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 49. Caught Red-Handed Showing Feelings
by Gloria
"Will, give it a little more," Sil growled. "You're going all weak."
"Like this, Miss Sil?" the Unsmudgable weasel asked, repositioning himself.
"Watch it now! Not like that!"
"M-Miss Sil, this ain't gonna work fer me."
"That's not true! You can do it, Will! You just have to push harder."
"If ye say so... A'right!" He grunted, shoving upward.
"Ack! No, not there!" Sil cried.
"But I gotta do it there or it's gonna overflow!"
"Oi! Ye two!" Gloria hissed, rounding the corner and coming on the weasel and cat frozen on stepladders just below the tunnel ceiling. Their paws were above their heads and they were trying to force a tarp covered in dirt up to repair the hole Lady Akilina's aggravating arrival had caused. "Quit yer chin-wagging and get that fixed already. Should have been done hours ago, ye ken?"
"Ma'am," the Mistress of the Keys whined, "it's hard with just two, can't you help us? Everybeast else ran off."
The lady stoat raised an incredulous eyebrow, turned on her heel and stalked away.
"Shame the missus don't wanna be a part o'it," Will lamented. "I reckon that hook mighta been handy."
--- --- ---
Leaving Will and Sil to their own devices, Gloria proceeded to search the endless corridors of Unsmudgable rooms for Lord Kriley Clover. She wanted to make sure the rat was safely under claw after his surprising display of backbone earlier in the evening. The lady stoat had never pegged the young duke for a sneaky sort, but then, most rats were... strike that, most vermin were sneaky. He just came off as so meek, what with the glasses and scarf.
Gloria eventually found him in a lounge along with the rest of the Stormchaser crew. And Wazzock.
Bother.
Before she could about face, the rat captain hailed her, raising a mug. "Oh, Ms. Gloria! Won't you come sit with us? We're toasting Mr. Soriss. I'm afraid he's gone to the Great Kitchen in Dark Forest."
"He's dead?" She blinked. Well, that was one play-thing here and gone before she could snap her claws.
"Aye. Have a drink." He stood and offered her the mug in his paws. The lady stoat sniffed it, suspicious.
"Yer waking a beastie with... tea?"
"We couldn't find the grog," a ferret grumbled. Then he said to the empty space beside him, "Well, of course, yew would've found some, Fall."
"It's the best we can do for our dearly departed Mr. Soriss at the moment," Wazzock intoned.
"We've an early march in the morning, anyway," Kriley put in, then adjusted his spectacles and frowned. "What would we do with a lot of drunken sailors?"
Suggestions flew out fast and thick.
"Throw 'em in lock-up 'til they sober!"
"Shave their bellies wid a rusty razor!"
"Put 'em in the bilge and make 'em drink it!"
"H'yup! Early in the mornin'."
Gloria cast a wary glance at a beaming Wazzock. Must be catching in the fleas. She edged away from him none-too-subtly and toward Kriley as the rat captain began his toast.
"To Mr. Soriss, our dear friend, cook, co-first mate..."
"A fine move ye made earlier, Lord Clover," the lady stoat murmured, sitting down on the chair Wazzock had recently vacated. "Certainly proves yer taking this matter of ranking below beasties who've never set footpaw at one of Lady Plushpaw's balls seriously."
"It has nothing to do with that," the rat snapped. "I've merited that promotion for a good while now. I apparently only made the mistake of looking like a good bosun to Captain Wazzock. I needed to do something to show him I wasn't going to remain so forever."
Gloria raised her paw and hook, and smiled in what she considered a disarming manner. "No need t'explain t'me, Lord Clover. I'm terrible proud of a beastie who takes the reins in a situation. But, there is one thing..."
Her hook shot out and caught in the green fabric of Kriley's scarf. She used it to drag him closer, delighting in his saucer-like eyes, squirming, and muffled squeaks of dismay.
"Something wrong, Ms. Gloria?" Wazzock had taken notice of the transpiring events and turned to look back at them.
"Not a'tal, Wazzy. Just admiring Lord Clover's scarf."
"Oh. It is rather nice, but I do believe you're worrying the chap."
"Ye were giving such a lovely speech, Wazzy," the stoat redirected. "Ye shouldn't leave yer audience waiting or their tea'll go cold."
"Quite right! Where was I? Ah, yes! I recall when I first met Mr. Soriss there was a cloud shaped like a..."
"Listen t'me, Lord Clover. I respect yer brains and yer spirit, but don't be thinking ye can speak yer mind when ye will about whatever ye will, aye? What happened outside Regi's office stays with ye t'the grave, or ye'll find that yer in one sooner than ye might've expected." She released him and he took a moment to collect himself before replying.
