“I don’t think you quite understand our position, Your Majesty.” Hank said after he saw Russel on the verge of doing something predictable, like having the entire human envoy arrested and thrown in jail. Before Russel could even give the command, Hank’s words stopped him.

“Is that right?” Russel asked. He towered over the much smaller Hank but still, the human didn’t budge or show fear of any kind. Hank’s irritating smugness grew more pronounced, making the new Oclan king desperately want to murder the man where he stood. But again, with a patience he didn’t know he had, he resisted the urge and did his best to deal with the humans as respectfully as possible.

“If you did, you would be adopting a much less threatening demeanor when dealing with me,” Hank told him. “And you would be acquiescing and surrendering to us much faster.”

“And what exactly makes you think we would roll over and just accept this?” Russel asked, his deep voice letting menace slip through despite his best efforts.

The rest of those present in the court were growing restless now, especially his brothers. Russel could hear them talking among themselves, keeping their voices quiet but still loud enough to hear. They were clearly not happy with being threatened either and wanted to simply kill all the humans and be done with them.

Idiots, Russel thought to himself. He was glad he’d been the one to take control from their father. The other fools would have led Oclan to ruin in no time, it appeared. At least his father had been as calculating as he was cruel. He would have seen the threat the humans posed just as Russel had done the moment they walked in with his spy in chains and wearing a solid silver collar around his neck.

They knew one of the weaknesses of his kind. Silver. It was a carefully guarded secret amongst werewolves so he wasn’t sure how the human king had managed to find out. He must have gotten his hands on someone and tortured the information out of them. Or perhaps bribed it out of them. Whatever the case may be, the minute he saw that, the meeting immediately took a much darker turn for him.

And then there was the matter of Hank’s overabundance of confidence. If switching the roles between the two, Russel would not have been as cocky dealing with werewolves as a human as Hank seemed to be. It could all be an act but he didn’t think so. Nothing about the man came off as fake or disingenuous. The confidence was real which meant he felt he had every reason to be confident in front of powerful, supernatural creatures like werewolves. Which meant Hank and the humans with them had some sort of secret advantage. And the only advantage they could have that would mean anything to werewolves is an advantage of strength.

Of power.

“I’m so glad you asked that question and I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate exactly why you should all be rolling over like the good little doggies you are,” Hank said.

Russel had to suppress the sudden and vitriolic anger at being referred to as a dog. It was a common enough insult to his kind and he’d heard it himself on many occasions, but it still infuriated him every time regardless.

Hank smiled as he watched the emotions play over Russel’s face. Then he raised a hand, his palm facing the ceiling as if waiting for someone to place an object there. He didn’t say a word but as soon as he did this, one of the knights immediately came forward and placed an object on the palm that Russel had never seen or even heard of before. It was clearly some kind of weapon made of metal. It had a handle with a wooden grip. A long, cylindrical tube jutted off the main part and there was a spot with a curved piece coming out.

Hank closed his hand around it, his fingers wrapping around the grip and one of them settling on that curved piece. He pointed the end of the tube part at Russel’s spy and without preamble, warning, or even a slight hesitation, the finger resting on the curved piece jerked back.

A loud and echoing boom erupted from the machine and everyone jerked at the unexpected and extremely loud noise. A burst of light and fire exploded out of the tube’s end and smoke puffed up into the air. Russel, to his credit, returned to a more statuesque pose but even he had been surprised by the sudden noise. It had been invasive. It felt like the noise had pierced his ears and speared right into his brain.

Right after the explosive sound, the spy yelped with pain. Russel watched his entire body crumple as if struck a powerful blow by some blunt object. Hank watched with a sick, twisted expression on his face. His eyes were fixated on the spy and didn’t leave the man. Russel ran to his subject, the man he personally selected to enter dangerous territory, and knelt down beside him. He wanted to help him but didn’t know what to do. He screamed out for a medic.

“That won’t do your man any good now,” Hank mentioned, still fixated on the spy. “It’s far too late for him, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?” Russel screamed. He looked over the spy’s body, looking for the wound. He found it quickly and got an up close and personal view of what Hank’s weapon had done to his wolf.

