Major Thread You are Cordially Invited...

[Talinn Ryalor]

(Set after the events of Fortuna Vitrea Est and The Changes Upon Us).​

Winter had fully arrived in Bully Harbor with the first snow, and, with it, a powerful snow storm that was still ongoing. The Duke of Westisle stared from the office of his fortress down at the port city below struggling to survive the onslaught of such-even with all the experience of countless winters, it never seemed to fully prepare it for another one. Talinn found himself sympathizing with the beasts who inhabited it for once, as he himself was in the middle of such a deluge. No, he was no longer struggling to survive the cold and wondering where his next meal might come from as he done in his youth in Westisle like many in Bouillabaisse, but his problems were not things more money or a blade could solve.

Mina.

The Kitsune seemed to curse him with that name, as it always reminded him of one of his greatest failures, and, just when he finally thought he had found some measure of peace from that following his return from death aboard the Hide, another reminder of his inadequacies had come up.

Mina Rose, my unexpected daughter.

He was in a strange, unsettled mood as he clasped his paws behind his back and continued to walk back and forth from the window to the desk and there and back again. The normally stoic and formal Duke could not calm himself as he reflected upon what to do. He had already failed most of his kits in so many ways, he knew, by being absent from their lives for so long, and the burden that their name carried would put them in danger for quite some time until the narrow path that he had spent his entire life creating to secure his family's legacy was cleared of all obstacles. Yet, even accounting for his failures, and the danger that House was still in, they had survived by closing ranks, sticking together against all the perils of the world despite their flaws. Dusk had done what she had thought best to save their last, and perhaps, only undamaged kit by keeping her secret and sending her so far away, but she had almost died twice now being out of the fold, once in Tookumberry, and once at the Opera House. Even if he took his wife's suggestion, if he could figure out that she was their daughter, other beasts still might, and there were still unsettled matters with Tanya and especially Jeshal given what Dusk had told him about-

*Knock*

“I told you I was not to be disturbed!” Talinn barked, unusually harshly and emotionally.

*Knock, knock*

“Whatever it is can wait!” He snapped, with a cold anger slowly beginning to rise in him far faster than it should.

*Knock, knock, knock, knock, kno-*

Marching over to the door, the Duke flung it open hard, so much so that it crashed into the stone wall with a rather loud bang. A rare flash of anger was visible on his face, and he was more than ready to give whoever had interrupted his contemplation a real tongue-lashing, if not an actual lashing, if it was not of the utmost urgency.

“This had better be good or I swear-” He began, but stopped as he realized it was not one of his aides he was addressing. It was the young Captain Matas, head of his personal household guard, with a rather worried look upon his face, as he bowed in the formal Fyadoran way before saluting him.

“Sir, I know how important it was that you were not to be disturbed, but…”

He held out a sealed envelope with a the golden skull and crossbones of the Imperium on it, and swallowed.

“...and sir, there is a full company of the Stoatorian Guard waiting in our courtyard. They insisted on being let in, as they say it is for your safety. Sent directly from the Empress herself they said.”

The younger fox’s lipped were pursed with worry.

“Sir...we have also just gotten a report that another full company has shown up to Lady Dusk’s office, who arrived at the same moment as they did. This was timed perfectly, sir.”

All the internal fire that Talinn had shown a moment before died instantly as he returned the salute to the younger todd, and it took all of his willpower to not have his paws shake as he held the letter. He knew this had been coming, but he had not expected it to be so forceful or to catch him so flatpawed. He had agents in Amarone to warn him of any such large movements...but they had not. And neither had Dusk’s, apparently. That could only mean one thing had happened to them. He swallowed, and carefully broke the seal on the letter, pulling out the fine parchment beneath, unable to conceal the wince when he instantly recognized the feminine writing.

“My dearest Duke,

You are cordially invited…protected by my own Guardsbeasts... after the unfortunate death of Minister Kilaris, I could not bear if anything were to happen to you or your beloved wife who is like a sister to me...I have taken the liberty of already having the road cleared should you accept...”

With each word Talinn seemed to blanch more and more, and by the time he had finished it, he looked rather ill. He just stood there, staring at the letter, for some time until Captain Matas coughed.

“Sir, I beg your pardon, but they were rather insistent that they receive an answer quickly...and, sir, until you do they have decided to go inspect the armory and the barracks where most of our beasts are relaxing. We only had two squad-.”

Talinn quickly held up a paw, and then walked over to his desk’s brazier and carefully burned the letter. Turning around, his expression ashen, he replied, his voice carefully neutral.

