Fogeys Zann's Alley/Backyard A Changing of the Guard

[Talinn Ryalor]

The new Minister of Justice sat at his new, polished dark oak desk in the refurbished office of his position in Zann’s Backyard, the paperwork already stacked high across it. It was a very bare, functional office, as he had found Grayson’s lavishness distasteful and needed to set a new tone for the entire force. Glancing at the latest one, he broke open its strange, purple seal, and began to read. After a short while, a rare, if bitter, chuckle escaped his lips as stood up and cast it into the roaring fireplace in his office. In the small amount of time it was still legible before it was burned, the universe might have one last glimpse at its contents.

Dear Sessho,

It is with regret that I inform you that we cannot support the restoration of Kōtei seiji at this time, as all the candidates that you have provided are either, by your own admission, missing, or by your actions as tōshu swearing allegiance to that foreign “Jotei” as if you and I could pretend for a moment that a vixen could be suitable of holding any throne, let alone the Jade one, unsuitable. Furthermore, the fact that the Kōtaigō herself not only remarried, but irreparably soiled her honor and that of your entire household own by not only doing such, but by doing so to drunken lowly pirate scum dragged out of some Kitsune-forsaken hedge and rutting with him like some sow in heat to create multiple shoshi is completely unacceptable and a further stain on whatever threadbare respect that House Ryalor may have ever had. If you wish to even have a shred of hope of returning to the mainland, it would be best for you to find the true heirs, step down from your position and hand it over to one of them, and then personally execute the Inran Kōtaigō and her Yūkaku no Inu she pretends is her spouse. Then, maybe, we can talk..

-Daimyo of Yuki No Kaigan, Vyacheslavas Ivanovas

“Well now, Lord Ivanovas...I think I have an idea for a future mission for the BlackShip. After all, I am sure Tanya and Jeshal will be delighted to talk to you personally about your wonderful description of them once informed, and if that is not enough of an incentive, certainly be interested in the large amount of gold, silver, and jewels that your province produces. I think Anastasia, too, would very much like to speak with you on her ideas of whether or not a Jotei is suitable...” Talinn murmured darkly as he straightened the collar of his new uniform. Once he was satisfied, he turned and looked at himself in the mirror.

He was happy with it, being already familiar to him as Alexei had designed it all those years ago modeled in some part off the old Stoatorian Guard uniform and he was accustomed to both that and Imperial dress in general now after all these years. A long, straight gray dress uniform, with gold at the fringes, and black military boots. He himself had added to that a long greatcoat, in a similar fashion, with three pins on either side attached to it-three gold batons on the left, and three gold batons on the right, to signify his highest authority. He then glanced over to the window on his office, a small table having a rather unusual and rare bust on it. It was that, surprisingly, of Anithias Freedom, found in some back office at the Mayoral residence at his personal request, and deliberately angled toward Big Val, so that he was looking up at it. Talinn smiled bitterly and walked over to it, putting a paw on its head as he whispered bitterly.

“That’s right, you bastard. You sit there and look far up her from down here, for she was a better beast than you ever were. You will be doing so for as long as I maintain this position and do a finer job than you could even dream of. And furthermore, one way or the other, I will show your kits just how much of an unscrupulous coward you were."

Quietly, he walked back to his desk, and sat down on the plain, hard wooden chair without any frills. It was not comfortable-but it was not supposed to be, just like the Empress’s Throne in Amarone. It was a physical reminder to never think oneself totally secure in a position of power.

Briefly, there was a rap at his door, and one of his new aides, a young stoatess whose name had escaped him in all the chaos, opened it slightly.

“Sir, there is a Sergeant Samuel Vim...err, sorry sir, a Sergeant Samuel Grimes here to see you. As part of your new ‘open door’ policy. Should I send him in now or…?”

“By all means.” Talinn replied brusquely, leaning back for a moment before clearing some paperwork off to the side and sitting back down, this time more at attention. A Sergeant with the gumption to come up to the new Minister of Justice...now this should be interesting-far more than the reports, anyway.

@Jeshal the Ironclaw (For Grimes) and open to any potential interested Fogeys. @Callisto Bluemoon just tagged for how some of the more conservative factions in Fyador might view her personally and the Ryalors in general.

 

[Samuel Grimes]

To say Grimes didn't know how to feel about the new Minister of Justice was an understatement. Grayson had been incompetent and focused on the upper classes. He had failed to curb the uprisings of the supremacist movement, although how much of that was truly the ex-minister's fault remained to be seen. Grayson was a victim of politics and the truth would probably die with his career. Ryalor at least gave the impression of wanting change.

