A Drink For Babies

Wolf Kingdom.

Tribalan Pack.

They say the Tribalan tribe of the wolf kingdom flourishes in all things. But one most exceptionally notable is their beauty.

Their ethereal appearances crawl from meager maids to the Alpha. From kids to adults. From a males to females. All skin types. All genetic inheritances. All body shapes.

Even now, the banquet hall screams of beauty as several maids in satin robes swiftly move about to set the table.

Through the large, open door, a man steps into the hall, clad in a neatly-pressed brown suit, his polished black shoes complementing the glimmers of the diamond signet ring on his left index finger.

Without knowing it, he fists his fingers, his hands stiff at his sides and his chin held high as his gray eyes scan the hall.

The maids, who once graced the hall with their elegant movements, quickly lose their composure on the sight of him.

They giggle and point fingers. Some whisper among themselves.

The man notices these gestures, but never meets gazes with any of them. Instead, he focuses his attention on the long, rectangular banquet table ahead, and on the smell of delicious food, even as his name flies about the air. A name that forces necks to turn once it’s mentioned.

“Ambassador Zeedar, you are an hour early,” a voice whispers behind him. A male voice with a bland tone.

Zeedar acts unaware of the person, so the voice owner slides into his line of view, forcing an eye contact with him while standing a few inches taller than him.

Zeedar’s stoic expression doesn’t change as his eyes carefully analyze the man in his front.

Brawny. Chocolate, glowing skin. Short and shaped beards.

Those fit the description of Tribalan pack’s Beta.

“I am Beta Reamer of Tribalan. I represent Alpha Frail of Tribalan pack,” the man says while extending a handshake to Zeedar, who silently takes it. “From what I heard, when Moon’s Wrath pack’s ambassador goes on errands for his Alpha, Moon’s Wrath’s delight travels with him. They are quite inseparable, people say. But from what I’m seeing now, I do not think that is true.”

Zeedar diverts his eyes from Reamer without blinking. “This is not the Alpha’s errand,” he mutters before walking past the Beta, heading to the table and taking a seat without permission.

After studying Zeedar for a while, Reamer sits down as well.

Since Zeedar sat at the right side of the head seat, he expected Reamer to sit opposite him.

Seeing the man seated at the head seat meant for the Alpha is quite the eyesore he didn’t expect to come across. But even as the itch to drag the man out of the seat bubbles within him, he holds it down, suppressing it with a huge exhale of breath.

“Wine?” Reamer offers while gesturing to a maid to pour them both a champagne of wine each. Zeedar shakes his head in refusal when it gets to his turn. “How about alcohol?” the beta asks again, this time taking his own champagne glass by its stem and gently swirling the drink inside. Zeedar refuses again. “Do you prefer soda, then?”

“Milk,” Zeedar responds curtly, “with zero sugar.”

Confused, Reamer squints his eyes at the ambassador. Valiant men alike Zeedar Father prefer wine and alcohol. But here he is talking of milk. A DRINK FOR BABIES.

“Give the man his milk, then,” Reamer tells the maid, then proceeds to sip his wine, sniffing in its aroma before starting another speech. “I often confused you and your brothers as triplets. You look almost the same, and your characters don’t tell your age. For example, people know your Alpha is the oldest among you, but you act like the oldest instead. Could you please clarify the age differences so I would know how to address all three of you when we come together in the future…” Reamer jerks his wine glass toward Zeedar, “…in peace, of course.”

Zeedar locks his stare on the man. Is he trying to anger him by asking about age so bluntly?

In the werewolf kingdom, it’s an offense to ask one their age, especially since they age slowly and one can barely tell who is a hundred. But this man going as far as asking about Moon’s Wrath Alpha’s age tells just how fearless he is.

“My Alpha is twenty-nine. I’m twenty-seven. Freck is twenty-six,” Zeedar responds anyway, in a flat tone.

“I heard that before your Alpha, there was a first,” Reamer presses on.

“He’s dead,” Zeedar replies curtly, “but wasn’t he part of your pack? You should have known that.”

“He rarely showed himself. But the day my Alpha killed him, he saw his face. My Alpha keeps professing how beautiful the man was.”

Zeedar nods about three times while looking away, his jaws clenching without his control.

Reamer notices that and asks, “Was that offensive?”

Zeedar’s lips twitch a little, forming a tight smile. “Not at all.”

“Well, I just thought since he was ‘part of our pack’, you wouldn’t mind.”

Zeedar noted how Reamer put emphasis on the ‘part of our park’, probably as a sarcastic reply to his question.

Now he knows that the beta was certainly trying to annoy him while acting casual. It’s not like the man didn’t know what was offensive or not.

“As you may have heard, I have an intimate interest in men,” Reamer continues. “Your last brother, for example, pleases my heart. I would have loved it if he were here as well.”

Zeedar squints his eyes. He didn’t know anyone would be particularly interested in THAT brother, most especially a Beta of an enemy pack. Of all people to be attracted to, it’s Freck?

“My brother is not the best candidate for an escort on a peace mission. He acts on instinct.”

“Hm.” Reamer nods, sipping his drink again while never breaking eye contact with Zeedar. “I hear you’ve been busy with the pack’s company.” He lets that sentence sink in before proceeding. “You have spent these past years in the human world, only going on errands assigned by your Alpha. Why go out of your way now to come here outside your Alpha’s orders?”

Zeedar doesn’t respond as he diverts his focus

to the food before him. Usually, he would struggle to not eat a food given to him for fear of poison.

But he doesn’t struggle on this one. He won’t eat it unless convinced it isn’t poisoned.

After all, if Tribalan pack can kill an Alpha of Moon’s Wrath pack, what’s there to kill an ambassador?