Private The Star Looks to the Sea

[Adelyn Ufrey]

Adelyn watched the schooner fly in to the harbor, her eyes steely for what was to come. The crew were a responsive lot, well-paid and experienced, tying the ship off on the warf without much fuss or noise, as though not to disturb the tranquility of the morning’s still silence. It was the Seastrider, without a doubt. A fast ship for fast travel between Bully Harbor and the Maquistry Cape, taking passengers and cargo to and from the two cities with a speed exceeded only by the Missertrosse Gulls, and always offered an easy mooring at the Fishminster's docks, with few questions asked of her by the authorities.

It had been a letter on that same Missetrosse service that had summoned her here today. That stood her here in the cold morning breeze, waiting with a paw clutched tightly behind her back as the Seastrider’s gangway set down on the dock, and its passengers could begin to disembark.

The beast that came off the deck was at once both familiar and distant. Another stoat, a head taller, still strongly shaped, despite the flickers of grey in his neat and orderly fur, only now molting into its winter white. He looked much the same that he had when she’d left him and home behind, years ago now. Real and invented memories drew them close in embrace, and she buried her muzzle in his shoulder, letting herself believe in them.

“It’s been a while,” she said, voice all but a whisper.

Her father gave her a pat on the back, gentle signal for her to break away.

“Too long,” came the reply, sharp eyes looking to meet her own. Adelyn turned her face away, as much for shame as some quiet sense of sheltered pride, that she didn’t need to match his movements or follow his instruction. She wasn’t a child anymore.

His paw found her chin anyway, and raised her muzzle to look at him.

“You’re still my daughter. I should have found the time to visit you sooner.”

There was nowhere to look away to, now. For so many long seconds, the two looked into each other, an older, firmer stoat looking into his younger, somehow more faded, feminine mirror – Adelyn finding both care and control in her father’s sharp eyes. The same forces that had driven her from her family now held her close.

The younger stoat pulled away, turning her eyes back to the city behind her, to her life now, to something and anything far from the comfort some part of her still longed to find, but never could.

She cleared her throat.

“You said you needed my help? For something?”

Her father still stared at her, as though inspecting her, like she was a new hire at his factory, looking for signs she was deficient in her work. Then, thoughtfully, he picked up his satchel and turned toward the shore.

“Walk with me,” he said, moving purposefully down the dock, not waiting for her to hear him.

Adelyn followed, forcing herself not to hurry to catch up closer as he continued speaking.

“There’s a matter of business that needs special attention. Something big, sensitive.”

She frowned. It hadn’t taken much to guess from the vagueness of the letter that her task would be a secret one.

“Not more of the same, then?”

Her work was already sensitive. She put her neck out for the family, risked her reputation and her freedom from time to time.

If he caught the slight edge to her tone, the elder Ufrey didn’t react to it. He continued to lead the way, away from the docks, into the rows of sturdy buildings that was the Imperial Warehouses district.

“No. This will be different. You’ll be working through an associate of mine, right here in the harbor.”

Thoughts flickered in his eyes – something shockingly close to uncertainty. A look she didn’t often see in her father’s features.

It was gone before she could process what it might mean.

“It’s a major service for the company. For the family. One I can entrust only to you.”

Another surprise – enough to make her almost stop in her step.

“You- you’re serious?”

Her guard was down, voice tinged with forlorn hope, and the look again flashed over her father’s face. But only for an instant.

“I am. Your brothers don’t have the skill for it, aren’t positioned for it like you are. Maybe you were right to come here. It all seems to have worked out in the end.”

Now Adelyn could hardly believe her ears.

“Mother wouldn’t think so,” she said, eyes ahead, looking for the shape of whatever opportunity her father was leading her to.

“No,” he laughed, softly. “She wouldn’t. She tried to talk me out of this. But you’ve done good work here, and it’s clear the danger hasn’t scared you away.”

She looked to him again, disbelieving, but her heart turned over with pride. To think she might have done right, that she wasn't the wayward brat that lost her way, a bitter disappointment best kept at distance. That her father, at least, believed in her.

“Whatever mom says, it takes more than bombs and brigands to scare off an Ufrey jill.”

