The Empress Celia not quite pouted at the prospects of the day in court. On one paw, it had gotten a bit boring, on the other, a bit frustrating. All these petty creatures and their petty concerns, and seemingly unable to fully grasp the notion that she was Empress, and her word was absolute. It seemed like every word she uttered was being questioned. Never an open challenge, but little quibbling requests for clarification or elaborations. Did she really mean that? Is that her real intention? Has she considered the consequences?
In the face of that, her councilors were wary to bring up new business that might provoke her wrath. The day's possible agenda didn't seem to be too inflammatory.
"From King Winter of Fairglade Holdings, a petition for accommodation." It was a modest thing, well within the right of a vassal lord.
The lioness scowled slightly. She remembered that old Fox, a long time friend and supporter of the Emperor. Along with her general scorn of lesser prey folk, especially foxes, that petty patch of ground hardly justified a 'king' to rule it. One of the truly ancient lands among the crazy quilt of little city states that made up the world before imperial unification.
"So what does the old Todd want?"
"He seeks some level of accommodation for beasts heretofore in his service to be afforded some limited status to again serve him and the empire."
She snapped her head around to face the courtier, a hiss cut the air. "He What?!" She stormed over to snatch the scroll from his hand. Reading it she snarled. "He claims to adhere to my dictates, then asks me to repudiate them?" She crushed the document in her clawed paw. "Was my declaration vague? Ambiguous? Somehow confusing in the wording? Were there any mention of exceptions, of 'accommodations'?"
"No. Of course not, Your Highness." though keeping his head down, eyes averted, the courtier continued, "He does, however, have the authority to petition, as a Sovereign in his own lands. And it does go on that he will fully abide by whatever decision you make."
"Curse those petty lordlings and their puffed up 'sovereignty'. They are mine. They exist only because I allow them to."
She stalked over to the great map and considered a moment. Then, "I need Fairglade reduced. Send word to Reed March and Greyspur. They are to march into Fairglade, under my banner, and have-at whatever they find for their trouble. What's left will revert to direct imperial ownership."
"Your Highness, what about the King?"
"Let him stew a bit, then I'll have his audience at court."
She considered a moment. "I need a new proclamation. I want the Empire to know that my word is unquestionable law. Written in little words, short sentences. I will not be challenged, questioned, second-guessed by squirmy little beasts, nibbling at my words, trying to undo my will. Get me a draft by the time I see the King."
It was well into the afternoon before King Daffit Winter, Lord of Fairglade, and his party made their entrance in the great court of the Empire. The particular time of day, with the attendance bored or even napping after the midday meals and entertainments, was not lost on anyone. And that it was assumed this was merely a minor pro forma audience didn't stir much interest. However, seeing who was included in his party did make many take notice.
The Empress had been feigning disinterest in the announcement of entry, not bothering to even glance at the party before they were before her throne. Then she did.
"What is THAT doing here?" She roared, leaping up off her throne and raging forward to grab the offending Rabbit at the Fox King's side, her claws digging into his neck as she held him aloft. She turned to the King. "You come here attempting to challenge my order on these - creatures - and have the gall to have one walk bold as brass to My Throne!"
King Winter saluted his Empress before addressing her, then proceeded as though nothing had happened. "Your Highness, I brought the one who had been my Hand, who had served me with unswerving loyalty for several good years. Per your declaration, I would not intend to restore that which had been removed. Rather, I seek an acceptable alternate status, that would allow him to provide some level of continued service to me and to the Empire."
Celia looked at the Rabbit, though wheezing in her grasp, had made no effort to struggle and, if anything, was attempting to maintain a level of disciplined poise despite his condition. "How can you serve the Empire, serve Me, you little thing?" She taunted.
"As best Brain and Limb may, your Highness." He managed to croak, paraphrasing a line from the Oath of Fealty. His countenance was pinched in pain, but there was no fear in view or scent.
"NO!" And the Lioness flung the Rabbit down, though with a cruel twist of her clawed paw that slashed his throat. "It was no when I first issued my proclamation and it is still and forever no now!"
