It may be behind schedule, but it's longer than usual, and hopefully up to standards.

Chapter 11

It had taken a while for everyone to adjust to their new living area, but each did so in their own individual ways. Mini-Reed, in order to climatize and make his section truly his own, was sprawled out comfortably on his bed, sucking the juice out of satsuma pieces and throwing the empty skins up against the ceiling. "So..." He directed both his fingers at the boy who was neatly folding underwear into his drawer. "You. What's your name?"

"Me?" asked the youth in question, who was actually past his teens and older than the others, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. "I'm Patrick Liner."

"Hmm... And what do you do, Paddy?"

With no response to the new nickname, he replied "I used to be a guard at the palace a few years ago, but I quit after things got a little... hairy." This was a wise choice of words. He had actually decided to quit just after a werewolf he had been charged with guarding went on a rampage. "I've been looking for work ever since."

Mini-Reed tilted his head to one side. "...Ye-es. That's not too bad. You can be one of my mates. Okay Curly, what's your name?"

This was directed at Hayley, who had meekly been trying to keep his head down during the 'getting to know each other' session. Nevertheless he had rehearsed his answer in his mind over and over again just in case the question should arise, as he regretfully knew it would. "Uh... My name? Uh, my name. ...My name... My name... is... Dark McCloud."

Mini-Reed snorted into his orange. "Dark McCloud? Yeah, right Curly, and my name's Johnny Lightningstrike."

"Is it?"

"No. It's Max Legend."

It seemed that Bart had forgotten to check a certain criteria during his hero scout.

Patrick, however had stopped fiddling with the placement of his undergarments, and had not been paying attention to the nearby conversation. Instead he was staring across the room with a far away expression in his eyes. "...I wonder what her name is."

There was general agreement amongst the three boys as they turned to look at the mysterious girl who had not yet said a word to one of them.

There was something about her which captivated them, despite their very different womanly desires. Her hair was a shiny, iridescent colour, framing her pale face. Yet this was nothing in comparison to her eyes. She was like nothing they'd ever seen before, that was for certain...

She then walked over to the bedside table on which a jug of drinking water had been placed, and proceeded to tipping the contents over her head.

Max's lip curled in distaste. "Nah, forget it, bud. She's a nutter."

"I could live with that," muttered Paddy.

"Maybe she's just advertising a new type of shampoo?" suggested Hayley, before he was showered himself with Max Legend's satsuma shells.

John idly rolled his peas around the plate with his fork, absent mindedly wondering wether he could manage to catapult one into Aaron's face from where he was sat.

He was bored. Utterly and completely bored, as well as irritated. People around him were talking, incredibly, considering how much they were managing to stuff down their gullets at the same time. The subject he wasn't sure of. Probably just something or other which didn't concern or interest him, as usual. That was the basic description of most of these meetings.

And to top things off he was incredibly jealous of the runt of a guy sat at the top of the table, despite how much he didn't want to be.

It felt unusual, being jealous of someone. He felt like he was being shown what it felt like to be everyone who knew him. And being jealous of Aaron! It was quite a felt ashamed of himself.

His head turned slightly as the door opened a crack, allowing Bart to attempt to slide into the room unnoticed. This naturally meant that he received as much attention from everyone as if he'd come in doing a song and dance routine. "...Sorry I'm late..." he muttered, causing Reed to smirk. At least there would always be Barty to cheer him up.

"Why didn't you arrive earlier?" asked Lord Lovell, the way a schoolteacher may put a child on the spot in front of the class. "You were sent a letter."

"Yes, I was, but my werewolf only felt the need to read it to me five minutes ago." This was partially a lie. Atticus had told him earlier, but had only reminded him five minutes ago.

"Well, take a seat. There's one right next to Reed there." John received extreme pleasure from every wince Bart made during that last sentence. Something about the man was so amusing. Perhaps it was his predictability.

"...No, no thanks. I'll just stand back here."

He retreated back against a wall, allowing himself to be taken out of everyone's attention. Apart from John's.

Although he didn't like it, John wasn't completely without empathy. He understood completely how Bart felt about all this, as he felt the same. They was pointless, these meetings. Utterly, utterly pointless, unless you considered a chance to get together and have a large meal, courtesy of the palace's cooks and werewolves, to be a crucial requirement. Yes, John knew it.

