Private The Slups Out of the Ashes

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn was finally able to get some sleep, and, after a time, woke up, groggy and feeling itching all over, wishing to return to that blissful unconsciousness, but being unable to. His breath was a little ragged-he had not been exposed to as much of the smoke and that within it thanks to Theo, but it was an imperfect measure. He shifted uncomfortably in the bed, and then glanced around the room. A private, well-equipped one, given his station and the fact his mother was the minister of perhaps the most feared ministry in the Imperium. He was on what would normally be a comfortable bed, there were a few couches for visitors, a cot and a foxkit, refreshments on the table by his bed, a cot and a foxkit, some various medications neatly arranged on another table, a cot and a foxkit, some chocolates, a foxkit on a cot-Finnian!

Poor little fellow.

Painfully standing, he walked over to the sleeping young todd, putting a paw on his headfur. He seemed like a good enough lad, though he was going to owe him as he glanced over his body and gave a pitiful look at his tail, half-sheared, half-bandaged. Still, he seemed to be alive and breathing, which as far as he knew, was a good sign. Glancing down, he noticed a golden chain on his neck, and frowned a little. Kits were known to buy a lot of things, but jewelry was not one of them. Finnian was an orphan-did he still have parents somewhere, or did his own father give him that as some kind of commendation? Curious, he pulled carefully on the chain so as to not wake him up, and then out came a smudged locket, which he soon found in his paw. He froze instantly, breath catching in his throat.

No, it can’t be the same one, no, no, no.

The normally stoic guardsbeast began to shake despite his training, and flipped the locket over-it was halfway smudged on the back, but he could make out Annabelle on the back, and the words of the prophecy struck him. 3 O’clock and 3 O’clock, and I took something from your son. Trembling, he hoped that it was not true, that it was a coincidence, that the locking mechanism would be different, but his paws played over it as they had fifteen years ago. First one button, then the next, then a small, four digit rolling lock came up. He entered in the date, 1753, and then pressed the unlocking mechanism. It clicked open. There, protected from everything, was a portrait of her and a young todd. One that looked suspiciously like a younger Alwyn.

I…

He looked towards Finnian, harder this time. The fur color. The eye color. The shape of his face. An image of Annabelle...and...him. He fell down to the floor, shaking, quickly closing the locket and returning it to Finnian’s chest, panting rapidly from the stress and shock as he did so. It could not be, Finnian had to have just found that and kept it because it was shiny. No, she would not have left knowing that she was...and then kept it from him all these years. No, it, he…

Such thoughts went through his mind as the Lieutenant of the Guard and heir to the Duchy of Westisle pulled his knees up to his legs, anxiety running through his body so much he did not even notice the pain from all of his wounds.


@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had barely managed to keep pace with the badger nurse before a pair of stern-faced attendants intercepted him. Whatever warmth her fussing had held was gone from their tone; they peppered him with clipped questions about the fire, the kit, and his part in it. The moment he’d called Finnian his brother now felt like a mistake, if only because it seemed to invite twice the scrutiny. Still, he reckoned saying “crew mate” would’ve seen him turned out of the building entirely, so he stuck to his story.

Eventually, the interrogation eased. A different nurse appeared, brisk but polite, and led him away from the smell of smoke and the noisy bustle of the front hall. They wound through polished corridors into a quieter wing, the air scented faintly of clean linen and lavender oil. The floors shone, the sconces gleamed, and the chairs in the waiting area looked far too fine for a common seabeast to sit in without leaving a smudge.

Confused as to why Finnian had been brought here, Swifttail sat in uneasy silence, tail curled tight around his legs, eyes flicking between the ornate doors and the polished brass nameplates. All he could do now was wait for a nurse to tell him he could see the kit.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn was sleeping hard. The little foxkit was plumb exhausted after the whole ordeal. Since then he'd been scrubbed clean, and dressed in a hospital gown. Finn wasn't too fond of the whole process... Why was it that every time he met a Ryalor, he was involuntarily bathed?

In any case. Finn was on his side, curled around a pillow. He barely stirred when Alwyn took the necklace from him. When the fox returned it moments later, he wriggled under the blankets a little deeper, pulling them up over his shoulders in his sleep.