The King chanced only the slightest glimpse of his dying aide, seeing not pain or fear, but only regret at the failure of his part of the mission. "I apologize, your Highness, only now seeing the full extent of your will." He dared not look around him, the reaction of the court, though could hear the whimper of Meister Long's Scribe at the sudden sight of blood in such an august setting.
"My Will! I thought my will was plain enough then. But I'm beset with question, doubts, challenges - to - My - Will!" She loomed over the smaller beast. "Especially from little lordlings like you! That you rule at all is by my sufferance and at my whim you don't."
"As is your right as Empress, your Highness, and our duty to obey."
That the little beast was showing neither anger nor fear, only a stern courtly discipline only infuriated her all the more. She turned and began up the dais to her throne, then stopped, and not bothering to look back, commanded, "Take them away!"
A Captain paused by her for more discreet instructions and she whispered, "Take them to the plague cells, chained, and keep all away from them until I see to them later."
She returned to her throne, noticing with some satisfaction the look of shock in the collected courtiers. Maybe now they will take her more seriously.
A server approached, indicating how he should deal with the dead rabbit.
"Leave it for now." And her nostrils flared with the fine stink of blood.
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"Despite our exclusion from the capital, I'm finding this duty more than acceptable." Announced one of the pike-mammals as he raised a pint to the collected formation of troops. They were all partaking in a little end of day refreshment. While waiting for the return of their King, they were content to light drill and sparring as guests of the local Imperial garrison. At the moment they were largely stripped down to under tunics and the like to air out and relax.
"And a gratefully hoisted pint to our hosts!" Cheered another, seeing several Imperial guardsmammals approaching. The salute was not returned, and their countenance was unreadable. Though not in full armor, they did have swords on their belts and some segments and breastplates, perhaps a last minute spar before the light got too low?
The Captain of the King's formation rose, sensing something was amiss. "Gentlemammals?"
As one, the Imperials drew their sword, sharp steel rather than practice blades. "You're to surrender yourselves to Imperial orders. Do not attempt to resist."
The troops looked to each other in confusion. This couldn't be some kind of prank? The Imperials were notorious for their traditions of hazing provincial troops. They were already in any practical sense under Imperial authority. But none of the guards were smiling. The leader glanced back over his shoulder, and in following his eyes, the Captain saw the archers on the walls overlooking the courtyard. Fearing what was coming, he turned back to his troops, "Fellows, it's been - " And was cut off by the barrage of arrows.
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Any formation of troops in full gear was a remarkable sight, especially to simple folk more used to local merchant traffic on the common road. These soldiers in the colors of Greyspur, marching under the Imperial banner, must be going to some kind of special event in the Capital. Any folk who could afford to stop in their labor did so, kits waved, and a few snatched up flowers to offer to the big, handsome males. As they approached the village, there were commands made and a section of soldiers broke off from the column. Then, without warning, they drew swords and fell upon anyone within reach. Many folk fell, a few fled and the soldiers made no great effort to pursue. They then went through the various buildings, it was very much a small farming village, cottages and only a trading post cum public house for anything like business, and everything was ransacked. Fires began as the troops double-timed to the formation, waving some minor spoils to share with their comrades.
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It was the ringing of alarm bells that alerted Skye to the crisis and she sought out the inner court and her family. There, several of the family and various others seeking instruction were collecting. Her eldest Brother, the Prince, was in heated discussion with some guards and runners off to the side and everyone was on edge in anticipation of what that might mean. Finally, He broke away and addressed the room.
"I've received word from reliable sources that we are now under some manner of attack. Troops in the colors of Reed March and Greyspur, under the Imperial banner, have entered our territory and seem to be indiscriminately attacking and plundering everything in their path."
There was a wave of shock and outrage from the collected mammals at that, and it took a moment for the Prince to wave enough of them down to continue.
"As they march for the Empress, we can only assume that our Lord's mission has somehow enraged her and she now punishes the whole of Fairglade for it." The crowd was hushed by that consideration. "And that means any resistance by arms could be considered some fashion of treason or revolt. However, we cannot allow our fellow mammals to be simply slaughtered, and I will call upon only volunteers who would risk the brand of outlaw to help defend our own and provide a rear guard."
