A Tale Wrought In Silver and Blood

Chapter Four

Silver and Blood Chapter Four

Kelan Arenos Vilhem was still a beautiful man in his advanced age. Well, not exactly advanced since despite being in his fifties, Kelan looked like he was in his mid-thirties at most, a trait that was a combination of the extended lifespan of Lycans, at least in comparison to normal humans, and Kelan’s good genes in particular. He was devastatingly handsome in that ‘older man’ kind of way, and while Satrina herself was not much of a fan of facial hair which Lycan society as a whole seemed to be obsessed with ironically enough, her father managed to make it work in a way that didn’t automatically displease her. It lent him an air of quiet dignity even, an air that was magnified as a result of his stylish clothes; an Argentian suit in cobalt blue and silver, and his confident, direct gait which he displayed prominently as he approached the two women.

Areia and Satrina quickly shot up to their feet. Kelan of House Vilhem wasn’t the alpha of their family and the Vilhem associated pack. That honor belonged to her distant figure of a mother, Lucretia Vilhem. Still, one would barely guess that he was a Beta if one were to trust their impressions of him. He spoke and moved with an authority that demanded the attention of all who was in hearing range, like he was doing now.

“You are dismissed, Ardent Areia.” His voice was gruff, with a pleasing echoing lilt to its reverberation. Satrina watched out of the corner of her eyes as Areia’s entire body language seemed to shift in response to the new presence in the room. One could learn a lot about fellow Lycans from reading their body language alone. If her Body-Fu skills were any good (of course they were. The best!), then Satrina’s prevailing theory that Areia was physically attracted to her father was not only viable, but had just been confirmed beyond reasonable doubt. Here was a woman who seemed larger than life not even a moment ago, now acting all demure and subservient. She couldn’t catch a whiff of arousal, but Satrina wasn’t discouraged. Ardents, as Areia had told her once, were specially trained to suppress and control their pheromone extrusions. An Ardent was not exactly expected to stay chaste and unmarried, nor was fraternization with those outside the order officially discouraged in anyway, but it was a commonly held convention that an Ardent’s job would be made easier if they dedicated themselves solely to the worship of the Moon-Mother until such a time that they might come to a decision to search for a mate and start a family with them. Ardents, till then, were taught to abstain from entering into relationships, and when the occasion called for it, to mask their arousal. Satrina wasn’t entirely dependent on her nose in this case, though. Her eyes saw plenty enough; they told a story of their own.

She watched with poorly concealed amusement as Areia shuffled out of the room. When the door closed behind her, Satrina met the eyes of her father, which showed an exasperation that told her that he knew exactly what was going on but was willing to ignore it and let things lie. Satrina opened her big mouth anyways;

“She’s head over heels,” she said, her voice barely masking her impish delight. Her father’s gaze turned hooded, and he sighed through his nose. He turned his exasperated gaze towards her.

“I shall not dignify that with a response, Satrina,” he said as he walked past her and towards the bench behind her, and Satrina followed languidly. She continued;

“Technically, that counted as a response. Also, ignoring something won’t just make it go away, will it?” she asked, her smile almost vicious. Her father hummed and gave her a rebuking look. He didn’t like her bringing unnecessary attention to the situation with Areia, but this was her father, so Satrina didn’t particularly care at the moment.

“For both our sakes, her feelings will have to go unrequited.” He said, with a subtle humor underlying his tone. Satrina knew what he was talking about, of course. His wife, her mother, was an alpha werewolf. She was probably aware of Areia’s infatuation herself; she was too shrewd to miss something like that. She acted oblivious though, or at least she thought it best not to say anything about it if it wasn’t needed. Should things develop beyond an innocent infatuation however, Areia’s health and continued wellbeing would quite literally be placed in danger of just… snuffing out. Lucretia was ruthless like that. Kelan himself was decidedly loyal to her, partly out of fear of what Lucretia was capable of doing should she be angered enough, and partly because he really, genuinely loved her monster of a mother. It made for an interesting dynamic between the both of them, to have such a curious mix of love and fearespect defining their relationship and interactions.

“Sadly.” Satrina said blithely. Things faded into silence between them, a silence that was not uncomfortable. Things were never uncomfortable between the both of them; Kelan was already a Lycan of few words in the first place, with most of his potential effusiveness of expression being reserved and used up for the sheer intensity he exuded when interacting with others. He might not say much, nor did he roar and bellow his opinions out loud into a barely caring peanut gallery, but when he did speak, his intensity and carefully thought out words often still managed to compel others to take a seat and listen for a change.

Kelan gestured to the bench, and they both took a seat, with Satrina following him somewhat warily while watching her father’s expression. Her father looked like he wanted to say something, something that he wasn’t sure Satrina would like. She could read his hesitance in his eyes.

“Satrina,” he began. “I’m sure you’re aware of your mother’s impending journey to the capital.”

Satrina, confused, replied; “Of course, father. I’ll be going there too, won’t I?”

The headquarters of the Silver Theocracy was located in Lumina, the capital of Argentia, as all good headquarters should be. It was also the location of the Argent Throne after all. She had known that her mother planned to undertake a journey to the capital for months now, for some political business that Satrina was largely unaware of beyond the well-known fact that a lot of other houses and their representatives were going to attend. Satrina had never attempted to keep abreast of the political climate of the nation; it was not her prerogative, and she found politics to be a terribly boring state of affair in the first place.

“Yes, you’ll be going there. What you don’t know, however, is that you won’t be going there to enter the Theocracy, at least not at first.”

Satrina blinked in confusion.

“I’m sorry?” she said, her voice somewhat faint. Were… were her parents changing their mind about Satrina joining the Theocracy? Wait, did this have something to do with whatever her mother planned to attend to in the capital?

Her father, seemingly reading the question and bewilderment in her face, forged on.

“The Argent King has decided that his heir has dallied enough. For the entirety of next week, a special week-long event will be held, known as the Selection. Every House with a Moon-Touched Luna of the appropriate age range is to bring with them their…candidates, I suppose you could say.”

Satrina blinked. Was…was she hearing things, or did it sound like she would be put forth as a candidate for the future queenship of Argentia instead of being inducted into to the Theocracy as an Ardent in training?

“Essentially, yes.” Her father said, and Satrina realized that she had spoken out loud.

“But I don’t understand,” she cried, surging up to her feet and looking down at her father, whose expression had shuttered. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“You’re being informed now, daughter.”

“But…”

“Besides, your mother just recently made the decision in consideration for your poignant protests against joining the Theocracy. If you don’t accept this, what recourse would you expect her to turn to?”

“How about the recourse that lets me choose whatever the hell I want to do with my life!?” she yelled vehemently. Her father simply sighed and stood up to leave.

“The decision has already been made, Satrina. There is nothing you can do about it. Besides, there’s no guarantee you’ll be one chosen to wed him. It’s called a Selection for a reason.”