[Mkguild] First Impressions (1/?)

[Nathan Pfaunmiller]

This is the beginning of the next story in my first storyline.  I'm not
entirely happy with the first part, but I wanted to get some opinions on HOW
I should fix it before I tried.

____________________

*December 2, 707CR*

*
*

            Alex made his way through the halls at an even pace, neither
hurrying nor sightseeing.  He was going somewhere for certain, but he showed
no sense of urgency as he walked.  In all truth, he did wish to arrive
somewhere as soon as possible, but he had lived in the Keep long enough to
realize that walking calmly could get him to his destination almost as
quickly as running could, while leaving him looking far more relaxed and
professional than many others who chose to rush through things.  His point
was quickly proved for him as he turned one corner, and found the patrol
master's doo sitting ajar directly in front of him.  He walked in calmly,
ready to respond to his summon immediately.



            George met him personally just inside the door.  It seemed that
he was, for the moment, occupied with dispatching a messenger somewhere.  It
was evidently not very sensitive, since any passerby could easily hear
George's instructions, but it was important enough for the jackal to motion
Alex through to the next room without further explaining the summons.



            Alex ducked into the room beyond the second door.  It functioned
both as an office for George, and as an impromptu meeting chamber in which
briefings, reports, and more private subjects could be discussed.  At this
point, the room had been cleared for the coming meeting, but a few scraps of
important paperwork were sitting on George's desk in case he forgot about
them.



            Already occupying the room was someone that Alex recognized
immediately.  It was a man, tall by human standards measured only from head
to hoof, but also sporting a rack of antlers that emphasized his height.  The
stag looked up as Alex entered, and a grin appeared on his muzzle
immediately.



            Alex managed to speak first.  "Gerard!  I hadn't expected to see
you until our next patrol!"



            "I can honestly say I'm as surprised as you," Gerard replied,
standing and clasping the lynx's hand in his.  His hoof-like hand was as
massive as the rest of him, and his hard fingers, even after being shortened
by the Curse, very nearly touched on the other side of his friend's
hand.  "Maybe
they've finally gotten my promotion paperwork through the system," he
suggested.



            "You know how I feel about that," Alex said, shaking his
head.  "The
day you leave is the day they stop thinking I'm a good patrol captain; I'm
nothing without the muscle to back up my talk."



            Gerard shook his head and laughed.  "Well, I'm sure I could find
you someone else to do your dirty work when I'm gone.  You'll do fine,
though, you and Lucy both."



            The two friends sat down beside each other and carried on a
conversation, talking for a while more about life on patrol, then turning to
talk of everyday life.  They had been serving in the same patrol for three
years.  During the assault last winter, their leader had fallen early in the
battle, and Alex had distinguished himself by leading a combined group of
patrols that had started the assault stranded outside of the walls in the
blizzard.  Few of the men survived, but they had been instrumental in
providing pressure from behind the attacking army, forcing them to move
forward with less care than they otherwise might have taken.  Alex had been
given command of the patrol, but only he and Gerard had survived of the
original four patrol members.  They had yet to receive a fourth member, and
indeed there was debate as to whether any would ever be assigned, but they
had at least been assigned a field mage, Lucy, who had since shown herself
very competent in the field.



            While their military careers paralleled each other closely,
their personal lives were almost opposite.  Alex was a loner, who found most
of his companionship with the patrolmen and at the Mule.  He had honestly
never considered seeking a wife, and his current lifestyle suited him fine.
Gerard, however, had been married since before the Three Gates, and still
lived happily with his wife even after she had been reduced in appearance to
twelve years of age.  Few people had the courage to ask how, but the two of
them had had two children since the Three Gates, despite the dramatic size
difference and her young physical age.  They now had three children by
birth, and one that they took in after he was orphaned during the Winter
Assault.  On patrol, he was a vicious fighter who made full use of his size
and strength to defeat opponents.  With his family he was more often seen
using his size and strength to carry his children for whatever game they
were playing at the time.



            George eventually entered the room, closing the door behind him
while mumbling something incoherent.  He nodded to the two men sitting in
front of the desk and moved to the other side to sit down.  As he was
settling in, his eyes fell on the pages spread out in front of him.  For a
moment there was something that resembled panic behind his eyes, but he
quickly stifled it and returned to the task at hand.



            "How are you, gentlemen?" he asked.



            "All right, all things considered," Gerard responded.



            "The same for me," Alex responded.



