Private Barracks/Imperial Condos Comrade in Harms

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil's expression turned to shame as Caden inquired after his chosen vocation, and he looked down at his paws, clasped in his lap. "It..." He swallowed, clearing his throat before admitting, "It was for my siblings. After my mother died, and most of House Ryalor was killed that night by unknown assailants, everyone in our family was terrified. We didn't know who was responsible, we didn't know if the threat would follow us across the sea to Eastisle. I..." He swallowed before admitting, "I was worried that whoever killed our mother would come kill us too. So, I learned how to defend myself and those around me. At first it was just to protect myself and my siblings, but once my cousins started to come along, I stepped up and protected them as well. Not very well, I'm afraid." He grimaced, his mind going back to numerous close calls. "Since they've all grown up, I've been at loose ends to find a purpose for myself. Any one of them could best me now, so there is no purpose in me guarding them. I could go protect my sister Mileya, I suppose, but she resents being watched over that way, and would turn it into watching over me instead. So, continuing to use my skills in the Guard makes the most sense. If I can't protect my family, I can at least help to protect the Imperium."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden felt like disappearing in that moment as Daniil spoke. Alwyn had not been exaggerating when he describe how much Vaelora's death had impacted the path of Daniil's life. Memories and impressions long buried of that chaotic, violent night surfaced, and Caden held back a shudder as he thought of the terror the young fox must have experienced. For him, he had been burning with vengeful rage and had a clear purpose. He could still readily recall the heady, empowering thrill of the experience despite his guilt and shame. For a fox kit in House Ryalor, it must have been something akin to a nightmare, disempowering and stripping away any sense of safety or security.

"They all grew up, did they not?" Caden said softly, gently. "I would say you succeeded. You took a tragedy and built yourself a life from it, seeking to help others because of your pain. Now perhaps, as you said, you can shift your purpose. And maybe, Daniil, you'll find more of yourself in the process."

He looked out the window, gaze unfocused as his mind's eye went elsewhere, to his own story and memories. "At some point we all have to live for ourselves a bit. We're allowed seek out the happiness that's eluded us because we have either been running from ourselves, from some failure or mistake, or we've been just trying to live for others to feel like we have some clear purpose for existing." Caden inhaled and exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he came back to the present and looked at the painting on the table.

"Einar helped me with coming to that understanding. Sometimes it just takes the right beast in your life to show you the way to feeling like you can finally stop and rest and be content with yourself."

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil's eyes started to shine with tears as he listened to Caden's reflections and affirmations. The gentleness of Asta's lute in the background only added to the moment, providing an accompaniment to catharsis. "I've spent so long trying to live for everyone else," he admitted, leaning forward slightly despite the pain. "I... I don't know how to simply be myself anymore. I..." He hesitated, sniffling, before admitting, "I used to like poetry. Reading it, but writing it too. My mother would read poetry to me as I fell asleep. Maybe... Maybe it's time I try it again... if I can find inspiration in something... or someone."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

"That sounds like a beautiful place to start." Caden smiled, unable to hide his genuine affection for the fox. He set his plate down and stood. "If you like poetry, I have a book you might enjoy."

Walking to the book case beside the piano, he searched the shelves. "My parents were in an arranged marriage. My mother wasn't keen on the idea at first, thinking my father would try to overshadow her and strike down her ambitions. Gordon, however, won her over by being fully supportive of her political aspirations, and by being a very charismatic, charming suitor." He tapped at his chin and pulled a worn book from the shelf.

Caden turned to Daniil and pawed the book to him. The cover was non-descript, simply reading A Collection of Poems.

"I recently came back into possession of several artifacts from my mother's estate. Not much is left, but I found this to be a window into what was perhaps a simpler, happier time in her life. It looks as though it was a courting gift from Gordon early on in their relationship."

Indeed, when Daniil opened the front cover, there was a paw-written note within.

Dearest Nuori,

I know you prefer Naval histories and battle logistics, but I thought you might enjoy this collection by various authors for some lighter nighttime reading. At the very least, even if you do not enjoy it, perhaps it will bore you into a restful slumber.

With interest,
G.F.

Caden rubbed the back of his neck, feeling suddenly quite shy. "I thought there was some very nice imagery in several of the works. There was one--it's about a long lost love--that definitely got me shedding some tears. If you'd care to borrow it, for some inspiration, I'd be happy to lend it to you."

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil stood to follow Caden, wincing with some pain, and accompanied him to the bookshelf. He carefully accepted the volume, gingerly opening it and reading over the inscription, eyes widening at the loving sentiment expressed therein. Reverently he turned through the pages, his eyes scanning over lines of poetry before he found the one in question, or at least one of a similar sentiment.

