The days without Silveris had been painful. As he went on his patrols with Yorrick both Charlie and the fisher felt the emptiness of their third companion. Not hearing her chirps and calls was bizarre; the young male found himself looking around the woods for her whenever he heard a similar call. But no, he realized, it couldn’t be. His father had said he would keep Silveris away for a time, a lesson that was hard, but the yearling understood the importance of it. At least this absence would be temporary, and, in time the shrike would be with them once more. He didn’t doubt his father’s words, and he knew that she would be safe, even if he couldn’t see her. That didn’t make her absence feel any easier though.

But at last, the day his father had promised to return her had approached, and that morning, as Charlie woke, he thought about the lesson his father had put him through. He needed to be mindful during his fights, spars or not. Those he loved could be at risk, he could be at risk, and not taking things seriously would have consequences. He wasn’t a puppy anymore… in that awkward stage between child and adult. He felt ready to take on that responsibility, more so now than when he had first approached his father. A glance around revealed that Yorrick was out, likely hunting for himself. While the Armada had food at the ready the fisher enjoyed fetching food on his own.

Charlie would head toward the obelisk, hoping to meet his father there. He’d look over the stone as he arrived, wind lightly ruffling his tawny fur as he lowered his rump to the ground. His blue gaze was thoughtful, studying the stone that he had seen time and time again. Through the seasons it stood, unchanging, unfaltering no matter what. He would draw in a breath and turn his head, hoping to see the figure of the Warlord and his companion on the horizon.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

The Warlord had taken Charlie’s companion. He kept the time period short, just enough for the lesson to stick. While the first spar had greatly worried the Warlord, the second had shown him that Charlie was capable of treating a spar as serious as a battle.

Today, he would speak to Charlie of his rank, and return his companion to him. Punishing his children had never been anything but extremely difficult for the Warlord, and it was with some relief that he brought Silveris back to his son.

He found Charlie waiting for them, and he approached the younger wolf. Leaning over to gently butt his head against his brow. “I’m proud of you” He said simply.


"Speech"

They would come, though Charlie had no doubt that they would. His father was a man of his word, a man of action, and the yearling knew his father had only enforced the lesson out of love. The warlord cared about him, his safety, and he needed to be sure that he could handle himself. They had lost Zee, his father’s mate, the mother of his children, and during his time to reflect Charlie had wondered if, for a moment, his father feared losing him too. If the way he had gotten distracted during their first spar had caused his father to question if he’d be safe on the battlefield… It had made him feel a bit guilty.

He would wait, and soon enough his father and companion would be seen. Silveris was unharmed, per his father’s word when he enforced the punishment. As the Warlord approached his son the shrike would hang back, hovering in the air to give father and son their moment before she reunited with her friend.

A small relieved smile appeared on the yearling’s maw as Sirius butted against his brow. “I’m going to keep making you proud of me.” His words were softly spoken, but they were a promise as the boy drew back, looking at his father. There was no ill will, nothing more than the love and respect Charlie had always held for the man.

“I thought a lot about that day…” Charlie’s smile faded, his look becoming serious. “I know I messed up, and… I’m sorry...” Charlie’s expression softened. “When I first approached you about my rank I didn’t think about how I should actually approach it. A rank is more than just a title or role within a pack… and I should have approached the spar with that in mind in the first place…” The yearling shook his head.

“But I approached something like I would as if we were practicing when I was younger. I didn’t think about the consequences of losing or what my actions could lead to if it was a fight against an enemy.” His ears lowered. “...I’m not a kid anymore. It’s not just practice… I gave you a reason to worry, to question if I would be a liability on the field to others and myself.” That guilty feeling rose again, but Charlie did not lower his gaze away from his father’s face. Words meant nothing if your actions did not back them up.

“I hope our second spar showed that I can take things seriously… but I understand if you still don’t feel ready to make me a warrior. If that is the case, I will keep striving to improve, and prove to you that I’m capable.” Charlie spoke with resolve in his voice now. “I know the path I’m meant to take, and I will do whatever it takes to get there.” With his piece said, the yearling draws in a breath, wondering how his father would respond.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

The Warlord didn’t doubt Charlie. He had already proven his capacity to grow, and his desire to do what he could for the pack and his family. He had given the Warlord a start, but had worked hard to prove himself since then. Charlie’s words only proved that further. He was willing and able, and his maturity showed how much he had learned.

“You’ve been a child your whole life, it’s hard to turn around and realise that you need to have the actions of an adult. You're growing up, and quickly. You’ve already proven your capacity to adapt. You came to me for a rank as a child, but I feel you have since grown into the ability of taking it as an adult.” The Warlord said, taking a step back, letting himself really look at his son.

There was so much of Zee in him. He had much of her softness, her gentleness. But there was the Warlord in him too. That possessive need to protect, to fight. “You came to me for the rank of Warrior. That position is yours now. But if you want to climb further, your ready for that, as well.” The Warlord advised him.

"Speech"

As his father spoke, Charlie listened, attentive. He was right, it had been a big change, and he had needed to adapt quickly. A task he felt that his siblings had managed to do faster than he had. But it was not a race; the yearling was proud that they were all growing, all of them developing their skills and making something of themselves. They all had potential, and knowing he had proved his resolve to learn, to adapt, to his father made the tawny yearling feel immensely proud. He gave a small nod to his father, to the Warlord of the Armada, gaze shining as he spoke to Sirius directly. There had always been a high level of respect from Charlie for the man, but this time, he was speaking not just as a son, but as a fellow pack member.

