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.”

Wilder watches the Warlord carefully. He didn't know the male incredibly well, but respected him nonetheless. There was a clear reason why he was in charge of the Armada. Basilisk had taken him in during his worst moment in life and he would repay the Warlord back ten fold. At least he could be righteous about that.

His brows raise, a thoughtful hum in his throat. "Yeah, I'll join," he nods, confirming that being included in the meeting would be a good idea. His own paranoia of the sickness spreading had forced him to scout, to look, to travel. Being back in the Armada made him nervous at times when he could be doing something to actually help out there. Something, something, about being a sitting duck.

He opened his mouth to also confirm he'd debrief Oleander in the meantime, but it cut short as Basilisk informs him that he was due for a promotion after his contribution during the Blight. Speechless and wide-eyed, Wider stared at the Warlord. A promotion? Already for him? It takes him a moment, but he blinks a few times and swallows loudly.

"Well, I appreciate it sir," he says, wanting to smile, but it brings him back around to why he was also calling for the Warlord's attention. Clearing his throat, he took a step closer, meeting Basilisk's gaze. "Erm, there's somethin' else I wanted to talk to ya 'bout while ya got a minute," Wilder starts, feeling awkward, but there was no turning back now.

He filed that away, reminding himself to let Wilder know when the meeting happened so that he could attend. He needed to get Ignita up to speed as well. He was worried about the state of the world, and what it meant for the Armada. Promoting Wilder was also a way of strengthening the pack. He was clearly practical and his initiative was useful. Rising him in the ranks put him to where his abilities could contribute the best.

He would just need to figure out the best place to place Wilder, and that would help if the wolf had some ideas on what he wanted. The conversation however, changed as Wilder admitted to another request, but didn’t immediately get into it. If anything, he looked nervous. Basilisk raised a brow in curiosity. Was this about a girl? The pack had enough room a litter, through he hadn’t noticed the younger wolf courting anybody.


"Speech"

Silence paired with a raised brow was a good thing, right? Wilder's own brows notch together for a brief moment before he pushes forward. "Ya so, I jus' wanted to ask. What's the low down on the whole slave business an' how they become not slaves?" His head tilts momentarily, clearly showing his confusion and curiosity. Was it normal for members to ask of such things or to keep their noses out of it? Surely it wouldn't hurt to retrieve information that everyone should know about... If one could rise in the ranks then surely they would be able to lower down the same ladder.

Basilisk’s confusion only grew. Why was Wilder of all wolves looking for clarification of the rules of slavery or perhaps the wolf was eyeing up one of the higher ranks in the Armada. The General rank, for example, would need a good understanding of how the slave dynamic worked. But was Wilder ready for one of the highest ranks in the pack? He was clever, but he didn’t strike Basilisk as much of a fighter.

Nonetheless, Basilisk dutifully gave him what information he could. “Well. The slave rank in the Armada is essentially a learning roll. Any wolf with ambition and initiative can work their way out of it. One of the fastest, but hardest paths to freedom would be to challenge me, or the General when one is appointed, for freedom. The second is to learn a skill. For example, Teegra is learning cooking and healing. If she decides to find her freedom through healing, then ultimately it would be up to Oleander. He would assess her and report to me when he feels she is ready to move up in rank, and if I agree then she will become a Medic.” His eyes were on Wilder, trying to figure out where the other wolf was coming from. “Does this give you the information you're looking for?”


"Speech"

Wilder knew the Warlord would be confused by the question, but appreciated the response nonetheless. Listening carefully to the explanation, his brows drew together slowly. He couldn’t stop the question from leaving his mouth. “So, why are they called slaves? Ain’t the whole purpose of slaves to keep them for yerself for forever?” His head cants slightly, not judging the Warlord for the wording, just confused why they would allow traditional slaves such an opportunity. It hardly made sense to snub them into the ground by calling them slaves, but then boosting them up by allowing them to rank out of the slave roll.

“Thank you for answering. I don’t mean to question your rank system, was just curious. Lately, I’ve been helping out Oleander with training that Songbird he’s got, Vesper. She don’t quite get why it’s worth working toward somethin’ other than a slave so I wanted to get a better understandin’,” he quickly explained his reasoning so that Basilisk didn’t suspect that he was trying to challenge Armada’s ways. Not that he agreed that they should be called slaves, but he could work on that sort of phrasing in the future.

Basilisk smiled, though there was nothing mocking in it. He understood Wilder's confusion. “The slave rank was made by my grandfather, and the rules around it are to honour the past. He himself was born a slave, from a long line of slaves. The kingdom who owned him fell, and it's princess later became an empress in her own right. It was her who granted Sirius his freedom, feeling that he had earned it. He believed that slaves should have the right to earn their freedom, if they had the right mind for it. Those that don't will remain slaves for the rest of their lives. But the ones with initiative, they can carve a new path for themselves. I've honored this tradition.” He explained, giving Wilder some of the history of the original Warlord so he could grasp the reason properly. 


Wilder then thanked him, and explained that he in turn had been helping with the training of Oleander's slave. The Warlord smiled at his hunters' initiative. He liked to see it, to hear the man was putting in the work. “If she doesn't see the point, then she is likely one of the wolves who won't build their way into a new future, but I appreciate the effort you put in.”