To Protect or Serve Installment 2 by sirtimberwolf < Submission

Keywords male 1116254, female 1005744, rabbit 129015, human 100661, fantasy 24571, clean 10226, series 4427, plot 2994, no-yiff 550, serial 39

Tales From the Kingdom of the Red Sun

Series 1

To Serve or Protect

Installment 2

Tamira stood under a cloth awning amidst a spring of bright blue flowers that were painted a deep violet by the high hanging crimson sun. The gentle slope of the hill surrounding the field laid out around her in every direction, providing a full panorama of the territory which she was responsible for. A dozen tiny hamlets dotted the landscape, connected by a maze of dirt trails used to avoid local travel tax obligations leveraged by greedy mayors. In the shadow of the Exter's sprawl, the villages looked like rocks lost amidst tall grass and yet in each one of those villages, lives were being lived; furs were singing and dancing, loving and being loved, working and prospering by the sweat of their brow. It was a thing of beauty.

It had been two days since the exchange with Lord Byron Testrine and little had changed, though Richard had surprised her by burning many of his night hours trying to get up to speed on current affairs within the city, often asking questions of any who would answer him and never straying far from her side during normal 'duty' hours.

“My lady?” Richard stepped up beside her, lowering his head. “Forgive me, I had not seen you leave.”

“Obligations, mister Richard,” she said softly. It had only been by luck that she had avoided him until now. Since it was too late to turn back, she motioned to the Lionar nearest her to invite the first of her visitors up. He would leave afterwards, the sight of heavily armed soldiers would frighten her guests.

They were young, full of life and bright eyed. Furs and humans alike, none of them older than fifteen summers. Those that could walk did so with the aid of a parent or one of Urda's priests, others supported one another and hobbled forward as quickly as their bent feet would allow them to.

It was a horrible disease that warped the muscles of the ankle and twisted it, bound it around the bone so tightly that it paralyzed the leg and, in extreme cases, broke the bone. No one knew the precise origin of it but the alchemists of Exter had been working on the problem for years.

Tamira preferred the more direct approach and so long as the priests did not ask specific questions, she could continue to help her people as she was meant to. She set the tips of her fingers against the strings of her lyre as the first pair hobbled under her awning. A skunk boy no older than eight summers and his sister lowered their heads weakly, half stumbling towards her.

She held up her hand and knelt down in front of them with a soft, reassuring smile. “Where are your parents?”

“T- They're dead,” the girl whispered. Her eyes were already glistening with tears. “We've come from Tresan in the south, missus. They said you would help--”

“Shh, sweet child. Tell me, whom do you serve?”

“S- Serve, missus?”

“Yes, have your parents taught you of the gods?”

“I--” the girl stirred away from Tamira's gaze. “Missus, I. . . I don't know?”

“It is fine, sweet child, I was just curious to whom I should offer my prayers for you.” Tamira felt Richard's presence as he knelt beside her. Her right ear twitched involuntarily, acutely aware of the closeness of his body, of the scent of his bathing oils-- musky, strong but subtle and warm. She kept her eyes on the children and forced herself to smile. “Then I shall pray to Urda for your health. The Church in our city could use some help if you were willing, I am sure the Bishop would make room for you both.”

“Missus?” They both looked at her as though the concept was beyond them.

“Come now, we cannot have faces as cute as yours soiled with sweat and dirt from the farm, can we?”

They looked at each other.

“My Lady?” Richard leaned dangerously close to her, whispering. “I don't know if this will work, my Lady, I don't think the Temple will take them like this. Their charitable dormitories are already full and the city ones are even worse.”

“Not like this, no. We shall have to fix that.”

The girl pushed against her brother to keep him upright. “We'll do whatever it takes, missus. We'll work very hard! Night and day if that's what it takes!”

“Nonsense, I would scrub the floors myself before I would press someone into service, sweet child. . . It is an option, nothing more,” she smiled softly. “Come, sit, allow me to play a song for you.”

