Expedition The Urk Expedition: The Judgement of a Fox.

Well, she at least did not stab me in the chest, which, I think, is an improvement over what would have happened had we both continued to live after the Winter War. Although whether or not that is because she knows it will not hurt me here, or if she is open to reconciliation, remains to be seen.

Adjusting his hat to buy some time to think, he sighed and raised a rub his forehead before replying, smiling back softly at his former colleague and the famed Minister of War. Ironically, he had initially wanted to befriend her, much like his brother had, in life to strike down Emperor Ullyanov in revenge for both of their losses, her husband and his brother, to the wildcat, but circumstances and differing plans had led them down a more...adversarial...path. Back then, he had wanted a more direct route to the throne, or, perhaps more accurately, Alexei had and did until his death. This had clashed with Sken’s loyalty to the Imperium-perhaps she might have been open to finally ending Vlad's life and installing a new ruler, but she would have never let him take power. And, now, the situation...well…she probably found it hilarious, given how she had asked her questions, and the knowledge that was behind them.

“Age takes a toll on us still in the world, and, perhaps, especially badly for those who stay in positions of power, though I have done my best to slow it down. As for where it has led me...well…I still live, as does most of my family, and I still hold a ministry and have acquired an Imperial noble title, as I am sure you have seen, which, given the Imperium’s tendency for consuming beasts in our positions over the years, is about the best that could be expected.”

He paused at the next question, a more pensive look crossing his face.

“I never got the chance to decide what I wanted, the curse of being born who I was. Perhaps if that bastard Ullyanov had not taken from me...from us...what he did, I could have been the second son, free to pursue what I wished, free to be a…” he almost said better beast, but could not force himself to utter the true and damning words, and looked away from her as he could not stand her signature piercing gaze to say the next two words “...different beast.”

He paused, returning his gaze to meet hers once again, this time not shying away from her eyes.

“But what is, is, and there is no point speculating what could have been. What I thought the best for my family’s interest is in motion, although my uncle and I...had a...disagreement about the method I chose. He wanted a more direct approach that would have cost more Ryalor and Imperium blood in exchange for doing things the honorable way. I picked a different, more indirect option, ‘abominable’ as he so nicely put it, but it saved lives, both for my own family, and for the Imperium. The cost for me, personally, was...” he pointed down at his leg, a parting gift from Alexei which, while healed in the afterlife, hurt most of the time, and, if he survived this encounter, would be lucky if it even worked ever again, “...high, and, I am not loved, either by my own family or the public at large. But the choice I made, saved both my family, and the Imperium, from the brink. As for what I want...to live long enough to see that decision stand the test of time, and to get my family’s forgiveness for what I had to do. If I make it out of here, I suspect I will not see a day’s rest until my death to try to achieve both.”

He paused, feeling like a load at had been taken off his chest. He rarely had the chance to be frank and honest with someone about his feelings these days, given the...situation...with Dusk, in which he had so wronged her, but, perhaps when he returned, they could begin the hard work of reconciling. They had corresponded, haltingly, through letters from the Misertrosse Gulls, and his agents had affirmed she had not done anything with the Colonel, which was a promising sign, but, much, much work would have to be done to repair their marriage.

“As for the Empress...Amélie…and my experience. She…” He paused once more, this time for quite a while, before he continued “...is a force of nature.”

He glanced aside once more out of embarrassment, once again unable to match his colleague’s gaze.

“In more ways then one. You would have liked her had you met her, I think, and perhaps you did when she was a kit, though her father never rose beyond captain in your tenure in War. Not weak like Markan, not as self-serving as Ullyanov. Few beasts could have brought the Imperium back under control with what it went through, even if I had taken the more direct path under the best of circumstances I might not, indeed, probably could not, have managed it. She has a mind for war, logistics, economics, politics, scheming, law, and other things and the legitimacy in a way that I could have never had. In the end, only a beast of the Imperium can rule it, which is one reason, among others, as I am sure you have seen, I bent the knee. In addition, if, if what we have planned succeeds, neither the Imperium nor my family will ever the lows they did again.”
 