"But where will we go?" Was now the common cry.
'Perhaps to the North, skirting Greyspur lands. The King of the North seems to be in a kind of open revolt, and there is simply the Wilds as well." The Prince looked doubtful, but clearly didn't have any better suggestion.
"What about House Hopps and the 'Burrows?"
"It's a long way off and there may be unfriendly folk in the way. And they may not be receptive to the predators among us even if one could get there. There may be some small welcome in other lands. That Reed March would turn on us..." The Prince shook his head. "There may yet be some good will in the population, we have long kinship, even if the crown has gone to cruel obedience to the Empress."
" I will go and attempt to treat with them, see if there are terms for the sake of our folk. But I don't have great hope in that. But it may buy time for the rest of you. So you must be prepared to fly, yet see to it that we do not abandon anyone to the depredations of the invaders."
Skye was thunderstruck. Beyond the immediate threat, she knew that her poor Jack was certainly dead, her Father likely as well. She wandered off in a daze, only to find herself up in the tower of the old keep, the small, fortified core of that was more a residential palace than royal fortress. Why was she there? Not for some silly love-struck gesture like out of those childish maiden's tales of swooning passions and all that rot.
She looked out over the lands of her home, and could see a smudge of smoke on the horizon. Then looking down, saw the swarm of fearful folk trying to sort out the possessions of a lifetime into what they could carry on their back or in some small pushcart. The streets were already cluttered with the discards, furniture, bedding, and random objects.
She went back to her quarters. There was little that could be practically carried. A few travel clothes, a couple purses of small coinage, gold was too much for the routine expenses she was likely to face, though she also had some secreted away for special need. She'd go down to the larder for some travel food later. Then she brought out her prized possessions, a small sword, of maker steel, given to her by her Father, along with the instruction to make fair use of it. Then, a more covert weapon, an assassin's needle, made of a more exotic maker metal, a rather intimidating tool that her Jack had given to her.
She shook her head at the memory. Why would he have such a terrible and unique weapon? True, she did not know of the full extent of his service to her Father the King, but he had claimed that, as he had then become the King's Hand, he did not need it anymore.
Then what to do? Hardly slink off as some anonymous mammal. Likely oversee a party of refugees. She could represent Family Winter to any who still held it in regard.
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King Arctus XVII, Master of Greyspur, cheered on his party of Lords. "Come now, my scouts have found us some small sport." The collection of beasts looked like they were out on a picnic, the several carts of provisions and retinue of servers certainly supported the image. But the distant smoke of burning villages, some of which had been torched by the members to get a little direct taste of the mayhem that was sweeping across the land, suggested a much darker game.
A guide signaled pause just short of a grassy ridge, then trotted back to report. "My King, there's a column of mammals, I believe they may include the Winter household. Have a couple of guards, but many females and kits, and very mixed, a lot of prey there."
"Predators mingling with prey, and in the service of that traitor of a king." The King sneered. He flexed his paws, his claws sharpened and lacquered, black with a thin line of silver to enhance the highlight. He was big for a common black bear, towering over the lesser predators, mostly great cats, who accompanied him. "Clearly they deserve their fate as our afternoon's entertainment."
Arctus XVII had not bothered to head his army, especially as it had scattered into smaller units to better sweep the countryside. Letting the forces of that old Cat take the capitol was fine with him. Word was that there was now some resistance and the effort was going to cost him. The suddenness of the attacks had precluded Winter from properly rallying their forces into a full army. That left his beasts to pick off the fleeing inhabitances at their leisure.
He approached the crest, and was delighted with what he saw, a goodly crowd, and open ground well beyond. Plenty of opportunity to chase down runners. Or a little archery practice. He waved the rest forward and indicated that they come over in unison, dramatic effect and all.
The crowd below saw them quickly enough and, as expected, a few were running, but the bulk bunched up to something akin to a battle line, using the collection of small carts at a barrier. But aside from a couple or three pike beasts, there seemed to be only staffs and a few knives in the bunch.
"My friends, let's be off!" He signaled and most sauntered forward. Their goal wasn't going to get very far so they need not exert themselves too much too soon. A couple more excited lords charged ahead, keen on giving chase to anyone so driven to attempt escape.
