L'EDgendary

by dobanochi

A few years since we last saw any of them, the Peach Creek Boys and the Merry Men run into one another at just the right time, working together to undermine an oppressive city government as well as their burgeoning insecurities. An action-comedy-drama character study about friendship, leadership, self-esteem, and the divide between who we're born as and who we choose to be.

54. The Place of the Lion

54. "The Place of the Lion"

Dear Reader, have you ever had one of those conversations that's so awkward that it cycles around to almost being mellow and casual because all involved parties know it's going to be an inherently awkward conversation, so nobody bothers to try to make it any less awkward and just tries instead to relax and it consequently becomes almost comfortable in its awkwardness?

"...And you're familiar with the loo," said the lion disinterestedly as he walked the vixen and ewe into the bathroom.

This was one of those conversations. Mayor Norman was taking the liberty of showing his new houseguests around a mayoral mansion they were already very familiar with. Therefore all three of them were just calmly meandering through this tour as a silly old formality.

"I see you've added a walk-in fur dryer," Marian noted, trying not to sound bored.

"Ah, yes, added the year after you two moved out. Had to catch up to the Twenty-First Century." Prince John was also trying to not sound bored, but he lacked the ladies' acting training so he wasn't doing quite as well of a job. "And we just put in new shower curtains just two weeks ago! I'm proud to say I did the installation myself!"

There were indeed fresh-looking shower curtains, but they were incredibly basic off-white plastic-y ones that were likely purchased at the nearest department store; installing them probably didn't entail much more than taking the old curtain off the hooks and slipping the new one on.

"Och, new shower curtains, how fancy!" Annie quipped. "Such admirable handiwork! ...Did you install the camera yourself as well?"

They all looked up at the shrouded corner behind where the door opened up. There was indeed a security camera there, and not a small and discreet one either, but a big boxy one like you'd see at a bank.

"Oh, no, I cannot take credit for that one," said the mayor, feigning bashfulness. "I don't actually recall who specifically installed them as, much like the walk-in dryer, they were added years ago, after that… terrible incident."

"Now… Uncle John…" Marian began gently, "I know you may not know much about women, but ladies don't typically like a live security camera recording them in the toilet, especially their own!"

"Ah, I must confess I'm no big fan of the arrangement myself," Prince John answered with a strange singsonginess, "but it is for the greater good! Our own protection! The only way we can ensure we have eyes and ears on any and all intruders is to monitor every inch of the premises from every angle!" Y'know, from the girls' lower angle, they could see his hat was being held in place by both Scotch tape and bobby pins, rather than just one or the other like usual.

"Where's the camera to cover that camera's blind spot then?" asked Kluck.

"...I beg pardon?"

"One camera can't cover a room, Johnny," said the sheep flatly. "It has its own blind spots. Unless it has a hundred-and-eighty-degree lens, which… I can see it doesn't."

The lion glanced at the camera again and seemed surprised, but also seemed accepting of this criticism.

"Ah! This is a brilliant point! I'll contact them at once to add a second camera to cover the-!"

"Or you can request that they remove the camera from this bathroom," Marian retorted, not even trying to look friendly about it.

"For the record, Johnny, we saw a bunch of other cameras like that in all the other rooms we've seen," Annie added, similarly not trying to hide her displeasure. "We just didn't care to mention them because we weren't surprised. But a camera in a young ladies' toilet? That's a new low."

But Prince John saw no reason not to smile. "But do recall, ladies, that this bathroom has a window and can very easily be a point of entry for an invader! The fact of the matter is that every room and hallway in this home is now equipped with surveillance technology!"

Marian raised an eyebrow. "Even your bathroom?"

John just smiled brighter. "But of course! Would you like to see it?"

The fox and the sheep glanced at each other before turning back to him and nodding. And so he led them off, using his fancy cane to full advantage to take the pressure off his aching ankle, and his new tenants followed.

The cameras really weren't surprising since Marian and Annie both knew for a fact that Prince John was being wholly disingenuous in his intentions. But was the camera in the bathroom a surprise? Well… they would soon make up their minds on that.

Because they knew that he knew that they knew that they were just there as bait to catch Robin. Mayor Norman was an idiot, but he wasn't stupid, and the two women were trying to figure out how he'd planned this accordingly. The obvious metaphor here was that this was all going to be one big mental chess match; this narrator will shamelessly utilize such a cliché metaphor anyway because it works splendidly for a strategic standoff like this.

They moved past the horse, the greyhound, and the polar bear who were moving all the boxes full of the gals' stuff into what was to be their bedroom. The entire mansion had a faux brick design all along the walls, floors, and ceilings of all the halls as well as a good number of the rooms, which came together with the structure's medieval castle-like exterior to make an abode very fitting of someone who had delusions of grandeur and royalty, a man who had no problem telling taxpayers less than three months after taking office that the city needed a new executive mansion to be built from scratch; John Norman told the press that it would be fitting for Nottingham, U.S.A., to have a castle that paid homage to the one in Nottingham, England, and that this was to be a gift to all future mayors and not just a present to himself. Down a separate hallway to a completely different wing of the house, the lion, vixen, and ewe arrived at the master bedroom.

"You're familiar with my personal quarters…" the mayor mumbled; it seemed like every room they entered, he introduced it with either you'll recall or you're familiar with, just adding to the unspoken cynicism about how unnecessary all of this was. "Oh! And before we take a peek into the lavatory, you'll notice my bedroom is likewise equipped with security monitoring devices."

Sure enough, there was another camera just like the ones all throughout the house up by the ceiling and pointed toward the window specifically. But he didn't let them dwell on it for long before guiding them into the bathroom.

The mayor flicked the lights on as the other two entered. It was an egregiously posh little loo with garish design choices that didn't even remotely mesh well together; the porcelain sink screamed Roaring Twenties while the walls had that same grayish-yellow medieval brick thing going on, and the bathtub and shower's basin was big and round enough to qualify as a small jacuzzi. And perhaps looking the most out of place was the video camera in the corner of the ceiling right above the toilet.

"You see?" the mayor gestured. "As uncomfortable as it may be, I am not exempt from the implemented safety measures!"

Annie and Marian looked upon the camera, trying to figure out whether this was too good to be true.

"You needn't put yourself through such discomfort, Uncle John," Marian eventually said, softly and slowly. "Nobody should need to feel so unsafe in their own home that they need to put a security camera in their own bathroom!"

"Ah, but it's a necessity! If they were to raid my-"

"If you really want to scare them off," Kluck interrupted, "why not project some confidence and get rid of some of the cameras?"

Was that great advice or terrible advice? It didn't matter; this entire conversation was a sham. They all knew who "they" referred to, and as much as Marian and Annie were trying to play dumb to confuse him, John was entirely expecting them to play dumb - and they knew that, so they had to play it smart to really confuse him.

Prince John smiled. "That's an excellent idea! I'll consider removing some of the cameras. Let's see whether they've finished moving all your things in, shall we?"

The cameras were decoys. They were obviously decoys. Upon close inspection, one could see that they didn't even have any wires connecting them to anything.

And Marian and Annie knew they were decoys. In what world would Uncle John put a functioning video camera in his own bathroom which didn't even have a window to the outside world? This was purely to sell the narrative that he had indeed installed cameras in every room of the house.

And Prince John knew they knew they were decoys. Because after last time when they found his cameras immediately, he fully expected them to expect him to have back-up cameras ready to go after they found the more obvious ones. Now that he'd gotten the obvious decoys discovered right off the bat, they'd quickly go looking for the "real" ones, which would be at once real cameras that were really recording them but which he expected them to find eventually, hidden away in the air vents where they wouldn't be found and accessed immediately (there weren't any screwdrivers ready to go in the house, so opening the vents would require some ingenuity) but which would buy him time to set up the real cameras, which he would have built into the walls while the ladies were under his watch at the office on a workday he'd make unnecessarily long. This was to say nothing of the dummy microphones he had blatantly hidden under the dressers and other furniture, which would lead them to investigate and find the real microphones tucked behind the bulbs in light fixtures, throwing them off from finding the actual microphones that he was hoping to have installed in the form of fake electrical sockets.

And Annie and Marian had a hunch that there were several layers of decoys here, it was just a question of how many. And they'd already discussed on the drive over whether they'd rather paint over the walls or cover them in posters if they got the inkling that Uncle John had just cameras in the walls and camouflaged their lenses.

