The Urk Expedition

[Greeneye]

Greeneye knew exactly what Ralynn was up to. She needed to have a firm paw to keep a crew in line. He didn't care for it one bit. He'd never been an underling to a woodlander before now, but he decided to go along with it for Silvertongue's sake.

"Aye aye, Marm." He raised a paw saluted her, though he was almost certain he did it wrong. He stood in silence for a moment before starting to look around for any buckets to use.

@Duke Talinn Ryalor @Gyles @Ralynn Waverunner @Vihmastaja @Morgan Liu

 

[Vihmastaja]

Regret had already dominated Vihma's features by the time Ralynn marched towards her, eyes full of fury.

Still, she didn't break her salute until the rabbit's fist hit her right in the gut, the weasel immediately keeling over. The blow wasn't the hardest she'd taken - no doubt there hadn't been the intent of delivering that - but it still almost sent her to her knees, fighting for breath.

Winded as she might be, trying not to embarrass herself more than she already had, Vihma could still listen to the words around her, and Ralynn's orders to her - so much also a speech to the crew - made her heart sink. Here she had finally found a way to start again, on a new ship with new officers, and already she'd gained a public reprimand and a public - and particularly embarrassing - punishment. That Morgan was alongside her, suffering the same punishment, only reminded herself of the shame she felt for letting her get into such trouble.

Returning slowly to her feet, the weasel was sure to avert her eyes from either Morgan, Silvie or Greenie - really any of the beasts present. Still, she gave Ralynn her acknowledgement, nodding acquiescence without protest or indignation. She hadn't really the heart to say anything more, lest she make her situation any worse.

Hesitantly, though far more for shame than any deliberate slowness, Vihma set about undressing herself, revealing gradually less navy blue and more of her wild, vibrantly colored fur until finally arrived at decency's gracious limit. It took all her resolve not to try to cover herself more, with her paws or her tail, and the weasel could only stare out into the ocean far away, lest she meet the eyes of another beast and embarrass herself more.

So much for her fresh start.

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Morgan watched, horrified and infuriated, as Vihma was struck just for speaking up for her. She clenched her fists, having to hold herself back from swinging at the bosun. When Ralynn declared that Vihma would join her in her punishment, though, she felt a different emotion: shame. If she'd been a little less proud, a little more circumspect...

No, she reminded herself fiercely. They had escalated this matter at every turn. At any point, they could have simply taken her aside and advised her that she'd crossed a line. She would have taken the lesson gladly, and used it to perform better. They had instead decided to make an example of her purely so a vindictive, vicious fox long past his prime could pretend he was still feared. He'd probably have picked some other beast to rake over the coals if she hadn't spoken up for Silvertongue and Greeneye, just to make an example before the crew. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Recognizing how embarrassed and ashamed Vihma was in this position, Morgan reached out and grabbed her paw, squeezing it tightly. She tried to convey as much as she could through body language and her determined expression: they were in this together, and they would come through it together. Morgan would make sure of that. She glanced over to Greeneye and remarked, "Hurry up there Greenie, I'm overdue for a bath. Y' need me to help you draw water? I'm up t' work up a sweat."

 

[Greeneye]

“Hell’s Teeth…” Greeneye muttered under his breath. After a moment he found the buckets, and he attempted to tie one to a rope. Which one would assume to be quite difficult for him considering he only had one hand.

However, with the grace of a beast that had lived with one hand for many years, he gripped one end of the rope in his mouth before tying off the rope properly. After tossing the bucket overboard, he planted his metal prosthetic foot against the railing and dragged the bucket back up before carrying it over and dropping it next to Morgan and Vihma.

While Ralynn wasn’t looking, Greeneye leaned in to whisper to the two of them. “Aye, if’n it means anyfink… I’m sorry. Yer only in trouble cuz of me outburst back dere… ye ought to understand dat der Cap’n is makin’ an example of the two of yas in order ter keep der crew in check. If’n he thinks in the same way me farder does, der only way to garner respect is through intimidation. Not dat I agree wif it at all…”

Afterwards, he quickly went back to collecting more buckets. Though each bucket took him a few minutes at least.

First it was one, then two, three, then there was a dozen buckets of sea water sitting grouped up next to the two young beasts. Greeneye started to wonder what he would do if he ran out of buckets.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat despite how much he extra work had to do with the task.

“Well, ladies, I hope ye brought some soaps and perfumes, cuz I reckon ye’ll be stinkin’ up der place after we dump half der bleedin’ harbor on ya.”