“It is quite all right, Matas. We are, of course, among friends, and I shall accept her Majesty’s invitation in the spirit that it was given. Have my aides pack the finest clothes immediately. I suspect she has provided a carriage for us too which Dusk and I will be sharing. And Captain...” He offered a pained smile to the younger todd “as you get older, you will find many things are better left unsaid, for once said, they cannot be unsaid, and I have found in the reports my researchers have sent me that voices can be heard from a far longer distance than anybeast might reasonably expect. Now, go, you are dismissed and we must not keep the Empress waiting.”

Matas stiffened for a moment, then gave him another parting salute.

“Of course sir, and, sir, thank you for the lesson. I shall take it to heart.”

Talinn returned the salute, then watched him depart with a wan smile before closing the door to his office to get more formally dressed. His pale blue eyes flicked over to Duty’s Burden and his dagger.

No need for those. The Empress is, of course, my dear friend…

@Callisto Bluemoon @Dusk Rainblade @Nicolas of Iron Pit @Neame Grosvenor @Orina Emberkin.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

By the time that Talinn finished packing, the carriage carrying Dusk had already borne her from her offices at the Ministry of Misanthropy. Given recent events, she'd been expecting a summons to Amarone for a while, and kept a bag packed - either for the trip, or to flee, depending on the nature of the summons. The bag was now loaded onto the back of the beast-drawn carriage, Dusk sat within, clutching her own invitation in her paws. The edges were slightly crumpled where it had been worried between sweating pawfingers. As soon as the door opened to admit Talinn, she smiled a bit tightly, her eyes going to the soldiers surrounding the cart. It was amazing how much a carriage and an escort could feel like a prison wagon and an arrest.

"Welcome, dear husband. At least this time we're making the trip together." It was a slightly unfair barb to throw at him; after all, they were making up with each other, and the plan had been to end Talinn's regular trips. It was just her nerves making her resort to her old habit of setting on edge everyone around her.

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

As Talinn stepped up and entered the carriage, he gave his wife a wry smile in response to her quote and ignored the implied barb-he knew this was likely part of a desperate attempt to convince herself that she had control in this situation, and he was inclined to let her keep that since she would need all the steadiness she could muster. She had never been good at direct confrontations-his wife was always much more subtle, preferring to lurk in the shadows and strike only when she had all her cards in order and there was no escape for her foe. That was, he suspected, why the Empress had decided to move so quickly and in such a decisive fashion, to throw a spotlight on her where there was little or no darkness for her to maneuver in-it threw Dusk far, far out of her element. He reached out a paw and squeezed hers to reassure her as the door closed behind them. There was no point in hiding their rekindled affection now.

Sitting down as the carriage began to move, protected by over two hundred Guardsbeasts, he replied.

“And I am glad to see you too, my dearest. It has been too long since we have taken a carriage ride together.”

He made sure to emphasize the word to let her know whose camp he was finally in this time, and the two rode in silence for a little while before he spoke again.

“I have given some serious thought as you requested to our gardening problem, you know, with that particular species of rose that we wish to replant. Perhaps you are correct that, at least until this cold weather blows over, it is better to keep it where it is, for moving it now could damage it. When spring finally arrives, we can see how it looks then, I suppose.” The words were filled with metaphors, but his wife would know exactly what he was talking about.

While he was doing so, his fingers trailed along the edge of the window, seemingly to idly tap it now and again as he looked out. It was the ancient, secretive sign language of their House, taught only to family members and no outsiders, so that they could communicate even under the most dire of conditions.

We knew this was going to happen to some degree, but I did not expect it to happen like this, not over just Afton alone. My agents in the Palace are likely either turned, dead, or both-I suspect it is the same for you as well. Someone must also have leaked information about our reconciliation as well. She was always smart even before my tutelage, and it seems she learned well. But even then...Dusk, do you have any idea of why she would be so forceful? There must be something I am missing and I do not like to go into battle without knowing as much as I can. We need to be very careful.

@Dusk Rainblade

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk allowed the tension to seep out of her shoulders as Talinn covertly signaled his agreement on the topic of Mina Rose. She'd been concerned that he would want to move swiftly to bring Mina Rose into the family; it seemed that they at least had some time to figure out a solution in that regard. She wondered if this invitation had spooked him and prompted a last-minute change of heart.

Carefully she signed and tapped her response, taking longer to do so. She'd been out of practice this past decade, during which she'd abrogated her duties as duchess and all but cut off contact with her husband. If the other ministers have been invited, there is less for us to fear. Most likely this is to plan a response to the Vulpinist attack and confirm Orina to replace Kilaris. If it is just us...

She hesitated. She knew that the Empress she knew and the Empress her husband knew were two very different beasts. With Talinn the Empress seemed to be doting, even fawning, constantly soothing his bruised ego with her cooing and flattery. With Dusk she was shrewd, calculating, and even ruthless, out-maneuvering the Minister of Misanthropy at every turn. Dusk sometimes wondered if the Empress put on a different mask with each of her ministers, presenting herself in the way most to her own advantage - and if so, what the true Empress even was like.

