Corwin Hall, Chapter 17 up. Adult content!

A story within a story? Tell me the truth, have you been reading Shakespear? But seriously, great chapter, and nice ending! Don't be like me and take forever with the next update! (Sloth is my deadly sin.) I want to know what happens in the story!
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Among men, Lu Bu. Among horses, Red Hare.

A dead Zhuge scares away a living Zhongda.

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

Age : 21 Joined : 06 Jun 2008 Posts : 8

Very interesting developments, Ger. And what a place to leave off!

You write amazingly. Now hurry the fuck up. =D
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Fuck.
ToastGhost wins.
Legls FTT family
Husband: Hunter630
Brouter: Seanzee
Daddy: Hexxus
Adoptive mother who beats me on a daily basis: Amaya
Brother, from another Sal Karian Mother: Gir

Still loving it, can't wait for more ^.^
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---
We don't need your hypocrisy
Execute real democracy
Post-industrial society
The unthinking majority
Anti-depressants
Controlling tools of your system
Making life more tolerable, Making life more tolerable
-The Unthinking Majority by Serj Tankian
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Proud member of the BLUE ARMY
FInish the fight against the Reds!

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

I just realized something. Not only is it a story within a story, but it's a story being told by Geraden inside a story being told by Geraden. That's way more meta than Shakespeare ever was XD

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

OK, warning is necessary here. This part might be unpleasant for some people. If the description of Sandleford Warren was too disturbing for you, I'm not sure what to say. There's no specific part for you to skip. These next few chapters are not about nice people, or nice situations.

Oh, yeah, adult content in this chapter, too.

Corwin Hall, Chapter 8

The young, lean Wolf marched down the stone corridor, gas lamps on the wall glinting in his half-lidded eyes. His black uniform fit his frame perfectly, and the red mantle on his shoulders made him look broader than he was. It was not a noble, flowing cape, but pure leather, and it gripped his back like a talon. He passed a young officer, who stopped, stood at attention, and yelled “Chaire Agathos!”

“Chaire,” the Wolf growled back, not looking at the junior officer and continuing to stalk down the passage, boots clicking with every step. He couldn’t spare the time to be social with the pissant bureaucrats stationed at this God-forsaken stronghold. He despised the entire Florida peninsula, and kept a running tally of the days until the west coast would be secure enough to move the seat of government.

Ahead of him, the corridor opened into a large hall with yellow banners bearing the blood-stained fang of the UPN. He was relieved to see Chrysos, his Chief of Secret Police. He wasn’t a friend, but at least he was a member of the central government. The old, grey Wolf matched Arvetis’s stride perfectly as he passed through the room.

“Chaire Agathos,” Chrysos rumbled in a low murmur.

“Chaire. What did you want to see me about?”

“Arvetis…” This made the fur on Arvetis’s hackles rise, but the old mongrel had earned the right to call him by his given name. Chrysos had been the Chief of Police since Arvetis was a weanling, and had been a useful tool to Aeschros, the previous Chancellor. That is, according to rumor, until Chrysos was instrumental in Aeschros’s death. Nobody questioned the ancient cur’s strength, despite his frail form. “Arvetis, the news from the western offensive is grim.”

“Well? Explain.” Arvetis kept the frustration out of his voice.

“I will let General Phylax do that, I think.” They had come to a small flight of stone steps built into the side of the hall. Two guards – obviously enlisted; one was a fox and the other was a stoat – stood at attention on either side.

“You mean you don’t want to be the one to give me bad news.”

“It is, fortunately, not part of my job description.”

Arvetis grunted, offering neither assent nor reproof, and stepped down the stairs past the guards. Through a heavy-set door was a small war room, with maps and bulky radio equipment lining the walls. In the center, next to a wide table set with strategic markers, stood the hulking form of General Phylax.

“Chaire Agath–“

“Shut up.” Arvetis sneered. “Report what you have to.” The large Wolf was unfazed; Arvetis’s ire never seemed to bother him.

“The assault on Westriver Warrens has failed, Sir Agathos.” Phylax’s eyes remained fixed just over Arvetis’s left shoulder.

“How? They’re peasants defending a few holes in the ground.”

“The special unit was not trained in subterranean combat, as I explained when you redirected it there.”

Arvetis’s lip rose, but he knew he couldn’t contest that. Not with Chrysos standing behind him. “Well, take care of it. You’ve got an army, haven’t you?”

