Rainblade-Ryalors Private Old Foxes in a New Era

[Talinn Ryalor]

Thundering booms erupted over Bully Harbor as the moonless night sky was illuminated momentarily by flashes of lightning between the pounding sheets of rain that lashed at the Harbor and its residents. Those in the Slups would be desperately, futilely trying to floodproof their houses at the last moment, the workers of the Docks would be hurriedly tying down ships and preparing the necessary materials to repair them from any damage, and those in the Insanely Rich Area would peer down and enjoy the occasion from beneath their reinforced and guarded castles and mansions, suitably warmed by burning fires, and, in a few of the more experimental residences, steam powered by coal.

At the Ryalor estate, now more often being referred to as Fort Ryalor due to it hosting one side of the harbor chain, new fortifications, and cannon, a lone, old, tired fox looked up from the stacks of papers he was dutifully drafting and sealing, even at the hour of the wolf. A shaking in his paw occurred at that thought, so much so that he had to put down his quill and grasp it with his other paw to control it. A fitting name for the hour that was rumored to take more beasts to death than any other, having faced that monster called Ulog. It took him a good five minutes to quell his nerves at the memory of the battle, of the afterlife, and of the grim measures it took to “save” him. He glanced down at his wheelchair and the braces on both of his legs and pelvis, with the intent for them to heal properly. If not, they would have to slice him open yet again, then break them once more and hope for another result.

Even if they are successful, though, I will be so weakened, perhaps permanently, that I wonder if I will ever become as strong a personal fighter as I once was. Of course, some of the techniques can still be used, but…

He shook his head. It was a sad state of affairs, but that was the cost of using Corda Aurea, arguably his greatest achievement to bring him back when all was lost, and it was a relatively favorable outcome of its use, all things considered. He rapped his paws on the desk thinking of the “miracle” drug, the consequences of using it to change what fate would otherwise surely ordain, and the terrible price paid to produce a vial. After all, one did not get the ability to make such a powerful medicine without sacrifices that both he and the production team on Magh paid for every day. Kitsune forgive them all…

Yet without it, good beasts like Tultow would surely be dead, and it will save the lives of many just like him. If I had been able to make it thirty years ago, perhaps Vaelora might…

Talinn shook his head, wiping away the tears that were forming. No, he had to focus, the best he could do to honor her was to relay her messages when the time was right, and make sure her kits were safe, happy, and would never be threatened by the enemies of the House again. And for that to happen, he would have to work to the end of his days to ensure the long game played out in their favor...while trying to save his own soul...hoping that the two of those were compatible in the end.

Wine, I need more wine. It keeps those thoughts at bay, along with the medication...I know I am not supposed to mix the two, but sometimes…

He pulled down the lever that had been installed to ring a chime outside of his door, waiting for his personal servant, Arta, to enter. He was sure that the vixen was spying for Dusk, more so to make sure he was not taking another vixen as his than for any other reason, but he did not mind. He had nothing to hide from her, and was resolute to fixing their relationship now that he had returned. They would soon go to Amarone together to work on that among other things.

Yet, strangely, the dutiful vixen did not come in moments as she usually did, or her temporary replacement when she was sick or had to use the restroom. Once again, he pulled the lever on the chime, and, once again, nothing happened. He frowned. That was unusual, and he did not like that at all. Rolling himself back from his desk in his wheelchair, his paw went to the wakizashi at his side, his only means of realistic defense given that he could not wield Duty’s Burden, and he drew the beautiful Auldarnian Steel blade, the rippling patterns reflecting off the candlelight as he rolled toward the door.

I did not hear the sounds of battle, clashing steel, screaming, and the guards and Arta are loyal...to me or Dusk...and for once I do not think she has it out for me. Not after what happened. I could stay here, lock the door, open the window, and scream for help, but the storm would muffle anything I say and I have nothing else to make myself noticed except if perhaps I threw my desk out the window...and I no longer have the strength for that. Besides, this door would not stop someone that skilled for long. The only chance I have if this is what I fear is to go on the offensive...and hope it is just one beast. I can manage that. Maybe, if they are slow or wounded.

Bracing himself, he ripped open the door with one paw and prepared to spring with the wakizashi with the other as he rolled forward in what would be considered an “unorthodox” offensive, but, to his surprise, there was no would-be assassin. No, as he turned his wheelchair around, only the limp body of Arta. Concerned, yet seeing no obvious wounds or blood, he rolled his wheelchair next to her, then barely managed to reach her neck with his paws, then felt for a pulse. It was there, and still strong. He put a paw over her muzzle, briefly, and felt warm, regular breaths. She was alive, just sleeping, and apparently out cold as his attempts to shove her awake did nothing.

