Expedition The Urk Expedition

[Captain Gyles F. Stowett]

Gyles raised an eyebrow. "Prisoners, eh. Them two desperate lookin' numpties brought aboard last night?" The two hadn't said a word since their arrival, in chains, to the Golden Hide's less-than-accommodating brig. They'd kept their eyes to the floor, either out of sullen defiance or terror to breathe a word that might put them in further disfavor - he couldn't quite tell. He stroked his chin, then nodded, countenance grave. "As you say, Excellency. Bo'sun Waverunner here will relay word to the crew to keep their demmed wits about 'em when the time comes."

Gyles bowed - an officer's salute to the Duke. "I'll gather the other officers to pass on the word. Waverunner will do the same for the warrants, I expect. No further questions." But inside, oh, weren't there! What excitement and dread lay before them in the frigid North? It was a place he hadn't been yet. But Gyles couldn't shake the feeling - could it be that he had?

Precious little was left in the Captain's wake when he left Skeered's End. Gyles thought to the things in the old seachest that now lay in his cabin, the elder Gyles' articles: a ship's log with the pages torn out of it, a pair of dice carved from knucklebones, spectacles with no glass in them, a brass telescope, a sextant, and a chart of the Known World.

At one point in time, the map had been marked, but somebeast had smudged away the markings, either by accident or intent, leaving only smudges of ochre in certain general swathes of sea. Treading his sire's steps, Gyles had been to most of those areas as opportunity reared its head, but by nature of the service, some still lay painfully close while the means and chance to sail to them had remained persistently evasive. One such smudge, one he'd paid too little mind to, perhaps out of aversion to the bitter chill; or perhaps out of an eerie sense he got of the damned place - likely both - lay in the Northern Sea... near Urk. Their destination, as the Fates would have it.

@Duke Talinn Ryalor @Ralynn Waverunner

 

[Ralynn Waverunner]

"Billy Clubbs and Shorris?" Ralynn's voice emerges as barely more than a whisper, her ears snapping forward in shock. The names strike her like physical blows, driving the breath from her lungs.

The cabin suddenly feels suffocatingly small as memories flood back—broken shopfronts in Alton Bay, the weeping mother cradling her bloodied son after they'd "made an example" of him for refusing to pay their "protection," the night they'd cornered old Whistler Jenkins at the docks and left him for the tide to take. Ralynn had helped the Minister defeat them, had been glad to be there when they were finally captured. She would have gladly run either of them through with her blade if they'd given her cause.

Her brown eyes widen, fixed on Talinn as the implications sink in. A chill spreads through her stomach, cold as the northern waters they're bound for. The fur along her spine rises involuntarily, and she struggles to maintain her composure.

"Those...beasts," she manages, her normally musical brogue flattened by shock, "they're tae handle the idol? Tae carry it? Knowin' what it might do?"

Something shifts in her perception of the Minister, like a fog lifting to reveal jagged rocks where she'd expected safe harbor. The casual way he speaks of using prisoners—using anyone—as sacrificial pawns sends a ripple of unease through her. It's not just practical military tactics she hears in his voice; there's a calculating coldness that she'd somehow missed before.

She straightens her posture, fighting to keep her expression neutral despite the turmoil within. "Aye, sir. The crew need only know tae keep their distance. Ah'll see tae it they understand."

Despite her best efforts, her voice betrays some of her internal conflict as her thoughts race behind her eyes This is what duty demands—using whatever tools are available to complete the mission, even if those tools are living, breathing beasts. Even if those beasts are monsters like Clubbs and Shorris.

Yet something about it feels fundamentally wrong. Not the punishment of criminals—they've earned that and worse—but the cold efficiency with which their lives are being wagered. The possibility that their very souls might be in peril sends a shiver through her golden fur.

Ralynn meets Gyles's gaze briefly, wondering if the stoat shares her misgivings or if this is simply how things have always been done—another hard truth about naval service that she's been too naive to recognize until now.

"Will there be anythin' else, Minister?" she asks, her voice steady despite the ice in her stomach. The woodlander who joined the Navy so full of idealism and hope feels a hairline crack forming in her perception of the Imperium she serves....