“That isn’t all, sir. Reports indicate that the Prey of Nigosoka settlement are arming themselves, with the aid of the Sandleford rebel government. They may be mounting an insurgence.”

“And what is the governor doing about it? Melenos is his name, correct?” Arvetis examined the sharpened nails on his paw.

“Yes, sir. Nothing, sir. He seems to believe it would be disruptive to the social order to act on rumors delivered by paid informants.”

“Kill him. Replace him with one of Chrysos’s men, with instructions not to bother investigating whether the uprising is real or not. Act as if it were. Curfews, summary executions, and so on.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What of the northern advance?”

“Progressing, sir, but slowly. New England is seventy percent prey species.” Phylax gestured at the map on the center table, cluttered with markers of different colors. Arvetis did not comprehend them, and had no wish to.

“And Phuto City?”

“Empty, sir. Most of it is burned to the ground, and there has been no activity sighted at Warkyn Warren. Landmines prevent detailed inspection.”

“You are certain? I don’t like having a large Rabbit settlement so near our stronghold.”

“If there’s anyone alive there, sir, they’re not doing anything.

Arvetis nodded, closing his eyes and thinking for a long moment. “Redeploy the northern advance. I don’t care about it; we need to eliminate the West Coast Resistance so we can move our capital to the Pacific. Leave enough troops that we won’t lose any territory, and reroute the rest to Westriver. Crush the warrens with numbers.”

“Sir, the northern troops aren’t trained for warren fighting either.”

“There are fifty thousand of them! Do it!” Arvetis snarled, livid.

“Yes, sir.” Phylax saluted. “That is all I have to report, sir.”

“Thank God.” Arvetis turned and started up the stairs, but stopped partway up and looked over his shoulder at Phylax. “There is no refuge for the weak,” he said lowly.

“No, sir.”

“That includes our own.”

“Of course, sir. Strength shall prevail.”

Arvetis turned again and left the room, and Chrysos shadowed him.

“He doesn’t scare easily,” Chrysos said as they re-entered the yellow-bannered hallway.

“I don’t care, as long as he brings me news of a victory in California. I hate Florida.” Arvetis was frustrated. It was embarrassing on an international scale that North America, his own continent, was the most resistant to UPN rule. Europe had offered almost no military resistance, except for Great Britain, which could sit off the coast and rot for all Arvetis cared. Asia was quickly coming along. They won’t be so eager to join, though, if Arvetis couldn’t maintain control over his own home ground.

“Sir, there is another item of interest,” Chrysos interrupted Arvetis’s rumination. “The excavation team constructing the new munitions testing range in the western wing of the stronghold… they have uncovered something.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that this place has been a Predatory keep for centuries. They’ve unearthed the remains of what appears to be an ancient library. Scrolls, mostly, and some books. My men are just beginning to go through them to see if their contents are fit for public consumption, but they all appear to be historical Predatory accounts, including descriptions of previous attempts to subjugate the Prey species.”

“Interesting, I suppose.” Arvetis stalked off back into the narrow corridor. “Keep me updated. I’m going to my quarters for some exercise.”

“Chaire Agathos.” Was there a sardonic hint to the Chief of Police’s voice? Arvetis did not respond.

***

The Rabbit clung to the stone wall with the still grace of a seasoned climber. Greenish-grey paint obscured the normally creamy tone of his fur where his camouflage vest and pants did not cover him. In the swampy night, nobody could possibly have seen him from the ground unless they shone a spotlight directly on him.

It was really too easy, thought Geraden Warkyn as he grasped the edge of the windowsill, pulling himself up just enough to see if anyone was inside the darkened room. UPN security was focused almost entirely on information. Physical security was limited to making sure the occasional Prey insurgences died before they could advance beyond their hometowns. As of yet, the Prey Resistance had given the Predators no reason to be more on guard; they kept their guerilla resources well-hidden and untapped. That would change soon.

Geraden drew a long blade from his waist, thin and double-edged, and slipped it under the window. With a little effort, the spring steel leveraged the window open, and he slipped through. This was a practice run, really. The political realities were not ideal for assassinating Agathos now, but the Resistance needed to know that, when they were, Geraden would be able to deliver on a few hours’ notice.