What in ‘Gates…? Did she drink something?

Deciding to continue forward down the main hallway of his interior apartment, he hoped perhaps he was wrong, that it was just her having some kind of condition or some other cause, but it was as silent as a crypt, even as he called out a few times. He soon discovered why-the entire squad of guards, nearly a score, his clerks, and even Lieutenant Matas were out cold similarly, bodies arrayed in chairs or slumped along the walls. To his credit, the young arctic fox seemed to have been the last to go down, and had even managed to draw his sword, though there was no blood open it. No deaths on his side or the other, however many there may be, or, perhaps one beast, but he could count on one paw the number of those skilled enough to pull this off alone.

This is either a message job, a way to kill me and only me, or perhaps both.

Talinn glanced down the stairs into the first floor of the apartment, toward the door that led down the many steps to the main barracks. It was bolted shut from the inside and locked in addition, and Matas had not had the keychain on him. He was stuck in here, and even if he were not, he suspected the guards outside were dealt with and even if he could get through the door the only way down was a massive flight of winding, narrow stairs designed to be easy to defend in a siege that even when he was able to walk was an exercise-suicidal in a wheelchair.

He sighed, gripping the hilt of his dagger, and headed toward the bedroom. He had a feeling that is where whoever this was would be, and, increasingly, an idea of who it would be as well. He was tired, both because of the hour, and because of the effort to propel himself, but either he saw it through or that beast would, and if they had to, he suspected it would not be nearly as pleasant for him.

Opening the bedroom door slowly to a room illuminated only by the occasional burst of lightning, he quickly checked both sides of it as his decades of training prepared him, knife at the ready, but saw no one. It was not until he looked up and another blue flash from the storm that he saw the figure casually sitting on the windowsill. Recognizing who it was at last, he sheathed his blade with mixed emotions-part care for her as his sister-in-law, part overwhelming guilt in regards to his failures towards her, and part realizing that if she really meant him harm there was no way he could take her in his current condition.

“Tanya...it has been some time…” He probed carefully.

@Tanya Keltoi

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Perched on the windowsill like a ragged bird of ill omen, Tanya stared quietly back at the todd as she took stock of the state of him. The work had been no grand challenge for the vixen – at least not getting the house to sleep. The physicality of working her way inside, around and through a building of this size, however, had proven more taxing on her older body than she’d like to admit. Casual a demeanour though her stance indicated, she was inwardly glad for the rest.

Green eyes flicked up and down, taking in the chair, the bandages, the scarred face of her brother-in-law. There was a hint of judgement to her gaze but what that judgement indicated remained a mystery. For now a thin smile curled on her muzzle and she gestured to the other fox eloquently; in her paw one of the Dark Judge Brushes, last seen in Talinn’s wife’s possession now returned to their original owner. “Been too long, hasn’t it?” she replied with all the cheerful lightness of middle-class pleasantries at a dinner party. “We really should stop meeting like this, but now that I’ve got your attention I’d beg your indulgence to keep it for a while yet.”

The blade disappeared and with an inclination of the head she nodded to the wheelchair, a hint of mischief about her face. “Where are my manners. I’d ask how you’re doin’, but I think that’d be a question too obvious even for me. See you’re trying on the newest fashion from Urk; how’s that been holding up for you?” The humour dissolved in the pause that followed. She had not read the reports, she did not have access, but that had done little to keep her blind to the rumours that swirled upon the docks nor the lists of the dead circulating the harbour.

“You know, way back when, before you was even in the Harbour, there was Martial Law called. I got fuzzy memories of that time because I took one ‘Gates of a wallop to the head and missed all the action.” It was mostly true: she did not remember the day at all. The break from reality; the guards on the dock she did not recognise; Kiptooth's desperate attempts fighting to calm her down before she could be arrested. “Ended up in bed several weeks before Kip let me get back to duties. Was the most excruciatingly borin’ time of my life, as I recall. For all the being smacked in the head it didn’ really stop me thinking.”

She leaned forward a little, light and shadow playing across the planes of her narrow face. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about everything, cooped up in that cabin. All I’d done, all I wanted to do. Couldn’t outrun or outwork it that time, had to face it.” The pleasantness returned to her countenance. “So tell me, how’s it been for you usin’ a lump like that to get around your big ol’ place, eh?”

