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“Damn it all!”

Everett pounded his large fist against the table with a resounding thud, startling his compatriots as they all huddled around a loose stack of papers scattered about before them. Their only candle – by now nearly burned down to a stump – flickered and blinked out, enshrouding them all in darkness.

“Oy, we got a problem here?” A gruff female voice called out from the direction of the bar. “If you lot can’t behave, I’m kickin’ you out. Good luck findin’ another meeting’ place.”

The creaking of the aged floorboards, growing louder and louder with each plodding footstep, sent a shiver down Everett’s spine. He was sure to get it now. No matter how much authority he might command outside of these walls, the tavern was Winfred’s domain, and her rule was strict and absolute.

Trepidatiously, the reindeer turned his head to see his longtime friend’s scowling face mere inches away from his. The small, glass-walled lantern in her paw was only bright enough to illuminate her face, giving her a distinctly spectral appearance. “If you break my table, Everett Aspden, so help me God I will skin you alive and hang your sorry pelt on the front door.”

“Apologies, Winny.” He bowed his head in contrition, taking care not to bump the badger with his antlers. “We’ve gone round and round but we simply cannot come to an agreement as to how to handle this whole situation with Lord Orrick.”

“That doddering old fool?” She scoffed as she used a thin rod to transfer the flame from the lantern to the candle stub in the middle of the table. “Wouldn’t have expected that a half-senile codger like him would cause the notorious Iron Shield such woe. Perhaps you all should hang it up?”

Everett felt the beginnings of a growl rumbling in his chest. She was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, and it was working. Before he could throw it back in her face, though, the small ferret seated beside him suddenly cleared his throat loudly. Sparing the reindeer a warning glance, he said, “Now, Mrs. Kerridge, you know that it’s the son and not the father who’s making trouble. Edmund is ambitious, cunning, and depraved in equal measure, and we’d be wise not to draw needless attention to ourselves by running afoul of him. At the same time–”

“At the same time,” Everett interrupted through gritted teeth, “he cannot get his filthy paws on that shipment. It’s due to arrive in less than a week and we’re no closer to coming up with a plan to pilfer it without arousing suspicion.”

Winfred raised an eyebrow. “The Orricks are one of the biggest traders in the city and they must get dozens of shipments every day. You’ve never paid them much mind before. What’s so important about this one that has you targetin’ them now?”

“Guns,” he muttered. “They’re bringing guns into Gildenshire.”

“W-what?” The badger staggered backwards, mouth agape. Her paw began to tremble, and for a moment it looked as though she was about to drop the lantern.

Everett didn’t blame her; they had all been similarly horrified when their man on the inside had reported on what he’d overheard. In all his time keeping his eye on the flow of goods in and out of Gildenshire, he had never come across firearms. They were strictly forbidden inside the city under penalty of death; even the duke’s personal guard weren’t so armed.

This shipment contained hundreds.

In his mind, there were three possibilities. First, King Archibald was using the Orricks as a conduit to procure guns to aid in his goal to establish footholds in the New World. That would make them a more trusted and powerful family than Everett had been led to believe, which was mildly disconcerting. However, while he thought that whole venture foolhardy and detestable (the limited information coming back from the colonies was stomach-turning), if rifles were going across the sea they could pose no threat to the resistance.

Second, he intended for them to stay within Anglica, in which case Everett figured that these particular guns would be for the battalions stationed here in Gildenshire. Perhaps the madman was preparing for yet another war with Ibernia – as if the one scarcely a decade ago hadn’t been bad enough – but he’d not come across a single piece of intel supporting that idea.

No, he very much doubted the king intended to disturb the wary peace. Even he wasn’t that stupid. What might concern him enough to spend an inconceivable sum on firearms, though, was the unrest throughout the territory that continued to grow day by day. The unrest that they had been slowly, gently, carefully fomenting over the last two years. It was a more aggressive move than he had expected from the crown, but there were countermeasures already in place for something like this. Precarious, sure, but survivable.

It was the third and least likely that had him truly worried, though: that the Orricks, perhaps in collaboration with the duke, were secretly amassing an army to challenge the crown for control of the whole country. A bloody coup, successful or not, would throw everything into chaos. A bad sort of chaos, the kind he couldn’t guide and direct. The possible contingencies were limitless and there would be no way to adequately plan for them all.

