Private A Slight Inconvenience

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

Just a day like any other. The rich sauntered by in their winter coats, over their winter coats; the poor clutched their rags against the wind's bite, haranguing who they may before the Fogeys scared them back to the Slups. Those who found themselves in between dashed about on errands, the threat of poverty and their superiors' power nipping at their heels.

A fascinating cuckoo clock, a badly oiled machine watched by the beasts who shaped it to their advantage. Patience was the quiet and steady stairway to power. Patience was the bellyfiller.

Fanjo was not fond of anonymous jobs. They had the potential to bring trouble regardless of how little blame he could shoulder as a beast doing as he was paid to. When people couldn't find their real enemy, it was easy enough to take it out on the weapon. But the money had been good. He didn't care why his client wanted this fox, why they wanted him bringing to a particular place, what they even wanted to do with him. It wasn't his problem.

The Kreehold hunter had scoped out his prey for the past few days, observing what routines he could glimpse outside of the ministry. They were important to a higher-up, he had gleaned that much. A risky quarry. He would have to rely on the protection of the captain and the Minister of Commerce that his service was legitimate, however much that might keep him from retribution. But the money had been good.

When Ronan stepped out of the Missertross Poste Office on one of his usual errands, a sack went over his head and a rope bound his arms to his sides.

"'Pologies, Mr Eirlys. Slight adjustment to your schedule this evenin'."

@Ronan Eirlys ​

 

[Ronan Eirlys]

The work of a personal aide was varied and ever-changing, but Ronan had to admit that there was small pleasure in the drudgery. Though the organisational tasks had the satisfaction of visible impact upon the running of Misanthropy’s offices, it was short trips like these where not only did he indulge in a breath of fresh air, but gossip outside of the faction’s walls. He was no great spy by any means – hadn’t the interest – but the nosy fox relished any opportunity to see if there were familiar faces in the post offices he could trade gossip with. Today had proven fruitful, and armed with some of the new swirling rumours beneath the city surface he had stepped from the Missertross Poste Office with a bounce. Once he was back there would only be a few matters to attend to, a cloak of Dusk’s which needed sending off for proper repair, and barring any additional needs he would have a free evening. It was going to be a good day.

No sooner had the bracing air hit his whiskers once more it was gone with alarming speed. For a second he rather thought he had gone blind until the pressure of rough fabric closed in around his snout. Oh. This was what Misanthropy had threatened countless times upon others; what he had witnessed plenty of time within the building.

Why on earth, then, was it happening to him?

Paws sought to grasp for the rapier at his hip but tight bonds prevented his reach. Ronan squirmed, footpaws kicking at the cobblestones as he fought in vain to free himself from his captor’s grip. “What’s the meaning of this!?” he cried shrilly. “Don’t you know who I am?!” The stranger had just said his name, and yet it seemed they were ignorant of his position. Or had something changed? The young todd tried to cast from his mind doubts on such a matter and redoubled his efforts. “Unhand me at once!”