The lion wasn't worried. He had home field advantage. If nothing else, he could just keep coming up with new backup traps before they discovered the previous wave. In his own weird way, John Norman was intelligent and self-confident, and that manifested itself in being proud of having learnt his lesson the first time not to underestimate these two. Therefore he would keep innovating to stay two steps ahead of them, and he believed he was clever enough to do it.

Marian and Annie knew, of course, that for all his sniveling cowardice, Uncle John did in fact have some faith in himself inasmuch as he had faith in himself to be a cunning villain, so they understood that their job was to catch up to his plans before he could run away with it.

The mayor told the movers to take a break; they were almost done anyway, seeing as they hadn't had much to move in the first place, but they were being paid handsomely so they weren't going to say no to a smoke break.

"You'll recall your dormitory…"

Walking into the guestroom, immediately to your left was the large walk-in closet before two parallel twin-sized beds with a small end-table between them facing a large, long dresser with a moderately large television set upon it along the wall to your right, a small desk tucked into the far corner next to the broad window on the far wall.

"Of course!" Annie remarked. "It still looks like a room at a Holiday Inn!"

...And the layout was absolutely a photocopy of most hotel rooms in North America, because this room had originally been an afterthought and Mayor Norman didn't care, but looking back on it, the decision worked quite nicely: now if that infernal Yorkshireman somehow got past security and met Marian in here, the beds would be just a bit too narrow for them to comfortably shag in, and there would be a decent chance that the sheep would awkwardly be in the same room at any given time with nowhere for her to excuse herself. And who said Prince John was incapable of a positive attitude?

"It's just as we remember it, Uncle John," said Marian, pretending to be overtaken by wistful nostalgia.

"Ah, but there have been some improvements!" the lion insisted. "Freshly repainted, new light fixtures last year… oh! And we've once again upgraded to modern times! No longer are you stuck with basic cable - after pulling a few strings, you now have satellite!" Prince John grabbed the remote control off the dresser and pressed the Power button. "Behold!"

The screen burst to life and came to display a scene from a bedroom not unlike the one they were presently standing in, complete with a vixen wearing pink, a ewe wearing blue, and a lion in an antiquated suit and top hat, all of whom had their backs to the camera, which appeared to be filming them from somewhere up and to the right. All three of them turned to look at the camera in the corner of the ceiling - the only one of these big, boxy, obvious cameras throughout the house that was actually plugged in.

"Oh - oh dear! How embarrassing!" the lion giggled nervously. "That feed was supposed to go to my telly, not yours! Heh, heh…"

Annie and Marian just nodded with blank expressions because it behooved them not to let John get any sort of a read on them.

But he could tell: they thought he was an idiot. Excellent. Go on, ladies! Go on, think he's completely incompetent! Underestimate him! In his mind, the dumber they thought he was, the less effort they'd put into outsmarting him, making it all the easier for him when he made his moves.

"...Would you mind if Annie and I had a moment alone?" asked Marian innocently.

"Oh, surely! It is your bedroom now, after all; I am but a guest! Let me know when you're ready to move on, I'll be using the loo myself!" And Prince John walked out, fully expecting that they'd destroy, dismantle, or in some way disable the camera and welcoming them to do so; now he was pondering whether he shouldn't put real cameras in and only have the obvious decoys so as to further make them exhaust themselves on a wild goose chase and to psychologically torture them accordingly.

When the door closed behind him, the fox and the sheep walked up to it and peeked through the peephole - which was notably at a height befitting of a stunted lion and not a vixen nor a ewe, necessitating Mari to get a boost from Annie. Prince John was not standing immediately outside the door; he had seemingly kept his promise to leave them alone for a little bit. With the coast clear, the two women spoke candidly:

"Alright," Marian began, "he's clearly smarter than we gave him credit for if he's already making intentional mistakes to get us to think he's stupid."

"Clearly!" replied Annie. "I expected him to come out braggin' about how smart and prepared he was, but he really seems to have gone out of his way to try to get us to let our guards down! - It isn't working, but he must be thinking this through further than we thought he would!"

Marian turned to look again at the security camera. "So we know this one actually works… did you see any wires or cords sticking out of the others?"

"No, and I was lookin' specifically for that."

"What if these cameras don't require the wires and the ones here are just for show? What if he wants us to think they're all dummy cameras when in reality they actually work?"

"Then we tear them all off the walls either way!"

"But that's what he wants us to do! Waste our time and energy cutting a million dead snakes' heads off instead of figuring out how to meet Robin and his friends."

Kluck looked around the room as she pondered. "If he'd be willing to set up decoys just to toy with us… is it possible some of the cameras are decoys and some are real, and he made them indistinguishable? Or would that be givin' him too much credit?"

The vixen just sat down and then collapsed onto the nearest bed. "Oh, but we already underestimated his ability to plan for us overestimating him!" Then she sat up and tried to parse out the words that had just come out of her mouth. "Er… wait, no, he bet on us underestimating him… good lord, this is so confusing."

Annie just threw her hooves up in annoyance. "I told you, Mari! We should have come here with a plan! Now we're playing defense to his offense!"

"I don't recall you having any good ideas, Klucky!" Marian shot back, only half-pretending to be angry at her remark. "But… maybe we're still overestimating him. Just because he got off to a good start doesn't mean he knows what he's doing after this."

The sheep was not much less confused. "Did we not just agree that he wanted us to think he was daft so we'd go easy on him!?"

"We did. He does."

"So does he want us to think he's stupid or brilliant!?"

Marian paused to choose her words carefully. "...Brilliantly stupid. Idiotic to the point of genius."

Kluck just shook her head violently in frustration and began pacing impatiently around the room.

The fox was still putting the pieces together in her head. "...Are we playing it too smart?"

Annie stopped pacing. "How so?"

"Well…" Marian began as she stood from the bed, "...much like how he wants us to think he's stupid so we don't try so hard to outwit him-"

"I get that! But what are we doin' that's too smart for him!?"

"...Well, off the top of my head, pointing out that the camera in the toilet had a huge blind spot probably didn't help us very much."

Kluck responded by simply grunting and groaning at herself in frustration. "...Can you blame me, though!?" she eventually said. "Can you really fault me for wantin' to point out how stupid he was to his face!? Before we realized that was part of his plan!?"

"And I'm guilty of it, too; I shouldn't have pressed him to prove that he was surveilling himself as well…" The vixen sighed. "...but now we know better for next time." And she began pacing around the room herself, looking around as if in search of something physically occupying the space rather than just nebulous inspiration.

"What're you thinkin' now?" asked Annie.

"Recording us cannot be all of it," Marian mused. "Too one-note. I reckon that a man who likes to pretend he lives in a medieval castle would probably have some medieval traps in here."

Kluck's face lightened up as she realized this was a good point. "Any ideas where?"

"I don't see any obvious ones that would make us think he's an idiot…"

"But what if he doesn't want these to be quite so stupid?" the sheep observed. "And really… why would he want to trap us? It's Robin he wants!"

The vixen nodded, then glanced at the window, snapped her fingers, and pointed to it as she walked herself over. "Let's check the entrance."

"Attagirl, Mari!"

Marian walked up to the sill - very carefully, feeling the wood floor with her sneaker to make sure it was safe. "Well, no trapdoors here…"

But Annie saw something else of note as she leaned in. "Looks like the floorboards are splinterin' pretty badly."

The fox huffed. "He wants us to think he's too incompetent to maintain a decent home, he actually has this set up it's a hindrance for anyone coming through the window to get in."

"Or for anyone going through the window to get out," Annie observed. "Or it could simply be, you know, it's nighttime, you have your shoes off, someone's at the window, you go without thinking and get a bunch of splinters in your pads, Robin sees you hurting and forces his way in just to stumble and land upside down to meet a faceful of wood spikes-"

"Yes, I suppose we'll just have to remember to keep our shoes on in this room." Marian began to open the window, which slid upwards, but it was proving a tough challenge. "Hrm… bloody heavy window!" She was getting it open at least a couple inches, so it certainly wasn't locked or anything, but it just kept slipping back down.

"Hold on, lass!" Kluck pulled over the small wooden chair from the nearby desk before putting her own weight into opening up the window all the way, then holding it up as Marian lifted the chair into the gap as a wedge. They both let out a groaning sigh of relief when it was finally done.