Geraden quickly surveyed the empty quarters, his vision already dark-adjusted. They were luxurious, by military standards. A four-post bed, several wardrobes, a portrait –

“A portrait of himself?” Geraden said aloud, shaking his head. It hung above the bed, showing Arvetis in uniform, riding a white stallion and pointing towards the horizon. Geraden carefully closed and re-latched the window, and headed for a large writing desk in the corner.

The primary mission – to secure entrance to Arvetis Agathos’s quarters in an undetectable, repeatable way – had been accomplished, but Geraden was more interested in the secondary mission at this point. He was to discover whatever personal information he could about Agathos, in case an assassination never became politically feasible. Blackmail and extortion were always possibilities.

Geraden flipped through the stack of papers on the desk. It was too dark to read them, but he didn’t dare risk lighting the gas lamps that lined the room. He took out a small flashlight and was about to turn it on when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside the quarters. He froze, twitching one floppy ear in concentration. The footsteps seemed to turn a corner, becoming suddenly louder, then approached, and finally stopped at the door.

Geraden spun, adrenaline flowing though his body. He ran silently to the window and pulled up on it. Latched! Cursing voicelessly, he heard a key in the door. He turned, saw the large bed, and ran for it. The door opened just as he slid under the bed, and by the time Arvetis turned on the first lamp, Geraden was nowhere to be seen.

Arvetis lit all of the lamps, mentally cursing the difficulties of running electricity through an ancient fortress in the middle of a swamp. He took off his mantle, hung it on a hook on the wall, and began unbuttoning his uniform. He was breathing heavily, trying to control the frustration and panic building in his chest. He had expected to be in Los Angeles a month ago, and helping the Vulpine Brotherhood in their bid for power in Japan. His international reputation was taking a serious hit from the American unrest, and if he couldn’t quell it soon, the UPN might begin to fracture. He shook his head and stretched. Time for some stress relief.

He removed his shirt, took a deep breath, and dropped his pants. He looked down at his thick diaper and smiled a little. It had been hidden by the odd bulges in the riding pants that were part of the standard UPN officer’s uniform. The extra room in the crotch and rear had been his own addition to the design. The cape fell off the hook, and he bent low to pick it up.

As he bent over, he thought he heard a noise from behind the bed. He slowly replaced the mantle, then walked over to the other side of the room, crinkling loudly. Nothing. It must have been one of the lanterns popping.

Diapers? Geraden was incredulous. He’d seen everything while Arvetis was bent over. Could the great Arvetis Agathos, High Chancellor of the United Predatory Nations, be incontinent? He lay perfectly still, berating himself for the small gasp he had given, as Arvetis investigated the room.

A creak and two bulges in the bottom of the bed above his chest told him that Arvetis was kneeling there now, apparently satisfied with his inspection. After a moment, a sharp and acrid smell filled Geraden’s nostrils. Arvetis was using his diaper. He considered trying to shift out from directly under the Wolf, but decided the risk of noise was too high.

The crinkle of Arvetis’s diaper continued, even though he didn’t seem to be moving. Geraden realized he must be rubbing it. Not incontinent then, he thought, but a fetishist. Oh, this was too good. The two bulges in the bed turned into a long, shallow form; Arvetis was lying down. The bed began to squeak rhythmically, and Arvetis gave a little whimper. Geraden turned his head and closed his eyes, disgusted. The Wolf was humping the bed just inches above him.

Geraden realized he was still holding the long blade, and considered how easy it would be to thrust it upwards through the mattress. He thought about the scandal that would erupt when Arvetis was discovered, transfixed to his bed and wearing a piss-stained diaper. What would it accomplish, though? Arvetis’s younger brother was next in line for the chancellorship, and by all accounts he was just as ruthless. Less of a military idiot, too. The assassination could not happen now.

Arvetis thrust into the mattress harder now, reaching a paw around to fondle the warm rear of his diaper. His thoughts were a confused mess, but pleasurable. He called himself weak and helpless, and loved it. He squeezed himself through the soaked padding, thighs shivering. He gave two more jerking thrusts, and began to spurt into the front of the thick diaper, letting a muffled howl out into his pillow. He slowly stopped humping, panting hard and turning his head to the side. He closed his eyes and reveled in the warm afterglow. He pissed more as his erection subsided, barely even noticing.

After a few long minutes, Arvetis came back to his senses and sat up on the bed. He stood up and wandered around the room, looking for his bathrobe in a light daze. He found it balled up under his desk, fished it out, and walked towards the door to his private bathroom, feeling much better now. His diaper still crinkled, but it was muted by the liquid weight of his “accident.” He opened the door and waddled in.

