Hans Draiger. 11 Sextilis, 1582 AAA. Foothold.

“Woose, although many consider them human owing to their human-like visage and intelligence, are not in fact truly human, but rather a species of humanlike beings-demi-humans, one might say-created before the original human. This can be evidenced in many ways. In a cross between human and woose, it is common, especially when the male woose impregnates the human female, for either conception to never happen or the child to be miscarried”

Ciornio of Ararta, A Discourse on Humanity and the Divine.

“So, to reiterate. Three wyverns were killed, likely in cold blood, seven miles north of here. And what do you think the response should be? To do nothing?” Hans said as he stood before Foothold’s town hall.

“Let me get this straight.” Old Bran, the town baker, spoke up. “You want us to get up in arms because a couple of scalies in service to the Commonwealth got nailed? Really?”. The man was notable for his disdain for anything that wasn’t human. And he had a rather narrow definition of human.

Draiger sighed in frustration. “So what if they fought for the Commonwealth? Plenty of us fought for the Commonwealth against Teres, back in 67’. Doesn’t mean we all deserve to get killed”

A few people, Eidre and her husband Lorne amongst them, called out “Hear, hear”. The rest were silent or booed.

“I don’t give a damn. They’re still wyverns fighting for the lobsters(1). Might be the Commonwealth saved us from Teresian tyranny. Fat lot of good that did us, since we’re under Commonwealth tyranny now” Bran yelled back.

“And what if the Teresians try and invade again, and we’ve alienated the wyverns and are independent from the Commonwealth?” Eidre asked.

“We’ll throw them back with horse, pike and shot, same as we did last time” Connor Ferrene answered. He was one of the town’s militia sergeants, and looked the part-a tall, burly, red headed man.

Hans was beginning to think that Uln wasn’t missing out on much. As a woose, she wasn’t technically a citizen of Foothold, and therefore couldn’t attend town hall meetings. Hans didn’t normally attend either, but this time around they’d decided that trying to get something done trumped solidarity.

“You forgot the Commonwealth airships and West Point wyverns. They won that battle, not us” Lorne said.

Hans tried to raise his voice above the noise.

“Listen! If we don’t bring the killers to justice, the wyverns will. And they will bring justice with fire and talon, not with judge and jury”

“We can take them” said Connor Ferrene again.

“Yeah, kill the scalies” someone else yelled, and then the whole hall was a cacophony of noise.

“They had it coming if they wanted to fight for the Commonwealth!”

“I’ll kill them all myself!” screamed one of the youths at the back of the hall.

“With my pocket knife!” someone else yelled.

“Eyes on the prize. We should turf out the bloody Commonwealth” growled an old woman sitting near the front.

“Hell, let’s declare war now and get it over with”. The man who’d said that stood up and hefted his musket. Everyone in the room was armed with muskets, bills, pikes or longbows; a town hall meeting doubled as a militia muster, and they had an alarming habit of turning into riots.

Another stood up, and then half the town was standing, waving muskets and swords and bills.

Hans shouted out “You people want murder and war?”, his voice shaking as he realized he could be moments away from getting tarred and feathered.

“Silence!” Adair Ap Caradoc, Militia Captain and Justice of the Peace walked to the front of the hall, his stiff maroon corpcoat rustling.

“Now, Hans Draiger here has kindly informed us of a certain incident, probably of little import. I have received news of something rather more important. Last night, Fort Highhome was raided, both the wardens knocked on the head-though they are quite unharmed-and all its guns taken”

Hans gulped as he realized that Highhome was less than ten miles from where he’d found the wyverns dead.

Why didn’t I think of that connection?

“Now, either the Commonwealth or some militia or another did this act. If it is the Commonwealth, then I deplore them killing their own fighters in order to steal weapons that are the rightful property of the people of Carfane. If it is a militia, well, they are now the proud owners of several eighteen pounder siege guns, and I must congratulate them for taking their defence into their own hands, whether against Teres, wyverns, woose or the Commonwealth”

“So you’re fine with murdering wyverns and bludgeoning innocent watchmen unconscious?” Hans snapped.

“Now, don’t jump to conclusions, we don’t know the circumstances of the deaths. As to other matters, we received this petition, put out by the Patriot’s Brigade protesting the occupation of Trackford” Adair said in his most condescending voice.

Hans returned to his seat, shaking with frustration and red with humiliation.

