The merchant caravan left at dawn, and we were ready.
Seven dire wolves, one raven, one fox, and one deeply sleep-deprived noble who was beginning to question every life choice that had led him to this moment.
"My lord," Hans said for the third time, "are you certain about this?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway." I checked Copper's saddle one more time. The mare had been... unenthused about traveling with a wolf pack. It had taken Ash's direct intervention—a long, patient explanation through whatever bond animals shared—before she'd stopped trying to bolt.
Now she just trembled occasionally.
Relatable.
The Coldwater Trading Company caravan was already assembled outside the manor gates: three wagons, fourteen guards, and Merchant Wendell himself, looking simultaneously nervous and calculating.
"Lord von Klause." He bowed slightly. "I see you've brought... companions."
The wolf pack sat in formation behind me. Ash at the center, the others flanking. They'd insisted on this arrangement—a show of strength, of unity.
Humans respect pack display, Ash had explained. We show strength, they trust strength.
"My security detail," I said. "They'll be accompanying us through the Thornwood."
One of Wendell's guards—a grizzled veteran with a crossbow—took a step back. "Sir, those are dire wolves. They'll attack the horses, the cargo—"
"They won't." I opened myself to the bond, let the pack feel my certainty. "They're under my control."
Partnership, Ash corrected through our bond. Not control.
"Fine. They're under our mutual agreement not to eat anyone."
Wendell's eyes narrowed. "You can communicate with them."
"Yes."
"Truly communicate. Not just... command."
"Truly communicate. The Tame skill allows bonding, understanding. They know the mission, know what's expected. They'll protect the caravan." I met his gaze. "That's what you're paying for."
The merchant studied the wolves for a long moment. Then nodded.
"Very well. We depart immediately. The route is as discussed—Silver Road through the northern Thornwood, exiting at Coldwater Junction. Three days if weather holds."
"Scout has mapped the route. I know where the danger zones are." I gestured to the raven circling overhead. "We'll have advance warning of any threats."
"Then let's see if your unprecedented approach actually works, my lord."
We entered the Thornwood two hours later.
The forest swallowed us immediately—dense canopy blocking most sunlight, the air thick with the smell of earth and rot and living things. The Silver Road was barely a road anymore, more like a suggestion of cleared space that nature was aggressively reclaiming.
This was why merchants avoided it. This was why the Royal Highway, despite adding two weeks and three hundred marks to every journey, was preferred.
This was also why my services could be valuable.
Through Scout's eyes, I saw the forest from above. The caravan was a small dark line moving through green. And around us...
Movement. West. Four hundred yards.
I relayed to Ash: Wolves. Different pack. Watching us.
I feel them, Ash confirmed. Greytooth pack. Weak alpha, only four members. They will not challenge.
How do you know?
Pack size. We are seven. They are four. They know numbers. Will watch but not attack.
The bond was still overwhelming, but I was learning to interpret it better. Ash didn't think in words—wolves didn't have language like humans. But concepts, images, feelings translated across our connection with increasing clarity.
"There's a pack west of us," I called to Wendell. "Four wolves. They're watching but won't engage. Too few to risk it."
"You're certain?"
"The alpha knows pack dynamics. Four against seven isn't favorable odds. They'll shadow us but keep distance."
Wendell gestured to his guards. They raised weapons anyway.
Smart. Trust, but verify.
We traveled in formation: the caravan in the center, Ash and three wolves ranging ahead, the other three wolves flanking. Soot scouted the underbrush. Scout circled overhead.
It was the most coordinated operation I'd ever managed, and I was only marginally in control.
Left flank. Boar. Big one.
I felt Scratch—the scarred wolf on the left side—report through the pack bond. Not a threat to us, but the boar was aggressive, territorial. If the caravan passed too close...
Herd it away, Ash commanded.
Scratch and another wolf peeled off, silent as shadows. Through the pack bond, I felt them move—not attacking, just pressuring the boar, making it uncomfortable, guiding it deeper into the forest.
A minute later: Done. Boar moved. Path clear.