Greeneye said aloud to them, chuckling a bit awkwardly as he dropped down the twelfth bucket. He was clearly trying to make light of the situation for their sakes.

@Morgan Liu @Vihmastaja @Gyles

 

[Gyles]

Realizing what Vihmastaja was doing, the young stoat officer hastily averted his eyes before the whole show was on display, flushing slightly. Only a few short days before, it seemed they had been back-to-back, fighting shadowy villains in Bully Harbor's alleyways and rescuing a Duke. She'd seemed like a real firebrand then, a force to be reckoned with with that bow of hers. He hadn't envisioned her ending up like this - not that the sight itself was a shock, but - well, shameful stuff, wasn't it, seeing a brave creature reduced to such a low? He scoffed to himself. Bravery - she wasn't short on that. Anyhow, she'd come between a furious rabbit bosun and the end of her rattan of judgement, and that meant taking certain necessary proverbial licks. He turned away.

Like Talinn, he felt a flash of - What was it? Pride? - as the new bosun, Ralynn, exercised her authority. The whole ship was capsizing before their eyes, it seemed, and here she was, trying to right the whole topsy-turvy thing singlepawed. The enthusiasm for the mission was just the sort of thing he shared dearly with her; accolades and adventures were rarely had at anchor in Bully Harbor with half the ship up in arms. He approached the warrant with a businesslike nod. "Bosun Waverunner. Good show. We've had enough distractions for the day. I believe we've got a mission at paw, ain't we. S'pose half the warrants fled or couldn't be demmed to appear with Minister Ryalor now our resident bigwig-in-chief, Devil take 'em. Once the punishin's done, gather your senior seabeasts and send word to the Purser and Master Prizzack for the debriefing the Captain-Minister had in order before this whole unfortunate flippin' affair went tail up. By Jove, could even make Urk shores before the worst of it if we hurry it along. Understood?"

He reminded himself to consult Lieutenant Tultow of the marines at some point to arrest that insufferable insubordinate Banvane for letting things fall this far apart, clap him in irons, and set him before a tribunal on returning to Bully Harbor. His Golden Hide could be so much better than whatever it had become - was so much better. Now that the old captain was so unceremoniously stripped of rank and tossed out on his tail, well. Now was the time to set things right, purge the other dead weight, and get underway.

@Ralynn Waverunner @Vihmastaja @Duke Talinn Ryalor

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Just as Greeneye had sat the twelfth bucket down, Silvertongue returned up the stairs, his gloves tucked neatly into his pants pockets as he held a tray. Arranged on the tray was a plate of a beer battered cod, joined with sliced potato wedges with a bit of parsley on the side. A second place sat next to the first, and a large loaf of bread was sitting on it. Next to the two plates was a large glass filled with water, with a single slice of lemon sticking onto its edge. Lastly, there was a little paper cup of tartar sauce. Balancing the tray with one paw, he shielded his eyes with the other, walking blindly across the deck once more, still refusing to look at Morgan or Vihma as he managed to make it over to Talinn's table without bumping into anything. Grabbing the tray with both paws now, he looked at the deck as he sat the tray down on the table in front of Talinn, then took a handkerchief from his other pocket and wiped his paws. "Your meal, Captain."

@Duke Talinn Ryalor @Ralynn Waverunner

 

[Ralynn Waverunner]

Ralynn's nose twitches in suppressed anger at Morgan's chirp to Greeneye. Heat rises beneath her golden fur, a simmering resentment surprising in its intensity. Her mother would have doubled the punishment for such insolence, and that now seems entirely reasonable to the rabbit. The deck boards creak beneath her as she shifts her weight, the sound almost lost beneath the gentle slap of harbor waters against the hull.

A bunny bosun isnae respectable, Ah'll warrant, she thinks bitterly. Aye, make a fool o' tha wee woodlander, all chirp an' cheek. Weel. It cannae be so. Tis a long voyage, an' Ah've mah work cut out fer me, s'truth.

She stands firm as a figurehead, paws clasped behind her back, meeting the eyes of Morgan and Vihma each in turn. The afternoon sun casts her shadow long across the weathered deck, while the briny scent of harbor water mingles with the sharp tang of fresh tar from recent repairs. Her gaze seeks to impress both regret and determination upon the two half-dressed beasts before her.

My will is equal tae yours, her stare conveys. Ah'll take it as far as Ah have tae. But it doesnae have tae be this way. Ah'm nae yer foe.

As Greeneye brings the first bucket, Ralynn takes it without acknowledging the new crewbeast, her attention fixed solely on the miscreants before her. The wooden handle is rough against her paw pads, the weight of seawater straining her muscles.