"Are you threatening a Duke of the Royal Court and an Officer of the Imperial Navy, Milady?"
Gloria's ear twitched at the title and rank. "No, Lord Clover," she whispered, "I'm threatening a little rat whose secret I ken." She reached out for the scarf again, slowly, and smirked when the first mate jerked back.
"I don't have any secrets."
Gloria's smirk widened to a toothy grin as her eyes traced the small bit of scar she could see on his neck. "Of course not, m'Lord. Just as I've no secrets either."
"...And that, my good chaps and chappesses is why we drink to Mr. Soriss!" Wazzock concluded. "Huzzah!"
"Huzzah!" Gloria joined in the toast out of habit, raising her mug, but keeping her gaze and smile only for Kriley Clover.
--- --- ---
"And so, Lady Akilina's returned to Amarone," Regi concluded as he and Gloria sat in a plush, purple room adjoined to the Smudgie library.* Most beasts had bedded down in preparation for the march to the capitol, but the stoats had opted to discuss a few of the logistics before turning in. "She wasn't terribly pleased to be going, but it seems only logical now that we know that's where we should be heading."
"Aye. Logical," the captain grumbled. "Wrinkly, ole hag."
"Gloria, you really shouldn't talk about a minister that way." The Blademaster rubbed at the wrinkles on his brow. He would wear the fur away soon if he kept up. A portrait of Regi with a smattering of bald spots on his forehead flitted through Gloria's mind and she began sniggering before she could contain herself.
"It's not a laughing matter, Gloria!" The Blademaster snarled, the edges of his lips rising to reveal tobacco-stained teeth. "I'm serious. You're far too flippant with her. She's above our political station as a minister, and our noble station as a duchess. I would have thought you of all beasts would be more conscientious."
The lady stoat's features narrowed. "What's that s'posed t'mean?"
"Dear one**," her husband began, "you mind lineage more than most nannies mind their charges. I would call you a 'fanatic', but that would be insulting to any creature mildly obsessed with lineage."
"I am not obsessed!" The captain glared, her ears going down and her hackles rising.
"Gloria, you were arranging marriages for our kits before they were a year old!" He shot up and Gloria matched him, placing her paw on the hilt of her sword.
"Well, excuse me for caring s'much, Regi!"
"Cared enough to send them all to the grave."
The thread of decorum holding her back snapped, and Gloria grasped her sword, sweeping it from the sheath in a low arc. Regi narrowly avoided losing the contents of his gut by jumping back and drawing his rapier. Silence set up a pleasant shop in the room as each stoat took in the opponent. Then, the Blademaster thrust forward. Gloria swatted the thin blade away and returned with a diagonal cut that Regi danced away from.
Bother. She'd forgotten how limber he was.
The pair exchanged blows for a solid three minutes with only the snicker-snack of metal to mark the passing moments. Finally, their blades clashed and Gloria had to use her hook to support her sword as Regi locked their hilts and began shoving her back. She grunted, baring her teeth at him, hating him a little more because he reminded her too much of Pylaris, too much of Deephart, too much of IceRain.
Why did the good kits look like him? she seethed, halting his push. They strained against one another, but neither budged.
"What happened to us?" Regi wondered, gritting his teeth, but beginning to relax as the fight left him like a flighty sparrow. "When did you become such an insufferable wench?"
"When ye started getting old," Gloria growled, easing off, though she kept her sword raised.
"Says the stoat who plucks the gray hairs out of her fur every morning."
The captain's mouth twitched into a wry smile, then smoothed as she rejoined, "It's Mum's fault. She started going t'gray 'round about now." With a sigh that could fill the sails of the Stormchaser, Gloria broke away and sheathed her weapon. The Blademaster mirrored the movement. "I'm tired of all this, too, Regi. But ye have t'understand that Pylaris isn't my-"
He held up a paw to stop her. "Let's not start this again, Gloria. I understand your position. You understand my position. We disagree, and that's enough for now. We'll deal with this more thoroughly when we don't have the Southern Army and MinoMis agents breathing down our necks."
"Aye." She nodded, glad to table the argument until the next time Regi decided to shove a stick up his own rear. Strategizing was easier when they weren't cross with each other, anyway. "So, the Wotfers and Stormchaser's will be joining my guard in the march for Amarone, and ye'll be staying here in charge of the harbour, then."
"That seems the most sensible thing to do," Regi affirmed. "I wouldn't trust MAUL agents with watching over a sack of flour, let alone the whole city... And with Kips acting the moron, he can't be trusted to make proper judgments, either."