The caravan didn't even know there'd been a problem.
This was the value of the pack. Not just fighting—preventing fights. Making threats disappear before they became dangerous.
Wendell rode up beside me. "Your wolves just did something."
"Moved an aggressive boar away from our path. It would have charged if we got too close."
"And you... sensed this through your bond?"
"Scout spotted it from above, one of the wolves confirmed location, the alpha coordinated the solution." I glanced at him. "This is what you're paying for, Wendell. Not just muscle. Intelligence. Coordination. Prevention."
The merchant was quiet for a moment. Then: "If you can maintain this level of service, Lord von Klause, seventy-five marks per caravan is a bargain."
The attack came on the second day.
Not from wolves. From humans.
Scout's warning came first: Men ahead. Hidden. Armed. Waiting.
I signaled the caravan to stop.
"What is it?" Wendell asked.
"Bandits. Maybe eight, ten men. Half a mile ahead, both sides of the road."
"You're certain?"
I pointed up. Scout circled, cawing. "My raven doesn't lie."
Wendell cursed. "Can we go around?"
"Not with wagons. The forest is too dense off-road." I looked at Ash. "Can we discourage them?"
The alpha's response carried amusement. Men are easier than wolves. Men break when they see pack.
"They'll run if we make a show of force?"
Most will. Some are stupid. Stupid ones we educate.
I turned to Wendell. "Keep the caravan here. My pack will clear the road."
"You're going to attack them?"
"I'm going to convince them that attacking us is a bad idea. There's a difference."
I dismounted, signaled the pack forward.
Seven dire wolves moved into the forest, silent as ghosts. I followed, letting Ash guide me through the bond.
The bandits were exactly where Scout had indicated—five on the left side of the road, five on the right. Cheap weapons, cheaper armor. Desperate men looking for an easy score.
They were about to have a very bad day.
Surround. Do not attack unless I command. Just... be seen.
The pack split, circling through the underbrush.
I walked onto the road alone, hands visible, no weapons drawn.
The bandit leader—a scarred man with a rusted sword—stepped out from behind a tree.
"Well now. Fancy noble, all alone. Bad place for a walk, lordling."
"I'm not alone," I said calmly.
"Don't see no guards."
"That's because you're not looking in the right direction."
I opened the bond wide and pulled.
Seven dire wolves emerged from the forest simultaneously. Not rushing, not aggressive. Just... appearing. Surrounding the bandits like shadows gaining substance.
Ash walked to my side, easily the size of a pony, scarred muzzle pulled back to show teeth designed for tearing flesh.
The bandits froze.
"Gentlemen," I said quietly, "I'm escorting a merchant caravan through the Thornwood. That caravan is under my protection. Under my pack's protection."
One bandit dropped his weapon and ran. Then another.
The leader held his ground, but I could see him shaking. "You're... you're the von Klause boy. The one with the beasts."
"I am. And these are my partners. We can do this three ways." I counted on my fingers. "One: you attack. The pack eats well tonight, but I have to clean blood off my coat. Two: you run, find another road to haunt, everyone lives. Three..."
I paused.
"Three?" the leader asked.
"Three, you're tired of this life. Tired of nearly starving, tired of risking your neck for copper. You want steady work, steady pay, and you're willing to do honest labor for it."
He blinked. "What?"
"My estate needs workers. Fields to tend, walls to repair, construction projects. Two silver marks per week, plus food and basic housing. It's not glamorous, but it's legal and you won't get eaten by wolves."
"You're offering us jobs?"
"I'm offering you a choice. Three ways, like I said." I gestured to the wolves. "But choose quickly. My pack is getting bored."
Ash yawned, showing an impressive array of teeth. Several bandits took involuntary steps backward.
The leader looked at his men, then back at me. "You're serious. About the work."
"Completely. I need labor, you need income. But I need to know now—stay bandits and run, or take the offer."
He thought about it for maybe five seconds. Then threw down his sword.
"Fuck it. I'm too old for this shit anyway. We'll take the work."
Three others agreed immediately. The rest scattered into the forest.