Marian, however, noticed the vertical metal running rails in the sill were markedly dirty-looking. She touched it and rubbed a slippery substance between her fingers. "The bastard oiled the window."

"That makes two traps," Annie counted. "I'll confess that a greased window hadn't even crossed my mind!"

But Marian was still fixed on her paw. "I'm not sure it's regular grease, though, it kind of smells like…" She sniffed her fingers. "...butter? Eww…" She shuddered a bit as she wiped her paw on her jeans.

Now that it was as safe, they stuck their heads out the window and looked straight down, finding a… giant… spiderweb?

"Is that a Halloween decoration!?" Kluck remarked incredulously.

Yes it was. A large net of thick grayish-white yarn reached from the bottom of their second-and-a-half-story window to the ground of the garden a good twenty or thirty feet from the foundation of the house.

Marian reached down and grabbed a strand to yank and fuss with it, coming to look a tad frustrated as it took longer than she expected, but sure enough, the string did eventually snap.

"Just as I thought. Sturdy enough to trick him into thinking it's climbable, flimsy enough to ensure it'll give way under him when he's already halfway up."

"And also making it that much harder for him to just climb the wall right under the window," Annie added, noticing that the top of the web went far beyond the width of the window.

"Ah, I hadn't even thought about that…" Marian said, slightly annoyed with herself. "...But what's preventing him from just tearing it down?"

"Just like you said! It's just strong enough to fool him into trying to climb it! I think this is something for him to think your uncle is an easy match."

Marian nodded half-heartedly as she kept scanning the yard. "...What's that?" she asked, pointing to a tree.

"...Is that a rope swing?"

"I think it is… who in this house would want a rope swing? Is he even trying to hide that these are traps?"

The swing was a single rope with a small board of wood at the bottom, held in place by a knot. With a platform for one's feet, it wouldn't be hard at all to swing from it and jump forward a good distance, but as Marian and Annie held out their fingers to trace the trajectory and do some mental math…

"Do you think he could make it?" Marian asked. "I'd have thought he'd put it too far away to tease him into thinking he could make it, but… I think it's close enough?"

"Ah, it's just about pushing it," said Kluck, "unless…" The ewe had the thought to grab the small concrete ledge outside their window, and sure enough, it was loose. It didn't pop out of the wall or crumble in her hooves, but it did rock back and forth to disqualify it from being called sturdy. "Ah, that does it!"

"Perhaps we should call somebody and tell them this home isn't up to code!" the vixen suggested, at once serious and silly. "Ah, but what kind of people would you even call for that?"

"Och, I think that's only an issue when someone's tryin' to sell a home -"

That was when they heard the wood of the chair start creaking.

"Oh, blimey…"

The ladies pulled their heads out of the window, then strained to lift the window just enough to extract the chair before it slammed shut.

Three loud knocks came from the door shortly thereafter.

"Ladies?" called the mayor. "Is all well in there? I heard something loud slamming!" His concern was genuine; he didn't want to find that they had had their heads out the window when the window slammed down on their necks, and he was cursing himself for lubricating it a bit too rigorously. A damsel in distress is no good as bait if the damsel is also decapitated.

Annie and Marian opened the door, much to his relief.

"Och, nae, we're fine!" the sheep insisted.

"Such a heavy window, though, Uncle," the fox mused innocently.

The lion welcomed himself into the room. "Indeed it is, as are many windows in this house, but this is not the Old Country, so we do have air conditioning to see us through these summer months!" He was very surprised to find that not only was the camera intact, they hadn't even bothered to extinguish the TV, so the live feed was still broadcasting to themselves. "So, is the room all to your liking?"

Marian looked around the room one more time, pondering the wise way to answer that. "If not in the bedroom, is there a computer anywhere in the house?" Yeah, you'd think Prince John would jump at the chance to provide them with a computer and stuff it full of tracking devices and spyware.

"A computer?" Mayor Norman asked incredulously. "Ladies, this is a home, not a workplace, I couldn't ask you to take your business home with you!" he said with a dismissive hand-wave.

"But computers aren't just for offices anymore, Johnny!" said Kluck. "Mari and I want to find some acting opportunities while we're here; surely you know they're all posted online these days!" The internet could also provide them with a plethora of other resources, such as much-needed maps of Sherwood and maybe some information on where Will might be.

"You said you're striving to modernize, didn't you?" Marian asked her uncle sweetly.

The lion was smiling back, but it seemed just as kindly as it did condescending. "Yes, but one must take small steps, mustn't one? And I don't see much of a point in purchasing a home computer simply for the sake of browsing classified ads. But not to worry! You'll have access to the world wide web on the computers at the office! Speaking of which, I suppose there's no time like the present to go see your new work environment! Shall we, ladies?"

And with that, the mayor made an about-face and walked out of the room. Marian and Annie realized that they had little say in stopping him, so they followed and shut the door behind them. But before walking too far away, the vixen silently nudged the ewe and pointed towards the door's peephole. Kluck again knelt down to get a hold of Mari under the waist and lift her up; yes indeed, the peephole was two-way.

-IllI-

The limousine was ready outside, the rhinoceros bodyguard standing stoically at its rear door awaiting its passengers.

"Ah, and you've yet to meet my new bodyguard," said the mayor as his guests approached the vehicle with them.

Marian thought it would be nice to do a pretend curtsy to greet him. "Marian. A pleasure to meet you."

Kluck instead opted for a handshake. "How's it goin' there? Annie."

The rhino had fully expected John's new housemates to be as cold and callous as the lion himself, so being pleasantly surprised by their kindness, the bodyguard actually found himself cracking a slight smile. "Ra'Quan," he replied.

"Oh, but that's such a strange, goofy name!" Prince John chuckled to the girls as he put an arm as far around the back of the rhino as he could. "We all just call him Rocky!"

Rocky's smile disappeared instantly. He opened the door and turned his head to face somewhere in the distance, but with his sunglasses you couldn't tell where his eyes were actually looking.

"Thank you, Rocky," said the mayor as he gestured for his guests to enter before him. "Now, for this particular trip, would you mind sitting up front with Lawrence?"

Rocky just nodded without looking at him. John made his way in, the rhino closed the door behind him, and that was that.

Inside the cabin, the lion sat himself down opposite the fox and sheep, and immediately started scooting sideways toward the cooler and glass rack. "Care for some wine, ladies?"

"Oh, er… no thank you," Marian tried politely to decline.

"Ah, but are you sure?" the mayor pressed as he extracted a bottle. "It's not every day you're offered free wine!"

Oh, I'm sure living with you that there will be plenty of wine to go around! Marian quipped to herself.

"Och, but it's nine-thirty in the morning, Johnny!" Annie quipped to everyone out loud. "A wee bit early to start imbibing, don't you think?"

Prince John's face soured as he stopped pretending to be cordial. "Well as my guests, I insist you join me." He stuck in a corkscrew, but couldn't get it in very deep and found himself having some trouble opening it. "Argh! Erm, just, just a moment, I… I usually have Charles to do this for me… aaaaarrrgh!"

He strained to get a grip and turn the handle, but after groaning and struggling and screaming and putting all of his body weight into it, he finally did pop it open, small droplets flying all over the interior of the compartment.

"...Ah! There we are!" the lion sighed as he poured himself a glass, then poured another two and offered it to his fellow passengers. "After all that trouble, won't you please join me?"

...Well, after a spectacle like that, they couldn't say no.

As the women accepted the drinks, they both independently had the notion that if they hadn't just seen the bottle be freshly opened, they'd have good reason to be skeptical of the integrity of the wine. It would have been a very simple way for Prince John to get ahead of them with a million things he could have slipped in: he could have given them something to make them pass out so he could take them to a secret room to interrogate them, or he could administer that street drug that makes you lose your inhibitions and effectively works as a truth serum, or - if he completely lacked subtlety and forethought and sought to harm his bait - he could simply poison them. But no, he was drinking the same wine as they were.

...Oh, but what if this whackjob was willing to take himself out to get them? We'll all pass out, Lawrence, you and Rocky will know where to take us and they'll wake up when I wake up. Now that sounded like something Prince John would do to get some information out of Marian and Annie - not that they knew much more than he did, possibly even less than he knew if his police were halfway decent at their jobs, but he didn't know that. Or, if this guy's villainy had become even more cartoonish over the years, maybe he somehow had an antidote for whatever he was about to drug them with and he planned to dose himself as soon as the girls were past the point of no return. Probably not, that all sounded rather outlandish, but… hell, if anybody on Planet Earth was outlandish enough to do that, it would be the lion sitting across from them.