She concluded her thoughts. If it is just us, then she knows we have reconciled, which makes us a threat. We've been divided for a decade, unable to move against her. Two ministers in tight accord is a matter for concern. She will need to establish a new balance. She braced herself for her husband to naysay her interpretation. She knew how readily Talinn could excuse a vixen's scheming as well-intentioned, at least when he would otherwise have to recognize that he himself had been manipulated; after all, Dusk had used that selective blindness to her advantage through two decades of their marriage.

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn mused on his wife’s theory for some time, and thought about the Amélie that he had grown to know very intimately over the last twelve years. In some ways, Dusk was indeed correct-she would certainly be irritated that they had altered the original deal they had signed all those years ago without consulting her first, but he did not think that she had so little control of her emotions that this reaction would be done out of petty displeasure for that, especially since the core tenets were still intact and she had to know that the only way he would ever move against her was if she became legitimately mad. Nor would this heavy-pawed response be simply to reprimand Dusk for her failure to protect Kilaris. There had to be something more to it.

Glancing out the window, he spoke again, more so to conceal the tapping than any real thoughts.

“If it is snowing this hard here, it will be an equally tough winter back at home. I hope that Valin has stockpiled enough foodstuffs, the merchants will be ruthless this year and thus I would rather not to have import from the rest of the Imperium, or if things get bad enough, mainland Fyador. I know Anastasia has been working to improve our reputation in the latter, in her way, but things there shift so rapidly these days that whoever we negotiate with and pay this year could end up our foe the next. We would still be in the black, but between the infrastructure projects and the need to ramp up some of our coastal patrols and defenses since that Silvertongue told me to expect increased pirate activity in the upcoming year…”

I know that she is not going to be happy about the reconciliation that we have had-we did not consult her before deciding to change some of the terms of the deal. That was a mistake on our part, we should have been proactive, but I do not blame us, we were so focused on ourselves that we might not have looked at the optics. For Kilaris alone, she may have just summoned you and the Minister of Justice to have one of you fall on your swords for that fiasco, likely him since she knows you are connected to me...even with the reconciliation, I don’t think that alone would have provoked such a hard and fast response.

“...of course the Gauntlet protects our core towns and Peltarra, but the outlying settlements on along with Southisle could come under attack, if they were to approach from that direction. The additional forces should most likely be redeployed towards those areas, and new watchtowers constructed and supplied with signal flares so we are not caught off-guard."

With those two factors combined we would have been summoned and chewed out, but forcibly escorted with such coordination? No, there is something else we are not seeing, at least not yet. We have to think from her perspective. What could have possibly happened at the Opera and afterwards that could have led her to do this? Even if we worked together, as far as I know, Neame, Dursten, Rupert, and the most likely candidate to replace Afton, Orina, are neutral to us at best-far from a winning paw to do what Sken did to the Ullyanovs-we would still be outnumbered two to one-not counting the fact that I would not do so because our pact is sealed with something far more than ink or titles unless she went insane. So...what is it that we are missing? Did she catch some of the other Ministers plotting against her, and thinks we are part of it somehow?

“Another matter I wanted to discuss was you was the details of our Giftsgiving feast…”

@Dusk Rainblade

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk half paid attention to Talinn's mindless nattering about winter provisions and defense of the realm and other such unimportant details, focusing instead on the message he conveyed. Her mind pieced together some of the fragments, coming to a single conclusion: Amélie knew. She somehow knew about Dusk's deal with Orina, even though the deal had been struck in complete secrecy in the confines of Dusk's own home between herself, Orina, and Tanya. Had one of them blabbed? That seemed highly unlikely; both understood the treasonous implications of their actions and knew that they would not be spared if they turned on the others. Then again, Dusk and Orina hadn't been the most circumspect about their friendship over the years. Dusk decided that, absent any other evidence, the Empress had simply done the math and deduced that Dusk had put her paw on the scales to help her friend to politically ascend, especially since Misanthropy had been part of the event security when Kilaris was killed. It wasn't enough to get away with hanging Dusk, but it certainly afforded Amélie an excuse to humiliate her for her failures in front of her peers.

Dusk decided not to mention this to Talinn. The fewer beasts who knew of her involvement with the conspiracy, the better. Besides, her husband had a propensity to imagine himself as an honorable beast, despite a long history of decisions even more morally questionable than her own. Instead she focused on the more personal component of the upcoming meeting. The combined might of Misanthropy, Innovation, and the Duchy of Westisle is nothing to sneeze at. Even just a bid for secession would cripple the Imperium. The Empress has every reason to keep us on a tight leash. Out loud she mused, "Ah yes, now that we're hosting together again, I was hoping that we could invite my side of the family. I've been so wanting to introduce the kits to their cousins. If we send the invitation by gull now, do you think that Ameliya, Alexei, and Anastasia could make the trip from Westisle in time? I know Valin probably won't come, he and that darling wife of his will probably spend it with her family, but we might be able to persuade Amélie to give Mileya one holiday away from Amarone to spend with Daniil and her family."

