Anyone Will Do
The king had appeared.
It dragged a great storm through werewolf society. The hour had come, at last, to lay to rest a longing they had carried through long ages.
The king. Our king.
A phantasm out of legend—something they had only ever imagined.
Werewolf hearts pounded.
When the first word of him arrived, most of them refused to believe it. It was too sudden. That he should appear so easily. Their sense of the real went numb, and their minds sat blank.
Had it not been for Elder Wildflower, the blue wildflower of the plain, they would have wasted meaningless years trying to tell truth from falsehood.
No longer.
They wanted to see the king. They wanted to find him truly—the king handed down from the generations before them—and look upon his face.
Hot-blooded youths slipped away without leave. The old liquidated what they owned and made ready to depart. They cast aside the homes of a lifetime as if the leaving cost them nothing, and set out for the king.
But the command Elder Wildflower brought stopped them where they stood.
Whoever strikes me down shall become the new king.
The first order they had ever received from their king. An order they could not make sense of—and still an order that set a fire in the werewolf heart.
"Ah!"
"This is our king!"
"So warlike!"
"So great of heart!"
"His Majesty means to prove himself!"
Those who knew nothing of the clan's inner troubles praised the king's daring. Those who still had their wits about them read a heavy air in the command.
And so, on the seventh day after the king's order came down, werewolves carrying their separate thoughts arrived in Korea.
"The air is foul……. Next to the steppe, this might as well be garbage."
Last Day's Sunlight clicked his tongue as he came out of the airport. A nose dozens of times keener than an ordinary person's sifted the fine dust and exhaust from the air moment by moment.
"Wherever nature has been destroyed, it is the same. Hectic. Unpleasant. This place is worse than most."
Thunder's Footsteps knit his brow.
Last Day's Sunlight's eyes flushed red.
"If I had my way, I would make the air like the steppe's."
"Compose yourself. This airport is already on high alert, thanks to a pack of lunatics. Look there."
Armed police prowled every corner of the terminal, hawks' eyes raking the crowd. Nearly ten of them stood in plain sight.
"You are afraid of them?"
"I am saying there is nothing to be gained from a pointless scene. And snuff out that killing intent. You are drawing eyes."
"Tsk."
Last Day squeezed his eyes shut. The pupils that had burned mad and red returned to what they had been.
"Hoo."
"Bear it a little longer. The hour to let that frenzy loose will come soon enough."
"I want to see the king. Soon. Otherwise something truly terrible may happen."
A voice spoke at their backs. "And what terrible thing would that be."
"……!"
Last Day and Thunder spun.
"A pleasure to see the two of you again. Thunder. Last Day."
"Wildflower……."
A groan slipped out of Thunder. They had been taken from behind, and the fact sat in him like rot.
The blue wildflower of the plain lifted the corner of his mouth.
"Thunder, why not take the murder out of your eyes? Or were you hoping I would open another hole—on the other side of your ribs?"
"Grrrr. You bastard……."
This was the man who had planted an unforgettable scar in Thunder's flank. The shame of it had never left him. It lived on as a nightmare.
On an ordinary day Thunder would have let a jab like that pass. Now his temper was somewhat raised—no. Far past somewhat.
All the trouble he had taken to settle Last Day might as well have been nothing. He wanted to end it here: he and Wildflower, to the death.
"Wildflower. Did you come out to meet us?"
Last Day, reading the air, tucked him away behind his own back. At the ridiculous sight of the two of them shielding one another, Wildflower sneered inwardly and went on.
"I did. I have been receiving the elders as they arrive. The two of you are the last."
He jerked his chin toward what waited behind him.
A large tour bus sat in the parking lot, and across it hung a sentence the size of a barn door.
Elders—get on. Now.
"……That is our transport?"
"Were you hoping for a limousine? Look at the numbers. Look at the shoulders on all of you. Yes, a limousine would suit you splendidly."
"Even so……."
Last Day's keen eyes found the other elders inside the bus, waving.
"I am so far past astonishment that words fail me. And this is how elders are meant to keep their dignity?"
Thunder, his anger drained by conduct beyond all understanding, turned the rebuke on Wildflower.
"Don't ride, then. I went to the trouble of having the youngsters arrange it, and listen to you nitpick."
"……Hah."
Last Day tapped Thunder's arm. Thunder chewed his lip.
"We're going."
"You might have said so sooner."
Wildflower turned on his heel. The thin back of an old man, hands clasped behind him, filled Thunder's sight.
"Endure it. There will be a chance."
"I know."
Last Day and Thunder followed without another word.