He smiled, and she thought she could see a glimmer of fatherly pride in his own expression.

“That’s my girl. I was mad that your… reporter friend… even took you to that party. We were all very worried for you when we heard what had happened.”

Adelyn tried to shrug it off, the concern she knew turned too quick to control. On some level, though, she couldn’t help but feel warm to know her family back home had cared for her well-being, even if they were wrong in how they went about it.

“You shouldn’t be mad at Aiken. I begged him to take me. Took the brunt of the blast right in front of me too. Probably the only reason I was unharmed.”

A pang of guilt. She could still see his battered body, smoke rising from his back in the firey, smokey haze of the ruined opera house. Then, bandaged at Pyrostoat, wracked with pain as he tried to rise, after two days near to death in an unwaking sleep.

Her father seemed hesitant, either for the talk of her obvious jackfriend or something else on his mind.

“This will be safer, I’ve been assured of that. My associate's to take good care of you – or he’ll hear from me about it.”

They reached their destination before she could get anything more useful out of her father about the mission ahead. The Armory EXIM Security Company offices were decidedly nondescript, and Adelyn doubted much of their budget went to marketing.

Without another word, Harold Ufrey entered through the front door, his daughter soon behind, shutting the door behind to keep out the worst of the winter chill.

 

[Peter Morrey]

The offices of Armory EXIM Security Company were as nondescript inside as they were without. A few potted shrubs were pushed into barren corners of the room, filling the space with their wilting greenery, while the three walls were largely taken up with three large desks staffed by clerks who might well have been auditioning for a gender-swapped version of Mother, Maiden, Crone. The center of the room was occupied by a large drafting table laid out with complex actuarial tables, maps of trade routes, a ledger that looked as if it weighed more than at least one of the clerks, and stacks of mostly-tidy paper. Doors on either side of the room led off to hallways that, based on the visible turns further down, must have circled the main warehouse, with a few other rooms and offices interspersed.

It was from down the right-hand of these hallways that a sable ferret jack entered the room, a broad, easy smile on his face. He was dressed in a neat, dark suit and jacket over a burgundy waistcoat and a mint-and-white paisley ascot, a combination that somehow seemed formal enough for the office while being approachable enough for an evening of drinks and cigars. His fur was nearly groomed, just a little bit of rough left around the cheeks to give a hint of worldliness and maturity. His eyes, brown and bright with a liveliness that bordered on mischief, gleamed as he approached the trio, offering a paw to Harold that he followed up with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"Harold," he greeted the weapons magnate with the warmth and charm of an old friend. "So good to see you again - and to make the trip in this weather! Truly an honor. You must let me treat you to brandy for this, I have just the bottle for the occasion." His accent was broad enough to be from everywhere and nowhere; there was hint of something slightly exotic about it, but it could as easily have been eastern Vulpinsulan or East Varangian.

His gaze turned to Adelyn, and all of that intensity focused on her, eyes that didn't see so much as they scrutinized, absorbed, admired, appraised. "And you must be the lovely Miss Adelyn Ulfrey," he greeted the jill, the same warm tone suffusing his words. He bowed in a manner befitting a duke, one paw against the small of his back, the other lifting her paw to place a gentle, courtly kiss on its back. He straightened, looking between the pair with those eyes still crinkled at the corners with amusement. "Your father greatly understated your beauty, though given the blessings bestowed upon your entire family in that regard, perhaps he simply failed to notice."

He put a paw to his head, dramatically demonstrating his self-recrimination. "How rude of me! My name is Peter Morrey, chief executive officer of Armory Export-Import Security. I'm sure your father has told you all about our business, which I am quite excited to share with you. Now, come come," he invited, gesturing to the hall from which he'd originated. "You must join me, I've a fire going to warm you from the cold. Michel, take their coats," he ordered the youngest of the clerks, who rose quickly to comply.

"Have you taken lodgings already?" Peter inquired of the elder Ulfrey. "I have a townhouse within walking distance, with a furnished guest room available. Modest by your taste, I am sure, but certainly better than the boarding houses in the city."

 

[Adelyn Ufrey]

The older stoat smiled, though it was the polite kind that he greeted most business partners with, not cold, but not quite warm.

