FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

One of the strengths, they say, that elves have is our heightened senses. It is very difficult, so they say further, to catch an elf unawares. Those who "say" have probably never seen an elf in the throes of moody self-pity.

Which is how I was caught totally off-guard when I heard a gentle throat-clearing near my elbow. I was both shocked and delighted to find that it was Meadow; it had not occurred to me that she might want to visit.

I had just opened my arms for an embrace when I caught myself short, and looked over to the seat by the fireplace. It had been occupied, I could have sworn, just a minute or two before by Cormac. I swiveled my head around frantically to locate him, since after all it's very hard to hide an elk of that size in a small room. The soft latching of the door told me that he had discreetly chosen to take a walk, leaving me in good paws.

Which I was, quite literally. It was a good few minutes before the embrace was broken, and at that by Meadow, reluctantly. She pulled out a pawkerchief and dabbed at my eyes.

"Well, Westersloe, you did answer one question I had. Thank you." As I started to make some kinds of semi-intelligible noises of enquiry, she held up a paw.

"I know what your question is. The Lieutenant, right?"

I babbled out something or other in the affirmative.

"Well, he's doing all right, now. Do you want to hear the story, though?"

I nodded, which caused her to look at the top of my head with a slightly puzzled air. I reached up and rubbed my rack and scalp.

"The fur on my scalp will grow back, they say, in a little bit. They're going to get a saw to my longer antler to even it out."

She nodded, and half-sat, half-snuggled on the bed next to me, and relayed her story.

Her mistress had not been at the Albric Tor Tattoo. She had taken her vow literally, and seeing Lieutenant Chitterleigh, even at a distance and in the company of thousands of other furs, would have been in her mind breaking the literal word of what she promised. So that morning, Meadow was helping her finish up her packing for the winter Court at Persoc Tor.

As far away from the Parade Ground as her home was, even still the noise of the tumult carried, and it was clear to both of them that something had gone badly wrong at the Tattoo. But what?

Meadow had gone out into the street to see what news there was to be had, but there was none either there, or at the market, which was deserted, with stalls abandoned in haste.

She had had to squeeze her way into the periphery of the Parade Ground to find out the news: a fur had tried to kill the Crown Prince and the Marshal! There was, of course, mass confusion as to the details, and furs even a few feet apart were relating completely contradictory stories of whether there were any killed or wounded.

This news was taken home, and Miss Eichelgruber decided that the place for both of them was at the local shrine to Fuma, since the principal shrine was likely to be jammed. At that, the local side-street shrine to Fuma was packed with furs lighting candles and asking for intervention and protection. Miss Eichelgruber and Meadow joined the throng, lit their own candles, and chanted with the rest.

What had really happened only started to dawn when the Priestess of Fuma asked the congregation to pray for the protection of the Royal Family, and "the lives of the soldiers of the Imperial Household who sacrificed themselves in the course of their duty."

They had prayed after that, fervently, but at the first decent interval, they slipped out of the shrine and headed back to the Parade Ground. Even hours later, it was still jammed with soldiers and citizens milling about in confusion, fear and anxiety. That the Royal Standard was still flying over the Castle to the top of the staff gave few any comfort.

Mistress and servant alike managed to navigate the crowd until they found Lieutenant Rivers, who was commanding a group of soldiers guarding one of the entrances to the Castle. It was Miss Eichelgruber that got his attention.

"Zeno, have you seen Private Winterbough? Meadow has been looking for him."

The otter's jaw worked up and down a few times, but he couldn't answer. It was one of the privates who spoke up.

"Please, mum, they've been an' taken away Westy an' Mr. Chitterleigh. They was awful sick, they was."

Meadow had to hold Miss Chitterleigh's paws in hers to steady her, or it might well have been the reverse, it was hard to say. It took a lot of effort for my good friend to finally speak.

"Lieutenant Rivers? Anyone? Where have they taken Lieutenant Chitterleigh and Private Winterbough?"

The privates pointed as one fur toward the Royal Castle, but it was clear from the serried ranks of cavalry furs with drawn swords, seated upon their battle-ants, and the infantry soldiers wielding drawn swords, that entrance to the Royal Castle would not be had by conventional means.

The two wandered around in increasing desperation, with the crowd slowly starting to recognize them. There were numerous whispers from group to group, and it was probable that in a few minutes, one version or another of their story, mostly accurate, was known to those on the Parade Ground.

Relief came in the somewhat unlikely guise of Mrs. Truemane, who wielded her cane quite effectively in clearing a path. She came upon them both, and seeing the looks on their faces, immediately grabbed Miss Chitterleigh by the elbow, and began to march toward the Castle, brooking no opposition from civilian or soldier alike.

She finally came muzzle-to-muzzle, in a sense, with Colonel Briarrose. Not that the tall, champagne-furred skunk wearing an eyepatch, a true-silver arm and paw, and a set of spectacular side-whiskers was hard to pick out in a crowd. The Colonel reined in his ant, and looked down.

"Edelweiss, this is no pwace for a wady. Weturn to your hearth, pwease."