But unfortunately, John didn't have the sympathy to back up his empathy, and so he promptly dug into a particularly pungent pudding to spite him.

However, it looked like this time there was something different on the menu.

"So..." said Lord Bell, and struggled for a moment to find the words with which to address Aaron Hetler II. "...Your Lordship. You mentioned that there was something you wanted to tell us?"

At this, Aaron slowly pushed his plate away, as if he had been expecting this but still dreading it. For some reason he had begun to look particularly tired ever since the start of his reign, and he hadn't even done anything yet. There wasn't really anything to do. Yet nevertheless, his skin was even whiter than usual, and his eyes even redder. "Uh... yes. There was." He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as if he couldn't quite will the words to come out. "...As you have all probably noticed, the city is a little overpopulated lately."

There were a few seconds of silence as people wondered wether they were supposed to contribute or if he was about to continue.

As if to help them, and more importantly himself, Aaron prompted them. "I'm... sure you agree."

At this everyone began to nod and murmur in general agreement. That is, of course, all except four select people. Bart, because he hadn't yet been trained to be a yesman, John, because he had, but felt too bitter at the moment to comply, Lord Pyre, because even his attuned sense of hearing could not pick up Aaron's words from the distance he was sat at, and Lord Salt. The reason he didn't was simply because he was naive, inexperienced Salt. "...Um... why?"

Now everyone turned to face him, bar none.

"I was only asking... I mean, a while ago there was hardly anyone left in the city..."

"Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy..." said one of the other Lords, shaking his head patronisingly. "When will you ever learn?"

Before Salt could give a precise date Lord Bell cut in. "What does this kind of thing normally relate to?" he asked in a sing-song voice. "What does practically everything boil down to, eventually? The Deomans."

"What? Are possession rates finally going down?" asked Salt, accidentally covering his front in gravy as he leaned forward over his plate.

"No, no. Still rising, as usual."

"Fortunately," muttered John, but quietly to ensure that no one could hear him. That just wouldn't do.

"No, teenagers are turning into those scaly monsters just as much as usual. As if they weren't bad enough already..." he added. "The difference though, between now and then is that the Deomans just don't seem to be attacking anymore. And because they're not attacking us less people are dying, and more refugees are making it to the city safely. Isn't that right, Lord Cooper?"

"Hmm?" said Bart looking up, being caught off guard once again by his title. "Oh. Yeah. Hardly any attacks. The most recent one was in Little Mudton, and even that seemed to be a half-hearted attempt, or a fluke or something. Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"You should be, or you'll soon be out of a job," muttered John almost silently once again.

"I understand that they're not attacking," said Salt, a little afraid of being singled out once again due to his lack of wisdom of the trade. The perils of the newbie. "But why, still? They seemed to be doing it so much before, so... why stop so suddenly? Without any warning?"

"We don't know, Salt. How should we know? None of us are Deomans."

There was an awkward moment after this sudden thoughtlessness, in which everyone successfully managed to say nothing. John grinned. Bart remained expressionless. Salt stared at all in confusion.

"...Uh... anyway," said Aaron, attempting to use this opportunity to bring attention back to himself, as it originally had been. "As I was saying-"

"I actually heard why they haven't been attacking," said Lord Pyre, making them all jump as he managed to join into the conversation. It seemed that he had wittingly foiled the strategic seating plan in which he had been sat alone on the far side of the table, by getting up and walking down while everyone's attention had been misplaced.

"Oh, yes Pyre?" asked Lord Lovell, indulgently. "And from where did you find it, if we couldn't?"

"From I very reliable source, actually. I have... connections." These were choice words. There was a very intricate communications system running through the werewolf world, and just because you happened to be a noble this didn't mean you were exempt from it. Unless you were stupid, that is. "From what I hear, the reason they haven't been attacking is because they're afraid."

This news even caught John's interest. He turned around in his seat to get a better look at him. "Afraid?"

"Yes. Afraid or anxious- both smell the same." Just to rub salt into the wound as he usually did he added, "Y'know, because I'm a werewolf."

This caused a disturbance as it usually did. They all knew he was a werewolf, of course, but despite how much they showed it through their actions and gestures, they never liked it to be said. They detested having a werewolf lord, but had one because they had to at least look like they weren't specieists. They chose Pyre because he had been the dominant male of the palace's slaves, and already knew how to speak a little. They hadn't expected him to be so much trouble.