"The schooner Hope washed 'pon the shore of the sea of Melancholy," he read out loud, the timber of his voice proving smooth and expressive, perfect for carrying the sentiment of the words, "no sign therein of whom she bore, a bride intended to be. And I alone, a groom no more, pushed back out to the sea; my forlorn Hope, by sail and oar, to seek my Amelie. Whe'er Primary or Humidor, e'er wandering shall I be, 'til find my bride on stranger tides, my Amelie and me." He blinked back tears, closing the book. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice a touch hoarse. "I shall safekeep it with my life, 'til it be returned to you."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden let out a wistful sigh. "You're welcome. That one gets me every time, and the way you read it--" He put his paw to his chest. "You really captured the emotion, I think."

They stood together by the shelf, close enough that Caden could feel some of the warmth from the todd's body. He glanced down, shifting his gaze from the todd's so as to not appear overly intense, and the dagger caught his eye once more. A twisting sensation turned his stomach. What was he doing? There was no way this could end without heartbreak, more than he had already caused for Daniil in his lifetime. What if he told him the truth of that night and his part in it? No, Alwyn had warned him against that, warned him of what that information might do to his cousin. And Caden had sworn to keep the secret from Daniil. It would be better that way, of course, if he simply never found out.

Caden found himself reaching up to lay a paw on Daniil's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled at the todd. "I'm glad the Fates put me in the Slups that day so that I could make sure the world didn't lose a beast such as you, Daniil."

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil felt his heart thumping in his chest as Caden put a paw upon his shoulder. His nerves felt alight with anticipation, a nervous energy racing through his body. 'Gates, he could almost smell the blueberry and tea on Caden's breath standing this close to him, but rather than finding it off putting, it was intoxicating to Daniil. Don't look at his lips, look at his eyes, don't look at his lips... The sustained eye contact was too much for him, and he glanced down, right to where he'd promised himself he wouldn't look. His whole mind went blank, and he struggled to dredge himself back, to recall what Caden had just said. "I, ah..." He swallowed before stating, his throat a bit dry, "I'm glad as well. I'm happy it gave me this opportunity to get to know you better, and to meet your lovely family."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden hadn't noticed that Asta's playing had stopped. He caught movement from the edge of his vision and saw her standing in the doorway, paw over her mouth to hide a gleeful smile. She stepped into the room. Caden cleared his throat and gave Daniil a rueful look that could have been characterized as roguish by some. He dropped his paw and took half a step back from the todd.

"Music," Asta said by way of explanation for her intrusion, pointing to the shelf behind the pair.

"Oh, right, of course." Caden made room for her to access the shelf.

"Not flirting, hm?" She eyed her adoptive father with a knowing quirk of her brow as she pulled out a folder of loose sheet music.

Caden folded his arms over his chest and matched her expression. "Fine, maybe some."

Asta opened the folder and showed the contents to Daniil. "You know any? I play for you."

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil looked over the sheet music, his brow furrowed as he examined the titles. He paused on a piece, smiling as he recognized the initial notes. "This was one my sister used to play for me, when..." His throat tightened as he manged to get out, "when I was feeling sad. I suppose it's probably my favorite."

(I'm imagining it as similar to Lágrima by Francisco Tárrega)

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

"Yes, good song." Asta took her stand from the corner of the room and set it in front of the chair Daniil had sat in minutes prior. She plopped down and motioned for the pair to sit on the couch. As Daniil made his way, Caden behind him, the two martens made eye contact. Asta gave her adoptive father an innocent smile while Caden tried to appear exasperated. He sat, ensuring Daniil had enough room so as to stay out of physical contact if he so desired.

The young marteness began to play, her fingers dancing over the strings as the song rang out. She played it slowly, gently, each note caressed with delicate care. Caden smiled proudly, settling into the couch, eyes closed as he listened.

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil settled down on the couch next to Caden, trying to situate himself so he could sit upright. He found that, with a slide sag in the cushion, trying to remain upright put pressure on his wound. The only relief came when he slightly leaned in to Caden, resting his shoulder against his fellow guardbeast's. "Apologies, si- Caden," he murmured, then fell silent, closing his eyes as he listened to the beautiful, reflective, and oddly hopeful tune drift through the room.

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

"It's fine," Caden murmured back, glad that Daniil was on his uninjured side. He wasn't sure how he felt about the warm sensation settling in his chest spurred on by the todd leaning against him. He tried to relax into it, though part of him, one that called for far more caution than he was currently exhibiting, warred against the attempt.

As Asta played the last notes, allowing them to lift and float through the room in a way that Caden had come to realize took an inborn skill and love for the craft, he opened his eyes. Not wanting to jostle Daniil by applauding with both paws, he bore through the soreness in his right shoulder and used his right paw and knee to applaud her.

"That was lovely. I don't think I've heard that one before. Thank you for choosing it, Daniil. I can see why it was a comfort to you."