For his pains, he got a cane waved in his face.

"Fiddlesticks, Briarrose, let us through at once, d'ye hear? Don't you see who I have with me?"

The Colonel peered down, saw whom Mrs. Truemane had with her, and even for a fur that had seen as many battles as he had, he flinched.

"But this is all highwy iwweguwar, Edelweiss. I have stwict instwuctions to let no fur pass this entwance."

The cane moved from his face to his silver-steel chestplate, making musical sounds as the rubber tip hit it.

"Briarrose, I am going through, and what's more, I'm bringing these two young ladies with me. Now, move your ant, sir!"

The Colonel began to realize, to his great discomfort, that there was a large, growing and silent crowd watching him and listening to the conversation. Even in its silence, it was fairly clear upon whose side it was on.

"Edelweiss, pwease. Wisten to weason. My orders come fwom His Majesty himself. Would you have me disobey my sovweign?"

Mrs. Truemane began to shout, and for an old mare, she had quite a bit of volume.

"Briarrose! You have a choice. You can be a soldier, obeying your orders, or you can show a little bit of decency and chivalry to two grieving and worried ladies. What'll it be?"

The awfulness of the choice was certainly clear to the Colonel, as he slumped in his saddle and looked miserable. An entire life-time spent building up a reputation with the femmefurs of hundreds of realms, small and large alike, was at stake. Finally, with a sigh, he dismounted and handed his ant to a trooper.

"Very well, Edelweiss. I shall bwing you and your two fwiends - AND ONLY YOU AND YOUR TWO FWIENDS - beyond the entwance. But you must stay with me upon pain of incarcewation in pwison!"

His reward was to be led by one of his ears up the steps of the Royal Castle, to his howls of anguish.

"Weawwy, Edelweiss. This is highwy undignified."

"Rubbish. Now, where is His Majesty?"

The quartet of Colonel Briarrose, Mrs. Truemane, Miss Eichelgruber and Meadow trooped through the halls of the Royal Castle. The skunk received a number of puzzled salutes from the soldiers on guard, which were difficult to return when you are being led by an angry old mare with a hold on your ear.

Eventually, they reached the Statecraft Chamber, whose thick wooden doors were guarded not merely by troops, but by what seemed like an entire platoon of retainers and courtiers.

With some difficulty, and a number of explanations either whispered (from Colonel Briarrose) or shouted (from Mrs. Truemane), the group approached the Chamber. The door opened, and a rather peeved minister of the Crown looked out.

"Who is it that disturbs our conference?"

He was informed that it was: a senior member of His Majesty's armed forces, a fur with a petition for His Majesty the King which was of the highest moment, a servant, and an old mare who knew very well what the Minister was like when he was a mere kitten and if he didn't want knowledge about certain incidents involving apple-thefts to be made public at great length...

The minister moved aside, assisted by the point of a cane.

The Statecraft Chamber was what one would expect it to be: it was wide enough to contain two long, parallel marble tables, at which sat numerous ministers and generals. It was tall enough that one had to crane one's neck in order to see the ceiling decorated in gold and lapis lazuli. It was important enough that it contained numerous maps, large and small. And finally, as it was the seat of power of the Empire, it contained, literally, a seat of power, a raised chair in which King Adler was seated, commanding the two ranks of the realm's elite.

There was a disturbed murmuring among the generals and ministers seated, and among their aides and flunkies lined against the wall. This ceased when the King raised his paw.

"Who is it that wishes to approach me?"

With some gentle encouragement, Miss Eichelgruber walked slowly between the two marble tables, head bowed and paws clenched.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Eudora Eichelgruber, may it please Your Majesty."

One of the ministers, Lord Twelveoaks, who had been reading some papers, looked up with a start and a chitter. Embarrassed, he sat back.

The elderly skunk leaned slightly forward. "Why are you here, Miss Eichelgruber?"

The squirrel femme swallowed hard, trembled, and said in a barely audible voice that she had a petition for the King.

"It is indeed the right of all of my subjects to petition me, Miss Eichelgruber, but you must be aware, there are grave matters we are discussing. Surely, there is another time..."

"Please, Your Majesty, this is about Jasper Chitterleigh."

A startled murmur of surprise from those in the Chamber, with the notable exception of Lord Twelveoaks.

"And how, Miss Eichelgruber, does this pertain to Lieutenant Chitterleigh? He is indisposed, you know. He is very, very ill. Earlier today, he thwarted a grave attempt to murder both my brother and my son and heir. We are discussing this matter presently."

The mistress sank to her knees in front of the King.

"Please, Your Majesty, I love Lieutenant Chitterleigh, but I have been made to promise that I cannot meet, see, speak or write to him."

The King looked startled. "What? But who made you promise this?"

"Lieutenant Chitterleigh's father, may it please your Majesty."

Lord Twelveoaks tugged at his collar and frowned. It got quite warm in the Statecraft Chamber for him.

"Surely, you have evidence of this...?

From her bosom, Miss Eichelgruber produced her copy of the written oath she had made. It was the Crown Prince himself who took it from her paw, read it, and then passed it on to his father, who read it upon his throne.

