Open Imperial Army Barracks/Imperial Condos When Duty Calls Me I Must Go

[Perila Z. Mogul]

The ferret grinned at her, taking a moment in between his own physical efforts to give Rhana a wink.
"I know where I can get you one," he said, before making another jump and landing again. "If you're game."
The recruits were drilled 'til dusk.
They did stretches to keep their joints in shape, they performed a spear drill in which they moved and dealt blows in formation. They did crossbow training, including short and long range target practice and firing in formation- in which one rank would loose bolts, and then fall back to reload while the rank behind them replaced them.
By the time the sun slipped bloodied behind dark clouds and the temperature dropped, the recruits were soaked in sweat, some of them sagging in exhaustion, others shivering.
The Sergeant admonished them on the sorry state of their damp uniforms, congratulated them on their hard work, and then sent them back into the canteen for a meal of roast pigeon and whole baked potatoes before they were all sent to the barracks.
Rows of simple wooden double bunks each equipped with two simple, cheap Contemporary chests for private effects.
The room was scant of decor besides a massive banner of the Vulpine Imperium kepi, skull and crossbones draped on the farthest wall facing the doors, and the words painted above it:
"OUR LIVES AND YOURS, FOR THE IMPERIUM."
Outside was a clothesline, a scrubber and a washtub, and each recruit was expected to clean and hang their uniform before heading inside, wearing simple white tunics and breeches for underclothes.
The burly and defeated ferret Aginpole limped to his bunk whilst glaring daggers at Rhana, the rat Sulfer F. Todkin bunking above him and yawning widely.
The marteness Ames Gladdenberry leapt into a top bunk near the center, a weasel friend of hers bunking beneath her.
Skeered of Nothing Tomas and Thalia bunked together a few beds down from their marteness foe, speaking quietly before Tomas stretched, yawned with sharp fox fangs shining and said, "Sean in a ballroom gown, am I beat!" before stripping off her shirt and leaping into bed.
The Red Beret ferret shoved a rat aside and grinned again at Rhana, indicating a double bunk across the room and a couple bunks down from Aginpole and Todkin. "Real good bunks, right 'ere. Let's share 'em 'n' talk a while. Name's Fisher."
Aran, meanwhile, was running out of options quickly as bunks filled up. Only a few spots yet remained, including one in which he'd be in the top bunk directly under the banner, a lower bunk four bunks down from Tomas and Thalia, and another in which he'd be upper bunk right next to the wide-doored entryway.
"Thirty minutes before lights out!" The one-eyed stoat Corporal Colfax called, before slipping back outside to finish his cigarette.

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu had taken longer to scrub his uniform than most, treating it with care to rub with the weave and not against it, and that cost him in time to pick a bunk. His eyes scanned the options, dismayed by what he saw. If he bunked just under the banner, would it be seen as performative, given his country of origin? He could make as many enemies by being seen as a brownnoser as by being a rebel. There was also the matter of being on a top bunk versus a bottom bunk. Either one could be surrounded, but on a top bunk one could fend against any attackers from the high ground - but also have less capacity to flee and escape. There was always the position by the door, but any drafts that came through the door would be right on him, and if anyone left to use the outhouse, he'd hear the noise loud and clear.

While he was paused in contemplation, his inaction cost him the choice. The bunk nearest the door was claimed, as was the open position down from Tomas and Thalia. Reluctantly, Aran Mateu crossed the room, all the way to the bunk at the far end. The immaculate maroon uniform his father had made for him was stored in his chest, along with a small kit for maintaining his clothes. Perhaps, he reflected, he could make a few allies by repairing uniforms and darning socks.

With a short time left before lights out, Aran Mateu considered his options. Rhana, the stoat who had fought in the canteen earlier, was talking with that ferret who she'd spent the afternoon beside. If he went to Tomas and Thalia, would they try to rope him into taking revenge on that other pine marten? Maybe he should warn her about the threat against her instead, so she could prepare herself. He shook the thought free of his head. That would win him no friends and only make enemies. If he was to survive in this unit, to have a real shot at someday marching with this army into the next war against Alkamar, then he needed to prove himself a reliable ally.

He moved down the row of bunks, stopping next to Rhana - hovering, not turning fully into the conversation. "You did good today," he said softly. "Watch yourşelf tonight. That ferret, Aginpole, might come for revenge."