She hurriedly added a few quick signs. If this goes badly, don't try to save me. Take the kits, including Mina Rose, and flee back to Westisle. I don't want anything happening to them.

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

“It would be good for the kits to see their cousins, and yes, I believe that if we sent the gulls out now, they would have time to arrive, and with a few days to recuperate from their journey. It is always a great blessing to have everyone together at Giftsgiving.” Talinn’s brow furrowed with thought as he said the words, in response to his wife’s reply.

No, I still think we are missing something, my dearest. She would have accounted for all of that alone, and not been so forceful in renegotiating the deal I struck twelve years ago. We would have been summoned normally, with less force, she normally prefers to be much more subtle. And she knows for a fact that we would not try to secede with the deal I struck. I just cannot fathom the reason for this show of force, and I hate walking into a battlefield without knowing every detail about it. But rest assured, my dearest, if anything were to happen, I would make sure our kits were safe.

Things were quiet in the cabin for quite a while as the Duke of Westisle wracked his brain, looking for any possible reason for the situation they were in, but it was ultimately futile. Had Dusk decided to be truthful to her husband, perhaps he could have found out some sort of mitigating strategy, some compromise to make an eventual resolution less harsh on them. Yet, like for him, change for Dusk, if it happened, would be painful and hard, and much like him, she preferred to avoid such things-but for how long could she manage to do so?

Abruptly, the carriage stopped, and Talinn glanced out the window and noted the stone marker to its side. Five miles to Amarone. He sighed, and tapped on glass.

The sacred boundary. They will check us and our luggage for any weapons. I brought nothing along with me, so I should be fine, but Dusk, surrender all that you have now. If they find you with an unauthorized weapon beyond this point, the penalty is death.

There were a few short raps on the door, and, sighing, Talinn stood up and opened it. A Lieutenant from the Stoatorian Guard, along with a few of his escorts, awaited him.

“Good afternoon, my Duke, if you could-”

Talinn raised up a paw.

“I am well aware of the security protocols, Lieutenant, you may check my luggage, and my person. You should find nothing in either, unless my servants made a mistake.”

The officer, a rat with a plumed red morion, nodded.

“If you would come this way sir…”

Talinn gave him an affirming grunt, and soon submitted to the security frisk without much fanfare or hassle, his luggage likewise being searched by two other Guardsbeasts. He had heard that there were many, many incidents with nobles and others who protested, and he did not wish to relive any of those today, especially with the hot water they were already in. He shivered slightly as the cold air and snow continued to fall around him, but, soon, they were done.

“Right, sir, if you could wait over there while we search the Duchess and her belongings…”

He gave him a brusque, short affirming dip of his head, and then stood by as the rat addressed Dusk.

“If you would, my Duchess…”

@Dusk Rainblade

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk had to give them credit: the soldiers were very thorough. Within ten minutes they had a pile laden with both of her boot knives, her bodice dagger, the sharpened pin she'd concealed in the sweep of her headfur, another hidden in the brush of her tail, and one small knife she'd concealed in a place she was sure they wouldn't look. Carefully feeling through the folds of her coat had yielded another three knives that had leather sheaths sewn into the lining.

As the soldiers made to hand her back her outer garments, Talinn coughed, clearing his throat. "Dusk," he spoke, his tone pointed, "are you certain that you're ready to go?"

Dusk gave her husband and the soldiers a smile sweet as poisoned honey, then reached under her arms and pulled out a pair of long, thin blades that were sewn in among the boning of her corset, presenting them to the soldiers. "Not bad," she commented, "though you have to learn to get creative. The most dangerous weapon is the one hidden in plain sight."

After she dressed herself, she was allowed back into the carriage to continue the journey to the palace. Dusk huffed as she remarked, "If I'd known I would be stripping in front of a group of young men today, I would have worn racier undergarments." It was part of an old series of jokes between her and her husband; she would make remarks about other todds, partially to rile him up by inferring that she could have any todd she wanted, but then to soothe him again by reminding him that he was the only todd for her. Eventually it had become a comfortable form of banter between them, part of the soft push and pull of their marriage. She'd missed it terribly over the last decade.

 

[Talinn Ryalor]

Talinn rolled his eyes and offered a very rare guffaw at his wife’s comments, feeling, for a moment, more relaxed as the Guard Lieutenant gave them a brusque nod, carefully collecting up all of Dusk’s assorted weapons. He was, indeed, also impressed by how many she managed to carry on her person, for he often went with just his two blades and his paws, but he knew his wife tended to have have an almost endless amount of backup plans. That had been the case when they had married, and and even more so during the chaos of the 1740s and 1750s, when she had added on to her arsenal to protect herself and her kits. One of these days he would have to get her, like him, an Auldarnian steel weapon, but the cost and time to make them were so prohibitive. It was why he had that strangely familiar crewbeast dive into the cold waters of Urk to retrieve his dagger-it was that precious.