Unfortunately, that also came with a price. A label of traitor. The implementation of so many Fyadoran customs, most of which Grimes did not care for, but some of his peers did and he wasn't going to begrudge it. Too much. Grimes wanted to judge Ryalor for himself, not by rumour or hearsay, not by society. Although, sometimes, once in a blue moon, society got it right.

"That's Captain Grimes," he could be heard muttering out in the hall to the aide. "Captain." Apparently the signed papers had not found their way to the ministry yet. Slups precincts were, after all, more liable to have their communications relegated to the bottom of the pile. For all he knew, someone at the Poste had used his reports for gull nests... or the lavatory.

Precinct 13's newest squad captain walked into the minister's office and stood in a manner that was formal if not quite to attention.

"Thank you for your time, minister. Captain Grimes, recently transferred to Precinct 13. With permission, I wanted to ensure this was all made official."

His gaze caught the triple gold batons on Ryalor's coat and one of his fists tightened nigh imperceptibly at his side. Throughout his time as a Fogey, the triple gold had been reserved only for the Emperor. How highly did this fox see himself? As a thing to notice, it was not a great start.​

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn’s ears flicked ever so momentarily as he noted the discrepancy between how Grimes was introduced and how Grimes introduced himself, a subtle indication of the irritation that had been building up with him ever since his appointment in Amarone-among other dealings there. Once again, he was paying the price for the incompetence-and stupidity-of others, and now he could not simply brush it all under the rug as Minister of Justice as he had been able to do as Minister of Innovation. If something went wrong on Magh, it was relatively easy to make sure it stayed there. If something went wrong here at the Ministry, you got what happened at the Opera House.

I do not like the game that is being played here with me, I was supposed to stay in the shadows and work towards integrating Westisle and...other...things as per our agreement. Now I, and my family, feel like a piece on her chessboard, and I do not know whether I am but another pawn or something more important.

“It seems Stella was not informed of your promotion, Captain Grimes, allow me to apologize on her behalf.” His voice was just loud enough to be heard across the room and into the antechamber, where a flustered Stella accidentally knocked over a stack of papers as she realized that she had indirectly forced her boss, the Minister of Justice himself, to have to cover for her mistake in not doing a thorough enough background check on his visitor, to a subordinate no less, before the door closed.

“It is, Captain. Former Minister Grayson was a beast who liked to keep the nobility informed of his…” he tapped his right paw on the desk for a long moment “...progress in addressing their concerns. It seems that in his enthusiasm for doing so, a number of matters were allowed to drift, such as the formal recognition of your promotion. I have been correcting such...oversights...as they have come up in my first month as Minister. ” He gestured to the large stacks of paperwork piled up around him, seeming almost as if they were to swallow him whole.

He studied the Captain for a few moments, and, being a beast well-seasoned in command and administration, did indeed notice the slightly clenched fist. He thought for a few moments about what might have triggered such a response from when the stoat had entered the room-it seemed to have happened after he had a chance to look at him more closely, not before. He was sure that he had dressed himself properly-that was one of his points of pride-so there had to be...ah.

The triple gold batons, that must be it. Reserved for his or her Majesty alone, although until now, never worn. I can see why he has some consternation.

“Sit, Captain Grimes,” he said, gesturing to one of the comfortable, upholstered oak chairs stuffed with gull feathers across his desk for visitors-a sharp contrast with his own decidedly uncomfortable one. A way to put his subordinates-and opponents-at physical ease while he retained his own sharpness “we do have a fair amount to discuss, as it happens."

As the Captain eased himself into the chair, Talinn deliberately reached down to the sigil of his office affixed to his chest, and spoke, voice thoughtful, yet firm, as he touched it. “Similar to yours, it seems, if with one more bar and made of a more precious metal, but the duty remains the same. We act not on our own authority, but everything that we do while wearing these, the laws we enforce, flow from Her will and that alone. We are merely her paws-She is the one who directs us.”

He paused, hoping that he had reassured Grimes that while he was above him in rank, they both had the same master, and that he did not seek to rise above his station.

He continued, more matter of factly and quietly, “These triple batons...Her Majesty had many candidates with which to give these to, but picked me. She placed me here because she believes I can rise to the challenge of what is required. I intend to prove her right, and that is my only ambition.”

