This is the transcription of posts from ten different contestants in an offsite forum. One by one, they'll be eliminated until only the winner remains. Your vote counts! Please join us by clicking "The Emperor's Decree II" from our user page.
Chapter 5. Old Lady Leary
by Gloria Ruston
The weak Primary sun could not even begin to penetrate the thick clouds massed over Bouillabaisse Harbour that spat ice, snow, and freezing rain at the natives below. Fog condensed over the murky waters and stretched out its octopus-like tendrils through the city – a frigid portent of the ships and enemies to come. A persistent wind stole the breath from a beast's throats with greater dexterity than a well-positioned knife and made hearing anything a practice in patience.
"Report!" Captain Gloria Ruston barked as a shadow detached itself from a nearby building, keeping its head low against the elements. It sidled up to her beneath the shelter of the Smelt's eaves and the stoat leaned down so that their muzzles almost touched. "Well?"
"Fogeys're set up down Zann's Alley, ma'am!" a seedy little ratmaid explained hurriedly, her eyes flashing fearfully from the depths of her hood. "An' the Wotfers are standin' at key barricades near the Banke an' Marketplace. The Guard have trebuchets aimed at the harbour awaitin' yer mark."
"MAUL?" Gloria's hackles rose on principle. Can't trust those back-stabbing low-lifes t'leave well 'nuff alone. Hmph!
"Smudgies're keepin' an eye on their reg'lar haunts 'long with the Op'ra House and Museum, ma'am."
Regi'll have that in paw, then. The captain nodded to herself.
Gerard Reginald Ruston and his Unsmudgables would fight tooth and claw to protect their precious artifacts. And talking of precious things...
Bother.
There were going to be Hellgates to pay when they had the time to actually discuss Pylaris' execution. Regi was becoming more and more prickly about such things as he got older. Going off on his favorite little serving wench probably hadn't helped the situation, either. Granted, without even a name to show for the death, Gloria was agitated herself. She'd deal with re-educating Markook about the proper techniques for extracting information later, though.
The stoat gave herself a mental shake and focused on the matter at paw, running through a mental checklist of preparations.
The Fogeys, the Wotfers, the Unsmudgables, the Guard, MAUL, and... Ah, yes. There's that. A smile curled the lady stoat's maw upward, and her eyes creased in delighted malice.
"What about the Sugar and Bilge?" she asked, licking her frozen lips. Ever since she'd deciphered the ploy from Whalebaker's unintelligible gibberish around the Herring, she'd wanted to try it out. It was amazing what those mad navy beasts picked up on occasion. Praise the Fates for such an opportune little invasion.
The rat giggled in a high-pitched, anxious way. "If they ever get t'shore, I don't envy 'em the spirits they'll find round these parts. We sent the 'pothecaries t'the warehouses 'long the district. Finished getting the stocks ready fer any unfriendly sorts quarter hour ago. Er..." She paused, wringing her grubby paws together for warmth or worry. "Some o' the beasties outta the Slups're gettin' a bit stir-crazy. You reckon they'll join up with those Southerners if'n they get past our defenses?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about the Slurpees, Fermia, dear," Gloria remarked with a dismissive wave of her paw. "And in any case, I doubt those foreign frockheads'll get too far. They surprised the fleet at Magh, but this is my harbour and they'll not be having my guard down s' easily with their little tricks."
"Aye."
"And the last matter...?"
"In place, Cap'n," the ratmaid affirmed. "Want I should tell the archers t'start the fire?"
"Ye haven't yet?" Gloria let the tiniest hint of disapproval taint her voice, then chuckled when the lass gulped and skittered away to make herself useful. A gust of ice wiped the grin from her face a moment later, though. Her teeth clattered together and her whole body shuddered.
That wretched gull had better've gotten the timing right for those ships, the stoat grumbled inwardly as she hugged her coat closer and made a feeble attempt at molding herself into the Smelt's woodwork for protection. Why hadn't the MinoInn bothered to implement those giant fans to keep the weather at bay? Something about there not being enough hamster-power in the Imperium to run them? Or was that the reason for not putting up the elle-ick-trick flames in the street lamps?
Bother.
If anything, the wind had only intensified in the last hour and a half as the military and loyal-or-be-arrested citizenry waited for an enemy that was taking its keelhauling time in actually mounting its promised assault. Gloria crouched low behind a neatly stacked row of crates, runners on either side prepared to deliver her orders come high waters or Hellgates... or present inclement conditions, as those were more pressing.
"Er... wot's takin' s'long d'ye think, Cap'n?" one of the runners asked, probably more to keep his jaw from freezing in place than out of any real curiosity.
Gloria considered snapping something rude at him about hunks of wood being impractical, insidious, and all together unreliable means of transport, but decided conversation was preferable to silence.
"Weather like this?" she said instead, forcing a dry chuckle. "Maybe the sea froze, and they got stuck."
His eyes widened and he gaped, minuscule cracks forming in the icy sheen across his feline face. "D'ye think the Navy'll be a'right, then? An' wot about the fish! C'n they breathe in ice? Should we be puttin' blankets o'er the harbour?"
The stoat stared at him, incredulous, for several seconds. Perhaps silence was preferable.
Before she could give him a solid tongue lashing for being a gullible idiot, another wildcat, this one dressed like Gloria, but with orange cuffs and epaulets, skittered up the row of crates and saluted.
"What's the news, Sil?" The stoat didn't bother to return the gesture – decorum be hanged when it was below freezing.
"'Tross Gulls have spotted the enemy ships, ma'am," the wildcat relayed. "There... there might be a few more than we were expecting."
"What's a few more foreign fops?" Gloria sneered. "Just some extra driftwood for Slurpees t'sort through."