Therefore Annie and Marian didn't immediately start sipping the red wine upon receiving the glasses. They were on the same wavelength, so they didn't need to say it out loud: there was a slim, but nonzero, chance that John was about to pull a fast one on them.

And as John himself sat there wondering whether truth serums existed in reality or were just the province of fiction, he simply smiled at the two ladies, waiting for them to take a swig.

"...Girls, why the hesitance? It's perfectly good wine."

"Ah, we trust it is, but…" Marian raised her glass. "...A toast? To a new chapter of our lives… and to you, Uncle John."

Annie joined in raising her glass with a fake smile of her own. "To John Norman!"

And Prince John couldn't help but feel flattered, shrugging as he grinned and raised his glass. "Yes, to me!"

Clink! Clink!

And then all three of them held their glasses in front of themselves, staring at each other with intent smiles. And not moving.

"...Typically, ladies, after a toast, one consumes their drink."

"But the first to take a drink should be the guest of honor, Uncle!"

"But you two are my guests!"

"But you're the man of honor, Johnny!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

The women started raising their glasses and the mayor followed before they all stopped shy of sipping.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Uncle, we almost drank before you!"

"Oh, no it's quite alright, you go ahead, ladies!"

"Oh, no, it's quite alright, you go ahead, sir!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

Another fake-out from Annie. Then John pulled one. Then Marian actually got the glass close enough to her to tip the glass towards her mouth, but again stopped short of actually making contact with the liquid.

"Ah, it has a wonderful aroma!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"What country is it from?" asked the sheep. "French, Italian, Spanish?"

"South African, actually."

"Ooh!"

"Yes, I'm trying to explore the world of wine beyond just the big three. I actually have Russian, Portuguese, and Chilean wines at home in line to be tried, and a Chinese bottle is en route, now that ought to be exotic!"

"Oh, how exciting!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Ahem! Oh, excuse me."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Hrm."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Oh! Pardon me, me shoe's untied!"

"Not a problem."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Er…"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Tastes a bit bitter, don't you think?"

John's head snapped away from watching the ewe tie her shoe to face his niece. "What was that?"

"The wine, Uncle. It's rather bitter."

He cocked his head. "You tried it?"

"I did."

"...But I didn't see you-"

"You seemed enthralled by watching Annie lace her shoe."

"Aye, I saw her sip it in the corner of me eye!" added Kluck. "What a wretched face she made!"

The lion looked back and forth between the vixen and the ewe, not knowing if he had any way of knowing if they were telling the truth. Ah, well, the stalemate had to end eventually (I actually severely shortened it here, Dear Reader, it went on for like five minutes) so the mayor could commend their efforts and take a drink.

And the smiles he saw on their faces when he lowered his glass made it clear he'd been duped.

"Ah… not any more bitter than a typical wine, I'd say. At least we know it hasn't been impurely sweetened, which is why I have no plans to cross Austria off my wine map!"

Marian and Annie waited another few moments to make sure the lion had no adverse reactions to the wine, but when the coast was clear, they rewarded themselves for a job well done with a long, healthy draft.

Prince John relaxed in his seat and swished his wine around. "So, Marian, how's your love life?"

"PFFFFFBBBBBBBTTT!"

The mayor sat perfectly still for a moment before extracting a handkerchief and wiping down the .any droplets of wine that had just been spittled out all over him, his clothes, and his entire side of the limousine.

The ladies' mouths were still agape from his question. Marian tried to speak first:

"Erm… what exactly do you mean by -?"

"That's an extremely rude question to ask a lady, Johnny!" Annie snapped. "And it's especially inappropriate to a lass you call your niece!"

But John remained steadfastly confident in his choice of words. "But is it that inappropriate? It's not like Marian and I are actually blood related -"

He trailed off when he noticed the girls' eyes burst open in horror. Okay, now Prince John was regretting his diction.

"Oh-! Nonononono!" he begged with a paw held out as if urging them to stop. "That's not what I meant! That's not what I… that wasn't at all what I was suggesting! Oh, nonono. I… now that would be inappropriate between an uncle and niece! Ahem! And besides, I'm far too busy with my work anyway! Heh, heh…"

His niece still looked dreadfully uncomfortable, while her friend looked like she was two seconds from socking him in the face.

"Then what did you mean?" demanded Annie.

"Yes, I'm… curious," Marian squeaked.

"Er… harrumph, erm…" The lion was at a loss for words. "I just meant… small talk! To get to know you better! We hardly have the chance to talk, Marian, and if we're to be dwelling together, we'd best be up to speed with one another's personal lives - as much as is appropriate, of course! Heh, ha, erm…"

Now the ladies had figured out what he had really been trying to say. "You mean… do I have a bloke in my life?" Marian asked.

John smiled nervously. "Precisely!"

"You could have just asked her if she was seeing anyone!" said Kluck.

"Ah, but where's the flavor in that?" the mayor asked with a creepy smirk.

Annie just rolled her eyes. Yeah, she thought that Robin cheated his way into being classy, but at least he didn't have the worse and opposite problem of being completely charmless like Prince John.

Prince John, however, was unfazed by this criticism. "So are you seeing someone, Marian? I hope I didn't tear you away from anyone in Washington!"

Marian nodded slowly and subtlety, enough to convey that she understood the question but not enough to suggest she was replying in the affirmative. So… was her uncle genuinely asking whether she'd moved on from Robin, or was this another case of him trying to play dumb so badly that it made him actually seem dumb which, as we've established, could very well make him seem smart? Well, in either case, the truth would probably have thrown him off the most.

"Not at the moment, Uncle John, but I have been making an earnest effort to look."

Much like she anticipated, her uncle was visibly surprised by that ambiguous answer.

"Oh! Erm… good, er, good for you for trying, Marian!" he stammered. "I know love can be a difficult thing to navigate, I know I've certainly struggled in finding it despite everything one would think would be working in my favor-!"

"Yes, a good man seems hard to find these days," the vixen murmured absentmindedly.

"Well, hopefully the men of Nottingham provide you with better fortune! And if I can be of any assistance in finding you find a partner, I can look into my network for single men-"

"She's not dating your chief of police!" Kluck interrupted. "Nor your little weasel friend!"

The lion kept smiling, if more awkwardly now. "I… wasn't going to suggest that. Too old for her, just for starters." Yeah, Prince John genuinely had just been offering for the sake of saying something nice, he had no intentions of hooking his niece up with anybody at the NPD - although the squirrel might be less of an irritable little malcontent if he could find a girl he could really "get inside" - oh, God, that image was so odd and kind of gross, but now John couldn't stop thinking about how peculiar that would be. Like, that had to have happened at some point in mammalian history, right? Rodent or some other small species hooks up with a much larger girl and the rodent uses his entire body as a -

"Er… Uncle John?"

The lion realized he was bent forward all of a sudden.

"What are ye' laughing at, Johnny?"

The mayor regained his computer and pushed the perverted thought out of his head, reassuming a dignified sitting position and body posture. "Oh, nothing, nothing of importance… oh! And for posterity, our friend Woodland is no longer merely the chief of police, he's the sheriff now!"

The women looked at the mayor as though he'd just told them that the Moon had just announced its retirement and its vacancy was going to be filled by Jupiter.

"How… is that possible?" asked Marian.

"Aren't sheriffs on a county level over here?" asked Annie.

"Ah, yes, but all will be explained when we meet everyone at the office! Oh, and by the way…" He dug around in the cooler again. "I kept forgetting to bring these in from the limousine, but I suppose it's all worked out! Speaking of good men being hard to find.." And from the cooler he extracted a small bottle, which he handed to his niece. "A welcoming gift to you, Marian."

Each of the women let out an audible gasp.

"Fox Repellent!?" Marian hollered in horror.

"Springer's Fox Repellent!" Prince John elaborated. "Xtra Strength! The best on the market!"

The vixen looked up and made a point to glare as deeply into the lion's soul as she could. "Why on earth would I want a product designed to hurt my people, made by bigots who think that my people are always out to hurt them?"

"It's not designed to hurt foxes, it's designed to hurt bad foxes," the mayor answered with a calm smile.

"If I recall correctly," the ewe cut in, "that company also makes Big Cat Repellent."