"Peter, please - call me Harry."

Underneath the dark, navy-colored coat he wore, the Ufrey patriarch was dressed rather smartly, though without much sense of fashion or daring - the pallid uniform of a dedicated businessbeast, without either frills or defects, all grey-blue and white, though wearing a particularly bright white cravat.

"Brandy, huh? Don't tell me," he said, holding a paw up for a thoughtful pause.

"Lucerne's Old Red?"

Adelyn was much more taken aback by the ferret's greetings, not missing the movement or intensity of his eyes - but not insulted, either. Peter Morrey seemed some deal older than her, and a ferret, of course, but his sable fur was sleek and well-groomed, his manners both daring and sophisticated, and his flattery made her blush under her fur.

"A-a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Morrey," she managed to say, rubbing her paw where the jack had kissed it, out of sight, unsure just how to feel. Certainly she'd been introduced to males ahead of meetings and social gatherings before, but the ferret seemed somehow different. She tried to a moment to place his accent, thinking through the many beasts she'd seen and met in her time both around the port of Maquistry Cape and now here in the much more cosmopolitan streets of Bully Harbor.

Getting a feel for such details wasn't necessarily her strong suit, but it was something of a necessity in her trade. Understanding beasts and their motivations opened more doors than gilders alone did - the worker embittered with management was more likely to explain a process at length to her, or forget to lock up a warehouse at night, and the ambitious or proud work-a-holic could be as incorruptible as an Aurorian priest.

What are you after, she wondered, handing her own coat off to Michel with a polite thanks.

She wasn't dressed up, not remotely prepared to the finery she might be led to, though she wore more color than her father, a warmly yellow neckerchief complementing her ruddy brown shirt, all contrasting nicely with the steadily spreading white of her winter fur. Aiken's stylistic input had had some effect on her day-to-day wear, as much as she was loathe to admit it.

Her father seemed to take it all in stride, either not noticing or caring for his daughter's hesitation, handing his own coat off to the clerk with a mere nod. When talk of their lodging situation came, he waved his paw to dismiss the ferret's worries.

"I'd made arrangements, but nothing so solid as to beat your offer. Even the best of Zann's seems to have lost some of its luster in recent years. Adelyn here-"

"I have my own place," she injected, politely, but decisively. "but thank you."

Adelyn thought of it, the little hole in the wall in the trenches that had once been a corporate safehouse. Not much, but it was hers, and nobeast could hold it over her head. The stoat thought she saw her father's smile falter, but powered through it. She would have her autonomy, or whatever deal this was to be could go on without her.

A moment's regret. This was her father's business - her family's. It wasn't her place to cause problems.

"A warm fire and nice drink sounds lovely, though," she offered, her own polite smile mustered up effortlessly - she was much more adept at wearing masks than the rest of her family. "A good place to talk business. I confess I haven't heard much about what it is you do here at Armory ExIm, other than what I could infer from the name, and maybe a few good guesses."

It was something of a tell, a twinkle in her eye betraying more than her words had said. Security companies in the Vulpinsulan tradition were almost never only what name implied. SDS - the Special Dispositional Services Corporation, through its decade of dominance, had been enough to teach most beasts that, but Bouillabaisse had a short memory, and no one knew better than an observant beast from the Cape's industrial district.

 

[Peter Morrey]

Peter chuckled as he led the way down the hall to his office, passing old maps hung on the wall interspersed with small framed portraits of stuffy-looking old jacks with too much fur in the wrong places and not enough in the right ones. "Oh, it's all in the name, really," he remarked, waving a paw in a gesture both grand and nondescript. "We're a unique blend of physical and financial security to meet the needs of our international trade partners. You see, maritime insurance is a cutthroat game, and with piracy on the rise, many ship captains find themselves priced out of certain international ventures. We are able to provide a more competitive rate on our insurance products by bundling our policies with in-house security contracts and, for those without ships to sail, our own contracted mercantile fleet, providing peace of mind both for those making the voyage and those at home anxiously awaiting their return."