"Ah wannae be clear to all," she says loudly, her voice carrying across the suddenly silent deck, "this couldae been a slap on tha' wrist!" She heaves the bucket, sending a cascade of cold seawater over the two beasts. The water strikes with a shocking splash, darkening the deck planks beneath them. "A mild correction, stand a' attention fer a bit, don't dae it again."

Without looking, she hands the empty bucket back to Greeneye, her voice clipped and hard. "Another."

As the next bucket comes, metal scraping against the deck, she continues, "It has escalated because ye—" here she looks Morgan dead in the eye, fury and disappointment warring in her gaze, before dumping the bucket's contents over the pair, "—have escalated it with continued disrespect and violation of the Naval Code and the ship's order."

Again she hands the bucket back, leaving the two to stand in their soaked skivvies, fur plastered to their bodies, water dripping onto the deck in steady pitter-patters. The law must be seen to be upheld, so all knew of its teeth. The assembled crew watches in tense silence, many shifting uncomfortably, a few nodding in grim approval.

"Order, an' tha' chain o' command, is all tha' keeps a ship afloat deep at sea, durin' hard times."

Another bucket arrives, sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Perhaps some o' ye may be thinkin' tha' a woodlander, an' a rabbit no less, isnae tha' one tae enforce this order. Mayhaps ye be thinkin' me soft." She dumps the water with methodical precision, droplets catching the sunlight like scattered jewels before they strike. Her sodden victims flinch as the cold water hits them anew. She hands the bucket back to Greeneye, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Ye'll find tha' tae be a mistaken assumption. Ah grew up aroun' old salts that'd make tha' lot o' ye walk tae the other side o' tha' street if ya saw'em in daylight. Ah knoo how tae keep order, an' Ah will be obeyed even if ye cannae respect me."

The rest of the punishment she administers in silence, determination guiding her every move. She strives to maintain a Navy stiffness and purpose to her movements, to make them known to be forced by duty, not sought for pleasure. The only sounds are the splash of water, the gulls crying overhead, and the occasional creak of ship timbers.

Finally, after twenty buckets, she speaks again, her voice quieter but still cast to be heard by the assembled beasts, and no less firm. The front of her uniform is spotted with spray, her paws damp and slightly raw from the repeated lifting.

"It is mah wish fer us tae be true crew, an' Ah'll die bleedin' fer any one o' ye. But test me at yer sorrow. Fer Ah can be as fierce a foebeast as Ah am a shipmate." She tosses another bucket on them, the water now chilling in the late afternoon breeze that sweeps across the deck. Then finally, seeing the two as thoroughly soaked as the ocean floor itself, she points to the rigging, the complex web of ropes stretching skyward against the cloudless blue.

"Noo, climb tae tha' crow's nest as tha' minister has ordered. Ye'll stay there until called for. Let it be a lesson in how ye are tae act towards superior officers." She turns now to Greeneye, looks him straight in the eye, then gives what she hopes is a respectful nod. She's made her point, hopefully. But she has to give respect to receive it, she knows. She fears it may be too late with the other two, but duty is sometimes a cruel mistress.

Her ears stand rigid, awaiting compliance, while the dripping of water from the punished beasts' fur marks time like a mournful metronome.

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan caught the solemn condemnation in Ralynn's gaze, a passing of the blame onto the young ferret and an absolution of her own responsibility - as if literally carrying water for a minister who, if it were Ralynn who had infracted, would probably be punishing her just as severely right now if not more so on account of her species, didn't make the rabbit a fool and a patsy for forces who didn't care for her existence any more than it cared for Morgan's. The young ferret hated how these beasts ruled by turning them against each other, promising one a reprieve as long as they abused another. Thirty years earlier, Ralynn would have been slain on sight by this Imperium. Did she really imagine that the Imperium had changed that drastically over a mere three decades? Didn't they still call themselves the Vulpine Imperium, clearly signaling who belonged at the top - and, by omission, who belonged below?

Morgan braced herself for the water, but the cold still elicited a gasp from her. She could take pain; pain was burning, searing even, a reminder that you were alive. The cold, which was even worse in the aftermath of the water than it was in the initial splash, was an entirely different sensation. It was searing in a different way, scalding, like being forced to hold one's paw in boiling water. Morgan gritted her teeth, trying to prepare herself, to hold herself strong for Vihma, but even then, she couldn't keep herself from flinching as the next bucket washed over her.