The children slumped down to the thick braided carpet, obviously relieved to be off their feet. With Tamira's help they set their feet out in front of them, looking at her expectantly as she ran her fingers across her lyre.

The high pitched notes struck and instant chord and grabbed the attention of the priests. Their gaze became more inquisitive, sharper, almost predatory. Tamira took in a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She closed her eyes half way and began to play.

Showing any signs of weakness or discomfort would give away the source of her ability making breathing extremely important. The drain was something she had been careful to account for but even so, sometimes fey magic was unpredictable by those not born with it. That was to say that it was almost universally unpredictable.

As she played, she wrapped her mind around the notes, envisioning each one as a salve which fell from the air to land on the children's ankles. One by one each note melted and piled atop the other until they formed a thick salve of blue and white energy that rolled through the children's fur with such liquid grace that Tamira could feel it tickling her own fur. The notes seeped in through their fur to their skin and through their skin into the muscles beneath where it soaked in deeper and deeper until an the entire muscle glowed.

“It tingles!” The girl said.

Tamira felt the sensation in her own calves fading. “Shh...” The longer she went on the more tightly wound her calves became until the pain became blistering. She could feel her bones grinding together and her hands trembled as she fought with every drop of self control she had to keep from grabbing the source of her agony. Sweat broke out on her face. Her ankles ground together as her body began to betray her and try to rip her feet in opposite directions.

Still, she played.

“By the gods,” someone whispered near her.

The climax of the song came and she almost tripped over the notes. Her body wrenched harder in opposite directions. She wanted to scream. Her jaw clenched so tightly she thought her teeth would crack and yet she continued.

One note in front of the other. The muscles of the children's feet slowly turned around the axis of their shins, creeping into place while the powerful glow seared off all traces of their disease. The song continued for five notes, lyrical, beautiful notes that broke smoothly across her ears and heralded the release of her muscles' tension. A sudden but relieving snap ended the song.

She slumped back, remembered the Urda priests and turned her slump into forward momentum to kiss the ankles of the children. She mumbled “Urda be praised and watch over these children.” When she was sure no one could see, she panted against the carpet. The first time was always the worst.

“My Lady. . .”

“Missus?”

Tamira took a deep breath and sat up, smiling despite herself. “How do you feel?”

The children looked at one another, bit their lips in unison and broke into a wide smile as they looked back to her. “Better! Very better!”

“I am so happy to hear that.” She motioned one of the priests over. “Go with this male, he will bring you to the Bishop and you can decide what will become of your future.” Tamira exhaled a deep breath. “I am sorry to hear of your parents, I lost mine when I was young as well, but you will grow stronger. Urda will look over you and love you as She does for all of us.”

“Th- Thank you, missus!”

When the children were gone she felt Richard's gaze upon her. She turned to him but he looked away. There was something different in his expression but she could not make sense of it, almost as though something was wrong but he was too proud to speak of it. He knew his place, of course he would not speak of it.

When the next child came under the tent, though, he was quick to help her sit down in front of Tamira. It seemed that whatever was on his mind would have to wait. Several hours burned away under the harsh glare of the red sun and the pleasant agony of the lyre's music until at long last, the final child was taken care of. There would be more, but for right now her day was done. Her duty to her subjects and her father was complete for the month.

Richard was beside her with a pitcher of water and a cup. He poured some and offered it, saying nothing.

“You disapprove.” She took a deep drink, allowing herself to breathe in the gentle scent of his musk. She realized it only after she had done so and quickly turned her back to him. Heat burned her cheeks. She was too tired to focus, too comfortable. Another deep drink and she passed the cup back.

Richard refilled it. “I am but a humble man, my Lady. I know when to hold my own council.”

Tamira glanced at him. “I doubt the priests would want to hear of it.”

“We all have secrets, my Lady,” he offered the cup with a faint smile. For some reason it was more disarming than it should have been and yet it was genuine. He would keep the secret. Tamira smiled slightly in return.

Maybe she had underestimated this man.