"Please, Your Majesty, I have another witness, my servant."

"And where is she?"

Meadow stepped forward, and then sank to her knees next to her mistress.

"And what do you know of this?"

"May it please Your Majesty, I have seen the oath that you have in your paw. I am servant to Miss Eichelgruber. I was there when she signed it at the order of Lieutenant Chitterleigh's father."

More murmuring in the Chamber, stilled by a raised royal paw.

"And have you, Miss Eichelgruber, obeyed your promise?"

"May it please Your Majesty, I have. I have neither met, nor seen, nor spoken, nor written to Lieutenant Chitterleigh, as I swore."

There was an indignant outburst from Lord Twelveoaks. "Which isn't to say she hasn't evaded her oath. Her servant has been seen in the company of Lieutenant Chitterleigh's servant. Ask this wench if she has given or received messages from her mistress. Go ahead, ask her!"

The King addressed Meadow. "Have you, servant?"

"May it please Your Majesty. I solemnly swear that I have not spoken to Lieutenant Chitterleigh, nor handed him a message, nor have I left him a message. I further solemnly swear that the servant of Lieutenant Chitterleigh has not done the same to my mistress."

"And who is the servant of Lieutenant Chitterleigh? Where is he?"

The Marshal turned in his chair, and harrumphed. "Brother, the servant of Lieutenant Chitterleigh is Private Winterbough. I assigned him there myself."

A serjeant-at-arms had to call out for order before the King could speak again.

"And did you and Private Winterbough arrange this with your respective mistress and master?"

"No, may it please Your Majesty. We did it ourselves."

"Why?"

"Because neither of us felt it was just that two furs who should be together, couldn't."

The furs in the Chamber looked at each other, and spoke behind their paws in whispers. The King turned back to the squirrel femme.

"Then what is it, your petition?"

"Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you. Can you help me to be released from my promise, ere the fur I truly love dies?"

The King sat back on his throne, and folded his paws in his lap. For a time, he sat silently, and then turned to Lord Twelveoaks.

"Well? What have you to say on this matter?"

"That, with the deepest respect to Your Majesty, that this is not a matter of State, but a private matter, and that I, as the father of Jasper Chitterleigh, should wish that he not see a particular femmefur, that is my unquestioned right."

The King looked from the angry squirrel mel, to the kneeling squirrel and mouse in front of him, and back again. At length, he rubbed his chin.

"Gawain? I think you, of all in this room have a right to speak on the matter, considering the furs involved. What think you on this matter?"

The Crown Prince stood, his paws behind his back, swishing his tail. For a time, he sought inspiration in the patterns of the day sky on the ceiling. At length, he turned back to his literal and figurative Sire.

"I think, Father, that Lord Tweleveoaks has a point. We can only intervene in matters involving him where the Crown's interests are direct..."

A disappointed murmur shot through the audience, stilled by the King's upraised paw.

"Continue, Gawain."

"As I say, Father. You cannot intervene in purely private matters, such as the petition of Miss Eichelgruber, worthy as it may be. You can only intervene in matters of petition where the interests of the Crown are direct. For example, let us suppose some property of the Crown was damaged by mischance. A building, for example. Would it not be your right, Father, to ensure that the Crown's interests were fulfilled, down to the last copper?"

At this, the Crown Prince turned a gaze upon Lord Twelveoaks, and arced one eyebrow, slowly. It became very hot in the Chamber, to that squirrel mel's feeling.

The King tapped the claws of one paw on the arm of his throne. "The question is well put, Gawain. What say you to that proposition, Minister? Do you not think it so that you would need to make the Crown whole?"

Chitterleigh's father could only answer with a strangled affirmative.

"I am very glad, Minister, that you acknowledge my rights in the matter. I often find these discussions of hypotheticals quite refreshing. Speaking of refreshment, do have some water, you look very uncomfortable."

"I...do not require water, may it please Your Majesty."

"Ah. Is there anything else of interest you wish to say, Minister?"

It might have been gritted teeth, or it might have been a forced smile. Something was said, in a barely audible voice, accompanied by clenched paws.

"I regret, Minister. I am a very old skunk. I did not hear that. Do I mean to understand that you release this young lady from her vow regarding your son?"

In a voice that was perhaps a shade too loud, the Minister said simply "Yes!"

"Ah. Splendid, splendid. Did the Recorder make a note of that in the proceedings?"

"I did, Your Majesty. On the question of releasing Eudora Eichelgruber from certain oaths and promises made with respect to Lieutenant Sir Jasper Chitterleigh, Minister My Lord Twelveoaks stated in the affirmative, before the Privy Council assembled, that he would do so."

"Always a good thing to have, records. Thank you."

The King placed a pair of spectacles on his nose. "Miss Eichelgruber?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"You may go. I am sure one of the courtiers would be happy to point out to you where Lieutenant Chitterleigh is currently being treated."

"Fuma bless you, Your Majesty."

"And you, my dear. Now, Roland, I think you wanted to talk about the supplies in the Army storehouses, did you not?"