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OK, warning is necessary here. This part might be unpleasant for some people. If the description of Sandleford Warren was too disturbing for you, I'm not sure what to say. There's no specific part for you to skip. These next few chapters are not about nice people, or nice situations.

Oh, yeah, adult content in this chapter, too.

Corwin Hall, Chapter 8

The young, lean Wolf marched down the stone corridor, gas lamps on the wall glinting in his half-lidded eyes. His black uniform fit his frame perfectly, and the red mantle on his shoulders made him look broader than he was. It was not a noble, flowing cape, but pure leather, and it gripped his back like a talon. He passed a young officer, who stopped, stood at attention, and yelled "Chaire Agathos!"

"Chaire," the Wolf growled back, not looking at the junior officer and continuing to stalk down the passage, boots clicking with every step. He couldn't spare the time to be social with the pissant bureaucrats stationed at this God-forsaken stronghold. He despised the entire Florida peninsula, and kept a running tally of the days until the west coast would be secure enough to move the seat of government.

Ahead of him, the corridor opened into a large hall with yellow banners bearing the blood-stained fang of the UPN. He was relieved to see Chrysos, his Chief of Secret Police. He wasn't a friend, but at least he was a member of the central government. The old, grey Wolf matched stride perfectly as he strode through the room.

"Chaire Agathos," Chrysos rumbled in a low murmur.

"Chaire. What did you want to see me about?"

"Arvetis..." This made the fur on his hackles rise, but the old mongrel had earned the right to call him by his given name. Chrysos had been the Chief of Police since Arvetis was a weanling, and had been a useful tool to Aeschros, the previous Chancellor. That is, according to rumor, until Chrysos was instrumental in Aeschros's death. Nobody questioned the ancient cur's strength, despite his frail form. "Arvetis, the news from the western offensive is grim."

"Well? Explain." Arvetis kept the frustration out of his voice.

"I will let General Phylax do that, I think." They had come to a small flight of stone steps built into the side of the hall. Two guards - obviously enlisted; one was a fox and the other was a stoat - stood at attention on either side.

"You mean you don't want to be the one to give me bad news."

"It is, fortunately, not part of my job description."

Arvetis grunted, offering neither assent or reproof, and stepped down the stairs and past the guards. Through a heavy-set door was a small war room, with maps and bulky radio equipment lining the walls. In the center, next to a wide table set with strategic markers, stood the hulking form of General Phylax.

"Chaire Agath-"

"Shut up." Arvetis sneered. "Report what you have to." The large Wolf was unfazed; Arvetis's ire never seemed to bother him.

"The assault on Westriver Warrens failed, Sir Agathos." Phylax's eyes remained fixed just over Arvetis's left shoulder.

"How? They're peasants defending a few holes in the ground."

"The special unit was not trained in subterranean combat, as I explained when you redirected it there."

Arvetis's lip rose, but he knew he couldn't contest that. Not with Chrysos standing behind him. "Well, take care of it. You've got an army, haven't you?"

"That isn't all, sir. Reports indicate that the Prey of Nigosoka settlement are arming themselves, with the aid of the Sandleford rebel government. They may be mounting an insurgence."

"And what is the governor doing about it? Melenos is his name, correct?" Arvetis examined the sharpened nails on his paw.

"Yes, sir. Nothing, sir. He seems to believe it would be disruptive to the social order to act on rumors delivered by paid informants."

"Kill him. Replace him with one of Chrysos's men, with instructions not to bother investigating whether the uprising is real or not. Act as if it were. Curfews, summary executions, and so on."

"Yes, sir."

"What of the northern advance?"

"Progressing, sir, but slowly. New England is seventy percent prey species." Phylax gestured at the map on the center table, cluttered with markers of different colors. Arvetis did not comprehend them, and had no wish to.

"And Phuto City?"

"Empty, sir. Most of it is burned to the ground, and there has been no activity sighted at Warkyn Warren. Landmines prevent detailed inspection."

"You are certain? I don't like having a large Rabbit settlement so near our stronghold."

"If there's anyone alive there, sir, they're not doing anything.

Arvetis nodded, closing his eyes and thinking for a long moment. "Redeploy the northern advance. I don't care about it; we need to eliminate the West Coast Resistance so we can move our capital to the Pacific. Leave enough troops that we won't lose any territory, and reroute the rest to Westriver. Crush the warrens with numbers."

"Sir, the northern troops aren't trained for warren fighting either."

"There are fifty thousand of them! Do it!" Arvetis snarled, livid.

"Yes, sir." Phylax saluted. "That is all I have to report, sir."

"Thank God." Arvetis turned and started up the stairs, but stopped partway up and looked over his shoulder at Phylax. "There is no refuge for the weak," he said lowly.

"No, sir."

"That includes our own."

"Of course, sir. Strength shall prevail."

Arvetis turned again and left the room, and Chrysos shadowed him.

"He doesn't scare easily," Chrysos said as they re-entered the yellow-bannered hallway.

"I don't care, as long as he brings me news of a victory in California. I hate Florida." Arvetis was frustrated. It was embarrassing on an international scale that North America, his own continent, was the most resistant to UPN rule. Europe had offered almost no military resistance, except for Great Britain, which could sit off the coast and rot for all Arvetis cared. Asia was quickly coming along. They won't be so eager to join, though, if Arvetis couldn't maintain control over his own home ground.

"Sir, there is another item of interest," Chrysos interrupted Arvetis's rumination. "The excavation team constructing the new munitions testing range in the western wing of the stronghold... they have uncovered something."

"What do you mean?"