- - -

Out in the hallway, a nurse came by to Swift. "Mr. Fairpaws? Would you like to see your brother now? He's resting comfortably, and we'd like him to get all the rest he can... But we figured you'd like to be in the room with him when he wakes."

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail nodded gently, pushing himself up from the fine chair that had felt far too polished for his soot-stained fur. He followed the nurse down the hushed corridor and into the room, the faint scent of herbs and clean linen heavy in the air.

He barely noticed the elegant furnishings. His eyes went straight to the cot. Finn lay there curled around a pillow, small frame rising and falling in steady rhythm beneath the blanket. Crossing the floor with careful steps, Swifttail lowered himself beside the kit and set a paw softly on his head, stroking between the ears in a quiet, reassuring motion.

It was only after a moment that his gaze lifted. The larger bed opposite was not empty. Alwyn was awake, his presence unexpected. Swifttail blinked and straightened slightly, ears flicking back in embarrassment.

"Oh! Excuse me! I’m sorry to intrude…"

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

As he sat shaking next to the Finnian, the door opened, and Alwyn’s head snapped towards whoever it was-nurse or, Kitsune forbid, his mother. He was seriously not in the mood to deal with the latter at the moment, and while he loved nurses, he was not at all in his usual mood to play around with them. Instead, though, a platinum fox entered, and a look of confusion briefly crossed his visage, his Guard instincts to retain a stoic face lessened by the emotional shock he was still in. Luckily, though, the other todd did not seem to notice him, being more laser-focused on Finnian, and he searched his mind for where he had seen him before as he did look familiar.

The cart!

Still, though, it was odd that he was here, and, even more unusual that he came over and softly put his paw on Finnian’s head. Was he some kind of older friend of the kit? Or a member of the Hide’s crew? He had watched quite a few of them depart before his father had left the ship, but there were many he had not seen. While the other todd’s attention was focused on the injured patient, Alwyn took the moment to collect himself and stop his shaking-for the most part-and return some semblance of a poker face to his expression.

When the todd looked up, Alwyn was able to meet his eyes with his and he spoke, shaking his head.

“No, you did not intrude, in fact, I am thankful you are here. Without your quick actions, Finnian and I may not be here, or if we were, would be in much worse shape from the fall. I thank you most humbly.”

Alwyn bowed his head towards the platinum fox in the traditional Fyadoran fashion, then lifted them and spoke a bit more softly to as to not disturb the young, injured kit.

“I am Sir Alwyn Ryalor, son of Duke Talinn Ryalor and Duchess Dusk Ryalor, and Lieutenant of the Stoatorian Guard. If there is any favor you need in the future, come to me, and I shall see it done if it is in my power. I owe you a great debt.”

He paused, taking a breath before continuing.

“My apologies, I forgot to ask your name and your relationship to Finnian here. You are…?”

@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail’s ears twitched upright as the other fox spoke words of gratitude weighted with rank and poise. His paw lingered on Finn’s head a moment longer before he slowly drew it back, eyes widening as the name settled in his ears. Ryalor. The breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to be standing in front of nobility tonight, much less being thanked by them.

"Oh… er… g’day," he stammered, tail flicking nervously behind him. "T’wasn’t nothin’. I was just in the right place, I s’pose. B…but thankee, sir. I… I graciously accept."

The words tumbled out clumsy, but sincere. It seems he had not only carted a very important fox to safety... but he’d also helped save a Lieutenant of the Guard, and the very son of his former captain and Minister of Innovation?. Not something he’d imagined when he rolled from his cot this morning.

His gaze softened as he looked down again at Finn, sleeping soundly beneath the blanket. "Oh! Finny! I was crewmates wit’ him, under yer father, the Duke, on the Urk expedition. We’re close friends."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn took the time to steady himself further, glancing at the platinum fox, before back to the sleeping Finnian. He had been on that fateful expedition to that hellish island? What had his father been thinking, to let a kit so young…?