It was a hole and as he watched, a silvery liquid started to dribble out of it. It mixed with the actual blood coming out. Russel expected the wound to start closing but it didn’t. The silvery liquid was preventing that. And as he tried to do something to help, the spy’s body began convulsing, twitching this way and that in powerful bursts of movement. Russel tried to hold the man down but quickly found he couldn't.

“Get someone! He needs help,” Russel screamed again. “That’s an order.”

Distantly, he saw a few people toward the back of the throne room trying to leave to get someone but the human knights blocked their way.

Russel looked at Hank with murderous rage in his eyes.

“Let them out. He needs a doctor,” Russel demanded. There was a hard, unyielding edge to his voice. “Now.”

“You must not have heard me,” Hank told him again, brandishing the weapon still in his hand in a lazy, careless fashion. Anytime the barrel pointed in a person’s direction, they immediately ducked down with shouts of terrified surprise. “Let me speak slower for you so you can better understand me. It…won’t…matter…Your…spy…is…already…dead.”

Then he laughed cruelly. Oclan guards and soldiers around the throne room all twitched, most of them with eyes glowing with amber fire. There were maybe three or four humans among the guards and military but the rest were wolves. Humans in the Oclan military were relatively rare because they were mostly abused or used as shielding against attackers. But the benefits of being a soldier meant steady pay, housing, clothes, and food. It outweighed the disadvantages for some.

“Ah, ah,” Hank said, glancing at all of them. “Behave. Or there will be more dead amongst you before the day is out.”

Each one looked torn, fighting internally among themselves and trying to figure out if they should fight back or stay still. The matter, fortunately for them, was decided by their king just moments later.

“Stay your hands,” Russel said grudgingly from his spot next to his dying spy. The silvery liquid was now pouring out of his ears, nose, mouth, and the corners of his eyes. The twitching convulsions had stopped a minute or two ago.

“Excellent choice,” Hank told them all.

“What did you do to him?” Russel asked.

The spy’s breathing and heart stopped and he died. There was nothing Russel could do to prevent it. For all his strength and power, he’d been helpless.

Hank saw the look of defeat in the king’s eyes and his smile broadened. Then he showed Russel the weapon, giving him a closer look.

“This is a weapon the scientists from my kingdom have been working on for the last decade. It was created simply as a means to help defend our lands from the likes of you werewolves, ghouls, vampires, and other supernatural abominations inhabiting this world. Due to my race’s lack of natural weapons like claws and fangs, we had to be more…creative.” He looked at the weapon with loving, doting eyes. “It’s called a gun. The word doesn’t do this beautiful creation enough justice in my very humble opinion but it’s sort of grown on me nonetheless.”

He turned away from Russel and addressed the entire room again.

“We have enough guns and enough ammunition to outfit our entire military several times over.” His gaze scanned the Oclan citizenry, seeming to lock onto each person separately. “While your kingdom and the other two wolf kingdoms have been content in the knowledge of your superior fighting, we humans have not. We have been preparing for this day since the First War of the Wolves ended and the treaty was signed, always researching and developing our weapons programs until eventually, we ended up with this beauty.”

Russel stood back up, his fists balled up and his eyes bright with blue, inner light. The light of an alpha.

“Each round of ammunition, which we call a bullet for anyone interested to know, is filled with a core made primarily of silver with some added bits thrown in for good measure. Sorry, but that will remain a proprietary secret if it’s all the same to you good doggies. Once it enters the bloodstream of a supernatural being such as yourselves, there’s a…reaction, I suppose you can say that liquifies this special core and spreads it rapidly through the entire body.” He gestured at the dead spy. “As you can see, Your Majesty, the effect is fast and despite your kind’s propensity to heal from even the most vicious of wounds, there is nothing it can do against this sort of infection.”

The crowds’ whispered murmurs were heavy with fear and terror. Russel felt a surge of guilt for allowing that to bloom inside his people’s hearts. It made him want to be reactionary at a time when being reactionary would almost certainly make things worse.

“Now that you have seen what we are capable of, I imagine you’ll be more accommodating.” Hank turned and stared at Russel. “What say you, King Russel? Surrender? Or will you lead your nation into a war it can no longer win?”