"Ye... thought he was being an idiot, too?" The lady stoat asked, blinking. The Blademaster hadn't exactly thrown in his support on the matter at the crucial moment.
"Of course!" Regi harrumphed, crossing his arms and turning up his mustachioed snout. "Told Kips as much after you ran off to collect Wazzock. Like you said, Lady Akilina has to have an angle. I've yet to determine what it is, but I-"
She interrupted by tackling him. The stoat flailed for a moment, his arms pin-wheeling and his eyes wide, before he tipped over and assumed a horizontal position on the slated floor. He scrambled for the rapier at his belt, crying, "What in Voss' name, Gloria? I thought you'd be happy!"
Gloria lay on her husband's chest for a moment, head down, trying to get the manic grin on her face under control. It wouldn't do to scare Regi any more with the way his guard had risen. She was liable to lose her other paw for that.
"I am happy," the lady stoat said after a silent, ten second scuffle to keep Regi down and prevent him from gutting her. She kissed him before he could respond. "Thank ye." Another peck and a wink. "Now, then, darling, let me show ye just how happy I am..."
Sometime later, Gloria and Regi stepped apart, each buttoning and straightening his and her respective garments.
"That would have been a lot easier if you'd have just taken your hook off," the Blademaster groused, pulling a comb from his pocket and brushing out his mustache.
"Ye know I don't like t'," the lady countered. Removing the hook gave the sensation that her paw was back again... and in the process of getting hacked off. "B'sides, it makes ye have t'work for it. More fun that way, aye?"
He snorted.
"Well, then." She nodded to herself. "I'm off t'bed down with the Guard. Get the slackers up bright and early. Any last bits of advice for me, darling?"
"Don't get killed," her husband advised. "You might be pregnant."
Gloria let a half-smile tug her whiskers up – for all his faults, Regi Ruston knew her. "I love ye, too."
--- --- ---
04:00 – Sil had the decency to wake me with a cup of coffee. 04:15 – I had the decency to wake the lazy bums nearby without kicking them. 04:35 – Toiletries conducted. Mr. Jericho... or Mr. Quinn (some confusion over this Navybeast's name) reprimanded forcefully for spying on Ms. Chicory Sleet during toiletries. [Note to Self: Commend Ms. Sleet for her novel use of peppermint chews and claw-clippers. Reprimand Ms. Sleet, as well, for undue bad temper over the death of her fiancé, Mr. Buttertongue Hinkly. He really wasn't 04:45 – Breakfast eaten. Thankfully, Mr. Soriss had leftovers from the night before. I can't say much for his character, but he was a decent cook. I might have employed him once the war was over – if not for the food, then for the hours of entertainment a gormless scaly could provide. Shame he had to go and die. 05:30 – Supplies enough to cover a full two day's march collected. Captain Pike held up the company by insisting everybeast pack a teacup and saucer. I told him we would be taking tea in a rustic setting. This appeased him. Heading for the tunnels. [Note to Self: Ask the MinoInn about inventing a collapsible tea set.]
--- --- ---
It was past 08:00 by the time the Guard, Wotfers, and Stormchaser crew saw the cheery splashes of light ahead that signaled the exit from the Unsmudgable tunnels. Pushing past a concealment screen, Gloria squinted out, sniffing and twitching her whiskers. Snowy fields greeted her eyes and a whiff of fresh Primary air froze the hairs in her nostrils.
From the distinct lack of uniformed Southerners tromping about, and the relatively undisturbed slurry by the bricked Road to Amarone, they had beat Lock's army out of Bully Harbour.
Forming marching units of five by five beasts for the road took a surprisingly short amount of time. The crew of the Stormchaser lagged a bit, but between Wazzock's mathematically-inclined pep talk – "I know I can count on your chaps and chappesses to square up in prime order!" – and Kriley's prodding, they arranged themselves well enough.
Gloria directed Sil to remain by the wayside while the rest of the Vulpinsulan forces marched ahead. The Mistress of the Keys would act as a lookout for the inevitable wall of Southern green to come. The wildcat could rival a hare in running speed and endurance, so when she spotted them, she would make for Amarone. Double the amount of time it took for Sil to reach them, and that was how far behind Lock's army would be.
That was the plan, anyway, but not ten minutes from the city, they had to stop. Where the salt-laced fields bordering the road transitioned into forests dominated by old oaks, beech, and clumps of spruce and fir trees, the leading regiment froze and set up a racket about a pit of some sort dug off to the left.
