Slaves and Doppelgangers

Punch, Notch, Cirith, Darkfur, Rona [Gage], Wormwood [Punch]

A slaver returns to the island with captives. King Darkfur believes that impostors have infiltrated his court.

Punch seems to wear the weight of a day's activities over his shoulders. He slumps, slightly, as his paws find purchase on the smooth, clean stones of the inner courtyard. To the armed guards flanking the entrance, he barely offers any acknowledgment. The sun is well on its transit toward the western horizon, though high enough to be visible over the walls of the courtyard. The sky is blushed a rosy hue, auguring calm seas tomorrow--and another day without an excuse to stay indoors.

Notch wipes his brow, shadowing Punch from a distance, "Bloody heat, " He mutters.

Still walking at a slow pace toward the keep, Punch turns to Notch. "And j-j-just what business does a you-young t-tyke have, l-lamenting the heat," he asks, incredulous.

"Its bloody hot ya ol' fart, and don't'cha go saying I can't do anything what's I want!" He sticks out his tongue briefly in difiance.

Punch hastily stops and bows to the much shorter rat, an inward-sweeping paw pulling his cloak against his abdomen as he does. "Y-yes, f-forgive me," he says rather too drily. "Th-the heat has taken a t-toll on my manners, you-you understand."

Cirith comes through the gates with ten slave beasts in tow. She stops to call one of the guards over to have a few words with him, and the gruad gose to the back of the group and they start moving again.

Darkfur is coming out of the keep to meet them, two scantily-clad ratmaids trying desperately to keep up with his strenuous pace, fanning the rat emperor either side whilst watching their footing on the stones, "Ah! Speaking of manners. Ehem." The emperor adjusts the plethora of jewel necklaces and charms about his neck with great attention to detail, fixing the placement of them as though the inset stones held some cartographic significance. "Ah, there she is. Excuse me, my good advisor, and... yes." He nods at Notch, keeping a wary eye on him in passing. "Cirith!"

"Dat's alright, ya don't know no better eh?" Notch shuffles past the older rat, already turning his easily excitable attention span to something new as he eyes the new slaves.

If Punch recognizes Cirith, his expression does not betray it. He simply eyes first her, the column of slaves in her wake, and then--abruptly--the king. (The ratmaids have become scenery, due not even the consideration of a glance.) The infallibly obsequious builder snaps into a bow, deeper than the one owed Notch, and crabs awkwardly backward off the path. "Your Majesty was exp-expecting company?" he inquires, looking at the ground.

Cirith stops and bows "my lord, I have haff a score of wood-lander slaves here"

Notch mutters "Father" before retreating a bit from the rat kings sight. Watching curiously Cirith and the new slaves.

Hoping to remain mostly unnoticed, Rona, Gage's vulpine second-in-command, slips into the inner courtyard, glancing around. She looks fairly underwelmed with the fortress, but it's hard to shock or impress a beast such as herself. She leans back against the stone walls, trying to keep out of sight and avoid showing any difference to the poor excuse for an emperor. The column of woodland slaves, however, interests her, and draws her keen violet eyes.

As the slaver enunciates the word "woodlanders", Punch's head rises. "Woodlanders!" he repeats, trying to keep his voice low, but putting rather too much of a scoff into it to do so. Remembering his place, he turtles his head back into its deferential bow and snaps his stuttering mouth shut.

The emperor nods, and there is a moment or two of awkward silence, fans beating all the while; one is fanning too close as the maid at the other end of it struggles in the throes of a pre-sneeze. Darkfur, bats the fan down with a paw, not looking, shooing both of them away then as he approaches Cirith, "Only half? We were expecting more? Weren't we? Where is my record-keeper?!" He shouts in Punch's direction, "Can you please go and find him?? So..." He turns to her again, "De oppresso liber, eh? Heh... it's just as well where they have come from that they should be here instead, being productive. Were there any troubles?"

Punch stands to attention, still avoiding eye contact. "Y-yes, y-y-your Majesty. I shall fetch him a-at once." He scampers off toward the keep.

Cirith says, "there ware 13, but three of them tride to escape, and they did not make it far before they were killed by the guards you send with me..."

Across the courtyard, Rona's mouth forms a tight line as she hears the conversation. She may be a vermin, but she's not overly fond of slavers. Her paw tightens around the axe at her belt, though she knows doing anything stupid here would cost her her life. Or worse, put her in chains with the lot of woodlanders.

Cirith says, "there was no trouble after that, my Lord"

"Hm. Then we will have to re-train the company that found itself with you, I suppose. Better to leave them to have slave offspring or be taken another day, than useless to all but flies..." The emperor swivels on a heel and paces off at a diagonal, looking toward the keep impatiently and running a paw through his chin, before looking back at Notch, "Ah, there is another of them..." He motions the guards to assemble around the young rat, "One seems to have escaped notice and is running about. Guards, see him back to the others..." There is something odd in the stare that Darkfur gives the other rat, flinching lightly as he seems to bat away the long-since retired fanbeasts again.

The guards, meanwhile, are slightly hesitant, although they do form tightly around the rat. The one in charge looks back over a shoulder and salutes to the emperor, "Sire! Um... did you mean Notch, sire?"

