Ok. So I dunno about this chapter. Hope it's okay to you. Please read and review, and tell me if I've done anything wrong or something.
Also, many thanks to Jarrtail and Jade TeaLeaf for reviewing. It just makes my day :)
And in case you don't know, 'hob' means male weasel, 'reynard' and 'dog-fox' mean male fox, just so you don't get confused ;)
~Persarr~
Four seasons. Four seasons of awful memories. Even when those four seasons had passed since the storm, the ex-captain Reim could remember that day as if he were at the seaport of Meddn during the tempest all over again.
The magnificent typhoon had swept woodlanders, corsairs, and merchants alike off of their footpaws, dragging many of them to a watery death in the tides' currents. Barges were thrown apart, sails ripping as if made of the thinnest paper, masts tearing from their positions and thrown into the roiling waves. Everything within twenty five leagues was damaged, or else destroyed completely.
The searat sighed and sank down into his cushioned armchair. He, though, had been luckier than most.
With sharp authority, Captain Reim had rounded up all of his crewmates in the tavern that were able enough to work a ship, whether they were willing to or not. The injured group of his shipmates had felt themselves lucky to stay in the lodge and not to be travelling with their captain; however, they soon found out they weren't so fortunate.
Pointing paws and running out of the Rusty Dagger, Reim pointed out his ship to his followers. It was miraculously almost untouched, at least compared to the other pathetic torn-apart boats, with only a few nicks in his boat's build and miniscule tears in the new sail. The captain rushed aboard, and began yelling orders and giving everybeast a job. The captain even swore he'd seen a few vermin that weren't part of his crew, but they still obliged to his every order in hopes of surviving the deadly storm.
Most everybeast on the barge had the job of rowing, even forcing some to paddle oars in the slaves' quarters because of lack of room. To make things harder, the wind and sea were buffeting against the boat in the opposite direction, as if testing its strength, throwing many sailors off balance and sending a few overboard. To make things even worse, his new first mate, Koert, whose fur was unfortunately thin, had suffered from a small case of hypothermia; and was lapsing in and out of consciousness at random times. That made it harder to control what was left of his crew.
But despite these obstacles, Reim was still determined. He held the tiller with a small air of uncertainty that was dominated hastily by persistence. It was difficult to keep his grip on the wheel, and the fierce gales pulled him away from it multiple times. He tried to block out the cries of his shipmates, and concentrated on getting his ship away from the storm.
The former searat flinched slightly. Now that he thought more about his crew's suffering, he realized that without them, he would have never made it back to his home alive. He'd sacrificed a third of his capable shipmates just to survive, and only returned with one third of the entire amount of vermin he'd brought to Meddn in the first place. But, Reim reminded himself, most of them he didn't know personally, as they initially had signed up to go to the port without meeting him first. He definitely didn't care as much about them as... as his brother.
Velaire... he thought sorrowfully, not for the first time since that fateful day. Reim had been swarmed with thoughts about the elder rat almost every day after his departure of the island, and they were all torture to him. Shipmates would sometimes see a loose tear sliding down their captain's face, but when it was remarked on, the rat would use the excuse that the drop was "just seaspray."
Now that he contemplated it further, though, Reim felt a horrible mixture of grief and furious anger. Vengeance toward his brother's killer, the ferret that Koert had told him about, now felt like the only option he had to make sure Velaire's death was avenged.
However, the more he thought about it, the worse of an idea it seemed. How could he even find the killer? The mustelid could be dead by now for all he knew. Reim scratched his head. Unfortunately, he wasn't a captain anymore. He couldn't commandeer a ship without a license, and the rat refused to go to sea again. It was too dangerous; he wasn't as reckless as he had been four seasons ago. Reim still had a good amount of years under his belt, and he wasn't about to die in some freak accident.
As Reim had been reminiscing, a weasel of thirty seasons quietly entered the rat's room. The weasel gently cleared his throat and coughed into his paw, but with no effect to the ex-captain. Rolling his eyes, the silver hob reached to tap Reim on the shoulder, but the rat's paw slapped him away.
"What'cha want?" growled Reim, looking up at the weasel, "You interrupted my thinking." The rat stared icily at his servant, who innocently and calmly returned the gaze.