"What now?" Gloria growled, shoving her way forward from the back of the lines. She'd been nipping at straggler's footpaws to ensure the most efficient use of energy in the morning.
"It's m'mate, Sarven!" a weasel Guardsbeast sobbed as she ran to the right side of the road and hid her face in her paws. "He got h-hisself runned through at the s-start of the fightin' an' – an' now!" She hiccupped, then turned and buried her runny snout in the uniform of the nearest beast. If they weren't in such a hurry to be off, Gloria might have derived some amusement from the fact that this happened to be a very nosy Fredrick Wright. As it was, the stoat directed her attention to the pit. Further exclamations sounded from the beasts nearest to the edge of the thing.
"Step aside and get back on the road, or ye'll be joining the beasties down there!" she warned. It was amazing what a few well-chosen words could do when supported by a mass grave. The Guardsbeasts scrambled to assemble themselves in their proper ranks in under three seconds. She started back toward the road herself. "Now, can we-"
"Oh, poor chaps."
Wazzock.
Of course he would ignore her orders. Gloria's ear twitched as she stopped and spun slowly on her heel to scowl at the rat. He was crouched above the lip of the pit. One good kick would send him tumbling to an almost certainly unpleasant fate. Then again, Wazzock's definition of 'unpleasant' had yet to appear in any sane beast's dictionary.
"Wazzy," she began, trudging toward him, "I said let's be... Oh." Gloria paused, blinking down at a host of familiar – if bloodied – faces. "Had t'do something with the sorry saps' bodies, aye," the stoat reasoned, scratching her nose. At least with the wintery season they hadn't begun to smell yet.
"Mm... I suppose they'd make decent puppets, though," the Captain of the Stormchaser mused.
Without reflecting on inherent ridiculousness of this statement, Gloria replied, "No. Too stiff. They wouldn't move about proper."
"Really?" The rat wriggled his snout. "What if we limbered them up a bit first? You know, stretching and bending? ...Ms. Gloria?"
The stoat had gone quiet, her eyes glazing over as an idea spread out its dark tendrils in her brain like a pernicious garden vine.
"Limber saps," Gloria muttered. "Limbs." She glanced at the forest and her maw curled up in malicious glee. "Tree limbs!"
Wazzock stroked his chin. "I don't think it would really be appropriate to replace their limbs with trees, Ms. Gloria. That's really going a bit far for what we're talking about he-"
"No, ye nitwit," the Captain of the Guard scoffed. "We put a few of these beasties in the trees above the road and rig 'em t'fall. Give those foreign fops the fright of their lives and do a bit of morale crushing while we're at it. Nyeheheh..."
The rat blinked at her for a moment, then nodded as he stood up. "That does sound a bit clever. Can we tie strings to them, though? So they look like puppets? Nothing says 'I hate morale' like puppets, you know."
"Aye..." Gloria tapped her snout, considering the request. "But there'll be no costume changes." She narrowed her eyes and poked Wazzock in the chest with her hook. "I'll not be having this turned into Lady Halb's Gardenia Tea Party."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Ms. Gloria! Never give a repeat performance when you can go all new, I say!"
"That's settled, then." She nodded. "First unit start..." She turned back to see everybeast within hearing range gaping at them like fish.
"What is wrong with you two?" Wright ventured.
Gloria blinked, then snorted. "Aye..." She waved vaguely at the rat. "He has the stupidest ideas. I'm sure ye can relate, Wright."
"But Ms. Gloria," Wazzock said, sounding thoroughly put out, "you said-"
She whirled about and punched him, sending the rat stumbling back and into the pit. "They are rather stiff," was the faint reply that wafted up from the depths.
"As I was saying," the stoat continued, "first unit, get Cap'n Pike out of there, then pick ten of yer fav'rite bodies and get them up, as well." Nobeast moved and Gloria snapped her claws impatiently. "Come along now! There's work t'be done."
Ye'd think we were sitting down t'tea the speed they're moving at, she thought, rolling her eyes. Somebeasts just didn't appreciate swift, decisive action.
--- --- ---
* The secondary library, that is. The Unsmudgables had cordoned off the main library after they had caught the majority of the Stormchaser crew licking the book pages. The Navybeasts claimed that Gloria had told them the books used grog-based ink, but the lady stoat had firmly denied this accusation throughout the evening. Still, Regi had seen fit to ban her from the main library on principle.
** 'Dear one' was Regi's way of prefacing any blatantly insensitive or ego-bruising statement. He had once used it on Lord Arnold when the minister asked about his weight, which quickly led to a very awkward silence and the promise to never compare waist-sizes again.
