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It's the new series by your long-lost author! I think you'll see where this one's going pretty quickly, but it'll take a while to get there. I spent a lot of time (textually, not just IRL) developing this idea since I started it a little over two years ago, and I'm rather proud of that, it's come out... well, you'll see. Expect new chapters every 2 weeks on Saturdays for the next couple months. These will all be marked adult, just FYI, because of the character of some of the content, but there won't be any actual sexual contact for some time yet. Lots of good shit if you're into the specific kinks involved, though.

For clarity, the two species involved here are the lepuline, a glorified cabbit species, and the hydrans, an eastern-flavored dragon species, both somewhat more "75% animal 25% anthropomorphized" than 50/50 in my head (but feel free to visualize in the manner you prefer). I was gonna doodle them just so people could picture them better, but meh, maybe later.

---

"This is most unusual," I protested, rather weakly. "Certainly not the reception I was expecting. I don't believe any imperial ambassador has ever been treated in such a way."

"Perhaps not," Captain Morcef purred, holding my arms behind me as my jacket slid off them and the cold air met my bare green scales. "But it is our custom, one you ought have acquainted yourself with prior to this unprecedented posting. It would certainly reflect ill on the Empire, were its first ambassador so unprepared, would it not?" The guards were on average half a foot shorter than me, but did not seem in the least intimidated; the way they muscled me about implied experience handling individuals larger than themselves.

"Be that as it may, Captain," I slithered, with many a humiliated chuckle. "Is all the, ah, this, really necessary?"

The hulking brown lepuline fitted handcuffs around my wrists with a painful jerk, while another guard lumbered around me, pointy spear in my face. He gripped my trousers by the waist, and pulled downward.

"I had really hoped for a greater degree of mutual trust and respect!" I yelped.

In truth, I couldn't pretend I hadn't had some inkling of what was coming. The Kletholt Federation had been without an Imperial ambassador since its inception, and indeed, no ambassador had been stationed in this region of the world for the past two centuries. Some degree of historic animosity lay the plumbing for my current assignment, but at least in the street pamphlets, my appointment had been played off as a warming of relations.

My fears had waxed and waned on the sea voyage. Court favor hadn't exactly been blowing my way in the preceding years. My previous posting had been, to put it mildly, a disaster. The Emperor was displeased, in a personal way. I hadn't even gotten the courtesy of an audience prior to my departure. Still, surely they wouldn't entrust such an important, pioneering diplomatic mission to me, unless they were certain I was a good fit for it! The Federation had grown to be one of the most important players in international trade; both our nations were hampered by the chilly transocean relations. There needed to be a consensus, and I, Honorius Emirus Selarchet, was going to be the one to form it!

The Emperor had granted me a token guard force, which had been placidly lead away upon entering the capitol building; now I didn't expect to see or hear from them again. As for physical resistance, although I was taller than most lepulines, I was not particularly well-built and had largely shirked the majority of my swordsman's training; I didn't think it wise to try. If I had an ego -- I don't like to think I do, but I am a politician, and a mindful one at that -- it steadily deflated as I lost my clothing and possessions. They didn't even let me keep my loincloth.

I was marched, shivering, into the council room, where I was subjected to a brief audience with the senior councilors. I could feel them staring at me, and couldn't find the professionalism to raise my eyes from the floor. There were more of the scruffy mammals in the room, too; I didn't really get a good look at them. I heard some of them whispering and giggling, though. I wondered which aspect of hydran anatomy they found so foreign as to warrant gossip.

Finally, I was taken to the most spartan and whitewashed ambassadorial quarters any imperial citizen could have ever laid eyes upon. It was a reasonable apartment, sure, several rooms, but nothing like what even a fairly low-ranking diplomat would have been accorded in any other posting. I did not miss the single entrance and winding, guard-encrusted corridors leading up to it. I doubted I would be permitted to leave of my own accord. They left me there. They didn't take off my handcuffs. They didn't give me anything to wear. Or eat, or drink.

