Flare returned to his den with a heavy bundle held awkwardly wrapped in his maw. He trotted through the door and dropped his load on the table, a hint of armor showing beneath the careful wrapping. “Come, Demelza.” He ordered the slave, clicking a claw in summons.


“I commissioned this from the Armada, a wolf named Ignita designed it.” He said, releasing the tie and letting the material fall fully aware, displaying the armor in all it's glory beneath. It was the finest thing he had ever owned, and had cost him most of the remaining spoils from his frantic hunts pre-rank challenge. Now, now he just needed a reason to wear it.

Demelza was bonding with her owl Cedar when she heard Flare's paw steps outside. She motioned for the owl to find a roost, then bowed low to the ground waiting for him to enter.

She jumped slightly as he dropped the heavy load on the table. Quickly she responded to his summons, slinking along the floor without a hobble or limp. She had mostly recovered from his previous corrections. She peered over the table, listening to him. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the details!

"It certainly suits you, Master." She cooed with a touch of awe, her eyes lingering on the powerful spikes. "It doesn't look very shiny, does it come with special cleaning instructions?" she asked, reaching out to feel the texture of the armor

"Speech"

Demelza was becoming a slave to be proud of. Like a pet that was coming along in its training, when it did well you knew it was for your hard work. She bowed low to the floor when he entered, and hurried to the table when he called upon her.

Flare frowned thoughtfully when her question promoted a reminder. He thought of the overly prepared wolf who had been his liaison in the Armada trade. “Actually, yes. I think there was a care package with some papers...” he said, rummaging around in the packaging a moment before coming away with a packet of info. He tossed it on the table in front of Demelza, his own attention on the armor.

"Speech"

She ducked with flat ears as the packet of information landed on the table. She quickly gathered it up and slipped it off the table to peruse. Her tail began to wag as she realized there were a few doodles around the steps. She could make out several of the notes and letters of the scrawl, the writing very different from her mother's journal.

She could understand well enough she thought, a few of the longer words though she didn't recognize nor make sense. What did "Aberasife" (abrasive) mean? Hm.

She looked back at her master, unsure whether to ask him what a word was. Her brothers didn't bother to learn how to read, and she hated trying to ask her father for anything.

She approached her master and the table, "Do you want me to put it on you? Master?" She asked demurely. Whatever made him happy. Keep him happy, keep her safe.

"Speech"

Flare finally wrestled it free from it's packaging and revealed the armor piece in all it's glory. He traced a digit across the sharp points, and grinned. They had outdone themselves with this, those market folk. The amusing part to Flare was the knowledge that he would have no qualms with turning this Armor on them in battle if the situation ever called for it.


“Yes.” He agrees to his slaves suggestion, ducking down so the smaller wolf could reach his shoulders. He otherwise gave no concession to its size and weight. He waited until she had settled the weight of it over his body before he spoke next. Least his words cause her to drop it. “You and I are going hunting, little bait.” What better way to test it's mettle… and hers.