Open The Docks Sibling Sojourn

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

“So this is it, then.”

Lorcan’s statement was notably devoid of opinion beneath his words as the small vessel nosed its way into the Imperium’s harbour. Truly, he could not make sense of it. It was certainly impressive in scale for a fox who had only visited the odd village or town: the ships were immense, the dockside a bustling heave of busy creatures, and the entire place thrumming with the rhythm of a life he had never known. However, it all seemed somewhat…underwhelming in its simplicity. The fox hadn’t been entirely certain of what he’d expected Bully Harbour to feel like, but now he felt decidedly stupid: of course it would be like anywhere else but much larger.

The weather was noticeably cooler, though. His ears twitched as vagrant breezes stirred his fur, dark eyes scanning the quay in silent assessment. Finding work was going to be the priority and stubbornness in him was determined to see if he could do so without coasting on the reputations of his parents. Considering how well previous employment had gone, however, the prospects weren’t likely fantastic. Still, a city this size would at least mean he’d never be short of options.

Turning to look down at his sister whilst the ship prepared for disembarkation, Lorcan shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m not daft thinking this isn’t…exactly what I expected, am I?”

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

Though Kinza maintained a mask of nonchalance, learnt over years of putting up with prankster parentage, her own feelings were a contrast to her sibling's. The noise and chaos of the harbour swelled within her, a calling she had felt all her life. Whatever disappointments her eyes told her of the grime and unsavoury characters they had walked among, seeing the fabled ship made it shine true gold. It was only a ship, and yet it felt like long lost family. She gave Lorcan an affectionate sneer.​

"Yer always daft. I expect it's never expected to be what we expected. We signing up or wot?"

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

A noncommittal grunt followed her question for it was as good as rhetorical to Lorcan. Stooping only to grab one of the packs they had brought, he shouldered the bundle along with his bow and gestured for Kinza to lead on down the gangplank. The colour (or what felt like a lack of it) and the abundance of scent hit Lorcan first, though his impassive features did little to betray his shock. Fresh air was going to be in short supply until they were able to get aboard the Hide, then.

In passing he flashed a grizzled weasel wrangling with cabling from the ship a polite smile, receiving only a baffled stare in return. The weasel shook his head as Lorcan passed, something akin to pity in his eyes as he atched the beast go. Big lad or not, he was going to learn that wherever he’d come from was a world apart: smiling at strangers in the Imperium was an immediate invitation for a muzzle full of the Slups’ finest slop, a few missing fangs and lighter pockets. Ah well, youngsters had to learn some time; preferably as far from himself as possible.

His free paw scratched the back of his neck, nose wrinkling as dark eyes roved across the various buildings at the harbour. “S’pposed to be some sort of office or other we need to sign in as citizens, ain’t there? You’d not think a place like this’d care about that sort of order.”

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

There was one building in particular, viewable once a stalled cart finally passed by with its goods bound for Zann's Backyard- a squat old office of cheap wood and stone with a rugged sign above its door-
"BULLY HARBOR WELCOME CENTER."
If entered, the inside would be revealed to be a stuffy, muggy waiting room dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the windows and a lantern hanging in the corner.
Paintings in cheap Contemporary-style frames hung on the walls, one of ships lining the Imperial Docks, one of the unwelcoming Ministry of Justice building, another of the Golden Hide at sea... the most prominent painting of all hung in a place of honor directly above the long counter separating the desks and their busy, tired-looking clerks from the waiting room.
This most prominent painting in a more expensive Baroque frame depicted a pretty vixen in a flowy, fetching blue dress, posing with a look of regality and dominion on her sharp face and bold pose, clasping a scepter in one paw and a globe in the other.
Beneath it were inscribed the words- "OUR MOST GLORIOUS EMPRESS AMÉLIE I LONG MAY SHE REIGN."
A very bored-looking rat with round spectacles sat at the long counter, tapping a dry quill rhythmically against a thick stack of papers.
A couple scowling ferrets and a very anxious-looking mouse sat in some of the various chairs.
At one of the desks in the back, a ferret clerk and a family of monitor lizards spoke in low voices as the ferret slowly explained something, oozing disdain.
A banner of the three crossed Fogey truncheons also hung draped on the wall facing the door, and all the clerks wore gray Fogey uniforms and black berets and carried truncheons on their belts.