            "Good, good."  George folded his hands in front of him and took
a deep breath before continuing.  "I called both of you here because I need
a good, skilled patrol group for a mission of some importance.  I called
Lucy here as well, but she is currently in Glen Avery visiting family.  I've
sent the instructions you are about to receive with a messenger, and she
should be arriving tomorrow already briefed.  That gives me about
twenty-four hours to explain what I need from you."



            "A question, sir," Gerard interrupted, raising one of his thick
hands.



            "Gerard?"



            "Importance notwithstanding, how long of a patrol are we
expecting at this point?"



            "Several weeks.  I will give a more specific answer in time, but
that will require explaining the nature of the mission."



            Gerard nodded and motioned for George to continue.



            George took a deep breath before saying anything else.  When he
finally did speak, his eyes moved back and forth between the two of them as
he gauged their reactions.



            "There is someone in the Keep, someone who has recently arrived
seeking shelter.  This man has done nothing within our domain to merit
throwing him out, and we are in no position to force him to leave.  This man
is, however, considered a significant threat to Duke Thomas.  With the
wedding of our lord fast approaching, the best opportunity this man would
have is sometime during the preparations, if not the wedding itself.  We
want you to keep him away from the keep until the wedding is over."



            "Babysitting an assassin?  That's something I have never tried
before," Gerard noted.


            "I would point out that there are few with any more experience
than you in this regard," George said drily.  "It is not exactly common to
deal with a potential assassin in this way, but our hand is somewhat forced.
We have made it our policy to provide a home to anyone who asks, unless we
can find some outstanding crime on their account among our allies.  The man
we are dealing with now had a history with some of our allies, but has no
recorded offense in any of their territories.  Those places where his
involvement is recognized universally absolve him of any wrongdoing; they
call his assassinations acts of war.  Just as you cannot be charged with any
wrongdoing for killing Nasoj's men during last winter's assault, our man is
considered innocent.



            There are other places where we suspect he was involved, but
many of the local governments refuse to recognize his existence.  Sometimes
they have declared the murderer dead; even though we are almost certain he
committed the crime there, they claimed to have killed him rather than watch
their people tear each other apart through fear.  Other places, no murder is
recognized.  In those cases the policing force is often suspect; we believe
that our man simply did jobs for a party that could cover his tracks once he
was done."



            "Babysit a very good assassin," Gerard appended to his earlier
observation.  "Now, let's just assume that somehow I am not in the least bit
worried about patrolling with a suspected murderer.  Let's just say I want
to be friends with him.  In that case, I need to know exactly who 'our man'
is.  A name would be nice, to start."



            "The man's name is Vincent Lois."



            Gerard looked over at Alex and shrugged.  "Never heard of him,"
Alex confirmed.  Gerard turned back to George and just shook his head.



            "Not familiar with the man."



            "You will have a chance to become familiar with him on your
patrol," George responded.  "You'll be spending a good bit of time out
there."



            "That's one other thing," Gerard interrupted, raising one of his
hands to forestall further conversation.  "The Duke's wedding is the Eve of
the Yule celebration, correct?"  George simply nodded.  "I may have some
objection to this patrol."



            George sighed.  "Besides not wishing to patrol with a suspected
killer?"



            "Yes.  As I am sure you understand, the Yule of last year was
somewhat hectic for me and my family.  I was scheduled to patrol just for
Yule's Eve that day, I believe, but as we all know, very few plans played
out as they were intended in light of a certain attack."  Gerard cleared his
throat before continuing.  "I had promised my wife that I would return to
celebrate with our family after completing my duties.  Due to complications,
however, there was precious little celebration occurring anywhere near the
Yule.  Eli's grace being what it is, I did manage to toast the new year in
the company of my wife, but even that was a brief respite.



            All that to say this: I promised my wife that I would not take
any patrols that would keep me away from her for another Yuletide.  Now, a
week or two starting today I would be more inclined to accept, but even if
you told me that we would return on the night of the wedding, as soon as it
was over, I would be very nervous about taking the job."



            George nodded and tapped his claws on the desk for a few
moments, deep in thought.  "The decision of who to send was given to me
alone," he said.  "Since I deal with the patrolmen more often than my
colleagues I can hardly say I am surprised.  Choosing your patrol was no
accident.  You've all proven yourselves, both during and in the wake of the
Winter Assault.  There are others, perhaps, who could take this
responsibility, but many of them are already on task to make sure that no
attacks work their way through our defenses this year.  We will be dealing
with many VIP's, and even the smallest complication could harm our
reputation among our allies.  At present, you are both the best prepared and
the most available of all possibilities.  Now, it is entirely possible that
we could have you back inside the Keep by the Yule."



