Chapter 47: Traditions and Perseverance

With hatred flashing across his face, Xi’er spoke, “Not long ago, a group of vampires arrived at Count Statler’s underground castle, and sometime afterward a faction of them occupied Green Summit Mountain, and we know not what schemes they plot. For four centuries that mountain has been sacred ground to us, the Fangtooth Tribe, where ancestors of each generation were laid to rest. Yet under Count Statler’s command, we Wolves of the Fangtooth cannot set foot in our rightful sacred land!”

After taking a moment to settle his anger, Xi’er continued, “When I returned home, still filled with bitterness, I secretly climbed Green Summit Mountain intending to spy on whatever vile affairs those blood-sucking fiends enacted on my forebearers’ hallowed grounds. I succeeded in concealing myself and reached the mountain’s peak, where I overheard many secrets in hushed conversations between the creatures. Vampiric arrogance left their tongues loose and careless—I discovered much from eavesdropping unseen. Unfortunately near my exit, a misstep betrayed my position, which earned me a merciless trail of pursuit here.”

As Xi’er paused at this point, labored breaths emerged. His wound had worsened—corrupted by vampiric blood essence that now eroded at his capacity for self-healing.

QN quickly observed the injury and inquired, “Would you have me treat your wounds?”

Xi’er recoiled instinctively then shook his head, muttering hoarsely, “I…require something to feed on.”

With a brief nod Qian Ye tossed several handfuls of dried meat to the wounded youth—the rations he’d saved for an entire week! Then, hesitating only slightly, QN followed with another blood crystal.

The boy devoured everything with savage intensity, finishing nearly all of the dried food in just a matter of moments. Holding the crystal, for a moment’s consideration, he gulped that down whole too. Afterward a visible surge of dark energy rolled violently across his mangled and gaping wound down his back. Moments more, and the torn tissue and muscle gradually began to knit tight once again.

To nightkind beings like himself, blood crystal operated very similar in effect to those blacks gems treasured so dearly across humans. Indeed the latter helped human power-wielders greatly, but the former proved especially potent upon bloodline creatures. Even so, the boy’s powerful self-healing capabilities—Q was quietly envying this trait somewhat.

As was often recognized, the creatures of Night truly held favor from fate itself; born with numerous mighty innate gift—gifts humans could only struggle lifelong through practice of esoteric arts, or by collecting potent substances to ever catch up.

“What secret compelled such desperate blood-hunt from your back along that trail?” QN questioned now, clearly interested.

Meeting his eyes guardedly, the boy replied—his speech deliberate yet determined: “No. There exists one rule—I speak nothing to anyone but one bound to The Highpeak Throne! Only to them alone!”

That got a soft smile forming QNs reply, “Without my aid just now, wouldn’t you have perished long before whisper even once to any throne? Also from what you told previously, this so-called ‘holy prince’ of Count Statler’s seems set upon movement as I speak. Are you absolutely determined? For even so, keeping it hidden may very will result delay or cost a greater scheme.”

Yet again only a shake of the youth’s head was received. “This secret belongs solely to The Highpeak Throne!”

Qian Ye’s brow wrinkled slightly at this refusal. Though he tried coaxing and convincing, nothing changed the stubborn pattern—time and repetition never budged those two sentences an inch:

“Only belongs The Highpeak Throne!!”

Indeed most Wargs possessed a degree of such obstinacy, utterly unrelenting—sometimes even dangerously naïve! That stubbornness earned them reputations as superior troops best in unthinking battlefield ferocity and loyalty under fire; however it also hindered leadership, and rendered them unfit to govern or administer dominion.

Only outliers (like William, for instance) displayed differing personalities among Wargs.

For now—murderously extracting this ‘secret’ from this Warg lad was clearly a dead-end venture regardless how one proceeded. In contrast, QN didn’t care all too much for such secrets anyway. It is common among vampires and other nightkin for deception, backstabbing, schemes hidden layers deep behind more schemes—even something appearing blacker and darker still…could easily be nonsense that holds no importance at all to an outsider.

As expected Q showed no intentions further to pressure the lad. He spoke neutrally, “You’re under no need say whatever burdens yourself; my helping you was simply from own volition anyway.”

For moments there silence passed—then Xi’ers gaze glimmered suddenly, looking back up at NQ as the younger male added, “Yet—I may speak upon matters concerning Count Statler.”

QN reacted with some surprise himself, “You expect information regarding such a figure, might interest me so directly?”