I now had four new estate workers and exactly zero combat casualties.
Ash's satisfaction rippled through the bond. Clever-hands solves problems without blood. Efficient.
"Sometimes," I muttered. "Don't get used to it."
We reached Coldwater Junction three days later, exactly on schedule.
Wendell paid me seventy-five silver marks in front of his merchants' guild colleagues, very publicly praising my service and promising future contracts.
By the time I left, I'd received inquiries from three other merchant houses.
The ride back to the manor was significantly lighter—in cargo, in tension, and in my spirits.
Until I saw the smoke.
I smelled it before I saw it—thick, acrid smoke that made Copper nervous.
Fire. Manor direction, Scout reported.
I spurred Copper forward, the pack breaking into a run alongside me.
It took twenty minutes of hard riding to reach the estate.
The manor itself was fine. But one of the outlying barns—the one storing hay for winter—was a smoking ruin.
Hans met me in the courtyard, soot-stained and exhausted.
"What happened?" I demanded.
"Fire. Started around midnight. We managed to contain it to the one barn, but..." He gestured helplessly at the destruction. "The winter hay stores are gone. All of it."
I felt cold. "Accident?"
"Sir Jarred doesn't think so. He found signs of accelerant. Someone set this deliberately."
"Who?"
"We don't know. No witnesses, no evidence beyond the burn patterns."
I looked at the ruins. Months of stored hay, gone. We'd need to buy replacement at market prices, which would be...
"How much to replace the stores?" I asked.
Hans consulted his notes. "Approximately eighty marks. More if we can't source locally."
I'd just earned seventy-five marks from the caravan contract.
I was already back to zero.
"My lord," Hans said quietly, "this wasn't an accident. Someone is sending a message."
"What message?"
"That you're upsetting people. People with resources and willingness to use them."
Through the bond, I felt Ash's cold anger. Someone attacked our territory. Pack law demands response.
"We don't know who yet," I subvocalized.
Then we hunt. Find who. Make example.
"Or we rebuild and stay alert."
Prey response. Not alpha response.
"I'm not escalating without evidence."
Ash's disapproval rippled through the bond, but it didn't argue further.
I turned to Hans. "Double the watch. Rotate guards. And quietly ask around—see if anyone saw strangers near the estate last night."
"Already done, my lord. Though I doubt we'll find anything. Whoever did this was professional."
Professional meant resources. Resources meant noble or wealthy merchant.
Someone had noticed my success and didn't like it.
I was assessing the barn damage when Elena found me.
"You're back," she said. Then stopped. "You brought them."
The wolf pack was lounging in the courtyard. Several guards were giving them extremely wide berth.
"Yes. This is the pack. Pack, my sister, Elena."
Ash raised its head, studying her with golden eyes.
Your sister. Part of your pack. We do not threaten.
Elena took a cautious step closer. "They're... enormous."
"Dire wolves tend to be. The alpha is Ash." I gestured. "The scarred one is Scratch. The others I'm still naming."
"You're naming them?"
"They're pack. They get names." I walked toward her. "How are things here? Besides the fire."
Her expression darkened. "Bad. The servants are terrified. Half think the wolves will eat them in their sleep. The other half think you've made a deal with dark powers."
"I have Tame. That's it. No dark powers, no deals."
"Try explaining that to Cook. She's been leaving offerings outside the kitchen."
"Offerings?"
"Bread. Cheese. Apparently, she thinks if she feeds them, they won't eat her."
Through the bond, I felt Scratch's interest. Bread? Cheese? Scratch likes cheese.
"Tell Cook the wolves appreciate the gesture but they hunt their own food. They're not pets."
Elena was quiet for a moment, watching the pack. Then: "Lord Brennan heard about your caravan escort. He was... impressed."
"Good impressed or concerned impressed?"
"Both, I think. You're becoming notable, Dietrich. People are talking. 'The von Klause lord who tamed dire wolves.' Some think it's brilliant. Others think you're dangerous."
"What do you think?"