"But," Sil fretted, "I'm not sure if... I mean – I mean we do have the Wotfers, and the Kreehold haven't been sighted in an age, but... You see, ma'am, it's really all quite complicated and-"
"How many more?" Gloria cut her off, narrowing her eyes at the Mistress of the Keys.
"About a... a score, ma'am."
"How many beasts t'a standard warship?" Gloria asked, carving a slice of rosemary-seasoned thigh from the roasted plover on her plate as she and the heads of the Bully Harbour factions faced each other over the rustic dining room table. "Two hunnerd?" She lifted the tender white meat to her mouth and smiled before tearing it from her fork and chewing loudly. "Maybe a few more? Mmf... And how many ships will be coming? We've had spies in the – Be a darling and pass the gravy, will ye, Regi? – in the South for years
. They won't be able t'muster more'n thirty rickety old trawlers!
"Ye take sea monsters and weather into account," she continued, dousing her dinner in rich amber liquid, "and yer only looking at a score of ships and four thousand beasties. We've that number in trained fighters 'mongst all the factions on top of a good two thousand maniacs out of the Slups!"
"Yer takin' an awful rosy view o' the matters at paw, Ruston," Fredrick Wright, leader of the Wotfers, growled, poking at his apparently-less-appetizing plover. "I wager those southern slimebacks are comin' in full style if they're sendin' a beast like General Lock t'spearhead the attack."
"Now where
did you hear that, Mr. Wright?" Regi interjected before Gloria could.
"Oh, I got ears 'round town," the pine marten replied evasively. "Any case, don't switch the subject, tetchy-tail. I don't trust that it'll be so easy as yer makin' it out, Ruston. What sort o' guarantees have ye got fer me an' mine that this isn't a battle lost 'fore it begins?"
The lady stoat glared at him and he glared right back. She was tempted to cut off his eyelids so he'd never lose a staring contest again, but refrained. Regi would disapprove of staining the white table cloth.
After the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length, the Captain of the Guard said, "Ye'll be minding the Banke, Wright. That satisfy ye 'nuff that ye'll be paid?"
He blinked.
Weakling.
"Aye," the pine marten agreed. "That'll about do it. Still think yer underestimatin' the Southies, an' we all know what's happened before when certain
beasts have underestimated others..." He left the sentence dangling for the captain to hang herself on.
"Yes." Gloria stabbed her plover in what some might call a 'meaningful' way and replied in a voice coated with sugar, "But certain beasts have also dealt with the problem. Nothing for a dear like yerself t'worry his fluffy little tail over."
Wright shrugged. "Jist don't say I didn't tell ye so, Cap'n Rusty."
It was a very lucky thing that the pine marten had the good sense to duck.
Fifteen minutes crept by before the cloud-like sails of the Southern armada could be seen, and ten more followed before the first of the jolly-boats docked. Gloria, Sil, and the runners watched as dark shapes tossed ropes up onto the Imperial Docks.
"Go!" the lady stoat hissed and the runners shot off like bolts from a crossbow in opposite directions. "Get back t' Zann's Alley and mind the Fogeys don't hit any on our side if it comes t'that," she instructed Sil. The wildcat nodded and was gone. Gloria followed suit, boots skidding over patches of ice and snow as she made her way to the archers.
Situated atop the Bates Casino that sported "a perfect view of a perfect harbour" – really this meant that the building was always in danger of crumbling into the ocean or having a particularly vengeful wave flood its lower floors – the Unsmudgable rangeblades waited.
Gloria climbed up through the trap door to the roof and tromped straight for the small huddle of creatures at the far end of the building. They all looked miserably cold with icicles hanging from their noses and snow turning even the darkest-furred beasts white. Still, they were alert and several had turned to face a tiny fire to warm their paws in preparation for the next order.
"Well, lads, lasses," the lady stoat said, grinning at them, "time t'burn the cockles of those Southies' hearts. Ready?"
"H'yup!"
"Light up, take aim, and fire at will."
"Oi!" a weasel protested. "That ain't kind, missus! How'd ye like me t'point my bow at you, eh?"
"Oh, just shoot!" Gloria snarled, knocking Will upside the head with her hook.
Ten elongated fireflies fought through the storm on a collision course with the docks. Two fell short, and one overshot, but the others hit their marks. For a moment, nothing happened save catcalls from the disembarking Southerners that implied the Emperor engaged in extra-marital affairs with base-born guttersnipes.
Then, there was a screech, followed by another, and another.
The Captain of the Stoatorian Guard cackled. As she watched, fire whirled along the docks and into the surrounding waters. Some creatures, scrambling to avoid the sudden blaze, pushed their fellows into the frigid seas, leaving them to drown, freeze, or generally kick the bucket.
"Oh, I do like lantern oil," Gloria remarked as burning splinters of blown timber inflamed the chaos below. The Guard had started firing the trebuchets. "And I love my country!"
"Ma'am!" one of the Unsmudgables shouted, catching her attention. He jabbed a claw past the smoldering carnage that had become the docks. "Ma'am, they're attackin' the Barracks and Trenches!"
Ten ships had broken from what Gloria could see of the main body of the Southern Fleet. And as the Smudgie had said, they were launching ballistae at the southern tip of Bully Harbour.
"Hmph!" The lady stoat snorted. "Think they'll be landing there, do they? You!" she caught the Unsmudgable's vest with her hook and drew him close. "Run and tell Blademaster Ruston t'send some of his creatures t'stamp out those malingering morons!" She pushed him away and he hastened to comply.
"Now, then, General Lock," Gloria muttered to herself as she glared across the harbour, "what're ye up to?"