...But you began your training as a warrior at the age of nine, did you not? In keeping with the traditions of Fyador. Still…

“So you know him well, then? Did he account for himself well, there? Is he a good kit?” Alwyn asked, managing to keep his voice neutral, likely already knowing the answer, but inwardly he was afraid. Afraid that somehow, his blood, that of the Rainblades and of the Ryalors, had somehow polluted the young foxkit’s soul.

@SwifttailTheFox

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail’s paw lingered on the kit’s blanket, smoothing it absently while he thought how best to answer. He lifted his eyes back to Alwyn, ears folding a little at the weight behind the Lieutenant’s question.

"Aye, I know him well. Truth be told, he weren’t signed on proper at first… He was a stow away. We’d been sailin’ more’n two weeks when he was found, so there was no sendin’ him back. Cap’n Talinn could’ve had him thrown in the brig... or worse, overboard, but he showed mercy. Took him on as crew instead, set him t’learn under Surgeon Barrett."

He gave a small nod, tone softening with respect. "Shows the kind o’ beast yer father is, sir. He saw somethin’ worth savin’ in Finn, an’ gave him a place. The kit’s worked hard ever since, standin’ his ground through Urk and everythin’ else we faced. Accounted for himself right well, too. He’s a good kit. Better than most, if ye ask me."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

It took every bit of his remaining willpower and training to not visibly react to what the other todd was saying, though internally he was a typhoon of emotions. A stowaway? Why? Annabelle was many things, and he had not seen her for over a decade, but abusive, or letting her own kit be abused…? Letting him willingly join the Navy, knowing the risks? No, that did not fit her character. Had he done it for the adventure? But if that was the case, why had his father had him sign a naval contract? His father was a selfish, cold bastard, but even he was above impressing a mere kit, no matter how bad the shortages of beastpower might be. At least, if there was still something of the beast that he remembered from his earliest days left in him.

Annabelle would not have let him be in a random, rundown building in the Slups either. Was she sick...or…?

No, no, best not to rush to conclusions, there were many reasons. He finished listening to the rest of what the fox had to say, and felt both parts relief, confusion, and anxiety. He seemed to be a good kit, then, but “standing his ground” on Urk? What in the ‘Gates? Had had been on the front lines with barely any training? What kind of nightmare had that mission been?

“Yes, my father certainly has a ‘unique’ character, as does my mother…” Alwyn replied wryly “...but it is good to hear that he has been a good kit. Did he happen to speak of his family and from where he came, by any chance? Oh, and I do not mean to be so insistent, but for somebeast who helped me so, I would still like to know your name, so that I might repay you.”

@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail’s paw smoothed once more over the blanket at Finn’s shoulder before he realized he hadn’t answered the simplest thing first. His ears twitched, and he straightened a little, offering an apologetic dip of his head.

"Ah...aye, sorry, sir. I’m Todd Fairpaws… but I go by Swifttail informally"

His gaze drifted back to the sleeping kit, muzzle tightening. The other question lingered between them, heavier than the smoke had been. He sat with it a moment, ears folding back, as if the silence might spare him from saying what he knew. But Alwyn’s eyes were steady, and there was no escaping it.

"As for his kin… aye, he spoke of ‘em. Said his father was lost in the Ambleside’s sinking. An’ his mother… she fell ill after. Got worse an’ worse ‘til one day she didn’t wake at all."

He let the words hang, quiet but certain. His paw gave the blanket one last smoothing stroke, as if the small motion could soften the truth.

"He’s been on his own since then. The Hide’s crew became his family. Barrett, meself… an’ Cap’n Talinn gave him a place. He’s carried that weight better’n most grown beasts I’ve met."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn listened to Swifttail, carefully keeping an eye on Finnian as he did so, trying his best to keep his composure, even as the anxiety began to melt its way through all of his training. Then, the feared hammer hit him, and the normally stoic todd immediately grabbed the top sheet off of Finnian, and pulled it to himself as he visibly choked upon hearing “she did not wake at all”. She was dead. Annabelle was dead. Tears started to form in his eyes, concealed by the blanket which he was stuffing his entire face into, as he heard that Finnian had been alone, for all those years, having to fend by himself on the streets. Had he walked by him on his patrols, none the wiser, his own son, thinking him just another one of the many orphans? What troubles had his son gone through, crying out for a father who was never there for him? He wanted to vomit-he was like his own father, no, worse than his own father. The old todd had barely been around, but he had tried, when he had been. Finnian, meanwhile, had been all alone.