She looked at me. Really looked. "I think you're either saving us or damning us, and I won't know which until it's too late to change course."
"That's fair."
"The wedding timeline—my six months with Brennan—the clock is still running."
"I know."
"Can you do this? Actually save the estate?"
I thought about the seventy-five marks I'd just earned and immediately lost to arson. The 4,200 mark debt. The eight weeks remaining. The impossible math.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm trying."
Elena nodded slowly. Then, surprising me, she walked closer to Ash.
The alpha watched her approach with calm assessment.
My sister extended her hand, slowly. "May I?"
Ash looked at me. Your sister. Your choice.
"She's family. Be gentle."
Ash allowed Elena to touch its head. Her hand looked absurdly small against the massive skull.
"It's warm," she said quietly. "I thought they'd be cold, like... I don't know. Monsters."
"They're not monsters. Just wolves. Very large, very smart wolves."
Elena pulled her hand back. "If you can make this work—if you can actually turn beast taming into something valuable—you'll change everything. You know that, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"The social order. Knights and mages at the top, everyone else below. But if Tamers can provide what they can't—security, intelligence, control of territory—where does that put you?" She looked at the pack. "Where does that put all of us?"
I hadn't thought that far ahead.
I'd been so focused on immediate survival that I hadn't considered the larger implications.
If I succeeded, if word spread, if other people with Tame started following my example...
The old hierarchies would shift.
Just like they had seventy years ago, before the Purge.
"Elena," I said slowly, "what do you know about the Tamer Purge?"
"Only what's in histories. There was a pogrom, seventy years ago. People with beast-bonding abilities were declared dangerous, subversive. Most were executed or driven into hiding." She frowned. "Why?"
"Because I'm doing exactly what got them killed. Building power outside the traditional structures. Making myself valuable through bonds instead of bloodline."
"So you're risking the same fate."
"Possibly."
"And you're still doing it?"
"What choice do I have? Play by traditional rules, I fail and we lose everything. Try something new, I might fail but at least I've tried."
Elena smiled, but it wasn't happy. "You really have changed. The old Dietrich would have sold the timber rights to Voss and drunk himself into oblivion."
"Maybe I should have."
"No." She surprised me by putting her hand on my arm. "This is better. Terrifying, but better. At least you're fighting."
That evening, Ash brought me the new wolf.
She was smaller than the pack's males, leaner, with reddish-brown fur and intelligent amber eyes. She held herself with cautious confidence—not submissive, but aware she was entering established territory.
This is Ember, Ash explained through the bond. Lone wolf. Good hunter, smart. No pack after hers died in harsh winter. She seeks purpose.
I knelt in the courtyard, opening myself to Tame.
Ember's mind was sharp, wary. She'd been alone for months, surviving on cunning and determination. The loss of her pack was a wound that hadn't healed.
I showed her what I was offering: Pack. Purpose. Safety. Partnership.
She showed me her concerns: You are human. Humans kill wolves. Why trust?
Because I'm different, I projected. Because I offer partnership, not dominance. Because your strength serves both of us.
Ash added its presence to the bond. I chose clever-hands. I am alpha. I do not choose poorly.
Ember circled me, assessing. Then she sat.
Trial, she decided. Ember joins for trial. If clever-hands proves worthy, Ember stays. If not, Ember leaves.
Fair enough.
I slipped a silver ring onto her leg.
The bond formed—lighter than Ash's, more conditional, but real.
Eight bonded creatures now.
Ash's satisfaction flowed through our connection. Pack grows. Soon, strong enough for anything.
"How many more are out there?" I asked. "Wolves who'd consider joining?"
Many. Fifteen, maybe twenty. But they must be chosen carefully. Not all wolves suit pack life. Not all are worthy.
"Then we choose carefully. Quality over quantity."
Agreed.
I looked at Ember, who was being cautiously welcomed by the other wolves—sniffing, postural displays, establishing hierarchy.
Eight wolves. One raven. One fox.
Ten bonded creatures.
And somehow, I needed to turn that into enough value to pay off four thousand marks of debt in eight weeks.
