A centaur waited at the crossroad deep within the Darkling Wood. His lower extremities were that of a blood bay stallion with black lower legs, while his torso was muscular, the olive skin of his chest visible underneath the patches of coarse black hair. The hair on his head was black, and grew like a mane down his back. The centaur's long pointed ears suggested that he had elvish blood, though his black eyes suggested differently. The centaur waited, his patience diminishing with each passing second.
Finally he heard the nearly silent sound of feet coming towards him. A moment later, a pale man emerged from the woods. The man was tall with white hair that was cropped short. He was dressed simply, in a plain white shirt and dark pants.
“Your messenger said you had some information I would find intriguing.” The centaur said, his voice colored with a tone of boredom as he studied the king of the were-folk.
The centaur heard the sound of paws moving through the undergrowth of the forest, surrounding the area. The king's guard still didn't trust a lone centaur, even when taking into account that the were-king could easily win any fight once shifted to his more feral half.
The king's completely black eyes narrowed disapprovingly as he spoke. “Yes, but this particular bit of information comes at great cost.”
The centaur frowned, but reached for the leather purse hanging from his belt. “How much?”
The were-king smiled, touching his fingertips together. “Twenty-five thousand gold.”
The centaur glared at the were-king, but kept his voice calm.
“Now what kind of information could be worth twenty-five thousand? I'll give you fifteen thousand.”
The were-king smiled and shook his head. “You don't want it enough, Milcarek. Twenty thousand.” The centaur named Milcarek glared angrily at the were-king.
They may have been friends for some time, but there were still times when the were-king would slip into a more kingly attitude.
“Seventeen thousand. Take it or leave it, Ranulf.”
The were-king thought for a moment, then growled in agreement. “The money first, then you'll receive the information.”
Milcarek frowned, pawing the ground with one foreleg. “Now Ranulf, you know the deal. Information, and then the money.” Ranulf frowned slightly, a low rumble emerging from his throat as the were-king began to lose patience, and with it, control.
“Fine.
“A human girl appeared at the edge of our northern border. She's moving north, with only a dog and a knife as protection.”
Milcarek hummed thoughtfully at the information as he tossed the purse to Ranulf. The were-king caught it, and made a quick inspection of its contents. Satisfied, the were-king tucked the purse away. “As always, it's been a pleasure.” Without another word, Ranulf turned and walked into the woods, fading away without a trace.
The centaur listened to the faint footfalls change to something almost like a wolf paws, then disappear completely into the silence of Darkling Wood.
Turning towards the north-western fork of the crossroad, the centaur began down it at a smooth trot. His mind was accompanied by the thoughts of the human girl.
A human, in Terra!
It was an insane notion, one that both excited and terrified Milcarek. Humans in Terra were incredibly rare, and the psych leaders, the Council, normally captured any before they let it be known that a new human had appeared.
But now one had appeared within Darkling Wood, and he was certain that the Council hadn't gotten word about the girl yet.
But it was only a matter of time.
Ranulf may have come to him with the information first, but the were-king knew what kind of power knowledge of the human could bring, and the were-folk were a power-hungry species.
Their monarchy was a perfect example of their lust for power.
Like a pack of beasts, they would fight, often to the death, to settle disputes and kingship.
But Ranulf was wiser then his predecessors, and knew that the best way to keep allies was by dealing with them yourself.
And sharing important information was a good tactic for keeping those allies on your side.
The centaur stopped walking and turned south. Letting out an eerie whistle, he allowed a smile to form as a low, moaning howl sounded in the distance.
The call had been answered.
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