Open The Bilge In The Bucket Under His Wing

“Oh, my Uncle Chokra!” Silvertongue nodded. “Yes, of course I know him. Is he looking for me?” Silvertongue looked past Corda and Berchar, scanning the docks.

“I could have sworn I told him the name of the tavern I was staying at… did he ask you two for help?” Silvertongue turned back to the two beasts before him. “He’s not too worried, is he? I’d hate to make him worry.”
 
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Corda frowned at the new information. Chokra already knew where Silvertongue was? But then why had he gone searching for his nephew as if he hadn't? "Sir," she asked, keeping her voice quiet, "is there anyone else in your family who might be searching for you? The beast we encountered claimed to be your uncle, but he seemed to have no idea where you were." She glanced to Berchar, checking for his reaction to this strange development.
 
"Sir?" Silvertongue asked with a chuckle. "Oh, Sir!" Silvertongue repeated in a posh mock voice, before letting out a hearty laugh. "Please! You needn't call me Sir! Just call me Silvertongue. When we become friends, you can call me Silvie." He smiled, before Corda's question gave him pause. "Well... my father... he, um... passed away. And I haven't seen my mother in a very long time." He explained softly. "The only other beast that I can think of is my father-in-law... but that's a different beast entirely."

He seemed very troubled. "I can assure you, if the beast you met claimed to be my Uncle Chokra, then it is him. Please, I do appreciate what concern you beasts have for me, but my Uncle... as off-putting as he may be... I know he means well. I'm not surprised he forgot where I was staying. He takes to the drink more often than not."

Silvertongue's eyes flicked to the ground, the smile wiped from his face. It was the truth. But not the whole truth.
 
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Berchar looked to the vixen with concerned bemusement. If this had all been a misunderstanding and news of the todd’s uncle welcome tidings then there was no harm done: the best possible outcome would have happened. It was tempting to leave things there. After all, any guilt was assuaged on his and Corda’s part, so why not walk away?

He wanted to. He almost did. Something still bothered him though, and seeing the vixen’s equal uncertainty followed so soon by Silvertongue’s sobering expression bolstered his gut instinct.

“If I may,” Berchar replied gently, “your uncle seemed…quite the character. Not only did he get involved in a bar fight, but he seemed very intent on finding you…to a degree. Once we offered to help find you, he seemed to, ah, lose some urgency. Was he always known for being eccentric? Myself and my friend were simply…concerned.”
 
Corda nodded her agreement as Berchar voiced what had been nagging at her. "If he was worried about finding you," she remarked, "it vanished the moment we were on the case. We were a little worried he might be a bounty hunter posing as your uncle." She smiled ruefully, but the expression was a bit tight. "That's somewhat paranoid of us... isn't it?"
 
"A bounty hunter?" Silvertongue asked with an eyebrow raised. "I'm- I'm fairly certain I don't have a bounty on my head. Nor am I wanted for any sort of crime. I will apologize for my uncle's eccentric behavior. He is a pirate after all." Silvertongue dropped this bombshell on them as casually as one might bring up the weather. "Though... I suppose he took care not to mention that. Whoops." He looked a bit sheepishly between the two.
 
Corda almost didn't notice the lede as Silvertongue buried it with a sly trick. When the word finally caught up to her, her eyes widened, and she glanced to Berchar incredulously. "A pirate? An actual pirate? As in a lawless bandit of the seas - one prone to murder, pillage, and rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrravishing?" The mortification on her face warred with the blush of embarrassment. She didn't want to imagine living on a ship captained by such a beast; after all, she was a refined young vixen, and certainly didn't think about such things, nor pour over certain chapters in some of the more interesting paperback novels her mother had given her.
 
Gnawing on a claw anxiously as he listened, Berchar’s long ears at first stood stiff with alarm at the mention of this Chokra being pirate – then reddened with Corda’s colourful description. Some part of him felt scandalised; another fondly recalled his sisters giggling over such topics in the study on a long summer’s afternoon.