Prince John's face soured for just a moment before he returned to his self-righteous smile. "I'd not be surprised if they do, Miz Klug, because this is a truth of life: people are creeps."

Don't we know it? each of the girls found themselves thinking.

John leaned in and gave his niece a sincere look as he held out the spray bottle. "Marian… hopefully this will never happen, but there may come a day when a man wants to follow you around… perhaps wanting to have his way with you… maybe even harboring desires to hurt you. And if and when that happens, it will more likely than not be a tod."

"I'm bigger than most tods," the vixen growled.

The mayor just nodded knowingly. "But the kind of tods who might want to harm you would likely also be the ones who have the confidence and fortitude to take on someone bigger than themselves."

"I'm stronger than most tods," the vixen growled louder. "There was already a tod who tried to do something like that to me; he learned quickly not to try to mess with me."

John stopped smiling fast. "Oh… oh, dear. My oh my, I… I'm sorry to hear that. Devastated! That's terrible! And… if I may say so, I'm just glad you were able to get through that! You're a strong woman in more ways than one, Marian, and you should be proud of yourself." Was the mayor being sincere when he said that? Or was he such a sicko that he was feigning sympathy even for something as dire as this? We may never know, because one way or another, he was tone-deaf enough to let a smile creep onto his face again as he once more went fishing in the cooler. "But… if tods are not the issue and larger species pose a more tangible threat… perhaps this can be of use!"

Drumroll, please…

...Springer's Bear Repellent. Also Xtra Strength. Cool, so now I guess any semblance of subtlety was out the fucking window at this point…

"I've been recently informed that your people and the ursine race have a sort of 'brain and brawn,' 'us against the world' sort of alliance between the two of you," the lion explained. "Whether that extends to amorous thoughts, I don't claim to know, but I figured it would be best to err on the side of caution… plus, they were two-for-one, so this one was basically free -"

"Those sprays are hard enough to find being sold in-person because the company knows their only consumers are racists!" Annie shouted. "I'd know because I've run into ewes carrying their Wolf Repellent - which probably would have been a smarter choice for a canine girl anyway! - and those ewes always moan about how hardly any stores carry it! Where did you find them that had a fooking buy-one-get-one promotion on them!?"

And the lion looked like a deer caught in headlights. "The… Internet… Store?"

The fox and the sheep just stared at him, partially in anger but mostly in pity. Perhaps they were right the first time: maybe John Norman was just an idiot.

-IllI-

Dear Reader, this narrator will be frank with you: cop stuff ain't my bag. Like, I've never watched a police procedural show because the concept just doesn't interest me, and even in reality, things like plea deals and district attorneys and laws are still concepts I'm not super-duper clear on. When I first got encouragement to start documenting the bizarre events that happened in Delaware back in '05 (because apparently I'm the most competent writer any of these people know, which is sad), I thought I could just figure out the parts about the fine details of the NPD as I went along with the interviews with the surviving participants and got everybody's side to the story. And I thought I was doing a pretty good job winging it until a friend from Z-Town asked me to make a whole-ass other blog to also tell the story of some weird shit that happened over there just recently which heavily involved their police department (in preparation for which I tried watching an episode of Chicago P.D. but I fell asleep and when I woke up it took me two or three minutes before I realized P.D. had ended I was now seeing Chicago Fire) and now as I interview all of them I'm starting to get the idea that… y'know, not even so much that I was getting it wrong, but more so that the NPD just wasn't operating as a normal police department and I never addressed it because I never realized it myself. Hey, I never told you to think of me as a reliable narrator.

What I'm trying to say, Dear Reader, is that it never even crossed my mind how thoroughly Eddward Clair Woodland had managed to shirk his obligations as the chief of a city police department and later as the sheriff of a county.

As I'm now learning from this most recent round of discussions with these individuals, during his reign as the Chief of Police before the departments were unified, Woodland had used his power to take all the traditional duties of a police chief that he didn't want to do and delegate them to other people. The department had someone on the payroll in charge of overseeing applications, multiple people for testing and training those new hires, someone else to evaluate, promote, demote, and fire cops as they saw fit, someone to do the budgeting and analyze crime stats, someone to actually read and review police reports, someone to just be around when other cops or the press had questions for an authority figure, and while the wolf would sometimes swoop in to dole out casework, he mostly left that up to one or two other people. And if their boss had no motivation to do his job well, you can imagine that the people they put in place didn't have much more motivation, hence the blatant disarray that made the department infamous among major U.S. cities.

Because administrative stuff just didn't interest him, and since he was in the mayor's back pocket, nobody was able to tell him not to shove the core duties of his job onto someone else. In his head, the only appeal of his lofty position was that he could be an overpowered SuperCop, roaming his city's streets and dishing out justice with virtually nobody to answer to but himself, kind of like Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard (and the fact that that pig was unambiguously the bad guy in that show didn't seem to bother him - wait, stop, I'm on Wikipedia right now, you mean Boss Hogg wasn't the sheriff on that show, he was the county commissioner!? What was the sheriff's name then? …"Coltrane"? I have never heard of this character. Jesus, I told you people I don't watch shows that prominently feature cops. Okay, so maybe Woodland wanted to be the Coltrane to Prince John's Hogg… I guess? Man, you know who's really pissed at me right now for getting that wrong? Johnny. I know that redneck loved that show in his teenage years and while telling me about his adventures he has on several occasions compared himself and Robin to that show's two heroes - not that I remember what their names were), and Ward could take or leave any other privileges of power that came with his title, often choosing to leave them.

But things change and now Ward wasn't the chief of police anymore, he was the county sheriff, and ironically, now that he was closer to being that kind of sheriff with an entire county to just freewheel around at his own discretion, he was now facing more pushback to doing whatever the hell he wanted than he ever had before. When the County department was absorbed, all the cops Woodland had assigned to do the boring parts of his job immediately complained about how the massive influx of people and territory to deal with made their jobs impossible, and the former County officers put up a stink demanding the wolf actually start doing some of his duties; the former Sheriff Elkins was problematic to be sure, but at least he performed the traditional duties of a sheriff himself. After more than a week of this, there was unavoidable pressure to at least get somebody designated to do the things Ward wasn't interested in doing; get someone to deal with traffic control if he wouldn't, get someone to transport prisoners to Nottingham County Prison all the way out in Blades and work with its warden if he wouldn't, get someone to show up in court on his behalf to testify on behalf of the state (at least in cases that didn't interest him) if he wouldn't, get someone to actually oversee all the other cases that didn't interest him if he wouldn't, and for the love of God, get more people doing all the basic Police Chief shit he still refused to do because the people he pawned that off onto had quickly become overworked. So yeah, all this is starting to give this narrator the impression that Ward Woodland wasn't exactly orthodox in his leadership methods.

So apparently high-ranking cops have… desks? And offices? I mean, now that I think about it, I guess that makes sense, but nobody in our interviews this far has alluded to Ward setting foot in such a room since the events of this story began. But there he found himself, leafing through pages on his desk and files on his computer, trying to figure out who he should designate to this task and that, and drawing a complete blank on who to put where.

His deputy was at his own desk in his own office - which was a much smaller desk and computer on top of the desk that was already in the room when he inherited it - performing similar duties. Nutsy was much more used to this kind of work; he'd risen to the position of deputy this way. After his stint being the go-to guy to send to scenes of grisly rodent crime, George pitched a fit and demanded they either start distributing the gory calls equally among their rodent officers or reassign him; as it happened, Woodland had himself recently demanded he be given an assistant to read his memos and emails because he just really didn't want to. The powers-that-be thought they were punishing George by making him take such mind-numbing work, but he found it to be a piece of cake, though it didn't last long as Chief Woodland fired his chief's deputy because that guy was bugging him to stop aimlessly cruising so much and start spending more time at his desk doing his job, and when that happened, the wolf found his new sidekick in the squirrel he had come to build a rapport with when they discussed daily all the bitching and moaning Ward had received in the mail. Because most of the rest of the force knew little about Nutzinger, who'd spent his entire policing career to that point off in the periphery either in the world of rodents or sitting alone in a room, nobody could come up with a good reason why George shouldn't have gotten the nod.

And Nutsy was perfectly content to be doing that soulless work again for a day. He found himself going through Ward's work email again (the department had since drawn the line and said that Woodland couldn't just make somebody answer his emails full-time), his headphones plugged in as he once again jammed to some of his favorite tunes.

