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Chapter 4. There's a New Sheriff in Town

by Sheriff Brull

A metallic snapping noise permeated the silence of the new Earl's office, causing the weasel butler to look up from his sweeping. He fixed his annoyed glare towards the Earl's drinks cabinet, where a hefty rat stood with a broken handle in his paw and a look of mild surprise on his face. Realizing the servant's displeasure, the rat shrugged apologetically. "Must've pulled too hard," he offered as explanation. The butler sniffed, and averted his eyes from the uncouth rodent. Not impressed, but unwilling to tell off the Sheriff, the weasel quickly finished his sweeping of the office floor and left the room. He might be bright, the weasel admitted, but the rat simply was not meant for high society!

Sheriff Brull thought so, too, but with less disgust for the fact. At any rate, he wasn't sorry for the departure of the weasel. Any beast who dusted for a living and still thought himself better than others was a twit, in the Sheriff's humble opinion. Besides, if the cabinet's handle couldn't withstand a little tug, than it probably wasn't made very well in the first place. Brull had probably done the Earl a favour by exposing the faulty craftsmanship. Satisfied with the reasoning he had provided himself with, the rat helped himself to the Earl's alcohol collection. If the cat was going to keep him waiting, Brull figured the least his host could do was provide the good Sheriff with something to drink.

Settling on a light reddish liquid, Brull poured himself a glass and took a sip. Oh, now that was nice! Very fine drinks in this house. At least the new Earl had better taste in liquor than the old one had in decorations. A critical glance around the office revealed a strange motif involving a purple carpet, various vases, portraits of icy landscapes, and a particularly hideous stuffed bust of an eagle, of which the left eye seemed to be missing. Trying desperately to avoid focusing on the latter ornament, Brull hoped that this show of taste would not continue with the dead noble's brother. The rich seemed to have strange whims; but then, when one had power and money, who was to say they couldn't do anything they wanted?

The Sheriff ambled over to the desk near the back of the room and sat on a wooden chair, absentmindedly placing his feet atop the former piece of furniture. He had considered resting on the Earl's larger, more comfortable chair, but given that Brull had already helped himself to the cat's drinks' cabinet, he decided not to press his luck. Sipping his drink, the rat pondered how much a chair like that cost. It had nice velvet padding, and the arms had pleasing carvings on their sides. Now, Brull decided, that was something worth spending money on. Not like a silly eagle head. Had the deceased Earl even hunted? Yes, the Sheriff remembered, he had. Went out bird hunting every spring, sure he had. Never asked Brull to come along, of course, but it seemed important that the common folk know what big things the up-and-ups were doing.

Allowing his drink to perform its wonderfully warming dance as it waltzed down his throat, Brull wondered what it took to actually take down an eagle, never mind behead it and have it stuffed on your wall. One would have to be an exceptional hunter with exceptional wits, naturally; couldn't be too careful with a bird that size. Strange, thought the Sheriff, that a cat who had enough guile to kill an eagle could be snuck up on in the middle of the night and murdered. Whoever had killed him must have not raised any suspicion from the deceased...

Sheriff Brull gulped the alcohol down, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and placed the glass on the desktop. The case was solved, as far as the public was concerned. Who cared who the real murderer was?

The hinges of the office door offered the slightest creek, giving Brull enough warning to take his feet off the desk, stand up straight, and attempt to look like a competent civil servant as a young, gold furred cat strolled into the room. In a seemingly exaggerated way, the new Earl widened his eyes and smiled. "Ah, Sheriff Brull," he greeted. "I'm terribly sorry about keeping you waiting. I was merely taking care of some administrational matters. Taking over the office of my deceased brother, creating relations with other nobles, you understand."

Brull wasn't sure he did understand all the things required to be an Earl, but dutifully nodded. "Right you are, sir. I don't imagine it's easy on you, your brother dying and all that." Realizing that his attempt at being consoling had failed, the rat struggled to maintain a positive tone. "But if I might say so, sir, we couldn't be more lucky to have a successor as delightful as yourself."

Rather than annoyed, the cat seemed amused at the Sheriff's attempts at flattery. "You're laying it on a little thick, Sheriff Brull." And he capped it off with what sounded suspiciously like a condescending laugh. "Dear, oh dear," he added superfluously.

He wasn't sure why, but the laugh caused the rat to feel some sort of aggravation to grow in his throat. Shrugging it off, Brull tried to stimulate further conversation. "Everything in order, though? Sir?"