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn gave a firm nod to Gyles, acknowledging his bow and salute, and seeing the excitement of adventure in his eyes, which was good. He would have enthusiasm, and it was always nice to have that provided willingly. But his eyes then crossed over to Ralynn and fixed on her for a moment, the formerly innocent, and, in some ways, still so little bunny that he had helped in Alton Bay, and saw a little bit of her soul wither away at what had to be done. Rather, what he had to make her do, in service of something greater. It pained him, deep down, beneath all the layers of deception and the masks he wore, because once, a very long time ago, when he still had his brother, still had his grandfather, in those peaceful mountains on Westisle, he too was once naive, or perhaps, still had an unblemished soul, and now, just as other beasts had made him...stained...some would say, lesser, he would have to do so to her.

“No, there will be nothing else, this meeting is concluded and you are all dismissed,” Talinn announced loudly, before adding, “Bosun Waverunner, a moment of your time, if you would.” He gestured towards the rabbit to wait at the front of his desk while he sat in his chair, until all the other beasts had left. He looked at her for a moment, a strange expression, something like regret, flashing across his face, before he met her soft, still innocent brown eyes. Then, he spoke, voice measured, but tired. It would best to be honest with her, he felt, then betray her expectations further.

“Ralynn,” he said, using her first name to emphasize his point, “I am a violent beast. I have taken on a life that requires it. I hurt beasts. I kill beasts. And each time I do, in that moment, another part of me dies along with them. When I was young, I romanticized the life of being somebeast powerful, being in command, being a ruler. That...was a long time ago.”

He paused, glancing down at his paws, the ones stained with the blood of thousands, tens of thousands, before looking back at up at her.

“Billy and Shorris, they used their power for their own ends, for no greater goal than their own enrichment, they beat beasts. They nearly killed beasts. If we had not stopped them, they would have killed beasts. This idol, if there is even a slim chance we can unlock its power, will save countless lives. Perhaps, it will even save their souls in the end, giving them the ability to cleanse their misdeeds, a very rare opportunity. It is a trade I make no hesitation doing, and would do again in a heartbeat. Too much has been sacrificed to let this chance slip by.”

He paused, glancing down again from those soft, brown eyes at his desk, for it was hard to meet them. Hard to see them look at him in disappointment. Just like Weylin did. Just like Dusk. He had become a monster to make such decisions, and, deep down, he knew he was damned for what he did and what he would do, if there was a God or gods. But maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could spare his kits and beasts like Ralynn from having to become like him.

Not glancing up, not wanting to look at the shattered innocence of the rabbit doe, he spoke again, voice more formal.

“Bosun Waverunner, dismissed.”

@Ralynn Waverunner @Gyles

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail pulled his brown over-cloak tighter around his frame as he strode along the damp wooden planks of the Imperial Docks. The scent of salt and tar filled his nostrils, mingling with the distant hiss of steam and the rhythmic creak of mooring ropes. Around him, the docks teemed with activity—longshorebeasts loading crates, sailors sharing crude jokes, and dockmasters shouting orders over the din of industry. It was an environment of ceaseless motion, a place where fortunes were made and lost on the tide.

And now, it was the place where his fortune would change.

For months, Swifttail had scrounged and toiled, taking whatever odd jobs he could find to earn the gilders he needed to keep himself fed. The work had been grueling, but necessary. He could not approach the Navy looking like a common guttersnipe; he had to be presentable, to carry himself as a proper recruit. Now, with his green tunic decent but worn, his brown over-cloak providing some protection against the coastal chill, and his belt tightened against the hunger in his belly, he felt he had at least the semblance of a beast worthy of service. A beige satchel hung at his side, carrying little more than a small bag of gilders. His dagger was tucked securely in his belt, while his compact longbow was slung over his shoulder, resting alongside a quiver holding a half dozen red-fletched arrows.

His paws halted at the pier’s edge, his breath catching as his eyes fell upon her—the Golden Hide.

The pride of the Vulpine Imperium’s fleet loomed before him, a breathtaking fusion of old-world grandeur and cutting-edge ingenuity. Her hull, clad in gleaming copper, shone like burnished gold under the midday sun. Towering masts still bore their proud sails, but nestled between them rose the telltale smokestacks of a steam-powered engine—an innovation of the Ministry of Innovation itself. The ship was no mere relic of the past, but a vision of the future, a bold experiment in naval supremacy.

