Alpha Wolf

[Coyote]

Prologue;

The scream was horrific.
There are sounds that animals make and there are sounds that humans make.
The scream was so guttural and primal, it was difficult to separate the two, anguish of both the body and soul within it's drawn out and hoarse syllables.
The floor rushed up at him and impacted his face, the young priest felt with stark realism the rock chip his tooth and break his nose, driving it deep into his skull with a blossom of blood, more crimson life to join that which puddled all around him from the useless, gaping hole that used to be one of his eyes, now dangling uselessly with viscera along with the bloodied stump that once had been his hand.

He was left whimpering in a stretching hall near the refectory and across from the library vault, the stone walls black and dark, none of the candelabras along the tunnel lit for the late hour that it was. He was surrounded by the torn and ruined bodies of his brothers at the monastery, the bloodied forms of his fellow Priests all in various states of violent death. Some had been torn raggedly apart while others were cut cleanly in half. Many had large trails of blood trickling down their gaping eye sockets, a mock of holy stigmata.

The young man could only move limply, his still attached fingers twitching wildly, trying to grasp a hold of something, anything to help him stand up, reaching for the bloodied sword he had used moments before with such skill. His legs wouldn't respond, bent and useless, broken in more places he cared to count, every command he gave them coming back to him in a bright flash of searing hot pain.

He coughed, choking on the pooled blood around him, weakly turning to look ahead of him, his slashed chin grinding against the slick stone, his vision obscured by a dark, red cloud.

“Brother! Why? Our vows! You were the most holy of us all! Why would you betray God!?“

The figure before him was a frighteningly tall man, young, so pale in skin he was snow white, matching the flawless robes he clothed himself in, not a speck of blood on him from his messy killing. His eye glowed brightly with love and compassion in a gold hue, the same color as his long, feathery hair. In dark juxtapose to his holy appearance was the wound encompassing his own missing eye and the severed hand at the end of his arm, mirror injuries given to him by his Brother moments ago during their short but violent battle. The pain didn't seem to affect him though, as he only kept looking down with pity and compassion at the young man before him.
He spoke with the airy voice of an angel, reciting with practiced tempo holy words that, had the situation and setting been changed, would have filled his former brother with righteous pride.
“'But if there is serious injury,” he recited the holy words, “you are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, foot for foot,'“ he paused smiling lovingly at the maimed man lying before him, “hand for hand.”

“Do not mock Gods words!” The maimed Monk roared and croaked with burning anger!

A compassionate smile passed on the ivory skinned face. “Brother, I only exercise God's word in my life, as I have been taught to do so! As you were taught to do so! You took my hand, I took yours. You took my eye, I took yours. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh! This is not out of malice! I do this in love! To teach you your error, to guide you on the path to righteousnesses! You are still young and you require direction! I am but your humble Brother, your Teacher on your path to God.“

The man on the floor barely manged to spit a bloody stream at the heretical words.

Wiping his pale, naked foot of the phlegm and blood, the angelic man leaned down, cupping the chin of his brother in his one hand.

“You are upset. I understand your frustration. Such faith I have cannot be accepted by young souls, souls that are not ready to accept God's word in full. You will learn, though. You will some day attain the peace that I have found in God. Till that time comes, do not hate me Brother in your ignorance, in the darkness you now dwell.“
The pale man kissed his bleeding brother laying on the floor and placed a gentle hand on his head before tracing the sign of their order on his forehead in blood. The spiral shaped symbol in bright red nearly matched the hatred in the wounded Priest's eyes.
“I forgive you of your sins against me.” The albino whispered.

With a careful hand, he took hold of his brother's dangling eye.
“This will hurt.” He warned.
He tore the thread that held it and his Brother cried in horror and pain, his voice echoing down the hall eternally!

The standing man then walked over the twitching form of his Brother, now weeping bitterly in pain and anguish.
Picking up his own pale severed hand, he wrenched from it a large tome, a book bound in black leather with strange and disturbing symbols pressed into it's ancient surface. His severed hand though would not relent and he was forced to break several bones to force it's surrender.
He smiled, remembering the lessons of his youth concerning the weakness of the flesh as his own fingers, still warm from when they were cleaved by his Brother, broke under his urging.
He discarded his old hand, found his brother's own, and tucked the book under his arm, slipping the bloody hand and eye into his robe pocket.

“I will always remember you, Brother, but do not follow me. My path is straight and narrow and it is only for me to walk. I will come back for you, though. When God's work is done, I will come back for you so that you too may join me in my understanding.“

He crossed himself, making the sign of their faith over his Brother, blessing him for the life ahead.

“Go With God, Brother. You will always be in my thoughts.”

He turned and walked away, stepping over the bodies of the slain with no regard.

The young man on the floor wept still, clutching his bleeding stump, grasping at his missing eye. He cried out to God to give him understanding why this tragedy happened, a whisper as to why this event came about, this horrible betrayal!

God though, as the young man then realized, remained ever silent.

[Coyote]

“Beauty is not only a terrible thing, it is also a mysterious thing. There God and the Devil strive for mastery, and the battleground is the heart of man“
-Fyodor Dostoyevky

“If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown in hell.“
-Matthew 5:29

“When tempted, no one should say, 'God is tempting me,“ for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives full birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.“
-James 1:13-15

The north-western coast of Albalon is an immense stretch of white stone, a huge shelf of lime that over the years has been sanded down by the salty ocean winds into an impassable wall that stands on the edge of the known world. Many large monoliths, some the size of whole cities, lay separated from the mainland due to the hand of erosion, left to fend for themselves against the crashing wake of an eternity of salt water away from the land, like huge pillars of law jutting up from chaos.

The largest of these, a single growth of white limestone of particular strength and beauty, has been chosen for a much more honorable purpose than that of aborted land mass. The jutting spire was the largest pillar for miles up and down the coast and good sized enough to be almost considered an island of it's own. The bottom weathered the torrential white water, but the top had been carved at, chipped away for hundreds of years, taking the shape of an immense fortress that had passed hand from hand over the years as battles waged all around it.

The castle itself, of such importance to sea trade that the blood spent to hold it rivaled the massive ocean below and around, was stark white and smooth, like an ivory tower spoken of when in arrogant company. Many minarets and towers stretched up from the rock base, all clustered around a huge keep carven from the stone itself, melding near the bottom seamlessly into the bedrock coast that stretched down to the ocean floor.