Once the last of them was aboard, the bus pulled out. Its destination was the place where their king waited.
"Hm."
Na Wangrang stood before a full-length mirror, studying the self that had been dressed without a wrinkle.
A navy suit so dark it was nearly black. An expensive, refined thing—every button carried the touch of a craftsman's hand.
"……I've never worn anything this expensive."
"Set beside a king's dignity, it is still wanting."
Sharl, knotting his tie, checked every inch for a crease.
"Do I really have to go this far? It doesn't suit me at all."
A suit had to sit well on a man, and he was short. Wouldn't he just look ridiculous……?
"Heh. I can guess what worries you, but there is no need. Among the werewolves who take the king's countenance into their eyes, not one would dare the impiety of speaking ill of him."
"If such a person exists, I will tear their limbs off myself."
Murder, offered in that lovely voice, put a cold sweat on Na Wangrang.
"And if not a day like today, when would you ever wear it again?"
"That's true, but……."
He had meant to dress by werewolf custom, in a king's clothing. The trouble was that the werewolves had no precedent, and so had never decided what that clothing was.
Someone had suggested an elder's robes. Wildflower had all but foamed at the mouth.
In the end they had compromised on a suit.
"It's a shame. I finally get into a suit, and today I have to throw it away."
"Is that not what clothes are for? The one who made it will be glad."
Since when discarding a garment had become its purpose, he could not have said. Na Wangrang decided not to think too hard about it.
First impressions matter.
Better than walking out in everyday clothes.
The door banged open.
"Wangrang, you ready?"
Dan Chuyeon came in with it.
"Just finished."
"Then let's go. If you don't come out, I think a riot's about to start. Those big brothers out there—man……."
Dan Chuyeon shuddered, calling up the average werewolf's build. The place was packed, men and women, young and old, with people who could have flattened a national athlete without breaking a sweat.
"Are the elders all here?"
"Yeah. Got here a while ago. They're waiting on you."
Na Wangrang swallowed.
"……How do they look to you?"
"Strong. The mood in there's seriously no joke."
"But."
"Doesn't look like you're gonna lose."
A soft snort.
"Thanks for the cheer."
Na Wangrang stole one last glance at the mirror and stepped through the door.
"We will escort you."
Yamaga and Ookami bowed their heads.
Leaving the two of them behind, Na Wangrang went forward, back straight.
Dan Chuyeon watched his friend's back until it was gone, then returned to the guest room set aside for outsiders.
The sparring ground had been laid for challengers who would contest the king's seat.
Three figures stepped into it.
A slender boy, flanked by two whose names carried a certain weight within the clan.
At the sight of that boy, the werewolves felt the pull of instinct.
Wildflower stood upon the sparring ground and roared.
"The king approaches! All of you—show your respect!"
Cloth hissed and broke.
The werewolves who saw the king did not spare a moment's thought. They parted to left and right, fell into ranks, and went to their knees.
A road opened in an instant, and the king walked it.
"The king……."
"No mistake……. He really is the king……."
"Ours. Our king……."
Small sobs spilled from the bowed backs. Like priests receiving a god, they wailed as one.
The king climbed onto the sparring ground and looked around him.
"An order. Everyone, please stand."
The kneeling rose in a single snap. With the sun at his back, the king's face was laid bare.
"Ghhk—!"
One after another, they fainted, overcome.
Among the elders, one clutched at his heart, laughed, and went down.
"Uh……."
Pandemonium. A pandemonium made entirely of joy.
A foot came down.
"This is the king's presence! Will you not show your respect this instant!"
Wildflower shouted, unable to bear the sight, trying to check them—and yet the man doing the shouting was himself weeping in sheets, overcome with joy.
"Ahem."
Na Wangrang cleared his throat, and only then did the noise fall away.
"……Thank you for welcoming me like this. There will be those seeing me for the first time, so I ought to begin with an introduction."
"Ahem."
"Greetings. I am Na Wangrang."
"Your king."
"WAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
The cheer rose as if it meant to shake heaven and earth.
Na Wangrang lifted a hand.
The roar died as if it had been a lie.
"It is well enough to be overcome with joy. But we must not forget what this gathering is for."
"Now. I will ask."
"This place where I stand."
"Is there no one who would take it?"
"If you only defeat me—"
"—you may become king."
"Here. Now."
"Is there no one?"
There could not be.
That was the thought they all shared.
If there is, I will tear that bastard apart.
But as if to laugh at the thought, someone climbed onto the dais.
Thunder's Footsteps.
He did not bother to hide the red flooding his eyes. He looked the king dead in the face.