Brull couldn't help but feel jealous as the Earl slide into the coveted chair behind the desk. "Yes, yes, everything's quite in order. A few vows to uphold old relationships with a few nobles and a few heartfelt wishes of success, the usual fare when dealing with aristocrats."

That's one way of phrasing brown-nosing, thought Sheriff Brull, who rather than voicing his thoughts opted to say, "Glad to hear that everything's turning up roses."

The Earl nodded. "Yes, well, I do have give some credit to you, of course."

It wasn't often that beasts gave Brull his dues, and he was slightly aback by this admission by the Earl himself. "Is that so, sir?"

The cat nodded. "Indeed. Solving my brother's murder has put many minds at ease. There were one or two worries that this might become serial."

Standing up just a little straighter, Brull nodded graciously. "Oh, think nothing of it. No one likes having a murderer around." Who had said that? It sounded like a familiar phrase... Samson. Heh, no one liked having a murderer around, all right. "Besides, it's my job, being Sheriff and all. Can't have a bunch of lunatics running around, no sir."

The Earl nodded empathetically. "All the same, I must tell you, I'm rather pleased. I'm aware that the coinciding events of my brother dying and my taking his office are more than suspect, and I'm glad the issue was solved before too many beasts started to look at me sideways."

Whoever killed the former Earl must not have raised suspicion, or at least wouldn't cause any alarm by their presence... no proof, of course, but it was likely... "Glad to be of service, sir," Brull conceded, with genuine pleasure. Murder was only murder if you got caught. Feeling quite content with receiving praise for a job well done, the Sheriff queried, "Will that be all, sir?"

The cat shook his head. "Oh, no, I've got something I wish to discuss with you. Please, sit down. Would you care for a drink?" The Earl turned his head towards the drink cabinet, and, somewhat shocked, remarked, "Now, how did that knob break off?"

Taking advantage of the distraction, the rat hurriedly removed his hitherto unnoticed glass from the desk top and placed it under the desk after he sat down. "Hard to say. You just can't get good quality woodwork nowadays. No pride in it, that's the problem. Beasts are running around with half an idea of how to make a cabinet, and don't even bother to make sure it works."

After he had another drink in his paws, Brull was more than willing to listen to what the Earl had to say. "Now then, Sheriff Brull, what do you think about foreign relations?"

The rat thought for a moment. He desperately wanted to say something intellectual to impress his employer, but the best he could come up with was, "Well, I'm no expert on that, but I reckon it's better to have more friends than enemies."

Much to Brull's surprise, the Earl nodded in agreement. "Believe it or not, it's really as simple as that. With more friends, as you put it, the more prestige, wealth, and potentially, power, a nation will have. Under my brother, Meadowtop was fairly isolated from the rest of the world."

The Sheriff shrugged. "Well, we aren't really a nation, if you don't mind me saying so, sir. We're more of a town, really."

"All kingdoms start small, Sheriff, and they can only grow bigger if those at the helm start thinking bigger." Taking a sip of his own drink, the cat asked, "What do you know of Evnakt?"

"Sounds like a bad cough."

"Not quite. Evnara is an island in the southern sea, where a ferret named Marran Nakat created his own colony some time ago. Totally from scratch, and yet the island now stands as a successful port, city, and dare I say, kingdom." A gleam of ambition appeared in the Earl's eyes that Brull hadn't expected from the seemingly docile feline. "Just like that, a piece of rock in the middle of nowhere becomes an island of success. I may flatter my own abilities, but I hope to emulate that success here in Meadowtop."

The rat sipped his drink, thinking over this plan of action. Meadowtop become a kingdom? Somehow, Brull couldn't see that, or at least didn't understand the necessity for it to become one. Things seemed to be complicated enough as it was, never mind the problems that would result in making it bigger. Still, the Earl was the one in charge, and could do whatever he wanted. The rat couldn't help but suggest caution in doing so. "That'll take some doing, sir."

Once again, Brull was surprised by receiving the agreement of the Earl. "Right again, Sheriff Brull. It will take, as you say, quite a bit of doing. To start, we'll have to start making allies to help us on our way. Which brings back to Evnara..."

"You think they'll go for it?" Brull interrupted. "This Ev-whatever is going to want to pal around with us? No disrespect, of course, but if they're already successful at whatever it is they do, are they going to want to share the wealth?"

