Lefty follows her directions, trotting along at an easy pace despite the weather. They're feeling more confident, now, despite the situation.

When they see Basilisk, their ears pin forward, but this is the only outward signal of surprise. He's a big man, and Lefty doesn't flinch, approaching with a respectful posture. "That's me, yes." Their head drops, a little dipping motion.

"I understand I'm to serve as a slave for some time, until I prove I can thrive and succeed." Lefty doesn't mention that they, apparently, made a good impression. "It's good to meet you, Sir Basilisk. Is there... a title I should call you? I don't want to be presumptuous."

Basilisk couldn’t help a small twitch of surprise at the ‘Sir’ being a part of the adult world still caught him by surprise every now and then. He had grown up with the wolves here, they knew him as a kid. ‘Sir’ didn’t really roll of the tongue when talking to a wolf that had been a kid only last season.

He wasn’t entirely certain what to do with Lefty, or what she should address him as. He knew that this was a part of the Warlords test. In the end, he did as his father would have. “You can call me Prince Basilisk.” He was the Crown Prince, after all.

He glanced at the Treehouse behind him, and scrunched up his nose. “You can sleep…” He wasn’t sure he had an answer to end that sentence just yet. It was too cold to keep her outside, but the den only had two rooms. One occupied by himself and Hazel, the other with their kid, Spider. “... In Spider’s room.” His expression darkened, becoming more sure of himself, more serious. “You hurt my kid, and you won’t make it out of this tree house alive.” He warned her. With that, he trotted up the ramp, leading the way.


"Speech"

Lefty tilted her head as Basilisk spoke. These were interesting times, of course. This was interesting. Their teeth clicked once in acknowledgement as he dictated what she was to call him.

"Of course, Prince Basilisk." Prince. That was... promising. It meant, then, that she was likely testing him in turn. As he spoke of the child, her eyes became more intense.

"I will protect Spider with my life. March-- my companion-- will keep watch of the door while we sleep." Immediately, they had pledged themselves to the defense of a child they hadn't met.

But he walked, and Lefty followed, step sharp and precise.

Basilisk grunted at that, doubting the small wolf could do anything he couldn’t do. Of course, an extra set of eyes might be beneficial. In fact… “Do you know anything about kids?” He asked, keeping any… hopefulness out of his tones. He didn’t want Lefty to know that he had no idea what he was doing. But if he could tease some good tips out of her, that would be good. “In fact, while you're here, I want you to ensure Spider is fed and has what they need. Excluding anything Sirius gives you, that will be your primary concern.” There. That was a good use of the slave.

They reached the entrance to the treehouse, and he swung open the door, leading the way to Spider’s room. “Do you know anything about the structure of the pack? Have you been told the rules, or given bedding?” He needed to know where to start.

"Speech"

While Basilisk seemed, to some degree, unimpressed, Lefty remained impassive, appearing eager to please. He asked about children, and they nodded. "I cared for my brothers and sisters when they were still suckling, and helped to raise them. I know how to care for a child, yes!" Chipper.

Spider needed food and to be taken care of. Lefty noted the importance of taking care of the Prince's child, and then dipped their head again. "With your permission, Prince Basilisk, I would make a bird my companion, so that I could keep an eye on Spider when I am required elsewhere."

Lefty is already thinking ahead. Their strategic mind forms. Reacts. "I have not, no. I have observed an amount of pragmatism and reliance on deed, not word, but anything you have to tell me will be greatly appreciated."

Excellent. A bit of practical knowledge in regards to kids would go a long way. He grimaced at the mess - of both their rooms and general living space. He and Hazel were still in the flatmate stage of moving out of home. Damp coats on the floor, discarded snacks around the place. He took in a deep sniff and noted that one of his hidden stockpiles of food was starting to go off. With the intense growth spurts Bas had gone through in his life, keeping food on hand was a must.


"Right. Well… this is the place, that room will be yours and Spider's. Let's head to the Col and go over things, and then I'll introduce you to Spider." He decided.


Almost as soon as they entered the tree house, he was leading her out again. Trotting at a pace mindful of shorter legs, he led her towards the Col expecting her to follow.

The space was a mess, yes, but Lefty didn't care at all about that. They were used to disarray in some way. It was, in some ways, promising. It lent Lefty a sense of recognition. Normalized the other wolves.

As they were given their permission, they noted the scent of ... food passing over. They'd find the stash and toss it out before it turned.

They left the tree house together. Lefty didn't complain about having to keep a bit of a faster pace. "It's very homey in there, thank you." Lefty adjusted their stance a little. "Who else lives in there?" She had picked up the scents, after all.

"My mate, Hazel. She's the pack's General" he informed her, a hint of pride entering his tone. But that wouldn’t be all the scents she was picking up. "Under the tree house is Halos den, and my Uncle Mortis and their family. They've six kids, so if you see any pups running around it's probably them." He explained.

They reached the entrance into the Col, and walked between the mountains. The pack’s Obelisk stood in the centre point, with the communal fire and meeting point stretching out behind it. He didn’t lead her up to it yet, first turning into one of the dens that littered the mountainside. [b] “This is our pack’s stores, help yourself to some bedding, and anything else you think you might need.” Probably not the way Seer would have done, but the old Warlord had left her to him.


