The transition from chaos to conquest was swift. Once Roy and his elite unit had breached the interior, the momentum shifted like a furious landslide.
The feline army wasted no time securing the Margay Tribe's holding in the name of their King. High above the scorched gate, they hoisted a heavy, brown leather banner, the hide scarred with the jagged, vertical claw marks of the ruler of Claw Kingdom.
Minutes later, a second banner rose, snapping sharply in the humid jungle breeze. This one belonged to Roy. It was a beautiful piece of stretched leather, dyed in a magnificent, royal shade of purple that stood out against the jungle's greens. Positioned regally upon the middle, were his own claw marks.
As one of the few Black Panther beastkin left in existence, and the undisputed 5-Star warrior of the realm, Roy was more than a soldier; he was the unanimously voted representative of the felines within Claw Kingdom.
It was just a shame that the females of his species and every other species that mated with him found it difficult to bare cubs of the panther kind. If there were more of them, Roy felt like he wouldn't have to work as hard.
The land now belonged to the King, but Roy's hands were still stained with unfinished business. He had only completed half of his duties. He still had to collect the "Pride of the Margays" the princess who will serve as the Kingdom's ultimate prize for a competition of strength and deliver her to the Main City.
Roy let a small, predatory smile grace his lips. He was weary of the humidity and the incompetence of his sub-commanders; he couldn't wait for his duties to be over. Once he had secured the unruly female princess, he could finally turn his full attention to his true prey.
Whether it was a male, a female, or a wild beast that had dared to strike him earlier, he was ready to get even.
Many kilometers away, a cold shiver ran down Eris's spine. She felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, an omnious warning that she was being watched by a mind as sharp as her own.
She looked at the exhausted, dust covered faces of her tribesmen huddling in the hidden ravine. They were safe for the moment, but the safety was fragile. Taking a deep breath to steady her shaking hands, she hatched a new plan, a desperate gamble.
She would send a selected few back into the holding through a secondary crawlspace to rescue those left behind, while she led the rest further into the deep bush. Allowing them to flee towards freedom and never turn back.
She began rummaging through a discarded pile of furs, feathers, and tribal regalia. Eris knew the world saw her as a mere "prize" to be won, but she was of a different opinion. She yearned to have her opinions heard as an equal rather as a female to be protected and fawned upon. She refused to yield.
She was ready to show the bastards of Claw Kingdom that a Margay's spirit, especially one from the princess, was not so easily caged. Neither was a female so easily won with just brute force, invasions were not on their list of wanted romantic courting gifts.
Back at the captured holding, the search of the Tribal Chief's living quarters had been fruitful. A handful of servants and aides had been dragged from the shadows and pushed into a tight, trembling circle in the central plaza.
The fortress itself was a marvel of primitive engineering. It had been built directly into the face of a massive cave to expand the living quarters, hiding an elaborate network of rooms and ventilation tunnels within. It was a structure fitting for a tribe leader.
Roy gave a small, silent nod of approval. He respected the intelligence behind the architecture; it was promising to see tribes moving forward and improving the quality of life, even in these isolated sectors.
The world was changing.
The age where the old, the young or all of those in between had to live in damp caves and sleep in the open dangers were now long gone.
There was technology being invented. A use of multiple talents and more, to create better living standards for all. Roy felt himself fill with excitement for the future.
Some beastkin tribes had expanded to over 10,000 members, building what could truly be called cities. Claw Kingdom, despite having only 7,500 beastmen, was considered the pinnacle of these cities due to its technological advances and superior warfare tactics.
Smaller tribes, like the Margays, were still viewed as primitive because they relied on wood, mud, and cave-tunnelling.
Roy felt a small, tingling excitement bubble within him. The King had promised him these lands once they were conquered, and he was ready to bring in these new technologies and structures to benefit the livelihood of all beastkin who apply to live within these walls.
To be Lord of his own domain meant he could implement the technologies of the City here without having to ask, beg even, for permission. The need to upgrade the living standards and turning this primitive cave-fortress into a bastion of power chewed into his soul.
His daydream was rudely interrupted by Bryant. His temporary second-in-command blurted out, "This one is an Elder! He worked closely with the Margay leader and told Warrior August all about the leader's family!"
With a sneer of arrogance, Bryant shoved a frail, elderly beastman toward Roy. The elderly male stumbled, his knees hitting the dirt. Roy felt his brows knit in immediate displeasure, he loathed unnecessary cruelty toward the weak and the aged. Yet, he refused to allow any opportunity for gossip by repremanding his men in front of strangers.
"I did not! I do not talk to strays," protested the elder, Otis. He pulled his threadbare shawl tighter around his thin shoulders. "I don't even know anyone named August. May the Goddess strike me dead if I withhold the truth!"
Otis was lying, of course. Deep down, he felt a swell of defiant pride, he was protecting his tribe now. Not all possessed the courage to lie to a warrior in such dire circumstances.
He prayed silently that the Goddess would forgive his deception under such dire circumstances. He kept his eyes averted, focusing on the dirt and the boots of the eager young soldier who was trying to tear the clothes off his back.
"Yes, you did!" Bryant countered, his voice rising in frustration. "Warrior August was the first warrior to take on the challenge of securing this holding and capturing your princess. Do not lie to us!"
"Is that the Leopard beastman who left with an arrow stuck to his backside and walked away with a noticeable limp?" Otis asked, a sudden, sharp smirk cutting through his aged features.
Bryant purpled with rage, glaring at Otis for daring to mention August's humiliation. August was supposed to be a hero of the Kingdom, not a laughingstock.
Before the duo could continue their bickering, another soldier stepped in, grabbing Otis by the shoulder and forcing him to turn around.
As the old man's head snapped up, his eyes widened. The smirk vanished instantly. He was no longer looking at a bickering subordinate; he was facing Roy.
The Black Panther stood like a statue of obsidian, the purple banner snapping behind him, his golden eyes burning with an intelligence that seemed to read the very secrets Otis was trying so hard to hide.