 

[Rhana Redd]

By the end of the day Rhana was exhausted. The training and drilling an empty stomach pushed her to her limits, and she was happy enough to get through the day. Though they'd had a much better meal for dinner - and one without interruption, thank the fates - it didn't do much to put spring back in her step, and by the time she was finished cleaning and hanging up her uniform she was feeling the call of a nice soft bed - or whatever the army approximation would be.

Aginpole had been discharged from the infirmary, and she watched him warily as he limped off to his bunk. She'd have to watch out for him, lest he want to pay her back for their scuffle during lunch, but for now she figured she was safe. It'd take a while for beasts to want to put their necks on the line for him after he'd lost their fight.

To her surprise, the Red Beret ferret from before was really making an effort to win her over.

"Rhana," she said, returning his grin with a tired smile of her own, letting him lead the way over to the bunks he'd chosen.

"You want the top?"

The stoat didn't quite trust him fully, and the trade off in security from bottom to top bunk more favored the former, in her book. If Fisher was for real, he'd come down to help her from the top if she got attacked in her sleep. If he wasn't - well, it was harder to fend for herself if beasts pinned her from below the top bunk. On the bottom, she'd hopefully be able to strike back some.

There wasn't much time for talking before Aran came over again, though. She breathed a little laugh at his soft congratulations, only to narrow her eyes at the warning.

"Tonight? Ya don't say..."

She looked sidelong back to Fisher, speaking only a bit louder than Aran had - enough that both of them could hear if close enough.

"What'd'ya think of that, Fisher? Aginpole coming back for seconds?"

Rhana's mind moved quickly - quickly as it could on one full meal and a day full of work, anyhow. Aran was an obvious foreigner, and a bit of a loner, so far as she knew, though he'd seemingly made some friends. The marten had stood up for her earlier, too. He didn't have much to lose by helping her, and almost nothing to gain by misleading her. Fisher, on the other hand, had been all smiles since they'd met, but he had allies outside - and probably inside - the army, assuming he was a genuine beret. She'd have thought he'd side more with an out and out patriot like Aginpole, and wondered idly if she wasn't being lured into a trap of some sorts by him.

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

Fisher looked up where he was crouched over his chest of personal effects. "Th' jack ya beat senseless? Heheheh. He'd hafta be a fool ta. But just in case..."
He slid a small crabbing knife, long-handled with a short, sharp blade, across the floor. It skidded to a halt at Rhana's feet. "That should keep ya safe, covey."
The ferret looked up at Aran, and his eyes glistened balefully, his smile more of a sneer. "How 'bout ye, kharrie? Ya want some protection against your... varied detractors?"

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu felt his fur bristle at the slur, and he decided against mentioning the ganive tipal knife and stick pair he'd stashed under his pillow. "I'll take my chances," he stated shortly. He paused, considering pointing out that he wasn't Alkamarian, but instead he moved on. Something told him that rebuttal would go about as well as it had with Calaisee's gang.

He approached Tomas and Thalia's bunk, averting his eyes as he noticed that Tomas was shirtless beneath her blankets. Foxes weren't his type, but still, his adolescent sense of embarrassment around the female body made him blush at even the exposure of her shoulders in that fashion. "Şo," he asked quietly, "what's the plan? We're moving after lights out, right?"

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

Tomas grinned at him, lying with her paws tucked beneath her head and one leg crossed over the other. Thalia sat at the foot of the other vixen's bed, holding a thick book.
"Aran! Was wonderin' when ya'd come by. Tal was just readin' me about... what was it?"
"Polton B. Fons' Th' Brewry Codex." Thalia said shyly. "About how to make your own alcohol."
"Yeah." Tomas grinned sleepily. "She's got a good readin' voice. Yeah, couple hours after dark."
The vixen dropped a paw down to a small burlap sack tucked halfway under her bed with a wicked smile. "Gonna finally put pay ta her fer talkin' ta my friend like that."
"Aw, Skeer." Thalia said, blushing and thumping the bed with her wagging tail. "You know you really don't have to, but I love it when you do..."
"Real sucker fer bloodshed, this 'un." Skeered-o'-Nothing winked. "Ya still down ta join us, Aran?"

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu watched the pair interact, intrigued by something in their body language. Were they perhaps...? He knew that such was permitted among the Vulpinsulans, though he'd never known anyone with such preferences before. Miklar was more traditional when it came to such things; while a certain amount of fooling about was to be expected in adolescence, the expectation was that by maturity, the youths would settle into more traditional relationships. Aran Mateu had to assume it was because of a cultural emphasis on having enough kits for the next generation to defend the homeland. Why his parents had then only had one kit, he'd never figured out. Come to think of it, his father did sometimes stay out late drinking with that butcher down the road, and his mother seemed very involved in looking after the young widow Mrs. Nesbit two doors down...