Under the bed, Geraden lay still, listening. He heard the pop of tapes coming off plastic, then the sound of a shower running, and took his opportunity, slipping out from under the bed. He opened the window, swung himself out legs-first, and closed it behind him from his perch on the sill. He had no way of latching it from the outside, and had to hope nobody would notice.

***

Victoria Melenos lay weeping silently in the darkness of her closet. She bit her paw hard to stop any sound from escaping, drawing a trickle of blood from her finger. Outside, in the bedroom, her husband knelt at the foot of their bed, his face turned toward the closet. Two members of the Secret Police, visible through the slats of the closet door, stood behind him, guns drawn. Their sparse uniforms blended into the darkness of the room, making them look like floating heads.

“Governor Melenos,” the taller one said, standing directly behind the kneeling Wolf, “your commission is hereby revoked by order of the United Predatory Nations central government."

“I love you,” the governor breathed. The tall officer shot once into the back of his neck, then twice more into his slumped back. Victoria let out a low, hitching moan, unable to contain it. The goons only looked over to the closet and smirked.

“Be moved out by Friday, Lady Melenos,” the shorter one said. “We have new residents coming in.”

Sweetness, I love it still man, keep it up ^^
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---
We don't need your hypocrisy
Execute real democracy
Post-industrial society
The unthinking majority
Anti-depressants
Controlling tools of your system
Making life more tolerable, Making life more tolerable
-The Unthinking Majority by Serj Tankian
--------------------
Proud member of the BLUE ARMY
FInish the fight against the Reds!

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

Honestly, I'm sort of nervous about the lack of feedback after this last chapter, since it's pretty drastically different from the rest of the story. Not neccessarily just here - I posted it on Yiffstar, and got nothing. Like I said before, I totally don't mind negative feedback, so if people don't like the change in direction, let me know.

Positive or negative feedback makes me happy. Little feedback makes me nervous

Chapter 9 either later tonight or tomorrow.

It's definitely intriguing and luring, keep up the good work, I enjoy it.
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I don't know whether to meow or roar.
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White Tiger

Joined : 28 Jan 2006 Posts : 9

As different as it is, I like the idea behind this viscious, merciless general being a DL... I'm slightly concerned with things getting too viceral in terms of this Pred-Prey war, but for now, it's excellent. Really looking forward to Ch. 9
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-Rawr!

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

Corwin Hall, Chapter 9

Geraden emerged from the swampy undergrowth, covered more in mud than furpaint now. He stumbled on a hollow log, going head over heels, and felt a wispy tingling sensation across his face as he landed on the soft earth. Spitting and pulling thick clumps of spider web off his muzzle, he stood up. An embankment rose in front of him, maybe twenty feet high. He clambered towards it and started climbing, grabbing onto the long grass for support.

He felt a prickling sensation on his neck, and, grimacing, pulled a large spider off his fur. He couldn’t see it in the murky gloom, but it felt at least four inches across. He winced as it turned in his paw and bit his thumb, and he flung it down the embankment. Above him, the sound of a passing automobile filled the night air, and headlights briefly illuminated the edge of the swamp. He resumed climbing, struggling for the last few steps, and flopped over the crest. A strip of asphalt lay in front of him, barely visible except for the yellow line down the center.

Geraden was pretty sure he was in the arranged pickup location, but he might have come out of the swamp too far south. With no moon to guide him, he had to rely on memory to navigate through the marshes. He plopped next to the road and took out his flashlight, recovering his breath.

After a few minutes, a pair of headlights became visible around the corner to the north. Geraden waited, watching them intently. They drew closer. Nothing yet… he waited as long as he could, then quickly rolled partway down the embankment, hiding from the oncoming light. As the car passed, he heard that its radio was blaring a Wolf war anthem. Close call. He waited for the car to be well out of sight, then climbed back up.

Shortly, another pair of headlights came around the turn. They advanced for a while, then flicked on and off, on and off. Bingo. Geraden held up the flashlight and returned the signal, and the headlights slowed, then came to a stop on the grass. Geraden ran towards them.

He came to the back of the dingy truck, and banged on the rear door. It opened, and a black Rabbit with tall, proud ears reached a paw out. Geraden took it and climbed in.

