This post is the next instalment in the tales set in the Bronze Age of my homebrew B&D world. It's not the sequel I had planned to write, but when I saw the prompt Worldbuilding Prompt #964 - Pests in the Worldbuilding community, my brain did a backflip and produced this story...
In case you haven't read it, the previous episode was The Twin's Blade where Kallicreon, disguised as the lame chalkophoros (bronze smith) Creon tried to implement his revenge scheme to kill his brother with a cursed sword. But his brother's infant and rather brattish son seized the sword thinking it was his new toy and was slain by it instead.
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
By the time Creon limped his way through the sturdy gates of the town of Monwa, he was exhausted. He'd fled Zarat two weeks hence, evading the Royal Guards searching for the man who had murdered the heir to the throne.
There followed a fortnight of hobbling through wild countryside, avoiding greenmen and greymen, living on what he could forage and drinking from the streams he waded through. The one thing about his disguise that wasn't faked was his lameness, caused by the chariot crash his treacherous twin brother had engineered.
But King Kallicrates of Zarat had sent messengers around the nearby cities and towns, promising a reward for any who would deliver the man who had killed his son. Or his head at least. He was little concerned with what happened to the rest of his target.
So the guards were happily seizing anyone who came to Monwa with any kind of infirmity of gait. They grabbed Creon without even asking his name.
For a month, he rotted in a cell beneath the Royal Palace of Monwa. The food, poor as it was, was probably better than what he'd caught traversing the grasslands. The water was not so good, but he was able to slake his thirst with a trickle of water that seeped through the rough-hewn rock wall of his cell.
Finally he was dragged in front of the King, Potidion by name. This king was older than Creon by a decade or more. He studied the ragged figure that had been thrown at the foot of his dais.
"Are you the one who murdered a prince of Zarat ?" he asked, with a tone of curiosity. His guards had presented a score of likely suspects before this one, but all had been very obviously not the one being sought.
Despite his exhaustion, Creon lifted his head and smiled. "It was not murder. I killed a prince, but I meant to murder a king. A king who richly deserved it."
"Hah ! Honesty and defiance all in one admittedly rather smelly package. I like it !"
"If you choose to hand me over to that usurper, your majesty, I ask only one thing. Let it be unbound and with a sword in my hand, that I might seek justice."
Potidion sat for a long while, deep in thought.
Finally he spoke. "I have no great love for Zarat. But I cannot harbour one accused of murder without good reason. So let me make you this offer. Give me reason, and you can live here in Monwa in peace and under my protection for as long as you wish."
It was an unexpected offer. Creon knew that by the unwritten code that governed relations between the various city states, this was the way it had to be.
"Thank you, your majesty. Your wisdom and generosity humbles me. Do you have a particular thing in mind that would give you reason to grant me sanctuary ?"
The two men, king and fugitive, shared a smile. Potidion had clearly already had something in mind, and Creon knew that whatever it was wouldn't be easy. Otherwise the men of Monwa would already have done it. Each knew that the other was a canny schemer, and they recognised kindred spirits when the saw them.
"My shepherds like to graze their flocks on the footslopes of the Mountain nearby, called by the shortfolk who live there Vounisiovouno. But there is a terrible giant wolf they call Lycovouno which slaughters sheep and shepherds alike. Slay the wolf and you may live here in peace."
Creon bowed, and was led away by the guards to be cleaned up and prepared for his task. It was nice to have decent food again.
Three days later he set off for the pastures. He had no sword, but had been lent a helmet, breastplate, spear and buckler by Licrates, the captain of the Royal Guard. He also took a parcel of dried beef with him, as he had no idea how long this would take and was determined not to go hungry again.
The mountain's foothills were rugged, with small pasture fields separated from each other by ridges of jagged rocks, the remains of lava flows in the distant past.
There were no shepherds or sheep to be seen; they cowered on distant fields, too afraid to come up here was the grass was more lush and greener. So Creon moved from field to field, looking for tracks or traces of his quarry.
It was hard going, and his lame leg pained him as he moved over the rough ground. He had to take frequent breaks to rest.
It was during one of those breaks that he became aware of movement behind him. Right behind him. Soft paws, heavy breath.
Putting his hand down to his spear, he turned slowly, and found himself looking up into the eyes of the hugest wolf he'd ever seen. It was far more massive than he'd imagined. He had expected a normal-sized but extra ferocious predator. But this monstrosity was easily seven feet tall from the bottom of it's paws to the top of it's spine.
But it didn't attack, not right away. It stared at him with hostility, but it seemed also with intelligence.
Creon kept a firm grip on his spear, but didn't immediately lift it. It seemed pointless, like using a matchstick to row a galley. This grey monster could rip him asunder any time it chose to.
Knowing this, Creon chuckled to himself. Perhaps that wily Potidion had set this up as a way to get rid of an inconvenient visitor without incurring a blood debt.
The humour of it appealed to him. He had to admire such cunning.
With no hope, he did the first thing that came into his mind.
"Nice doggy," he said with a laugh. "Want some beef ?"
He tossed the packet of dried beef at the beast. It looked at him, blinked twice and wolfed the meat down in a single bite.
Then it did the unexpected. It lifted a paw up and held it out to Creon. What it revealed was a splinter of jagged rock stuck in the pad, bleeding and inflamed.
Convinced that he was going to die anyway, the man reached out, held the paw and gently said, "This is going to hurt, but just for a short while."
Then he pulled the rock shard out. The giant wolf didn't even whimper. Creon felt it shudder with the pain, but that was all. So he tore a strip from his cloak and wrapped it around the wound to keep it clean and give it some protection. Then he waited for the monster to snap his head off.
It didn't.
Three days later, the people of Monwa were amazed to see Creon walk back into town with the massive wolf trotting along beside him like a puppy.
Potidion came out of the palace to greet them. he had a huge grin on his face.
"Welcome back, my friend. It's true, I thought you'd die and rid me of a diplomatic problem. But it's also true I hoped you would somehow slay the wolf and solve a more immediate and bigger problem. Now, to see you return with your new companion, well that's a better outcome than I could have imagined ! I knew you were something very special when you first looked up and defied me when no-one else dares to."