His eyes didn't open. Sleepy, but unwilling to leave the conversation. “You'll like spring.” He told her, the hint of warmth and the return of growing things. A pack's life was easier in the spring. He'd remember to have a chat with Tehtys at his little birds recommendation.


 “Hmm..” he murmured into her coat. How to put this? “Stagnation is unhealthy in a pack. Things are always changing. The apprentice rank is specifically a place to grow from. A chance to learn, and find your passion. Those that refuse to, use the pack's resources and give little back.” He knew a little of where she had come from. Drunken parties that had installed a fear of alcoholics. A vastly different world.

She stirred, sitting up a little more, raising her head, and opening her eyes. Mainly because the conversation was becoming stimulating.

"Oh, I agree with you. I was wondering what the benefits we could entice them with were. If they're comfortable in the apprentice rank and don't have any pressure to move out of it, what's spurring them to seek higher ranks?" Her background was a mixed bag of rubbing shoulders with overly privileged elites and invisible servants, serving a queen who was more keen on keeping her princess in the dark and used for bullying at parties. Ignita never got to see much else of the pack or how it might have worked.

"What do we do if they refuse to learn?" She asked, placing her paw over his arm, but placing her cheek against his.

"Basilisk" || "Iggy"

A laugh rumbled softly out of his chest when he realised he had misunderstood her. Of course she understood, his clever little Ignita, always working to better the pack. She had been looking for solutions, Not asking why.


He cracked open an eye enough to kiss her cheek, his affection for her past what he could put into words. “You're right, that's exactly why they haven't moved. If they don't want the authority, and aren't afraid to stay at what's comfortable, they need incentive. Perhaps we allow them a year's grace in the apprentice rank, and if they don't rise, they fall.” That was one of the benefits of the slave rank.

She hummed into his kiss, closed her eyes again, and sighed.

"Harsh, but acceptable." She replied. It made sense for this pack. The pack was founded by slaves and the rising of their status to freedom. She ran her claw lightly over the fur of his arm, no pressure, just enough for it to tickle.

"What if every year we hold a... some kind of ceremony or meet, or bonfire thing, where the lower ranks are encouraged to attend and challenge to prove themselves to you for a higher rank? Including the slaves." Attending the Bonfire celebration in the hallows had sparked an idea. She didn't know if Armada had anything like that.

"Basilisk" || "Iggy"

She hummed into his kiss, closed her eyes again, and sighed.

His Lady agreed. They’d have to iron out the details and make it fair, and workable. Perhaps he’d give them six months for the first round, that would bring them into the end of summer and start of autumn. Most of those in the Apprentice rank had already sat there long before he became the Warlord.

“Mmmm..” He breathed, feeling the brush of her paw across his arm. Distracting, but comforting too. Perhaps there would come a day when it was only comforting. “I wouldn’t want to model anything too closely to the Hallows. Perhaps we demote those that have stagnated at the end of Summer. Give them half a year to regret their choice, and then at the end of Winter we hold a tournament. Any of our wolves can enter, but those especially that wish to rise can use it as a chance to prove themselves.” He suggested

"Basilisk" || "Iggy"

She giggled as he mentioned the Hallows, "I have a feeling that was a rather unusual turn of events." She had dove under Bas as soon as it became apparent it was no longer a peaceful junction.

"The end of Summer. Pick your place or serve your time, alright. Would we hold that tournament every six months then or just the end of winter every year?" She asked, another thought struck her, as they tend to, "What if the slaves stagnate and they don't pick up after another year? Do we kick them out?" Somehow the term we slipped into her vocabulary, unconsciously.

"Speech"

“I believe they have a bonfire festival every year, and I wouldn't wish to suddenly start mimicking the same year I rise.” He explained. They weren't the Hallows, and he didn't want anyone to start thinking they couldn't think for themselves.


“I'm thinking once a year, we don't need a ceremony to demote people. it's not something to celebrate. He shook his head at her last question. “If they want to remain subservient to the Armada that's the lowest they can fall. But what would you do if our own children stagnate? Would you bend the rules for them, or would you be willing to kick them out?” he pointed out to her. He wouldn't be separating families, but he also couldn't imagine any wolf not already raised to it would be comfortable remaining a slave for long. He thought it should be enough of a threat. They could always add to the foulest jobs on the slaves list…

Mimicking was the highest form of flattery but yes, they didn't want to compete for attendance.

Our own children... It made her heart leap at the idea. She couldn't imagine throwing them out if they decided not to pull their weight, and if she agreed to this plan of placing anyone in Armada into the slave rank... well, her children could very well become slaves but it would be their own fault. She didn't like that idea, but they shouldn't bend the rules around just for their own progeny. It wouldn't be fair, or balanced.

"Hard to imagine..." She said quietly, wrapping her arm around his head now. No more questions and plans. She kissed his nose. The day was getting late and they had jobs to do in the morning.
"I like this." She said, talking things through just the two of them. She wondered if he had more to say, but she wanted to curl up under his chin and sleep.

"Speech"

He could hear the growing sleepiness in her voice and he smiled. He bent his head down and licked her ear. Listening to the dizzy rumble in her tone, and felt a great deal of satisfaction. Their mixed scent permeated the air around him as he rested his head against her little body. 


“Sleep, little love.” He commanded her gently, knowing she was too tired not to comply. “We can work out the details at a later point.” He closed his own eyes, feeling the pull of sleep against him. Her scent was strong, and present. She was here and safe, and for the moment that was all he needed. Tomorrow, tomorrow he would start her training.