“Lord, you stink, Ger.”

***

To the west, Nigosoka burned. The governor was dead, murdered by Prey insurgents, the news reported. The central government had not delivered his replacement yet, and the Resistance saw its opportunity. From workhouses and prisons and meat farms on the outskirts, Prey species broke their bonds and rose like magma. The Sandleford weapons helped, but they were so enraged that they would have fought with their teeth and nails. The settlement fell in the space of a few hours; the Predators never had a chance to organize. One fox, an employee of the local Central Government Office, begged the rebels for mercy. He would join the resistance, he said. He had family in high places. He could provide information. In the end, though, they held a vote, and decided to hang him.

***

“The attempt at the subjugation of the Southern Prey failed because it was founded on a flawed ideology. We believed them to be less than we were. Our greatest astronomers confirmed our beliefs, citing ancient authorities from strange lands who had, supposedly, spoken with Destiny herself. We were the children of the gods, given a privileged position in the chain of existence, if only we would reach out to take it.

“Of course, our surprise when we discovered we’d underestimated the Prey seems foolish now. When you convince yourself that a Sentient is not a Sentient, what can you do but underestimate him? The Prey are patient, and tolerant, and it took much to push them to war. But push them we did, and found them too mighty.

“Our error was not simply in military estimation, however. The Ethic of Might was as much a betrayal of the Predators as it was of the Prey. As soon as we convinced ourselves that the Prey were less than us, we were no longer Predators. If they were really as inferior as we thought they were, we would not have been hunters, you see. We would have been farmers at best, and at worst murderous scavengers.

“A Predator does not gather up the supposedly inferior in camps and farms, and slaughter them wholesale. A Predator does not keep Prey as slaves. A Predator hunts, knowing that either he or the Prey will die, and it could very well be either. A Predator does not make fictions to belittle the Prey. A Predator knows exactly what the Prey is – knows so well that he loves the Prey.

“To truly live by a Predatory code is probably impossible today. After all, it is nothing less than the knowing, honorable embrace of murder. It is the acceptance and elevation of death. It might be self-consistent, possibly even noble, in a savage society, but never in today’s. Perhaps that is why we convinced ourselves that a thin construction of lies and hate was the true Predatory code.

“By elevating the low virtues above the higher, we missed the point of even the lower. Not only did we knowingly commit atrocities, the atrocities did not even serve to find us our Predatory destiny. We only belittled ourselves.

“We should have listened to our omegas. They knew. They never bought into our Ethic of Might. They banded together, staged little nonviolent protests, wrote little dissenting tracts. We laughed at them and crushed them along with our food. Now we have the blood of our brothers on our heads, as well as the blood of our neighbors.

“This stain will linger for generations. Our children’s children will feel its weight barely less than we do. We must atone. Our children must atone.”

Arvetis stopped reading and took his paw off the bottom of the scroll, letting it curl up on itself lightly.

“They’re all like that,” Chrysos rumbled next to him. The old Wolf tore a bite off the long strip of dark meat in his paw. “Worthless Preyloving propaganda.”

“But… I thought you said everything in this library was written by ancient Predators?” Arvetis looked blankly across the wide table in front of them, set with dishes of large hunks of Rabbit meat.

“It was, as far as we can tell. Goes to show you can’t ever let your guard down against weakness,” Chrysos said, chewing loudly. “Even our ancestors fell to it.”

“All of them were like this?” Arvetis’s voice was quiet. “Every scroll and book?”

“It’s a shame, really. We were going to open a museum. Now it’ll all have to be burned. By the way, enjoy your Rabbit while you can. Nigosoka looks likely to stay under enemy control, and they were our primary Prey farming site.”

“Excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.” Arvetis stood, looking queasy, and retreated from the table. On the way out of the dining hall, he nearly ran into General Phylax on his way in.

“Chaire –“

“Watch where you’re going, you lump!” Arvetis stalked off towards his quarters. Phylax watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the table and rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Phylax asked Chrysos, sitting down in front of Arvetis’s uneaten food.

“I do believe,” said Chrysos thoughtfully, tapping his chin, “he’s losing his nerve.”

***

“Well? How did it go?” The proud-eared Rabbit started intently at Geraden.

“One moment, Skander, please,” Geraden replied, panting and holding up his paws. The truck hit a bump in the road, and its elderly shocks did nothing to prevent Geraden from nearly falling out of his seat. “Do we have any antibiotic?”