Morgan missed the majority of Ralynn's speech. It was hard for her to pay attention past the cold that was dominating her focus. Every bit of her was screaming to find shelter, to cover herself, make herself warm. By the twelfth bucket she was a sodden mess, miserable and soaked. Every bucket after that was just soaking again what little evaporation had started to wisk away. When the twenty-first bucket landed, she was already shivering, clutching herself about the chest to try to preserve what little warmth she could. She couldn't muster the energy to glare at Ralynn, or her egotistical master; all she wanted was to get through the ordeal as quickly as possible.

She moved to the rat lines and, focusing on moving to generate some heat in resistance to the cold, she began to climb, hauling herself up rope by rope. She'd never been up this high before, and was swiftly discovering that she didn't like it. The ground was swimming beneath her, partly from fear, partly from the cold seeping into her. Still, she kept going, climbing ever higher toward crow's nest. The wind up here was biting, only accelerating the coldness that was biting into her flesh under her fur. She gritted her teeth, focusing on just making it up the last leg of the climb. When she reached the lip of the crow's nest, she considered reaching down to make a rude gesture at the crowd gathered below as a last show of defiance, but she cowered away from that reckless impulse. After all, that malicious fox could decide to leave her and Vihma up there all night, or forever if he wanted, and while Morgan might get lucky and weather one frigid night, Vihma would never survive it. It was the weasel jill who Morgan had to focus on protecting.

As soon as she was up, Morgan turned to offer Vihma her paw, helping to pull her up. "'M so s-s-sorry," she managed to get out, her teeth chattering. "L-l-let me squeeze th' w-w-water from yer f-f-fur, so yeh don't f-f-freeze faster. Then h-h-huddle up wiv' me fer warmth, alr-r-righ'?"

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma almost flinched feeling Morgan grasp her paw, turning her eyes from the sea to look at the ferret beside her. Morgan. She seemed so resolute.

There was a passion to her that she still didn’t understand. The ferret’s first act in the harbor had been to launch herself into a fight for her – a fight she had no stake in, no reason to join. That was rare. The weasel had wondered if she’d have done the same, if the situation had been reversed. She still wasn’t sure. Maybe. Probably not – but she was here now.

She made as though to speak, but the words didn’t come, didn’t form in her mouth, and the chance was gone before she could try again, as Greenie returned with the buckets to be used for their punishment. He tried to be courteous, and to lighten the mood with a joke, such as Morgan had to him, but Vihma only looked away again, trying to ignore her own existence for the time being.

Whatever she did, it seemed to work – at least until the cold water hit her.

Vihma heard every word of Ralynn’s clearly then, the jolting shock of the first bucket enough to make the weasel gasp. She was already shivering by the third or fourth bucket, icy water soaking through more of her brilliant fur with each douse.

What restraint she’d had to resist trying to cover herself up from the eyes around her evaporated as soon as the cold air became the external threat instead, though her efforts did little good.

She looked at Ralynn then, watching the bosun as she carried out her punishment, pleading with her eyes to finish quickly. The time between the last bucket and the order to climb seemed to stretch on to forever, but Vihma stood firm and waited, unwilling to let her impulses draw her into further trouble. When the order did come – permission to move about seeming better than being forced to stand in the pool of icy seawater – she nodded once more to the rabbit before going on her way.

Morgan was faster. The ferret always seemed to get ahead of her, somehow. Or perhaps she was just slower. She’d climbed up the rigging of a vessel such as this many times before, and in colder weather too, but try as she might her shivering body seemed to constantly miss the right rope the first try, or took too long to pull herself upwards.

She’d been through worse, hadn’t she? Maybe. Maybe not. She’d never been dressed down to skivvies on the rigging. Certainly not in the cold, soaked with freezing water.

When they finally arrived at the crow’s nest, Morgan already paces above her, she took the ferret’s offered paw without hesitation, scrabbling up the last hurdle of rope and wood with her assistance.

Damned if it was cold. She wanted to curl herself up, to try and hide herself from the winds that filled the sails below. Instead, she latched herself onto Morgan, clinging tightly to the ferret as tears ran down her muzzle.

“Y-ye i-idiot! W-why!?”

Between her shivering breath and broken sobs, the weasel was barely able to speak, paws pressing deep into the ferret’s soaked fur as she forced out each broken word.

“Tr-tryin’ t’ get k-k-killed?”

She’d heard Morgan’s martyrdom speech. Seen the way she stood up to the officers, the hateful way she’d looked at them. The haughty, determined resistance she'd offered the whole way. It wasn’t hard to imagine what punishment could have come instead. She’d clung to another beast like this once, years ago. Blood had soaked her fur then, and her wailing pleas had gone forever unanswered.