"So... what are they frightened, or anxious, of?" asked Bell.

Pyre tilted his head on one side and gave a casual shrug. Bart couldn't help but think he did know, but was enjoying leaving them in the dark too much.

"Erm, thank you Pyre, for that small enlightenment," said Aaron, determined not to let their attention slip away from his this time. "But what I was trying to talk about is not why there are too many people in the city, but the problems that it's giving us."

"I thought we wanted more people in the city-" began Salt.

"You thought wrong," said John, now extremely agitated about the fact that the werewolf and Aaron were receiving far more attention from everyone than he was. "Why not before you speak decide to say the complete opposite of what you're thinking? Then you might get things right a little more often."

"Calm down, Reed," said Lord Shore, gently. "The boy can't help being ignorant, thoughtless, braindead and dense."

This did nothing to heighten John's mood (or Salt's either, for that matter), as it was not that which was bothering him.

If he was City-Lord he wouldn't sit there attempting to get a single point across throughout a whole valuable hour. Aaron had the power but he didn't know how to use it. It was so infuriating. It was so unfair.

"The problem, gentlemen," continued Aaron, congratulating himself on the excellent incorporation of the word 'gentlemen' in that sentence, very fitting, "Is that there are so many people I'm afraid there just isn't enough food to go around."

Bart stared.

"I can see what you mean," said Lord Bell, thoughtfully. "There was hardly any food when the city was derelict. What with less people dying and refugees coming in constantly..."

"Impossible," agreed Lovell, nodding.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't help doing anything but stare either. The mouths were moving, the sound was coming out, but the words made no sense. How could these people be saying this?

"But what can we do?" asked Shore. "It would be pointless to ration further..."

The table was practically buckling under the strain...

"We could close the gates to the refugees," suggested Scoff. "Stop the situation from getting any worse."

"But it wouldn't really help it."

Here's and idea. Stop stuffing your faces and throw the casseroles and stroganoffs to the masses. Or just stop meeting every day to have second brunches. That might actually achieve something...

"We already have a solution, which I am about to present to you now," said Aaron, but his confidence suddenly stopped. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if he couldn't bring himself to go any further. Without reopening them, he continued. "...Operation Euthanasia."

If Bart had known what that meant he would have probably been outraged. However due to his uncertainty he just settled with his average, dark scowl which he usually adopted when uncertain what he should be feeling. John, however, looked truly interested for the first time on something that Aaron had to say.

"...Food is being wasted. Birth rates are rising pointlessly, as half of the people born are being possessed and then killed in the Purification Ceremony. There are also many people with terminal illnesses who are going to die." He still hadn't opened his eyes since he shut them. "Werewolf slaves are not being used yet they are still being fed pointlessly until the day they die."

Pyre unfolded his arms, his golden wolf eyes shining. Another wolf would have been able to smell his fear/anxiety rooms away. "Are you saying..."

"I propose that we carry out euthanasia on all those who are dying or are very likely to die within the next year."

Bart still looked clueless. Pyre leant over and whispered something in his ear, causing his face to become a mask of fury. "You can't do that!"

Aaron leant back in his chair, his head drooped a little. Lovell came up in his defence as he was incapable of doing so himself. "What could you have against this idea, Cooper?"

He wasn't sure where to begin. "...It's just wrong."

"Don't fool yourself that you're full of integrity all of a sudden, Bart," said John. "Generally you tend to carry an 'Oh, Sod it' approach to such things. Why should you care what happens all of a sudden? Wether a few meaningless people die a little earlier than natural?"

"That's right. It's not like you're normally worried about this sort of thing, which is fortunate as it isn't your job to," said Shore. "It's your job to accept and enforce it."

Bart was slightly hurt by this. Despite his grim outlook he never thought that people saw him to be such a heartless bastard he wouldn't care if someone died. He was just strict on himself and didn't allow himself to get mushy about death when it wouldn't helpThat didn't mean he didn't care. He'd thought himself to be quite moral in some aspects.

"It's pointless. Why not just limit families to just one new born child until we get out of this situation?"

"We couldn't do that. Stopping people from having children? It's inhumane."

"Besides, its not your place to give suggestions on the matter," said Bell.

Then what the hell am I DOING here?

