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Chapter 36. Non Lorem Ipsum
by Wazzock
Captain Wazzock chewed on the memories of the recent past, checking the flavor, and found the aftertaste bland in his mouth. The entire Lock conversation became hazier the longer he looked back on it. It lacked sense and reason. Not that he felt those two items usually had much weight in normal teeth-to-the-bone conflicts, but still, something felt off.
Perhaps because he was carrying out the orders of General Lock of the Southern Army, who, by most accounts, wanted to devour the inhabitants of the Vulpine Imperium and pick out the remains from his teeth. Wazzock clomped down the street, glad he had not given his boots to Soriss in the first act of the war, mostly because of the charming sound that accompanied him on Bully Harbour streets. He knew some beasts could do without footpaw-wear, and more than once heard drunken rants of the freedom it gave (but then, these creatures usually lacked pants and were singing the Imperial Anthem into an empty mug).
He tugged at his whiskers, hoping Miss Sal was all right, going to that building to catch some needed sleep. He had his worries, but she said she was fine… He looked back down the street, buildings looming on either side, sunlight nibbling along the edges of the horizon, leaving colored bitemarks, from lavender to cherry, mingling with a winter haze. The void of creatures weighed on his heart. The coat still itched his shoulders. He would need to find a tailor at some point, to get the right sense of movement when he flailed his arms. If a creature couldn't flail properly, it limited them greatly in all manner of tactics.
He suddenly knew what it was he lacked: the Stormchaser crew. The rat removed the feather from his cap (amazingly still intact after the events of the past two days) and nibbled on it. Words emerged as he chewed and walked.
"You'll make a horrible captain, Mr. Pike," the MinoWar Baltsar said, not looking up from some documents that even sounded important when the weasel shuffled them. "That is a fantastic point, sir. I've not a dash of captain blood in my veins. If anything, I might have a dash of mouse on my mum's side…never quiet understood what imparted there. I'm told it involved pickles, though. Never met a mouse…" "That is why I am making you captain of the Wazzock frowned. "Mr. MinoWar. That's the fastest boat in the harbor and a dear friend, as I've learned cleaning her decks. Getting bloodstains off the wood is…however, I guess that's not the point. You see, I'm not a captain." "Fantastic. You amuse me, Mr. Pike, and in any other situation, I would have you executed for mere idiocy. But, from the reports, you have a certain flair for… instinctual leadership." "Isn't that what happened when I was young and I got scared and I piddled myself?" Wazzock said, with complete seriousness. "And you amuse me again. Certainly, this may bite me in the tail, and even if you fail and are executed later, I believe I shall remain amused. You are dismissed, Captain Pike.
Wazzock stood at the threshold of the Ministry or Innovation. Not as pointy as the Ministry of War, he thought. He took a final look down the street, feeling a pang of guilt at leaving Miss Sal behind. Such a fine rat lass. It was for the best she was taking a nap, really. She had been enough danger the last few days as it was. He began to have doubts about her as he thought back, but nothing that wouldn't be cleared up by tea later. She appeared the material for a friend, separate from the crew, someone not phased by the hierarchy of ship leadership. He didn't have many friends. Well, besides Miss Gloria. He really needed to find them soon. But first, to take care of this order for the good of the Imperium. Supposedly, the MinoInn would be in this building, though by all accounts, he should be away from the city. He was told there was a weapon involved.
There also might be dancing.
Wazzock didn't understand what that part had to do with the war. He just knew he was forbidden to dance within Harbour jurisdiction, except for special holidays, and even then he needed to have a permit from the Fogeys.
He opened the door. Nothing happened, except for a bell above the door. Wazzock stepped out, looked up and down the building to see if this caused any notable stir. When he returned, a series of knives had stuck up from the bottom of the door-frame. He removed his hat and carefully stepped over the knives. He noted a sign on the door that said "NO SOLICITORS".
The rat captain now remembered the odd stories about this place, and of the ever-interesting list of creatures killed around the building posted at the Bilge (next to the slightly more interesting death notice list about the MinoWar building).