But, maybe for Dusk, I can commission the few smiths who know how to make it, for is she not just as precious to me?

As she came back into the carriage, Talinn gestured for her to sit next to him instead of across from him. The Guard Lieutenant spoke once more before carefully closing the door, informing them that his wife’s weapons would be carefully stored and returned to her upon their leave from Amarone.

If we leave Amarone.

The carriage then continued to move as Talinn leaned into Dusk and vice versa. She was warm and soft against the biting cold of the outside, and he found himself able to breathe and think better despite the situation that they found themselves in. They would be able to handle it, as they handled every other obstacle before them in the last twenty years. They would survive.

Soon, however, a golden-orange glow began to permeate through the windows of the carriage, and Talinn raised his head and glanced out the window. They were now approaching Amarone itself-and it was truly a light in the cold and darkness of the storm. The entire palace-city was lit up, with hundreds, no, thousands of lamps and torches carefully maintained to not allow for a single speck of darkness-not just for the Empress’s vanity, but to send a strong message that there was nothing you could hide from her sight when you entered the city. The fine white cobblestone streets, too, were, immaculate despite the weather, with a series of large burning braziers melting the snow almost as soon as it touched the ground, with the water running in slight downhill slopes to the various storm drains underneath the complex. Those specks of snow which dared to hold on regardless were dealt with by the hundreds of servants pushing it with shovel and broom towards the braziers-even shoving it off the various roofs of the buildings. It was a testament to the Empress’s-and the Imperium’s-mastery of nature as well.

Every single thing in this place is to remind you that despite your pretensions, there is always a beast higher than you.

Soon, the carriage arrived at the gold-gilted, wrought-iron gates of the marble palace's courtyard which were quickly opened, and then stopped at the entrance. There was a rap on the door, and this time, a stoat captain was there when it was opened, in his full plate, cloak, and plumed morion helmet. An honor guard had been lined up for them, leading up the red carpet with gold fringes to the massive exterior dark metal doors marked with the skull and crossbones of the Imperium that led into the palace proper-one of the few original founding pieces of the complex to have survived hundreds of years of conflict, kept there to remind every beast of the bedrock upon which the Imperium was built-cold iron.

Bracing himself, the Duke of Westisle stepped out of the carriage, and offered his paw to Dusk, which she took, and the two of them slowly but surely made their way into the palace, the entryway groaning as the heavy metal gave forth to allow them entry. He held Dusk’s paw even tighter as the two walked towards whatever fate awaited them, making their way to the Imperial throne room along the impeccable carpet path before them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Like all roads, the one which the carpet led to eventually reached its end. Through the long hallways of the palace, adorned with statues, paintings, and a thousand curios from towns, villages, and nations too diverse to count, it led to another pair of doors. These, unlike the ones made of dark iron at the beginning of the palace which harkened back to harsh, brutal, and functional time of the Imperium’s founding, were made of solid gold, and embedded with various precious stones and jewels to reflect the current prosperity that Her Majesty’s rule had brought to the Imperium. Beyond those doors lay a massive, three-story white marble throne room, lined with large pillars, alcoves, and interior balconies draped with red-and-gold hangings, with the carpet continuing to the foot of a golden dais where it met its end. Up five steps of stairs a large, dark red tapestry was attached to the wall, with the large skull and crossbones of the Imperium in gold emblazoned upon it. And before it was the throne.

Unlike the rest of the room, and, indeed, the palace, the throne itself was an oddity. It was not made out of any precious material, nor was it covered with any kind of gilting, cover, or even a pillow for the ruler to sit on. Instead, it was a rather simple, ancient, and uncomfortable wooden chair with armrests made entirely out of driftwood, crafted not for comfort, but to conduct business from, and to remind the ruler to never relax. The throne of Milarkus the Malcontent, kept safe through all the trials and tribulations of the centuries, and rumored to be made out of the first pieces of wood that the ancient fox had found when stepping forth unto Vulpinsula as he ended his days as feared pirate and began his days as an emperor. And upon that throne rested another fox.

The Empress of the Imperium, Amélie, First of Her Name, sat regally upon the throne, flanked by six beasts of the Stoatorian Guard, wearing her sea-blue silk dress with gold fringes as she looked down upon an elderly rattess, dressed in fine apparel, but whose face bore the look of heartbreak and grief. As Talinn and Dusk quietly entered the room full of courtiers, the Empress did not even spare them a glance, her attention entirely focused upon the rodent prostrated before her.