He spoke it all with the ease of a salesbeast and the slight boast of an entrepreneur, with a certain amount of con artist's sleaze to lubricate between the two. He reached a door on the left and unlocked the door with a key, leading the way in. The office was surprisingly comfortable, at least compared to the packed warehouse of boxes and crates below, visible through the glass-paned lattice taking up the far wall. The office was evidently elevated on stilts above the warehouse, likely an old foreman's office renovated for luxury, with dark green fleur-de-lis wallpaper over walnut paneling, rich carpeting on the floor, and even a working fireplace roaring merrily before a trio of crab leather armchairs. "Please, take a seat, warm yourselves," Peter invited, going to a liquor cabinet on the far wall and preparing a trio of tumblers. He pulled a bottle from among the stock, demonstrating the stylized Lurcerne's prominently on the label, and poured a finger of the amber liquid into each of the glasses.

As he carried the trio of glasses over, he remarked, "Your father tells me that you've been dabbling in- what was the polite term for it again, Harry? 'Zero-sum competitive corporate development'?" His eyes glimmered with a spark of interest as he offered them each a glass. "Quite an endeavor for such a striking young femme. Certainly an ambitious course to chart for oneself. You must tell me how this interest arose."

 

[Adelyn Ufrey]

The elder Ufrey didn't hide his grin, seeing his guess was accurate. He gave a quiet laugh at his own term for Adelyn's exploits, then took to drinking from his glass while the ferret inquired further of his daughter.

Adelyn couldn't help but still be surprised by what was happening. Certainly her father had led her to believe this would be about her work as a spy, but it was one thing to imagine it and another to live it. What was she getting herself into?

Nevertheless, she wore a mask of capable confidence as she took her glass, giving the brandy an experimental sniff before speaking plainly.

"I used to sneak out at night - was always getting in trouble for it."

The frown she wanted to make didn't show, didn't even flicker through her expression, or bite into her voice. No, he'd not know why she was always wanting to leave - why the cool dark air outside was a friendlier place than her upper-class home. How the future had seemed like a bad joke at the time, something far off but closing in, equal parts inevitable and impossible.

That thought made her laugh, a polite thing that came out more through her nose than her mouth, though it seemed to anyone else she was only laughing at memories of a foolish youth, not something cosmic and bitter, not the irony of her being here now, somehow, for some reason, describing her life's direction in a way that made it seem almost useful, almost deliberate.

"I guess... sooner or later... I started thinking about how to get into places, rather than out of them. Some of that was in the dark, still, some of it with words, you know."

She shook her head with a smile, like she was describing a silly hobby with friends.

"Guess I got pretty good at it."

Good enough that she was here now, discussing it with some businessbeast her father had introduced her to.

Harold Ufrey chimed in then, absently swirling the liquid in his glass, reminding her of her own, and letting her take her first sip of her drink while he spoke.

"Should've seen her when she was still just a kit. Got caught by the marines sneaking around the Navy yard with her friends. They thought she was a spy, made me have to go all the way down to pick her up myself."

The brandy was smooth - potent, filling the roof of her mouth - but smooth, and thankfully so, as she felt herself compelled to drink more while her father talked on.

"Bit embarrassing, having to rescue my daughter from beasts with the family name on their crossbows."

He sighed, setting his glass down to look at her.

"But she's always had a knack for this sort of thing, and the gumption to do it too, no matter what me or her mother had to say about it."

Adelyn nearly choked on her drink, image fraying for the slightest moment as she forced the fine brandy down her throat, trying to manage the burn and her mask of composure at the same time.

 

[Peter Morrey]

Peter Morrey listened, leaning with one arm on the fireplace mantle, his other paw cradling his own drink. He took a long, slow sip as he watched Adelyn, considering her carefully. "A knack indeed," he mused. "Well, Harry, you certainly raised a fine daughter, and one fiery enough to put this brandy to shame," he noted with a chuckle. "I think that, if she's the interest, she could do quite well here. And," he noted, raising his own glass, "the arrangements we discussed for further cooperation between Ulfrey Arms and Armory EXIM Security will only make this partnership even more lucrative." He looked to Adelyn with a degree of open curiosity, which seemed to be intentionally masking the scrutiny behind it. "Tell me, Adelyn - if I may address you so informally - having seen our office and operation, based on what you've seen so far, where would you strike, if you wanted to cripple our business?"