“You appeared capable—thus clearly no mere hunter or low-tier wanderer in these backwater wilds; such an outsider appearing alone here, far from civilization, yet choosing so obscure locale—it makes one ponder why? If not for matters relating Count Statler…then who could command such presence within hundreds kilometer? Besides his Countship’s figure, I fail discerning any local Sublords holding sufficient worth in your eyes for a journey here.”

That actually sparked a mild smile upon Q’s face again—for this wolf cub’s insight actually surpassed expectation: Though his usual thick skulled kind, yet this youth carried surprising intelligence and intuition. It even increased slight respect Q held inwardly for him all the more.

Then appearing in mid-hand another two flasks of potent alcohol, NQ lob a single one toward young Warwolf. He said in relaxed voice, “If you’ve thoughts to share…this is all yours—for however long our respite lasts!”

Drinking—indeed was among favorite traits most night-kin species shared. So was Xi’ers. Yet glancing around briefly amongst remains corpses of vampire corpses scattered across the vicinity, hesitated before he queried carefully, “Here, in place still potentially unsafe then? You reckon none other of those vampire kin could catch trails and pursue us further yet—this open and exposed clearing?”

That Q answered carelessly, without blinking an eye.

“If only they aren’t the Count himself…such lesser lords would be no threat to me.”

At that QN exuberated calm air—yet with the truth not a single lie either! Upon his he actually harbored two high-rank hand-fabricated bullets, and no less than three silver infused alchemic shells, crafted personally inside the Song Clan Vault armory. Added on his in-born mastery over the bloodline suppression abilities; plus the dual benefit gained simultaneously from Bloom Blossom and Primal wings—a combined advantage none could match. So indeed even two, three low ranking nobles meant little challenge now.

The composed confidence of QN stirred a spark—residing in the Warg lad’s still-raw spirit and vigor! Inclinerd suddenly, he sought upon a convenient nearby boulder and spoke with determination anew, “Thus to say…!”

Statler, it should be understood, acted a Spiderborn noble—a lowest-tiered noble within darkkin hierarchy who yet managed governance here locally. As far Spiderborn species reckoned age—Statler’s days, by species’ standard—approached ending. Their kind experienced unusual senescence process; when death drew near—their former peak powers would instead deteriorate and diminish, rather than escalate. At this twilight phase, elders should’ve arranged succession—seek worthy younger successors to pass along ancestral legacy and fiefs.

Nightkind’s races, though immortal-living compared with humanity, all practiced the rule “the Stronger, The Ruler”—thus those near dying end mostly handed over authority to promising heirs—remaining either in quiet peaceful passivity…or descending through slumber into eternal dreams prolonging those final moments.

Yet for most other than vampires however—true prolonged hibernative suspension required either an aristocratic title (akin Duke level and above was generally accepted requirement)—plus special mystic formula, consuming great amounts vital reagents.

The Count, by contrast, lacked both conditions—except in pursuit obtaining essence or vital spirits directly from beings stronger within bloodline ranks—his last path available if survival must endure in this world.

What young Warwolf recounted indicated how Count refused passively accept approaching fate. Instead he busively entwined himself within higher land intrigues—hatching schemes to satisfy some Great Noble above him who, once sufficiently impressed, might grace him several sacred droplets of true upper bloodline essence.

Such essence possessed many wondrous effects—activating hidden potential in young kin’s blood, reversing deathbed ailments, or—in the most immediate benefit—for Statler himself, to prolong his lifespan!

Thus the vamp Count’s methods turned increasingly depraved and merciless, tightening his iron control over all regional resources. Pressured by his own fear of dying, he had exploited vassal kingdoms and tribal subjects alike beyond reason—willing even mass violence against any opposition rising against his dictates!

Here within this territory, wolfkin were weaklings and outcast. Once upon ages past, Green-Spiked Mountains had rested peacefully as sacred Fangteeth land, where their ancestors’ spirits still slummbered…until this vampire stole their hallowed grounds away. Many similar tribal cases existed. Where even wolf-like peoples—suffered so cruelly?—the small, weak folk outside the famed Four Nightkind Races fared even worse, subjected always to mass hunts and banishments.

Effectively this land already stood upon a razor’s ledge: unstable as an approaching sandstorm.

NQ hadn’t imagined receiving such fortunously dire intelligence. Originally he had selected this location specifically because no significant strong heir existed among Counts’ ranks, reducing his projected resistance for claiming territory. Now the revelation added that even its sole current ruler stood nearly at breaking-point with madness—the very idea of which further simplified the conflict’s scope dramatically.

