- Character Biography
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The rattle and scrape of activity inside the new Kreehold Barracks heralded the final stretch of operations as the building hurtled into the day of its rebirth. The complex, having been chosen this time, exceeded the scope of its previous iterations not for ostentatious tastes so much as practicality. Lodgings for the barracks now existed separate from the main building to accommodate both soldiers and officers, extending around the courtyard training ground and its well-stocked armouries. The main building itself, within which the offices and common spaces coincided, were where the final touches were being placed. Those with previous connections to the Kreehold, reinstated to previous ranks, polished and placed and repainted alongside Commerce hires keen for an excuse to take a day out of the offices during the wintertime, when noses were runny and the hours long. It had all come at no insignificant cost, but Callisto had been cautious to budget and draw from his own savings to cover the expense under the certainty that work would bring a return on the investment in due time. A city like this always had work for the enterprising, after all.
Reinstating the Kreehold had been a risky decision, potentially a signal to other Ministries of his intentions, but the wolverine knew that any significant choice would be met with due suspicion regardless. Had he sunk his claws into the Furotazzis as the only approved faction under Commerce it could just have easily undermined his legitimacy in the courts after Vito’s tenure. That was not to say the Minister of Commerce had no designs in mind for the Furotazzis: he was merely biding his time to arrange a meeting with the beasts heading the family. The Kreehold were an operation he could make visible, could send to Niceties gatherings as easily as Misanthropy’s without the reputation already accumulated by Vito’s legacy. Furthermore the Kreehold were something of a vanity for Callisto; a legend from seasons past he found almost romanticised in its retelling in books and letters. There was something of a duty as MinoComm to bring back such a prestigious part of the Imperium’s history into the public sphere once again.
To do so adequately, though, he needed to swell the numbers. Word had been put out, both strategically and overtly, to attract a swathe of beasts for various roles within the re-fledged faction. Whispers in underground rings spoke of a need for soldiers and captains; posters advertised the opportunity for beasts with any creative talent from lockpicking to publishing to earn part-time coin as Artisans; training grounds and dockyards exchanged coy commentary on the open spaces for the more specialist roles. A new Captain would cause a stir.
Thick claws delicately plucked a platycodon from a vase of the purple flowers and Callisto inspected the delicate plant for a moment as he paced through the common areas towards the front offices. The year was ending, the seasons turning as the wheel rolled itself into another year: it was a time for change and rebirth, and what better way to celebrate a new beginning than with one of their own? An open bar was arranged for the day and dispensation given to allow interested parties to gather in the common spaces just for the day before they became accessible only to Kreehold Mercenaries. His ear flicked as somewhere above a metallic ping and a curse told him that somebeast had the enviable task of nailing up the very few remaining Kreehold artefacts.
Fearne lingered by the doorway to the Captain’s office, Callisto’s temporary workplace, and offered a small curtsey as the Minister approached. “Sir, all the deliveries are here and somebeast should be at the bar within the hour. I think the first new recruits will be along shortly.”
“Good work. I’ll leave the door open, but send them through when they get here.” He patted his aide’s shoulder and pressed the platycodon into her paw before shambling into the office. Fearne, having herself no interest in the Kreehold but to serve her Minister until it was established, waited until his back was turned before slipping it beneath the first page of her clipboard. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and stared ahead down the corridor, wondering just what manner of beast was due to arrive this day.
Reinstating the Kreehold had been a risky decision, potentially a signal to other Ministries of his intentions, but the wolverine knew that any significant choice would be met with due suspicion regardless. Had he sunk his claws into the Furotazzis as the only approved faction under Commerce it could just have easily undermined his legitimacy in the courts after Vito’s tenure. That was not to say the Minister of Commerce had no designs in mind for the Furotazzis: he was merely biding his time to arrange a meeting with the beasts heading the family. The Kreehold were an operation he could make visible, could send to Niceties gatherings as easily as Misanthropy’s without the reputation already accumulated by Vito’s legacy. Furthermore the Kreehold were something of a vanity for Callisto; a legend from seasons past he found almost romanticised in its retelling in books and letters. There was something of a duty as MinoComm to bring back such a prestigious part of the Imperium’s history into the public sphere once again.
To do so adequately, though, he needed to swell the numbers. Word had been put out, both strategically and overtly, to attract a swathe of beasts for various roles within the re-fledged faction. Whispers in underground rings spoke of a need for soldiers and captains; posters advertised the opportunity for beasts with any creative talent from lockpicking to publishing to earn part-time coin as Artisans; training grounds and dockyards exchanged coy commentary on the open spaces for the more specialist roles. A new Captain would cause a stir.
Thick claws delicately plucked a platycodon from a vase of the purple flowers and Callisto inspected the delicate plant for a moment as he paced through the common areas towards the front offices. The year was ending, the seasons turning as the wheel rolled itself into another year: it was a time for change and rebirth, and what better way to celebrate a new beginning than with one of their own? An open bar was arranged for the day and dispensation given to allow interested parties to gather in the common spaces just for the day before they became accessible only to Kreehold Mercenaries. His ear flicked as somewhere above a metallic ping and a curse told him that somebeast had the enviable task of nailing up the very few remaining Kreehold artefacts.
Fearne lingered by the doorway to the Captain’s office, Callisto’s temporary workplace, and offered a small curtsey as the Minister approached. “Sir, all the deliveries are here and somebeast should be at the bar within the hour. I think the first new recruits will be along shortly.”
“Good work. I’ll leave the door open, but send them through when they get here.” He patted his aide’s shoulder and pressed the platycodon into her paw before shambling into the office. Fearne, having herself no interest in the Kreehold but to serve her Minister until it was established, waited until his back was turned before slipping it beneath the first page of her clipboard. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and stared ahead down the corridor, wondering just what manner of beast was due to arrive this day.