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn watched Tanya carefully as she spoke, noting that although she stretched out and relaxed, she still held one of the Dark Judge Brushes in her paw, and oh-so-subtlety pointed one of them at him as she spoke. So, she had met Dusk, likely sometime while he was away, and gotten her side of the story of events. He loved his wife, and since returning, they were working towards making up, but he also knew she could be cunning and manipulative. Whatever she had told her sister was likely the reason for this visit, and she had likely selectively left out parts of the story that made her look bad. That would mean he would have to tread...carefully...to say the least, until he found out more. The fact that Tox had not moved against him yet, though, meant she did not fully trust her sister, even if they had seemingly reconciled to a degree, and was likely looking for information. He remembered the words of his brother in the afterlife-Tanya was, beneath all the prickly, torn, and misshapen layers, a kind beast if you treated her properly. So, he would give her what she wanted, and, after all he had been through, would accept her judgment, whatever it may be.

He inclined his head in a measure of respect towards Tanya, and kept it that way as he spoke, a Fyadoran way to signal to either deference to a superior, an apologetic manner, or both. It was fitting, given his actions, and the fact that, technically speaking, Tanya was the rightful Empress of Fyador and should be the Duchess of Westisle, not him, given his brother’s death. He and Alexei had, more or less, usurped the titles to keep the House together when she and the proper heirs disappeared. Now things were much more...complicated...in that department.

“Years…” Talinn nodded, still keeping his eyes towards the ground and away from the vixen’s piercing green. “...I believe the sea trials of the Hide was the last time I saw you. She has turned out excellently, no doubt due to your suggested modifications, and we have two new engineering apprentices who have interesting ideas about how to further improve the engine.”

He paused, thinking of her other words, smiling softly at her humor for a moment, before it faded as he thought of that damned isle, and the lives lost there.

“Urk...it was…” he gestured to his body “costly, to me personally and the crew of the Hide. The intelligence we had suggested a few small, isolated, disorganized villages too busy warring with each other to mount an effective resistance, only some relatively weak priest cast guarding the idol, and even the possibility of diplomacy. All of that was...wrong.”


Talinn visibly shivered, remembering Ulog taking down an entire squad of marines in seconds, almost killing Stowett, and rendering him a cripple, then reading the list of the dead. Almost all of the marine complement wiped out, along with more than a few members of the crew itself, despite their superior technology and the Hide’s backup.

“...I had thought, once diplomacy failed due to their treachery, a quick bombardment, encampment, and a raid by a handpicked marine squad led by me and the younger Stowett while the rest of the crew held against perhaps a few dozen shrew stragglers. What happened…”

He shook his head.

“They were far, far more organized than anyone could have expected. At least a thousand, with a strong chain of command and elite, gargantuan berserkers. The idol we were looking for was guarded by a direwolf…and I was ‘lucky’ enough to live. Barely.”

He paused to take a breath, and met her gaze for the first time as he spoke.

“Their lives were not spent in vain, regardless. The idol is already being shipped to Magh for further testing. If, if it works out, it would greatly reduce the amount of charcoal needed for our steam industry, should we find more of the substance it is made of. But...it is dangerous...the prisoner who volunteered to carry it…” Talinn winced, a rarity for the normally stoic fox “...is not doing so well. Not very well at all.”

Returning his gaze to the floor once he had assured her of the necessity of the mission, he nodded.

“I have had...much time to think...both on the Hide, here, and...in another place. Much time. As for rolling around in this...contraption...it is suitable...until I make my recovery.”

If you make your recovery, more like. If.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Whether Talinn had intentionally elected not to respond to the implicit in her story or simply did not care for it Tanya could not tell. Her lips pursed, expression remaining inscrutable as she listened to the report from the Minister of Innovation about the Urk situation. During her tenure as Admiral and Minister she had not given the place much thought, save for the odd shipment of ice: a frozen tundra was of little value. Even now as she listened she could feel her hackles begin to prickle. Later on, she would reflect that it would be nice to meet these engineering apprentices.

She shook her head. "See, that's where we disagree," the vixen replied, tapping the tip of her blade lightly against her own nosetip as she spoke. It was a practiced gesture of old, an attempt to appear unmoved by her emotions beneath the surface. "If this idol thing of yours works - if, mind, so it might yet all be for nothing - we can make things faster or cheaper or easier with less coal. A pretty idea, and all it cost were the lives of beasts under your command and the lives of their sons an' daughters an' brothers an' mothers all ruined by the loss. If that was your son lost on Urk, would saving some coal feel worth it?"

With a gesture she flipped the blade and sheathed it. A sigh rattled from her chest, betraying the emotions simmering beneath. "Listen, I'm not unsympathetic to the fact beasts die under command - that's always been the case - and I respect you got the rest of them back, but 'Gates is this how we're still doing things in the Imperium, Talinn? Justifying and excusing every mistake because it might further a cause greater than life? It was a waste of young lives on a gamble you still can't guarantee has a benefit."