I paced the length of the main room, the chain between my ankles rattling against the floor. Hydrans have short legs and elongated bodies, with our hips being at most a quarter of our height up from the floor. Such a build is not conducive to agility, but the chain further hampered my movements; I'd trip myself if I tried to run. The windows were thrown wide, and unlike my... hosts... I did not have short, thick fur to protect me from the elements. What little hair I did have was bristling down the back of my neck, as the sun grew low and the temperature plummeted.

I was beginning to wonder if they'd indeed imprisoned me here, and if I should perhaps fling myself upon the floor and allow frigid exhaustion to claim me, when -- finally -- the door opened, without so much as a knock. I looked around, keeping my body at an angle to the door. "Ah, lovely, I expect you're here to move me to my new, permanent home in the dungeon."

The lepuline who entered was slightly shorter than average, possessed of sinewy limbs and rounded haunches, and fur of a particularly even graphite hue (except at the tip of his nose, within his ears, et cetera, which were bare black skin as per usual for his species). He wasn't dressed as a guard, rather wearing light tan leather covering his shoulders and chest, and a matching leather loincloth not that different in design from the linen one the guards had pulled off me several hours ago. He had practiced motions and a steely physique. He looked young. His long, diamond-shaped ears were swept back and up, and his green eyes were sharp. Despite the rather rodent-like appearance of your average lepuline, there was a refinement to his features, a clear, even smoothness, that was unmistakable in its aesthetic harmony. He had an appealing face, within the context of his species (which looked rather short-snouted and ovoid, to my sensibilities).

The newcomer gave me an uncertain look, and then a slow, wry grin as he shut the door. "I assure you, Emirus, no such relocation is on the agenda. These are the ambassadorial quarters set aside for you."

I jumped a bit at the usage of my personal name. Well, that was at least an improvement over the callous dismissal of the prior guards -- sans title, but I'd take it. "In that case, are you here to bring me some clothes? Because it is really cold in here."

Another chuckle, this one in a different tone; he averted his eyes. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I must again answer in the negative."

Somewhat more surprising, and frustrating. "I assume you're not here to take these off, either -- " I rattled my wrists behind my back " -- so could you at least close the windows?"

"That, I can do," he said, and moved to one window, and then the other. He then made his way to the small fireplace, set between the doors to the adjoining study and sitting room, and set to work lighting it; in spite of my discomfort, I moved in behind him, trying not to look too much like I was in the process of freezing to death.

A few moments later, and I was soaking in the first rays of orangey warmth; he seized one of the high-backed armchairs and moved it over to rest in front of the fireplace. "Have a seat."

I did, crossing my legs and hunching over to give myself some small modicum of modesty. The chain between my ankles rattled.

He returned with another chair for himself, and sat slightly further back, on the other side of the fireplace. "Hopefully this is more amenable to you. I apologize if your treatment was crass; it is not cold tonight, for one of our kind."

"Well, you've been more polite in five sentences than everyone else I've met today put together, so I'm inclined to forgive you," I grumbled, my face feeling warmer than the fire warranted. "What's your business with me, sir?"

"I am to be your attendant," he said. "Which you may think of as something between a bodyguard and a secretary. My name is Mohjir. I understand in imperial culture it is normal to address associates by titles, such as 'sir' or 'attendant', only; please do not do this in the Federation. Call me Mohjir."

Ah, that explained a thing or two; I resolved to consider it his public name, though I knew lepuline cultures did not have such distinctions. "Mohjir it is," I said, parsing the foreign phonemes on the fly; the name had a sharp central sound, buzzing and abrasive. Mawh-zzhhiiiiiir. How fortunate, that I was fluent in the Acyrot language variants; how unfortunate, that Kletholan had undergone such an alarming vowel shift and gained such weird aspiration patterns. I could manage for most speech, but names required some mental acrobatics. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like an explanation: by what cause is a guest of state stripped naked and shackled, in the Federation?"