"I'm sorry Miss Jaaackson, (ooooh!), III aaam fooor REEEEEEE-eeeeeal! Neeever meaaant to maaake ya' daughta' cry, III apolllogiiize a triiillion -!"

Knock knock knock.

"What is it, Ward?"

The wolf welcomed himself in. "You didn't even look up to see who it was! You recognize the way I knock?"

"Naw, man, I could smell ya through the door," the squirrel replied as he paused his music. "Whaddya need my help with now?"

Ward chuckled nervously as he laid some copies of some cops' records on his deputy's desk. "Heh… now, Nutsy, I'll admit where I ain't the best at sumpthin'! You got so much more experience than me with this paper stuff-!"

"You need me to teach you how to read?"

The sheriff scoffed. "Nutsy, I can read just fine! But…" he spread out the sheets of paper so George could get a better look. "...they want me ta' go through all these papers and decide who deserves ta' get a special job working with me! How am I supposed ta' make a choice out a' all these people!?"

The deputy blinked at him. "For the record, I was mostly joking when I asked if you needed me to teach you how to read."

"Goddammit, Nutsy, I know how to read!" the wolf hollered as he slammed his fist on the table, bouncing the squirrel up and out of his seat.

"Well, hey, this is nothing but reading and comprehension, dude!" George protested as he stood back up. He walked over to the sheets and gestured broadly towards them. "You read their records, see what they've done well, see what they've done badly, cross-reference that with what you personally know about them, and make a judgment call. It's literally that simple."

Woodland replied with a sly smile. "If it's so easy, then… then it oughta not be a problem for you ta' do it!"

Nutzinger just rolled his eyes. "Pull up a chair. I'm gonna learn ya some extremely basic synthesis skills."

The wolf did pull up a chair and sat leaning over the squirrel and the papers. "You sure do roll your eyes a lot, Nutsy."

"Yeah, I'm starting to wonder if normal people roll their eyes this much or if I do it more than usual from always being around you. Alright, then…" With great effort, he spread out the top two sheets which were almost as big as he was. "M'kay, so let's just start with these two. So we got Melissa Sanders over here," he said as he gestured to a dusty-beige coyote on the page, then pointed to her history and stats. "People are always saying this force needs more women and small- and medium-sized species in positions of power on the force, hard to argue with that, and she has been on the force since '87… but she did get a DUI in '88."

"Oh," was all Ward could say at first. "...Oh, yeah, I remember that now!"

"Well, was that just a rookie mistake, or did she just get better at hiding her hypocrisy? I don't know her as well as you do, Wolfie, so I can't answer that for you."

"Hey, I don't know her that well, either! I'm just her boss!"

Embracing the bit, Nutsy rolled his eyes again, more exaggerated this time. "Exactly. You should know her… as her boss. Moving on, who's next? Ah, ole boy Jason, Officer Kerry!" he said feigning excitement as he pointed to the ox on the next page. "So as you can see, Jason's got a perfectly clean record on paper, but this is where the personal experiences come into play! What does everyone in the department know about Officer Kerry? Something bad that wouldn't be on his record."

The wolf cocked his head in confusion.

"...That's right, he clearly beats his wife and everyone knows it and does nothing to stop it! So with that in mind, which of the two of these people deserves to be eliminated from the running?"

"...Both… of… them…?"

"You know what? Not a bad answer! But for now, let's just get rid of Jason. Fuck you, Jason!" Nutzinger pushed Officer Kerry's record off the table and it floated to the ground. "Don't slip on that on the way out. But now we have to ask: is Melissa just the lesser of two evils, or is she actually good compared to… who's next? Ah, Brett Phillips!" George gestured to the horse on the paper. "Another guy with a clean record, but if you've spent any time around him, you'd know…" The squirrel gave the wolf a knowing look. "...he doesn't like predators."

Woodland didn't see what the big deal was. "Okay? What's the big deal about that? I don't like predators neither. That's why I'm a cop!"

Nutsy squinted in disbelief as his jaw hung open a little. "Ward, are you even dumber than I thought!? You are a predator!"

But the sheriff didn't care for such name-calling. Incensed, he stood straight up and snapped, pointing down at his pint-sized companion. "Nutsy, that is enough! I can deal with jokes here and there, but I ain't no predator! I ain't a rapist, I ain't a pedophile, I ain't a gang member, and if you're suddenly one of 'em people who thinks cops do nothin' but prey on their community -!"

"Not THAT kind of predator, you stupid piece of idiot!" George wasn't afraid to stay standing. "I meant roar, roar, kill, kill, you motherfuckers have always eaten meat! He doesn't like that!"

Ward mellowed out quickly as he came to understand the confusion and sat back down slowly. "Oh… ah, well… in my mind, us meat-eaters are normal ones and y'all vegetarians are just a bunch a' hippies!"

Nutzinger was out of clever quips and just gave his boss a bored look. "Well, one way or another, Brett doesn't like people like you for who you are for reasons you can't control. How does that make you feel?"

"...Well, fuck that guy, then!"

"Exactly! Toodles, Filly!" George bid as he pushed this sheet off the table as well. "So you can see where this goes. Hey, a hick like you watches pro wrestling, right? It's just like a Battle Royale! Just keep going one by one and eliminate the weaker candidate until only one is left!"

"All of 'em!?"

"That's the idea, bucko. Let's see who's next…" The squirrel regarded the Siberian husky on the next page. "Hey, Officer Pavlov, Niko the Russkie! My people don't usually get along with dogs, but Niko's a good boy, he's gonna be a tough one to beat… although his long-term raging alcoholism with zero DUIs makes for an interesting matchup against Mel and her one DUI despite otherwise having no further reputation for abusing the bottle. It's like a philosophical debate: is it a crime to be a boozehound? Is it more of a crime than a twenty-year-old Dewey? Hell, I kinda wanna see who wins this round."

But Ward still didn't see how this could possibly be that easy. "Well… whadda I do for the other positions they want me to fill?"

"Whaddya mean? Just do the same process with the pile they set aside for that job."

"They only gave me one pile a' papers, Nutsy."

His deputy suddenly looked horrified. "Wait, they did!?"

"Mmhmm. Told me 'here's er'ryone who wants a promotion, fill all these spots from these folks."

"Jesus, I thought they at least made them pick and choose what positions they wanted and sorted them out that way!" Nutzinger consulted Officer Sanders's page and lifted it up to see whether there was a backside he hadn't noticed. He was half right on both things: there were handwritten notes mentioning that she was open to being the head of traffic control or being the county's representative in court but not working with prisoners or anything desk-based. "Holy shit, this just got a lot more complicated! Yeah, dude, this sucks, you're on your own for this one."

"Aw, c'mon, Nutsy, help me out here!"

"I'm helping you by helping you help yourself. I told you what you gotta do, now do it. Now go on, git!" the deputy said, doing an impression of the sheriff's accent as he waved the wolf away with both hands.

Woodland got the picture that his little buddy wasn't going to be any more cooperative, so he gathered up the papers and stood to make his way out - and promptly slipped and dropped all the papers as he crashed into the ground.

"I told you not to slip on that piece of paper, you fucking idiot!" George snapped. "Your fat ass probably just dislodged all the floorboards in here!"

Ward didn't bother engaging. He just picked up all his papers, made his way out, and let his deputy get back to work.

Back in his office, the sheriff tried in earnest to read through all the applications, but he just couldn't process any of the information. His mind was in other places. So, for one thing… Officer Phillips didn't like him because he was a member of a predatory species, huh? He hadn't been joking when he said that the thought carnivores were the default and herbivores were the weird ones, that's just how he was raised - in a part of the country where the prevalent bigotry was more about where your people were from and less about what your primitive ancestors did to survive. This begged the question: had a lot of people hated him this whole time for being a wolf than he realized? Hey, he was well aware that a lot of people hated him, he wasn't blind to the side-eyes nor deaf to the jeers, but he had always chalked that up to being a lawman in this lawless town. Was there more to it than he realized? Was that one of those liberal big-city things he never did come around to understand?

The wolf picked up the horse's sheet and turned it over. Apparently Brett had stated he'd be down for any position besides a desk job, but was most interested in being a supervisor or manager for the current cops and training new ones. It was the perfect strategy: gain rapport with the other cops as their leader and launch a mild coup to replace Woodland.

