Corrupted blood lord

Count Veyron did not allow them to leave immediately.

Accepting the contract was one thing. Walking blindly into a forest that had already swallowed almost thirty mercenaries was another.

The count dismissed most of his advisors and ordered a map brought into the hall. A servant unrolled it across the long table before his seat, revealing the eastern reaches of Veyron’s territory.

Villages, roads, mines, and hunting trails had been carefully marked in black ink. A wide section of forest east of the river had been circled in red.

"The first attacks occurred here," Veyron said, placing one finger against the map. "Livestock vanished from two farms. Then hunters began disappearing."

His finger moved farther north.

"The mercenaries tracked the creatures toward the old iron mine."

The surviving captain stood across from him, his face tight.

"We never reached the mine."

Veyron looked up.

"You told me you found the den."

"We found tracks leading toward it. The first six attacked before we reached the northern ridge."

"And the others?"

The captain remained silent for a moment.

"They came after we committed to the fight."

Teclos studied the map.

"How?"

The captain glanced at him.

"What?"

"How did thirty werewolves approach without any of you noticing?"

"We were fighting."

"That does not answer the question."

The man’s jaw tightened.

"They came from all sides."

"Were they waiting?"

"I don’t know."

Teclos leaned over the table.

The old iron mine sat near the foot of a mountain, surrounded by thick forest and several narrow valleys. Only two marked roads led toward it.

An easy place to ambush anyone foolish enough to enter.

"How many survived the first attack?" Teclos asked.

"Nineteen."

"And after that?"

"Eleven made it out of the forest. Two died before we reached the road."

The count folded his arms.

"You will guide him back."

The captain’s head snapped toward him.

"My lord—"

"You remember the route."

"I remember watching my men torn apart."

"Then you have reason to ensure it does not happen again."

The captain looked around the hall, perhaps hoping one of the advisors would intervene.

None did.

Veyron turned toward Teclos.

"You will be given supplies from the armory. Oil, rope, healing potions, and whatever maps we possess of the eastern forest."

"I have my own potions."

"Then take more."

Teclos smiled faintly.

The count was either cautious or eager to be rid of him.

Possibly both.

"When do we leave?" the captain asked.

"At sunrise," Veyron said. "You will use tonight to prepare."

He looked toward the other survivors.

"Choose three men still capable of walking. The rest will remain here."

The captain lowered his head.

"As you command."

Teclos turned away from the table.

Axel followed, the chain beneath his cloak making a faint scraping sound across the stone.

"Where are you going?" Veyron asked.

"To sleep."

The count stared at him.

"You do not wish to inspect the equipment?"

"I will take what your men bring."

"You place a great deal of faith in your strength."

Teclos looked back over his shoulder.

"No. I simply place very little in theirs."

The hall fell silent.

Teclos walked out before the count could respond.

—

He rented a room at a tavern near the fortress.

The building was crowded with hunters, traders, and mercenaries who had gathered to hear what had happened to the failed company. Conversations weakened when Teclos entered with Axel chained behind him.

Several people stared.

No one asked questions.

Teclos placed a silver coin on the counter.

"One room."

The innkeeper looked from him to Axel.

"One bed?"

"One is enough."

Axel gave him a flat look.

The innkeeper wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

"The room at the end of the upper hall," he said, sliding a key across the counter. "Food is included."

Teclos collected the key and headed upstairs.

Axel followed until the door closed behind them.

The room was narrow but clean. It contained a bed, a small table, a washbasin, and a single shuttered window overlooking the street.

Teclos sat at the table and emptied the contents of Count Aweq’s storage ring.

Potions, coins, spare clothing, dried food, and several enchanted objects appeared across the wooden surface. Most were useless to him, but Aweq had carried enough wealth to fund months of travel.

Axel lowered himself against the wall.

"You robbed the dead thoroughly."

"He no longer needed any of it."

"You always have a convenient answer."

Teclos examined a group of potion bottles.

Most were high quality. Healing mixtures, antidotes, mana-restoring tonics, and two bottles designed to suppress exhaustion.

Useful.

A knock sounded at the door.

Teclos opened it.

Two fortress servants stood outside with leather packs and a wooden crate. They placed everything inside without meeting his eyes.

The crate contained coils of rope, lanterns, flasks of oil, dried rations, and several silver-tipped bolts.

Axel picked one up after the servants left.

"Silver?"

"The count must believe it works against werewolves."

"It probably does."

Teclos removed the bolt from his hand.

"Then the mercenaries should have done better."

"They expected six."

"They still had thirty-seven men."

Axel leaned back against the wall.

"You say that as if numbers have never mattered to you."

"They matter."

Teclos returned the bolt to the crate.

"They tell me how long something will take."

A short laugh escaped Axel.

"You truly have become unbearable."

Teclos tightened the chain around his neck.

Axel’s smile vanished.

For the next hour, Teclos sorted through the supplies. He kept the potions, oil, rope, and enough food for several days. Everything else returned to the crate.

Afterward, he studied the map taken from the fortress.

The captain’s company had entered the forest from the southern road, followed a hunter’s trail north, and lost their first men near a shallow stream.

The route bothered him.

Not because it was dangerous.

Because it was obvious.

Anyone watching the road would have known exactly where the mercenaries were going.

Axel noticed his expression.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That usually means something."

Teclos folded the map.

"The captain’s story is incomplete."

"You think he lied?"