"Sir, it seems you have a visitor. It's a fox who says he has urgent business with you," replied the mustelid assistant.
Reim stood up quickly from his armchair, and demanded, "Did 'e say 'is name? An' was 'e threatenin' yew? Wha' did 'e look like? ... Speak, Sergio!"
The weasel said simply, "He didn't say his name, he wasn't at all threatening, and he was around eighteen seasons old, Master. He seemed very... eager to speak with you." With that, Sergio bowed regally and left the room.
Grumbling, the rat gathered himself and followed his servant out of the comfy quarters. Although he wasn't rich, Reim still had enough gold from his plundering ships before the storm to pay the butler that came with his house.
As Reim trudged along, he began to wonder. Who was this fox? He had had a lot of dog-foxes on his crew, and he couldn't think of one in particular that would want to see him right now. Jarec? Nah, he was washed overboard. Garsyn? Ugh, he'd always hated me, couldn't be him. Ciaran? Or maybe Rippgor...
The possibilities kept whirling through the rat's head as he approached the open door with the awaiting fox, the sun shining brightly behind him. Reim ran into Sergio as his servant stopped in front of the entryway. The weasel turned to the rat, bowed, and stepped into the shadows.
"Well?" snarled the former captain, realizing that the dog-fox was none that he'd mentally guessed, "Who are yew and what d'ya want?"
The young fox did look familiar though. Now why do I remember him...? thought Reim.
The answer came when the reynard spoke, "Cap'n Reim, don't you recognize me? It's Koert, yer old firs' mate! I came by 'cause I found out you lived 'ere, and after you the crew and I went our seperate ways, things 'aven't been goin' very well wit' me. There're tough times around 'ere and-"
The rat cut his old mate off, surprised. "'Ey, Koert! It's been a while. 'Ow's life? And why'd ye come all the way over 'ere?"
Stepping over the threshold and clearing his throat, the red fox continued, "Right. I was wonderin' if you'd, er, mind me stayin' here, Cap'n, not long, but enough so I c'n get my bearings back, y'know, 'til I can git a house of my own, or at least some money." With a barely audible gulp, Koert shuffled his footpaws, already reluctantly anticipating a firm 'no.'
Reim sighed and began, "First of all, Koert, stop callin' me 'Cap'n', I ain't yer captain no more, an' I don't exactly plan on goin' back to bein' one. Ever. We're almost equals now, mate... almost."
Koert nodded silently, and his old captain went on, "And, well... whatever 'appened to yer girlfriend, eh, what's 'er name, Cecile? Don't she 'ave family ye can stay with?"
The dog-fox chuckled and said, "I've been through two other vixens after Cecile, Cap-- I mean Reim. I 'ave no girlfriend at the moment. An' I 'don't 'ave any money for a lodge or anythin'."
"Well, 'ell'steeth," cursed Reim, hesitating, and then going on. "I guess ye can, but not as long as until ye get a house. Get a job some'ow, and earn money t'pay to stay in a lodge." The rat then addressed his servant. "Sergio, set up a room for the fox. Put some extra sheets on the bed and make it clean."
The weasel nodded emotionlessly and walked away. Koert watched the assistant curiously, then remarked, "'Ey, if you really don't wan' me t'stay 'ere, jus' give me some money for a room in an inn or somethin'. If you can afford to pay a servant, then can'tcha jus' give me money an' send me on my way?"
"Don't push it," snapped the rat, "It's a bit easier ta house yew here than send you away wit' my money."
The reynard acknowleged the fact, then pushed back his ears and said, "Right. Shouldn't'a thought about it in the first place, Reim. "
Ex-captain Reim nodded curtly, "Mhm." The two former shipmates stood together in silence until the captain began, "Well now, yew need a job ter make money, roight? What're ye good at?"
After a few seconds of thinking, the fox came up with something, "We-ell... I've been told I'm smart, an' I can play the piano, an'--"
"Something useful, boy!" growled the rat angrily. The young fox was getting slightly obnoxious now.
Another few moments passed, and Koert said, "Well, I c'n take care o' kits. My sister 'ad lots of'em. Annoying lot they were, but I c'n take care o' little ones. Any job I could find 'ere like that?"