While wearing these, at any rate.

Placing his paws back over each other, he gave Grimes a rather respectful nod, something he suspected the stoat was not expecting. He knew his reputation, after all.

“I am aware that my manner does not always put beasts at ease, but, you may speak plainly with me, Captain, without fear of repercussion.”

He let those words hang, preferring to let the stoat bring up whatever it is that he wanted to first, before pressing him on others matters.

@Jeshal the Ironclaw

 

[Samuel Grimes]

Quite quickly Grimes regretted that he had allowed his grumblings to be heard, not so much because he hadn’t wanted them to be, but he didn’t want Stella to be shamed over the error that might not even have been originally hers in the first place. He made a mental note to check in with her later. Minister Ryalor was at least informative as to the backlog of paperwork. Perhaps he would prove to turn matters around by getting things done. Not that Grimes liked paperwork. At all. He recognised the importance of it, however, and how incredibly useful it could be ranging from diplomatic weapon to alternative loo paper (nothing ministry-related of course).

He took a seat as soon as it was offered. It felt very strange on his backside, far more pillowy than the chairs to which he was accustomed. The alarming thought occurred that it might pop beneath him and make some embarrassing noise. He’d done that with stockings of jelly when he was a kit.

Grimes forced himself to remain stoic when Talinn explained the batons. He wondered if others had made complaint if he was so quickly aware of what might have bothered him. The commentary on Amélie was far more discomfiting. Her will alone. The one who directs us. That’s entirely the issue. It seemed she was the issue regarding the batons, too.

The invitation to speak still felt like a trap to a beast like Grimes, however well intentioned it might turn out to be. He did not let it stop him.

“Thank you, sir. Plainly as it is, it is the connection to her Imperial Majesty that I would like to address. I mean no offence or disrespect to her position. Something that has bothered me, dating back to Koslov's manual, is the part in the Fogey code whereby our loyalty and service is absolute to the Empress. With respect sir, we are not her personal guard or her army. Our duty should be to protect her citizens, for our service to be to protect the people. The fact we don't uphold this has left room for incompetence and corruption. If we're not feared, sir, we're laughable. Sir."​

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

The Minister of Justice was very quiet for a moment after Captain Grimes spoke, then abruptly, and surprisingly quickly for a beast of his age and his new disability, grabbed his cane and began to make his way towards the office door, signaling for Grimes to remain exactly where he was. Opening the door, he glanced about it, but only saw Stella still trying to pick up some papers.

“Stella, you can go home now, this will be the last business of the day.”

“B-but sir, the papers-!” She began to protest, gesturing to all of the reports scattered on the ground nervously.

Talinn simply stared at her for a moment.

“Sir, sorry sir...I’ll pack up my things.” She looked as if she were about to cry. Talinn repressed a sigh.

“Stella, you are not in trouble, you still have your job, you can pick up the papers when you come in tomorrow. I realized I was a bit harsh with you earlier, so this is your reward. Take the extra time to do something you enjoy."

The stoatess, flushing with embarrassment, but also with pleasant surprise, nodded.

“Ah, yes, sir, thank you sir!” She managed, before giving him a slight bow, collecting her things, then opening the exterior door to the hallway, where two Fogeys stood at attention, ready to be commanded.

“Whatever it is, I am not to be disturbed until my meeting with Captain Grimes is complete. Is that understood? They may come back again tomorrow.”

“Sir, yes sir!"

Talinn then closed the door as the stoatmaid hurried down the hall to make the most of her free time, and locked it. He proceeded to then go to the interior door, which he also similarly locked. Then, finally, he closed the drapes on the windows in the office, leaving only the lamps and fireplace lights to illuminate the room, before he carefully made his way back to his seat, and sat down. Although his wife now held his former position in Misanthropy, his instincts, some would say paranoia, were still just as sharp.

“Captain Grimes…” Talinn began carefully, voice very, very low, almost his whisper, as his paw tapped on the desk as if to further obfuscate what he could be saying to any potential listeners beyond the two of them. “That is a dangerous way to phrase a reasonable thought. Have you said that to anyone other than me?”

@Samuel Grimes

 

[Samuel Grimes]

The speed at which the minister moved had Grimes tense, thoughts running toward using the bust of Freedom to, well, gain his own. It deserved throwing out of a window anyway. He found himself further unsettled by the comments made to Stella, beginning to wonder if he hadn’t fallen back into that dream he once had where everyone anticipated the thoughts right out of his head and the world pivoted around him, scrambling to conform to any complaint he might have about it, and back that up by randomly advertising fishsticks and noodles to him at awkward moments in conversation.