Aran Mateu shook those thoughts out of his head before they could upend his world. "I'll join you," he confirmed. He needed allies of some kind here, and the pair of vixens seemed the least likely to turn on him or abandon him. "What şignal chould I wait for? Maybe the şound of the door opening twice? A şequence of coughs?"

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

Tomas laughed raucously, so much so someone grumbled "Whaat?" before she shot a glare their way.
The vixen then turned to look back at Aran, gave her bare shoulder a scratch while flashing him a toothy smile.
"Yer a funny beast, Ar." She said quietly.
"Th' signal's gonna be me pokin' ya, an' then th' crack of a brick 'ittin' that slopbrain's 'ead. Ever 'it somebeast like this afore? Me pa calls it "given 'em night terrors", heheh, 'e'd do it in th' Navy all th' time. They'd all do it fer fun, even, sometimes, swingin' bricks in socks around. Can't do much else fa fun when yer at sea."
"It's a slow life," Thalia nodded. "Not like this. I bet we'll always be moving 'n' doing things, excepting for guard duty. But then I brought dice!"
The crimson-furred maid dug around in her undergarments, and drew out a pawful of bone dice. "I carved them myself before I signed up! I always keep them on me, in case somebeast wants to play passage, or knucklebones, or bunco, or beat-the-pigeon, or street-trash, or bloodbash, or ungovernable warfare, or farkle. Do you play any games, Aran?"
"Er, answer me first," said Tomas, gazing at her friend quizzically.

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu struggled to follow the conversation for a moment; Vulpinsulan speech had such a strange manner of winding through several topics at once, and even after so many years in the Imperium, he sometimes found himself hard pressed to follow the thread of narrative. It took him a solid moment to remember what Tomas's question had even been. "Uh, no," he admitted. "No, I've never done that. In Miklar, that şort of thing isn't encouraged. We wrestle a lot, we practice ambuches, but hitting each other with bricks isn't our way. And, well..." An expression of slight embarrassment came over him as he admitted, "I haven't had any friends in the Imperium. No one wants their kits playing with the 'kharrie', I'm chure you can imagine." It pained him to even paraphrase the slur, though he suspected he'd be hearing a lot more of it from now on.

"We do have dice games in Miklar, though," he confirmed to Thalia. "I've şeen Vulpinşulans playing on the ştreet, and şome of those look şimilar to ones I know. Maybe just different names or şlightly different rules, I don't know."

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

"Aw." said Tomas, climbing out of bed and enveloping him in a hug. "Well, ya do now, pal. Me 'n' Tal, we're yer friends."
Throwing an arm over his shoulder, she rubbed the marten's scalp with her knuckles. "And if ever ye get any trouble from others about bein' a khar- sorry, a Miklarian- ya just let us know. We watch out fer our mates, don't we, Tal?"
"Sure do!" Thalia confirmed brightly, shaking abd rolling the dice in her paws as a stim as she smiled at him. "We've got your back, Aran! You should teach me some dice games you know sometime. I carved these from a dead shark I found once, it was covered in garbage!"

 

[Rhana Redd]

Rhana bent to pick up the knife, eyeing it - and then Fisher - with more than a small hint of surprise. She hadn't thought personal weapons would be allowed, even one as small and dinky as the crabbing knife. Idly she wondered if using it wouldn't land her in more trouble than taking a beating while she was vulnerable.

She said nothing as the ferret gave Aran some parting mockery to remember. The stoat just watched the marten walk off. He was a measured beast, for sure. She wasn't altogether sure what went on behind his dark eyes, what he saw in her, or why he'd try to help her.

"Thanks," the stoat said back to Fisher, tossing the knife up just far enough to do a little spin before catching it again in her paw - a practiced pastime of her younger days, though with larger blades that balanced better. Tired as she was, she was lucky not to cut herself doing it wrongly.

"I don't think he'll be back. Either of 'em, I mean."

Rhana sat back on the bottom bunk and stretched, taking her shirt off before laying back on the bed. It wasn't the softest she'd ever slept on, but it would do. Appearing to fluff up her pillow, she slid the gifted knife under it, to be reached at a moments notice when needed - and stowed before any inspection in the morning.

"Good t'know I've got friends here, yeah? How about you? Ya got any buddies of yours from your outfit around here?"