Mohjir's face twisted into a grimace in response to the acid in my tone. "I am certain today has been... very different, for you," he began, voice gentle. "And difficult. I want to assure you that none of this has been with the aim of causing you discomfort."

"I must say I'm rather past discomfort," I sputtered. "Your government has seen more of me than some of my mates. Be assured the Federation's regard for personal dignity has been noted." The last line was less a real threat and more a casual political joust; one must always be moving, putting new footholds down, particularly early on in a posting.

He made a pained face. "I understand your feelings. However, you must also understand, disrobing is normal and expected for your situation. Clothing is an easy way to conceal weapons and commit subterfuge. The council did not trust you to refrain from those, given you have only just arrived."

"I was rather hoping I exuded a natural trustworthiness," I protested.

He laughed, an honest, amused laugh, but his eyes were colder than I expected when they opened. "You would be perhaps well-advised to dismiss such thoughts. The historic relationship with the Empire has not been favorable."

Yeek. Well then. "So this is political. I'm being humiliated on account of our past diplomatic engagements -- "

"Nothing so personal," Mohjir chuckled. "You were not singled out; the rest of our envoys are asked to disrobe as well."

Now I was growing angry, the anger of hurt. "I was not asked. I was manhandled, restrained, and forcibly exposed."

He sounded chagrined, at least enough to mollify me slightly. "I cannot speak to your experience other than to offer my personal regrets, as irrelevant as those may be; all I can try to explain is that this is a cultural matter, not an assault." His eyes shifted over me. I crossed my legs again. "I do not know terribly much of Imperial culture, but I am aware nudity is regarded as a shameful matter, in a way it simply... is not, here. You will likely often see citizens of the Federation wearing far less than you are accustomed to, particularly in the south. And for someone in your position, the removal of clothing is an important expression of mutual trust and goodwill."

"I see," I growled, not feeling particularly good-willed. "Well, it's been done, against my wishes, I might say. Now that we're all able to trust one another, might I please get dressed?"

He dodged my eyes. "It... is traditional, you understand, that state actors remain without concealment in most contexts until such time as the intentions of both client and individual are well established."

"What on earth does that mean?"

"It means that our envoys, when they begin their postings, typically do not make use of clothing for a period of several months, at least -- "

"Several months?!"

"I... can see this distresses you," he said, seeming at a loss.

"What of my duties, what of the necessary meetings with... What, what, what of audiences?" I sputtered.

"Such matters... will proceed as expedient? I believe you already have several requests for audience within the fortnight, and likely more will be placed, now that you have arrived." He hesitated. "If you feel this is not..."

"You can't be serious," I murmured. "This is insane. You expect me to do my job naked. You really do. Your whole government."

"I..." he stammered, against my outburst. "Please be patient, Emirus -- " I winced. " -- and I will try to reconcile with you. The Federation is aware that... certain aspects of Imperial culture are foreign to us, and that... allowances will need to be made for you that... would not be necessary, for more local envoys. If the matter of clothing places such a hardship upon you, that you cannot execute your duties, or do not feel the Federation is acting in good faith, I believe the councilors are willing to consider alternative arrangements. Not that I can speak for them." He gave me an earnest look. "You must understand, we are not accustomed to dealing with such cultural restrictions. I don't believe this matter was regarded as a major issue in your appointment; not when there are so many other rough areas in our nations' history."

My face was burning again; the ability to look Mohjir in the face came and went opposite to my recollection that he was able to see my genitals even now. "You're putting a defensible face on it, but there's a bit of distance between cultural conflicts and traditions and three guards holding me down and tearing my clothes off." Hyperbole, but not by much. "Not to mention forcing me in front of the council nude. I don't doubt they wanted me feeling cowed, my first visit. A fitting reception for any citizen of the Empire." I was trying to muster righteous anger, but I felt a little less angry and a little more wounded than I wanted to.