“...And I implore you, your Majesty, for justice for my son...my little Afton...he...all he ever wanted to do was to serve the Imperium. To make it a better place, to protect our heritage. And...and those…monsters…”

The elderly rat sobbed for a moment, before her green eyes hardened before her. Reaching into a small case, she pulled out a sheathed sword, and, still kneeling, held it up in both paws to offer it to the Empress.

“There...was not anything left of him, your Majesty, but, we were able to recover his sword from the wreckage...he...he would have wanted you to have it. To protect the Imperium he loved so dearly with.”

The old ratmaid fell silent, and, the entire throne room, filled with courtiers, Guardsbeasts, and servants, was as quiet as a crypt. Then, the Empress rose from her chair, and moved down the dais with a quiet, confident grace, her guards beginning to follow her, but a small wave of the paw held them back. Reaching the old rat, she knelt down, and carefully picked up the blade, keeping it in its sheath. For a moment, she held it with both paws, before shifting it to her left paw, placing her right on the other femme’s shoulder, she spoke.

“Rise, Countess Alyssia.”

The old noble managed to rise without any assistance, with a strength that belied her years. She and the Empress locked eyes for a moment, and the Empress gave her a firm nod, before addressing the throne room in a clear, booming voice.

“The tragic death, no, murder of Minister Kilaris and so many of my other subjects in the very Opera House which is a symbol of our shared heritage is an act of barbaric wickedness which has struck at the very heart of the Imperium. It has revealed a deep corruption that even now is festering within our nation that must be cut out by a doctor skilled enough to remove every inch of it, so that we may begin to heal.”

She let the words hang in the air for some time, before she raised her voice once again.

“Minister of Justice Rupert Grayson, come forth! ”

A middle-aged, silver fox quickly stepped forward from among the various courtiers, then moved to kneel before the Empress, a soft smile on his face as he glanced up.

“Your Imperial Majesty…I am at your service. I am ready to do as you command to root out-”

“Minister Grayson, you have done quite enough!” The sharp, sudden rebuke echoed through the room, and the smile on Rupert’s face died instantly as he quickly lowered his head to stare at the floor. All eyes were on the two foxes now. The Empress continued, voice as cold as the winter outside as she continued.

“I have concluded that your continued service as Minister of Justice is not in the best interest of my people.”

Grayson looked shocked as he raised his yellow eyes to look up at the icy blue of the Empress’s.

“Your Majesty, if I may-”

“I am so sorry, but you may not.” She rebuked before she raised her voice to address the entire room.

“Jarl Bluemoon, Vice Minister of Commerce, step forward!”

When the wolverine managed to make his way out of the crowd and knelt before he, she continued.

“It is my will that you give the report that you presented to me to the entire court now.”

She gave the massive beast a nod, and gestured for him to stand.

@Callisto Bluemoon @Dusk Rainblade

 

[Callisto Bluemoon]

This was the moment. Years in the waiting, months in the planning and weeks in the preparing had all led to this audience. Callisto felt no fear, no anxiety for the performance: ambition needed boldness and he was ready to make his play.

The wolverine waited until the summons to make his presence known and, once permitted to rise, stood at his full height whilst mindful to show due deference to the vixen before him. Whatever his personal thoughts on her happened to be were of little consequence in this moment, but he knew better than to fall into the trap of presuming any manner of chumminess for his work.

Gaze locked ahead to address the Empress, a polite detached smile on his muzzle, Callisto briefly dipped his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Might I also extend my condolences on the loss of our dear Afton Kilaris: a terrible loss for the Empire.” It was a miracle he kept a straight face: there was little love lost for the once Minister of Niceties. He suspected the sentiment rather shared between them, but the pantomime continued regardless, such was the way of high society.

“Now as some of you may know, I have been taken ill this last year and spent much of my time recovering here in the splendid Amarone. Such time affords ample opportunity to exercise the brain in reading and listening – and, well, I have rather a head for numbers. I shall keep my report brief: in investigating erroneous reports I noticed multiple discrepancies in finances, along with confirmation from several beasts of rank within the Fogeys claiming a distinct lack of resources from a diminished budget – a budget which had been fully funded in good faith and seemed maintained in the Insanely Rich Area of Bully Harbour. Some further investigations and an audit have confirmed my concerns that such money was diverted into the personal accounts of the Minister of Justice and several of his noble companions. Said companions all themselves reside within the Insanely Rich Area and still benefit from the security afforded to them.”

Now to truly throw the todd before the cannons. “It is my belief, as such, that the lack of adequate enforcement and suitable security measures in the months leading up to the Opera incident resulted in creating an opportunity for this Vulpine Supremacist movement to establish a stronger pawhold in Bully Harbour and develop their schemed uninhibited. Were it not for Minister Grayson’s tampering with finances, we would likely not be standing here today to have this discussion."

