[Imperial Border Fortress]Reinforcements

Tristan and Rican Arrive

18th of Ymiden 716

A blistering desert that stretches for hundreds of miles around Nashaki, with very little relief from the baking heat.
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Tristan
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Date: 18th Ymiden, 716
Location: Imperial Border Fortress

Finally, after way too long in the saddle, the Fortress loomed ahead. The sun was just setting, and the shadows gave their group a moment of blessed coolness. The day had been scorcher, even by the standards of the Hotlands. They had started before the sun had risen, in an attempt to avoid the heat of the day, as the wolves that followed the Scouts couldn't handle too much movement during the day.

But finally, over a dozen breaks later, they had made it. Tristan stretched in his saddle, twisting to the side as he turned to gaze at the scattered lines of horsemen stretching out behind him. Fifty-one in total, with Rican in charge. He turned to gaze at his master, riding confidently beside him. Whistling to get his attention, Tristan twisted his hands.

What should we do when we get there? Is it going to be another night in tents?

Rican looked at him, and shook his head.

They should welcome us, though I'm not sure how many are left. Most of the forces left to fight already. Raskalarn left here on the first, so they've been gone a while.

Tristan nodded, and focused back on the far off building, zoning out as the long line slowly lumbered across the sand.
Tristan sat stiffly at the table, slightly annoyed at his master. Rican had been greeted by the fort commander as they entered the gate, and had been invited in for dinner. The rest of his pack had been forced to eat the same gruel they had eaten since they left Korlasir over three weeks earlier. Of course, since Rican was invited, Tristan was expected to. Rican could've easily sent Tristan back to the fires of the Scouts, and the easy camaraderie there.

Instead, he was forced to attend a formal dinner. Him, a slave who had never used utensils that nice. Shuffled down the table, he sat awkwardly between two older humans who wore the uniforms of infantry commanders. They had made some attempts at conversation when he had first joined them, but his attempts to communicate left them confused. So he was resigned to silence, too worried to eat the spread before him. His stomach grumbled its dissent, but he refused to eat incorrectly and let it reflect badly on his master.

Damn you Rican. You couldn't have given me leave for this?

As he sat and listened, however, he heard tales. A battle had been fought, and they would likely need reinforcements right away. A pigeon had brought the news, though it hadn't said which way the fight had gone. When the commander told Rican they would be heading out in the morning, Tristan internally sighed.

More time in the saddle. Yay.

He tried to ignore his stomach, and enjoy the rest of the night, realizing that this would likely be the last time he was warm and comfortable for a long time.
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The dinner was progressing quietly when one of the other participants, high-alpha Velka Mindre suddenly turned and looked right at Tristan. "You aren't eating, and I can hear your stomach. In your role, keeping up your strength is important. So why do you not eat?" she asked, reaching down to pet the massive, horse-sized wolf at her side whose furred back could just been seen, as he was mostly laying down. At her words, Marshal Helfyre and the rest of the fort commanders also glanced over at Tristan, though they soon returned to their conversations. Velka, however, kept her gaze on Tristan, clearly expecting an answer.
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At her words, Tristan looked up in alarm. He furrowed his brow, glancing to his side, futilely hoping that someone else had also abstained from eating. There was no such luck, however. As if in agreement, his stomach growled loudly, and she looked at pointedly at him.

The silence that fell over the table made Tristan shift awkwardly. It was rare that he was in the presence of so many senior officers- usually Rican attended meetings alone, leaving Tristan in the hallway. Most of the others returned to their conversations, however the high-alpha continued to stare at him.

He groaned inwardly.

Great. Another person I've gotta try to explain the fact that I can't talk to.

He began gesturing, trying to make himself understood.

My tongue was cut out, so I can't talk. As for the rest, I don't normally attend formal dinners.

He doubted she would be able to understand him, but he figured it would be worth a try anyway. His hands lingered on the word formal, trying to make it obvious that he had no clue how the hell to use the dozens of glittering utensils arrayed in front of him.

He figured, if all else failed, he could get the attention of Rican. The high-alpha's question was worth interrupting his conversation for.
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Velka cocked her head to the side in a distinctly canine manner as Tristan began gesturing at her, then glanced down at the furred back of her wolf as he spoke in her head. "That one lost his tongue before meeting his current master. He cannot speak at all but with his hands. A cruel deed his former masters performed." Velka nodded, then turned her gaze back to Tristan. "So you cannot speak. That's understandable, but your not eating is not. Did your master forbid it?" she asked, her voice turning harsher at the end, showing she would be displeased were that the case.
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Tristan sighed inwardly as the woman showed no sign of understanding him.

Great... Fine then, I'll get Rican to explain it.

He actually looked forward to having his Rican try to explain why he wasn't eating, as the high-alpha didn't appear to like it.

Rican had been keeping an eye on Tristan after Velka's initial outburst, and all it took was a quick motion to get his attention.