"I can see how this must feel very personal, to you," the lepuline said quietly. "I am sure you can understand, there are... many layers, to the current situation, not the least on account of historic... unpleasantness. There are those who look with disapproval on any diplomatic engagement with the Empire, and indeed your... rough treatment... may be attributable to them, via some route I cannot fathom. But we -- the Federation as a whole, as well as myself, personally -- do not wish you ill. If you are truly offended, allow me to ask your forgiveness, if not on behalf of my people, at least of my own volition." He touched his chest. "I would not wish this situation upon you, if it bothers you so."

"Let's set the clothing matter aside for now," I grouched, curling over myself a bit more. I rattled the handcuffs behind my back. "Explain this."

"Ah, that is a more temporary condition, fortunately, but more regrettable," he said. "You are currently in state custody on account of some... unfortunate disagreements in the council. When those disagreements are resolved, you will be released."

"What sort of disagreements?"

"I am not at liberty to say. It was not explained to me." He gave a helpless shrug. "I will try to find out in more detail for you, if you desire."

"Swell. You do that," I huffed. "How am I expected to eat, and bathe?"

"Ah, well, that is where I come in," he said, shifting a little in his chair. "The attendant is an ambassador's closest associate. I am to control all access to you and facilitate your access to whichever parties you require. I organize your concerns and keep track of your appointments. I also attend to your comfort and related needs. Anything you require assistance with, do not hesitate to instruct me; no matter is below my purview."

"So, you're more of a glorified butler," I stated, not without a little jaundice.

"I... suppose that is a way to put it," he said delicately, clearly not fond of the analogy.

"And who appointed you?"

"I was precedent in the council delegation and had a suitable skillset," he said, a bit haltingly. "I... ah, I do hope we will be compatible. It is of course to your judgment, if I am able to execute my duties competently."

Well, that made me feel bad; I wasn't exactly proving to be a gem of a master at the moment, was I? The poor guy was probably wondering what he'd gotten himself into. "I apologize," I said, after a moment. "I haven't had the best day. I am certain you'll perform admirably."

He gave me a curious look, then, but I was too cross to work out what it meant.

"If it's appropriate to order you around, I haven't eaten or drank since we made port," I said.

"Ah, curse, I had intended to bring you something shortly after you arrived, but I was not notified until recently," he said, leaping up. "Give me a moment, I will return."

I watched him make for the door, and then settled myself staring broodingly into the fire. It was rather impossible to get comfortable with my arms chained behind my back like this; I had to sit straight up, which consequently meant I had to stick my tail out behind me, which was markedly uncomfortable given my lack of trousers. Having that region of my body touching anything much rougher than linen is extremely unpleasant; the scales there are very sensitive. At least I was warm now.

He did return, and fairly quickly; I followed him to the apartment's table and positioned myself gingerly in a suitable manner on the relatively pedestrian bench beside it. There was some variety of meat (from the shape I guessed waterfowl) I wasn't familiar with, and round discs of vegetable, rather like cucumbers, but soft and oily.

As soon as he set the plate down, I nosed in, seized a vegetable in my teeth, and with a little toss, crunched it down. Hmm. Mild, a bit lemony.

"This may not be the most desirable situation for you, given our limited relationship," he was saying, across the room at the counter. "But I will endeavor to make you as comfortable as I can. I don't suppose you..." He paused, halfway back to the table, eyes wide. I glanced up a bit guiltily, a leg in my teeth; I bit, and the bone clattered onto the plate. I chewed slowly, grease dripping from my chin.

"You must be hungry," he said carefully, returning to sit across from me; he set the utensils he'd gathered aside, and held out the napkin to me. I rubbed the tip of my muzzle against it.

"You might say that," I chuckled, before gripping another piece of vegetable and sawmilling it. He more or less watched, and I more or less made a mess of my plate, but I did fine clearing the food from it. Within the space of five minutes I was gnawing on the bones.

"I can get you another serving if that was not sufficient," he said.