From since the forming of Dratlin, Sakin and Calnin, as long as these names were applied to the kingdoms surrounding the coast, the fortress has been battled over by each nation or any advancing army that happened to be conquering nearby. Named 'The Key of The West' for both it's stratigraphic importance, as well as the many dotting islands surrounding it, like a King and his court, The Key had long been contested between Calnin and Dratlin, one from fear of the economic loss and the other from military might.

During the World War, this was the first site of battle between Dratlin and Calnin after the former had been captured by Lord Huvein and his army under the golden banner of Firedale. Taking kingship of Dratlin, the former allies in the War were then thrust into bitter rivalry and it's no coincidence The Key became their first quarrel.

Dratlin with the aid of Firedale behind it, proved too much even for Calnin to handle and the forces were made to retreat to the capitol and abandon The Key, in hopes of securing and keeping safe the city for the eventual siege that soon came.

If not for the interference and revelation of a certain Legendary Dark Knight, it was sure that Dratlin would have crushed Calnin and the war would have made the world into a very different place that it is today.

Thankfully, Dratlin and Calnin soon became allies despite the turmoil the war presented (thanks in no small part to Dratlin's wish for peace and Calnin's thirst for Airships in ready supply) old wounds were forgotten and, the two were joined soon after by Sakin. The Albalon Alliance was formed from the ruins left behind by the World War.

One point of contention though was The Key.

Calnin wished it back, but Dratlin was unwilling to pass such a control over the waters back to even an ally. Sakin agreed with Dratlin and it was decided that none would possess the castle, and that it was just better to let the sea have it, to take temptation away from new friends.

For several years The Key and it's castle lay quite, collecting dust, salt and seagull droppings.

Soon though, need was required of a castle that was strong, easily defended and a symbol of power that would be unmistakable to surrounding territories.

From an opulent mansion estate in Dratlin, the guild of the Shadow Saints, led by Saint Coyote, who inhered the title Guild Master from his vanished brother Ridley Pertenza, moved into the castle set atop The Key, a gift to them from the Alliance for duty served and to ensure the continued protection of the Alliance, both from public enemies and more private ones.

The keep, nameless for years, was dubbed San Umbra in honor of it's new occupants. Nearby on the coast, small keeps sprung up alongside barracks to house the huge Saint army that was spread out through the three allied nations to offer safety and protection to the people, though the greatest number of Saints could always be found in San Umbra.

San Umbra was brought back to it's former glory and reinforced, becoming a jewel of power that stood fast against any enemy of the Guild or their allies, no matter what direction they came from.

----------------------------------------

One of the many courtyards of San Umbra was host to Coyote, Guild Master of the Shadow Saints, and his second in command Arrakis, a semi-reformed demon of Hell that, through a clause in a soul contract, had become indebted to Coyote for 10,000 years.

The courtyard was a large open space used for training and drills to whip the Saint army into discipline and rigid formation, but today the grounds were covered in burns and small craters ripped into the soft earth, scorched grass laying in twisted patches all around the pair, most notably Coyote.

The Lycanthrope had several bandages around his arm and a large patch on his face, gained wounds during the revolution in Sakin, still fresh in his memory and flesh. He wore a pair of slacks with no shirt, the pants burned in several places along with several bright red patches on his flesh. His hair had soot in it and Coyote looked as if he had run through a burning building several times before standing where he was, flushed in face and gasping for air in rigid gulps.

Across the yard, Arrakis looked no worse for wear, his lustrous red scales shining like bronze armor dyed with blood, his teeth and horns in immaculate nature, carefully watching Coyote with his split iris eyes, either looking in concern or possibly for some weakness to be found.

“Again?” Arrakis asked, slightly hesitant.

Coyote only gave a nod, black ash falling from his long, uncombed blonde hair that obscured his face and blue eyes.
Coyote held his hands out, gripping his finger until the knuckles went white, eyes rolled back in his head as if searching for something deep inside of his mind or soul.

The air around the Lycanthrope wavered like the summer breeze over a smoldering bed of coals, the burns on his skin wavering like they could come to life. His arms flexed, his muscles contracting, the sweat on his skin flash boiling into steam that wafted off of him.
His skin slowly erupted, a red blaze rising out of every pore and surrounding him in a building inferno of fire that scorched the ground around him to a black, crispy ash.

The fire built up around him until every inch of his body was within the blaze, threatening to consume him body and soul. Coyote could feel his teeth creak under the grit he was putting them in, trying to breathe as levelly as he could, but only managing to hiss through his teeth.

He held his arms out, fingers spread out in a fan, his eyes opening and concentrating on each individual digit.
He groaned in pain as the fire built, slowly trickling from around him, leaving his body and traveling down to his finger tips, his arms enveloped in the blaze that wavered up and down the length of his a limbs.

“Concentrate.” Arrakis prodded.

Coyote gasped, his eyes wide as he locked onto the burning limbs in front of him. He could see his flesh begin to brighten, slowly being kissed by the uncontrolled flames.

“Ignore the pain. Pain is reality. Use it to focus your perception.“

Coyote clenched his fists, fighting back the flames with will alone. The pain faded away, not leaving, but aiding in his focus to a needle point.
He held one finger out and drew in the air, a circle of fire surrounding where his digit traced.
He listened for it, searching for that tiny whisper of life in the crackling and sputtering flames. It was a tiny voice, like something whispered by a child. The spirit of the fire surrounded him and he could feel the life in it, masked by the unabashed hatred and rage that fueled it deep inside of him.

Images flashed in his mind; Alstair Embridge, Tom Corleone, Lloyd Corleone, Shadow, his family, all things that inspired anger and hate in him. The fire tried to reach these images, tried to use them as fuel to consume both them and Coyote, but he forced it away, trembling in pain as he did.

The ring of fire in front of him began to waver.

“Don't lose it!” Arrakis warned!

Coyote centered his attention on the ring again, holding his hand spread out to touch the circle around it's circumference. It began to grow with his touch and began to listen.
He suddenly found it amid the licking flames, the little whisper of it's life beginning to match his heartbeat.
“Almost...” he whispered to himself.

With a burst of will, Coyote grabbed hold of the ring and he felt it take form in his hand, feeling the flames move into his palm, down his arm and into his chest, straight to his heart!
The flames lashed out and Coyote twisted them into a spiral of death that spun and twisted in the air towards Arracht, who braced for the hit with arms out!

