Fruition of dominion

To his liking, multiple members of his brood would heed his command, stepping forward to claim ranks and initiate challenges against competitors. Aresenn claimed the rank of Emir, which wasn’t surprising. Sephiran shifted his gaze to the crimson male, emerald and amethyst hues cracking with anticipation; the tension hanging between himself and his friend thick and palpable. “Very well.”  He’d say, nodding to Aresenn, acknowledging the male’s desire to become his Beta. His second in control, one of his most trusted advisors. If someone had told Sephiran they would be bonded like this when meeting Aresenn for the first time, he would have found it impossible to believe. But life had a way of keeping everyone on their toes.

The next to speak up was Caedes, having claimed the rank of Effendi Haakim. In a previous discussion, the male had mentioned wanting this role, so it wasn’t an unforeseen occurrence. Nodding to Caedes, Sephiran accepted his desire to become his lead physician, as he knew he was more than capable. No one challenged him for the rank, which meant Caedes secured it successfully.

Oh? The challenge that came next, was one Sephiran hadn’t foreseen; Absinth was trying to claim Effendi Muqatil, lead warrior, and Elysia was challenging her for it. The two women went at it, grappling each other and morphing themselves into a heap of snapping jaws, flailing limbs, and clashing bodies. Leaning forward in his seat, Sephiran would allow the carnage to ensue, wanting blood to be spilt in the name of The Syndicate. Already the mechanics of his mind were turning, stratagems of how he could manipulate the situation forming in his mind. Absinth showed drive, but Elysia was family. It was already an anomaly to have a non-Saxe wolf as his Emir. To have another as his lead warrior? Well… He wasn’t sure he could come to terms with that.

Acting on impulse, Sephiran released a guttural, domineering snarl, one that signals the two women to cease their fighting. “Elysia, you will be my Effendi Muqatil.”  He says, shifting his gaze to Aresenn. “And you’ll make sure she fills the role well.”  Undeniably, he had more experience in group battles than Elysia did; it would be more beneficial, to make training their warriors a group effort. “Absinth,” His attention turns to her next. “We will speak alone.”  Cryptic and unpredictable, one could never tell what was going on in Sephiran’s mind, which left an aura of uncertainty hanging in the air between himself and Absinth.


Once Elysia and Absinth had parted and took their seats, Sephiran waited for anyone else to step up and claim a role. They still needed a lead hunter… so, when no one offered themselves, he made his disappointment known. “I still require an Effendi Sayad.”  He begins, shifting his attention to the hunters of the group; his gaze fixated and narrowed, honed in on the object of anticipation as he expects one of them to heed his command.“Hone your skills over the next season; I expect one of you to step up before winter takes over The Polar Sound.” His lips are pressed firmly, the intense expression on his face remaining.

There was no room for error, no acceptance for a lack of drive. If they wanted to remain in the pack, they’d need to earn their place.


Rolling his shoulders forward, Sephiran releases some of the tension building in his neck before sweeping his gaze across the faces in the crowd. Silence had fallen over them all, but the intensity radiating from Sephiran continued to ripple throughout the gathering. “Tonight, we will feast.” He says, rounding back to his plan for a celebration. They’d earned it, after all- The Syndicate was theirs. His muzzle flicks to the side, where a few of the Sidi emerge with bottles of booze and baskets of other mind-altering substances. Behind them, another row of Sidi appeared, adorned in jewels and vibrant fabric that will accentuate their movement and the curvature of their bodies. Their role? To dance and sway in front of the Saxe hoard, to serve their every desire and ensure they have a night of gluttony and rapacity.

Grabbing one of the bottles from a girl closest to him, Sephiran raises it to the air, saluting his brood. “Long live The Syndicte.” And with that, their celebration commences.


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