What was he looking for exactly? A ballroom, perhaps? The building was obviously abandoned, all semblance of order lost with ripped papers and unrolled scrolls thrown across the floor as if something had exploded. As he passed the kitchen -- cooked to well done – he noted that explosions may well have been the normal state of affairs in the Ministry of Innovations. He sniffed the air, only to have it scrape across his nostrils and carry on down his throat, causing him to clutch his snout with both paws.
He noted movement down the hall, a tapestry swaying. Wazzock removed his sword (another item he was glad he retained). He rarely took the thing out from its sheath, actually. He mostly had it so he could tap on the helm when in thought or rub at the shiny pommel stone for luck. Also beasts waving around sharp things, including himself, caused instinctual clutching of his tail. (When he heard creatures speak of his "lack of sharpness" he considered it a compliment.)
He cleared his throat. "I know where you are. Come forth, unless you wish me to become unsatisfactory to you." He would have said "violent" but he couldn't rightly imagine stabbing the unknown creature, so he figured a specific promise of violence wouldn't work well.
"Oh. I wouldn't want that," said a voice, notably in the direction behind Wazzock.
Wazzock spun around, sword still outstretched, so it caught a somewhat weaselish shaped set of armor with its blade, knocking it to the ground before the feet of a gray rat nibbling on a scone. The poleaxe the armor had held up also fell, which the unknown rat side-stepped, the blade sinking into the plush carpet. The rat looked Wazzock up and down, taking another bite of his snack. Crumbs projecting, he said, "Greetings there, who may you be?"
Wazzock got the distinct feeling of disinterest from the rat, or perhaps just a level of cool which no amount of action would ever phase. Still, he sounded as if he were genuinely trying to be friendly –- and genuinely failing at catching the right tone. Wazzock put his hat on his head, and then removed it with flourish. "I am Captain Wazzock J. Pike of the famous Stormchaser. And you are…"
The gray rat raised a brow, put the rest of the scone in his cheek, clicked each of his ten claws, and then spoke. "Commander Bait N. Switch V, official assistant of the Minister of Innovation, Colonel Iskarot Arbach." He stared at Wazzock's offered paw. "Do you know anything about wiring?"
"Not that I know of."
"Sorry, old family question. Traditionally we ask every creature we meet about it. Nice uniform."
"Oh, don't be tricked by my appearance. I am not a Southern Officer. I…"
"I know. Still, nice uniform." Bait N. Switch V kept chewing on the scone, though Wazzock suspected that there wasn't any scone left -- confirmed when the rat spit out some brownish stuff into a strategically placed pot. Wazzock remembered his pa chewing such stuff, though he never ate scones and chewed the stuff at the same time. Wazzock, for one of the few times of his life, decided this was not a topic he should pursue.
"So, is there a ballroom in this building?"
"Not that I know of. And I most definitely would know."
"Oh. Is the Minister of Innovation in?"
"The official answer is that all the staff was sent home and the MinoInn is in an undisclosed location. The unofficial answer is he should be back any time now to personally check on the situation, as a Missertoss Gull just revealed with a note."
"Missertross Gull?" Wazzock said, then his eyes widened, "Ah, now I can inform Miss Gloria and my crew of my current status. Is the gull still here?"
"Indeed. Upstairs in the MinoInn's office. Would you like me to show you there?"
"Yes, please."
Switch blinked, slowly. "I do not believe I've heard the word 'please' uttered from vermin maw since…a long while. Oberlameramina."
"Say again."
"Old family saying," Switch said, "Too long to explain. Still, it certainly proves you're the mad captain of the Stormchaser."
"Are you sure that's not Captain Whalebaker? He always seems angrier than I."
Switch briefly let a grin flash through his neutral aura. "Come upstairs, though watch where you step. The main traps have been activated due to the war."
"What kind of traps?"
"Don't worry. If you run into one, it won't matter. Usually."
"Oh, so they are like some of those 'live-bird' traps I hear advertised about?"
