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!”

 

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

Fanjo's rope only bound all the tighter before he dragged his bounty into an alleyway and pinned him to a wall with one elbow. His other paw brough the point of his crossbow, safety secured, to trace Ronan's ribs.

He respected the small todd's attempt to fight, though there was much to be desired when it came to the entitled words he spouted. In Fanjo's eyes, this fox deserved to be robbed of near everything he had.

"Ah know who you are and so does mah client. This, Mr Eirlys, is a '64 Compact Weggan. She'd dearly like you to make another move, but the way ah sees it, you and I'd benefit keepin' quiet and goin' on a liddle excursion. Ah get paid, you might live. Ah think that's pretty darn fair a deal, don't you?" ​

 

[Ronan Eirlys]

It could be a bluff. He’d heard enough tales of agents in MAUL managing spectacular deals based on little more than sharp pieces of wood and inflated confidence; there was every possibility that this stranger could be running a similar scam. Still, to presume so would require faith in calling their bluff, and between the accent and the threat of something sharp near his ribs…his conviction faltered.

Time. Time and money were his only real options, and at the very least his assailant wasn’t threatening immediate death. That was good, at least. If he could play for time until Dusk missed him or just convince them that she’d pay more than whoever wanted him out of the way he might manage to keep himself in one piece.

Whether he was being intentionally awkward or painfully literal there was no knowing, but having requested quiet Ronan was loath to speak again (a rarity). The hood bobbed once in a nod of assent.

 

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

The walk went on for some time, through twists and turns into the belly of the Slups, the hood remaining on the captive all the way. Whether Ronan was capable of memorising every step did not much bother the hunter. Fanjo roughed him over the threshold of the dosshouse and palmed a few gilders to the beast behind the desk bars. A short while later, the unfortunate clerk was bound to a chair in one of the establishment's rooms.

Sight was granted to him again with the tearing of fabric. Fanjo slit the hood open with a knife and yanked it down to hang limply around the other todd's neck.

"There now. Ah'd say we're safe to relax and get acquainted."​

 

[Ronan Eirlys]

Ronan liked to believe he knew the city streets well considering Misanthropy’s connections and his own wanderings: even so, turn after turn began to erode what confidence the aide had in his own memory. Cobbles underpaw still suggested they were in the Slups, but where exactly within the sprawl he couldn’t, after some time, guess with exact certainty. Had his paws only been free to drop a token of some sort to assist in his discovery. Surely somebeast in MAUL would miss him.

Surely?

Wherever they were smelled cheap. This would not unduly bother him for a few more minutes yet. Still silent, he allowed himself to be roughed into a room and secured. A snarky comment sat on the tip of his tongue regarding the ropes; it scurried back down his throat when a blade nearly tickled his nose.

Blinking in the low light, Ronan blurted on reflex. “-Whatever they’re paying you, I can get you more,” the fox started. “If you know who I am you’ll know how important I am to the Minister. Anything they’re offering you for me can be doubled, easily. It really would be to your advantage to consider…consider…”

Nostrils flared. The scent, the sights, hit him. His fur puffed out comically. “Hol- now hold on just one moment!” Indignation and disappointment showed on his face. “How dare you take me to some – some – ramshackle slop-house like a common Furotazzi target! No, this will not do! Are you a true professional or not?!”

 

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

Here came the bargaining. Fanjo did not like to wallow too deeply in his own pride, for it was a dangerous failing in a beast of his vocation, but he retained a certain self-satisfaction in the way he conducted his business. The money was what drove him, but a hunter who could be bought out at every turn by richer folk wasn’t really the reliable sort. Changes in plans made by others brought greater risk, too.

By the time he had drawn up a chair to sit across the room from his captive, the little snit had switched his tune.

Fanjo stared at him, unflinching. “Ah wasn’t aware I was in the company of an expert mercenary,” he said drily. “Forgive me for sayin’, but you ain’t mighty prolific if I ain’t seen you sportin’ the platycodons.”​

 

[Ronan Eirlys]

He knew he should stop talking. Agents had disappeared from Misanthropy’s offices for expressing less and common sense dictated one, as the abductee, do level best to manage the emotions of their abductor for safety’s sake. Unfortunately, knowledge rarely translated to action with Ronan. Well-groomed fur all but stood on end with indignation as he bristled.

He was a high-class target, ‘gates damn it, and he would be treated as such!

“How dare you! Expert mercenary?! such beasts are beneath me, I’d be organising them if anything! Honestly if you don’t even know who I am or what influence I have within my Ministry you are no expert yourself and this is a complete farce! Ragged room, ragged fox – though you are handsome – ragged attitude. It’s all so…so…common! I demand to speak to your superior, this will NOT do!”

 

[Fanjo Mercytooth]

Yet another entitled uppity bemoaning his particular reasons as to why he should have special treatment. The pay may fluctuate but to Fanjo there was no difference in value between any of the miserable carcasses he dragged. Early days he would have snarled at the suggestion of being considered lesser, but he had learnt fast that it was a common theme with any bounty from the higher echelons. How sweet it would be one day to be as rich as them. Richer, even. Then when they ridiculed him he could use money to make it stop. Or do it himself and use money to make the rest go away.

A faint near-smile touched Fanjo's muzzle at being called 'handsome'. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disgusted.

"Ah work for mah own self, Mistah Eirlys. Whosoever pays me ain't my superior. Come to think of it, maybe they didn't specify whether they'd need you dead or alive. If you're dead set on me bein' beneath you, ah'm sure ah can find a decent rafter to get you nice an' strung up."​

 

[Ronan Eirlys]

“Fine, fine. No need to be hasty.”

His tail still a bottlebrush of pure indignation, Ronan continued to glare daggers at the mercenary – though the full haughtiness of his bluster had been tempered by fear. Sensibly he allowed a moment of silence to linger as heavily as the threat. It wasn’t the first time (and he convinced himself hopefully not the last) he’d been threatened, for MAUL was rife with such banter, but always there had been the protective buffer of Dusk. He could not bank on this lone todd caring to restrain himself for risk of drawing the Minister’s ire: if anything, he rather fancied that he’d relish the thought. Those roguish types often did in the books.

A defeated sigh at last hissed from held breath. Ronan pouted once again. “So what do you want with me, now? You haven’t handed me to a beast and I’ve already offered you better pay than whatever idiot thinks so poorly of me as to hire somebeast like you – full offence – so if you just expect me to sit and wait for them to arrive I can’t say I’ll do so patiently.” The irrepressible fox batted his eyelashes, then, for fear and common sense still did not work in perfect harmony within his brain. “Or quietly – unless you have other plans.”