Stoatorian Guard Open The Trenches The Prodigal Son Returns

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn gave Neame a formal salute as he was addressed, and then dutifully obeyed the Minister’s orders. Honestly, he was completely at a loss about what to say-he could dress well enough, with advice from Daniil and his tailors, to impress the ladies, but as regards the proper uniform for fighting beasts...he could only give his assessment based on what would work best in combat, rather than fashion. Thankfully, Daniil bought him time with his far greater knowledge of tailoring and fashion. He decided to piggy back off Daniil’s opinion to be safe.

“I must concur with potential Recruit Daniil’s assessment here, sir, and his choice looks well enough to be worn both in parade, standard marching, and practical enough if under armor if the circumstances arise.”

He could only really speak properly as to the latter assessment, but, his words rang true, given that he fully believed in his cousin’s competency in this area.​

 

[Neame Grosvenor]

The Minister of War seemed thoughtful, nodding his head in vague agreement with all that was said. It would have seemed he had not given Daniil or Alwyn's words the attention he'd promised, but - putting a hand up to keep the ferret colonel beside him silent, he gave his response in glowing undertones.

"Very good, very good! Important considerations for field wear. I'm too often insulated from that sort of talk around here. Mark that all down, Benton - see what you can do with those notes."

The portly rat tailor bent his head in a polite salute of sorts, scribbling further notes on his pad before leaving the Minister's office.

Colonel Trabant stayed. Looking irritated, the ferret adjusted his glasses, raising his voice enough that Alwyn and Daniil could hear him.

"Minister Grosvenor, sir, with all the due respect, these are resources that should be going -"

"Going to what, Colonel?"

The marten's voice had lost its joviality, rising in its intensity, and the ferret stammered, reaching to pull a letter from his pocket.

"The carriage mounts for the medium cannon aren't suitable, sir - I have a list of signatures -"

"Then why didn't this come up in the review process? Why did none of the trials report such failings? I have my own reports, Colonel."

"With all due respect, sir - the findings were -"

The minister raise a claw as if to stop the ferret, interrupting anyway.

"Which findings? The ones that found your own proposal inadequate? That... debacle in Petroa?"

Now the colonel winced, seemingly deflating as anger crept into the minister's voice.

"The parameters for assessment may have been flaw-"

Neame slammed a fist on his desk, creating a powerful silence.

"You are dismissed, colonel. Do not bring this to me again."

Face unreadable, the ferret made a snappy salute and left, letting the door close behind him.

"Now," the minister said, finally turning back to Alwyn and Daniil, his voice deep but casual as it had been before.

"How can I help you beasts?"

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn gave a brief nod towards Daniil, then step forward and spoke, keeping it brief and to the point, knowing the Minister was busy and how he appreciated beasts being both direct and honest.

“Sir, my cousin, the gentlebeast Daniil of House Ryalor, wishes to sign up as a member of the Guard. I have tested and judged him sufficiently skilled enough to enlist as a recruit, and can vouch for not only his courage in the heat of battle, but also his ability to carry out orders professionally and without equivocation. I say this not because he is my relation, but because I have seen this time and time again. I believe, with additional training and experience, he is capable of rising to the rank of Guardsbeast, and, if it is the will of both you and the Empress, perhaps even higher.”

Once he was done, he stepped back, and politely nudged his cousin forward so that the Minister could examine him more closely and question him further if necessary.

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil stood at attention, chin oh-so-slightly dipped, eyes straight ahead. That he stood in the Fyadorian style (footpaws drawn together at the ankles, each pointed out at forty-five degrees, his paws hanging cupped at his waist) rather than in the more characteristically eastern Vulpinsulan style was a product of his training and service rather than any intention to offend. "Sir," he stated, his tone even and neutral. "Ready for inspection and orders, sir."

 

[Neame Grosvenor]

Neame left the desk to inspect Daniil more closely. His expression was unreadable, though he had a tension about him, like a trap ready to be sprung.

The marten's eyes were quick, noticing the difference in military custom, Daniil's age, his stature. His whiskers seemed to droop slightly, a look between scorn and sympathy crossing his face.

"You surprise me," he said, finally, clasping a paw behind his back as he turned to face Alwyn.

"I'd have thought such a beast would already have risen high up within your house guard. What's this, did he step on the wrong tails back in Westisle?"

Minister Grosvenor looked to Daniil, as though expecting the answer to come from him. In any case, he didn't give adequate time for a response. Grinning widely, he gave the shorter fox a slap on his shoulder, laughing loudly, in a way that seemed to animate his whole body, row of medals clinking audibly as they shifted on his chest.