Reim buried his head in his paws and sighed, "If y'were female, then y'could find a job like that! Damnit, Koert, babysitting's a job fer vixens an' the like, not a tough corsair like you were. Besides, couldn't yew find a place ter live near yer sister?"
Furrowing his brow, the fox replied sadly, "My sister is dead and the kits're left at an orphanage." At this, the rat winced, regretting he'd asked the question in the first place. Koert continued, "And you said 'were'. As in I'm not a corsair anymore. I wanna do somethin' new, y'know, pursue another job besides doin' tough things like yew say. Yer not a corsair anymore either."
Rolling his eyes, the rat finished the argument, "Fine, whatever. Jus' foller me; it's 'bout time for some lunch food now, fox." Koert hastily followed his old captain, ignoring the rude reference of species.
Once in the kitchen, Reim fished out some ingredients from a nearby cupboard. He called for Sergio, who took them in paw and began to cook a meal in the small stone oven placed in the corner.
While the meal was being cooked, Koert took the time to look closer at the large room of the kitchen. Metal pots and pans of all sorts littered the cabinets, and there were many wooden doors with knobs to hold various food and spices, and were labeled as such. How could Cap'n Reim afford all this?! thought the fox, and the idea soon slipped out of his mouth.
"Ah," smiled the rat, handing his servant a pan, "It all came with the house, an' I inherited it. Me ol' Auntie Girdtail had an... unfortunate accident involving a knife, an' I got this nice house and my silver-furred Sergio over 'ere."
"Unfortunate accident?" questioned the fox, "What 'appened?" He rubbed his headfur back with a paw.
"Ah, my good sir," interrupted Sergio, "that is where I come in." He looked at his master, who nodded, then continued, holding the sizzling pan in one paw, "I worked for Mistress Reine Girdtail back when she owned this house. My theory is that someone came in at night and killed the woman. She was found with a dagger lodged in her throat in the morning; alas, if only I hadn't been out buying food for her that evening. The poor lady was an invalid and couldn't do it herself."
Sergio flipped the food in the pan for a moment, then continued, "Investigators later found the will saying that Master Reimus got the house when she died, or in this case, was brutally murdered. Authority figures haven't spent more time on the case because there was no evidence of pawprints or almost anything significant about the killer left. Only one thing was left at the scene, and that was a red cravat believed to have been worn by the killer, which I was told the police confiscated. They interviewed everyone in town, and found no one who wore it. Then, the police just left the case open."
Koert's eyes widened. The reynard hadn't expected such a long story, only a short explanation. "Wow," he managed.
Reim shook his head too and said, "Even I wasn't told that much. I guess servants know 'lot 'bout their masters, eh?"
"I guess," answered the silver hob unhelpfully. Then, as if to avoid further conversation, the weasel ran to the stone oven and plucked the roast woodpigeon that had been cooking out onto two plates, shoving them in front of Koert and Reim, but not before sprinkling some kind of yellow spice on it. "Eat up," he ordered, moving the scrambled woodpigeon eggs off of the slightly sizzling pan, onto their plates, then bowing and shuffling away.
"Wonder what that kind of spice was?" asked Koert, a look of doubt spread on his face.
Reim shrugged, "Must be some kind of oregano or something." The rat sniffed his food, "Smells good though."
The fox shrugged also, then they both began to dig in enthusiastically, because although they both had different personalities and species, woodpigeon was too good a meal to waste.
Three whole dead birds later, Reim and Koert sat happily patting their stomachs.
"That was the best meal I've tasted in a long time, Reim," remarked the fox, smacking his lips and yawning widely.
The yawn spread to the ex-searat, who replied, "Roight. I feel kinda sleepy, though. Odd, eh Koert? ... 'Ey, fox. Koert?"
But the dog-fox was snoring lightly. That couldn't be right. But it was too late to do anything, as the rat began to slowly slip out of consciousness too. He felt his eyelids drooping, but couldn't stop them. What happened...? he thought drowsily, but drifted into the world of sleep before anything else could register in his mind.
So, how was it? Having mixed feelings about any of the characters? How did I do? I personally didn't like this chapter much, but tell me what you think in a review. Should I have done something different?
Thanks a bunch ^_^ Keep reading,
~Persarr~