Despite herself, despite her shivering, her anger, all the bottled-up fear from before flooding out all at once, her voice was nothing but hurt when it came again, and soft – barely overcoming the wind.

“Why?”

 

[Morgan Liu]

Morgan's eyes widened in shock at the tone of Vihma's words. It was the hurt in them that surprised her; hurt not at Morgan for landing her in this predicament, but at the ferret for landing herself in trouble. Morgan was quiet as that one word question rang in her ears long after the wind had carried it away. She focused on running her paws through Vihma's fur, trying to squeeze the water from it bit by bit. If she didn't get the weasel at least a little bit more dry, then the cold would set in far quicker, maybe even lethally. Morgan was far bulkier than the lean jill, an advantage when it came to keeping some of her precious body warmth inside. She stood a halfway decent chance at surviving; Vihma did not.

"It w-weren't r-right," she answered at last. "'Ey th-think 'ey kin t-t-treat us l-like we ain' r-real b-b-beasts jus' c-cuz we're b-born d-d-differen'. 'Ey d-did th' same th-thing t' M-mother, 'n ran 'er outta th' Imp-p-perium ferrit. Now 'ey got e'en w-w-woodlanders thinkin' if 'ey do th' f-f-floggin', 'ey'll be s-s-spared. 'Ey won', th-though. 'Ey'll b-beat down anyone wot d-doesn' treat 'em like 'ey're V-Vulpuz's bloody 'eir j-j-just cuz 'ey're born a fox."

She finished squeezing as much of the water out of Vihma's fur as she could, enough so that hopefully it would dry quickly enough for the lean jill to survive. "L-lay down," she bade the jill, gesturing to the platform protected by a small wooden basket rim. It wouldn't keep the wind out entirely, but it offered at least some protection. "Ah'll s-s-shield yeh wiv m-my body."

 

[Vihmastaja]

Vihma was silent too, shivering as the ferret ran her paws through her fur. It wasn't an answer, but it soothed her mind. Morgan wasn't gone - wasn't dead. She was right here with her. A bit of warmth in a cold world.

The weasel let her work, almost frozen in place, but becoming more collected - and less soaked - as the ferret continued. No longer choked by sobs or blinded by tears, she thought to try and work her own freezing paws through Morgan's wet fur, only for the answer to come at last.

Vihma didn't know what to think of it. Maybe foxes ran the imperium, and maybe, aye, they ran it for themselves. Well, somebeast had to run things, and it wasn't going to be her. That was life. Take what you could from it - and keep your head down. There wasn't much more anybeast could do about it.

Still, she didn't say as much to Morgan. The way her teeth chattered, and she shivered against the wind, she didn't much want to speak at all. Even trying to return the favor she'd been dealt had been too difficult - too cold. When the ferret asked her to lay down, the weasel was hesitant. She didn't want to move, to feel the cold wind in places momentarily shielded. It took a great purchase of willpower just to pull away from Morgan, no matter how shortly. Despite so much water being gone from her fur, she felt infinitely colder without the sandy-furred ferret against her, even laying down where the wind couldn't hit her as much. After such effort, speaking seemed comparatively easy - perhaps necessary.

"Y-ye c-could've d-died."

Vihma was still angry, deep down, still frightened, more by what had almost happened than anything that could come now. But it was all for nought. She needed Morgan, perhaps more than any other beast, no matter how close she'd come to throwing her life away.

"W-what w-would I tell y-y-yer m-mums?"

What about me, she thought - but kept to herself.

 

[Duchess Dusk Rainblade]

Morgan waited until Vihma was settled before laying herself atop the weasel, trying to shield Vihma with as much of her own body as possible. The wind was awful, but she at least had the consolation that, if she passed out, she'd still serve to blanket her friend. She stiffened as she heard Vihma's words, the truth of them ringing in her ears. She'd been reckless, she knew it; she could imagine very well what both her mothers would have said upon hearing of her predicament. "Y-y-yeh'd tell Mum tha' I d-d-died standin' up f-fer meself," she managed to get out, "an' tell M-m-mother tha' she w-were righ'- I'm j-j-jus' a screwup, jus' l-l-like she were. A-a-apple don' fall f-f-far f-from th' t-t-tree an' all th-that."