"Think nothing of it, I'm sure you'll be right at home in the Guard. Hah!"

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil winced as the minister first questioned his presence in the Guard, and then clapped his shoulder with more force than the new guardbeast had expected. Resisting the urge to massage the spot, Daniil focused instead on keeping his composure. "Thank you sir. I promise that your confidence will not be misplaced," he stated. His gaze slid to Alwyn, a touch of apology in his eyes for forcing his cousin to defend his record to such an esteemed beast. "Permission to retrieve the other recruits, sir?" he inquired.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn maintained the stoic, slight smile that he always did around the Minister, replying to the Minister’s question smoothly, though internally he was more than a bit irritated at the denigration of his cousin, whose self-esteem was questionable on a good day.

“Nothing like that, sir, more like a change of pace and an opportunity for him to broaden his horizons.”

Thankfully, it seemed like the Minister accepted Daniil, which was all that he needed for him. He nodded at his cousin in the affirmative to go get him to fetch the other recruits.

After Daniil left the door, he paused, then addressed the Minister.

“Sir, there is something you should know ahead of meeting one of the new recruits, given the legacy of his parentage. It is Caden Freemont, sir, and no, this one is not one of the many previous impostors. He knows things that only the real one could possibly know.”

@Neame Grosvenor @Caden S. Freemont @Daniil Ryalor

 

[Daniil Ryalor]

Daniil left the minister's office, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. It felt slightly humiliating to have to beg his younger cousin for a job, but it was at least work. Alwyn had been more than generous in recommending him for the position. That was really the problem: the family had always been very gentle with Daniil, treating him like he was fragile. He knew that he'd taken Vaelora's death harder than most of the family had; his aunt and uncle both mourned her in their own way, and Mileya had her own issues stemming from it, but Vilen had managed to grow into a stable, emotionally mature todd trusted with the administration of an entire province, and his cousins had never even known Vaelora except as a picture on the wall. To all their eyes, Daniil was the one trapped in an event from when he was six years old, unable to move past that moment.

He found Caden and Eirene, a lump forming in his throat as he looked at the marten who was to be training him from now on. "The minister is ready for you," he advised the pair.

Eirene nodded, glancing to her companion. "Moment of truut," she remarked. "I guess now we will be guards in real."

 

[Neame Grosvenor]

"Freemont, eh? You mean to tell me this one's an actual albino? Rather embarrassing, some of those frauds."

The minister seemed amused by the thought, that the beast might actually be who he claimed he was this time around.

"Well, send them in! Always a moment to spare for our brave, young recruits."

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn simply nodded, as it was his place to do, then opened the door, announcing both Caden and Eirene in a clipped, disciplined, elevated voice.

“Potential recruits Caden Freemont and Eirene Liu, Minister Grosvenor!”

He then stepped back into his proper position, standing ready for whatever might come.

@Neame Grosvenor @Caden S. Freemont @Daniil Ryalor @Eirene Liu

 

[Caden S. Freemont]

Caden did not know what it was about the Daniil's expression as he addressed them, perhaps it was the depths of pain the jack perceived behind the todd's steady gaze that resonated with something deep inside of him. He knew intuitively why it was there, and Caden knew it was his doing. Their lives had collided three decades before, and now they had joined again. Caden did not know what drove him to it in that moment, perhaps it was simply the desire to try to fix the pain he had caused, but he gave the fox an encouraging smile and informal salute.

"Thanks, mate," he said with as much ease and friendliness he could muster. "See you on the other side."

He responded to Eirene's comment with a nod of his own as they were led to the Minister's office. "Aye, moment of truth. Though I really would have rather broken in and surprised the bloke."

Entering the room alongside the jill, Caden surveyed the office, taking in the familiar feel of the place despite the different decor than the last time he had been there. He laid eyes on the Minister of War and pulled himself into a loose attention, trying to keep his gaze forward despite that he wished to size up the marten who now held the position his mother once had.

 

[Eirene Liu]

Eirene braced herself before following after Caden, mimicking him as best she could - his walk, his stance, everything. He'd been here before, he'd practically grown up in this building, so it stood to reason that he would understand its norms and traditions more deeply than he could even explain out loud. She held herself at attention, readying herself for the inevitable question about why someone of her age would be seeking to join the guard. She'd gotten similar questions even twenty years before, every single time that she applied somewhere. It had been her skill and devotion to the public good that had carried her through before; she hoped it would be enough now.