"No."

That was what made it interesting.

The captain genuinely did not understand how his company had been surrounded.

Teclos walked to the window and pushed open the shutters.

Below, torches burned throughout the town. Mercenaries moved between taverns while workers prepared wagons for the morning roads.

Beyond the walls, the eastern forest waited beneath the darkness.

"Those beasts killed almost an entire company," Axel said. "You should not underestimate them."

Teclos looked toward the distant tree line.

"I am hoping they give me a reason not to."

—

He slept for several hours.

Axel did not.

Teclos had fastened the dark chain to a beam beside the bed, leaving him enough room to sit or lie on the floor but not reach the door.

Near midnight, the old man tested the chain once.

The darkness tightened around his throat.

Teclos opened one eye.

Axel stopped moving.

"Worth trying," he muttered.

Teclos closed his eye again.

By the time the bells announced the hour before dawn, both were awake.

Teclos changed into a clean black cloak and secured the storage ring beneath one glove. He ate downstairs, ignoring the whispers from nearby tables.

The mercenary captain arrived while he was finishing.

Three men waited outside with him.

All had survived the previous expedition.

None appeared pleased to be returning.

One carried a heavy crossbow and a quiver of silver bolts. Another had strapped two short spears across his back. The last wore the robes of a fire mage, though one sleeve had been cut away to accommodate the bandages around his shoulder.

The captain looked at Axel.

"He is coming?"

"Yes."

"He will slow us down."

Axel smiled.

"I like him already."

Teclos pulled the chain.

Axel stumbled down the tavern steps.

"He will keep up."

The captain looked toward the fortress.

Count Veyron’s men had provided two horses to carry supplies, but none for the travelers.

"We follow the main road until the eastern farms," he said. "After that, we turn north."

"You used the southern trail last time," Teclos replied.

The captain frowned.

"How do you know?"

"The map."

"The northern route is longer."

"That is why we are taking it."

The captain looked ready to argue.

Then he remembered the journey to the fortress and nodded.

They left as the sun rose.

—

The farmland ended before midday.

Fences gave way to waist-high grass, and the final watchtower disappeared behind the hills. Ahead of them, the forest stretched north and east like a dark wall.

The captain stopped near the tree line.

"Once we enter, keep your voices low. Werewolves can hear better than ordinary wolves."

Teclos looked into the trees.

"They already know we are here."

The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances.

The captain placed one hand on his sword.

"You sensed something?"

"No."

"Then how could you know?"

Teclos pointed toward the road.

The captain followed his gaze.

Tracks covered the soft earth ahead.

Dozens of paw prints crossed from one side of the forest to the other. Some were fresh. Others had been partially covered with leaves and loose soil.

The crossbowman crouched to inspect them.

"Wolves."

"Too large," the fire mage said.

"Dire wolves," Axel corrected.

The captain’s face tightened.

"They were not here before."

Teclos entered the forest.

The others followed.

For the first few hours, nothing attacked them.

That made the mercenaries more nervous than an ambush would have.

They found claw marks on several trees, but the marks appeared on both sides of the trail, always just far enough apart to prevent them from knowing which direction the creatures had traveled.

Later, they came across the remains of a deer.

Its body had been placed in the middle of the path.

Not eaten.

Placed.

The captain stopped the group.

"Do not touch it."

Teclos looked at the surrounding shadows.

The deer’s blood was still fresh, yet no tracks led toward or away from the corpse.

The mercenaries began searching the trees.

One of them noticed a rope beneath the leaves.

"Trap."

The rope led into the undergrowth, where sharpened branches had been bent beneath tension.

The captain stared at it.

"Werewolves do not make traps."

Axel looked toward Teclos.

"You were right."

Teclos stepped over the dead deer.

"They are watching us."

A howl rolled through the forest.

Another answered from the north.

Then a third came from behind them.

The horses panicked.

Before anyone could calm them, dark shapes began moving between the trees.

Wolves emerged from the undergrowth.

Not ordinary ones.

Each stood nearly as tall as a man’s chest, with broad shoulders, scarred hides, and yellow eyes fixed upon the travelers.

Dire wolves.

More appeared along the ridge behind them.

Then more to the south.

The captain slowly drew his sword.

"They surrounded us without making a sound."

The wolves did not attack.

They simply watched.

A figure stepped onto a fallen tree beyond them.

It stood upright.

Long arms hung beside a narrow body covered in dark fur. Its face resembled a wolf’s, but its eyes held none of an animal’s confusion or hunger.

There was calculation in them.

Intelligence.

It looked over the group before releasing a low growl.

The dire wolves moved at once.

Not charging.

Repositioning.

Closing every path of escape.

The mercenary captain’s face turned pale.

"They command them."

Teclos’s smile slowly returned.

At last, the failed expedition made sense.

These were not beasts gathering around a den.

They were an army defending its territory. And they had been expecting him.

The mercenaries tightened their formation, but Teclos stepped ahead of them.

Axel watched the werewolf on the fallen tree, then glanced at the dire wolves closing around the path.

"This was never a nest," he said.

"No," Teclos replied.

It bared its teeth.

The wolves lowered their bodies, waiting for a command.

Teclos loosened the chain around Axel’s neck and let darkness crawl across the ground beneath his boots.

His red eyes fixed on the werewolf leader.

"You went through all this trouble to welcome me," he said.

Then he smiled.

"It would be rude to disappoint you."