Notch glares at his old man, "I ain't no bloody slave, ya all know who I am!" He glares at the guards too, "I dare ya!"

Cirith asks, "um, my Lord, isint that your son?"

Darkfur nods, "No, I mean that rat. Right /there/. Do you figure me for giving a care in the world as to what might be his name? Notch is dead; take this impudent imposter out of my sight and to the holdings of the other slaves. His foolishness offends the royal family.." He turns back to Cirith, "How dare you! To bring back a mouse that closely resembles my deceased born! Let him wander free, perhaps?? Cause confusion! And then make a fool of me! Stow your tongue, lest I seize the guards upon you... recorder!!!!" He paces more urgently.

Cirith says, "b- yes Lord"

This draws a raised eyebrow from Rona, who calmly steps forwards, just a little, still hoping to stay out of the conversation, but wanting a better vantage point than her old spot all the way across the courtyard. This only reinforces her suspicion that the monarch is quite insane.

"Any of you guards lay a finger on me and I tell ya I wont forget!" Notch responds angrily, "Father, ya ain't fooling anyone with this horrible joke."

A rat as wide as he is tall, with an unwieldy tail that lashes him as he moves, comes huffing down the path, a large volume clutched to his panting chest. He gives one of the ratmaids a lascivious look before proceeding toward the king. Wormwood's glasses seem almost embedded in his bulbous head. They sparkle with beads of sweat. The recorder holds back while the drama unfolds.

Blink. Blink. Darkfur waves a paw, "Carry through with it already, I order you; back with him to his bondings! Now!" Peeling his eyes from the guards only upon spotting Wormwood, the emperor motions him forward, "Yes, yes, FINALLY! We were expecting two-score slaves. Yes, I know you have this written down; we were expecting two-score slaves, and those not in their proper keepings are running about, and must be found. There is one that looks like my queen; also, one that looks like my advisor, whatshisname... make sure they are found - they are both dead, so no worries about apprehending the wrong beast... yes... record this!"

Wormwood stands frozen, utterly frozen, for several seconds, his breathing slowed, his ears pricked forward, his eyes earnest behind the slightly foggy spectacles. But he makes no move to write it down. His jaw begins moving, feeling for words. "Your Majesty?" he finally says. He opens the book deliberately and takes a quill and sealed inkwell from a pocket in his coat.

"Don't 'your Majesty' me - you are to take down the orders, for purposes of verifying that I have made them, and the date as well, the date that Her Highness the Queen and my poor heir to the throne were killed. Today's date..." He leans over Wormwood to watch that he writes everything down, and points to Notch, keeping one paw on the recorder's shoulder, "You!! You you, unwitting fool; did you think you could put up such a pitifully lame attempt and not go unpunished?! You I think I'll save for the arena; we'll have the lizards tear at your flesh whilst chained to the center... such a public display of impudence as yours must not go unreciprocated!"

With eyes wide Cirith says, "um, I-" than she remembers what Darkfur had said.

Its best to let these things with his father run its course and after its become clear that it isn't a joke the young prince has decided its best to let things run its course with him not around. So while attention is elsewhere he quietly slips away and runs and goes to ground like a proper rat.

The recorder's fur was already damp with sweat, but the hovering monarch brings an extra sheen of perspiration to his brow. But Wormwood's paw his steady. He scrawls the date in a clear hand so that Darkfur can read it, notes Cirith's return and the composition of her haul of slaves. Then he stops and looks up. "I was not aware that Queen Dangeon had been killed. That is most troubling news. And I saw her not two hours past. When did Your Majesty receive word?"

Darkfur files out from behind Wormwood and approaches Cirith, "Please, if you will also participate in the search... I need the remainder of the slaves that have escaped us - as you had said, the guards were trying to kill them, so you must take great care this does not happen again." The emperor turns back to the recorder, shaking his head, "No, no, don't you see... the beast you spoke to was a slave... she has been gone since this morning.." He goes back over to the book and slams a finger down near the date, "No! No, this is not right. The /correct/ date, /today's/ date. This is the /eleventh/ season of my reign."

The hapless Wormwood nearly loses his grasp on the volume under the king's blow. The inkwell, however, tumbles from his fingers and falls to the ground, where it shatters. "Yes, yes, of course," he says numbly. With the ink remaining on the nib, he makes the, er, "correction".

Rona, having not spoken a single syllable since her arrival, sees the king advance and falls back to her position leaning against the stone wall, really not envying a prison cell to sleep in tonight.

Cirith says, "yes, my lord" she then turns to the guard at the back of the slave group "see to it that these slaves get to the dungeons!"

As the guard and the slaves march away, Cirith turns to Wormwood "ware did you last see this 'slave'?"

Wormwood blinks dully. "I..." He quickly eyes Darkfur. "I saw her last in the Keep, of course. In the hall, bound for the Knothill, from what she told me, to take a drink." He takes a step back to avoid the spreading puddle of spilt ink. "I feel compelled to add," he closes the volume and presses it against his chest, "that it was a most... persuasive impression. Even had the--" he raises a paw to pinch his ear, representing the scar on the queen's ear. "Dressed and spoke like her, too."

Cirith sighs "hm...well, this slave will not escape"