If he wasn’t already on edge, Talinn started locking everything down. It felt like he was about to be drawn in on a conspiracy or, far more likely, murdered. A faint frown touched Grimes’ brow at the implication he had phrased things without care. Fortunately, it was how his face looked anyway.

If that was a dangerous way, you’ll want to arrest eighty percent of the harbour. Or half the Bilge every weekend.

He stared back at the Minister of Justice, consoling himself that the softness to the fox’s tone hinted that he might not end up a fugitive. Still, it was worth testing the waters.

“Is this the part where I foolishly say ‘no, sir, not a soul’ and I conveniently disappear? I should warn you it’s not an unpopular sentiment among common beasts. Particularly those who have joined the Imperium from other shores and cultures.”​

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn shook his head at Grimes, then sat back to think about how best to explain things to him.

“No, Captain Grimes, that is not the part that I am expecting you to play, although it would of course be nice to hear you have not shared those sentiments, in that particular way, widely. It would save me some headaches. Still, before now, I doubt you would have been considered of a senior enough rank to warrant...further observation, and even if you did, I am sure that I could correct the record.”

His voice was matter-of-fact, rather than condescending, and he spoke as if he knew this from experience. Which, in fact, he did as Minister of Misanthropy. The moment you became a beast of at least some importance, Misanthropy kept a file on you, and Dusk was even more thorough than he had been.

The price of such a correction would be a nice, new dress for Dusk...hopefully you did not say anything, or I am out at least five hundred gilders of my own personal money since that damn wolverine is going to scrutinize every little purchase I make with Ministry money and I would rather not end up where Grayson is going. Still, that is not a bad price to pay, for a loyal and competent beast. If I can turn him to my side.

He scratched his chin for a moment, then nodded at Grimes.

“You seem like a smart enough beast, so forgive me for the crude metaphor, but this will help you understand the position the Imperium is in. Of course, I will expect you to remain silent about what you have learned.”

At that, Talinn went and collected five legal books from his desk drawers, and began to set them up in front of Grimes. When he was done, there were five, three arranged vertically at the bottom, one laid horizontally across the top of those three, and one balanced precariously at the top. He then took out a sixth book and placed it at his side.

“At the top is the Imperium. At the center are our Ministries and Her Majesty. And at the bottom…” he pointed to the far right one first. “The nobility and the old rich” the second “the merchant class, the scholars, the technocrats as it were, and some might say the middle class” and finally to the far left “the majority of the people.”

He sat back and looked at Grimes for a moment, then spoke.

“These are the pillars on which our Imperium rests.”

Then, he reached out to the far left and right of the arrangement, pulling the books out quickly. The entire arrangement soon quickly collapsed.

“The ‘Lord-Protector’ Brudenell’s administration. He sought to run the Imperium like a business, run by the merchants, scholars, and those you might call technocrats. He claimed he was ‘protecting the people’, as you said. And how did that end? Civil war.”

He then rearranged the arrangement, then took out the middle and left books, predictably, they, too collapsed.

“The monarchists opposing the Empress. They sought to go back to the old ways, where only the views of the rich and powerful mattered, and justice only served them. They, too, claimed to be ‘protecting the people’, as only beasts trained in the art of ruling and with means should do so. And how did that end? Civil War.”

Rearranging it again, this time he seemed a bit more thoughtful and took a little bit longer, before taking out a soft-backed book from the his desk, and slid it into place of where the Ministries were. The structure held for a bit longer than the other two examples, but still, in the end, collapsed, as the soft book could simply not support the weight.

“Burnetism, or, as one might say, republicanism, that tries to balance the three. And, for a time, it even managed to do so. But it proved too soft in the end to be stable, too untested. And indeed, perhaps out of all the examples I have showed you and will show you, he truly thought what he was doing was ‘protecting the people.’, as you put it, and he did not even need a monarch or despot to do so. But in the end, what happened? Civil war.”

Finally, he reached for the book on top of the three bottom ones, and pulled it out, grabbed it by the spine, and then ripped it in half. He then put the book, now only half as strong, back on the pile. It, too, seemed unable to support the weight, and then collapsed.