A vision Swifttail wanted to be part of.

His tail flicked behind him, but he forced himself to still it, straightening his posture as he approached the gangplank. His heart hammered in his chest, excitement thrumming through his veins, but he could not let it show. If he was to earn a place aboard the Golden Hide, he had to be more than an eager kit with stars in his eyes.

He had to prove himself worthy.

Just as he prepared to speak, movement to his left caught his eye. A group of crewbeasts stood in a loose semicircle near the base of the gangplank, their attention focused on a sodden figure kneeling on the dock. The punished beast—a young ferret jill with tan, champagne-colored fur—shivered, soaked to the bone, stripped to her undergarments. A searat, clad in a green tunic and pantaloons, stood nearby, balancing on a wooden peg leg while his left arm ended in a hook. Though his face was taut with sympathy, he dutifully refilled a bucket with seawater, ready to continue as commanded.

The true enforcer of the punishment, however, was a sleek-furred brown rabbit, her ears bound back with a sailor’s bandana. The bosun. Her agile frame belied the strength she had built from years of climbing rigging and hauling heavy sails. Her paws, marked with small scars from past lessons in rope handling, worked with practiced efficiency as she upended another bucket over the ferret, the cold splash met with a sharp gasp from the jill.

Swifttail’s eyes flicked to the departing figures of two beasts—one clearly of noble bearing, the other likely the captain—making their way toward the officer’s quarters, their backs turned on the spectacle. The punishment had been issued, its enforcers left to see it through.

A cold unease settled in Swifttail’s stomach. Discipline was necessary aboard a ship; he knew this better than most. He had seen firsthand what happened when a captain failed to command respect. The Reaper’s Howl had become a floating grave because of it. He had been little more than a shadow in the corners then, a slave forced to bear witness as authority crumbled and the crew fractured into chaos. The mutiny had begun as whispers, spreading like rot until open violence erupted. By the time the captain had attempted to seize control, it had been too late. The ship, once mighty, had torn itself apart from within.

This was different. This was controlled, deliberate. The captain—if that had indeed been him—had made his decree, and it had been carried out swiftly. There was no room for hesitation, no cracks for dissent to seep through. It was harsh, but necessary. A ship was only as strong as its order.

Swifttail swallowed, suppressing the old ghosts clawing at the edges of his mind. This was no Reaper’s Howl. This was the Golden Hide. And if he wanted to be part of it, he had to accept what that meant.

Although he had a good grip on his maritime manners, his footpaw edged toward the gangplank. It was always courteous to ask permission before setting paw on a vessel, especially one held in such high regard as the Hide. It would immediately be a mark against him on basic naval etiquette. Still, as his squinted eyes observed the activity on board, and seeing every beast preoccupied, he would feel a fool shouting out for permission aboard while time wasted past. He let out a small chuckle and smirk.

"Suppose I'd looka fool either way...Sometimes its easiest to ask fergivness than permission"

By the time he had set his paw on the venerable deck, the Bosun had too retired to the Captains quarters, leaving the meager crew to return to their work as two sodden beasts climbed the rigging toward the crow's nest.

"Huh...Poor creature must've also been in the splash zone."

Swifttail took one last moment to compose himself. His muscles tensed and shook slightly as he faced toward the nearest available crew beast.

"M...My name is Swift..t...tail. I'm here to enlist in the Navy under Her Majesty Empress Amélie I!"

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue was the nearest crew beast who seemed interested enough to care. He was a young fox around Swifttail's age, if not a few years younger. He was dressed in fancy and colorful clothing: a purple doublet with a white undershirt and jabot, with blue pantaloons and a large brimmed cavalier's hat adorned with a long feather, and he had a beautiful blue lute hanging off his belt. The ship's performer, perhaps?

"Swifttail, hmm? I'm Silvertongue! Silvertongue Songfox." Silvertongue took Swifttails' paw in his own and gave him a hearty handshake. "An absolute pleasure to meet you! I think the Captain has some business he is attending to, but I'll make sure you get introduced to him as soon as he is freed up." He motioned for Swifttail to follow him onto the ship. "We're going to need as many hands as we can get, from what I've heard!"