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk watched the public humiliation of Minister Grayson with her heart in her throat, her paw clutching at the jade broach worn at her neck. If she were being honest, she'd never cared much for Grayson; she'd always found him a bit smug, prone to dismiss her contributions, an attitude she had surmised to be sexist in nature. That his legal career had begun alongside Judge Anithias Freedom, who had certainly embraced joining the 'old boys club' with a fervor once appointed, seemed to say everything about his perspective. From what Dusk had gathered, the gender disparities in the leadership of Justice were lopsided to the point of absurdity. A shame, Dusk mused. A good femme at his side might have steered him away from self-destruction.

This spectacle only increased Dusk's apprehension for her own well-being. She certainly had arguments she could make if the Empress called her to task for Misanthropy's failure to predict the attack; after all, since the restructure with the creation of the Ministry of Justice, matters of domestic security had largely been given to the newest ministry as their purview, with only proximate matters (border and national security for War; counter-espionage and transnational crime for Misanthropy) alloted to other ministries. True, M.A.U.L.'s analysts suspected that foreign gold, likely from either Alkamar or Fyador, was being funneled into the vulpine supremacist movements to fund the destabilization of Vulpinsulan society, but there was no hard evidence to that as of yet. The investigative trail following the destruction of a vulpinist bar in the Slups had run cold, and Dusk had been loathe to go to Grayson to turn over an investigation that could be used to advance his own reputation at her expense. She was glad she'd buried that file in the hidden safe in her office, where not even Ronan, with his curious eyes and loose tongue, could get at it.

Dusk glanced to her husband, raising her eyebrows only slightly. She didn't dare sign to him here, but she was sure he was equally concerned as to why they had been summoned. If this was solely to witness the dressing-down of Minister Grayson, well, as was oft said of meetings in the ministries, "This could have been a memo." The Empress, in Dusk's experience, was not the type to summon her ministers to Amarone without good reason. In fact, she seemed to have gone to great lengths to keep Dusk away from Amarone, making the current summons all the more unusual. Whatever was coming, Dusk was sure that more than a few beasts would leave Amarone quite unhappy about it.

 

[Empress Amélie I]

Minister Grayson’s face turned from fear to anger at Callisto as the wolverine delivered his report, ending up with a full on sneering scowl as the large mustelid finished his report. He could not seem to help himself as he stood up, turned, and pointed accusingly with his right paw.

“Your Majesty, every single word of this upstart from some no-name hamlet in the North is either a complete fabrication or a brazen attempt to mislead you and curry your favor! While some additional funding may have gone towards protecting some nobility in the Insanely Rich District, it was because they were acting as vital sources of information on the threat of the Supremacists! I took no money for my own personal accounts as well! The actual Minister of Commerce, instead of this pretentious arriveste, my dear friend and your faithful servant Auldington can confirm this, if he will step for-”

A sharp rapping from the throne ended the speech, as Grayson half-turned, paw still extended towards Callisto, to hear the Empress’s words.

“Ah, yes, you must not have heard, busy as you were carrying out your duties as you so staunchly claim, Minister Grayson,”the Empress began softly, a slight sadness seeming to overcome her, or, at least, that is what she wanted to portray, with her voice becoming ever harder and cooler as she continued “Minister Auldington passed yesterday evening at the Ministry of Commerce in a tragic accident. It seemed he wanted a bit of fresh air as his office was stuffy, and went to open his window. Unfortunately while returning to his desk, it appears that he slipped on his throw rug, then fell backwards as he attempted to steady himself on the windowsill. Being such an elderly beast, he lost his grip, then plummeted five stories onto the hard cobblestone streets below, where he snapped his neck and died instantly. It is strange that no one reported to this to you promptly, and that it took my own Guardsbeasts to inform me-but that, too, might be associated with your mismanagement of the resources that I have provided to you.”

The last sentence was delivered with such coldness that the storm raging outside might as well be a summer day on Tookumberry, and the implication of what had truly happened to the elderly Minister of Commerce known to have been a close ally, confidante, and enabler of the Minister of Justice was clear for any and all nobility in Amarone to understand. The Empress rarely imprisoned or executed traitors or those who had committed severe dereliction of duty, doing that only in the most extreme of cases, instead they they all simply appeared to have accidents involving windows, where curiously the Stoatorian Guard always seemed to be the first on scene to report. This was, in many ways, both practical to maintain her image as a more benevolent ruler as beheading them was so uncivilized these days, and as a means to maintain power, as the families of those killed this way could plausibly keep their honor and rank and seek redemption even if one of their relatives had disgraced them in private meetings with her later if they toed the line.

