would know that Fuzandres were literal blood drinkers. While it wouldn’t kill them if they did not drink blood, it halved their effectiveness, considering how a Fuzandre’s merit as special soldiers were their ability to instill fear by gaze alone. Rhynsa had mitigated it using his own expertise as a blind spot sniper, using his echolocation as part of his sniping technique, though his echolocation differed greatly from a bat’s in a sense that he could catch any sound waves, while a bat used a specific sound wave.

            He tried not to think about it. He wasn’t a scientist trying to learn a Fuzandre’s biological secrets. Still, knowing some of it made it easier for him to explain it, along with keeping some of the facts to himself. For strategic reasons, of course, not to mention fun to see people guessing.

            But, just as Mizarka was a cheery and friendly when not discussing work, she turned cold and logical once she started talking about job, which Rhynsa could see when her expression subtly changed under her pince-nez glasses. For Rhynsa, she was the only hellhound he knew who could look intimidating with a pince-nez. Even better, she wasn’t a fighter, but a strategist.

            “Rhynsa…what is this about Ifrit Schelkz’s appearance?” she asked. “Did you say one of his legs is a cloven hoof?”

            “I tried my best not to tell anyone about it. I got five hours to be sure about it. Schelkz seemed to think I didn’t notice while Anubis is blind, but yeah. I like jokes, but I also know moderation.”

            “Was it somehow grafted onto him? It’s a relatively new surgery procedure that make it possible to save someone’s limb before it rots.”

            “All I know about that procedure is that it’s still impossible to graft a different leg without complications. Unless you’re talking about ‘Richenstein’s Creature.”

            “Does he look like the Creature to you?”

            “I saw him torn to shreds on that bridge. If there is a way to explain how he survived, I’d say the novel. Just replace the weird science aspect with a possible demonic experiment and we got our real-life Creature.”

            “Then I suggest you keep an eye on him. And Anubis Caropus, too.”

            “What’s so important with the Jackal prince, anyway? I mean, aside from his potential. Not that I’d make a point on his disability, but you don’t send a blind Jackal to war. Not only it’s sick, it is also stupid.”

            “You ever heard of the Caropus curse?”

            “What’s that?”

            “I heard the story from Immet. Caropus is the oldest ongoing royal family with a history apparently starting long before all the other major royal families were even formed. The Jackals knew that the Family did not act like royals, but like a normal family of guardians. This is the reason why Jackals were hunted down by anti-royalists due to their strong respect towards their monarch.”

            “And compared with Schelkz, it’s like water and fire.”

            “Schelkz is feared, while Caropus is loved. That’s how different they two could be. Immet also said that only the Caropus family is capable of guarding the gates of hell and prevent the incursion, which evidently failed when they were the first to fall victim to the uprising. Again, Immet claimed that the Jackals had nothing to do with it.”

            “Okay, so, what does it have to do with the curse?”

            “The Caropus curse talks about the long line of monarchs who always have one or two family member with a disability, be it mental or physical. But, the twist is, the curse is the source of their power. Those with disabilities are believed to have powers to communicate with the dead. I know. Too unbelievable, but then…Anubis Caropus is a blind Jackal since birth.”

            “So, you’re saying what that Jackal trying to do is…”

            “To awaken this supposed power. It sounds like a sick joke to me, but Immet wasn’t crazy. If he was, he wouldn’t be the one responsible for finding the Jackals still out there. The info on Anubis was accurate, as it has been proven.”

             Rhynsa sighed. That discussion with Mizarka pulled out a possibility that Ifrit was already compromised by demonic influence due to the experiment to return him to life. It made him even more reluctant to continue doing what he suggested before. Even so, he bet Ifrit wasn’t aware of this and only assumed that by some unknown miracle, he survived.

            Maybe Mizarka was right in asking the Fuzandre to keep an eye on Ifrit. Because, unlike the others who knew Ifrit, Rhynsa was the only one who still felt different towards him, knowing that he was the son of the same hellhound that started everything that was wrong for him. He may had no answer about the message he was told to deliver, but his animosity against the house of Schelkz was still apparent.

            If Ifrit ended up becoming what they feared he would become, the only one who would not hesitate would be Rhynsa. He did not like it, especially knowing that he had a part in causing his demise in the first place, but that first indirect role turned into some sort of responsibility for him.

            He wanted to spare Lilac Rezmirn from knowing that her lover and friend became a demon.