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Sken's gaze remained impassive as Talinn spoke. Even once he finished, she said nothing for some time, simply staring at him with her head cocked just slightly to the side. The breeze sent fluffy seeds blowing through the glade. Sken looked up at them. "Ah yes, that does make sense."

She reached out and caught one, then another. Each seed rapidly grew--not into a plant, but a large, glass mug partially filled with an amber liquid, one held in each paw. The stone behind her melted, and a table and pair of chairs formed from the smooth, black material. Sken turned and set the mugs down on the table, then took a seat. She opened her paw to the setting on the other side of the table.

"You seem like you could take a load off." Sniffing the contents of her mug, she nodded. "Aye, I suppose it's rum for us, then. After all that," she gestured vaguely to the fox, "I wouldn't fault you a drink or several."

Downing half her drink in one go, Sken sighed and looked up at the sky. "Dying gives a beast some perspective, Talinn. I knew what I was marching into, of course, that was the entire point of the thing, but actually dying, you can't really prepare for that." She rolled her eyes, chuckling, and looked back at the fox. "Had I not died that day, you may have found out what it was like by my sword, given your actions in the War. But, as the Fates would have it, I died, you lived, and here we are, drinking rum together in the Dark Forest, and you've come to understand fully just what it means to live for country rather than self. How does it feel, to have finally gotten there, Talinn?"
 
The tension in Talinn’s body melted away for the most part when Sken invited him to sit down for a drink. Reconciliation it was then, and, honestly, he had hoped for it. He and the former Minister of War had not seen eye to eye on many things, but fundamentally, she had never truly wronged him, not in the way Vlad, Anithias, or even Alexei had. Taking the seat, Talinn took the mug, and took a long, deep draw of the mug, something that he needed after all he had been through and would likely continue to go through in his time here. He looked pensively at Sken as she talked about dying, and the war in which she had given her life away. Leaning back, sipping his rum, he replied, wanting to explain to his former colleague that his actions in the her last battle had not been entirely selfish in nature.

Regarding my actions during the Winter War...someone had to live, if the gambit failed, to organize the resistance. Misanthropy’s forces were, and are, better suited to less conventional tactics, and if we all had died, the Imperium would have been without any experienced beasts in command. Your sacrifice was not for naught, though, it bought us time and cost them dearly, and, in the end, through a combination of irregular warfare and their inability to procure local supplies to supplement what they could ship in, they were forced to sue for something of a white peace-no territory of ours was lost, even Valles Mensa, and all they got were gilders. Gilders that would, eventually, become worthless, but that was beyond my tenure. Events occurred that for the safety of my family saw a necessary retreat to Eastisle.”

His visage darkened at the thought of Anithias, before returning to normal.

“Now, though the modern Harbor has defenses that will make such an assault impossible or too costly to achieve ever again, and, you will be amused to hear, one of the two main fortresses that protect it is named after you. You even have a statue.”

He paused to consider her question of what it felt like to serve the Imperium, this time, mostly, for selfless reasons.

“As regards to your question of service, it is a tireless, and thankless. You have power, but if you wield it, beasts hate you, if you wield it but carefully, beasts still hate you, but just a bit less, if you do not, beasts hate you just as much as if you were a tyrant. You try to steer the ship as best you can, and sometimes it is smooth sailing, sometimes you hit the rocks, and for the most part, you are all alone with it. You try to find what pleasures you can in the meantime.”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“I think I made the correct choice, in the end, even if it cost me dearly. The Imperium has had over a decade of peace and reconstruction, the longest in recent memory. I could not have managed that.”

He paused, uncertain if he should even bring it up, but decided she had a right to know.

“Many beasts have been returning from abroad in light of the Empress’s peace. Even your son, Caden.”
 
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