"Besides the 'live' part: exactly. And the noun is rarely 'bird.'"
Wazzock felt an odd chill run down his tail as they climbed a spiral staircase, down a hall lined with shelves of scrolls and books, and finally past a burned-out door into the MinoInn's office
Inside, set off by the early morning glow filtering through the windows, was a world of shiny items, knickknacks, powders and oddly colored liquids. Arrows and swords stuck out of one of the walls and a life-size representative of a weasel sat on a ratty chair, the straw stuffing spilling out of its stomach and a gash in its neck. A gull pecked at the dummy. Wazzock almost felt himself lured to take a closer look at the shiny items, but shook himself.
"Yes, I must reform and lay to rest any questions of my loyalty to the Imperium. I must wash my paws of any question of my following orders of General Lock of the Southern Army. I only am happening to follow his orders in order to then bring the answers to Captain Rusty of the Imperium. I must write a message immediately."
"Do you often speak to yourself?" Switch asked.
"Oh," Wazzock said, suddenly aware again of the rat next to him, "I usually have a Captain's Log where I write those sorts of notes. Makes everything make sense if I get them out of myself."
"Sounds downright sane compared to most vermin." Switch shrugged. "Another family legacy: do not scoff at crazy beasts. Comes in use working for the MinoInn."
"I'm not guilty."
"Never said you were. You said something about a letter."
Wazzock again found himself unhooked by this rat's weird calm. He couldn't think of how to respond, so he proceeded to find paper and something like a quill pen that actually wrote (the other quill-like things set themselves on fire while Switch calmly sprayed a white dust to extinguish the flames). Eventually, Wazzock managed to jot down a quick Missertross:
Dear Miss Gloria, It shall please you to hear that I am fine, not a whisker out of place though my tail is a little kinked. How are you doing this charming morning? I am just messaging you to say that I am currently at the Ministry of Innovation. I met a nice rat named Switch who has shown me around. I am currently on a mission for General Lock about a ballroom, but no worries, I am doing this for the Imperium. He said something about a weapon here. Anyway, just thought you should know. Hope to see you soon, Sincerely, Wazzy P.S. Send my best wishes to the crew. Mention grog. They'll like that. What do you think of Mister Soriss? Smashing fellow, isn't he. Did he make some roasted grasshoppers yet?
He tied the message to the gull's leg and set the bird out and sighed. He turned back to Switch. He looked at the office again, the piles of papers, much like the downstairs, though slightly more organized. He thought back to Lock's odd orders.
He suddenly asked, "Do you know what Operation Ballroom is?"
"Yes. Brilliant weapon. Of which is not allowed to be seen by the eyes of vermin."
Wazzock's mind spun back to Lock's words. "Weapon. Are there plans?"
"Of course."
"On a scroll?"
"I just said they are not allowed to be seen by the eyes of vermin."
"Does a squirrel have to read them?"
"Good guess, but no. I am the plan. The MinoInn gave me the plan and all the details and I remember every one. It's a curse really. The MinoInn is rather a uptight bu-"
They suddenly heard shouts from below, and then the stomping of paws on the lower floor.
"I best check out what's going on. I'll be right back, Switch."
"Of course," Switch said, studying a stain on his coat.
Wazzock had only gotten halfway down the hall when a weasel figure rose from the spiral stairwell.
"Hello and welcome to the Ministry of Innovation, I…"
The weasel blinked. "Who are... You! Ruston's gardener! What in sodding blazes..."
"Oh. Fine memory you have and charming use of words. You see…"
The weasel was squinting now, and then another flash of recognition passed over her face as she saw the uniform. "The Bilge…"
Wazzock stopped. He saw the risk now of putting up aliases. Giving his own name to General Lock had not been fantastic either, but giving multiple aliases, and then managing to run into the same beast multiple times in such a short period was not lucky. Then again, rats didn't usually have that distinguishing of features unless half their snout was gone. Wazzock noted he ought to hide the hat for future disguises.