You want to explain to her why?

Despite only talking with his hands, he had learned how to portray emotions in the careful twisting of his fingers. He wasn't sure if Rican would be able to notice, but he was still pissed off at him. Let him try and talk her down.

He cleared his throat, barely able to meet her eyes. "Yes, um, well. You see. I didn't forbid it. Tristan just doesn't know how to eat at a formal dinner. It was hardly a, um, useful skill for him at his previous masters house, and we haven't had the time or need to teach him. Until now I guess." He let off an awkward chuckle as he finished talking, not sure which way the high-alpha would lean.
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(OOC: Sorry for the delay, had some IRL things keepin' me from posting to this topic.)

Velka turned her gaze to Rican as he spoke then finally nodded and returned to her meal as Marshal Helfyre leaned forward. "And I'd guess he does it to avoid embarrassing you. Good of him, but....well, not eating is worse. If you ever have the honor to attend a meal with either our Divine Empress or her Hunter, him not eating would certainly attract their attention and not in a good way." he said, before turning his attention to Velka as she spoke again.

"We had that honor the day before the war started. Empress Raskalarn might care about manners, I'm not sure. Lady Karem's most certainly would not care. The higher ranking scouts tend to have at least decent table manners, but she eats like a wolf. As for your slave....well, he's a slave. Nobody actually expects him to have good table manners." she said, shrugging.

Helfyre laughed slightly at Velka's comment. "That's true. Eat. We're soldiers here and we remember our beginnings well enough that we don't get upset over poor table manners." he said, his tone more cheeful as he spoke.
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As they spoke, Tristan followed the conversation, feeling slightly embarrased as they explained. In his attempt to avoid creating a scene for Rican, he had actually created a scene.

He shot a glance at Rican, who had nodded once at him before continuing to eat.

All right, here goes nothing.

Blushing, he awkardly picked up a fork and knife and imitated what he had seen the others doing all night. The first mouthful was heavenly and it was all he could do not to moan. He closed his eyes as he chewed, and eagerly attacked the full plate in front of him, much to the amusement of those around him.

He quickly signed a thanks to the High-Alpha, which Rican dutifully passed along. It often amused Tristan to see his master forced to accommodate him, and the irony was never lost on him.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of good food and amusing conversations as he slowly felt himself relax in the company of so many officers.
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(Tristan, next time I go more than a week without posting to this, please PM me. >_>)

The dinner went quietly after the talk and it wasn't until the end when anything important came up. After the others had begun to disperse, Vierka stood up, the great wolf beside her also rising to his feet, and gestured at Rican. "Come with me, alpha. Your slave can accompany you." she said as she started to leave the hall.

Some time later, they arrived in her office, where five other, smaller, wolves laid around in various stages of relaxation, with one of the Omega's napping on a rug. "Now then, Rican, how informed are you regarding our situation here in the Hotlands?" she asked, her tone all business now as she gestured Rican and Tristan to seats.
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As the meal ended, Tristan looked around, curious as to what was going to happen next. He was finally sated, and his stomach burbled its appreciation of the meal. When Vierka stood and beckoned Rican, Tristan followed behind. He thought they would begin talking once free of the others, however they walked in comfortable silence until they reached the High Alpha's office. Tristan entertained himself by watching the wolf's tail twitch as it sauntered next to Vierka. The beast was nearly as big as his horse, and the thought of them in battle sent shivers down his spine. As a ranger, he hated anything that could close the gap between them with the speed he saw in the wolf's legs.

As they entered her office, he caught sight of five smaller wolves laying about, before Vierka got Rican's attention. As she spoke, Tristan tried to stand unobtrusively by the door, listening to every word said. The High-Alpha, however, gestured them both to seats, and Tristan sunk down next to his master as the man replied.

"Not very well, I'm afriad. I know that you met a force made up of several different factions, but I still don't know the end results of what happened there, nor do I know casualty numbers or where we stand now. All I was told is that we're finally making our first large-scale attack, and we were needed on the front lines."

His voice was calm and clear, mirroring the tone set by his superior.
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Vierka nodded at Rican's assessment and pulled a file off her desk and handed it to him. "We won. But towards the end, Nashaki forces unleashed a necromancer they had hiding in their back pocket. It didn't change much, but he raised dead over a large enough area that they hit the fort itself. However, his dead were....weak. Brainless. Whoever this necromancer is, he's got lots of raw power, but no real skill. Possibly he has some sort of amplification artifact." she said, leaning back in her seat and looking up at the ceiling.

After giving Rican time to read the file, she looked back at him. "We have several missions we need undertaken, I'll send you word word when we're sending you out in particular. In the meantime, do you need resupply for your pack or anything of that nature?" she asked, reaching down to pet one of the Beta wolves that had walked over to her and put his head in her lap. In the meantime, another of the Beta's had taken to staring at Tristan, occasionally shuffling a bit.
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