            "That consideration is quite appreciated, but I do not think you
understand.  Finding a little time during the defense last winter to
celebrate for a moment was really all that saved my skin.  If I am absent
from this year's celebrations, or even got close to missing them, my wife is
very likely to give either one or both of us a very large, verbose piece of
her mind.  As you are my superior officer, I feel compelled to inform you
that pieces of her mind are often accompanied by sharp implements prodded at
non-vital areas of the body.  Painfully"



            George could not quite suppress a grin at the delayed qualifier,
but he recognized that there was little he could do about the
situation.  "Gerard,
I really don't have time to make any last minute adjustments.  I fully
understand why it is an inconvenience, but we need to get Lois as far away
from the Keep as possible during the wedding.  I'm sure that your patrol
mates will have no problem returning through the night if that is what you
must do to arrive by the Yule, but that is as much consideration as I feel
comfortable giving."



            Gerard sighed and nodded.  "I understand, sir.  Eli knows, I
desire the Duke's safety as much as anyone else around here.  I'll do my
part, you can be sure of that."  He turned a bit to address his
commander.  "And
we will be returning through the night, by the way."



            "Very good.  I want you to have your things ready to go as soon
as possible.  I expect an early start in the morning; I want Lois as far
away from here as possible by nightfall."  George smiled.  "I knew you would
be willing to do it."



            Gerard shook his head and gave his best attempt at a smile.  "Long
distance running, oh joy."



*          *          *



            Lois hugged the wall, each claw finding a crack to grip
instinctively as he shot along its base.  The speed of his Curse-born form
amazed him, especially considering the change in scale.  With his own body
so much smaller, he had expected that he would feel considerably
slower.  Instead,
his natural speed, combined with a new sense of scale, combined to make him
feel faster than ever before.



            Of course, this perception was not necessarily passed to any
onlookers, so he had to make sure that he didn't run in front of anyone or
anything that came too close to him.  Thankfully, most of the split second
decision that were needed throughout the run were taken care of by his
instincts.  Tight turns and quick dodges abounded as he wound his way across
one of the Keep's streets, for no better reason than to say he had done it.



            He finally left the road and returned to where he had left his
clothing after the shift.  He kept it in a hidden area, but made sure that
he could find his way back before leaving.  He shifted back to his humanoid
form as soon as he saw the base of the bench where his clothes lay and began
to dress quickly.  There were other things he wanted to do today, after all.



            "Vincent Lois?"



            Improved ears received and interpreted the sudden sounds with
remarkable efficiency.  He began to turn quickly, when he felt something run
through the still-exposed fur on his back.  Reflexes born of years of
fighting kicked in, and he tightened his spin, driving a backhand into the
nerves of the person's wrist, and feeling no armor.  The strength of the
blow was enough to cause the person to release their grip on what they were
holding.  Lois kept going; exploiting the surprise of his opponent, he
caught his opponent's hand and twisted him down until his own army prevented
him from getting loose.



            A few moments were spent in silence while Lois looked at the
young man he had just taken down, while his opponent tried his best to
relieve the pain of the hold.  Finally, he managed to break the silence
through clenched teeth.



            "Message for you, sir!"



            Lois finally noticed the object that had fallen to the ground
during the disarm.  It was a scroll, rolled up and sealed with an emblem he
had not yet seen.  He suddenly realized that he had seen the person he was
now restraining; he had delivered his summons when he was requested by Lord
Thomas.



            With this realization, Lois quickly released the hold.  "Sorry
about that," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed.  "I've had too many
people try to kill me from behind to let someone come up without announcing
themselves."



            "I'll be sure to remember that before delivering any further
messages to you," the coyote gasped.  He panted for a few moments, flexing
his arm back and forth to try to relieve the pain.



            Lois picked up the message and broke the seal without much
thought.  He scanned the contents quickly, then folded the message
nonchalantly in his left hand.



            "Thank you for delivering this to me," Lois said quietly.  He
slipped the message into a pocket inside his cloak, then threw the cloak
over his shoulders.  "It seems that I have some business to attend to
elsewhere.  I hope you won't mind if I take my leave of you now."



            "No, by all means."  The coyote gestured down the corridor with
one of his paws.  Lois wasted no time in taking his leave, and was soon well
on his way to respond to the summons.