"Speech"

That hint of pride entered the man's tone, and Lefty scooped that up. Right. His mate was the General. Her nostrils flared and she tried to put Hazel's scent to memory; it would be important to remember in the future. "Six children!" Lefty exclaimed, a smile crossing her jaws -- "Well, congratulations to the couple." She meant it too, of course. She wasn't the sort to hide her emotions in that way.

She spied the obelisk, but had not been directed to approach it yet, and so did not. Lefty instead drifted after Basilisk, slipping into the den-- and she was quick to do as told. She grasped furs, a satchel. "I would not take a weapon so soon, Prince Basilisk," Lefty began, turning to face him, bedding slung across her back and a pair of gathering satchels across her shoulders, hanging down against each one. "May I return here, later, to gather materials to make your Spider a cloak?"

Their mind turns towards the future. Spider is a child, and will need suitable materials to grow into. First, though, Lefty will need to meet them.

"Speech"

Basilisk noted that the pack had reached the point where a stranger couldn't immediately tell that the Col had flooded. Especially in the stores, where everything had been cleared out and rebuilt. 


A thrill went through him at hearing the address he had asked for falling from her muzzle. He could get used to this. When Lefty looked through the supplies, and made a note about weapons, he laughed. He couldn't help it. She had met his Grandfather, right? "Your choice, but the Warlord will likely stick a weapon in your paws the moment he sees them empty" he informed her. Slave or not, the wolves of Armada had the research and knowledge to defend themselves. It was a rule that had been in place long before he was born.


"Sure, I'm sure Spider would like that" he agreed, backing out of the supply den. He led her next towards the Obelisk, where she could read the pack's rules etched into the stone. "This is the pack's meeting place. Communal dens are placed to the right, and to the left after the market's entrance.  Seers den is the one at the highest point up there" he said, pointing up the mountain. "Behind me is the walkway to First Light Point, the main watch post of the pack. Any questions?"

It was true. Lefty was entirely unaware that there had been a flood. A testament to the tenacity of the Armada, if anything. First, they gathered up materials for a cloak-- some cloth and wool, some leather. They slung it over their back again and wagged their tail, looking at Basilisk.

"I would like to make my own weapon and shield." She speaks boldly, perhaps, but there is an assurance in her voice. "A... well. A way to prove myself, but also because I do enjoy the process of smithing." Here, their jaws twitched into a little smile.

Then they approached the obelisk together; she tilts her head and reads it over, nodding -- "I've no questions, Prince Basilisk. If any come up, I'll ask you." She deliberately didn't mention Sirius; he was an option to ask, of course, but she was meant to report to Basilisk.

Hmm… Basilisk considered that idea, and then nodded his head, giving her his approval “We’ve a smithy you can use, as well.” He informed her, though she had likely seen it on their walk to the stores. “You’ll have to scavenge for your own supplies, and you can make it in your down time.” He wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

He gave her a moment to read over the rules and come to terms with them before he spoke again. “As a slave, you're required to do what any wolf asks of you. If you get clashing jobs, you learn to juggle or which wolf you can disappoint. You have full rights to your body. If a wolf tries to take advantage, you call for help. A high ranking wolf will appear, and the transgresser will likely become a slave themselves." He told her, already turning from the Obelisk. “Let’s get you settled in and introduce you to Spider.” Hopefully he hadn’t forgotten anything. He had no doubt one of his Grandfathers companions was keeping an eye on him.


"Speech"

Lefty's jaw twitched into a easygoing smile. They had rights to the smithy. That, then. That would be a method of proving themselves. They could make themselves useful, and teach others how to create weapons. Perhaps in time they could broaden their own horizons.

"I won't disappoint you, Prince Basilisk." Her eyes were bright and eager. There was no hesitation in them. Lefty could already see her usefulness and it made her feel delighted in the way only good work could.

After listening to the words, they spoke: "This is all fair. I ... appreciate my rights." Delicately said, a side-stepping allusion to something Lefty did not wish to discuss overmuch. As Basilisk turned, Lefty followed, head high despite their station.

Basilisk nodded his head at her, acknowledging her promise. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with a slave. He knew his Father would have treated her poorly, and Sirius would set her up to succeed while pushing her to go further. But Basilisk? He wasn’t sure. A part of him didn’t want to deal with the responsibility, but he knew that was unbecoming of the Armada Heir.

“Yes. Well, the Warlord has his own version of fairness” He said as she spoke of her rights. She could be pushed and tested, but that was a line that could not be crossed. He led her back out of the Col again. By now, she was hopefully getting a feel for the land. As he approached the treehouse he raised his head and called out to Spider, summoning his kid.


"Speech"

they slip easily from the treehouse, well-acquainted now with its floorplan and structure. it almost feels as though they've lived there forever, as though there'd never been a time when they hadn't slept in a bedroom of their own with their adoptive parents just across the hall. if only that were true. "Dad," they greet, coming to Bas' side and aiming to brush themselves affectionately against his shoulder. they've gained a little height over the past months, though it's apparent they'll retain a significantly small size even into adulthood. still, they've lost much of the puppy roundness in their face and legs, replaced by faint muscle and a sharp angularity. pink eyes flick to the stranger, the motion rendered unnerving by the twin pair of eyes that remain tellingly still. their gaze travels over the newcomer, scanning them from toe to ear tip with open scrutiny.

then a grin breaks out across their lips, flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth as their expression shifts with impish delight. "oh, hello - you're new."

Speech