He Did That

Politics. It was a subject that Savard always tried to avoid, whether in public or the privacy of his own mind. Rionnach’s politics were complicated, tied to so many parts of a wolf’s identity. It shaped the choices they made, the wolves they followed, and the lies they believed. Jacobites, Royalists, Voxi… what did they all have in common? Their cause had to have legitimacy, something that it could provide to the common wolf to win them over. The Jacobites, justice, the Royalists, order, and the Voxi, fairness. That’s what it seemed to the reclined observer, of course. It seemed that in Rionnach, to side with one of these three was to give up on the other two virtues. It’s perhaps why Guilders believed in a fourth virtue above all else: profit.

Savard had returned to an old familiar tavern all to himself, a place well visited. It had been the place of some of his most profound exploits as of late. He had met old friends and new, dealt with a sadistic Guilder-turned-officer, and now… contemplated his life choices and political leanings. There was talk, after all, about battles to be fought soon. And at that time, as Savard drank his drink alone, he thought about the healer fae he had met in Sussex not too long before, her paws stained in blood. How weary she looked then, how worn out and tired. It had to have made one think about how difficult these wolves and their virtues made the lives of innocent wolves. Adamh, Jacob, did they care for these wolves at all, Savard wondered? It’s best to ask such questions in the silence of one’s own head, rather than in the bowels of a deep dungeon. Or worse yet, a lake.