            The coyote sighed as he left, shaking his head while working the
pain from his shoulder.  "They don't pay me enough for this," he muttered.



*          *          *



            Lois found George's office without too much trouble.  Kyia was
kind enough to give him a more direct rout, and he was ushered straight into
the jackal's office with no delay.  The scout master was shuffling a pile of
papers around on his desk when Lois was shown in, but finally just left them
rest in a random spread across his desk.  He placed his elbows firmly on top
of the pile as his guest took a seat, and looked the unfamiliar person over
once before speaking.



            "Well, you seem to have gotten on the Curse's good side," he
commented.  "Looks like you'll do fine in the winter, which is perfect for
what I intend for you at the moment."



            "Scoutmaster George?" Lois said, holding out a recently changed
paw to the man.



            "Ah, yes."  George took the hand and gave it one shake before
setting his arm down.  "And you're Vincent Lois, if my secretary is to be
believed."



            "I am, sir.  If I may ask, is it a common practice to send a man
a message the morning after he is Cursed, telling him that he has a patrol
the next day?"



            "Not specifically, but it is mandatory that most residents of
the Keep take part in periodic patrols.  Since you have already expressed
your desire to become a citizen, your name was submitted to me for work
several days ago.  As you can see, I have plenty of other things to work
on."  He gestured to the papers.  "As a result, I just got to you now.  That
this is your first day Cursed is fortunate happenstance; it gives you a few
hours to become reacquainted with combat before you need to exercise it."



            "I had assumed there would be some battery of tests prior to my
submission for patrol duty.  It seems a bit reckless to send men into the
field without full knowledge of their abilities."



            George drummed his claws on the desk once, leaving visible marks
in the papers that obscured the wood from view.  "In the past this practice
was more common, but we have had a very hard year.  Doubtless you are aware
of the attack that was launched during our last winter.  We've lost too many
men to be picky."



            Lois looked sidelong at the patrol master for a moment before
speaking.  "I was taught that one weak member in an otherwise sound patrol
group can mean the deaths of the entire group.  How does this fit your
philosophy?"



            "My philosophy is that we guard against that by sending them
with something more than a sound patrol group.  Not to mention that, in your
case especially, we've told them to leave you if you do anything stupid."



            "Oh, that's very encouraging."



            "Certainly," George said with a nod.  "Hopefully, it will
encourage you to avoid that sort of idiocy."  He grinned.  "This warning
does generally have that effect."



            "So I'm not the first person to receive it?"



            "Hardly."  George leaned back in his chair and studied Lois'
face for a moment, weighing his words carefully.  "We make this sort of
provision for just about everyone whose allegiance is in doubt.  In your
case, we have enough intelligence on your past to know that you may be
dangerous regardless of the sincerity of your desire to stay.  That said, we
have set something of a precedent; if you prove your loyalty to Metamor, we
will return the favor."



            "How's that?"



            "This is a large Keep, Lois.  It is not hard for people to
disappear within our walls, and anyone who seeks you can be diverted if we
cause a few more incriminating pieces of data to be -- missed."



            "Courtesy of Master Andwyn."  Lois presented the name flippantly
to see if he got a reaction.  What he received was a shrug from the jackal
in front of him.  The scoutmaster said nothing for a moment, instead leaning
over the arm of his chair and picking up a wineglass that had been
carelessly placed near his paws.



            "That depends if you believe that any such man exists," George
noted taking a sip of his wine.  "Like most anything else in the area of
intelligence, the identity of the more important people in the upper
echelons obscured by rows of safeguards, not least of which is their ability
to cease existing if necessary.  At any given point, Andwyn may be one man,
or he may become a committee.  If necessity dictates, Andwyn may even become
a person of interest in an intelligence mission."



            "And you are at liberty to discuss this?"



            George smiles, some of the wine clinging to his whiskers.  "Why
wouldn't I be?  After all, Andwyn does not exist anyway."



            Lois raised an eyebrow, but smiled.  "Well, I suppose that I
will be off.  After all, I do need to get some things together before I go
patrolling."



            George nodded.  "You might also want to see the Healer before
too long; he'll probably want to make sure that you don't kill yourself by
doing something stupid to your new body."



            Lois acknowledged the recommendation, but left the room without
any further words to the scoutmaster.  George took another sip of the wine
before setting it back down at its dangerous position near his paws.  He
shook his head.  There had to be some better way to give Andwyn some
plausible deniability regarding his work as the spymaster.  He was tired of
having to make up stories about the Keep's intelligence.


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