If there was one thing Everett hated most, it was a situation where he couldn’t chart everything out.

Of course, none of that would come to pass if the Orricks just so happened to ‘misplace’ the guns in the first place. And if they subsequently showed up in the paws of militias of angry commoners in the counties bordering Gildenshire…well, that might be ‘problematic’ for the crown. Dire, even. They could strike hard and fast from a half dozen fronts all at once with minimal losses, then set their sights on the city itself.

Most importantly, if they demonstrated that they could oppose the tyranny of the royal family and emerge victorious, that could be the spark that finally stokes revolutionary sentiment to the tipping point. It was an opportunity too tempting to pass up.

The current dilemma – the one that had kept them bickering into the wee hours of the morning – was coming up with a way to intercept the shipment that wouldn’t in some way blow back on them. Seizing the goods was challenging enough, but if it drew attention to the Shield, the resulting crackdown would doubtless have negative consequences, not just for them but for the very people they’re trying to protect.

“Hm… mayhaps this ain’t all bad,” the badger woman muttered, snapping Everett out of his ruminating. “If we could jus’ from underneath their noses… Lord knows we ain’t got the means to get guns ourselves.”

“Precisely,” a rugged-looking gray wolf said, looking up at Winfred with piercing yellow eyes from across the table. “Even sabotage, appropriately executed, would be of tremendous value.”

Everett snorted at him. “That’s a last resort only, Franz. We’ve gone over this, haven’t we? There’s just as much risk involved and it has as many ways of being harmful to us as useful.”

Franz merely leveled a glare in his direction, which he was all too happy to mirror. The wolf was stubborn to a fault, quick to anger, unwilling to fall in line or compromise… but a sheer force of nature in combat and fiercely devoted to the Shield. Everett figured it was their similarity that had them butting heads more often than not, honestly.

He couldn’t have asked for a better second, frustrating though he often was to deal with.

With neither of them backing down – the reindeer could do this all night – Winfred grunted loudly. “You’re not children so quit actin’ like it, you two. Back to the matter at hand: do you even have a plan?”

“Of course we do,” Everett replied tersely. “That much we have settled. We know when and where the guns are due to arrive, but we won’t know which crates they’re in. There’s no way to go through them all while they’re at the dock. But, if we make sure that members of the Shield are driving the carts transporting them from there to the Orricks’ warehouse across town, we’ll have ample time to find and confiscate the guns.

“What we’ve been trying to figure out now is how to ensure that they don’t suspect that the theft was carried out by us. We all have different opinions, and if I’m honest, I’m not sure any of them are all that good. Some of us” – he noses in Franz’s direction – “don’t even think it matters all that much once we have the guns in our possession.”

He lets out a deep, frustrated sigh. Setting this up would take careful preparations and they were running out of time.

“That’s what’s keepin’ me up all night?” Winfred slaps her forehead. “God, sometimes I wonder if you’ve got anything between your ears at all.”

Likely sensing that the reindeer was about to explode, Diego replied gently, “You have an idea? Please, share.”

She nodded, a smug grin starting to overtake her face. “The noble families are constantly gettin’ in pissing contests with each other, no? All you have to do is make it look like one of them took it.”

The long silence that followed felt damning to Everett. It was so simple that it was both shocking and shameful that none of them had thought of it. Well, that was why they had these meetings, after all; the sharing and discussing of ideas as equals always resulted in plans that were better than any of them could come up with on their own.

The reindeer was already solidifying the specifics in his head. He simply had to decide on a family whose power and influence were waning and therefore plausible that they might be desperate enough to attempt something as rash as this. It scarcely took him a minute to come up with a target.

“Alonso,” he glanced at the albino ferret seated next to his brother, “you could forge a note in Lord Tartakovsky’s hand if you had some samples, no? Perhaps even put his official seal on it as well. We might not have been able to recover a piece of hard evidence, but we could easily plant an incriminating note or ledger to close the loop.” Everett smirked. “Should be child’s play for a man of your talents.”

He nodded slightly, face impassive. “Consider it done, Commander. But I have two concerns.”

“Yes?”