“W-well, I certainly wouldn’t know anything about ravishing,” he mumbled, coughing awkwardly before hastening to continue, “but…Well. He rather was worried about you becoming, what was it…apprehended by pirates?” His nose twitched, unease setting back in as panicked thoughts began to rise. “You don’t think…he’s in trouble with other pirates, do you? You might become, uhm...leverage.”
 
Silvertongue sighed heavily. "It's a very long, very complicated story. I don't want to discuss it here." Silvertongue leaned down to collect what meager earnings he had gained from his work today. "Care to join me at one of the local restaurants? I could go for something to eat."
 
Corda nodded, looking about and squinting to try to make out any of the blurred lights at the end of the dock, trying to discern which ones were restaurants or taverns. She'd always been better at seeing things up close than far away; it wasn't that she was blind or couldn't tell in broad strokes of color what things were, just that fine detail was lost. "Does anything in that direction appeal to you?" she inquired, gesturing at one collection of dark squarish shapes with various yellow and orange blobs that might be windows into brightly-lit rooms.
 
Long and complicated though the story purported to be, Silvertongue’s answer was evidence enough of one thing: their instincts had been worth following. Far though the truth may yet prove from their assumptions, Berchar felt some relief to know that he and Corda had not elected to ignore their concerns. Clearly there was a tale to be heard.

The mention of food caused the jerboa’s long ears to twitch; he was ever fond of a good meal, and though his budget rarely stretched to indulgences tonight seemed as good an occasion as any to enjoy something hot. Standing on tip-paw, he squinted after the direction Corda was looking. “Can’t say I know much about the places in this area,” he confessed, “but I’m hardly choosy. Lead on: a meal sounds perfect.”
 
Silvertongue didn't have a preference, he just ducked into the first restaurant that wasn't overly crowded. Finding a secluded table in a dark corner, he lead his new companions there. Sitting down, he sighed heavily and looked at the both of them. "My uncle Chokra is a pirate. It's true. My father was one too, and his father before him."

Silvertongue was ashamed to admit it, but these two had- supposedly- met his uncle. Which meant the truth would have come out regardless. "I myself grew up on a pirate ship, with my mother. It was not as glamourous as you may think. We struggled as a family."

He took off his hat, looking at it fondly. "This fancy outfit, Mother worked so hard to get it for me. I was the best dressed beast on the ship..." He smiled ruefully. "Even if all the other beasts ridiculed my appearance..."

He sat his hat back on his head. "Two years ago, the Captain planned a raid on a seaside fortress. My father was his second in command. He advised against it, but the Captain insisted. It went poorly. My father..." Silvertongue swallowed. "He passed. And I fled from the battle. I left Mother behind. I didn't wish too, but I was certain I was going to be killed too. I knew that Uncle Chokra would keep her safe, but I still feel guilty about it, all these years later."
 
Corda listened closely to the fox's narrative, trying to piece together where exactly the story was heading and how it explained the involvement of the pirate. "So," the vixen inquired, picking up the menu and perusing it in an attempt to stave off the waitress coming their way, "your uncle is trying to find you because you fled? Do you think he is trying to kill you?"
 
Ears and tail folded neatly so as to take up as little space inside the restaurant, Berchar listened in silent fascination. Pirates had rarely been a concern of his, so rarely had he spent time at sea, but that did not mean the threat had never been made obvious: this gentlefox was walking a tightrope. Dangerous stuff.

He did not express as such in words, but the jerboa’s eyes softened with empathy to hear of Silvertongue’s remorse for fleeing. Poor beast: he knew well enough how the need for survival could get its claws in a soul. He wondered briefly of his own mother and how she might be faring. Such a thought was swiftly discarded: he did not want to consider the very real possibility that she had met an unfortunate end.

Though intending to keep his mouth shut, Berchar couldn’t resist adding his own opinion. “He seemed a gentlemanly sort, but…he did fight with quite the ferocity. Even if he wasn’t trying to harm you, would you want to go back?”
 
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