 

[Soren Selsenick]

A brawny, middle-aged stoat with dark brown fur and a black-tipped tail paced behind the three Fogey clerks, attired in the same uniform, but with dual silver batons affixed to each shoulder instead of their single or dual bronze ones. He appeared exhausted, with bags under his eyes and fur more than a little frayed, but each step was still purposeful and disciplined. Squad Captain Selsenick still kept to his duty despite being nearly sixty hours into his extended shift, necessitated by the severe manpower shortages the Fogeys had, especially in the higher ranks. The Revolutions of 1748, the Imperial Civil War, and the creation of the Ministry of Justice and expansion of the Fogeys to all corners of the Imperium had not only resulted in manpower shortages, but in stretching the veteran Fogeys of the Harbor to their breaking point. Truth be told, he would have preferred to have simply stayed a sergeant, with more action and less responsibility, but the Ministry had needed him and the increased salary could one day, with wise investments, be enough to marry his young son into or buy him a commission that could lead him into the lower ranks of the gentry.

‘Tis all we need, just one of us to make it there, and so many more opportunities would open up for us. So no matter how arduous or boring these shifts may be, I’ll do it for little Eldi.

Suppressing a yawn, the Captain went to his desk behind the three clerks, and sat down, glancing over the latest reports. There had been quite an increase of new arrivals in the Harbor in the last year, both Imperial and foreign, and while the job at the Welcome Center was not glamorous, it was important. Citizens could get their official documents here, aliens could become citizens or denizens if they wished through various means, and more than a few recruitment officers from the various Ministries liked to stop in to offer an expedited path to becoming an official subject of her majesty through service. Technically speaking, he was the Ministry of Justice’s recruiter here at the moment, although it was a source of more than a little frustration getting beasts to sign up, even with the pay and benefits offered, because of the fierce competition from both the private and public sectors. Back in the early 1730s when he had started as a bushy-tailed cadet, it was a privilege to even get an interview, but nowadays thanks to the labor shortage even with all the Empress’s efforts to integrate a wide variety of beasts, the tables had turned and he almost had to beg beasts to sign up.

He sighed. At least there was peace, for now, maintained by the Fogeys, although the incident a few months back where the Minister Ryalor was almost assassinated had been profoundly embarrassing, and he had no doubt the Minister of Justice’s visit to Amarone following that had not been pleasant. But what else could they have done…? There were only so many Fogeys and countless criminals and malcontents, and was it not Misanthropy that had dropped the ball there? Shaking his head, he decided to let beasts in upper management deal with the fallout of that. For now, there were more documents to look over, to sign, and send, the citizenship and denizen papers making their way into the labyrinthine archives of the all of the Ministries and Amarone, each scrutinizing their copies to see if these new beasts could be of use to them.

@Lorcan Rainclaw @Kinza Rainclaw

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

Fortunately for Kinza, she kept her niceties in reserve, which meant the passing weasel got a narrow-eyed scowl for snubbing her brother. She nodded and hmmed regarding the office, which they soon discovered on their path.

She had to admit, this place was a little less impressive than she’d had in mind. It took effort not to wrinkle her nose at the picture of the Empress, far more interested in those of ships. Here where the clerks looked overworked she could appreciate the freedom of the shores she had left. But they had been so dull. A young vixen of her age and ambition needed more than waiting around for excitement to find her.

Seeing Fogeys was a novelty. Kutoroka and its neighbours were not policed, small enough that tribes saw to their own defence and justice. Dangerous perhaps in this modernising world, but her family had helped bring a little technology their way.

Kinza approached one of the desks along with Lorcan. Unease crawled through her fur. Was she expected to have papers? She hoped it was as simple as her father had made it sound to sign up for the Navy. He’d as much as stumbled onboard and inked a pawprint. That had been a long time ago, however.

“Morrow to ye, sir. Rainclaw and Rainclaw, if ye please. Here for positions at sea.”