“Would it not be suspicious for there to be such damning physical evidence? Who would be so foolish as to sign and seal a missive ordering a theft of this magnitude?” He paused. “Maybe we should consider asking Vincent when he gets here – he may have some insights.”

“If Vincent wanted to provide his insights, he’d be here right now,” Everett grumbled. “Besides, if I’m confident in anything, it’s that the Tartakovsky’s are indeed that foolish. If they were canny enough to pull an operation like this off without bungling it, they wouldn’t be in a position where such an operation would be necessary for them to cling to their scant relevance in the court. Of course” – he chuckled – “you had as much to do with that as anyone else.”

The white-furred ferret flushed slightly as the comment landed exactly as Everett intended. His recent heist had made them the laughtstock of the nobility for weeks, to say nothing of the sheer value of the treasure he’d stolen. They had put it all to good use, of course, with plenty to spare.

That Alonso was so self-conscious about his ‘occupation’ never ceased to amuse the reindeer. Under his prior alias of ‘Ghost,’ he’d been the most formidable thief the city had ever seen. He would have thought that someone so skilled would take a modicum of pride in his work.

Coughing in embarrassment, the ferret continued, “Second, the directive would have to be placed on our man’s person, correct? To make sure the Orricks knew who was responsible? I’m assuming that we’d have to plant someone to… divert the wagon carrying the guns to a location favorable to us.”

“… yes.”

He hesitated to reply because it was now clear to him where Alonso’s true objections lay, and he didn’t like it. The ferret went on to explain anyway, though: “Is that not too much risk for the driver, and us once he’s captured? Edmund Orrick is a bastard. They’ll torture him for information, and then they’ll kill him as painfully as possible. No man should have to be put through that… ” Alonso trailed off, prompting Diego to place a reassuring paw on his shoulder.

It was a sensitive subject, one that had to be handled delicately. Of everyone, Alonso’s role in this was the most critical; without him, the operation would be doomed to fail before it began. At the same time, of the five of them, the ferret was the only one who knew the horrors of being held captive in one of the nobles’ dungeons. He barely survived the ordeal even after Diego managed to break him out.

“I promise you we will try to free him at the soonest opportunity,” Everett responded, as gently as his gruff voice could get. “And you well know that we all put our lives on the line for the cause. We will only take a man who’s willing to volunteer and has the fortitude and devotion to go to his death without compromising us, should the worst come to pass. If he has family, I will see to it personally that they are taken care of for the rest of their lives.

“Of course, should any of you have a better plan, I’m open to suggestions. But in my mind this puts the fewest of us in harm’s way.”

The reindeer glanced around the table expectantly, but none piped up. Even Franz, who always seemed to have a counter to whatever he proposed, simply leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

He nodded. “We’re in agreement, then. I’ll leave the specifics of infiltrating the Tartakowsky compound to you, Alonso. I’ll handle the personnel side of things - I have a few candidates in mind already anyway. And Winny?” He fondly clasped his calloused paw around hers and smiled up at her. “Thank you, for everything. Never doubt how much we value you. How much I value you.”

For the briefest of moments, he saw the badger’s eyes begin to soften and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but the scowl returned just as quickly. Yanking her paw out from under his, she scoffed loudly. “You’re a lout, Everett Aspden. Why I’ve put up with you all these years, I’ll never know.”

She gestured around the table. “If there’s nothin’ else, clear out, you vagabonds. It’s long past the time for me to sleep and I don’t trust my good booze will be here in the morning if I’m not here to watch over you.”

Smirking inwardly, the reindeer stood up. “Yes, that’s enough for tonight. I hereby declare this meeting adjour–”

Just then, the double doors of the tavern swung open and slammed against the walls with a bang as a stout, garishly dressed red fox sauntered in, clearly unbothered that he’d just missed this fairly important meeting. His confident grin flickered as he locked eyes with Everett, who was glaring at him more fiercely than he had at anyone throughout the whole contentious evening, but only momentarily.

“Oy!” Winfred shouted, hackles raised. “Don’t you dare enter my place like that, Ware.”

That wiped the jovial expression from his face in an instant, and as irritated as Everett was with him, he couldn’t help but pity him. Sure, Winfred had threatened to decorate the outside of the tavern with his hide a few minutes ago, but there was a venom in her tone that made him consider that she might actually do the fox bodily harm.