The King watched in private amusement as those more impetuous fellows come to bad ends with sling bullets before they could get too close. He looked to his guest to see them prepare for some combat. Several of the lords had brought shields that they were now unslinging for use or at least a level of armor to protect them, and their numbers would divide any defense.
"Looks like we'll have some spice after all, M'Lord."
And so it seemed. But the King was hardly worried. Some small losses were to be expected in any blood sport. The rest of his party seemed hardly moved by the loss of their fellow lords, if anything it piqued their zeal for the action ahead. Then, as he was surveying the mood of his party, he caught sight of another body of mammals.
"Who is that?" He pointed to one of his underlings, who indicated he'd take a closer look. They held no colors though looked like a small company of soldiers, perhaps. A few noticed their King pausing and too stopped and looked. As the mystery mammals approached, it became clear that they were well armed, and had a mix of species, including prey.
"They must be Winter's troops!" One of the lords gasped. "An outlaying force, come to defend..." And at that, the King's party looked around in alarm. They were over-matched in number, and too many were over-fed courtiers, the few veterans now grey muzzles or worse. Running was not an option. And attempting to seize the refugees as hostages seemed doubtful, as they had already demonstrated an unexpected level of resistance. Given the circumstance, simple surrender also seemed questionable.
"We'll take down what we can, Lords of Greyspur!" Roared the King in defiance, though he knew his status might yet insure his personal survival even in the end.
The action was short and savage. The Fairglade troops were driven by outrage and afforded no respect for class or condition of any who wore the colors of their despoilers. It was only the last little knot of the enemy, all bloodied, but not yet fallen, did they finally give pause. And in that, the King yielded, as did those few at his side. There was some debate in the ranks whether to honor the surrender, as the invaders had not shown any mercy to their kin.
Then a royal command brought their attention. It was the slight form of the Princess Skye. Though in common travel garb, her bright white countenance shown forth and drew the attention of all.
"King Arctus. I knew you never held us in high esteem, but this..." She waved her arm to the ruined lands around them.
"By order of our Empress. Your Father was denounced as outlaw and all you have is forfeit."
The little Vixen scowled at that news. "But this." pointing at the remains of his company. "Some kind of perverse hunting party?"
"Her instructions gave us license..."
Skye restrained herself, then through clenched teeth, "What were her orders, exactly? The words."
"As best I can recall, that Fairglade was to be reduced, and what remained to revert to the Empire directly."
"Reduced? Just that?" Such would mean he was free to do anything, anything at all. "You seem all too keen on that full exercise."
"As our Empress commands."
Princess Skye turned to her troops, "Take all their weapons and armor, then leave them." She walked back to the refugee column and rested her head against one of the carts.
Seeing her distress, one of the erstwhile household staff came to her. "Are you well, M'Lady?"
Skye looked up to the earnest eyes of concern. "Lady no more. The Empress has damned my House as outlaw. But it does nothing for my responsibilities to you and yours."
"Bless you, M'Lady. Outlaw it is then?" The cow looked over to the cluster of nobles sprawled up slope. "So it doesn't matter what we might do..." And she looked to the others who had been in such deadly jeopardy only moments before. Without a word the crowd took up implements.
Skye knew what was going to happen next, as she had made sure the nobles, the King in particular, would be unarmed, but she didn't want to witness any of it. Instead, she sought out the several kits who had run off with the initial appearance of the hunting party and were reluctant to return too soon. They recognized her, she'd made a point to familiarize herself to the household staff and their families, and they came to her in relief. Fortunately, collecting them all was going to take some time, and she was keen on not having them return too soon. There was bad business that they didn't need to see beyond the carts.
When it was all done and the column reassembled, now with a substantial armed escort, Skye then had time to consider her situation. Clearly she could no longer be the younger princess of Fairglade. Any who knowingly offered her sanctuary would suffer the wraith of the Empire. But she was a clever little vixen and she would think of something.