Silvertongue lead Swifttail over to the Captains cabin. "You just sit right here. I'm sure the Captain will get to you just once he is done with his business!"

With that, he removed his hat and bowed to Swifttail, before turning and dashing off to attend to some other business.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail blinked as the flamboyant fox took his paw in a firm shake, the unexpected warmth of the gesture catching him off guard. He had braced for cold indifference or a curt dismissal, but Silvertongue’s enthusiasm was… disarming. The bard’s attire—so vibrant, so utterly impractical for hard labor—stood in stark contrast to the muted, worn fabric of Swifttail’s own garb.

“Silvertongue Songfox,” Swifttail echoed. He tightened his grip in return, feeling the slight roughness of a working beast's fingers. “I appreciate the help.”

With a dramatic flourish of his feathered hat, Silvertongue motioned for him to follow. Swifttail’s paws moved before his mind had fully caught up, his instincts wary but his determination unwavering. He let himself be led through the organized chaos of the deck.

Before long, they reached the captain’s quarters. The door loomed before him, polished yet weathered, much like the ship itself.

He tipped his hat once more in an elegant bow before sauntering off, his tail bouncing after him.

Swifttail exhaled slowly, lowering himself onto the deck next to the captains door. His claws drummed against his knee as his eyes drifted back toward the docks, the scene still alive with movement.

He was here. He had set foot on a ship again.

Even now, his mind tugged at old scars, trying to drag him back to the Reaper’s Howl, to the terror of that final night and the despair of being stranded at sea. But the Golden Hide was not that cursed wreck. This ship stood strong. It thrived. And unlike that harbinger of death, this ship was a ship of Her Majesty Herself. If it were to go down, then the fates truly were against him.

His ears flicked as a gull cried overhead, its voice lost in the din of the bustling port. Swifttail’s tail uncurled slightly along the ships wall, grounding himself in the present.

Now, all he had to do was wait...

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

As Ralynn left the office with her thoughts, and likely more than a little crushed with her spirit, a morose Talinn reflecting on how bad of a beast he was deep down was looking forward to taking another shot of the 1729 rum Gyles had provided. Yet as he watched the Bosun leaving, he spotted a platinum-furred fox waiting outside his door, apparently waiting to meet him. He glanced around, looking for Silvertongue to introduce the beast, but his aide was nowhere to be found. He sighed. It was Silvertongue’s first day, after all, but this was part of his job. He would have to talk to him later.

“You, there, come forward!” Talinn announced, leaning back in his chair, hoping that whatever this crewbeast or potential recruit wanted was relatively straightforward and without controversy like everything else that seemed to be going on today. When the todd had approached his desk, Talinn glanced up at him with his tired blue eyes meeting the other fox’s, and he spoke once more.

“Well, fellow, what is your business here with the Captain today?”

@SwifttailTheFox

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had been dozing, his mind drifting in sluggish eddies of thought, when the door to the captain’s quarters swung open with a creak. The brown-furred rabbit who emerged looked shaken, her face pale. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, barely registered him before she hurried past, the wooden planks creaking beneath her retreating steps.

Swifttail stood up with a start, his ears flicking forward. He hastily straightened his tunic and adjusted his satchel before turning his gaze to the open doorway. A figure sat half-hidden in the lantern glow. Their eyes met—sharp, piercing blue against a shadowed face, tired yet brimming with the weight of years. Swifttail hesitated, words catching in his throat. Should he speak? Introduce himself?

He didn’t have the chance.

"You, there, come forward!" The voice was measured, quiet—but it carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

Swifttail swallowed, his tail twitching behind him as he stepped inside. The captain’s quarters smelled of old parchment, gunpowder, and oil from the intricate devices scattered about the room. He stopped a respectful distance from the desk, hesitated, then dipped into an awkward bow. His satchel, poorly secured, slid from his shoulder and thudded onto the floor. He ignored it, standing stiffly as if that alone would make up for the blunder.

Talinn regarded him for a moment, then leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Well, fellow, what is your business here with the Captain today?"

