1.
The office was tiny, with a high ceiling. Most of it was filled by a large desk facing away from a high, narrow window overlooking rolling meadows that met a dense forest. Most of the rest of the office was filled by the occupant of the office, First Sergeant of the Hunt Titus Forminciun. A musty, earthy scent filled the spaces within the office that the First Sergeant and his desk did not, a moldering-leaves-in-autumn scent, a bear-like scent. This was no great surprise, as the First Sergeant was, in fact, a large brown bear.
A young fox tod stood before the desk, trying not to wring his russet tail between his hands in his nervousness, instead running his hand through his thick forelock. Then he remembered where he was, and slapped both arms to his sides. This was not the first time that Yerzle, the fox in question, had encountered the First Sergeant, but it was the first time in this office. His head filled with his superior’s thick, musty scent, and he felt suddenly faint.
Both wore the green tunics and dun-colored breeches of the King’s Huntsmen, although the fox had noticeably fewer stripes upon his sleeves. The First Sergeant was reviewing a file, one of many stacked in several high piles upon the wide mesa of his desk, and upon which Yerzle could see his name neatly printed on the front cover. A pair of delicate, wire-rimmed reading glasses gave the First Sergeant a touch of the scholar, but however they softened his appearance was offset by their precarious perch upon his broad snout, the ragged notch torn from his left ear, and the three narrow scars that descended from the corner of his right eye to the corner of his mouth. He turned a page in the file, flipped back to the first page, then turned it again.
“So, Huntsman Morosta.” The First Sergeant’s voice was a bass rumble that Yerzle felt in his chest as much as heard. “You’ve been in the King’s Huntsmen for....”
“Eighteen months, First Sergeant.”
“Yes,” the First Sergeant said. “Eighteen months. I see your father was in the Huntsmen.”
“And my grandfather,” Yerzle added. “And my mother’s uncle.”
The First Sergeant glanced over the edge of the file folder at Yerzle, his frown causing the scars to stretch eerily. Do not interrupt me again, the look said. Yerzle gulped audibly and groped for his tail.
“You’re a legacy, which is commendable. But in those eighteen months, you have received four Action Notices, haven’t you?” Yerzle said nothing, only miserably wringing his tail.
“Haven’t you?” Now the First Sergeant’s expression, unchanged, clearly meant Answer me when I ask you a question.
“Yes, First Sergeant.” Yerzle’s voice was a dry croak. He worked hard to keep his knees from knocking. The First Sergeant’s stink was almost overwhelming, living up to the rude nickname that he’d been given by the rank-and-file Huntsmen, although no one ever even whispered it aloud if they thought he was within three hundred yards.
“The first was only three weeks after enlisting. You tracked and captured a black-footed leaper in the Piney Woods. A leaper that was intended as prey for the Younger Prince in his own hunt.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“The second was two months after that, when you entered the Redstone Tower and set off the wards within. You were lucky to get out with only a fall down the main staircase, and it took the Mage-Ensigns another week to corral the phantasms properly. You ruined the Princess’s twelfth birthday party over that.”
The First Sergeant again referred to the file. “The third involved the lake monster, and the less said about that, the better.”
“If I may, First Sergeant....”
“No, you may not.” The First Sergeant closed the file and tossed it onto the nearest pile of similar files, then leaned back in his chair, which creaked ominously. Yerzle released his tail, which immediately curled between his legs.
“Finally, while on patrol near the Golden Barrows, you interfered with the King’s own efforts, barging into the tomb of Gil-Toran and disrupting the wight of the ancient king from completing the sacrifice of a captured maiden.”
“I heard her cries for help!” Yerzle exclaimed.
“Of course you did! That’s why the King was there!” The First Sergeant leaned forward again, his elbows on the desk and his head over the stacks of files. “In the year-and-a-half that you’ve been a member of the King’s Huntsmen, Yerzle, have you learned what our responsibility is?”
The First Sergeant was intimidating in any situation, an effect that was magnified one hundredfold in the tiny office. “We manage the Royal Lands,” Yerzle replied meekly, his ears flattened against his head. “We maintain them for the use of the King and his family.”
“Precisely. We manage, and we maintain. For the King and his family. We manage to get a black-footed leaper for the Younger Prince to hunt. Did you notice that its claws had been dulled? The Prince needs to learn how to hunt, but let’s face it, he’s only nine. We maintain the ruins and other abandoned structures within the Royal Lands. The phantasms of the Redstone Tower are on our payroll! The Princess’s birthday party was also a learning exercise for decision-making.”
“And the wight of Gil-Toran?”
“If you didn’t already know that he’s the king’s nine-times great grand-uncle, then you haven’t been doing your research. He works for free, out of familial obligations, but the maiden was an employee.” The First Sergeant sat back and removed his spectacles. “And it has come to my attention that you have been seen in the company of that maiden, within the city. Is this true?”
Yerzle attempted to speak, but could not. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Fraternizing with a civilian employee of the Royal Lands is a violation of the Huntsman Code of Conduct, you understand. We cannot allow the two sides of this facility to become intermingled. It’s bad for the operation.”
“It was only dinner, First Sergeant!”
The First Sergeant glared at Yerzle, who shrunk upon himself and took up his tail again, twisting it in his paws. “My information tells me it was three dinners,” the First Sergeant replied. “With drinks after one of them, and a trip to the phantasmagoria show after another.”
“Your.... Your information?” Yerzle looked about the room in misery. Perhaps there was a nearby hole he could crawl down, or a cliff he could fling himself off. Unfortunately for him, however, the floor was as solid as the First Sergeant’s biceps, and the only ledge he could see was the windowsill, protected from his flight by the First Sergeant’s considerable bulk. He doubted that the First Sergeant would allow him to escape this interview so easily.
The First Sergeant sighed, a sound that caused Yerzle’s guts to freeze in a way that his mere disapproval could not. And so far, his disappointment was terribly frightening. They were silent, the First Sergeant sitting behind his desk staring implacably at the Huntsman standing before him in fear for his career and, possibly, his life.
Finally, the First Sergeant spoke. “Are you going to wet yourself?”
“Excuse me?” Yerzle asked, shocked out of his fear. “Am I going to what?”
“Wet yourself. It happens sometimes. You’ve shown about four different submissive postures, and I was just curious as to whether you’d go all the way. I like to keep track, since maintenance hates it when they have to clean it up, and I usually have to buy them drinks, after.”
“No,” Yerzle replied. “I don’t think so.”
“Good. You looked like you were on the verge.” The First Sergeant opened up a new folder and removed a goldenrod-colored sheet of paper. Then he stood and squeezed around his desk to stand next to Yerzle.
Standing, the First Sergeant was enormous, far larger than he appeared when seated. “Your enthusiasm for the job of Huntsman is unmistakable and, apparently, irrepressible, which presents me with... challenges. I’ve got no choice but to reassign you,” he said, offering the sheet to Yerzle. “You’ll be joining Bureau 13.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” Yerzle said, taking the paper. “Where do I report?”
“This is a large organization,” the First Sergeant admitted. “You first need to report to Annex Three, and they’ll take care of things from there.”
“Thank you, First Sergeant,” Yerzle said. “For a second there, I thought you were going to kick me out of the Huntsmen! I appreciate this second chance, and won’t let you down!”
“Yes....” the First Sergeant muttered as Yerzle dashed down the hall to find Annex Three. “Enjoy your new assignment....”
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