Or maybe George just didn't like Brett personally and simply made something bad up about the horse to screw him out of a promotion. Either way, Ward had nothing to go on but conjecture and hearsay, so he made a note to himself to frame Phillips for something and fire him.

But that still left all the papers to sift through. The sheriff simply didn't know if he could do it. He had plenty of confidence in himself to do all the other parts of being a cop, but… this felt like school. He was never good at school, and he'd busted his ass to succeed anyway despite his limitations in this regard. Now he had to face those limitations anyway, and that made it feel like his luck had run out and this could all undo all his progress.

Because Woodland did want to be a good sheriff. He did. He had all the power and the kickbacks from the mayor and that was all nice and good, but he wanted to excel at something for once in his life. He'd come close with football in high school, but that didn't work out, and now he either had to accept that that was his only shot at greatness and that he'd blown it, or he had to find something else; he hoped this was his something else. But now he was being tasked with doing what he… y'know, the entire point of going into law enforcement was so that he'd never have to pick up a pencil again, so maybe he had to keep looking for something he could do.

...Or maybe he had to expand upon what it was he could do. Because giving up would be letting that bigoted bronco Brett win. And it would be proving all those naysayers right, his sister and her husband and their double-crossing son who'd broken his heart, his sardonic little partner and all the other cops on the force who thought he was too stupid to do his job, and especially those goddamn sons of bitches in the woods. And as long as he was on this side of the dirt, he wasn't gonna just let those people get that kind of satisfaction.

And thus he put his thinking cap on and got to work, turning all the papers over and sorting them out by what they wanted to do before he even saw any of their faces. He felt a weird adrenaline rush as he started to get a sense of everything coming together. Oh yeah, Ward, let the hatred of all your betrayers fuel you.

This inspired spurt of vigor lasted for not even five minutes before he got the call that he had other matters to attend to, the real reason he and Nutsy were told to stay at the station that day. Ward went to go inform his deputy, who could be heard singing to himself yet again.

"...Heee's saaayiiin' IIIII'M onnn a rolllllll! With AAALL the giiirls I knowww! I knowww you waaanna hiiit that, I knoww you waaanna HIT THAT, HIT THAT, AAAAAAALL the wooorld is geeetting -"

Knock knock knock.

"GODDAMMIT, WHAT!?"

The sheriff opened the door with a grin on his face. "Hiya, Nutsy! It's time!"

"Time for what, me to teach you how to add two-digit numbers!?"

Woodland's expression quickly grew disgusted. "No, seriously, Georgie, it's time for-"

"For me to hold yer fuckin' hand and help you through shit a competent adult should already know how to do!? Jesus Christ, man, how fucking lost would you be without me?"

And now Ward was simply glaring. "Nutsy… did you forget exactly why they told us ta' stick around the precinct today?"

"Yeah, to get this shit done," the squirrel replied indignantly, gesturing to his computer.

The wolf raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You're saying this like I got the answer wrong."

One more expression change: Woodland found himself chuckling. "Heh… see, Nutsy, you don't know er'rything, neither! You forgot the real reason we're inside today!"

Nutzinger squinted and shook his head. "The hell you talking about?"

"Prince John wanted us around to meet his li'l niece again! Don't you remember?" Ward giggled.

"...What?"

"See? Ya ain't always so smart yerself!" Woodland teased with a pointed finger as he made his way back out. "Just got the call that they're here, meet ya upstairs!"

"Dude, nobody told me that's why they were keeping us here today!" the deputy protested. "How am I expected to know something nobody told me!? I will not be called stupid just because everybody in this department is too goddamn stupid and negligent to tell me important shit!"

But Woodland was almost out the door. "And remember ta' watch yer mouth in front a' the lady!" were his parting words.

"Whose job was it to let me know about this!?" George demanded of the empty doorway, then got out of his seat and scurried down the desk and out the door himself. "Goddammit, Ward, was it your job, you fuck-up!?"

Upstairs, Charles was again kind of feeling like a fuck-up. Not to say he was making no effort to improve his lot in life, but after going home and burning through his book on hypnotism - which he soon discovered could have been ten pages long if it really wanted to be since it was largely padded out explaining the same concepts fifty different ways - he was starting to wonder whether this avenue wouldn't work. Because the book made one thing very clear: the first and most important step to hypnotism was to find a subject who wanted to be hypnotized. (Like, not as a sex thing, more like as a therapy thing; this narrator feels the need to clarify that because he spends too much time on the internet.)

The book was all about hypnotism from the perspective of wanting to use it to help people, like using it to plant some positive or motivating thoughts in someone's mind. Okay, that's all well and good, Hess couldn't reasonably expect a book widely available on the market to openly advocate for using its methods for abuse and manipulation, but whether it was just something they were saying to legally cover their asses or actually the bare-bones truth, the authors insisted that forcing someone into hypnosis simply wouldn't achieve good results anyway.

What was the reasoning for this? They remember being hypnotized. A big part of the practice was getting the subject to willfully hand over control of their mind; forcing someone into this state of complacency wasn't impossible, but it would be a struggle, and then they'd remember when they snapped out of it and they'd be livid with you for taking advantage of them. Similarly, even if they did consent to be hypnotized, it would be unsportsmanlike to then use the opportunity to make them do something other than what they wanted you to get them to do. You could tell somebody that you're gonna implant a bunch of instructions for how to get their life together, but if you then tell them to put ants in their pants and make them do the chicken dance, they're gonna remember that when they come to, and then they're gonna want to send you to the dentist with a dozen broken teeth. Suffice it to say that this was the one part of the book that Charles agreed warranted the excessive elaboration it got.

So now, as he awaited the mayor and his guests who would be here any moment now, the weasel had to ask himself: was using hypnotism to gain control of Prince John possible? Was it feasible? Were the two authors of the hypnotism book just saying it was impossible to effectively use hypnotism forcefully so as to make sure nobody could sue them for making a book that could be used for evil or were they just being honest that permission into one's mind was an essential element of the art?

Basically, Hess had to decide what would be worse: calling the authors' collective bluff and finding out they weren't bluffing, or not even giving it a try and admitting that this was another enormous waste of time. And the answer to that might seem obvious, he probably shouldn't jeopardize his privileged position with his boss, but he'd already showed some promise with the power of persuasion just by sloshing the lion's wine glass around (which, granted, Mayor Norman recognized was bordering on hypnotism and promptly got angry about) and for Christ's sakes, Charles had already went through the trouble of buying a pocket watch -

Diiing, donggg…

The weasel consulted the small security monitor on his desk to make sure it was who he was expecting. Uh… well, he was expecting these guys too, I guess…

Charles used his shoulder to turn the door handle, and in waltzed the sheriff with the deputy on his own shoulder.

"What's up, Chuckie?" Woodland greeted with a wave, then looked around the room. "So where's Johnny's niece at?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," said Hess, slightly less confused. "I was expecting them to arrive before you."

"So did whoever told you that they were already here get it wrong or did they just lie to you?" Nutzinger asked his boss. "Or did you get it wrong!?"

"Calm down, Nutsy, Charlie here just said he thought the same thing!" Ward chastised his deputy. "Ain't you hear nothin'?"

Charles turned and walked back to his desk. "Ah, have a seat then, I suppose, seeing as this is apparently going to be a bit." Y'know, Hess would be a lot less annoyed with Woodland calling him "Charlie" or "Chuckie" if the guy just picked one or the other and stuck with it instead of using both nicknames interchangeably.

The three all sat down in silence, having little to say to each other. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Miss -

Diiing, donggg…

"Well, then!" the weasel remarked as he saw who he saw on the camera and let them in, the cops getting up to walk over with them.

"Gentlemen!" greeted the mayor. "I was hoping to see you here all together! Lads, if I may reintroduce them, this is my brother's goddaughter Marian and her friend Annie."

"Charmed," Marian greeted with another pretend curtsy that was usually good to charm people right back.

"Nice to see you lads again," added Annie, again extending her arm for a handshake to whoever would take it. At this, Ward offered his hand just as Charles offered his foot, at which point they both saw the other and retracted.

"Uh…"

"Er…"

"Fine, if neither of you wanna shake her hand, I'll go first!" said Nutzinger, standing by himself on the floor. He offered a paw up towards the two ladies towering over him.