He didn’t begrudge her that, though, and not just because the victim would be Vincent Ware. No one knew more than him how sacred Winfred’s temple was to her, down to the last tap and floorboard.

“Winfred, my dear, I am so very sorry for disturbing your establishment in such a manner.” The fox took off his capotain and gave her a gallant bow. Then, to Everett and the others: “And to you all, I sincerely regret showing up at this late hour. There were some…difficult business negotiations with the cooper’s guild that lasted hours longer than either side anticipated. All resolved now, however!” The cheery smile returned as though it had never left.

The relief any of them felt from coming to a decision about the mission was gone, now, and despite the fox’s elaborate apology (or perhaps because of it), the hostility in the room only seemed to grow in the silence that followed. Everett knew it was up to him to lessen it, loath though he was to be any more gracious to this fop than Winfred had been. Getting up out of his seat, the reindeer approached the fox with his arms outstretched, then welcomed him with a hearty clap on the back.

“No mind, Vincent. Thank you for coming. Our own business for the evening has concluded and Winfred would like to close up the tavern now, but I’d be happy to arrange a private meeting to debrief you. It needn’t concern you much, in any case.”

He strained his lips to match the fox’s smile. It was worth it to remain amiable despite his own irritation. The fox might not have been a noble, but as one of Gildenshire’s most prominent merchants, the niche he filled within the organization was unique and they’d be hard pressed to replace him should he choose to step away.

Fortunately, it was true that Vincent would have had little useful input to give on a gun heist, Tartakovsky’s or no Tartakovsky’s. If the issue du jour had revolved around labor disagreements or the logistics of funneling goods in and out of the city using the fox’s labyrinthine network of contacts, that would have been another matter entirely.

“I would greatly appreciate that, my friend.” Vincent beamed up at the reindeer (he stood a full foot shorter than Everett), then let out a cough. “If it’s not too much trouble, I have a bit of business with the Shield that I would like to address with you all. It won’t take but a few minutes of your time.”

It was only then that Everett noticed the second fox in the room.

“As you all know, my interests have only continued to expand in recent years. I can’t complain, of course, can’t complain.” Vincent adopted an expression of humility, not that it suited his face well. “In any case, it has become quite taxing to manage everything by myself. Therefore, I have decided it is high time for my son to begin to take a more active role in managing my affairs.”

The fox snapped his head behind him to address the other. “Boy, stop cowering and introduce yourself to these fine folk!”

Cautiously, the son crept out from behind Vincent’s shadow to stand alongside his father. He opened his mouth to speak, but Franz suddenly jumping to his feet startled him into silence. Growling, the wolf snapped, “What’s the meaning of this, Ware? Did you clear this with any of us before you decided to disclose your position to an outsider? Are you completely off in the head?” He pointed at the other fox. “He has no business here whatsoever until all of us agree to make his business ours.”

Everett glanced around the room. Alonso’s eyes were narrowed skeptically while Diego’s were wide in surprise, but neither made a move to get up or say anything. Winfred was glowering, though no more than usual. Franz, however, was beginning to show his teeth as the fur on the back of his neck stood on end. If he didn’t step in now, this situation would quickly spiral out of control.

“At ease, Franz,” he said calmly, gesturing for the wolf to retake his seat.

“Everett, this cannot stand.”

“That the order was revealed without our permission is a grave offense, it’s true.” The reindeer shot Vincent a withering glare, who lowered his ears in what he thought might be a rare sign of genuine contrition. “However, what’s done is done. The boy is here now and already knows too much to remain uninvolved. I suggest we extend him a narrow opportunity to prove his value.”

The wolf stared daggers at Everett, hackles still raised, but the reindeer stood his ground. After a few tense moments, Franz stiffly sat down again and looked down at the table. No one else raised any objections.

Sighing inwardly, he turned his attention back to the younger fox. “Well, here is your chance to convince us that your father erred only in making the unilateral decision to include you in Shield business and not in his estimation that you are indeed worthy of inclusion.”