The fire struck Arrakis and the demon was consumed in flames that wrapped around him, gripping him tightly in a grasp that could burn the flesh away from bone!
Arrakis was surrounded by the fire for several long moment before the flames sputtered out around Coyote, the Lycanthrope falling to the ground hard, spent and covered in burns and cinders.

The smoke cleared and Arrakis stood only lightly singed, having been born in the hellfire pits of his home plane of existence. Still, he had felt the heat of Coyote's fire and he noted that every time, they got closer to causing him pain. He saw his Master on the ground and he had just a bit of concern in his smoldering, yellow eyes.
“Master?”
Coyote stirred, his scorched arm pulling himself up, legs finding purchase. on the unsteady ground.

“Again,” he whispered through blistered and parched lips.

--------------------------------------

Later, Coyote was slumped against the stone walls of the courtyard, Arrakis tending to his burns and wounds with a cold cloth. Coyote winced every time the demon awkwardly dabbed the wounds so he took the cloth from him after one too many sharp jabs.
“Let me.” He suggested as politely as he could.

Arrakis relented and stood by while Coyote cleaned his burns, watching his Master with the same confusion one looks at a dog chasing it's tail.
“Once again Master, I must question the wisdom concerning your actions. Your Fire Ascension is one of the strongest I have ever seen, I dare say your are at a level that surpasses Master Ridley when he possessed the gift. What are you trying to accomplish with this unnecessary self abuse?“

Coyote gently wiped soot out of a burn on his arm, teeth clenching every time he pressed against the tender skin. “It's something that happened in Sakin. When we took the castle, Alstair fought us using his Wind Ascension. Yes, he was fast, but he did things with it I had never thought possible! He controlled it with such grace! He used the wind as a shield and a weapon at the same time! We were helpless! I never thought anyone could control an Ascension like he could, but Alstair possessed an innate ability to command the winds.“

“You don't think he was one of the Shaman like you, do you, Master?“

Coyote nodded, 'no'.
“Alstair didn't care about anything other than his own twisted desires. He didn't have the mind set for a Shaman. His control came from innate knowledge of his Ascension. He must have had it for years before he fought us, training with it for his whole life.“
He set the cloth aside and leaned against the wall, resting as best as he could despite the pain.
“If I could reach that level of control, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about losing control at all.“
“Master, the Fire Ascension is based on pure rage and hatred. Controlling it would be like directing a raging river. It could destroy you.“

Coyote signed, twisting the cloth over his head and letting the water trickle down his face.
“If I can't learn to control the hatred, then self destruction is my only option.“

[Coyote]

Two hours, a warm and soaking bath and a visit to the Shadow Saint's Priests in the adjoining chapel and Coyote's earlier self-inflicted abuse was nearly unnoticeable. Other than the hinting smell of singed hair and the herb laden wrapping over his burns, Coyote had regained his normal immaculate appearance.

His room in the castle was in one of the many towers, not the largest of the bedrooms, but certainly sporting the best view, a huge double glass door wrought of silver that looked out over the sea and offered a view that spanned miles of blue ocean. A huge carved balcony just beyond the door also offered an odd floating sensation when looking out over the horizon, the stone unsupported from underneath and stretching out over the water hundreds of feet down below.

He was perched on the edge of the balcony, feet dangling over the edge, shirtless and letting the chilled ocean air tear at his bare skin. He breathed deeply, letting the wind cleanse and pass through his body. He could feel his Chakra growing, ebbing back and forth with every press and push the wind sent against him, matching the booming surf far below.
He knew he had things to get done, tasks set ahead of him for the day, but he enjoyed having at least some time to himself.

He let his mind wander, to think on those things, pacing himself for the day ahead.

Sakin's revolution was still fresh in his mind, as fresh as the wounds he carried from it. Despite the brutal and bloody nature of the coup, Sakin's future looked bright considering whose hands it was lain in to guide.
Coyote had received word that Dariah and Aracht had already formed a new Guild within the city borders dedicated to keeping Sakin stable. He let himself smile, thinking about the two of them, both as his friends and their unlikely pairing.

It would be nice to finally have Sakin on someone else's mind for once.
Coyote had been pulling his hair out over that city for long enough, especially with the prodding of the Albalon Alliance in the hopes of keeping things peaceful for the northern lands. Coyote wanted nothing else, but he was glad that Sakin was now able to take care of itself and no longer needing the constant intervention of other nations and powers on it's behalf.

He stood, hopping up onto the banister and walking the length of the balcony, stone on one side, air and water on the other, spanning the elements with his outstretched arms.

Dariah would take charge and inspire the people, and with Aracht at her side, she would have plenty of strength and will to do the job ahead of the pair. With the backing of the Alliance, as well as the fact that none of the corrupt element in Sakin was left alive after the revolution, it looked better for that city than it had ever looked before.
He had all the faith in this new Guild and was looking forward to seeking an alliance with them at a future date.
For now he, and the Saints, would watch.

Speaking of which...

He reached the end of the balcony and hopped back onto the firm stone, leaving the wind and salt mist thrown up by the waves at his back. He stepped through the glass panes and left the doors open to allow the air to continue swirling in.

Set on a huge bed fit for a king was a long black robe with stark red runes sewn into it, satin and silk that glittered black and crimson as the light reflected off of it. He threw it on over his back, buttoning it up the front carefully. He was pleased that it fit so well, as to his specifications. The robes reached just below his knees, giving him plenty of room to move in a fight. The sleeves though reached past his wrists, covering his hands and obscuring the tiny claws that tipped each of his delicate fingers. The collar was high and, combined with the following item lying on the bed, would hide his face admirably.
On the bed next to it was a round straw hat which Coyote strung around his head and let hang back off his neck

Checking his state in a full body mirror nearby, he adjusted the robes and hat, making sure he looked well fitted and comfortable more than formal and professional. He had no one here he needed to impress and he only wore the robes of the Saints for comfort and to impress on others his status.

He turned to the oak doors cutting his room off from the rest of the castle and took a deep breath.
“Time to get to work...” He told himself.

----------------------------------------

The main gate of San Umbra was some distance from the front entrance, both for ascetic uses and security. The guards stationed were some of the best the Shadow Saints had to offer and when the unknown rider was spotted coming up towards the castle, they reacted with practiced customs and preparations.