“I’ll be honest with you, Warlord…” His words were clear, yet they held that softness and sincerity that Charlie had when speaking with his loved ones. His lips came up in a bright, confident smile, but he shook his head. “I don’t know the final path I wish to take from this point. I have every intention of continuing to climb through the ranks of the Armada… but I am uncertain which path calls to me most yet.” He spoke honestly. Smile fading, but not in a frown. There was a serious look on his face when he spoke his next words.

“What I do know is no matter the path I end up taking, I will protect our family, our pack, and the lands we call home with everything I have. None will question the strength of the Armada or find a weak link here.” His gaze would shift then to his companion and Silveris, sensing it was now time to join him, flew over to Charlie. Her wing would brush against his cheek in an affectionate greeting before she purchased herself above a shoulder. Charlie would allow his smile to return before he looked back to his father. “...and I’m going to do it with the companions I know I can count on. We’re going to work until we move and breathe as one. There won’t be any more mistakes in the future.” A promise.

He would move forward then, closing the gap between himself and Sirius. The boy would give his father a hug, feeling warmth spread through him. He hadn’t really hugged Sirius much since he was a young pup… but it felt appropriate to do so now. His voice became gentle. “I love you dad.”

"Speech," 'Thought.'

He was surprised at his son's uncertainty, after everything they had gone through to get this fair. He raised a brow at Charlie, but didn’t speak yet. Letting him say his full piece without being interrupted. When Charlie stepped forward, the Warlord welcomed the embrace. Pulling his son close, and kissing his crown before resting his cheek against the boy's forehead. Holding him close, and tight. As if he was still a child, as if time hadn’t already affected the both of them.

He let out a soft, breezy sigh, but didn’t loosen his hold. “I love you too, Charlie. Never forget it. You don’t have to rise within the Armada to earn my affection. Whatever you chose, you’d still be the only thing I ever needed you to be: my son” But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to encourage his son to rise, and make the best of himself. “However, if it interests you, With Ruga’s absence you could consider looking to the rank of Master of Arms” He suggested, remembering his sons ingenuity with his crafting.


"Speech"

His father returned his affections, holding him close. It was a moment that Charlie knew, even when it was past, that he would cherish. Hearing those words from his father filled his heart with joy, swelling with pride. Even if he didn’t need to rise within the Armada, he wanted to. Both for his father, and for himself. As he looked at the challenges he had faced thus far, he realized he didn’t resent them. They had been learning opportunities, and growing up, taking more responsibilities, and bettering himself was all part of that too. As much as he wanted to make Sirius proud, he wanted to be able to look at himself at the end of each day and be able to say he’d done everything he wanted and needed to do. To feel that pride in himself.

But hearing that their blacksmith was absent troubled him. Charlie would draw back, frowning. “Ruga has been missing? I hope that he is alright…” The worry for his packmate was clear, and Charlie furrowed his brow in thought. With Ruga missing there was no one tending to the weapons and armor of the Armada. He looked at the ground for a moment, considering his father’s words, and then he would lift his gaze, certainty within those blue orbs. “It sounds like fate is encouraging me to walk that path. The position is open, and needs to be filled.” Charlie stood straighter.

“Warlord, I request the rank of Master of Arms.” His lips pulled up, a smile touching them. “And I am ready for any task you ask of me to prove it.” He would step up and rise to this challenge as he had the other. Fighting his father for the rank of warrior had been one thing, but Charlie was far more confident in his attention to detail and perceptive nature. Besides that, he had enjoyed working on the weapon Sirius. Maybe they would be able to finish it soon. Charlie was sure it could have been finished by now if he had asked, but it was a task he wanted his father part of. The bond in creating the weapon had meant more to him than the weapon itself. He knew that when he was able to use it, the mace would not fail him.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

"Ruga isn't missing, he requested the right to leave and I granted it. He left behind his blacksmith, so everything is set up for another to take his place" the Warlord explained. At his son's formal request, his muzzle twitched as he fought a smile and then straightened. Serious for the occasion, and to do his son the honour he deserved. 


"Very well" he agreed, and the task he gave his son would be fitting, but not difficult. Charlie had already proven his merit through strife. "I want you to talk to one of Mortis or Aris' children and make them a weapon or piece of armour at their request" an important first piece for one of the kids. Fitting for his Master of Arms

Though Ruga wasn’t actually missing, the fact that he had requested to leave the Armada was still something strange to the yearling. But the man had left behind the tools to do his job, a job that Charlie felt drawn to. Being in the smithy, helping his father work on the mace, he had felt his mind at work. He watched how his father planned the weapon, how he considered the weight of the materials and what would be easier for a yearling vs an adult to wield. It had been fascinating, but more to the point he had understood why the man made the decisions he did. It was something that would come more with experience of build and such, but Charlie was sure with a little bit of testing he could get anything to work he put his mind to.

His father’s task was fitting, important to the rank that he had requested. He had met a couple of Aris’ children, and only one of Mortis’ so far… but he definitely felt a connection with one more than the others. Working with the young wolf would be an interesting challenge, especially since he couldn’t craft a truly dangerous weapon for a child. He’d also need to consider how the armor crafted would work if the boy chose that, and the wings would be another factor depending on what might be wanted. But like his father was able to tune down his weapon, Charlie was sure he could do the same for his nephew.

“Consider the task done, sir. We’ll have it ready to present to you in no time.” He dipped his head respectfully to the man before him. “Permission to leave, Warlord?” He would need to go try and find his nephew and see what the little one might be interested in. Wylan had already asked him to teach him how to fight… maybe he could encourage the creation of a weapon and couple it with a lesson of safety? His mind was already at work on the task, ready to begin.

"Speech," 'Thought.'