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The plague cells were the most isolated in the old keep of the Imperial Palace, intended to contain those special prisoners who might also be sources of contagion. While more common diseases and the common criminals who carried them were kept in a special lock-up well out of the capital, there were more eldritch maladies and notorious villains that needed to be kept closer.
Daffit Winter, very likely the former king, considered his condition as he heard activity outside his cell. Naked, chained to a wall, he had not had any attention in - it must be some days now, if his parched throat and general discomfort was any indication. He had largely assumed he was simply going to be left to die, thirst was not the worst way to go, but would take some little time.
And someone with a light at the door. Though just a small lamp, it was still a bit dazzling after so long in complete darkness. It was a guard, armored and armed, and he drew some small satisfaction in that. And the Empress, with more guards behind.
"My apologies, your Highness, that I cannot better salute you at this moment." he was able to wrasp faintly, and gave his chains a small jingle.
"Still the sly jester? Even here?"
"Hardly, your Highness. Merely maintaining the proper forms as best I can."
"Yes. Your performance was impressive. Every step the epitome of proper procedure. And I, of course, played my part. Breaking traditions and the norms of courtly conduct. But none of that matters. I am the Empress, and as I have been more forcefully reminding all, my will is now and forever law. Precedents of the old order be damned."
"As is your right, your Highness." But the fox knew that it was the precedents, the traditions, the old and well-established laws that kept order and obedience, kept the contract of fealty between Empress and all those that made up the Empire. There had been tyrants before, and they had sown the seed of their own downfall by ignoring such.
"I suppose it is needless to say that I've stripped you of all title? And that the holdings once known as Fairglade are no more as is all of House Winter."
Daffit sighed, "Seems a bit excessive, Your Highness. Though I assume it was done as a demonstration of your resolve in the matter?"
"You don't seem moved, so might I expect for such loveless creatures."
"As a practical matter, I'm too thirsty for tears, your Highness. And it is too late for anything but tears for the rest of it." Then Daffit remembered. "Meister Long and his Scribe. I assume they are similarly engaged." With another little jingle of chains. "I would hope they might be set free. They are in service to the Empire and were only on loan, so to speak, to me."
"Why would you care what happens to them? They are no kin nor claim of yours?"
"They are honest mammals, your Highness. As king, they served me and my rule well. Provided well-considered council, and were good company. As a practical matter the Empire would suffer for their loss. And I would regret that they might suffer by my association."
"I can see your affection, as they are of tooth and claw like us all. But what of that rabbit? How could you cope with such things as anything but the lowest little animals?"
"For all the same reasons, your Highness. I valued his service for its own sake, not for how he made his dinner. Don't you still have Master Bogo in your council still?" Daffit had known the great buffalo for some time and regretted what he then did. "He is a credit to his race and a valuable asset to you or any ruler." And in so saying so, likely spelled his doom. But his loss would further hamper the foolish Lioness. He watched in secret dismay as her countenance bespoke her future intent.
Then, "Your Highness, may I request my final disposition?"
Celia sniffed, then, "What might you have in mind?"
"Well, your Highness, if it were a more public execution, beheading would be the fashion, for pike topping and the like. But I have a feeling that isn't going to be the case?"
"No, you'll simply disappear, maybe with the rumor that you got away, slunk out like the lowly beast you are to cower the last of your days."
The former king knew that would not be a credible tale for anyone who actually knew his character. Or hers.
"Ah, yes, your Highness. I'm relieved at that, ever so slightly. Never liked the notion of beheadings, a nasty business to consider experiencing. For that matter, the quick cut throat isn't much better. All that being said, could I request an honest sharp thrust to the heart? I know it is a petty detail, your Highness, but short of a glorious death in battle, it seems a less ignoble end, eh?"
Celia cocked her head. The nasty little beast meant it. As much as she had considered all manner of bad ends for him, simply getting it over with had it's own appeal. Besides, any further investment in him would imply some greater value or import.
She nodded to a guardsmammal. "See to it. And inquire as to the favored disposal of the other two. Then make sure their bodies are never found."
Daffit grimaced at the notion that the poor bear and cheetah would not survive, then glanced at the approaching guardmammal, a wolf. "Do it right, lad." Said with a little nod and wink.