The math still didn't work.
But my pack was growing.
Two days later, a letter arrived.
Not from Voss. Not from the Rothswalds.
From Duke Ravenshold himself.
I opened it with shaking hands.
Lord von Klause,
Word has reached me of your... innovative approach to estate management. Dire wolves as security, ravens as scouts, beasts bonded through the Tame skill.
How fascinating.
I find myself curious about these methods. I would like to discuss them—and potential opportunities for mutual benefit—at your earliest convenience.
Please attend me at Ravenshold Keep one week hence.
- Duke Malcolm Ravenshold
I read it three times.
Then handed it to Hans.
The steward's face went pale. "This is a summons."
"Phrased as an invitation, but yes."
"The Duke... my lord, in the game lore, Ravenshold was the antagonist. The one whose faction you joined and who led you to your execution."
"I remember."
"And now he's summoning you."
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
I looked at the letter. At the Duke's seal—a raven clutching a sword.
In the game, Dietrich von Klause had gone to Ravenshold seeking patronage, seeking protection. He'd traded his loyalty for promises that turned to ash when the political winds shifted.
He'd died for that choice.
But I wasn't that Dietrich anymore.
And I had something the original never had: real power that didn't depend on anyone's favor.
"I'm going," I said. "But not as a supplicant. As an equal."
Hans looked like he wanted to argue. But he just sighed.
"I'll prepare your travel arrangements, my lord."
After he left, I opened my journal.
Day Thirty-Six of Project Taming Ruin:
First caravan contract: Success. Earned 75 marks. Lost 80 to arson (winter hay stores burned). Net: -5 marks.
Someone is actively sabotaging me. Professional job. No evidence. Could be rival noble, hostile merchant, or someone else entirely.
Economic status: 441 marks liquid (446 - 5). Still projected ~1,000 total by tax deadline. Still short ~3,200 marks.
Pack expansion: Ember joined (conditional). Eight wolves total. Pack hunts successfully, self-sustaining, providing real security value.
New complications:
1. Arson = enemies with resources
2. Staff terrified of wolves (working on it)
3. Elena acknowledges what I'm building = social order disruption
4. Duke Ravenshold summoned me
That last one is the biggest problem.
In the game, Ravenshold was the antagonist. Charismatic, powerful, ultimately doomed by his own ambitions. Dietrich joined his faction and died when it fell.
But why is he interested NOW? What does he want?
Possibilities:
1. Genuine curiosity (unlikely)
2. Sees me as potential tool (probable)
3. Sees me as threat (possible)
4. Something else I haven't considered (worrying)
Cannot refuse the summons. Cannot go as a supplicant. Need to establish myself as valuable but independent.
The pack helps. Ravenshold respects strength. Eight dire wolves = strength.
But it's also risk. If he sees me as too powerful, too dangerous, too reminiscent of the old Tamer orders...
I could trigger exactly what got the Tamers purged seventy years ago.
Fuck.
Next steps:
1. Prepare for Ravenshold meeting (1 week)
2. Secure more caravan contracts (need revenue)
3. Investigate arson (quietly)
4. Continue pack expansion (carefully)
5. Figure out how to navigate Duke politics without dying
Note: Elena touched Ash. She's coming around. That's... something.
Another note: Four ex-bandits are now working fields. Cheaper than hiring legitimate laborers, and they're motivated (wolves are excellent workplace safety encouragement).
Yet another note: I have ten bonded creatures. TEN. Most Tamers historically bonded with 2-3 maximum. What happens if I keep expanding? Is there a limit? Mental capacity? Physical strain?
Marta might know. Need to visit before Ravenshold trip.
I closed the journal.
Through the bonds, I felt my pack. Ten distinct minds, all connected to mine.
Ash, strong and certain.
Scratch, loyal and scarred.
Ember, wary but warming.
The others, still learning their places.
Scout, sharp and clever.
Soot, mischievous and practical.
They were mine. I was theirs.
Together, we were building something unprecedented.
The question was whether we'd survive long enough to see it work.