She tracked Fisher with her eyes, wherever he went and whatever he did, despite her appearing relaxed. Giving her the knife had been a good start to earning her trust. It didn't win it entirely. If he was willing to give her the one blade, what did he have for himself?

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

"Better not." said the ferret, tonguing the gap in his teeth as he watched Aran leave. "Kharrie sure is tryin' hard to be yer friend, but ye won't fall for that... will ye, mate?"
Fisher let the question hang dangerously as he tucked something into the back of his pants and shoved his chest back under his bed.
"Aye," he said, glancing slowly around the room for a moment before smiling and winking at the stoat. "We got more friends 'n' just ye 'n' me, mate, ya c'n count on that. For as many Ryalor parasites as there are in Bully 'n' as many fleas as there are on them, there's more o' us."
He nodded to the bunk across from them, and the bunk to the right of them too. "Let's jus' say we got good bunkin' arrangements, eh? An' Aginpole ain't gonna bother ye none, so long as ye've us aroun'. 'E's jus' a big lug, I'm shore 'e unnerstands..."
He leaned in slightly, smiling thinly and meaningfully with an eyebrow crooked. "That what ye 'ad was jus' a big misunderstandin'... right? We're all on th' same side 'ere. Tell me so, Redd." The ferret's nose twitched as he stared at her, his gaze boring into hers. "I need reassurin'."

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu started at the origin of the dice. Did sharks even have bones, he wondered? Would they be like fish bones, all thin and bendy? He couldn't imagine that making for good dice. Then again, even if Thalia was making the story up, it was still a good one, and she still had the dice. So, he supposed, it didn't matter whether or not it was true.

"I'll şertainly teach you what I know," he promised, "just maybe once I learn from you. It's eaşier that way." He hesitated before lowering his voice, glancing across the room at where the ferret was talking to Rhana. "Do you know anything about that one?" he inclined his chin briefly to indicate who he meant. "He şeemed... I don't know, different." There was something about the ferret that gave him the chills, maybe the combination of animus and the hint of capacity toward inflicting harm. Suddenly Aran Mateu didn't feel nearly so good about being well on the other side of the room from Tomas and Thalia."

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

"We can do that." Thalia beamed.
The two vixens sat on the edge of the bed together as Aran inquired on Fisher.
Tomas frowned, as Thalia only fiddled more. "Best stay away from that ferret, pal. Skeered-of-Nothing said quietly, shaking her head. "'E's got... some friends around 'ere, including among th' officers. One o' 'is mates, Illa Rothide, used ta live on th' same block as me. Peddled drugs fer th' Red Berets. She'd shank foreigners as a point o' pride."
Thalia shuddered and whispered. "Foxes, too. I hated visiting Skeered there, we'd see her across the street all the time."
"Then Sterny got 'er." Tomas shrugged, and pulled a cigarette out from a pack under her pillow. "As it goes. Point bein', stay away from th' Red Berets. An' Sterny, fer that matter." She shrugged and lit the cigarette, took a puff.
"'E's a nutter." She sighed, releasing the smoke, and gestured toward a bunk across and another bunk down closer to the door, where a heavily-scarred older stoat was lying staring at the top of his bunk in total silence.
The rat bunked above him was quaking in very visible terror and clutching a broken broom handle to her chest.

 

[Rhana Redd]

Rhana wasn't too tired to miss the ferret's motions, nor the subtleties of his expression. For the most part, she just watched him, listening, a passive, polite smile against the veiled threats and dangerous posturing.

To Fisher's last question, she appeared almost confused.

"What, that we're on the same side?"

The stoat laughed a bit uncomfortably, though perhaps not enough to betray her understanding of what the question was really asking. More like a creature caught making a faux pas she hadn't known about.

"What side might that be, luv? Sorta figured we'd all joined the same army."

She knew playing dumb might not be the safest option. But her eyes were tired, innocent enough. She'd not survived the war where so much of her bloodline hadn't to be daft when it mattered. The cause that had taken itself up deep in her heart could stay secret when it had to. As long as she drew breath, it had a chance to live on the outside again.

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu's eyes widened at the pair's warnings, trying to parse through all of the myriad aspects. "Wait," he asked, lowering his voice. "There are beasts who hate foreigners and foxes both? But isn't the Imperium fox-majority, or fox-run at least? The Empress is a fox." He glanced over at Sterny's bunk, following their gaze. The stoat certainly seemed disconcerting... but then, if he'd killed one of these 'Red Berets', maybe that made him an ally? Rannhu fam tra rannhu clam, do ves clam. He who is his enemy of he who is my enemy, he is my ally. "What does Sterny have against the Red Berets?" he asked quietly.