"Please don't interrupt me, Sheriff Brull."

It wasn't a harsh admonishment, but the rat felt jilted all the same, as if he had forgotten that one beast in the room was nobility and the other was not. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled.

"As I was saying, as unlikely as it might seem, it was Evnakt who contacted us, not the other way around. It seems that the mayor of the island had contacted my deceased brother with a request for assistance."

"Assistance for what?"

The Earl pulled a letter out of his desk and read it aloud. "The island was hit by a major storm, the letter claims, and the local authorities are having issues sorting out the chaos. Looting, anarchy, the usual fare when control is removed."

Brull shook his head in pity, though he really didn't find the will to empathize with the plight of beasts he had never met. "That's a shame, make no mistake. Bad enough when you've got trouble, but when you can't put it down yourself, that's a problem and a half, make no mistake."

"Correct, which is why the mayor, by the looks of it, was sending out pleas for aid to anyone who would listen."

The rat felt a small tightness emerge in his stomach. "We don't really have much assistance to give," he pointed out. "We ain't got an army, and any supplies we could muster might as well be used by us first."

"No, but I do have something to give to them."

Brull got tired of sipping his drink, and decided to gulp it. "What's that?" he asked as he put the glass to his lips.

"You."

Choking on a particularly strong alcohol was more than enough to cause Brull to fall out of his chair with a bad coughing fit. His mind was filled with the none-too-pleasant vision of holding back a raving mob of shipwrecked mad beasts with only himself an a few ill fed local guards. After clawing his way to become top of the heap, the rat was not keen on the idea of throwing it all away on an asinine trip to some forsaken island. "Me!?" he finally managed to cough. "Is your head on... that is, what good would I be, sir?"

Apparently unconcerned with his Sheriff's spasm, the Earl explained himself, while Brull tried to get back to his feet. "You have proven time and time again that you are more than capable of putting down trouble makers, Sheriff. Why, most of the local gangs have gone under since you took control. With you at least part of the relief to Evnakt, I'm positive that you'll make an impression."

Brull's initial reaction was to beam at this show of confidence, but his reluctance to depart from the comfort of his post to some hell-hole island was far more pressing. "But-but sir! Your honour! I mean, I'm tickled pink that you have that much faith in me, but there's only one of me, and an awful lot of them."

"One is enough, Brull. Even the slightest paw-hold in getting Evnakt back on track will give them cause to be grateful to us. And then we're on our way, Brull, on our way to greatness and fortune!"

"That might be going a bit too far, sir," Brull grumbled as he managed to stand up again.

"All journeys start with a single step, Sheriff. And you going to Evnakt might prove to be that step we need." The Earl suddenly retracted his enthusiasm, and shrugged in apparent disappointment. "But I understand if you're reluctant. After all, I suppose I'm asking an awful lot."

Relief washed over the Sheriff. Trying to act unconcerned, Brull explained himself. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, your honour, far from it. It's just that I'm working on a case even as we speak, and..."

"I'll just ask Grit to go in your place."

Grit!? That greasy excuse for a mercenary? Brull gaped in stunned awe. The Earl thought that a common sell-sword was a decent replacement for Sheriff Brull? A new image came into the rat's mind, and he found it even more disturbing and unpleasant than the first. This time, Grit stood shaking the paw of the Earl, being congratulated on a job well done, while a large crowd of nobles cheered and Brull was left standing in a corner. In comparison, to Brull's amazement, that was even more terrifying than being swamped by half mad Evnakians (Evnakers?). "On second thought," the rat added hastily, "it's a very small case. Probably will solve itself before the day's out."

The Earl smiled at the rat, obviously pleased with hitting the rat's weak spot. "Oh, good. So you'll be willing then?"

Maybe not head over heels with excitement, but willing all the same, Sheriff Brull reluctantly conceded. "I can do it all."

"And that's why I'm here."

The hare nodded, digesting the information, while Brull sat uncomfortably on a hard wooden stool in what he guessed was a basement of an abandoned building. At least, the Sheriff couldn't see or hear the sounds of the place being heavily populated, and his head had hurt from being swatted earlier that day, so he wasn't sure exactly where he had come in. "Just dropping in unexpected, wot? No transferring of supplies or any of that nonsense?"

The rat shrugged. "Like I said, mate, I'm the only beast the Earl sent. If anything, you ought to hire me. I was under the impression I was supposed to knock a few heads, anyway."