“You were very young, but I remember when there was no Emperor, and the Imperium was ruled by the Ministers alone, in a council. And what happened there in the end? Endless bickering, a power struggle, a civil war only averted because we were invaded, and then finally a true tyrant in charge who signed off the deaths of far more beasts than I or the Empress ever killed from his office with a stroke of his pen. Yet, the Ministers thought what they were doing was ‘protecting the people’, as you put it.

He then replaced the torn book with another, firmer hardcover, and gestured at it.

“The current arrangement. The Imperium on top, the Empress and her Ministers in the middle, and the classes on bottom. Whatever faults you might think it has, it is stable, and does not collapse in on itself. I would argue, Captain Grimes, that is ‘protecting the people’.”

He gave him something of a crooked smile, then, curiously, picked up what seemed to be a more sturdy book. First, he tried to replace the middle book too quickly, and the whole thing collapsed. Then, too slowly, and again, the whole thing collapsed. And then finally, at just the right speed, it was replaced, and seemed sturdier than ever.

“But that does not mean, Captain Grimes, that we cannot make changes to make it stronger. To better protect our citizens. It must simply be done, as you see, carefully, and at just the right pace and speed. Which is what I have been charged to do, and, in their own ways, the other Ministers have as well.”

He placed the books down on his desk again, and then put them to the side to get a better look at his new stoat captain.

“Our duty to the Empress must still be mentioned in some form. But…” he peered into Grimes’s eyes “...perhaps we can find a way to word it that is more flexible for this time of progress. Changing it, but not so quickly or not so slowly.”

@Samuel Grimes

 

[Samuel Grimes]

Briefly Grimes reflected that mentioning the Empress at all might have been the problem, especially given Ryalor’s rumoured bias. It seemed his intentions were possibly even misconstrued if the fox’s subsequent actions were anything to go by. ‘You seem like a smart enough beast’ was always a worrying statement from someone in power. It usually meant they were about to tell you exactly how they intended to keep causing harm and they expected you to keep quiet and let them continue it if they knew what was good for them.

Grimes had come looking to discuss a law he believed was a danger to everyone, including the fox sat before him. He did not expect a presentation on social structure like he was some eager political student. He watched the first set of books being set up, silently already taking issue with the metaphors. In his mind, the vertical books were better off being combined into one thick volume marked ‘people’. At the least, two of them in a fat tome that supported the rich as a thin but sturdy text of its own. There would always be some class divides, but the varied workers needed one another, even if there were fewer of the gifted ones that helped propel things forward. To Grimes’ mind, the book at the top didn’t even exist. To him, the Imperium was the people. That included the Empress and all her associations. Perhaps it was the Fyadoran culture that brought this strange notion of some ethereal concept that had to be held up with honour and pride. Then again, you could find that in a lot of Vulpinsulans at 3am who were full of Odd Tinge. Even Grimes held himself up to something intangible, but he suspected what he called the Imperium was very different to what Amélie believed.

He was no politician. He had no interest in social studies. The complexities of it all mattered little to him. He wondered at what point Ryalor had misunderstood his concerns as ‘I think we should change society as a whole’. Not a bad long-term goal necessarily, but it was beside the point.

More examples came, one seeming to hint that it was close enough to what he was driving at, inferring it would be damagingly soft. Yet he had mentioned nothing about adjusting hierarchy, not so long as everything was running in the very forward direction the Imperium needed.

You seem to be under the impression I want to operate completely free of authority and let a mob of Blobbys run amok. That I’m advocating for the removal of the Empress herself. You’re using the rhetoric of other regimes to undermine my concern of a weakness in the Imperium. I don’t know if you’re too used to defending our Imperial Majesty or if you’re too beholden to textbooks to see the worth of your own people.

Eventually, Ryalor moved on, and at last it seemed he skirted nearer to what Grimes had been bringing to the table. It made him wonder what the point of the rest of the lecture had been, when none of that had pertained to this final metaphor. This, this was what was being discussed, the strengthening of the already existing regime. The other arrangements felt like an excuse to mock wording taken out of context, to destabilise him, make him feel like he’d best leave power play to his ‘betters’. They could keep their damn power play, so long as they didn’t use it to lead Bully to the slaughter. It gave Grimes a headache.

When all was said and done, the conclusion left an opening for possibilities. Grimes had his doubts how far they could be taken, but he still had his fur intact.

“Thank you, sir. Would that be open to suggestion from someone of my rank? I would not like to embarrass the commissioners or Commander Strafer."​