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn watched the entire spectacle go down, contrary to what Morgan, Vihma, and Greeneye might think, not with some kind of sadistic pleasure, or perhaps only a bit if he were to be honest, but with a look of genuine concern flashing across his face. It was clear the beasts on the Hide had spirit, but that was not enough to survive what was to come-and that was only the threats he could fathom, not the unexpected they could run into. He had seen plenty of beasts their age and younger die horribly thinking they knew better their than officers or due to a lack of discipline. For their own sakes, he had to be harsh, and he was glad Ralynn was his instrument. Definitely marked for promotion in the future, both as a sign of the Empress’s more inclusive policies and because of her skill.

After the last bucket of water had been poured on the two and they began to climb the rigging, Talinn pulled out his golden pocketwatch, carefully maintained over sixty years and recently upgraded at the MinoInn’s facilities near Amarone, and checked the time. Then, he twisted a few golden buttons on it, setting the timer for one hour, and showed it to the Songfox before speaking and placing it down on the table before him.

“I do not know if you know how to tell time from this device from where you hail, and if not I will instruct you later, but you shall stand watch to make sure they do not come down and in one hour there will be a loud chime from it. At that point, Seabeast Morgan and her companion may come down, or, if they cannot manage, be hoisted down. They are then to be taken belowdecks, to the infirmary which is kept at a warm temperature due to the steam pipes, remove their wet clothes and be given new ones, and then given fresh blankets. Make sure they initially only wrap the blankets around their core, after a little while you may let them wrap it around their extremities as well. You may offer them warm drinks or broth, but such must not be alcoholic.”

Talinn paused, taking a drink from the big glass of water, before continuing.

“Failure to do the above according to my exact instructions could put your fellow crewbeasts at severe risk of injury or death, which is not my intention, and if such occurs, you will be responsible for it. So memorize what I have said and keep it close to your heart for now and future use in particularly cold conditions. Obtaining such knowledge was…” He paused, face darkening for a moment. “...costly.”

Taking a knife and slicing off a portion of the cod and then placing it on his fork, he dipped it into the tartar sauce, then placed it in his mouth. Surprisingly good, he thought, and his face brightened a bit as he continued to eat. After a little while, he spoke to his new aide once more.

“Once they have recovered, which should be in around an hour, they will have another hour, perhaps an hour and a half, to come up with their performance for the crew. The first part should be something lighthearted and comedic for the most part, either through tricks, jokes, antics, song and dance, or general buffoonery. Keep in mind the audience is not the most sophisticated and tends to like...’earthier’...elements to their comedy. The second part should be showcasing some kind of skill, whether that be with weaponry, rope, acrobatics, or some other useful and entertaining ability they might have.”

He paused, perhaps midway through his meal, and continued.

“You, and recruit Greeneye, if you wish to sacrifice some of your leisure time, may assist them in the planning and operation of the show. After it is done, their punishment will be concluded. At such point send both of them to me. And with that, Aide Songfox, you may take my watch and go to your assigned watch until it chimes. It seems that ten minutes have already passed.”

Waving the Songfox away, he continued his meal, finishing up most of it, and then turned to Gyles, whom he had noticed the slightest flicker of...something...earlier. Perhaps he had unwittingly broken some kind of new naval protocol? It had been over a decade since he had last commanded a ship himself. Much must have changed. He gave him something of an apologetic nod.

“Mate Stowett, while I have been both a seabeast and commanded as an officer in the past, my duties since the coronation of the Empress have left me precious little time to keep abreast of all the developments in the reformation of our Navy aside from their more technical aspects. Thus, my experience, while in general terms still being relevant, might miss some of the finer details, given that it occurred back when the Navy’s state was a bit more...rough...as it were.”

He poured a glass of rum, and then offered it to the stoat.

“As such, please forgive any statutes I may break, and bring them to my attention, and for now, please bear my leaning on you until such time as things are a bit more in order aboard the Hide. Clearly, the former Captain was...substandard...to say the least.”

Hoping he had made peace with the stoat as he took another glass of rum and then swallowed it, he spoke once more.

“We shall hold the meeting in the Captain’s quarters if you have no objections, this time with marines posted at the door to prevent any unwelcome interruptions.”

@Silvertongue Songfox @Ralynn Waverunner @Morgan Liu @Vihmastaja @Gyles

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue was fixated by the golden watch, his eyes widening. "Shiny. Shiny. Take the shiny." A voice spoke in his head. Not his own voice, but something much more primal, more feral. A feeling he had suppressed since birth. Instinct took over and without realizing it he was reaching out for the watch, his claws coming dangerously close to the trinket, but he suddenly yanked his paw away with a flash of shame washing over his face. He quickly retrieved his gloves and put them back on, as if to hide the parts of himself that were a fox.