“Halt!”

The large horse, speckled white and black, was halted by it's rider when the guards held their hand up, both armed with long spears tipped with curving blades.
“State your purpose!,” they called to the unknown party.

The rider paused a moment, as if to consider it's next action. Obscured by a black cloak with green lining, the mount and rider struck an imposing figure that would have belonged on any number of battle fields.

The figure remained silent and the guards tightened their grip on their spears, steadfast and steely before the gates.
“This is Shadow Saint land! State your purpose or turn back down the road!“

The guards tensed as the figure reached into his robes...pulling from it a plain white letter.
He held it out to them.
The guards seemed suspicious of the rider's lack of vocals.
“Who are you?” They demanded, one of them holding his spear at ready.
The figure sighed in annoyance.
“I was told to not speak and just give this to you.” The figure gestured with the letter towards the guards, insistent and pleading for them to take it.

Unable to tell even what gender the stranger was, one of the guards approached, the other guard behind and watching carefully for any sign of treachery from the rider.
The letter was passed and almost immediately the rider spun his mount around and, with a great whinny, sped the horse away down the path, as if hell itself was chasing him.

The guard with the letter watched until he was gone, then passed a quizzical look to his fellow Saint, then down towards the mysterious letter in his hand.

---------------------------------------

Almost as soon as the doors were pulled apart by Coyote, he was set upon by well dressed men and women, those who worked behind the scenes to keep the Shadow Saints running. He was bombarded with questions and requests and he sifted through them all calmly, answering one at a time.

“Saint, Sakin asks for more funds from us to help in the rebuilding process.“
“What about the last shipment of gold we sent them?”
“They say it has already been used.”

Coyote paused in thought as he continued to walk down the long white halls of the castle, a seething pool of attendants around him, waiting to nibble like fish on any word he had to say.

“Send another care packet. Double the guard on the wagon train. When the gold is delivered, recall the first group, but keep the second patrol in Sakin to make sure that the gold is going to where it's supposed too. Also, suggest that we begin sending food and not gold. Gold is good, but the people need to eat. Don't be too threatening, but let them think we're on to them.“

“Yes, Saint.”

A tall woman with a graceful neck, Firedale born, was next with her requests.
“My Lord, Firedale asks that you send Shadow Saints to them in aid for recent troubles.“
“How many soldiers did we send to Firedale last time?“
“Two-hundred, Saint.”
“Charge them extra for the same amount, I don't want them thinking we're at their beck and call. How are things going with Firedale entering the Albalon Alliance?“
“Very good, Saint.”
“Send them our hopes for further interaction once they join and also our regrets on the increased rate per soldier.“
“Yes, Saint Coyote.”

A very squat man who was almost wider than he was tall was next, nearly passed over by lack of height.
“My Lord, Saint Coyote. I offer a letter of welcome from My Lady Elsa, who wishes an audience with you at haste.“

Coyote stopped walking and the crowd settled around him.
“Countess Elsa, you say?”
“Yes, Saint.”

Coyote didn't need reminding, he remembered very well the enchanting woman he met in the court of King Lotta.
It had been just after Kaelic had been slain and Tom Corleona captured. Yet while Tom had escaped, the evening had not been a total loss.

The Prince of Calnin, Lotta's own son, had helped Tom escape and had been sentenced to death for it. Just as well, the young man was too greedy for his own good.
On top of that, Coyote had met the Countess Elsa, a bewitching woman of no small power who ruled over the city of Misty Vale and the lands surrounding.

She had been stunning that night and Coyote knew all too well her intentions as she had maneuvered the pair with both conversation and body language.
He smiled to himself for a bit before responding to the round little man.
“Is the nature of the audience for Guild business.“
“My Lady does not say, Saint.“
“Tell the Countess that I regret my busy nature and that I also regret having been unable to speak with her since we met in Calnin. Inform her that once my schedule clears, I would be honored to speak with her at great length.“

The squat man nodded and then shuffled off.

The pack began moving again with Coyote at it's center, still answering question shot seemingly at random towards him.

It wasn't until they reached the main hall, a huge marble encased grand entry with massive white stairs that circled the chamber, gold inlaid between each tile and stair, that the questions stopped.

A guard rushed in through the front door, holding a letter above his head.

“My Lord, Saint Coyote! Saint Coyote!”

Coyote broke from the group of attendants and halted the guard. “What is it?”

“A messenger, sir! They dropped this off without an explanation! Its addressed to you!“

Coyote took the expensive paper from the guard and scanned it with his eyes.

It was indeed addressed to him.
It also bore the royal insignia of Calnin, King Lottas' own seal.

[Coyote]

Coyote had been given the strange letter by the guard and had retreated with Arrakis to discuss the meaning of the unannounced package.
The pair held their meeting in one of the many rooms dedicated to records and keeping track of who owed the Saints how much. The hall was lined with tall shelves, filled to the brim with maps and charts, long tables like that found in a mess hall filled to overflowing with scrolls and papers lined along the floor, all bearing seals and sigils that spoke of their professional and secret contents. The place was at first glance a mess, but the people in charge claimed they had an organization to their madness, though Coyote had no idea how to decipher it. Even with all the advances since laying claim to San Umbra, some things still had yet to settle in.

The state of the room though mattered little to the pair. Coyote lounged in a red velvet backed oak chair, arm rests polished to a high shine. He was slumped slightly, feet propped up on the table, looking between his boots at the piece of paper lying on the polished surface of the desk, as if waiting for it to pounce. Arrakis stood nearby, his back to a warm and simmering fire that glinted off his armor-like scales and reflected on the table before him.

“Read it again, Arrakis,” Coyote asked for a third time with a wave of his fingers, still trying to find some hint as to the cryptic innards of the mysterious contact.
Arrakis daintily picked up the correspondence from among the scattered papers with his razor sharp claws and held it out, his cat eyes focusing in the fire light to tiny pin points of sulfur.

“To Saint Coyote,
Your assistance is needed in great earnest by the royal family of Calnin. With all due speed, make haste to the city. The Albalon Alliance may depend on it.“

Arrakis looked up from his third reading of the page.