“Yes, of course.” Skander dug through a small first-aid kit attached to the back of the driver’s seat and came out with a small tube and some gauze, handing it to Geraden. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a spider bite.” Geraden took a moment to wrap the bite and catch his breath. “It went well. Success on the primary and the secondary.”

“Yes! Geraden, this is excellent! If the West Coast Resistance can hold out, and we can keep Agathos here, he’s under our thumb! Until we don’t want him anymore, of course.” Skander drew a finger across his neck grimly. “Hey, what did you find for the secondary?”

Geraden grinned. “I’ll wait till we’re back to tell everyone. It’s good, though, I promise.” Skander looked frustrated by that, but he accepted it.

“We’ve got some news, too,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Well… we found something. While you were gone.” Skander looked like he was considering how to phrase his next statement.

“Go on.”

“One of the old collapsed tunnels underneath the warren… we dug it out. Bored, you know, nothing to do until you got back. You wouldn’t believe it, but there’s a whole cave right under the warren. About twenty feet across. And inside… well… Geraden, we think it’s the Touchstone.”

Geraden’s face remained blank, but one eyebrow slowly raised. “The… Touchstone.”

“I’m not crazy, I swear. You can see it when we get back.”

“He’s not crazy!” the Rabbit in the driver’s seat called back to Geraden.

“What, did Gel-Herathin the Great show you where to find it?” Geraden asked sardonically.

“It’s not a fairy tale,” Skander said. “It’s just like in all the old stories. You’ll see when we get back.”

“I suppose I will,” Geraden said, and shrugged.

(continued)

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

Chapter 9, cont.

***

Arvetis slammed the door to his room and turned the lock. He fumbled around for the lantern switches, cursing. This was worse than earlier. He didn’t know if he could control the panic in his chest this time. He made little wheezing sounds, and tears flowed involuntarily down his face. The worst thing was, he didn’t really even know why.

How could the entire library be Preyloving? He could maybe understand one voice, a dissenter given a bit of rope to hang himself with, but the entire collection of an ancient Predatory keep? The idea profoundly disturbed him. He needed his diapers.

Arvetis knew he’d been doing this more often, but he justified it by telling himself he’d stop once he got to Los Angeles. He wouldn’t need them there. He grabbed the diaper from his closet, unfolded it noisily, and spread it out on the bed. His chest was still hitching. He dropped his pants and sat on the diaper, quickly taping it up, not bothering with powder.

He spread out on the bed, completely still except for his bobbing chest, letting tears run into his pillow. He didn’t rub himself – it wasn’t sexual this time. He needed something to hold him, to let him be weak for a moment, and the diaper was the best thing he had.

The Secret Police had to be mistaken. There was some kind of misunderstanding here. The library was originally a collection of banned works, or confiscations from prisoners. It had to be. Arvetis needed to study it. He needed to know.

He lay there for about ten minutes, wiping his eyes and slowly recovering his breath. He comforted himself with the thought that understanding was just around the corner. Then, with no footsteps to precede it, there came a sharp rapping on his door.

Arvetis leapt out of bed, cursing under his breath, and threw his pants on. He grabbed a white robe from the wall hook and wrapped it around his upper body. “What?” he called, irritated.

“We need to talk, Arvetis.” The oily voice of Chrysos came from the other side of the door.

“Tomorrow.”

“It is urgent, sir.”

Arvetis sighed, looked down at himself to make sure nothing untoward was visible, and opened the door. “What is it?” he asked the old Wolf in an intentionally polite voice.

“We need to burn the library tonight, sir. Junior officers have been caught smuggling out manuscripts.”

“No.” Arvetis turned and tried to shut the door, but Chrysos had his boot in it.

“No?”

“No, we’re not burning the library.”

“Sir…” Chrysos gave a little chuckle. “I’m not sure I understand. These works are dangerous. They have to be destroyed before they can poison the minds of our men.”

“We don’t understand it yet,” Arvetis replied, flustered.

“Understand what, sir?”

“We don’t understand why they exist. Why they’re written the way they are. What do they mean? What are we supposed to do with them?”

Chrysos’s tone remained even, and his expression unreadable, as he said “We’re burning the books tonight.”

“What?” Arvetis blinked and shook his head. He was having trouble comprehending what Chrysos had said.

