His to Tame

Ice pelted the walls of the Inn and the windows clacked, fighting against the gale forces that drove snow sideways hard enough to slice through skin. Wind found its way through every crack, making what would normally be a cozy room, drafty, despite the crackling fire. The candle flames flickered on the desk as the captain wrote out another letter to send ahead with the courier, explaining their further delay. He hoped it would reach the main regiment in time. Yet another winter storm had blown in, trapping the Black Spear Company in place. They had made it to a small village in the northernmost reaches of the Lycantion Kingdom. Over six months they had been away, and the men were exhausted and on edge, ready to return home. Captain Brom hated this rotation. The northern border was a harsh and unforgiving land, and the people even more so. The young Captain would much rather be patrolling the southern route. Where the weather was warmer, the people were pleasant, and there were even a few beaches to enjoy. Not here, where myths of creatures as old as the land felt corporeal. The feeling of being followed or watched never left your senses and made the men of the warm lands jumpy. The people here were used to it, of course, seemingly carved from the mountains they called home. Northmen stood like stoic boulders against bitter weather, unbothered by the cold. But this storm had driven even them inside. The Inn was packed, bringing the northerners into very close proximity with the "warmlander" soldiers, they resented so much. Captain Brom prayed the weather would break before tempers flared. His prayers were not answered. His quill was scratching out his letter, mid-sentence, when he heard shouting coming from the tavern downstairs, followed shortly by a loud crash. He rushed from his room and hurried downstairs, to find his First Lieutenant, Camden, squared off with a stone wall of a man. Everyone else had formed a circle around them, clearly divided between the two sides, and ready to jump in if their man should fall. Brom was thankful that it hadn't devolved into a full-scale tavern brawl, yet. The young captain jumped between the two men, despite only coming to the Northman's chin. Brom had seen his fair share of tavern scraps and back alley brawls. He had come from the slum streets of the midlands and grew up tough. He joined the military to get away from that life, and rose quickly through the ranks. He earned the respect of his men, and his commanding officers with a level head, a strong moral code, and a strategic mind. He wasn't afraid to take a hit, but hoped it wouldn't come to that. " A tankard of ale, and a warm meal for all Northmen, on the regiment's coin!" He bellowed out before any more fists could fly. This earned some approving grumbles from the Northmen, and a few back slaps, but the Northman, who was facing off with his man, seemed less than enthusiastic that his brawl was interrupted. Without his compatriots egging him on though, he seemed to simmer. However, within moments the innkeeper was at the Captain's side, with a heavy brow and deep scowl. "And just where is all this food and ale going to come from!? I don't have enough in my larder to feed all of these gluttons." His gravely voice like scraping stone. "We have a provisions' wagon in your stable. I'll send a few men to grab a few things to bolster your stores." That earned him a skeptical but acceptable nod from the Innkeeper, and he hurried off with a hitch in his step, to begin cooking for an army. With that settled, Brom turned to his First Lieutenant with a stern scowl etched into his worn face. "Go wait in my room, we'll discuss this in a minute." The irritation was barely in check. The First Lieutenant gave a quick nod and sharp salute. "Yes, sir, but this is an urgent matter." "Second Lieutenant Kent, take a few men and grab some salted pork, that goose, bag of apples, crate of bread and two... make that three casks of ale from the wagon, and tell the company cook to pitch in with the kitchen." He hoped that would be enough to quell tempers. He knew they'd come up short on their collections for the kingdom, but felt that this was worth it, and hoped the King would understand. One final glance around the room to assess the state of tensions. His men were grouped up on one side of the tavern wearing scowls and throwing disapproving looks at the Northmen, who seemed to occupy the rest of the tavern with little to no worries. He gave his men one last hard look and relayed, "Don't do anything stupid" without a word, then went upstairs to deal with his Lieutenant. As he entered his room, the only one not occupied by three to four other men, bunked up or spread across the floor in bedrolls, with the Lieutenant pacing and wringing his hands. He immediately snapped to attention when Captain Brom entered. "You hold your rank because you're usually pretty level-headed, Lieutenant. Care to explain what that was all about?" "Sir, yes. Some of the men, well they found... something. The men were trying to get answers. The Northerners didn't like the questioning." He seemed anxious and unsure of his words. Like he was choosing each one carefully so as not to sound like a lunatic. ""Something" doesn't really narrow it down Camden" "Yes Sir, I know, it's just... Sir it's some sort of creature." He paused to gauge the Captain's reaction, before fumbling on. "A, creature?" "Sir it almost looks human, but has strange features, and well... Sir, it has a tail. And it's bruised and beaten from head to toe and locked in a cage" Of all the things the Captain had heard of in these wild lands, he was unprepared for what Camden had just told him. Long before even the great, great elders could remember, there were many humanoid creatures that roamed the world. Most of them were long gone. Now only three of them remain. The lycans of course. The wolf people who could shift between human and animal form. They ruled most of the land but were intermingled with humans. Humans were viewed as a lesser race, but accepted among the other races as a key species. And elves, who mostly lived on the very outskirts of society. Preferring the company of their own kind, tucked away in cities of their own making that are nearly indistinguishable from their surrounding fauna. They were rarely seen, but they weren't unheard of. His first Lieutenant would not have been thrown so out of sorts if it had been any of the three races. Captain Brom glanced out the small window and noted that the storm had quieted slightly. He reached for his thick outer layers and regarded his first lieutenant. "Show me." As they left the Inn, the company men got up and followed. The Northmen tracked the movements from under furrowed brows, but seemed content to drink their free ale and wait for their hot meal. The Captain hoped that the storm had lessened enough to encourage some of the locals to start filtering out by the time they got back. The men lead the Captain to a small farm on the edge of town. The company was too large to all fit in the Inn, so some men were staying in a large barn on the farm. But as they neared the barn, the First Lieutenant turned towards a wood shed near the edge of the forest. "The men were out gathering wood when they heard movement and noises coming from the woodshed, Sir." Captain Brom stilled himself to restrain his outward reaction, for the sake of his men. But as he peered in the shed, his breath caught in his throat.