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

The bell above the door tinkled, then stopped tinkling as it got caught in the fur of the beast trying to squeeze below it. The beast had to turn herself sideways, shimmying to try to get through a doorway not built for someone of her truly impressive fluff. Red fur, a deeper shade than most foxes by far, poofed impressively into splashes of white on the cheeks, eyes, and eyebrows, with dark triangular ears framing similarly pale tufts. As absolutely prolific as the fur on her face was, the rest of her body had apparently forced all of its padding and insulation into a seafoam green pantsuit over a leather corset (sized perhaps for a badger) that was tied up with yellow ribbon. A thick, straight tail, not unlike the mooring pillars that lined the edge of a dock, stood up behind her, dark rings running down its length. Just visible on her back was a leather pack apparently reinforced with a steel frame and straps that could have been used to harness a team of sharks to pull a ship at sea, while a massive golden scabbard and ornate golden hilt hinted at a dueling blade that was far more ostentatious than any beast could ever need.

The beast managed to extract the captive bell from her headfur, then patted it anxiously to make sure everything was still in one piece before she ventured into the room. The door slowly swung shut behind her as she fished in one pocket of her coat and pulled out a thin, dog-eared volume: The Beginner's (Yes, YOU!) Guide to the Imperium by Anithias A. Freedom, first edition. Anxiously she pawed through the volume, looking up at the signs above the desks and cross-referencing what her guidebook said, before she approached one of the desks.

"Halu!" Her voice was surprisingly high-pitched, full-bodied, and undeniably musical at the same time; she sounded as if she had swallowed and was speaking through a clarinet. "I a'm Pomodu lu Modokunomulo. I co'me to see di Valupin'sula." She glanced at her book again, consulting something written in the margins for reference before making an excessively obscene gesture, pointer and pinky fingers up, ring and middle fingers touching her thumb. "Go s'tu'ff yer tai'lu," she stated, laboring over the phrase as if it were a greeting of great importance.

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

Being surrounded by so many uniforms, no matter how weary those wearing them appeared, set Lorcan somewhat on edge. He was likewise increasingly uneasy at the realisation they may well require papers, though his focus was more on the manner of beast behind the desk than the practicalities. With law enforcement scarce in his childhood, it was difficult to deny the natural curiosity which came at the sight of berets and badges of rank. It was all rather slick, if tired.

Speaking of tired…The poor higher-ranking stoat behind the clerks seemed pretty much done with the day already; the fox had to wonder what sort of life it was to be stuck indoors all day processing the same paperwork for hours at a time. Still, personal opinions didn’t much matter: he just needed to behave himself until they were cleared. Arms folded behind his back, Lorcan stood back and attempted to maintain the most neutral, polite demeanour possible whilst he let Kinza handle the talking.

That was until the doorbell tinkled and the rustling behind finally caused him to turn.

Lorcan stared. He blinked, then stared again. This wasn’t even to speak of how his brush had puffed up. The stranger was like nothing he had ever seen, but more than that she was taller. She was like no beast he’d ever seen or known before; the way she seemed to be relying on that little book of hers made him wonder if she felt the same. His ears flattened at once, visibly uncomfortable as he followed her progress to another of the desks and the resulting murmurs her gesture (and comment) caused.

In the stunned silence which followed, Lorcan burst into a harsh cackle.

 

[Soren Selsenick]

The tired-looking rat clerk, who was approaching the end of her own twelve her shift, looked up in something between amusement and awe at the massive...thing...coming towards her. Closing her eyes, she opened and them wiped them, as if to check if she was seeing some kind of delusion due to overwork, but the massive creature remained. Looking up at the strange being, Sara was about to reply before the beast effectively told her to go stuff herself, both in gesture and language, as if she were too stupid to understand the implication in one form. Shooting out of her desk, she grabbed her truncheon from her belt, preparing to raise it and battle the beast. She did not care about their size difference, she was going to teach this weirdo a lesson and then have them hauled off to a cell if she had her way!

But just as she was preparing to strike, she was interpreted by a loud, booming, authoritative voice.

“Cadet Sara, what in the hells do you think are you are doing? Stand down!” roared the Squad Captain, in a bitter mood due to both the exhaustion creeping in to every limb and pore of his body and the fact that he had not eaten in twelve hours.

“Sir, this...thing...told me to-”

“I do not give a damn what the beast called you, you will follow orders or I will have you thrown into prison for insubordination, are we clear Cadet Sara? Now, sit down, and begin the processing paperwork.”