“It is unsigned. As it was the first two times I read it.“

Coyote caught the intended message and understood the demon's frustration, but he gave it no mind.
“Why would Calnin send a request for Saints? They know the procedure, the proper channels to ask for soldiers.“
He looked up at the demon before him, who was carefully laying the folded paper back onto the table.
“How is the embassy in Calnin coming along?”
“On time, Master. Even if it was not, there are still embedded Saints within Calnin's borders they could contact for a mission. Sending a messenger from the court itself is highly unorthodox and unprofessional.“

“Indeed. Not to mention a messenger who gives no explanation as to their reasoning or duties.“
He picked the letter up from the table and aimed it at the fire, holding it dangerously close to the flames.
“I could ignore it. They failed to follow proper channels, so we're at no responsibility to them.“

“Yes, my Lord,” Arrakis hissed, “but maybe that is the reason itself. The letter is not addressed to the Saints. It is addressed to you personally.“
Coyote nodded, flipping the letter between his fingers, opening it once more and pulling it from the flames.
“It also mentions the Alliance depending on my presence. If this went through normal channels, it would attract the attention of Dratlin, at the very least. I doubt Sakin has any time nowadays for intrigue.“

He held the letter up, watching the light pass through the paper in dancing shadows.
“What could be so important that Calnin does not want the other Alliance nations to know about it?
“Again, Master, read deeper.”

Coyote paused, then nodded, prodded on by Arrakis' analytical mind.
“Not Calnin. The Royal Family. King Lotta, to be specific. This isn't national, it personnel. King Lotta needs our help, my help specifically.“
He scanned his eyes over at the demon.
“But for what?”
Arrakis smiled, bronze teeth flashing in a mock grin. “It does inspire no little curiosity, even in me, Master.“

Coyote smiled back, his own sharp teeth a common reflection between the two. “So, King Lotta, a man of no small arrogance, sends the leader of the Shadow Saints a personnel letter through unofficial channels to avoid suspicion, a letter that pleads for secret aid. On top of that, the very nature of it's delivery suggests secrecy and something hidden and dangerous."

His eyes fleshed, but not from the fire.

"Your right, Arrakis, this is intriguing.“

“And anything that is dangerous to a man as powerful as King Lotta would certainly be of powerful leverage in further dealing with the King.“

Coyote glanced sideways at the demonic creature before him.
“Arrakis, your starting to sound more like a conniving human and less like a demon everyday.“
“You would be surprised at how easy it is to transition from one to the other, Master.“

Coyote carefully placed the letter in his pocket on the inside of his robes, protectively close to his chest. He hopped out of the chair, knocking a small pile of papers from the table and onto the floor, not bothering to pick it up.
“Then we're off to Calnin, old friend. Inform the Guild of our absence, we'll be off in the morning.“

Arrakis followed Coyote with his eyes as the Lycanthrope started for the door.
“Both of us, Master? The letter asked for just you.”
“Of course,” Coyote turned back, “ but if King Lotta is so intent on contacting us, we'll travel in pairs. Better to have two witnesses than just one who can be conveniently dispatched.“

Arrakis smiled wickedly.
“Your starting to think like a demon more and more, Master.“
“Am I?” Coyote shot back before leaving.

Arrakis smiled at the doorway for his own benefit.
“I couldn't be any more proud of you.”

[Ridley]

'Calnin eh?' he thought to himself as he watched from the darkness of the shadows.

He had overheard the entire conversation. After defeating the demon king on his own terms and escaping from the defilers and other horrors of the darkness, Ridley had reactivated the mental link he had with Arrakis, his general. After which he had been keeping a close eye on his brother.

'I wonder how I'll be welcomed...' he thought to himself with a slight smile.

Ridley had become more carefree these past few months. He had been missing for most of the year now, and had been quietly dispatching and rebuilding Demos for the former emperor. He had secretly murdered the entire armies, all of the high priests, and even the women and children, of the once mighty island empire. But this was all done because of a contract he had made with the emperor himself.

This was a pact he had made before he had undergone the transformation from man to demon lord. But the pact had some slight miscalculations by the emperor. Ridley had decided on relieving himself of the demonic soul and transferred the god of the demons onto the emperor.

In exchange for the power of the god, the emperor of Demos would allow Ridley to leave and would spare the rest of the known world. Of course, Ridley didn't believe a word of it. But he did know that there were rules even for those who lived in a world of darkness, deceit, and chaos.

A smirk crossed his face as he watched his brother Coyote and Arrakis exit the building. Keeping himself hidden in the shadows, he followed close behind.

[Coyote]

Word spreads fast in the castle and within minutes of Coyote's decision to leave, he was already being hammered by opposition from all sides, begging and pleading him not to go.
“Saint, much work must be done! You still need to meet visiting dignitaries from Firedale as well as approve severla mission than Sakin is in need of.“

Coyote listend only half heartedly as he packed a bag with clothes and supplies he would need. He was able to pack light, a blessing if anything, and onyl needed a few pairs of clothes and the bare minimum of survival gear to get by in the wilderness between the Shadow Lands and Calnin.

“The Firedale nobles, has their business been concluded?“
“Well, yes, Saint, but you still need to meet them to finalize the deal.“
“I already signed the approval, what more do they want.“
“Just a chance to meet you in person, Saint.”

He turned form his bag to the narrow faced man behind him. “So what your saying is they want to meet me for no other reason than to make my acquaintance.“
“Y-yes, Saint.”

Coyote sighed.
“I'll walk into the room, make nice for about ten minutes, then they'll attack me with every bit of flattery and flowery words they can manage, all in an effort to gain some favor from me for a later date. You can tell them that I have no interest in further business that does not include transaction for the Guild. If they want to make friends, tell them to talk to Lord Huvein, he's very eager for them to stop dragging their feet and sign the Allience papers. I really don't care if they think my absence is rude, maybe they'll remember that when the very same ass kisser didn't show up at the peace table when the Alliance was formed.“

The man paused, face drained of blood, stark white like a sheet.
“I-is that what I should tell them, Saint?”

Again, Coyote sighed, the weight of his very small, but heavy, world on his shoulders.
“Tell them I regret my absence and that I invite them back to the castle to further our dealings at a future date.“
“Yes, Saint.”

The man turned and left the room, followed unknowingly by Coyote's glaring eyes.“
“Sycophant.” He mumbled.