My boy…my poor boy...and…

He had to force back the vile in his throat as he shook and hid his face from Swifttail. A guardsbeast could not show such emotion, especially in front of strangers. Already, he was thinking of excuses for the behavior-a bad reaction to the medicine, some delayed injury from the fire. He just hoped the other todd would not press him too hard. He was close to breaking.

@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail shifted uneasily, ears tipping back as he watched the older fox bury his face in the blanket. His own eyes flicked from Alwyn’s trembling shoulders, to the sleeping kit, and down to the floorboards, unsure where it was decent to look. He hadn’t meant to cut so deep.

"I… I’m sorry," he murmured, voice low, almost swallowed by the hush of the room. "I didn’t think… I didn’t mean t’cause you hurt like that."

He drew his paw back to his lap instead, folding it tight in the other, afraid of worsening the wound he’d already opened.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The nurses had given Finn a mild sedative to help him rest. Between his fatigue from the recent expedition to Urk and the exhaustion from fighting to breathe, it didn't take much for him to pass out for several hours. He barely even stirred as Swift came over to fondle his ears -- the only sign of life being gentle breathing, and the occasional ear flick. The blanket being stolen, however, roused the kit.

"Mmmfffh!" he whimpered, curling slightly beneath the sheets. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed at his face with his paws. The kit had been freshly washed, and was dressed in a clean hospital gown -- and despite the sleepiness, was a picture of health.

The world came rushing back to him at an unpleasant speed. Swift was there, and a smile flickered on his muzzle, before he turned and saw Alwyn's broad shoulders trembling.

The house.

The fire.

Cricket.

Whatever cheer he had fled him. He'd done a terrible thing, and the consequences would be around the corner. Would they let him back on the Hide? Would he be sent to prison? Tears welled in his eyes at the thought. He'd never see his friends again.

He opened his muzzle to try and make an apology, but the words wouldn't come. He looked questioningly at Alwyn -- who seemed to have bandages about his body. He was such a brave, strapping todd... What on earth had caused this? Merely seeing him wracked with such grief was more than he could bear -- and the tears spilled silently down his face.

Turning, Finn slipped out of bed, and quietly crossed to Alwyn. He swallowed nervously, before timidly giving a soft tug on his gown.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

There was a knock at the door to the private room. A moment later it opened, admitting a well-dressed vixen in what the charitable referred to as 'the golden years', and which the less kind might call middle age. The resemblance to Alwyn was immediately apparent; despite his strong resemblance to his father, there was something about the shape of the eyes and the slant of the bridge of his snout that linked him to his mother. Her eyes immediately went to Alwyn, sweeping over him in an obsessive check for any obvious wounds; only when she was satisfied with her inspection did she turn her gaze upon the two other foxes in the room, one gray-furred and vaguely familiar (perhaps one of the crew when her husband had come back into port?), the other young and scrappy. For a moment Dusk's mind flashed back to Alwyn at that age, so eager, active, and prone to trouble, especially when he didn't mean to cause any. Her gaze softened for a moment at the reverie, then turned it back to the todd himself. Prone to trouble indeed.

"My apologies for interrupting, gentletodds," she remarked, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, her pawfingers interlacing and resting on her stomach as she examined the trio. "The hospital staff was kind enough to alert me when my son was admitted, given he seems to be making a habit of it. I heard something about a fire this time?" She raised an eyebrow at this. "Honestly, Alwyn, if this is another of your little games gone awry, it's in poor taste. Our finances and reputation are still recovering from the Chestnut Incident."

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had leaned forward when Finn stirred, a smile tugging at the corners of his muzzle at the kit’s sleepy look. Relief washed through him, until Finn’s eyes filled with tears and the boy slipped from the cot. Swift’s paw half-lifted in instinct, but he stopped himself. If Finn wanted to go to Alwyn, that was where he belonged right now.