"Erm... you misunderstand..." said Aaron quietly, not really wanting to be subjected to Bart's angry glare any more than he had to be. "Euthanasia is an act of mercy killing. Like the Purification Ceremony. Those who are likely to become Deomans later in their life will be killed only to ensure that there is enough food to go to those who will definitely survive... and it also contributes to preventing the Deoman problem."

And the most annoying thing about it what it was right. But that didn't mean it couldn't be wrong at the same time. So very, very wrong.

"...Can I say something?" asked Salt. "I don't agree. I think it isn't fair."

After a few seconds of staring at him in a way which would make the most confident of people uncomfortable, everyone sat at the table decisively turned away from him so that he was staring at a load of backs. The lords were looking for a fight with Bart and Pyre, but from someone like Salt it wasn't expected or wanted.

"Yeah, that's the way it goes, kid," said Bart, loudly to the dejected teenager. "Speak your mind and you get chewed out. Life isn't fair, is it."

"Now, really-"

"For Gods' sake, if someone had decided to do this years ago I certainly wouldn't be here, as everyone had placed their bets on me being snuffed when I was thirteen. But since my well being probably doesn't make any impact on you, let me just say that star pupil John Reed over there probably wouldn't be here either."

"Cooper, if you persist with being so brusque we may have to consider-"

"Oh, sod it. I'm off." With that he turned and strode out of the door. Pyre, looking quite angry about something, growled an inaudible word under his breath and walked out after him.

"Well," said Aaron, a quaver in his voice once the disturbance was over. "Shall we take a vote on Operation Euthanasia?"

All hands went up, including Salt's, if reluctantly. The majority vote won.

"Cooper!" Pyre barked to the man rapidly striding away from him. "Cooper. Wait!"

Bart finally stopped, and turned around with a sigh. "What."

It was then that he truly took in Lord Pyre's appearance. It was obvious that he was a werewolf, really. He wore the tunic that all slave werewolves wore; just a single piece of material with sleeves which could easily be slid in and out of during transformations. The only difference was that his was dark brown and had a few extra trimmings. His long spiky black hair had been tied back from his fierce face.

He was actually a little scary, Bart conceded.

"Listen. I've been a Lord for eight years now. Eight years. And over those eight years of sitting there, listening, doing my job, I've learnt only one thing. Our city is ran by bastards."

Bart smirked. It was funny because it was true.

"Take my advice. You can't do anything to contribute or make any difference, so there isn't any point in trying."

"Yeah? So what should you do then?"

"Sit back, let it all wash over you, and pretend that you're somewhere where people actually give a damn what you think."

"Hmph. I can bet that at the start of it all you sang a different tune." He gave a small, jovial smile. "You could finally make a difference. Something would be done. You thought you could bring your race out of slavery and perhaps even give them a few of the right humans have..."

"Of course I did," he snarled, angrily.

Bart's smile widened, as he forced himself not to be fazed by those incredibly shiny incisors. He seemed to have touched a nerve, which was all right when it was with your enemies, but when with someone who could be considered an ally it was not a wise thing to do. Especially when that ally might have a past record of eating people.

"...My point is," Pyre continued, running his hand irritably back through his hair. "You're in danger. We're both in danger, maybe even that young human in there, too. They'll get rid of anyone who dares to think different, and I think we all know that they'll take any opportunity to get rid of you. Now that they know you won't be moulded."

Bart folded his arms. "What is it you're trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say, is that it's all connected to this problem of there being too many people in the city, and this 'Operation Euthanasia' tripe. I do know what the Deomans are afraid of, and I'm pretty sure that everyone else in that room does too. If you're not careful, they'll be blaming you for doing what you did those years back, as it made the Deomans stop killing people."

The meeting was over.

Lord shore walked over to where Aaron was still sat, with his head in his hand. "Congratulations. You've created a very good first impression. Your father would be proud."

"Yes. I suppose he will be," he replied, tiredly.

Once Shore had gone, he noticed an extra presence waiting patiently by his side. He lifted his head to notice John stood next to him. "Oh... Reed..."

John fixed on his face with difficulty his most winning and encouraging smile. "You did a good job today."

"...Th-thank you..."

He leant in closer, causing Aaron to recoil slightly. "But what I was wondering, is about that little request I made a while ago..."

"Oh, of course... yes... of course you can do it..."

John straightened up again, with a completely different expression now. He began to walk away, feeling extremely smug.

"Perfect."

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