“And General Phylax is taking full, autonomous control of the armed forces. He alone will manage all military operations.” Chrysos’s voice was a smooth growl.

Slowly, comprehension dawned on Arvetis. So this was the form treason would take. Not fracture among the distant UPN nations, but impertinence from his own closest officers. His face began to contort, his lips rising above his teeth. He lunged at Chrysos, wrapping both paws around his neck, digging into the flesh with his claws. “You… insolent… cur!”

As slick as silk, Chrysos slid a paw under Arvetis’s arm, reaching up and behind the younger, larger Wolf. Arvetis felt the cold metal point of a knife against the base of his neck. “Careful,” Chrysos wheezed. “You’re making the same mistake your brother did.”

Staring balefully into Chrysos’s face, Arvetis loosened his grip slightly. “Good boy,” Chrysos said. “Now back into your room.” The two of them, entwined in a hateful embrace, stepped slowly back into Arvetis’s chambers. “And now, you will let go of my neck, and you will play nice puppy, or every single Predator in this stronghold will know about your naughty little secret by sunup.”

Arvetis dropped his paws numbly from Chrysos’s neck. Chrysos kept the knife in place a moment longer, but gave a short laugh, and sheathed it. “Don’t look so surprised, Arvetis.”

“How?” Arvetis asked when he found his voice again. “How do you know?”

“It is my job to know things, Arvetis. Your brother had the same penchant, of course, so it wasn’t hard to guess.”

This puzzled Arvetis. He could not imagine Aeschros’s hulking form in diapers. “He did?”

“Oh, yes. It got quite troublesome by the end.” Chrysos was clearly enjoying Arvetis’s humiliation.

“Look… it isn’t a ‘penchant.’ I need them.”

“I’m sure you think you do. But the Board for the Use and Consumption of Prey Species will, no doubt, disagree with you.”

Arvetis blinked, recalculating the situation for just a moment. “What?”

“Those cute little bunny males you bring up here from the slave quarters aren’t classified for sexual use. We don’t have any sex-classified Prey here. It’s bad for the solders’ moral fabric.” Chrysos emphasized the last two words.

“Yes… yes, I know.” Arvetis hunted for words. He had to play this off. Frankly, he didn’t care who found out about the Rabbits; it was practically a tradition. Of course Aeschros had indulged in it, as well. Chrysos was showing his old-fashioned sensibilities by thinking this was a point of leverage. But things were getting out of hand, and he needed Chrysos gone immediately. “It was foolish of me. You’re right.”

“Yes. And the library?”

“Burn it. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

“And the military operations?”

Arvetis hesitated here. It would actually be a relief to have them off his back, he reflected. He was terrible at them, and he knew it. He also knew, though, that as soon as he gave up all pretense of being a military commander, his days were numbered. Chrysos was smart enough to keep Arvetis around whether he respected him or not. Phylax, on the other hand, would be likely to start getting ideas.

“I’ll keep the northern advance. It’s inconsequential; you know it. Once the west coast falls, the rest of the country will follow. Phylax can manage the western offensive.” Chrysos looked skeptical. “Do you want to make me look weak in front of my first general?” Arvetis asked.

Chrysos nodded. “All right. I’ll let you tell him yourself so it seems like your idea. You have one day.” The old Wolf turned and walked out of the door, then looked back over his shoulder. “No hard feelings, Sir Agathos.”

“No.”

“You may be smarter than your brother, after all.” With that, Chrysos shut the door.

Age : 26 Joined : 05 Jun 2008 Posts : 87

By the way, I read through the entire story yesterday and found some embarrassing mistakes in the earlier chapters. I wasn't proofreading nearly as much back then. I want to formally apologize for "her angular rodent muzzle angled downwards," and offer a refund to anyone who read that chapter. I should probably also apologize for using "squat" about 43 times in one paragraph way back in chapter 1.

At some point, I'll probably go through the whole story and fix up spots like that, and some other things that bugged me. No major plot changes or anything, just housekeeping. That's the problem with releasing something in chapter format - once it's out there, it's hard to go back and edit.

It's getting to be quite interesting. This is one of the more original ones I've seen. Keep it up! ^^
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We don't need your hypocrisy
Execute real democracy
Post-industrial society
The unthinking majority
Anti-depressants
Controlling tools of your system
Making life more tolerable, Making life more tolerable
-The Unthinking Majority by Serj Tankian
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FInish the fight against the Reds!