Grayson, upon hearing this, immediately turrned back towards the Empress, his fury at Callisto replaced more by worry for his own health. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the Empress raised her paw, and pulled out a scroll that she had sitting next to her on a small table. She held it up for him,and the others, to observe. It was still sealed with both the Minister of Commerce’s official seal, and Auldington’s personal purple seal. Breaking both once everyone had clearly seen that it was still intact, she read it, and then spoke.

“It seems the last act of my dearest Minister Auldington was to confirm what the Vice Minister has reported to me in writing. Would you like to read it yourself, Minister Grayson, or do you take my word for it?”

The Minister of Justice froze, then shook his head, and began to instead plead.

“I assure you, everything I did, I did for my country-”

“Excellent.” The Empress smiled as she replied, putting aside the report on the table as she stood. “Then you will not mind when I seize your family’s assets and present them as my gift to the people.”

The silver-furred fox’s face scrunched up into in inscrutable expression of indignation and rage, and he immediately blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“Your Majesty, you disgrace me!”

The room fell silent as a crypt at the outburst, as most beasts held their breath. The Empress’s smiled widened, like a true predatory animal that the University of Length’s anthropologists had speculated that they all once were in the distant past, as she grabbed Minister Kilaris’s sword and stepped down the dais towards him. Stopping right in front of him, she raised out a paw, and offered it to him, as she gazed past him, looking directly towards Dusk and Talinn, before returning her gaze to him.

“If your shame is so unbearable...perhaps you wish to take a page out of the culture of our dearest Duke and Duchess of Westisle to resolve that? I offer you Afton’s sword to carry out that most fascinating custom. I am sure we can find you a second if you wish for one in completing that as well.”

Grayson did not even dare to look up at the Empress as he came back to his senses, likely helped by the fact that every single archer and crossbowbeast hidden behind the various hangings and tapestries on the second and third floors stepped forward in unison, their weapons ready to pincushion him with precise accuracy if he did anything remotely threatening. Instead, he simply bowed, declining the Empress's offer, stepped back, and knelt.

“I thought so.” The Empress replied cooly. “You are relieved of your position, Baron Grayson. You will return to your estate, under the care of my Guardsbeasts, until I determine the proper way to hold you to account for your failure.”

“Yes, your highness…” The silver-furred fox, utterly crushed, replied, voice barely a whisper, as a squad of Stoatorian Guardbeasts stepped forward surrounded him, and then proceeded to lead him away, with a pleased Countess Alyssia Kilaris following in their wake. It seemed that the mother of the late Minister of Niceties wished to see every moment of humiliation visited upon the beast she believed responsible for her son’s death and had found an adroitness belying her age to do so.

Returning to her chair and carefully setting Kilaris’s sword down, she then turned back to the Vice Minister of Commerce.

“In recognition of your efforts, Vice Minister Bluemoon, I offer you the position of being my new Minister of Commerce. If you choose to accept, I also have a first task for you-the execution of Minister Auldington’s will to be distributed to his wife, kits, and grandkits, as it seems quite complex. It is the least we can do for him considering his last act before his tragic accident, despite his age, he served the Imperium faithfully in the end.”

That would be the official story about the former Minister of Commerce’s involvement in this affair and his “accidental” death in the history books. It would certainly not be the fringe conspiracy theory some would later subscribe to that the previous Minister of Commerce was given the choice between the total destruction of his entire family and their legacy or turning on his fellow Minister and partner in crime to give the Empress legitimacy in dismissing him in exchange for being allowed to die in such a manner as to plausibly maintain his honor, and where he would be allowed to give his wealth less his ill-gotten gains to his family-once Callisto figured out how to untangle the legitimate income from the illegitimate ones.

@Dusk Rainblade @Callisto Bluemoon

 

[Callisto Bluemoon]

There was nothing further Callisto needed to do save let the silver fox undo himself and everything he had worked for. Through the entirety of his tirades and the Empress’ cool handling of the matter he had remained immobile, expression crafted into one of detached serenity as he waited patiently for the anticipated outcome. Years had led to this moment; he could wait a minute more. The only break to such composure came, ever so subtly, when Grayson was led away. The wolverine indulged a split second of eye contact with the unfortunate todd, a predatory gleam matching the twitch of his muzzle. It was a silent promise: this upstart from some no-name hamlet in the North was going to systematically disassemble what was left of his life for the insult.

Empress Amélie provided the exact means for which to do so, and confirmation of his success. At last. Auldington had been easy enough to work with in the years past: untangling his assets would be well worth the ascension to office. Still, his agile mind was not basking idly in the success: he was equally intrigued as to the summons of other Ministers for this dressing-down. He supposed all would be revealed in time, but he was not so vain as to presume they were simply here to witness his promotion.

Once more schooling his expression to something more appropriate for the courts, the wolverine offered the vixen a deep bow. “It would be an honour, Empress. I look forward to continuing to serve yourself and the Imperium to the best of my abilities.”