Wilder wasn’t sure if Vesper truly didn’t know how to move up from slavery, but if he were being honest, neither did he. What better way to find out the correct answer than to get it directly from the source?

With everything going on in the land, Wilder knew this wasn’t the most important topic or care for the Warlord, but he could also inform him of his findings while out and about as well. Two birds, one stone.

Catching the Warlord as he went from one place to the next, Wilder called out to him with the friendliest tone he could muster. It wasn’t much. “Warlord, I believe we have some catching up to do,” he says as he nears Basilisk, vermilion eyes on the massive wolf.

Basilisks thoughts were a jumbled mess of jobs in need of doing when a voice called out, catching his attention. He looked up and found Wilder seeking him out. He changed course, angling towards the other wolf. “Hello, Wilder. What can I do for you?” He asked. But in truth, he already knew. The other wolf had earned his promotion during the blight. Business, And the fact that the Armada was jumping from one chaos to another was no excuse. Not when it came to the lives of his wolves. Wilder and Bronze. He was glad the moss toned wolf had sought him out and prompted the memory. 

He hadn't been alpha long, but even he understood the concept of happy wolves, happy pack. In fact, he realised he'd just reached his first year. Wherever did the time go?

Wilder dips his head in greeting as the Warlord comes up to him. Coming to a stop, he shifts his weight, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Should they just stay here for the chat or go somewhere else? He wasn’t much for semantics of things so he’d allow Basilisk to make the call.

“I wasn’t sure how much ya knew of what’s happenin’ outside the borders,” Wilder begins tentatively. As much as he’d like to get straight into asking about Vesper and her rank conditions, he knew he’d probably be wasting the Warlord’s time with such trivial nonsense (at least that’s what he believed). “I jus’ returned from scoutin’ the neighborin’ territories. All the animals seem to be gettin’ sick from these weird lookin’ worms. An’ it’s not like the normal kinda worms, these ones are odd an’ make ya almost like infected and crazy.” A shudder rolls down his spine as he remembered the countless animals he saw who had been attempting nonsensical and crazy things. He’d even had to mercy kill a few of them.

“It ain’t safe for anyone to leave if they’re healthy. An’ Oleander or someone who can tell should be checking wolves who come an’ go before they go deeper into pack lands. This sickness spreads like wildfire an’ so far, there ain’ a cure,” his tone turns gravely, terse and worried. If an infected wolf or even prey animal brought it into their lands, it would be much worse than the Blight.

He'd heard some, even secluded as they were in their mountain territory. He and Ignita had investigated some, and he'd set Oleander to investigate others. But so far, it had not followed them home and he'd perhaps foolishly not investigated any further. “You raise some incredibly valid points. I hadn't heard it was infectious, or even that wolves had caught it.” He drummed a claw against the stone for a moment in thought. It wasn't that long ago that the Armada was fighting against the Blight. Now this? He was worried for his wolves. 


He'd get Ignita to help him map out where to stick the checkpoints, and who to rotate onto it. Once Oleander had had time to discuss it with Wilder, they could properly design the measures that they should take. “I'll hold a meeting with Ignita, which you're welcome to join, however I'd like you to debrief Oleander first. And… Wilder. You earned the right to a higher rank with your actions in the blight. Consider a reasonable rank you feel would fit and we can talk about it when you're ready.”