“The petition?” Adair continued, nodding to a couple of servants in half plate who stood near the hall’s doors, holding the longest roll of paper Hans had ever seen.

They passed him the paper, and he unrolled it while clearing his throat. “We, the People of Carfane, condemn the illegal occupation of Trackford, the Commonwealth use of convict labour, thus denying honest people jobs, the many unfair tariffs, the lack of parliamentary representation…”. It went on and on like that, listing a long series of grievances.

None of them involved triple murder, as far as he could tell.

Finally, Adair called for the petition to be signed.

The entire town filed up, the literate signing in their names, the illiterate signing it with crude marks.

Hans very pointedly remained seated.

The looks he received didn’t help with the feeling he was about to be run out on a rail.

When it was done, Adair boasted that they’d added two hundred signatures to the petition.

Hans left early, hoping to avoid getting caught up in the hubbub of people leaving. He loathed crowds.

He squinted against the glare of sunlight reflecting from the snow. Spring was coming, and that meant him and Uln would need to be getting ready for trapping season. They spent winter based out of Foothold, doing odd jobs for people who didn’t want to risk travelling in the depths of winter; while summer would be spent out in the wilds, hunting for fur and feathers to clothe the aristocracy of Genia, and trading with isolated squatters and Woose clans.

He found Uln sitting by a tree in the public gardens, one of the few unused plots of land in Trackford.

“You were right. They didn’t give a damn” he said as he walked up to her. She was carving another kill marking into the stock of her musket.

She looked over and smiled when she saw him coming, pulling a clump of red hair out of her face. Most people thought of the Woose as being ugly, but Hans thought her, if not beautiful, then attractive in a rather rugged way.

She stood up, dusting snow off her knee length skirts and leggings.

“It was worth a shot” said Uln.

“I know. But they were going mad in there. Some of them wanted to kill all the wyverns…”

“Fuck, I reckoned it was only squatters who wanted to do that” Uln said.

“Yeah, me too. Bloody idiots. West Point is the only reason we aren’t under Teresian rule right now”

“Good chance that the dead ‘verns were a local job, then” Uln said.

“Someone hit the fort at Highome and took all the artillery. They’re probably connected”

“So we just see who has a couple of cannons in their barn, and we have the killers. Fuckin’ easy”

Hans laughed. “When you put it that way…”

“Draiger?” someone called out behind him.

“Yeah?” Uln asked.

“I wasn’t talking to you” the person said.

Hans turned around, and faced Aled, Eidre’s son.

Aled was tall and blonde, with his mother’s smooth features. He had a black feathered cloak around his shoulders.

One day Hans would have to take him aside and explain the origins and importance of that particular garment.

“Sure I’m a Draiger” Uln said.

“Fine then. Hans Draiger?” Aled repeated.

“Yes?” Hans said, anger tinging into his voice.

“About those wyverns. Why do you reckon we should give a damn? They ain’t human. Just smart animals”

“What?” Hans said, too baffled to say much else.

“I’m saying, they’re smart animals, not humans. Like the difference between you and your Woose”

“Did you just call me an animal?” Uln said.

“Yes” Aled said, smirking.

She grinned. “Yeah, I am. So are you. So is Hans. We all are”

“Aled?” someone asked.

Hans looked up. Eidre and Lorne, armoured and on horseback, with a dozen other armed servants surrounding them. Barely ten yards away.

Aled turned around. “Yes, mother?”

Eidre and Lorne trotted up to them, their armour rattling.

“Did I ever tell you that antagonizing people who’ve faced far more dangerous things than boys with rapiers is a bad idea?”

“Why do think I was antagonizing them?” Aled asked. “I was just asking some questions.”

Eidre rolled her eyes.

“Did you get the sicklehawk?” Lorne asked.

“Yeah, we found the bodies when it went to scavenge on them. Easier than I thought it would be to take it down, actually” Hans said.

Eidre nodded. “I’ll have your payment ready tonight. I’ll have more work for you, if you’re interested”

“Better than sitting around watching snow melt.”

“Alright. This about the wyverns, or something else?”

“Turn up and see” Lorne said.

1: OTL, this was slang during the English civil war for 3/4th armoured cuirassiers, and during the American revolution, redcoats, both from the colour of their coats and their bloody backs after flogging. Here, the Commonwealth has both red coated infantry and heavily armoured cavalry, so it’s an obvious nickname for their military.