The rat stiffened, gave her Captain a salute, put her weapon back at and, still glowering at the creature, began to write up the standing processing form. Selsenick, sighing, came forward to stand next to her desk, eyeing up the massive beast before him. A red “pan-dah”, from the mysterious lands to the west of Fyador. They were rare, having only appeared since the reign of the Empress and the restoration and expansion of the Imperial Navy securing the waters near Westisle enough to finally allow western traders to have a better chance of making it to the Imperium without sinking or being killed by pirates, but were coming with an increasing frequency, and an advisory had been given out to watch for them. He had not seen one for over ten months, and most new recruits and even quite a few seasoned Fogeys still did not even comprehend their existence, so they always ended up causing trouble whether they intended to or not. He just hoped...her?...Vulpinsulan was manageable.

Taking a curious look at the title of the book, he struggled to suppress a groan. It was that book yet again. Despite the Ryalors trying to stamp out its production due to their hatred of Anithias, and the Ministry of Niceties trying to promote a more accurate version, it still remained extremely popular with foreigners, either out of ignorance or because the beasts of the Imperium loved to play tricks on them as an introduction to Imperial culture. If he had to guess quite a portion of the assaults and murders that occurred in the Harbor were because of that one book.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke, each word slowly and painfully coming out of his mouth. Speaking it was like chewing through glass for him, and he knew it would be perhaps half-effective at best, but hopefully it got the point across.

“Wǒ wèi tā de xíngwéi dàoqiàn, dànshì nǐ nà běn shū bù tài zhǔnquè, nǐ jièyì wǒmen yòng mǔyǔ jiāotán, yǐbiàn wǒ jiěshì ma?*” he barely managed, looking up at the big beast apologetically and hoping he got at least maybe a tenth of that right. He had an instructor who supposedly had spent some time in the far west, but he had always gotten the feeling that the Imperium just grabbed whoever even had the slightest knowledge of the language and told them to make it work somehow when it came to meeting rare beasts and cultures. The amount of true linguists in the Imperium were few. Damn it, if only that Ryalor fox who occasionally came around looking for new recruits were here, he would know more, surely? His family was from there and surely would have run into these "pan-dahs" more often, right?

* "My apologies for her behavior, but that book you have is not very accurate, do you mind if we talk in our native language so I can explain?"

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu's eyes widened at the raise of the truncheon, flinching back and looking about, wide-eyed and clearly baffled by the response. As the captain switched into Hanshiman, her eyes widened in confusion, but she responded in kind. "Duibuqi," she responded, speaking slowly, "wo shuo hanshiyu shuo de bu tai hao. Wo xihuan shuo falanjiyayu."* Whatever her native tongue was, it clearly was close enough to Hanshiman for her to have learned the language at some point, even if it wasn't her best.

She switched back to Vulpinsulan, which, while far more heavily accented than her Hanshiman, she seemed to be more comfortable speaking - or at least was desperate to use. "I no un'deh'sa'nu," she stated, the confusion on her face. "I say go s'tu'ff yer tai'lu. Di'su i'su po'lai'teh Vuhpinisulanu, no?"

*"I'm sorry, I don't speak Hanshiman very well. I like to speak Vulpinsulan."

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

Time seemed to pass in slow motion as Kinza turned to watch the strange creature squeeze into the office, the fox’s eyes following the red panda’s journey. The moment she heard the unintentional insult, Kinza’s nose flared, her lips pursed, and her cheeks puffed as if she’d swallowed a chili. This was her attempt not to laugh, which her brother failed miserably. She clamped a paw over her muzzle and elbowed Lorcan.

This turned out to perhaps be a wise move as a Fogey captain began shouting at the insulted clerk and then proceeded to speak to the new beast in a language she didn’t much recognise. She might have heard it before from a passing trader back home. At least hopefully the Rainclaws weren’t going to have as tricky a time of it.

“So anyway, mister,” she said to their own clerk. “We’d be grateful if ye’d consider us somewhere around able seabeasts, as we can prove we ‘ave some knowledge around a ship.” They didn’t have paws-on experience with a galleon, but that could be need-to-know. “Iffen that’s not the way things work and we need to sign on as swabbies, ‘tis fair, isn’ it, Lor?”​

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

Though it took him considerably longer to regain control of his laugher, the todd took his sister’s advice to shut up as best he could. He made some small attempt to smother the sound with a further cough, though there was little point in manners now.