He tipped said hat. "Hello. Captain Wazzock at your service. And you're Captain Steep, correct? Both captains, now isn't that a coincidence. Do you have a boat?"
"No, but I've got boots, you disrespectful, bucket-wielding, lunatic rodent."
"Ah, language, miss. Must be careful just in case ratlings be about."
A long pause. Then Steep unsheathed her sword. Wazzock carefully removed his. He breathed deeply, trying to remember all he had been taught about sword fighting. "I don't want to hurt you, miss. If we can calm down, I believe that just turning yourself in and…" The weasel lunged forward.
The swords clashed.
Wazzock felt Steep's hot breath on his face, blade on his neck.
He remembered that no beast had actually bothered to give him lessons on how to use his blade.
"It's okay, Captain!" a voice called from the floor below, catching the weasel's attention. "Private Devonshire has gotten the hooks out of my trousers and I'm fine, thank you for your concern..."
Wazzock, thanking the fact he wore heavy boots, kicked Steep in the right shin. In the ensuing reaction, he ran back to the office and slammed the door, placing the large latch in front of it.
"Well, that didn't go well." Swears and paws started pounding at the door.
"Is there another way out?" Wazzock said, re-sheathing his sword.
"There is, but without the proper method, they give passage to the Dark Forest."
"The windows?"
"You don't want to know."
"How can we get out then?"
"Only the MinoInn knows. He never told me. As I said, he's an uptight bug-"
"Wait, this is the MinoInn, a creature whose mind scampers upon the upper echelons of imagination. There must be something in here that can help us."
"Nothing that wouldn't remove a limb in the process."
"Are you certain there is no secret passage way?" Wazzock yanked some books from a shelf, then frowned at them, then brightened. "Ooo, I love this story. It has a whale that chomps on fish n' ships. My mum used to…" He paused to listen to Steep's threats. "You must admit that the weasel lass has ingenuity when it comes to threats." He noted something in the corner: a hat. He took it, briefly considered putting it on, and then noticed the odd stick thing it had been hanging on.
"What is this, Switch?"
"Oh, that lever…"
Wazzock pulled the lever with a reverberating clank.
"Why did you pull that?" Switch said, with slightly more enthusiasm.
"You said it was a lever," Wazzock countered.
"Yes, a lever. That's barely a statement and not even close to being a suggestion."
"I'm a master of pulling levers, or so my pa said. There aren't many around Bully."
Switch sighed. "To be candid, I don't believe MinoInn Arbach would do much different in this situation. That lever is to be used in extreme circumstances when he is surrounded and has no means of escape, and wants to take all of his idea with him."
"So what does it do exactly?"
"It releases previously hidden trips wires around the manor. And considering there is a fair amount of beasts tromping around the house, it will one be a matter of time until eragalaga."
"Come again?"
"Hard to explain outside of the family dialect. Let's just say it causes the building to become slightly unstable."
A rumble ran through the equipment, the floor, the walls.
"Ah, someone tripped a wire," Switch stated.
"Oh, that's not good," Wazzock stated back, as the nice lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling crashed to the ground. "So you're saying, the building is collapsing."
"You state the obvious often, don't you?"
Wazzock shrugged and then scarpered to the door, lifting the latch and opening the door. Steep was yelling at a marten now, who was sprawled across the floor, near a suspect-looking piece of rope taunt across the hallway.
Wazzock cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Miss Steep, but I believe we must delay our current conflict until we find a more suitable environment in which to settle our differences."
The wall directly across from the office door crackled, and then disappeared in a shower of debris, the floor now leaning towards the dropoff at a disconcerting angle. Steep looked at the absent wall, Wazzock, and then the cracking ceiling. "Tactical pull back, everybeast!"
Wazzock now noticed the gang of woodland creatures frozen further down the hall. Cute, Wazzock let himself think, before pulling Switch along after the retreating Steep, wondering how long the building would remain standing.
The answer: just about when they all made it onto the spiral staircase.
Then all went dark.