Skoll had been sparring with the wooden dummies when the call came. He dealt a powerful blow to the head of the target, stinging his hand with the force, and then swung around when the howl sounded from the amphitheater. It was not his father’s voice, nor was it the Dauphin’s (although he hadn’t heard Strelein summon the pack for a very long time, if at all), and so he was inclined to ignore it in favor of getting his daily training in. The authority in the call made him hesitate to do so, however, and he figured that if even a normal pack member needed help, he should be there to offer it to them. Gods knew he needed to make up for his weeks of excluding himself from pack duties.
The young man made his way as quickly as one could in their optime form without sprinting, loping steadily through the territory until he reached the back seats of the amphitheater. When he saw the former Crimson Dreamer standing on the stage, he cocked his head with confusion but smiled. He’d decided that he liked the Sadira—one with the heart of a knight like he aspired to be. The stubborn child in him decided he wasn’t going to just plop his butt down on a seat, and so he hung around at the back while the group congregated, folding his arms and being careful not to stare at another Courtier for too long; he didn’t want to risk gawking at Hati, especially since they’d never truly apologized to each other about their violent scuffle.
Once everyone seemed to be gathered, Silvano spoke, and the smile on the young Haskel’s face vanished to be replaced with shock. His ears folded back, and his arms loosened across his chest. What had Strelein done to be demoted to the omega rank? He knew the man had been distant lately, but he hadn’t been around him enough to know of his drinking problems. Strel had simply been an entity in his pack close to his father when he was a child, and now that this was changing, a small shot of fear flashed through the yellow werewolf.
And then the rest of the news came. Strelein had been usurped by Silvano, who now led as the Constable—a position Skoll’s father had served in before he became King. His ears folded back even tighter, threatening to disappear in his wild blond mane, but he simply tightened his claw-grip on his biceps and stared.
Perhaps this was supposed to be something to be celebrated—a new leader, and a very strong and honorable one, Skoll could admit. But, after his fight with Hati over their sibling hierarchy, he wasn’t so sure he liked this as much as he would have. There had been so many shifts of power within his family, and to see them in the rest of the pack didn’t bode well. Besides, Silvano was good and strong but he was so new to the pack; wouldn’t someone else be better suited? Like Niro—if Niro were not injured. Perhaps Alder? Would quiet Alder want the job? He gritted his teeth. Dare he say that he’d want to be the Constable?
Silvano opened for questions, and Skoll was not shy about taking that offer seriously. He took only a second to gather his thoughts before he spoke, loud enough to be heard from the very back. “What are you going to do now?” It might have sounded strange, but the Lieutenant really wanted to know; what could they expect now that Silvano had come to power? He wasn’t going to just sit idly after taking the position of a subleader, was he?
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