At the very least this stranger had broken the uneasy tension, and wary though he was of her it was appreciated; the formality of this process was weighing on Lorcan. “Hm? Oh, aye, all fair,” he mumbled distractedly. Had he been more focused it may have proven awkward, for the concept of working as a swabbie was doubtless going to sit ill with him later. “That bein’ said we did have a ship in mind, didn’t we?”

Initially he had been content to let Kinza handle the paperwork, but now he was barely listening. Half-turned from the clerk at the desk, he continued to regard the new creature and the stoat with open curiosity as the languages switched backwards and forwards. Hanshiman meant little to him save for the occasional hasty conversations overheard over the years, but it added more context to this beast’s struggle. In fact, her latest query caused him to spin directly around with a strangled "'Gates", paw clutched firmly over his own snout as his shoulders shook. Were it not so blasted funny he’d almost feel bad for her.

 

[Soren Selsenick]

The stoat breathed a sigh of relief under his breath as the “pan-dah” began to speak a heavily accented but at least somewhat understandable Vulpinsulan, which was good because he had caught maybe a tenth of what she said in reply, and seemed to be in a state of confusion rather than anger. That was good, considering her massive size and the weapon on her back. They could have taken her, maybe, depending on how good she was with that, and in the smaller confines of the office, but Soren never liked to fight unless he had to. Not out of any moral sense, as he loved beating down lawbreakers like any other Fogey, but because if you did not pick your fights as one, you did not make it to his age.

“That book…” He said slowly, and politely, hoping she would understand. “...is...quite outdated, and, the vernacular has changed. While ‘Stuff your tail’ might have been a polite greeting back in the 1720s, it is quite…obscene...now. It was, after all, written almost forty years ago. If you wish, you can purchase a much improved and updated version approved by the Ministry of Misanthropy and Niceties…”

He glanced again at the massive weapon at her back.

“...or, you know what, Cadet Sara can pay for it out of her week’s salary. I am sure she would not want to get a reputation as being unwelcoming to our new ‘friends’ arriving from all corners of the world.”

Selsenick gave a disarming smile towards the panda, then shifted it into a hard one looking at Sara, who opened her mouth as if to protest, before shutting it.

“Now, what do you preferred to be called…?” He asked politely.

**************

An exhausted young tawny-colored ferret with reading glasses, who had been watching the whole scenario with Sara and the Captain, suppressed a laugh and shook his head. He had been there longer than her, being a constable, and had run into his fair share of similar greetings. Even now, three decades after his death, the former Mayor was still causing problems daily, proving that, much like his “lit-er-rat-ure” club said, immortality could be obtained by the pen.

Turning back to the two foxes, a diminutive vixen, and quite a big todd, he sized both of them up before replying. They looked healthy, comparatively well-groomed, and gave off a relaxed and competent sort of vibe. Giving both of them a nod, he took out two forms and dabbed his quill before replying.

“Traditionally, you would be tested by the captain of whichever ship you wished to sign up for who would then determine your appropriate rank either by his or her own discretion, or after some tests,” he replied, voice tired ",but you can also head over to the Ministry of War building, or speak to one of their representatives who occasionally come in here. We have had some new eager fox come in occasionally from the Stoatorian Guard trying to snap up whoever he can, but he has also directed beasts to the Navy and helped them with the paperwork. One of them Ryalors, although I could not tell you which one. A lot of them running around these days, it seems, but a nice enough fellow, if a little proud of his tail. Is that some kind of fox thing?"

He paused, sitting back a little. “Do you have an idea of which ship you would like to sign up for?”

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

At the mention of an updated book, Pomodu brightened up considerably. "I buy!" she exclaimed, unslinging a large backpack that, on her, still managed to look comically undersized. She reached in and, finding what she was searching for, pulled out a large ingot of solid gold, stamped with the seal of some far distant kingdom, and slapped it down on the desk. The sheer value of the ingot likely matched the annually accumulated wealth of the entire Slups, which, while not impressive in comparison to the districts around it, was still more money than anyone in the room had likely ever seen in their lives.

 

[Kinza Rainclaw]

After smirking back at her brother, Kinza paid attention to the clerk again and listened. The tip of the vixen's tail flicked at the idea of being tested, though her indignation was mixed with her confidence at proving herself. I'll show any o' this rabble that I'm up to scratch, Bully you watch. Hearing of the Ministry of War was an immediate fascination, for that was where her mother had been based when she had lived here. What Kinza wanted, however, was to sail, to know what it was to be part of a family adventuring for riches and quests, ideally alongside her brother. The call of the sea was in her blood and, even if only for now, she refused to deny its pull.