The hare actually smiled, with relative good humour. He didn't strike the Sheriff as a particularly hateful beast, or at least one that wasn't about to put the screws to Brull. "Sounds like a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dreadfully unfortunate."

Brull laughed mirthlessly. "Hate to be a bad guest, but I didn't reckon on running into you beasts at all. The letter didn't mention anything about your lot. If it had, I would've just stayed home."

That seemed logical to the hare, sparing the rat any of the patriotic rhetoric Marcion enjoyed talking about. "I might join you. Nasty business, this Evnakt thing. Street to street fighting's not my cup of tea. Bally wish I was back at home m'self." Pacing the dank stone floor, he remarked, "Don't know if I can let you go just like that. Bad form, you know, freeing prisoners without permission."

Brull had a thing or two to say about "bad form," but given that his future, and potentially his life, currently depended on this hare, the rat decided to hold his tongue. "Look, uh, sir, if this is about releasing 'one of the enemy' back into the ranks, you've got nothing to worry about. I ain't been here half a day, and in that half, I've seen more than enough of Evnakt to want to hightail it out of here. Put me on the first ship out of here and I swear, you'll never hear from at least one dirty, rotten vermin."

"Wish it were up to me, old chap," the hare said with something that at least sounded like sincerity. "But all I can do is let the fellows running this party that you're not planning an uprising or some silly notion."

Sighing with annoyance, mainly out of the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to get out of this jam just yet, the former Sheriff asked, "Can you at least fill me in on what happens to vermin-types such as myself?"

"Well, you're not an immediate danger, so we won't be knocking your block off here and now. Fighting's died down, so I don't s'pose we'll be having too many beasts calling for blood."

Execution? This was not the turn Brull had expected. "Now, hold on there, what's all this about hacking off noggins?"

The hare changed the course of the conversation with lightning speed. "For now, you'll be held with a few other detainees we've recovered. I don't know exactly what will happen, but I'll be certain to put in a good word for you."

"Wait, what do you mean, you don't know?" The rat had unintentionally let a small note of dread slip into his voice as a pair of otters appeared and, taking him by the arms, dragged him out of the basement.

"Rivertail, Creel," the hare instructed the otters, "kindly place Mr. Brull in the cell with the wolverine. It's easier to keep track of them if they're all together."

"The wolver-what!?"

The hare gave the Sheriff one final look of pity. "I really hope we'll see you again, Sheriff Brull."

In spite of this kindness, Brull couldn't help but finally lose his temper. "You're not going to be seeing much of anything once I smack you upside the head, you long eared, big nosed, posh talking..."

The otters raised their eyebrows on more than one occasion as the colorful commentary continued. Even when it was quite clear that the hare could not possibly hear what the rat was saying, Brull still contended himself with mumbling vaguely coherent threats against his captors. "Yeah, takes two of you and an army to take me down. Let me tell you something, mate, give me five seconds wtih you alone and your nose 'ill be sticking out the back of your head!"

The otter Creel winked at the rat, obviously not intimidated by his blustering. "Stow that kind of talk, mate, you'll be making me blush if you're not careful."

"'Sides," Rivertail added, "you won't be wanting to be getting on the wrong step with your bunkmate, no sir."

Brull was not impressed, insessently talking even as the door to his makeshift cell (it seemed, to the Sheriff, to be more of an overlarge storage closet). "Huh, we'll see if he's not more worried about getting on the wrong step with me! No beast pushes around Sheriff Brull and gets away with..."

Brull's attitude was abruptly changed by combination of the rat being shoved into the room, the door locking with a clicking noise, and the particularly unpleasent sight of a very large, clawed, fearsome looking, brown furred juggernaut that did not appear thrilled with it's new companion. The Sheriff stared at the monster, for monster it was, and decided that, in this day and age, force was an over-rated thing, and diplomacy was not nearly practiced enough. "Well," the rat started, a wry grin on his face, "as far as inns go, the food's not bad, but the service is terrible."

The attempt at an opening joke was met by an indestructable wall of silence.

Not feeling any better for trying, Brull gestured to the corner opposite of the wolverine. "Just gonna move on over here. Not doing anything. Just taking a sit down." Without even a head movement from the wolverine to indicate that this was an acceptable thing to do, the rat sullenly sat on the hard wooden floor and crossed his arms.

All things considered, he wished he had stayed home.