“He's your sycophant, Master.”
The wall of Coyote's room rippled like slush and through the wall stepped Arrakis, clothes and concealed from head to toe in Saint garb.
“That's what makes it even worse, Arrakis. He works for me.“ Coyote replied, shoving a spare pair of hiking boots into the last bit of empty space in his pack.
“I'm surrounded by politicians and delegates and petitioners and lobbyists on every side!“

Arrakis was smiling.
“What?”
“You knew full well what you were getting into. Throwing your hat in with Huvein indebted you to this gaggle of mocking fools. They think your one of them, they think you can be bought with words and pleasures. When that doesn't work, they have nothing left and can do nothing but stare blankly ahead. Your an enigma to them, Master. A soldier who has political power. You make decisions both on and off the bloody battlefield, you kill the men and send men to die. They want that power for themselves, but they can't take it from you.“

“Why is that, Arrakis?”

“Because you were a soldier first and have that loyalty still in you. It's your defense against them and no matter how many times they batter at your gates, they can't break through.“

Coyote closed his bag and tied to opening shut, pulling over a flap to keep rain out.
“Now you know why I get away from here so often.”
“I always knew, Master, I was just never as amused about it as I am now.“

Coyote glared. “Let's just get out of here.”
“Agreed.”

----------------------------------------

Off on the trail and away from the mansion, Coyote and Arrakis trekked along one of the many roads blazed through the shadow lands, in the midst of tall trees that surrounded them. The beat of the surf was just on the edge of their ears and the salt was evident in the scent of the air. Both clothed in the robes of the Guild, they were two black pillars moving silently, topped with ancient straw hats, red runes on their clothing, stark, but muted, their shapes and identities nondescript.
One was towering, the other shorter, other than that, no one would be able to recall their presence or description.

Not that they needed such secrecy on an abandoned road, but precautions were needed when motives were to be hidden.

Especially when they were being followed.

Coyote stopped first, Arrakis halting just behind him, hovering over his shoulder.

The smell...

The trees exploded in violence, whipping and twisting the forest into a maelstrom that reflected the inner rage of Coyote.

"What do you want, Ridley?"

[Ridley]

"Heh..." Ridley chuckled, a smirk coming across his pale face, it had been many months since he had witnessed such power.

He slowly walked from the pathway, dressed from head to toe in what appeared to be a black cloak, the hood pulled back to reveal his face. To the untrained eye, however, Ridley's blade was concealed beneath it's many folds. But the eyes of his brother were far from untrained.

"What I want? I want to spend time with my kid brother. I want to enjoy my new found freedom. Or perhaps I'd just like to take a leisurely stroll down memory lane?" Ridley stated as he walked up to Coyote.

It had been a while since he had spoken to or seen his brother up close. He always kept a safe distance, but now was not the time. He had to approach him. Had to forgive himself for abandoning him during his time of need.

Ridley was far from the perfect sibling. If there were words to describe it, this man was more of an evil twin to Coyote. He had made changes though. His blade hadn't tasted life in many months, now being only used when he had to. That madness that had consumed his world was now completely gone.

"I merely wanted to make my presence known, in case you were wondering," Ridley said, "We both know that I'm a master at concealing myself. If I wanted to stay hidden, you know I would've. Or maybe I'm just getting too old. I dunno really..." Ridley scratched his matted hair and stared up at Arrakis.

The two met glances and Ridley grinned wide.

"My, how you've grown!" Ridley erupted into laughter.

[Coyote]

"My, how you've grown!"

The words were like venom to Coyote. They burned as soon as he heard them and left a nasty taste in his mouth, as if he had spoken them himself.
Ridley had vanished out of thin air, with no explanation or reasoning behind his disappearance, leaving Coyote to pick up the pieces of the Guild left behind to him.

Maybe it was a little bit taking exception to his half-brother dumping that responsibility on Coyote, something he tried as hard as he could to avoid taking on, but it was mostly the sudden reappearance rather than the missing that pissed him off.
All this time and he just pops back in, expecting everything to pick up where they had left off?

That suddenly, that quickly?
Wild accusations flooded his head as he looked calmly across the short distance to Ridley where he now stood.
He had done all the work and now Ridley was going to take back control of the SS, reaping the benefits of Coyote's labors.

Or maybe Ridley sought to destroy everything Coyote had worked for, for whatever reason he had. Making sense in a rational manner was not one of his brother's better traits.

Related only through the spiritual link their demonic origins had, Ridley being the physical son and Coyote the spiritual one, he saw reflected back at him both what he saw good and bad in himself. The traits of power and command mixed in with slow and inevitable madness.

He hated him for that.

"Is that all you have to say too me? You call me brother, but what right do you have to call em that? We're barely related, and that relation is a demented one. You abandoned me, Ridley. Out of thin air, you abandoned me and the others, left me to handle the mess you left behind."
"And your right, I have grown. More than you think, more than you could know. Very little of the me you knew is left, both for good and bad."

He sighed, averting his gaze away from his brother.

"I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am. I don't why you went away, but I'm sure you have your reasons for it. Since you've been following us, I guess you already know where we're heading and you may have some interest in it. If you'd like to come along, you may. I always said to myself you'd have a place among the Saints when you left. Please, though, don't act like everything is fine."

He turned back his gaze at the Dragonis, the trees silencing their racket and the wind returning back to the south where it came from.
"I'm glad your back, but please just give me some time before embracing me as a brother again. It'll take some getting used too, I'm afraid."

[Ridley]

Ridley stood completely silent, letting everything Coyote had said sink in. He knew this would happen. He understood what Coyote was talking about. But there was nothing he could've done to prevent what needed to be done. There was nothing he could've done to save everyone from the hell that was going to be brought upon them. So, he left to deal with it alone. That drove him mad, brought him to the brink of insanity, and had weakened his resolve.

"The demon god..." Ridley said, walking past Arrakis and Coyote, "...our father...was trying to control me. He whiped out all of the empire of Demos. It was my fault that it happened."

The Dragonis stopped and turned, staring directly at Coyote, his face one of complete seriousness.

"There was nothing I could do to prevent it from happening. In order to save everyone, I had to leave and deal with it on my own. I understand your feelings, I understand that it has been hard on you. But now you have to understand..." he stopped, brushing his hair from his face, "...that I had to be the hero this time. I was forced to defeat my own father by passing his spirit on to someone who can hold him at bay long enough for me to get stronger.

"In order for that to happen, I have to come back. I'm deeply sorry for all the hardships you've been dealing with these past few months. I also regret that I had to leave. You must understand, the world depended on my actions."