She had slightly zoned out after that until a passing mention of 'Ryalor', half the name of her step-siblings and once held by her mum. So, there was still distant family around here. Could be an advantage, could be a danger. Then the ferret was saying something about tail pride, which earned a flat, humourless stare from Kinza.

"Aye, as me brother just alluded, we're fair taken with The Golden Hide. If there's room aboard we're here to enlist with her."

Her treasure senses tingled suddenly, which was to say she sensed and heard an awed and greedy hush in the office that drew her eyes across to Pomodu and more importantly the gold bar she had produced. Flamin' Vulpuz's knickers!

 

[Lorcan Rainclaw]

Like his sister Lorcan reflected, when it was mentioned, the presence of Ryalors in the city and what it might mean for himself and Kinza. He was less concerned with safety or practicalities: more was his curiosity as to their own office and what opportunities lay at their paws. Unwilling as he was to leverage their legacy just yet, some connections might at least be a footpaw in the door to grant them adventure. Ambition did not come into it for the todd. Part of him also decided that before they set sail he wanted to wander past this Ministry of War building, at least the once. Maybe Commerce too. It would be interesting to see the offices of his parents; know what they had abandoned.

The high good humour this strange, large beast had instilled in Lorcan proved at least to temper his ire when the ferret spoke of foxes. Turning back to the desk his own stare proved more openly hostile than that of Kinza’s, though the laughter enabled him to hold his tongue before the impulsive threats could spill forth. Still, they rattled in his mind.

Avaricious gasps drew his attention back to the next desk over and Lorcan stared, once more slack-jawed at this beast’s oblivious nature. Was this some sort of test for the new arrivals? Had he had sense to listen to caution he might have taken that idea more seriously. Leaning down to place the heavy bag at his footpaws, he used the opportunity to mumble to his sister when his muzzle was near her ear. “You could charge ‘er a fortune to fix that ridiculous clothin’, eh?”

Straightening back up with a polite cough, the tall fox gave the middle-aged stoat dealing with the beast what he hoped was a sympathetic look, a willing assistant if called upon – but unwilling to compromise his own application unless asked.

 

[Soren Selsenick]

Mother of the Empress! ​

Soren stared for a moment in disbelief at the gold ingot that this “pan-dah” presented to him, countless lifetime’s worth of his salary, as if it were merely pocket change. As he looked at her oversized paw, he saw many possibilities flash before his eyes. He could take the ingot, hand her the book, walk out of here, grab his family, and book passage for the next ship to Alkamar, wealthier now than he ever would be if he worked another thousand, no, ten thousand of these shifts. All he had to do was reach out, grab it from the funny-looking creature, and he could retire for the rest of his days and set his kits, even grandkits, up as at least petite nobility. Just one pawstroke away.

Then, he glanced around at the rest of the office. Every single beast had stopped what they were doing to stare at it, including the beasts under his command. They, too, were likely thinking the same thing. He was skilled with the truncheon, indeed, he could even face off against multiple beasts who knew they were doing and have a good chance at coming out the victor, or at least alive. He was strong.

But not that strong.

If I take that ingot I am as good as dead. I might make it maybe twenty pawsteps out the door on my best day before I get overwhelmed and torn apart. Even if, by the grace of the gods, I and my family made it to a ship bound for Alkamar, I would have three ministries putting out a death warrant on me. The Ministry of Justice, for the theft of the ingot, the Ministry of Commerce, for not immediately turning it over to them to be subjected to their taxes which would see at least half that ingot taking away, and Misanthropy for good measure since they get a cut of the revenue that Commerce earns. I would never be able to sleep again, even if I made there. The Imperium has agents everywhere. Still, what to do, what to do? We do not remotely have the change for the ingot here...​

“Sir…?” Sara inquired, the young cadet looking up at him expectantly, her eyes on him like every beast in the room. He thought for a moment, then repressed a heavy sigh, looking up at the panda with a forlon and extremely pained smile.

“You know what, I just forgot, you won the Imperium Newcomer’s Lottery, Camilla here will get that for you for free.”

“What are you-” Sara asked, before Selsenick’s harsh gaze shut her down. “ah, that’s right, I forgot, just give me a moment to get that new guide for you.”

