It had been a few days since anyone had been able to see the chief. All who had sought him were told he was sick, so much so that kobels feared for his life.
With so much done by the captives and tributaries the tribe only had to plan for its own leisure. Still, questions remained, especially regarding the keep, so much so that soon they turned to Tuorka to get the chief to answer.
And Tuorka, rather than ask, simply forced his way in.
He came out a bit later to announce that the chief would meet no one but Tunu.
So of course, Savae went with him.
The two champions entered the small enclosed garden in which, lying on the cushions of a daybed, waited the old kobel.
He barely paid attention at the two of them. The servants around him waited in silence, ready to serve fruits or wine on demand. But all he would do was fix the sky, clear of clouds, while keeping an arm over his forehead.
"Everyone is worried about you, Kreil." Tunu told him.
"I can't bring myself to care anymore." The chief answered, his voice equal. "The tribe needs a new leader. They need you, Tunu."
"Nonsense! I don't know the first thing about leading! I'm not like you!"
"Just fake it. It's how I do it. Fake it. Think of the tribe, say what others want to hear and you'll do great. But Tunu, you have scales. You don't even have to fake anything. You already are our new chief, whether you want it or not."
There was much more to leading but at its core, a chief was the tribe's voice. What he said was what everyone wanted, so that everyone knew what was in others' heart, so that they all walked as one.
A champion gave the example in battle for the warriors to stand. A shaman guided the rest in the uncertainty of the realm.
A chief ended quarrels by pure conviction.
And conviction was exactly what Tunu lacked. Like all kobels, he cared for the tribe, deeply; and he had his dreams but to put them in words, to know what to do, that was where he crumbled.
So he pleaded: "Kreil! You're no fake, you are the man! You are our soul, you've always been right at every step of the way! We need you more than ever!"
That only made the lying kobel chuckle.
"Savae is more clear-eyed. Right?"
She had stood back near the garden's door. Arms crossed, the warrior wore a mocking smile.
"Tunu is so soft." She chipped. "I can kill you for him."
"Don't even think about it!"
"What? It's the order of things. The old gives way to the young. If you were a real kobel, you would have finished him already."
He was about to get up and walk to face her but the old kobel held Tunu's arm.
"Calm down. She just wants to rile you up, you know that. What she means is I'm getting old and distracted." He sneered. "Distracted... If I slip, the whole tribe suffers. So think of the tribe, Tunu. We can't wait until that happens."
"We can!"
And the scaled kobel took that arm holding him to drag the chief back up.
"As your chief I order you to keep leading us! Until I tell you to stop, keep doing it! Why does anything have to change?! Everything is going so well and it feels like the whole realm is crumbling!"
"The realm is always crumbling around us. You'll get used to it."
They would have continued but for Tuorka coming back in the garden, a couple servants trailing him, unable to stop the old champion.
He took a glance at the whole scene, then sternly announced:
"Warriors from the keep. You might want to hear them."
That made the chief inhale, roll his eyes and give out a long, long breath. Every single fiber of his body was beyond exasperated.
"They are literally the best among us, what has them so concerned that they could possibly need me for?!"
And the chief got up, stormed past the three of them to meet the group of armed kobels.
They wanted to break in the keep.
If the main tower was reserved to Etelet and those he chose, the rest was still used as stores and quarters. So the warriors could hear rumors through the walls, and those alone had their imagination working.
But what alarmed them was that the few kobels in there had stopped showing up.
It was naturally kobels that would guard the entrance, transmit messages or organize the captives. At times they would come out, enjoy the fresh air, discuss with those around, maybe do some errands. Any excuse to escape what they described as an oppressive atmosphere.
That had stopped entirely.
So if no one checked on them the warriors swore that they would. To see the tower's door handled only by savages now had the kobels furious.
It was enough to get Tunu worried as well.
So they went. The chief at their helm, Tunu followed up the path, with the warriors, with Savae while Tuorka, once at the wall's gate, remained behind. From there, up a tower, it was almost possible to see the beast tied on the keep's roof.
The cold had truly killed the fields of flowers around, leaving meager grass for sole cover.
As they approached they saw another crowd of warriors, all in arms, wearing helmets and cuirasses, holding swords, axes and spears. They were indeed on a warpath. Some besieged the tower's entrance that had been closed shut.
One warrior was particularly agitated. The kobel had scars: his friend had been among those allowed inside.
"He is still in there! I want to see him now!"
"If those beasts did anything to us, we'll murder the whole of them!"
The old kobel got angry.
"This is Etelet you are talking about! Our shaman is hard at work."
"We haven't seen him either!" Two warriors talked over each other to say. "Chief, who knows if he is still alive!"
Tunu lost it at those words. He ran to the door, forced it open with the kind of strength that had the lock shatter. The wood was so heavy and yet he dragged the panel a good way out to look inside.
What his horns had already perceived through that thick wood and stone became much more real. A surge of senses throughout the whole floor and another above.
He could feel the presence of those savages, captive or free, roaming by the dozens inside. And he could not hear any voice nor even guess any shape that could have been a kobel.
There was rage building in him.
But the chief, once more, put a hand on his shoulder.
"Trust Etelet. He is no idiot, and he is used to dealing with that filth. We told him we would not enter, remember?"
A few fighters, mostly wulvers, had approached with spears to block the passage. At the sight of the scaled kobel, though, they wavered. Their weapons touched the ground.
None would oppose them, whatever anyone had said.
And Tunu, on edge, was still fighting between the urge to storm in, find out about his friend; or hold true to his promise.
So he watched Savae calmly walk in, push aside one wulver with but a finger, turn to the kobels to ask: "Are you coming?" And keep going by herself.