He shifted his gaze from Coyote and Arrakis to the ground.

"I have shown weakness and have killed innocents before. But now things are different. I only drawn my blade and my power whenever life is threatened. I no longer need to rely on my father's legacy to become something evil and wretched. This is my path...my life...and my destiny."

[Coyote]

OOC: Sorry for the wait, Enzo. The weather messes with my RP Mojo.

IC:

Coyote listened, taking in Ridley's words and the account of his time spent away.
"Well, if that is the path you need to walk, we might as well walk it together then."

He tipped his hat down below his face and walked past Ridley, a place at his side for his brother to join him, Arrakis opposite and on the left side.
The three paced evenly down that abandoned road, three who had not walked along the same path in a long time; a demon, a man who would be a demon and a man absolving himself of his demon.

They were silent, not needed words, or in Coyote's case, not wanting them.
Long roads though have a way of forcing conversation even when it isn't desired. Eventually, Coyote spoke to Ridley, just a slight hint of resentment in his voice.

"You've been gone for a long time, Ridley, a lot has changed," he said with no small accusation.
"The Shadow Saints could be considered legit now. After the World War, there needed to be a stabilizer in the area. Albalon was nearly torn apart in the war; Sakin fell to it's mad former ruler, who by the way, vanished again. his absence created a power vacuum that we had to help seal and just a short month ago, we moved in and settled things right with the city. I felt it was appropriate since you helped put Lloyd back on the throne."

It was a cheap jab and Coyote knew it was, but he still felt good about saying it. He also knew it would be a long time before he could look at Ridley the same way again. For now, he kept his kasa hiding his face from his older brother, a physical barrier to the emotional one he put up between the two sibling.

"Sakin is in a mes, but it's allies are helping to put things right. Our actions there have pretty much made us famous. We've been getting requests every day from other nations as far as Kaine to lend aid. We also handle any... secretive business they may have, things they don't want their own hands to be dirtied with."
"We're a lot bigger too. Our army is the size of a small nation. There aren't as many Saints as there were when you last showed your face, but the one who are left are the best. I'd stack them up against a dozen men any day. Taint'D comes and goes as he pleases, last I heard he was skulking around Dynasty. You remember Dynasty? Our old friend Corleona? Put me through a wall when I tried to hand him over to judgment; you should have seen the look on his face."

"Kinjo is missing, Grob fell off the face of the earth and Nigrify..."
Coyote paused, biting his lip.
"She comes and goes."

Thoughts of Loupine manifested against Coyote's will.
"By the way...your an uncle now."
"See? I told you. Things have changed a lot since you left."
There was no small bit of pride in his tone.

[Ridley]

"Yes, a lot has changed. As for Corleone, I'm sure you just got a taste of history repeating itself. I tried to hand him over before, he did the same thing to me," Ridley said with a slight chuckle, "I swear, we fought for such a long time that we almost decimated an entire city!"

Ridley chuckled again, pulling his hood closer over his head. He hid his face from the light, his eyes being bothered by the brightness. He hadn't seen the sun in a while, stuck in the darkness.

"Bah..." Ridley sighed and pulled his hood back, allowing his face to become washed by the suns rays. He felt cleansed.

'So...Sakin was saved. Thank the gods...' Ridley thought to himself, 'Lloyd was never good for that country.'

"I'm sorry Coyote...I brought the madness of Lloyd into the world by not finishing him when I had the chance. And I had many. But it was Tom's wish that I allow him to live, despite the differences we had. Times were different then as well, more of a time of war. And Lloyd was needed.

"My only wish now, is to cleanse the world of my wrongs and start over. I want to vanquish my father for good. I want to fix things that I've messed up. I know that by coming back to you here, that I'll be able to do that."

Ridley looked over at his brother, "Oh, and by the way, I was in Sakin. I'm sure you realized it."

[Coyote]

“I thought that was you, Ridley. What were you trying to do, announce your presence to the whole world? Red mist? That's your calling card.“

He wasn't in the mood to play nice with his elder brother, not now, not any time soon. He was going to ride this trip till it got old, and considering the pit in his stomach whenever he looked at Ridley, it would be a long time until he got tired of it.

The path was lonely as was the trip the three took. Any questions Ridley had were either answered by Arrakis on Coyote's behalf or curtly responded too by the Lycanthrope himself with the absolute minimum of words; that was there would be less of a need to communicate.
The nights were spent sleeping off the trail, just as silent as the days were. Before long the three made good time and found themselves entering the lands of Calnin under the guise of anonymity. Nobody, pilgrim or trader alike, paid much attention to them, giving very little notice to three non descriptive travelers, far more concerned were they on their own traveling or their goods for profit. The country side was dotted with huge plantations manned by hundreds of farm hands, all under the command of a complex system of feudal nature, leading all the way up to the very top, King Lotta himself.

One of the oldest monarchies still thriving, Lotta's family had been in control of Calnin for decades, certainly as far back as a current history book would care to go, never mind that the throne had been taken by force.
Rightfully though, the previous line had been less than pleasing for the common folk.
Ancient history by today's standards, but it always left a doom hanging above the royal family head.
The law of Calnin was simple; profit or death.
Money ruled here and that made it safer than usual. Anyone with the cash could be assured anything; life, safety, food and protection, all of it coming with the sound of falling coins.

The knowledge was security and Coyote knew that it would be to their benefit, both personally and to the Shadow Saints.

He peered from below his hat towards Ridley, who at the moment was looking out over the rolling farmlands, taking a deep appreciation of the light on the waving wheat.
Ridley's business was his own, but Coyote could see the change in his elder brother, feel it even. Something heavy had been lifted from those weary shoulders and it wasn't just Ridley's demeanor that had been saved by the hefting of the burden. Maybe it had saved his soul and sanity as well.

The three were on a ridge, looking out over the farmlands as before, far in the distance the dominating city of Calnin,it's huge walls surrounding it with miles of fields all around. The plantations that sustained the city sprawled everywhere and buzzed with the work of the field men, sweating and working in the hot noon sun.

“I imagine you heard why I was heading here, right?”
It was the first time he had spoken to Ridley without a sharp tongue since they had begun the trip.