The knock at the door made his ears flick. He turned just as the vixen entered, and his breath caught. The resemblance to Alwyn was clear, but he didn’t need it, the way the staff had straightened outside told him all he needed to know. This older vixen was Duchess Dusk Rainblade of Westisle. The Minister of Misanthropy herself.

He straightened in his chair at once, paws pressing tight against his knees. For once, words failed him. Her gaze swept over them and Swifttail suddenly felt like a coal-smudged intruder sitting in a family's living room.

"G’day, m’lady," he managed at last, dipping his head respectfully. He dared not say more, not with her words hanging so sharp in the air. Still, he waited politely, even as his tail curled in tight against his chair.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn tried every technique he had been taught to maintain his calm, but the combined shock of both revelations would have sent any beast over the edge. He was indeed shaking, and through the blanket, the tears fell freely. Soon enough, there was a knock on the door and he was forced to remove his wet eyes to glance up at the arrival. It was his mother, and, sure enough, she made a quippy remark as was her nature, but he did not have the energy to come up with a rebuttal. He just gave her a pained look, before he felt a tug on his gown. He turned again, to see Finnian, likewise in tears, before him, and instinctively grabbed the little foxkit, pulling him towards his chest protectively and letting him snuggle up to him, and relief washed over him as he did so. He was here, now. His father was here.

“I’m so glad you are all right…” Alwyn choked, his voice barely above a whisper.

@FinnianBrightfur @SwifttailTheFox @Dusk Rainblade

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn waited patiently for Alwyn to respond to him. The todd needed a moment, anyone could see that -- but the wait was unbearable. Every second, Finn felt worse and worse for what he'd done. Gates... had he injured somoene else?

At the sound of the door, Finn whipped around with a guilty look on his face. Frozen with fright, he looked directly at Dusk, and then to Swift -- and the only thing he could possibly imagine was that she was a Captain of the Fogeys, come to arrest him. Strangely though, she seemed to be more concerned with Alwyn, perhaps even laying the blame on him.

Finn leapt to his defense. "It weren't him, miss, it was all--"

Before Finn could finish, strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him off his hindpaws. Finn didn't have to look, he knew who it was. The kit caught a glimpse of Alwyn's face full of tears, before throwing his arms around the older todd's neck. He opened his muzzle to say something, but the words didn't come. All he could do is hold on tightly, and soak Alwyn's ruff with silent tears.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk nodded in acknowledgement of the gray fox's polite, deferential greeting, looking over him once more as she tried and failed to definitively place him among her husband's recent crew. She'd looked over the manifest when he'd come back injured, of course, and made note of a few very interesting names (the daughters of two separate traitors to Misanthropy and the crown was a very interesting development indeed), but this wasn't one that had stood out as particularly troublesome, at least not that she could recall.

Alwyn's behavior, however, was troubling in how much of a break it was from his usual demeanor. Dusk was used to surly, resentful, even rude or snide when he was truly irritated with her intervention; this complete ignoring of her in favor of embracing the youth, however, left her flummoxed. She hadn't seen him cling to anything so tightly since he was a little kit holding onto his teddy fox and silently crying as his mother left home yet again to go do things he couldn't understand. A part of her heart panged with guilt at the memories; she knew how much damage her absence had done to them both, and those were wounds that she could never fully mend for them, much as she might desire it.

Her eyes turned to the kit, and her brows furrowed. She remembered what both her sons had looked like at that age; even with her in and out of Alwyn and Alexei's life, the image of her kits' faces remained ingrained indelibly on her mind. This kit wasn't the spitting image of either, but there were similarities there that were enough to concern her.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. There were two possible explanations she could think of, neither of which she particularly wanted to consider. She knew about her husband's infidelity, at least in one aspect; she also knew exactly what, and who, had come of that. If there were more vixens that she somehow hadn't been aware of, ones from even before that incident... Well, there were ways she could make her husband's life even more miserable than his current woeful circumstances. The other possibility involved Alwyn, and, based on the apparent age of this kit, while not physically impossible, was certainly enough to make her a bit queasy as a mother. I swear, I should have locked him in a box until he was past the teenage years.

"Alwyn dear," she inquired, "is there something you need to tell me? Perhaps in private?" If either of her suspicions were correct, this was going to be very messy for the whole family.