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.