"G...G'day, m’lord." His voice cracked slightly, and he winced, ears flattening before forcing himself to continue. "I see yer a b—busy man, what with the voyage prep ‘n all, so I’ll keep this short."

He took a breath, forcing himself to meet those icy eyes. They were unreadable. Watching. Judging. Swifttail’s stomach churned.

"I'd like t'enlist, sir. As an officer of Her Majesty's navy."

A silence stretched between them. The ship groaned.

Swifttail licked his lips. Was he making a mistake? Any beast with sense knew the stories. The lives lost at this fox’s command. The blood on his paws. And yet, was it not justified?

"I... I ain't much of a fighter," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I can fish, an’ I’m quick with my paws. I’ve a knack for fixin’ things, learnin’ things..." He gestured vaguely toward the steam-driven mechanisms scattered about the ship, his tail curling slightly. "I seek honest work."

He let the words settle, resisting the urge to shift under Talinn’s unwavering stare.

And then, he waited.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn watched as the platinum-furred fox approached, noting his coloration as he did so. Northern Fyadoran heritage somewhere in that bloodline, or perhaps elsewhere in the northern regions of the globe? At any rate the young todd tried to be respectful, even if he initially stammered and dropped his satchel. That was a marked improvement from the two crewbeasts he just had to deal with, so he was inclined to be a bit kinder than he normally was. Rubbing a paw across his eyes as he listened to the fox finish up telling him about himself and his desire, he sat back and thought for a few moments.

“An officer's commission..." Talinn slowly pondered, blue eyes fixing upon the young todd. “...and what experience do you have in leadership roles and on ships, Mister...?"

@SwifttailTheFox

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

The shock of realization hit Swifttail like a powerful jolt of lighting, strong enough to break him from his attentive stance as his shoulders drooped as his paw instinctively went to the bridge of his nose as he rubbed his eyes.

"Oh hells teeth! I didn'a mean t'say officer!" He groaned.

Realizing that he had 'broke attention', he jolted back to his stiff stance.

"Me Lord, I've not been but led me entire life..." He paused, realizing his second mistake of not introducing himself.

"M—me name is Swifttail, sire. Todd Fairpaws fer formalities. I'd be deckswap or empty bedpans if a 'ad to. My inclination is simply ta be aboard such an impressive ship."

With that, he took at unintended step backward, feeling very much out of his depth. How could he have made such a stupid error!? Him, leading other crew beasts around? Perhaps after years of service and boot licking, but for now his lack of prose had led him to backtracking himself to a possible assignment of tasks befittent of a chambermaid. He wished he could curl up and vanish from that stuffy cabin. Awaken again at the cheap inn he had been staying at, checking himself for fleas before trotting off to retry at meeting his destiny.

Confidence shattered, he forced himself to stand there under the captains stern, judgemental gaze as he waited for his words to be his demise.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

@SwifttailTheFox

Talinn was not a stranger to awkward beasts in his time as a military commander and duke, and, indeed, it had actually become even more common among the younger generations he had noticed, which this fox seemed to be. The solar disturbance and the spread of plagues since 1748 had decimated the world’s population, leading to many, many kits being orphans and effectively having to raise themselves, which often led to numerous quirks and many personality issues. At least he had, sometimes, Alexei to train him and mentor him growing up, for all he knew this fox might have had no one.

Deciding to ignore the mistake as the Navy desperately needed every volunteer or volun-told beast it could get, he repeated the last part of his original question, continuing to look intently at the strange fox.

“Very well then, but what experience, if any, do you have on a seagoing vessel? Be truthful, Mr. Fairpaws, if you do not have much we can train you in short order, but honesty, now that is a much harder thing for beasts to learn.”

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

His effort to keep his eyes fixed on the Captain's gaze failed him at the repeated question, and Swifttail looked down at the floor like a kit being scolded for pinching a nip of food before dinner was called, ears folding back slightly and tail tucking down to the backs of his legs.

"W-well...me only true experience aboard a ship was as a galley slave, sire. Three seasons chained to an ore before I mercifully escaped wit' me life. Aye, n' I still 'ave the scars on me wrists an back to prove it."

He rubbed a wrist as his last statement.