"Oh, I can't say I remember you!" the vixen noted with intrigue in her voice as her ewe friend squatted to return the offer.

"Oh, yeah, I'm George. Nutzinger. For, uh, for reasons I still don't fully understand myself, I'm the new deputy. A pleasure to meet ya."

"Great to meet you too, George!" said Annie.

"We call him Nutsy!" Ward cut in.

"Uh… he calls me Nutsy," Nutsy said as he shook Marian's hand. "And you might hear people calling me 'The Vulture' from time to time, but, uh, we, we kinda forgot about that character trait and haven't done anything with it recently, but who knows when it'll pop up again!"

"So what happened to the last deputy, then?" asked Kluck. "The llama gentleman."

"Oh, him?" mused the wolf. "Aw, he got fired for bein'... stupid."

"Erm… okay, then," Marian muttered awkwardly. Note that the women didn't attempt to give Ward nor Charles another chance at a handshake.

"Ah, enough niceties!" Prince John scoffed playfully. He seemed to be growing bored of the ruse himself and wanted to wrap things up. "Now that I have all of us together, I can explain what I'll be having these girls doing for work!" He turned to the fox and the sheep. "Now, ladies, last time around we had you on the books as interns, but this time I'll be giving you a more prestigious title! You two will be the assistants…" He gestured to the weasel. "...to my assistant!"

Everybody in the room gave him a funny look.

"Is… is this really enough work for three people?" Marian asked tepidly. For context, the last time they'd worked here, they'd been downstairs doing errands all around City Hall, making copies and sending faxes and filing papers and such, and they'd been anticipating more of the same, hoping for it even, because now that they saw it coming they were hoping to use the resources around the building to maybe help Robin and company out. But just being "assistants" seemed a bit odd and… a wee bit uncreative, to be honest. The girls thought that if the mayor was going to try a new arrangement, it would at the very least involve splitting them up so they never got to see each other.

"But you're right! Hence why we've decided to split the duty into two shifts. One of you will be working from five in the morning until two in the afternoon, the other from two to eleven, I have no preference who works which, you two may figure it out amongst yourselves, but if Charles has to work sunup to sundown as my personal assistant, the least he could get is a little assistance!"

The ladies' expressions grew dour quite quickly. So once again, they'd been half right.

And having been crunched for time after making the impulsive decision to recall them back to Nottingham, Prince John wasn't necessarily the most satisfied with the plan he'd come up with himself. He wanted to split them up, but he also wanted to have them somewhere someone he trusted could keep an eye on them at all times, and the only person he trusted to do that was Charles - maybe Ward, but what was John gonna do, make one of the women a cop? Other ideas he'd considered included making Woodland their full-time bodyguard or shutting the sheep up in a security office watching cameras for very inconsequential places or even having one or both of them just do housekeeping around the mansion (with someone constantly watching them), and maybe he'd revisit those ideas if he needed to change things up. But for now, this seemed like the best option: have Hiss constantly monitoring them while also keeping them separate, and hopefully overwork them while they were on the clock so they'd have no energy to help the Merry Men in their free time - assuming they still wanted to do that, which wasn't so clear after Marian's cryptic answer about her personal life. But hey, even if this plan fizzled out, maybe he could count it as another thing to trick them into underestimating him. Always looking on the bright side, him.

For posterity, Marian and Annie were also thinking about how this plan seemed at once stupid and genius, and Ward and George were both privately amazed that John had completely failed to come up with something better, but the person who was really dwelling on this was Charles. So… he'd be monitoring them from before he woke up… until after he went to bed? Well, that was… shitty. So he'd basically have no time alone with the mayor anymore, huh? He'd be stuck constantly babysitting the ladies? Hm, so perhaps the decision was made for him that he wouldn't have a chance to experiment with hypnotism on his boss.

...Unless he made a move fast. Come now, Dear Reader, you didn't think we'd wind you up on that whole hypnotism plotline just to not do anything with it, didja?

"I believe Mari and I have a few questions about that arrangement," Annie stated sternly, Marian nodding. "Such as -"

"As do I!" Hess suddenly hollered. "Erm, Mister Mayor, may I trouble you for a few minutes alone in your office?"

"Not now, Charles, the ladies asked first," the lion muttered. "So ask away, Miz Gluck -!"

"Truly, sssire - truly sir, I think it'd be best if I, their superior, understood my duties before those in my command did!"

Prince John rolled his eyes in frustration and put a paw behind the weasel's back, guiding him into his private office. "Very well, then, Charles, you'll have my audience… Boys, entertain the girls while we're away, would you please?"

"Sure!" said Nutzinger. "We just need Ward to say something stupid and we'll have hours of entertainment making fun of him!"

"Hey!" Ward protested.

Hess was nodding to himself. Depending on how long this process took, it might indeed take a suspiciously long time. "And please don't knock if it seems we're taking too long!" he tossed in before the lion shut the door behind him.

"Hiss, what the hell was that!?" Prince John snapped immediately after the latch clicked shut; he was probably speaking loudly enough to be heard through the door. "You just had to say in front of everybody that you weren't yet informed of the plan? You had to give away that we're clearly making this up as we go along? To make me look stupid!? Unprepared, even!? Or are you just too stupid to pick up on what I'm hinting at and improvise with me? And what the bloody hell was with that remark, 'don't knock if we're taking too long'!?"

Hiss took a deep breath. "I… thought the plan was to make you look foolish, sssire."

Prince John looked like he was about to throttle the little weasel. "The plan was to make me look foolish in ways I can control! Clearly we did need a moment alone if you need me to explain all this to you!"

But Charles forced himself to remain calm for the both of them. After all, this would only work if his participant was calm in mind and body. "That was a very clever idea to split the ladies apart."

And wouldn't you know it, it only took one easy compliment for that narcissistic lion to immediately mellow out by several magnitudes. "Oh… er… I-I, er, I'm glad you like it!"

"Yes, very important to recognize the power of a team." Such as their own, and such as another, third duo who the mayor should have been trying harder to break up. "You certainly have the cunning necessary to be a leader in this world."

"Oh! Why… thank you, Charles. Nice to finally have somebody recognize that other than myself - Charles, what are you doing?"

The weasel had climbed up onto the mayor's old-fashioned lounge sofa and was now reclining on it with his legs raised in the air. They did say in the books that it was best to conduct this in a quiet and comfortable room, so he might as well quietly get comfortable. "Ah, having to use my feet for everything, it's niccce to finally have a chanccce to take the weight off them." He seemed to be doing a little cycling motion. "My sssoles are oh ssso sssore…"

And the lion found himself staring at the eccentric movement, finding it to have a strange sort of… trance-like effect. "Charles, I… I would much rather you didn't sit on my couch…"

"But don't worry, sssire… it's not even as though I have my feet on the sssofa!" There was some good news that came from Hess reading that book: if you get past the part about needing permission, he was already decent at all the other steps. Now he just needed to put the pieces together, and it began with speaking ssslowly and sssoftly, followed by getting them to focus on their breathing. "Calm yourssself, mayor… take a few deep breathsss."

Prince John didn't say a word. He just breathed.

"Verrrrry gooooood…" Charles made sure his words were washing all over his subject. Now to capture his gaze on a fixed point. "Oh, have you ssseen my new pocket watch?" the weasel asked as he extracted it from his left breast pocket with his right foot. He ran his toes through its chain until it fully dangled straight over his chest. "Isssn't it a niccce watch? Let usss give it a little ssswing…"

The lion's head remained stable as his eyes swung back and forth following the little pocket watch pendulum, absolutely no discernable expression on his face.

"There… doesssn't this all feel ssso sssoothing, sssire?"

The mayor still didn't reply, but a dumb smile started materializing upon his face.

"Sssplendid…" Under ideal conditions, Prince John would be seated and Hiss would encourage him to relax every muscle in his body from head to toe, but this wasn't full-on hypnosis, now was it? This was abridged hypnosis, and Charles had no intentions of using it to force the mayor to do anything; he was just going to "remind" him of a brilliant idea "he'd" already "had".

"Are you feeling more relaxxxed now, sssire?"

"Hrmm," the lion mumbled.

Okay, Hiss wasn't entirely sure how much speaking his subject was supposed to do, but he took that as a yes. "Very good, sssire. You cccertainly dessserve to dessstresssss after coming up with sssuch a ssstupendously sssuperb idea for the sssecond desssign for the wanted sssignsss…"