Ridley turned away from the scene before him, taking notice of the softer tone Coyote had. “No more than you do. Secret letter from the King of Calnin; sounds pretty important.“

Coyote nodded.
“I told you that I went after Tom, but what I didn't say was that it was King Lotta who convinced me to do it. We tried to bring Tom in and we failed terribly. In the process though, we uncovered a plot by the Prince of Calnin, Lotta's son, to overthrow his father. The Prince let Tom go loose and was going to use the incident as a means to dethrone his father and cast his rule under suspicion by the other nations of the Allience. I was able to uncover his involvement in the escape and the Prince is currently waiting execution in a dungeon somewhere.“

“Do you think that Lotta intends to pay you back for helping him?“

“By the Spirit's I hope not. Lotta is the man you do not wanted to owe or be owed by. His idea of doing you a favor is drastically different than what normal people would consider a 'favor' to be. He either wants to shake my hand or cut it off.“
He chewed on his lip a bit, mulling his thoughts over.
“Then again, with all the secrecy, I really don't know what he wants.“

Ridley smiled, far more lighthearted than Coyote was.
“No better way to find out than to go, little brother.“ He flung his bag onto his back from the ground and set off down the steep hill towards the farmlands and then on too Calnin.

Coyote narrowed his eyes at Ridley's back before following.

Arrakis watched, wondering exactly at what point had the two brothers exchanged demeanor.

[Ridley]

'He's starting to accept me again, that's good,' Ridley thought as he walked on down the hill.

He had never personally met with the king of Calnin, but he knew the type. Secrecy he knew all too well as well. People like Lotta were despicable, the worst kind of person. They treated their people unfairly and favored the rich. He could tell that just because of the poor folk working out in the fields, day in and day out. It was a job, he supposed, and what better reward than protection from a stuck up king in a foolish kingdom.

He didn't want any part of Lotta, except for maybe his head on a pike. No no, that part of the former demon was behind him. He didn't like Lotta's type, but he hadn't even met the man and had already made assumptions. Then again, you'd have to be a fool to try to capture Tom Corleone. He was power incarnate. Nothing could stop him, especially if he had unleashed his...other.

Ridley had stood toe-to-toe with the giant of a man. They had fought long and fought hard, with Tom standing victorious, but barely. That was when Ridley had his own inner demon working for him. But now, however, Ridley had nothing to boost his own powers. It would take long, hard work to catch up to his rival.

But the prince who had used Tom in order to overthrow his father and force a war, that intrigued him. He wanted to know more about this plan. It seemed like he could attempt to question the prince if they met. Maybe they would. And if they couldn't meet face to face, perhaps he could get some answers from Lotta himself.

These were the thoughts that Ridley kept as the trio of adventurers entered the city...

[Coyote]

Calnin was arguably the wealthiest city in the north, and by far the most well off concerning trade and business. Gold had long dominated the city's goals and over the years it was well known that riches were to be had in the kingdom, both legitimate and ill gains for those with the courage to take them. The walls were patrolled heavily, giving a commanding view of the city and it's surrounding farmland which the group made good time passing through. Ridley, Coyote and Arrakis decided to pass through the smaller western gate of the city after minimal debate, the three other larger entrances to Calnin either reserved for trade or packed tightly with wagons and caravans waiting to be let into the city after a thorough inspection.

Calnin guards, bedecked in blue and gold armor, draped in fine heraldry, the color of royal blood and money, let them pass through without so much as a second glance, just more shapes in the crowd, while those behind them were stopped for inspection by the stern men. Coyote was glad for the lack of attention given to them. Calnin guards were notorious for their ability to sniff out any illegal substances or smuggled taxable goods and were stationed to protect the city as much as they were to ensure that everything brought into Calnin's domain to be sold at market was taxed for the Crown's fair share.

Not that the trio were carrying anything illegal, mind you, but Coyote would not be thrilled to be the subject of an in depth patting down, especially while in the accompany of his notorious brother Ridley and a towering demonic monster. All his pull in the Saints and with the Alliance would be very little to placate the unfortunate beat cop who asked for either of them to declare their belongings.

The streets were packed as tightly as the gates were, even more so because they moved slower, blocked with bazaars and carts lined along the street, merchants shouting from all sides, hocking their wares and assaulting them at every turn. The streets were cobblestone paved and in many places showed wear and tear with overturned stone and mud littering the paths, traffic nearly nonstop and offering no time for repair. The buildings were in better state and showed an 'old money' sense of style, wrought iron and white plaster kept up to snuff simply because the tenets had the money to keep their domiciles looking good, for both ascetic and public appearances.

Coyote's nose picked up the smells all around them and they sent chills up the back of his neck, lancing down into his gut like lightning in his belly. The aroma of roasting meat and warm ale wafting from the numerous front doors of the taverns that dominated the walkway called to him with a siren's song.

He suddenly remembered that they had been traveling for quite some time and his stomach growled like a distressed beast at the thought.
"Let's stop somewhere for a while. I could use something to eat."

Ridley didn't seem to protest and Coyote was sure he was just as ravenous as he was.
They chose a establishment at random and entered. The dive they walked into was well suited for the trio; lots of tables set near the walls and dark corners allowed a good view of the doorway at all times, making a nervous man feel secure for a little while as he nursed a drink.
No one greeted them to seat the group, so they found their own way into the bar, Coyote finding a table large enough for them to sit at.
Ridley and Coyote were seated, but Arrakis looked down at the tiny chair set before him, rickety legs and all.
"I think I'll stand."

[Ridley]

Ridley grinned at his companion, oh how he had loved to tease the demon, even when they were younger.

"Come now, do you expect us to allow you to stand?" Ridley said with a grin to Coyote.

Arrakis' expression didn't change. He would not sit. Ridley sighed, defeated. A young girl, barely into adulthood, approached them. Ridley suddenly became very serious, something about her stood out, something he recognized, but it didn't come to him at the moment. A fire within his gut began to burn as his brother made his order. Some old memories began to flood his mind.

"What're you having?"

Ridley blinked and looked to Coyote. "Huh?" he replied, looking confused.

"What're you having?" Coyote repeated.

Ridley rubbed his eyes and shook his head, "I'll have an ale, make sure it's cold, and some stew if it's available."

"You alright?" Coyote asked.

"Eh...old memories," Ridley replied, one hand absently resting on the hilt of his blade under the table. He felt more secure knowing it was there. Imagine what would've happened if the guards of Calnin would've found it on him. Ridley Pertenza, notorious thief, murderer, and former ally to Tom Corleone. Ah, what a welcome they would've received then...