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil carefully clapped with his paws, the sound small as he minimized his movement. "You're very welcome," he acknowledged the praise for the selection. "Asta more than does it justice. The passion for music is very clear. I hope that, perhaps, we might hear her perform in concert one day," he added. "I know that Bully Harbor has a Philharmonic Orchestra, though I'm uncertain who Phil is or what his harmonies sound like. I'm sure that her talents would be well appreciated in such a setting."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden let out a low chuckle and gave Daniil and light punch to the thigh. "That's a terrible joke, my friend. You're right, though, she would do well. Much better there than performing at the Bilge." His ears flattened in mild distress. "Just a few weeks ago she found her way there. She's lucky I happened by there that afternoon."

Asta strummed idly, pulling a face at the older marten. "I know you talk about me, Caden." Then, in Varangian, "I understand more than I can speak, remember? And I made good money there, didn't I?"

"Sorry, Asta, that was rude of me." Caden's tone hovered somewhere between sincerity and sarcasm. "Daniil's right, though. Perhaps we should stop in at Niceties, see about getting you an audition for the orchestra." He repeated the phrase in Varangian.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Good get out more. Bored here." She leaned forward in her chair, craning her neck to look at the katana in Daniil's belt. "Nice sword. I see?"

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil's lips actually crept toward a smile as he watched the loving banter between father and daughter. He actually seemed to be relaxing a bit, settling against Caden. At Asta's question, though, he stiffened a bit, and with some great effort he sat upright. "Yes, of course," he allowed. Carefully, trying not to invade Caden's personal space, Daniil untied the sheath from his belt and carefully drew the sword a few inches, offering it to Asta. "Its name is Requiem," he explained quietly. "It belonged to my mother. I carry it in her memory." His paws squeezed around blade and hilt, gripping tightly, before with some effort he relaxed them. "You can look if you want," he allowed. "It is very sharp, though, so be careful."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Unslinging her lute from her shoulders, Asta stood and set the instrument on the chair. She took the katana in careful paws, eyes shining with interest.

"Requiem," she repeated with reverence. Drawing the sword partially from its scabbard, Asta took in the beautiful, folded metal of the blade. "Like water."

Beside Daniil, Caden tried to keep his breathing steady. He reached for what was left of his tea on the table and took a slow sip. Asta sheathed the katana and pawed it back to Daniil. "Beautiful. Caden has mother's sword, too."

"One of them, at least." Caden was glad Asta's attention had shifted. "Another of the items reclaimed from her estate. Though by no means is it even close to the value and artistry of your mother's blade."

The younger marten turned her gaze to the knife. "Beautiful knife, too."

Caden choked on his tea.

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil hesitated, only briefly glancing to Caden as what that knife had done resurfaced in his mind. More slowly, he pulled the knife from his belt, and held it in his paws, offering it to Asta. "This knife," he said quietly, his timbre low, "is the one that killed my mother." He paused before adding, "It also recently saved my life, held in your father's paw. So, I suppose.... I suppose it cannot be all evil."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

With Caden trying to clear his throat on one side of Daniil, Asta reverently took the knife, even more careful than she had been with the katana. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked first at the knife, then to Daniil. "Your mother, killed too? Like Caden's. Like my father. I'm sorry."

She turned the knife over in her paws. "Caden save you in Slups? With knife?"

"Daniil was one of the beasts I rescued, yes," Caden said, his voice hoarse. "I had to improvise in the moment, and the knife was--was the most convenient weapon. I'm sorry, Daniil, I didn't realize what the blade meant to you." The lie hurt as badly as a stab wound.

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil's eyes watered, and he could only mutely nod at Asta's questions. He glanced to Caden, his face falling at how clearly that action had pained Caden too. "It..." he swallowed before managing, "It's alright. You couldn't have known. Besides, I..." He hesitated before saying, "Maybe I've been carrying it for too long. My sister, she hates that blade, says I should have thrown it into the ocean years ago. She says that I keep it because..." His mouth closed, and it took him a moment to compose himself again enough to speak. "Because I can't let go of her," he managed. "That I hold onto hope of vengeance because it's the only way I can keep her memory alive." He shook his head, trying to clear away the tears. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "It... It was inappropriate of me to share that. Please forgive my indiscretion."

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

"No, it's okay." Caden reached a hesitant paw to Daniil's. He took the fox's paw and held it firmly. "I honestly don't know what to say that would help. I would be a hypocrite to tell you that you shouldn't seek vengeance." 'Gates, he could tell him. He could tell him right then and there. Caden's heart pounded and he pushed the thought away."The beasts who killed Einar, I--"

He stopped and looked up in question at Asta, who was gripping the knife, her eyes on Caden. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

Caden's gaze went distant as he looked across the room. "I made sure they suffered. Each of them. I could have been quick about it. I had the drop on them. But I wanted to look each of them in the eye as they died so they knew." He shuddered and came back to the present, paw still clutching Daniil's as he turned to meet the todd's gaze.

"I understand why you hold onto the hope of vengeance, why you feel you can't let go. It can happen when one we love is taken from us in such a horrible and unexpected way." His voice caught, but he pushed onward. "I'm sorry, Daniil, I truly am. It is a horrible burden to bear."