Suddenly drawing a totem of beast bones worn around Xi’ers neck, Wolfchild lifted it outward toward Q, declaring solemnly:

“I owe you my life. This charm stands binding my Oath-Piece; whatever your call or need—I will answer. Even death’s field in distant war won’t break such vow. Take this token as mark of my solemn Oath.”

QNs lips curved with sudden smile. “And if I sought Statler expelled…should I replace him… would you fight on *my* side? For example—if I were establish safe zone where your clans might dwell peacefully?”

Silent deliberated. The pact idea between human and beastman still held rarity in deep eternal night’s domain—even the Upper Lands harbored gray zones where both coexisted, however rare these be. The thought—however still novel—for Warg-child mind. Unlikely he would’ve dreamed such alliance, but now faced with the situation—hesitation clearly evident on face.

Yet NQ displayed patience. He waited, observing.

Finally sweeping eyes across the corpses beneath him, Xi’er’s gaze finally sharpened, resolve setting deeper in place.

“So long…as you keep faith—vow return sacred mountain freely to us. *Vow to never exterminate* my people—we Wargs of Fangteeth pledge side under your banner!”

“I agree. So pledged.”

Drawing blade across wrist, releasing fresh gushing tide of warm red essence across the charms, blood eagerly absorbed within each bone tooth; the entire totem transformed hue dark red. This—by ancient war-rite stood binding, absolute: the sacred ritual that sealed fate with entire clans standing behind its power—a solemn act requiring entire bloodlines’ sacrifice to honor once taken. From this alone—it was obvious his standing as no minor warrior…for such bold decree determined Fangteeth Tribe’s shared fate entirely on his personal oath.

As offering it fully to now NQ’s own two hands the child spoke again, voice heavy weight of oaths,

“Not for trust in *you*, understand— but my belief stands instead placed within The Highpeaks Throne and Lord Williamson himself. However understand thus clearly—if I perceive you’ve betrayed Fangteeth; violated the vow—no matter how far the horizon may be, whatever centuries may come… I shall hunt you endlessly until you *do* perish at my hand.”

Now NQ broke full grin.

“You do honestly believe yourself—truly capable?”

The younger boy hesitated at this point, the confident glare softening under this superior presence’s scrutiny, visibly shaken in the immediate aftermath of QNs casual remark.

The reality lay between them—unevenly skewed. He, though full spirited young pup, yet had years of harsh discipline before overtaking even NQ’s present capabilities today. Whereas even judged against humanity’s own standard—this human opponent barely touched his twenties. The years ahead might stretch for many more; who’s to say where NQ’s growth path yet soared?

And so finally after brief silence Xi’er declared again, resolute.

“If not slay you, then will I keep fighting—to last dying breath if necessary.”

A soft sighed NQ, “For Williams sake I’ll just say that, often…extreme courage borders upon foolish recklessness.”

“But—Wolfin’s traditions—shall stand,” answered fiercely and without surrender.

After a brief interval his energy—and night-born essence, had restored sufficiently.

Then this hard headed Warg-lad—stood stubborn, intent on departing upon his own pace.

As QN proceeded methodically collecting and scavenger the valuable gear left behind by vanquished foes—including the entire armories and weapons Dura’s subordinates—carried upon their lifeless corpses; however even that was mediocre equipment-wise—nothing of real note or true power that N would’ve sought himself.

But—within Q’s network, Song Cailing’s trading route and Hulao’s ‘other’ shadow market channel—allowed even second quality gear and items such as these vampiric armors to transform effectively into cold valuable barter units—in other currency forms as necessary, or converted into actual golds and resources in any black market trading nexus across the border territories.

Yet now another thought brewed in Q after having listening to all related concerning Count’s recent atrocities—his mind now stirred slight interest in Xi’ers ‘so-called forbidden intelligence he still withheld’.

While he didn’t learn anything concrete—he already had one significant tidbit indirectly revealed to him: Green Summit Mountain. Where ever the vampires went after Statler, and whatever plans their whispers carried—there could be more lingering.

The bloodlines still must wait for Durask Vamp Lord’s reports back—and as long as they remained unaware of their comrade slain in ambush—they could be intercepted if QN acted expediently. From Xi’ers’ earlier information—among this vampire group, no Count was present: making reconnaissance all the more appetizing and feasible!

Spreading open terrain charts, identifying directional bearings accurately—he launched full sprint, heading for known vicinity housing tribal domain of the ‘Fangteeth clan’ in his path forward.