#

It was in the same Grand Hall which she had defended herself from Lord Byron's demands that Tamira stood in front of the Contingent of Jewelers union with a stack of wage papers and contracts between them. She neatly parted the stacks of paperwork and looked to the Contingent's appointed speaker, a dour looking lupine who's hands were often shaking. “I assure you, mister Scalor, everything that can be done with regards to Lord Byron's employment of your members is being handled. I have addressed the issue with him and I will ask you the same thing; have patience.”

“My Lady, he is exploiting us all.” His gaze turned up to her briefly before he looked down again. “Many of Exter's merchant organizations and employers have universally cut wages by ten or more percent. . . You must understand, this is very bad.”

She had not heard of this yet she could not risk looking ill informed and so she took a carefully neutral tone. “It is the beginning of the slow season, mister Scalor. These things happen before the sacrifice festivals.”

“My Lady, timber cutting and foundational diggers haven't any seasonal issues and yet they're also being docked wages as well. It's a sign of collaboration!”

“Now, mister Scalor. . .”

“May I?” Richard said softly.

The wolf glanced at him, sized him up and then looked to Tamira expectantly. It was fairly clear he had not expected the human to have a say in things.

“Go ahead.”

“If what you're saying is true, mister Scalor, and I-- for one-- have some doubts, then your issue is with the merchants and not Lady Diqune.”

He said nothing.

“Am I wrong, my Lady?”

“Things work differently here, mister Richard. . . Now, mister Scalor. I understand your concerns and I will investigate the matter, but I ask you to be patient while we do so. You know my family has always sided with the Common citizen but never at the cost of the whole. . . I say this because if wages are being artificially reduced, then we have a problem but I cannot make a snap decision with nothing more than a complaint from one side of the argument or the other.”

“I understand, my Lady.”

“Good. Now, for the immediate future, I suggest you continue working and seek out those merchant groups that are considered union friendly. The Bason family has a long history of supporting jewelers--”

“My Lady, I do not wish to offend, but it is not employment we seek, only to be paid fairly.”

“I understand that. My suggestion would be to find those who will do so while I address this grievance.”

Someone behind Scalor whispered to her companion. “Waste of time, I told you.”

Tamira slid the papers back across the table and looked the wolf in the eyes. “I will do my best as the Diqune family always has. Give me two days and send a messenger, you will hear from me by then.

“Thank you, my Lady,” he collected his paperwork and bowed his head before heading out the door followed by his contingent.

She pursed her lips while leaning against the table unconscious of Richard's gaze until she caught him. She pushed off, stepped over to her writing desk and began penning a letter. “I need you to take this to the tax collector. Look for any record of delinquent taxes and those merchants which have more than ten employees.” She handed him the edict. “We are not allowed to interfere with merchants who's taxes are current but we will have leverage over delinquents.”

“Of course, my Lady. I understand.”

It was time to get to the heart of this matter. To 'nip it in the bud' as her father would have said.

#

Tamira awoke with a start when the carriage bounced into a hole, jostling her against Richard's shoulder. She jerked away quickly, looking at him with a sudden realization that she had been drooling in her sleep. He had the good grace to not only say nothing but act as though nothing had happened at all. He simply watched the docks district roll by at a lazy pace as the cart pullers guided it through the busy street.

“My apologies,” Tamira whispered. “I am more tired than I realized.”

“Think nothing of it. May I say, you're very beautiful in your sleep.”

“Salivation not withstanding?”

He smirked a bit. “Should you ever need my shoulder again, it's there.”

“Mmh. . .” she rubbed her eyes. “Forgive me, it has been an incredibly long time since I have had the services of an aide. I have become accustomed to a certain amount of. . .”

“Freedom?”

“Comfort. I will endeavor to be more--”

“Don't. Please.” He smiled at her confused look. “I would much rather know the soul under the public facade.”

“I do not recall that being part of the employment description, mister Richard, furthermore, I am a noble and not some. . .”