"Back in Isk..." His eyes misted over slightly, a waver suddenly apparent in his voice. "I-Iskatyut...there used to be whaling ships ev'ry once in a while. However, me father an mum told me to focus on me craft an not bother meself wit' the likes of sailing."

Swifttail took a deep breath before he continued, voice somewhat stronger as he forced himself to again look the captain in the face, though he no longer held his body in a stiff posture, instead defaulting to his paws nervously grasped together at belly height as his shoulders slumped.

"When those murderin slavers...pillaged and b-burned me village an' abducted me, I 'ad only set paw on deck one time prior, but I was still wet behind me ears then, an it wasn't more'n a days outin'"

Swifttail paused again, taking note of the captains expression. It was indeed difficult to read, especially for a fox who had lived most of his youthful life in a sparsely populated village with very limited outside contact. Indeed most of his social skills had been developed in the last half a decade he spent in the VI, and he still had a ways to go in the subtleties of complex facial expression, especially amongst militarily trained beasts. He was smart enough, however, to recognize the look of boredom, no matter how small it presented.

"H-however...me father 'ad me apprenticed to the village blacksmith, sire. Was gettin' to be fairly decent at the basics too."

Swift stifled a small giggle, a small smile forming on his lips and his tail wagged momentarily as the memories of home flooding back to him as he continued.

"Me h'uncle requested I build him a still out of some copper he received in trade. Was near done too when... ...I was lookin forward to tryin' whatever spirits he was thinkin to try an make wit it..."

With a small sniff, and his tail stilling again, we nervously waited for a response.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Even as Swifttail dodged looking at him initially, Talinn continued to study the much younger todd, carefully taking into account his his shifting emotions and stance. Awkward, and a bit nervous and submissive, but those were things that could be worked on over time, and the beast seemed truthful enough which was the most important thing to him. He cocked his head a little bit in interest when he mentioned where he was from and his blacksmithing skills, few beasts seemed to be from the far north where whales were these days as compared to the past and this expedition needed those familiar with the weather and conditions up there. The new naval steamships that were slowly being rolled out always needed beasts with basic familiarity with metalworking. Of course it was unlikely the fox would be able to do any more than patchwork repairs on the complicated steam system to begin with or just get the basic concept of the difference between alloy and carbon steel smithing when taught to begin with, but that was far, far better than the average beast, and smiths even of his modest caliber could repair things like hinges and other things and perhaps do basic armor and weapon repairs. That was enough for Talinn to accept him.

Of course, it is not like I do not have sympathy for his backstory, either, but many beasts have sad tales about their upbringing, including me. Still, best to be kind to him initially, especially after today, you have to balance justice and mercy as a leader, and I have already handed out justice today.

Speaking more softly in an attempt to settle the beast’s nerves, Talinn spoke.

“Very well, Mr. Fairpaws, I have adjudicated you fit to join her Majesty’s Navy, at the rank of provisional able seabeast, should you accept. You will be assigned to the ship’s engineers and Master at Arms as their mate, or apprentice in common parlance, though you will have to work out the exact split of your time between the two between them. They will teach you the basics of steam engineering and further your blacksmithing skills respectively. You will, of course, have to spend extra time learning the basics of sailing as well, such as knot tying and the like.”

He paused, moving two pieces of parchment over to his desk, and writing down all the pertinent information the fox had told him quickly with his quill.

“There are various contract lengths, but the standard one is one year, with an option to renew at the end of it for different lengths, along with enlistment bonuses. For you and your particular assignments with the armorer and especially the steam engineers, you will earn 350 gilders, for the standard enlistment bonus 100 gilders, plus 80 gilders starting monthly salary, payable immediately upon the signing of your papers and the taking of your oath, for a total of 530 gilders*. There are numerous other benefits available to you such as free healthcare, free clothing, free basic arms and armor, free lodging aboardships, food, and various benefits with the Ministry of Commerce including banking and loan services.”

*Around $16,000 USD in 2025.

He paused, looking directly at Fairpaws with a rare shine in his eyes.

“Should you do well in your position wish to advance your skills in blacksmithing and especially steam engineering, the Ministry of Innovation, once you have proven your steadfastness by service, offers scholarships to the University of Length on Vulpinsula, Scholar’s Point and Peltarra on Westisle, or the Ministry’s facilities on Magh for further training, depending on your preference and the Ministry’s needs. Upon the completion of such training, many very well-compensated jobs are available for you.”