"No, no, that was quite enough, thank you," I said, around the bone. Trying to set my anger aside, for his sake, I explained. "I believe you'll find my kind does not digest as quickly as yours; too big a meal and I'll be out of commission for a day or two, sleeping it off. Even this was rather large, but as I said, I have not eaten all day."

"Ah, I see. I am pleased I chose the correct amount, then." He paused. "I'm afraid I have a great deal to learn about your kind. I was only dimly aware of the Empire's existence. I had never seen a hydran until today."

"And what a sight it was," I said, rather sardonic.

He smiled indulgently. "I see you do not have multiple heads."

I laughed in spite of myself. "With which to devour babes, I don't doubt! You were warned of such things as a child, I take it?"

"It might have been mentioned. A cultural misconception, I'm certain, on account of... political history."

"Indeed, and perhaps not unexpected," I replied. "For my part, I am familiar with the Federation's reputation and history, but not at all with your people or culture. I have only a limited knowledge of the broader Acyrotian region and the lepuline species in general, in fact. Perhaps we may learn from each other."

"That would suit me nicely," he said pleasantly. "Shall we have a quid pro quo arrangement?"

"Hmm..." I grinned slightly, not unable to find some humor in his proposition. "If we did, the only way to begin would be for you to disrobe, I'm afraid."

He laughed at that. "I suspect you would be more uncomfortable if I did, than I would."

"I suppose," I said, faintly unsettled by his nonchalance. "I think we had best keep a single pair of clothes between us, at minimum."

"Indeed, perhaps that is well-advised. I will keep your cultural predispositions in mind when dressing, since it is likely you will see me more often than other lepulines."

"I appreciate it." I shifted. "Is there no way I can have the use of my paws for a moment?"

He regarded me. "I am afraid not. I would accord you the agency if I could, but I do not have the authority, nor the keys."

"Ah. That is unfortunate," I said.

"But, tell me what it is you need, and I will do my best to help," he said, rising.

I ducked my head, embarrassed. "I am afraid you cannot."

"Have a little faith," he chuckled.

"I, ah... Have need of the washroom," I said quietly. "I would not have you involved in... such things."

He sobered. "I would never presume to further heighten your discomfort, but please understand, as your attendant, I care much more about averting any hardship or frustration you might encounter. Do not be concerned about those matters being distasteful to me."

"As thankful as I am for your attitude and... concern, I barely know you," I said to the table. "My privacy is a scarce commodity these days, it seems, but I would prefer to keep that which I still have."

"O-of course," he said, sounding rather put-down. "I would not dream of further invading it. I will leave you to your own devices."

"That said..." I mumbled. "I am... afraid I really do need the use of my paws."

He looked at me uncertainly. "I fear we may have another cultural misunderstanding in the works."

"The... anatomy involved requires some... manipulation," I choked out. "Which cannot be accomplished with my paws behind my back like this. I will... I will make a mess."

He gave me a warm, sympathetic smile, and I was thankful he didn't immediately jerk his eyes downward to 'inspect' said anatomy. "It's all right, Emirus, I understand. Perhaps you would prefer to... manage, to the best of your ability, and allow me to clean up if necessary? Would you like to bathe afterward?"

The usage of my personal name did not help my mood, but I was too upset to object. Humiliated, I indicated I would, not trusting myself to stay dry.

"Very well, I will wait here. Call me when you're ready to bathe, and I will fill the washbasin, and assist you if you desire."

In perhaps one of the most ignominious moments of my life, I shuffled to the washroom and nosed the door shut, and with great resignment, did what I had to do. I was able to half-crouch over the plumbing fixture (which, unlike the porcelain I was used to, was more like a stone cistern coming out of the wall), which at least confined the results to the immediate vicinity of its opening. Because of the... arrangement... of... things... I got an alarmingly good lift, nearly splattering myself in the nose, and definitely hosing down my chest multiple times, as I attempted to keep most of it from running down my legs onto the floor. It was... an immensely distressing experience, even with no one there to witness.