-----

The clerk, like every other beast in the office, waited with bated breath to see what would happen to the panda before his superior officer calmed things down, for now. He suppressed at laugh at Sara’s suffering before turning back his attention to the two young foxes in front of him, furrowing his brow in thought, although his voice was excited.

“The Hide, eh? Aiming high for your first assignment. She’s the best ship in the Navy at the moment! I got to see her perform at the Empress’s celebration not too long ago. The cannon, that new steam engine, the new copper-plated hull. ‘Tis a right wonder she is. I might’ve signed up myself, but, got young kits at home. If only I were five years younger…” He shook his head wistfully. “Let find that deployment schedule for you…”

Ruffling around the many papers and books on his desk, he nodded as he pulled out a leather-bound book, flipped it open, and went to the most recent page. Glancing up at the two, he shook his head.

“You’re out of luck, I suppose, she left a little while ago on a special mission for the Trait- I mean, Minister of Innovation. To Urk, it seems. Don’t know why anybeast would ever want to go there, but we should be expectin’ her back soon enough. If you want to pass your Able Seabeast exam, you can head over to the Min’o’War once we’re done here, if that is acceptable.”

Quill now ready to write, he looked up at them.

“Names, and from whence you hail?”

@Pomodu lu Modokunomulo @Kinza Rainclaw @Lorcan Rainclaw

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu's eyes widened at the news that she had won. "I wo'ne?" she repeated, incredulous. Her bright eyes lit up. "I wo'ne!" she reached into her bag and, eager, she pulled out a small stack of books: the intermediate and advanced copies of the offending volume, each of which looked similarly out of date to the beginner volume, as well as a book of Vulpinsulan history (ending in 1734), a book of traditional Vulpinsulan poetry (mostly limericks running the gauntlet from the risqué to the horrifyingly filthy), and a complete atlas of Bully Harbor (complete with rearrangeable Slups via a clever system of pull tabs). "You ha've new boo'ke'su?" she inquired hopefully, putting the stack down on the desk. "I pay!"

 

[Soren Selsenick]

No no no, please, gods,do not bring out any more of those ingots, especially in public sight.

Soren raised his paws up in a halting gesture as she offered to pay, then looked down and examined the books. Yes, they were as he thought, unfortunately, at least Anithias’s guide, the book of Vulpinsulan history, and the likely extremely outdated atlas. The poetry book would likely still be fine, although, he would need to take that away just to be sure. Beasts in the past had written fun about topics that would be quite dangerous to repeat now.

“Actually, Sara-” he called out as his underling was on her way to the backrooms, her taking a half-turn as he called out to her, “just bring out the entire recommended starter pack. You know, the works.”

“The entire-Captain, that is something like forty pou-”

Soren gave her a pained smile, but his eyes were as hard as steel.

“Ah, yes, Captain, that would be proper…” She croaked, before hurrying towards the private sections as of the office, likely before she could be requested to bring even more things.

Turning to the “pan-dah”, Soren smiled apologetically.

“My apologies, I just remembered that the lottery you won, it includes the entire new set of updated materials that will grant you a truly great modern understanding of the Imperium. It also gives you a free, guided tour of the Ministry of Commerce, is that not fun? Once we finish your paperwork, I will have my beasts carefully guide you over there so you can see the wonders of our royal mint and banking system.”

Looks like I am going to have to do this myself.

Sitting down, and, carefully taking the pile of books the pan-dah had given him, he made sure to note to burn them all later. The fewer editions of that dangerous outdated nonsense in existence, the better.

“Ah, if you would be so kind as to indulge me, let us get your entry credentials squared away. If you could tell me your name and from whence you hail?"

 

[Pomodu lu Modokunomulo]

Pomodu beamed at the news that she would be getting updated sets of all her books, clapping in such delight that the percussion caused the ink to jump out of a poor clerk's inkwell and all over the page he'd been working on. "New boo'ke'su!" she enthused. She took a moment to calm herself down, breathing deeply. "I a'm Pomodu lu Modokunomulo," she introduced herself, pointing to her chest. "I am f'ro'm Lipadilugoto." This last place name she spoke in a musical rush, each word falling and rising in emphasis and tone on every other syllable, though oddly, the way she spoke seemed to group them in threes.