Talinn paused, taking a sip of water from the glass on his desk as he finished up the paperwork, then handled offered the quill to Swifttail.

“The choice is yours, Mr. Fairpaws, all you have to do is sign your name below, or, if you are unable to read, sign an X. Do be noted that, if you are unable to read, you must learn such before any of the more advanced opportunities I spoke of become available to you.”

@SwifttailTheFox

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail had to blink a few times as Captain Talinn finished speaking. Not just to clear his vision, but to keep himself grounded. To make sure this wasn’t some frostbitten hallucination brought on by too much time in the cold and too little food in his belly.

He didn’t look away this time. His orange eyes met Talinn’s, and there was a shimmer in them now, earnest and unhidden. His tail gave a slow, wavering flick behind him, betraying the pulse of energy suddenly coursing through his wiry frame.

“Aye, sir. I accept.”

His voice didn’t tremble, but there was a pressure behind it, like something dammed up behind his chest was cracking loose. He reached for the quill with steady but deliberate movement, paws callused from years of rough labor but surprisingly deft for one so young. He didn’t even hesitate as he bent over the parchment and signed his name.

Swifttail Fairpaws.

A name he’d earned clawing his way back from the edge. No inheritance. A family name simply a memory.

He wished he had someone to send the gilders to. His mum, perhaps, still weaving pine needle and sinew baskets beneath the low beams of a smoky cottage. A village elder to whom a few coins might've meant a warm fire through winter. But they were all gone. Scattered or dead. He’d never know which, but almost certainly the latter.

“There’s no one,” he said softly, more to the spirits than to Talinn. “Not anymore. Me village... it’s gone. Nothing left but ash and bones.”

He said it plainly, as one who’d lived with the truth long enough to let it settle in his bones. There was a sadness to it, but not self-pity. Just the cool acceptance of a chapter already closed.

“But this...” he glanced down at the contract again, a faint, almost incredulous smile curling at the edge of his lips “...this means a roof, a job, a real crew an responsibilities. I haven’t had that since… seemingly ever.”

And now the smile broke free, soft and genuine.

“I’ve been sleepin' on dirt an' rotting wood for five years. Working whatever job would feed me. Some days, that meant being a fisher. Others, a thief. I did what I 'ad to, just to keep going. This…” he shook his head with a small breath of disbelief, “…this is better 'n anything I thought I’d find. And I don’t care how hard it is. I’m ready.”

He stepped back, straightened his posture with a visible sense of pride, and added with a touch of youthful enthusiasm, “You’ll not regret the choice, Captain. I won’t let ye down.”

And perhaps, beneath it all, behind the steady voice, the grateful smile, and the confident stance, there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite believe his luck. But it didn’t matter.

He had his name on the ledger now. He had a future.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn listened patiently to the younger todd, then smiled softly as he rolled up the necessarily paperwork and put both his own personal ducal seal and that of the Ministry of Innovation on it. One copy for the Ministry of War, one to Amarone for the archives. Seemed like a good young lad, if a little bit unsure of himself, and grateful to be part of the Navy and the Imperium as he should be. The nation had its dangers, but also its opportunities. Forty years ago, one beast, much like Fairpaws before him, had washed up on the Imperium’s shores and sought employment on the Hide, broken, desperate, with no family and no coin. And now his family had ascended to the highest echelons of power in the Imperium, if step by painful step. Who knows what the future could hold for this platinum-furred todd before him?

“Welcome aboard, Swifttail.” Talinn replied, unusually warmly for the Captain, likely because he had already dealt with so many troublesome beasts today and this one was refreshing in comparison. “Are you ready to take your oath of office? Once you do, I will find somebeast to get you settled in.”

@SwifttailTheFox

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail’s ears perked at the warmth in the Captain’s voice, his chest swelling with a quiet pride he hadn’t felt in seasons. He gave a small nod, then straightened his posture with practiced care, his tail flicking once behind him before settling.

“Yes, sir,” he said, voice firm but sincere. “I’m ready.”

And he was. For the oath. For the work. For the life that waited beyond the horizon.