At first, Everett thought that the fox might shrink behind Vincent again, but to his credit, he instead took a step forward. Standing fully upright – despite the fact that Everett hadn’t noticed him at first, he was actually a few inches taller than his sire – he gave a polite nod to each of the Shield leaders sitting around the table. “Sirs,” he said in a soft but unwavering voice, then turned to Winfred and bowed. “Milady.”

He cleared his throat, then stared straight at Everett. “My name is Rayleigh Ware, son of Vincent and Margaret. I deeply regret that I am introducing myself to you all under such circumstances. I hold you in the highest possible regard, and it was not my intention to compel a decision concerning my membership in the Iron Shield thusly. I have quietly admired your work from afar and it is my sincere wish to contribute in whatever manner you may find me useful.

“Despite my twenty-four years, I have assisted my father in all matters of accountancy, commerce, and negotiation since I came of age. While my experience does not nearly rival his, I am confident that I can serve your purposes in nearly equal capacity. I may not be able to wield a sword or command a battalion, but I will ensure that in all manners of business the Iron Shield will operate seamlessly.”

The fox’s bravado wavered momentarily as his gaze turned down towards the floor. “A-actually, I bear the blame for the unfortunate situation you have been placed in. Over the past few months, I have noticed the slightest irregularities in my father’s books. Nothing so egregious as to arouse outside suspicion, of course! It’s merely that I monitor our family’s accounts down to the last penny.”

He let out an awkward cough. “Curious, I was able to trace the transactions to areas of supposed Iron Shield activity. Once I had obtained what, in my humble opinion, was incontrovertible evidence, I presented it to my father, who had no choice but to then admit my deductions were correct.”

‘Humble, my ass,’ Everett thought. That was an incredibly bold move, and it was just as bold to openly contradict his father’s stated reason for bringing him here. Maybe it was true that Vincent was looking to the future of his enterprise, but if Rayleigh was to be believed, that was not the main reason. The admonishment he expected never came, however - instead, the elder fox looked oddly proud as he nodded along to his son’s every word.

“In any case, I promise to you all that he revealed nothing of the Iron Shield with the exception that he was a member, nor did I probe for further information out of respect for your secrecy. I implore you not to include me merely because I have become aware of your affairs. I solemnly vow that, under pain of death, I will not reveal what little I do know whether I am a member or not. Instead, please consider my inclusion in your order because I fiercely believe in your cause and am confident that I can be of great value if given the chance.

“I leave my fate entirely in your hands and will accept whatever judgment you in your wisdom deem fit to pass. I am honored to be in your presence and grateful for the opportunity to present myself to you despite the lamentable circumstances of our first meeting.” He bowed, then took a step back to stand beside his father once again.

Everett glanced around the room to gauge his comrades’ reactions. Unsurprisingly, all were wide-eyed and slack-jawed as they stared at the young fox. Even the notoriously unflappable Franz and Winfred were seemingly tongue-tied.

He too hesitated to respond, but not just because he was similarly taken aback. He was too distracted by Rayleigh’s appearance, which he only now took the opportunity to examine closely. Like his father, he was as fashionably dressed as any noble, but they suited his trim frame far better than his father’s. From ear tip to toe claw the fox was immaculately groomed, not a whisker or strand of fur out of place.

And that fur. Like burnished copper, it shone in the dim candlelight, but its hue was closer to crimson than the more typical red-orange of most of his kin. It beautifully complemented the snow white of his cheeks, neck, and tail tip.

Most distracting of all, however, was the image of the fox’s slim, perfect body laid bare before him, all that needless finery stripped off, a sultry smile on his muzzle as he beckoned Everett closer. He could imagine the taste of his lips, his fur.

His swollen cock in his mouth…

Snapping to attention and feeling the youth’s gaze upon him as he waited for an answer, the reindeer allowed their eyes to meet. Slate-gray like his father’s – such a stark contrast with his deep red fur – they glimmered with a fire that would not be quenched. In him he saw a ferocity belying his slight build and carefully manicured looks, a ferocity unmatched even by the chosen few in his inner circle gathered around the table tonight.

A ferocity just like…

At that moment, he knew that Rayleigh would play a significant part in shaping the Shield’s future. At that moment, he knew that he would play a significant part in shaping his future.

At that moment, he knew that this fox posed a huge problem.