Richard removed a napkin from the pocket of his frock and offered it to her with a wry grin.

She frowned and took it, muttering a polite thank you as they pulled up to the Miller's Shipping and Receiving company in the heart of the docks. Tamira smoothed her fur down and swept her hair behind her ears in a practical arrangement. “How do I--”

“More beautiful with each passing day.” The man popped the door open and stepped out of the way for her to pass.

“Hmph, we really do need to work on your tactum.”

The salty air stung her nose a bit as they started up the ramp to the run down single story building. Tamira's fur prickled on the back of her neck. She was exposed. Everywhere around her furs and humans went about their work moving cargo, there were no soldiers to protect her if things went badly-- why had she not thought this through?

She took a deep breath.

Something touched her lower back and she jumped.

It was Richard, his eyes glancing around for any threats. “I suggest we move, my Lady.”

Tamira allowed herself to be ushered into the tiny office where a bored looking badger looked up from his crossword puzzle. He gave her a quick once over and, decision made, put on a polite smile. “Help you, miss?” When Richard stepped beside her the male's expression twisted slightly. “Sorry, we don't ship slaves. City laws, you see. But if you're lookin' for a few low cost servants, I can give you some names.”

She glanced at Richard. He looked at her.

“No, I'm content with the servant I have. . .” She looked to the badger, producing her parchment. “I have a request for records of tax collection and your employment list for the past tenday. Might I see them?”

“Heh! You're right funny, miss--” he scanned the document. “That's pretty good! That even looks like the Duchess's signature!”

“It should, I signed it.”

He looked up, squinted. “O-- Oh, oh dear.”

“So, about those records?”

He fidgeted a little. “Ah, yes. . . R- right this way!” He hopped off his stool and lead them back to an unmarked room filled with crates of cracked and yellowed parchment. From the stacks he produced a hand full of documents and thrust them at her. “Begging your pardon, my Lady, but business has been slow of late! H-- we've not had shipments from Heperon in over a month, nothing's coming in or going out! Hard to make a living much less pay taxes!”

Tamira nodded along quietly as she flipped through the paperwork, only half listening. She stopped when she saw the payouts for labor. He was paying normal union taxes but his wage payouts had a sharp decline over the space of three days at the end of one week and stayed at the lower level through the following week. “What's this about?”

“Ah? Oh, yes. . . That. . .” He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I had a hard time making payment, my Lady. . .”

“And if I were to go through the rest of these records, would I find such drastic fluctuation?”

“Ah. . .”

Tamira kept her voice pleasant, “I warn you, I am prepared to find out.”

“Well. . . erm.”

Richard peeked at the documents, “go on. You stand in the presence of nobility, it's only polite to speak the truth, don't you think?”

“Heh. Nice, did they teach you that in the fields?” the badger focused his beady eyes on Tamira. “My Lady, you will have to forgive me, I can't divulge trade secrets!”

“Then you will have to forgive me as I shut down your business and ask you to leave.”

“It's not like there's anything here to shut down, with the trading route out of commission--”

“There is also the matter of back taxes, interest and violating city laws. . . With the amount of money you have accrued in owed taxes, I suspect it will take some time to work it off.”

“I-- ah-- well, when you put it that way. . . Only be right to help! I love ta help, I do! There's a group from Lumax who're offering, uh, incentives to cut costs. Wages are the easiest to cut so they're the first to go! Yes, you see? Just normal business!

Richard furrowed his brow. “What kind of incentives?”

When it didn't look like he was going to reply Tamira motioned to him. “Go on.”

“You know, stuff like star iron. A whole brick in pure form to cut costs by 40 percent or more for ten months.”

“Ten. . . months? Why?”

“Beats me. All I know is that iron's gonna do a lot of good to help me and my family.”

“I see. . .” Tamira glanced at Richard, musing. “I wonder why.”

"	Thank you very much for downloading this piece of my fiction, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you would like to check out some of my other works, including those set in this world and others, you can find them at http://johnenright.info

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