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

@Rhana Redd

Fisher gazed at her a little while longer, studying her face, and then he chuckled and leaned over to pat her arm. "Aye, that's right, we 'ave. Some beasts are just truer to th' cause than others, ain't they, Redd? So long as ye make th' right friends, make th' right choices..."
The ferret winked. "Ye'll get along 'ere jus' fine. 'Ey..."
He touched a balled fist to his shoulder.
"To th' Imperium. Rest easy, comrade. Ye're safe t'night."
The ferret climbed up to his bunk, the wood groaning slightly as he made himself comfortable.

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

@Aran Mateu Jan Vidal

Skeered's expression turned even more concerned at the marten's follow-up question.
"Seriously, Aran, steer well 'n' far away from that stoat. They call 'im Sterny th' Stabber fer a reason, any liddle thing c'n trigger 'im into a blood-fest. 'E's sick to 'is noggin. 'E's got a thing against everybody. My advice, jus' steer clear from Fisher an' Sterny both an' jus' catch some shut-eye. If anythin' 'appens, we're right over 'ere."
"Yeah, Aran, you're okay." reassured Thalia, slipping out of Tomas' bed to stand and stretch. The vixen yawned, and then slipped her arms around him too for a brief hug, wagging her red tail amiably. "I'm glad you're here. We've got your back, just be smart."
She ruffled his ears as she released him. "Go get some rest."

 

[Perila Z. Mogul]

"Alright, lights out!" The one-eyed stoat corporal called, as he strolled down the rows of bunks, putting out the lanterns above with a lamplighter's stick. "Get plentya rest, another busy day tomorrow. I hear a peep from anybeast, they're spendin' their lunch scrubbin' pots in th' mess."
Everybeast slipped into bed and a silence fell over the place along with the darkness, soon only broken by snores and the occasional rolling in the stiff, rather uncomfortable bedding.
Some hours in, footpaws slipped out of a bed further down, and crept over to a bunk.
Aginpole slipped a large paw over Rhana's muzzle, and in the dim darkness, the stoat could just make out a finger going to the ferret's own muzzle for silence, his beady eyes staring fiercely. Something was tucked in the crook of the ferret's left arm, something short and hefty. A club?

Meanwhile, seemingly oblivious of the other nightly activities, claws poked Aran's side and the scent of vixen brushed the marten's nose.
Tomas smiled wickedly in the quiet, still darkness of the barracks, and tucked a musty-smelling woolen army sock into Aran's blanket with him. The sock was stretched-out, heavy and clunky, hard angular shapes poking against the fabric.
"Ready?" The skinny vixen whispered to him. The shadowy shape of Thalia crouched right behind her companion, smelling just as excited and eager for blood.

 

[Aran Mateu Jan Vidal]

Aran Mateu had been laying awake, his mind churning with the thought of what was to come that night. Could he really attack another marten who had done nothing more than show up one of his friends in training? Was Thalia even his friend? Was Tomas? They'd been nice to him, but maybe they were setting him up to take the fall for the attack. Perhaps he should just pretend to be asleep when they came for him? But what if those others, Aginpole and that unhinged stoat came for him instead - or worse, Sterny? Aran Mateu had always heard it said that the Imperial Navy was full of madbeasts, but now he was wondering if the army might be even worse.

When he was poked in the side, he tensed, his paw clenching on his knife under his pillow, but then the scent of a femme reached him, and he relaxed as he recognized it as Tomas. Turning over, he could see them in the dark - and the heavy item they slipped up onto his bunk. His heart pounded in his ears, and he felt a dizziness that had nothing to do with his exhaustion from the long day. This was the moment of truth: either he joined them and kept their acquaintance, or he refused and ended up alone, with no backup against the rest of the unit.

Slowly Aran Mateu's paw closed around the sock, and he carefully climbed down from his bunk, making sure to keep the brick from clinking against the wooden frame. When he was on the ground, he nodded to the pair, even as he felt queasy. What if she dies? He'd never taken a life before, not even someone who deserved it like Calaisee. No, he reflected. No, Calaisee, awful and hateful as she was, didn't deserve to die. She wasn't his enemy in truth; she was a foolish, hateful young vixen who just didn't know any better. He had even less cause to strike at this marten... Except to make sure that I survive.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "I'm ready," he whispered to the pair, peering about the bunks. Was the room swimming for them as well? It felt like the bunks were spiraling up onto the ceiling.