When Talinn dismissed him, Silvertongue gingerly took the watch in his gloved paws, staring at it with fascination once more as he nodded silently to Talinn, saluting and stepping over to his assigned post.

@Duke Talinn Ryalor

 

[Gyles]

For a moment, Gyles still had his eye on Ralynn - her enthusiasm, even overzeal, for the punishment notwithstanding, the rabbit boatswain would need some education in the bird's eye view of things if she was to become a more advanced officer- a great Navy creature knew when to focus on the fine details of beast management and to realize when those fine details distracted from the more pressing mission soon to begin. No matter - there would be more than time enough for everybeast to learn their share on the expedition so soon to unfold.

As Talinn addressed him, Gyles nodded graciously, drawing his brilliant officer's uniform tight by the broad lapels. The wind off the Sea of Calamities played havoc with his auburn-brown fur, buffeting it up against the grain here and there in wayward tufts. "La, I should say so, Excellency. That's how it is for all of us, ain't it - a few weeks away from the Navy's enough, let alone years. Come back to enough changes to make your head spin! As long as we're underway, that's all that bloody well matters, ain't it, sah. I say, won't do for your crew to bandy about like a bunch of biddies at breakfast; if I may, as you know 'tis the way of sailors who sit at port too many seasons, unruliness and blinkin' sloth of every sort. In my experience, nothin' like a riveting voyage into dangerous seas to whip 'em into shape in short order. Make true, hard, and perilous seabeasts out of pups." He checked his own timepiece, a tarnished silver pocketwatch with faint engraving on its case. "Bosun Waverunner will gather all her cohorts and meet us. Instruction will be sent to Lieutenant Tultow of the Marines to ensure we're... undisturbed for the business at paw."

@Duke Talinn Ryalor @Ralynn Waverunner @Vihmastaja @Morgan Liu @Silvertongue Songfox @Greeneye

 

[Ralynn Waverunner]

Ralynn stands stiffly, watching the half-drowned beasts struggle up the rigging, her expression impassive despite the storm of emotions churning beneath her golden fur. The knotted ropes of the rattan hang loosely in her grip, dripping seawater onto the deck in a steady pattern that matches the drumming of her heart.

When she had accepted the position as bosun, she had thought only of the boat-related duties—checking the rigging, maintaining the sails, overseeing repairs. She hadn't considered at all that she would be in charge of discipline, and she finds now that she doesn't care for it. There's a bitter taste in her mouth, like chewing on oakbark, as she watches the two jills' halting progress up the rat lines.

The musk of wet fur mingles with salt scented air and ship's timbers as nearby crewbeasts cautiously return to their duties, many throwing wary glances at the rabbit. Ralynn's ears twitch at the whispers that follow, too low to make out but clearly discussing what they've witnessed. She feels committed still, not wavering from her dedication to both the ship and the navy in general, but truly feeling the burden of being in charge of crew in a way she didn't expect.

Only when the two miscreants safely reach the crow's nest does Ralynn allow her rigid posture to ease slightly. She turns to Talinn and Gyles, the rattan tapping against her leg, leaving damp spots on her uniform trousers.

"Och, bit'o unpleasantness, tha'," she says, her voice pitched for their ears alone as the sounds of normal shipboard activity gradually resume around them. "Tha' beast Morgan, sir, Ah dinnae knoo if she'll be o' benefit tae tha' boat."

Ralynn's brown eyes track up to the crow's nest, where the two soaked forms have disappeared from view. "Ah could see tha' resentment and blame ain her eyes e'en as she turned awa' tae start climbin'." The wooden planks creak beneath her as she shifts her weight, the ship responding to a gentle swell from the harbor. "Ah'll dae wha' Ah can tae make peace wi' the auld jill an keep i' from festerin', but she'll warrant watchin' Ah'll wager."

Her paw tightens on the rattan, knuckles whitening beneath her fur. "She'd a' kept escalatin' wi' further cheek an' open contempt fer yer Grace an' the rest o' tha' officers, right' in front o' tha' whole crew, if 'er frien' hadnae come tae be caught in her mess." A shadow crosses her face as she remembers the defiance in Morgan's eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw. "Ah appreciate tha' mettle, an' Ah've nae wish tae break a breast sae braw. But tha' was a mutiny speach if ever Ah haird one. Aye, if times were hard an' we far fraim hoome, tha' sort o' speakin' may sink tha' ship."