Blushing and empty, I sat myself awkwardly in the basin, took a moment to compose myself as best I could, and called to Mohjir. I didn't particularly want to see his nose wrinkle when he walked into the room, so I focused on the bottom of the basin and emulated a statue; he configured the plumbing, and a moment later he was giving me a nice rinse-down with pleasantly hot water, sweeping it over my front with a long wand connected to the plumbing with a flexible tube. I was fond of the feeling, I must admit.

"I assume you're not interested in a scrub," he remarked, somewhat wryly.

I felt a little better, now that my shame was melting under the warmth of comfort. "Hopefully I'll have these damn things off before I need one," I replied, managing an almost-normal voice. "You seem awfully comfortable with this line of work."

"As I said, my skillset was suited to this particular posting. I have served as a chamberman before, though my most recent job was in a secretarial role."

"Ah, I see." I stood and stepped carefully out of the basin. "I suppose I have no choice but to solicit your assistance with the towel."

"Well, suppose I try like this," he said, and exercised the utmost care pulling the towel across my scales through tension from the sides rather than pressing his paws against me. This meant some areas, such as under my arms and between my legs, remained rather wet, but I had had a long and horrible day, and appreciated not being manhandled and groped for a second time.

After I was passably dry, I left Mohjir to clean up after me (not something I wanted to watch), and settled for a somewhat more sedate -- albeit rather furtive, on account of the windows and my nakedness -- tour of my residence, which I had been too distressed to see much of before Mohjir's arrival. There was the minimalist entry and sitting room I'd been pacing in, the kitchen I had just had my meal in, a study with a massive desk and a number of books I assumed my predecessor had left behind, whoever he or she had been, or that perhaps had been placed there specifically for me. The bathroom lay just before a more private parlor-type room, behind the study and kitchen, and finally in the rear was a rather large bedroom. I was pleased to see that the rear areas were somewhat less bare-looking, though I couldn't pretend they were anything like what I'd come to expect from a posting. My amenities in the capitol had been twice this size and immeasurably more lavish, and that was when I was on my last political legs.

Although, perhaps it was fair to say my position was no less precarious here. A great many people felt a great many things about this posting, most of them negative, and I had no doubt any number of them would see fit to discredit and defame me any way they could. Or hells, make an outright attempt on my life. If I were lucky, having the locals catch sight of my nether regions would be the worst of my troubles. That was small consolation, but the pragmatic fraction of my mind was consoled by it.

At last, I retired to my bedroom, and spent a moment frowning at the rather tightly-dressed bed, before Mohjir jumped to pull back the covers for me. Feeling rather shy once more, I clambered ungracefully under them, and then looked up and saw that he was looking away, across the room.

I think it was about then, that I first began to feel a sort of warmth toward Mohjir. He was a pawn in some power struggle much greater than either of us, perhaps, but I was in his care, and more than professionalism, I could see that he really did wish to treat me as kindly as possible... if, at least, he was able to figure out how to do so. He was right, of course -- my interaction with my new hosts was a many-layered situation, with many official and unofficial attitudes lining each layer. What he did not realize, I think, is that what mattered by far the most, from my perspective, was that very first layer. How he treated me, and how he responded to my foreign sensibilities.

Feeling somewhat less humiliated than he could possibly have made me feel, I bade him good-night, and dismissed him.

---

Even when I try not to worldbuild I end up worldbuilding.

An additional fun note, I used to have a significant aversion to species like cabbits (both as a singular fixture in furry stories, and as an instance of hybrids). Wasn't fond of sergals, etc. either. I've more or less gotten over that, but I do like to either use real-world species basis, or spend an inordinate amount of time constructing an "alien" or "derived" species of my own with its own distinct culture and characterization, rather than simply settling for "They're literally just rabbit/cat hybrids, nothing special." Hence why the lepuline are called and portrayed in the manner that they are, even though it perhaps would have been less work on my part to call them cabbits, or perhaps gazimon. Feels more authentic this way, even if it's secretly not. :P

See you guys in two weeks.