It was tempting to leave it there, press the unfortunate todd on moral matters and see what she could drag out of him, but making him squirm over Urk wasn't her intention. She had faced defeats in her own time: she knew well the guilt was going to be there with or without her prompting. "Urk isn't what I came to talk about, though. Suppose you know that, so why don't we start with the obvious: why'd you not tell me my 'Mina's dead?" The first crack to her voice came, then, though the steel in her eyes did not falter. "Why did you never tell me, or that should I come back I'd find the city hates that part of her like she's shameful and only cares about Vaelora? Why didn't you say?"

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn could defend himself to Tanya on the Urk mission, even if it lost many lives, and was even preparing his response, which he felt was appropriate. A comparatively few lives lost so that no beast would ever die of cold in the Imperium ever again, that shipments of critical medicine, food, and other essentials would never be late, not to mention the military applications if they mastered it-their ships would always outrun those of pirates, and the special project underway that would revolutionize transport...all of those would save countless more lives than were lost. Not to mention they could freeze their expansion of the Imperium where it was, if they found a deposit of the material-no more endless conflicts over lumber on the Sathern Continent, with even more lives saved. Yet, all of that fell out the window when Tox mentioned Mina and her voice cracked.

“I…” he started to say, but the normally stoic todd began to lose control of his body, visibly shaking, and then panting, as the overwhelming anxiety and guilt took over his body. The wakizashi he had in its sheath feel to the floor with a clatter, as Talinn tried to control the shaking in his body, wrapping his arms around himself, yet to little to no avail. He bit tried to bite back the vomit from the immense guilt that he felt, but found himself unable to as he looked at the pained face of his sister-in-law-instead, he turned to his side, and heaved. Bile came forth from his mouth, scattering partway over the carpet, partway over his armoire, and, as he recovered, a bit falling onto his clothes. Wiping that portion away with his right paw and putting it on the blanket he had on him before wrapping it up a bit, it took a few more minutes before he could even bring himself to speak. When he did, his voice was low, barely a whisper, and looking into Tanya’s green eyes with his own pained blue ones was perhaps the hardest thing he ever did in his life, when all his instincts told him to look away, but she was owed it.

“I...I could not…” he began, voice beginning to crack as well “...I could not...I did not have the strength...to tell you...that your precious girl...was gone. I had...meant to tell you...but every time I saw you...so content...I knew it would destroy you…”. Tears started to fall from his eyes, rolling down his face “...and it was my failure…I was so ashamed...so caught up in hatred...with what Anithias did to my wife Weylin...he...tortured her...and...badly…then shipped her to me...burned almost beyond recognition…wrapped up...like some kind of sick gift with a note...I…”

He shook even more, this time causing his blanket to fall off, and he could barely cling to his wheelchair. “I...became...unmoored...I was...obsessed...with revenge...blinded...I struck back at him without thinking...without...securing her safety first...and...by the time I had...collected myself...it was...he...I did not expect a kit to be used as a weapon...did not expect him to stoop so low...a blindspot...and before I could...she was gone….”

He visibly winced having to say those last three words. He took a little bit of time to collect himself, before he spoke once more.

“Armina...when...we found her...she was already...almost dead...I do not know...the full details of her past...but she was wanted….a serial killer. She had become...feral…” He paused, afraid for a moment that Tanya would strike him, but when that did not come, he continued “...the damage to her reputation...not even we could fix...but...what we could do...was try to heal her mind...suppress whatever caused the madness…try to sever it...and then...convince the public she was another beast….and...Tanya...I do not know exactly...but...she was. She was another beast. The madness that had...taken over...it was gone, or, so deep down, it would not come back. So...we gave her a new name...because...she was not the same...."

Talinn started to cry once more as he recalled his beloved cousin.

“You know...I was the one put in charge…? She...was a bit of a handful sometimes, running off to see Vorsky...but...she took to her heritage...found...redemption...and...when there were orphaned kits...she took to them like...no beast I have ever seen. She loved them...was a great mother...and...took to her duties seriously. I...did not know her as Armina…not...for long...but...I knew her as Vaelora...and...she was a good beast, Tanya. A genuinely good beast. I am not ashamed of her, I am proud of her. I loved her. Out of all of us...Alexei...Dusk...and...myself...she was the best. By far.”

By now the shaking was beginning to calm down, but his voice dropped to a whisper.

“I saw her...you know...on the other side...Tanya...I saw her…”