As she finishes speaking, Ralynn stands at attention again, awaiting her superior officers' response, trying not to think about the two shivering forms huddled above them or the strange mixture of duty and disquiet churning in her stomach like the harbor waters against the hull.

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn was grateful towards Gyles for backing him and showing him a little bit of leniency, although he could never say such publicly, it was important for one’s subordinates to genuinely respect their superiors and commanding was much more of a two-way street than most in Amarone or even the younger generation in the MinoWar who had not been through the fires of war like he had. He simply nodded as Gyles looked at his own pocketwatch, reflecting on time. So much to do to shore up the Imperium for the wars to come, and so little time. Always so little time.

“Good, Mate Stowett, I will proceed to the Captain’s quarters now.” Another brisk nod, and Talinn was already on his way back. They had already wasted too much of the day on Seabeast Morgan’s nonsense. Now was the time to get to business.

Arriving back at the spacious and well-appointed cabin, Talinn took out the key and unlocked the door, the assigned marines following behind him and taking up their post at the door. A new addition to the Navy, but one of the reforms that he thought was good. Clearly these days the officers needed an iron fist to assist the Bosun in maintaining order, and the heavily armed marines, even with their comparatively small complement, would do wonders for repelling potential boarders and giving the ship a stronger ability to project power further from the shore. Reaching his desk again, he carefully relit the candle, then sat down.

Before the entire crew assembled, he motioned for Ralynn to step forward to the front of the desk, then gave her something of a woeful smile before addressing her. In some ways he felt responsible for her, bringing the hopeful little rabbit into the Navy at his recommendation after their adventure in Alton Bay and giving her enough money to feel secure enough to leave her family there and get started.

“Oh, trust me, I am well aware of Seabeast Morgan’s feelings…” He offered a rare public sigh, voice warmer than usual and sounding quite tired as he talked to the Bosun. “...that type exists, always has and always will. Not always with the worst of intentions, and if steered correctly, could become a great asset. But they have to learn discipline, have to know they need to trust their officer’s words, learn to follow before they can lead. One wrong-intentioned refusal to follow orders can indeed damn the ship or the battalion…”

His eyes and tone darkened for a moment, reflecting on the Imperial Civil War, his own war on Westisle, the infamous Winter War of the 1730s which had brought the Empire to its knees, and more.

“...and has in the past. To some degree, I understand her, a beast who spent her formative years in the peace paid for by blood, too young to have served. But the world is becoming more dangerous, and every year, more of us who know who to operate in that world pass away. We have to pass on the lessons learned before it is too late, or another generation will have to pay the price to learn it by paying the highest price."

He took a paw and rubbed it against his brow knotted in thought before continuing.

“I will speak to her and her companion later in private, perhaps with your assistance, after everything is done, and we shall see what measures to take, and if she will listen to reason.”

He motioned for Ralynn to step back as the rest of the appropriate officers and warrants entered the room. Then, nodding at Gyles, he stood, placing is paws behind his back.

“Now we can finally begin our briefing. Our destination today is the frozen island of Urk.”

He paused, letting the silence sit for a moment, before he continued.

“Little is known about the island and consequently we have had had little reason to visit it over the decades. It does not have a significant enough amount of timber to be worth establishing an outpost, is too cold for farming or fishing except at the most subsistence levels, and has a notoriously hostile native population of shrews who are rumored to engage in cannibalism, ritualistic or otherwise.”

Reaching out a paw and tapping on the map of the Imperium on the desk, he continued.

“What it does have, according from a rare account of a survivor who escaped the island whose account has just been discovered in the Ministry’s archives, is a cave, and in that cave is an idol carved from the stone found deeper in it. That idol has, according to the account, been submerged in a small pool of water fed by a stream, where it emits a strong blue light that lights up the cave. That in and of itself is a curiosity, but not enough to warrant an expedition. What does is the fact that Urk has never been known to have hot springs, and that this idol apparently warms up this pool and creates quite a bit steam by itself.

He stopped, letting those words sink in, before he continued to clarify, a rare smile breaking out across his face.

“Steam power, at a fraction of the size and cost of coal or lumber, if we can unlock the secrets to that idol and its material. Massive savings for the Navy and even regular beasts. Imagine, a world where steam pipes are not fitted just on ships like the Hide, but warming the water and homes of even the most modest beasts in the Imperium-a world where nobeast might have to worry about freezing in the winter. That, my friends, is certainly worth risking one’s life for!”

Taking a breath, he paused once more.

“Are there any questions, or shall I continue?”

@Ralynn Waverunner @Silvertongue Songfox @Duchess Dusk Rainblade @Vihmastaja @Gyles