Nicon

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

IT WAS LATE December and the cold had already started to settle in.  The stronger men were out in the harsh weather gathering wood to build fires and the women had begun to finish knitting sweaters for their young.

Nicon stood at the top of the large mountain with a smaller, nearly white, wolf to his right side. The wolf hardly stood out against the heavy snow covering the mountain, but his beady dark eyes pierced against his pure colored fur.

"How petty," Nicon commented to the wolf. He watched the humans with calculating eyes, roaming around the busy town with vision greater than perfect. "I have half a mind to slaughter them all now."

A grunt escaped the wolf, a sound torn between a laugh and a snort.

The wind started picking up, blowing small snow particles through the crisp air and Nicon was almost tempted to shift as well, but decided against it. As often as he liked to shift, it was nearly impossible for Nicon to control his wolf's impulses when he did. His human form was the only thing preventing his wolf from massacring the village.

The white wolf's ears suddenly perked up, and he tilted his head to hear the noise better. Suddenly, Nicon heard it as well, a howl.

Shall we go back? The Council has arrived, King Nicon.

Nicon didn't answer. Instead, he briskly turned around and took off at a sprint towards the castle.

The wolf was quick to follow, and while he had the upper hand being in wolf form, Nicon was still faster, his pace nearly impossible for the white wolf to match.

When they reached the castle, Nicon slowed down as he reached the large iron gates. They opened at once, recognizing their King.

The castle was large and gothic, with a tall tower in the center. There were cob webs and oak vines covering the front of the castle underneath the windows, climbing up from the grass below like veins. It was dark and gloomy looking, but then again, it fit Nicon's personality well.

"My King," a guard said, bowing his head as he noticed Nicon walking to the front entrance.

Nicon bowed his head in acknowledgement. He couldn't hear the wolf's small prodding footsteps and was disappointed to find his companion had left.

Two large limousines were idly parked outside the castle along the gravel, and Nicon resisted the urge to growl.

"Who let them inside without my consent?" he boomed, pushing the heavy doors open and letting them slam against the walls.

A guard scurried out into the foyer, his hands clasped apprehensively at his stomach and his eyes squinted in fear. "Your Highness, they refused to take no for an answer."

A snarl ripped from Nicon's throat. "Where are they?"

"I-In the conference room, King Nicon." Nicon could smell the sweat coming off the man and cringed as he smelled excretion coming in high waves off of his soldier.

"Clean yourself up, you mutt," he snapped, stalking off in the direction of the conference room.

He heard chatter coming from inside the room as he approached, and when he threw the large doors open, suddenly the talk stopped.

As Nicon entered, he pushed stray strands of hair from his face, his leather jacket making a crinkling noise from the movement. The men all gazed at him with nervous expressions, for when Nicon was angry, he got ruthless.

"My King-" started an older man.

"Silence." Nicon held a hand up. "The next time you enter my castle without permission, Council or not you will be thrown in the dungeon for trespassing."

The older man swallowed thickly and nodded his head in understanding. The other men followed, nodding their heads to show they comprehended Nicon's terms.

"Now that you understand, please take a seat." The nine men sat simultaneously, not needing Nicon to repeat himself a second time.

There were nine Council members, a representative from each of the nine packs. Land was broken up into nine sectors, and while there was an Alpha for each of the sections, each Alpha reported back to Nicon monthly for updates. King Nicon ruled over all nine territories.

"Could someone inform me on where we are regarding the humans?" Nicon asked, sitting at the head of the table and locking his fingers over the top of the wood.

An Alpha spoke up towards the end of the table, a muscly man who was wearing a button down shirt and slacks. "We've been monitoring them for a few weeks and they are importing silver-tipped weaponry, Your Highness."

Nicon looked feral. "In large quantity?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

He looked to the Alpha sitting next to the one who had previously spoken, and the Alpha pushed his thick rimmed glasses further onto his nose. "They are also importing silver in our area, King Nicon." Many murmurs echoed through the conference room and Nicon held a hand up to still them.

Nicon growled. "They must be receiving knowledge from the inside if they are continuing to raise the amount of silver weaponry. Have there been reports of shifter deaths by these weapons?"

The Alphas looked to each other silently, almost daring one another to speak up first. "Yes, Your Highness."

Releasing another growl, King Nicon sat back in his velvet covered chair. "Then we strike first. Prepare your fighters, we will attack their shipments and cut off their supplies in two weeks time." He glanced at each of the Alphas. "Any objections?"

"No, Your Highness."