Wolf Pack: BattleTech Legends, #3 by Robert N. Charrette

Author:Robert N. Charrette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catalyst Game Labs
Published: 2016-05-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Dechan Fraser stopped down the street from the mansion that had been a reward from Theodore Kurita for loyal service. At first he thought his tired eyes were confused, tricked by the evening light. He recognized the mane and beard of gray, the short, compact silhouette. Though he had not worn one in years, he knew the Dragoon dress uniform as well. He could not be mistaken. This unexpected guest waiting by his gate was Colonel Jaime Wolf.

He had heard a rumor that the duel had been postponed, but he never imagined that Wolf would make a visit to Dechan Fraser part of his itinerary. Curious, confused, and not a little angry, Dechan walked up to his former commander. “Looking for someone?”

Wolf turned and glanced up at him. “Dechan, you’re looking well.”

Ignoring the offered hand, Dechan said, “Receiving visitors in the street is bad manners. Please, come in.”

Dechan palmed the lock and, when the door opened, gestured that Wolf should precede him. The Colonel entered and gave his cloak to the servant who appeared, then disappeared just as silently. Dechan led him into the common room where the servants had prepared tea and a tray of small cakes. There was a third cup beside his and Jenette’s; the servants had known the visitor was waiting.

“I hope I’m not troubling you,” Wolf said in pale imitation of Kuritan politeness. He looked for a chair and, finding none, knelt awkwardly in the Kuritan fashion.

“Do itashimashite,” said Dechan, kneeling too. As he did, he realized how easily he had slipped into the formal role of host and begun speaking in Japanese. The Kurita style had become a part of his own: politeness hiding personal feelings to make all smooth and to save face.

Wolf took Dechan’s response as a cue and continued his pleasantries in Japanese. He was quite fluent and his standard remarks sounded more sincere. Dechan poured tea for himself and his guest. They spoke of the weather and Wolf’s trip, but a disquiet underlay the formal conversation. Finally Wolf broke off the polite noise and said, “Will Jenette be here soon?”

“Hai. I would have expected her to be here already.”

“Good. I wanted to talk to the both of you.”

Seemingly satisfied, Wolf said nothing more. Dechan sat in the awkward silence, old pain gnawing at the shield of politeness. He reached for the kettle to refill his cup and misjudged. When his skin touched hot metal, he snatched his hand back. He wanted to suck on the burn, to cool it, but refused to show weakness before this man. Not now. Not after so long. Pent-up frustration burst forth in words.

“Why now? I had expected to hear something when you were last on Luthien.”

If Wolf was surprised by the outburst, he didn’t show it. Placing his cup carefully on the tray, he said, “We hadn’t come to end the feud.”

“But you fought for Kurita,” Dechan accused.

“We were under contract to Davion.”

Dechan shook his head in disbelief. “So a contract was more important than a blood feud.

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