"You know that this place has been a Predatory keep for centuries. They've unearthed the remains of what appears to be an ancient library. Scrolls, mostly, and some books. My men are just beginning to go through them to see if their contents are fit for public consumption, but they all appear to be historical Predatory accounts, including descriptions of previous attempts to subjugate the Prey species."

"Interesting, I suppose." Arvetis stalked off back into the narrow corridor. "Keep me updated. I'm going to my quarters for some exercise."

"Chaire Agathos." Was there a sardonic hint to the Chief of Police's voice? Arvetis did not respond.

***

The Rabbit clung to the stone wall with the still grace of a seasoned climber. Greenish-grey paint obscured the normally creamy tone of his fur where his camouflage vest and pants did not cover him. In the swampy night, nobody could possibly have seen him from the ground unless they shone a spotlight directly on him.

It was really too easy, thought Geraden Warkyn as he grasped the edge of the windowsill, pulling himself up just enough to see if anyone was inside the darkened room. UPN security was focused almost entirely on information. Physical security was limited to making sure the occasional Prey insurgences died before they could advance beyond their hometowns. As of yet, the Prey Resistance had given the preds no reason to be more on guard; they kept their guerilla resources well-hidden and untapped. That would change soon.

Geraden drew a long blade from his waist, thin and double-edged, and slipped it under the window. With a little effort, the spring steel leveraged the window open, and he slipped through. This was a practice run, really. The political realities were not ideal for assassinating Agathos now, but the Resistance needed to know that, when they were, Geraden would be able to deliver on a few hours' notice.

Geraden quickly surveyed the empty quarters, his vision already dark-adjusted. They were luxurious, by military standards. A four-post bed, several wardrobes, a portrait -

"A portrait of himself?" Geraden said aloud, shaking his head. It hung above the bed, showing Arvetis in uniform, riding a white stallion and pointing towards the horizon. Geraden carefully closed and re-latched the window, and headed for a large writing desk in the corner.

The primary mission - to secure entrance to Arvetis Agathos's quarters in an undetectable, repeatable way - had been accomplished, but Geraden was more interested in the secondary mission at this point. He was to discover whatever personal information he could about Agathos, in case an assassination never became politically feasible. Blackmail and extortion were always possibilities.

Geraden flipped through the stack of papers on the desk. It was too dark to read them, but he didn't dare risk lighting the gas lamps that lined the room. He took out a small flashlight and was about to turn it on when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside the quarters. He froze, twitching one floppy ear in concentration. The footsteps seemed to turn a corner, becoming suddenly louder, then approached, and finally stopped at the door.

Geraden spun, adrenaline flowing though his body. He ran silently to the window and pulled up on it. Latched! Cursing voicelessly, he heard a key in the door. He turned, saw the large bed, and ran for it. He saw the door open just as he slid under the bed, and by the time Arvetis turned on the first lamp, Geraden was nowhere to be seen.

Arvetis lit all of the lamps, mentally cursing the difficulties of running electricity through an ancient fortress in the middle of a swamp. He took off his mantle, hung it on a hook on the wall, and began unbuttoning his uniform. He was breathing heavily, trying to control the frustration and panic building in his chest. He had expected to be in Los Angeles a month ago, and helping the Vulpine Brotherhood in their bid for power in Japan. His international reputation was taking a serious hit from the American unrest, and if he couldn't quell it soon, the UPN might begin to fracture. He shook his head and stretched. Time for some stress relief.

He removed his shirt, took a deep breath, and dropped his pants. He looked down at his thick diaper and smiled a little. It had been hidden by the odd bulges in the riding pants that were part of the standard UPN officer's uniform. The extra room in the crotch and rear had been his own addition to the design. The cape fell off the hook, and he bent low to pick it up.

As he bent over, he thought he heard a noise from behind the bed. He slowly replaced the mantle, then walked over to the other side of the bed, crinkling loudly. Nothing. It must have been one of the lanterns popping.

Diapers? Geraden was incredulous. He'd seen everything when Arvetis had bent over. Could the great Arvetis Agathos, High Chancellor of the United Predatory Nations, be incontinent? He laid perfectly still as Arvetis investigated the room, berating himself for the small gasp he had given.

A creak and two bulges in the bottom of the bed above his chest told him that Arvetis was kneeling on the bed now, apparently satisfied with his inspection. After a moment, a sharp and acrid smell filled his nostrils. Arvetis was using his diaper. He considered trying to shift out from directly under the Wolf, but decided the risk of noise was too high.

The crinkle of Arvetis's diaper continued, even though he didn't seem to be moving. Geraden realized he must be rubbing it. Not incontinent then, he thought, but a fetishist. Oh, this was too good. The two bulges in the bed turned into a long, shallow form; Arvetis was lying down. The bed began to squeak rhythmically, and Arvetis gave a little whimper. Geraden turned his head and closed his eyes, disgusted. The Wolf was humping the bed just inches above him.

Geraden realized he was still holding the long blade, and considered how easy it would be to thrust it upwards through the mattress. He thought about the scandal that would erupt when Arvetis was discovered, transfixed to his bed and wearing a piss-stained diaper. What would it accomplish, though? Arvetis's younger brother was next in line for the chancellorship, and by all accounts he was just as ruthless as Arvetis. Less of a military idiot, too. The assassination could not happen now.

Arvetis thrust into the mattress harder now, reaching a paw around to fondle the warm rear of his diaper. His thoughts were a confused mess, but pleasurable. He called himself weak and helpless, and loved it. He squeezed his knot through the soaked padding, thighs shivering. He gave two more jerking thrusts, and began to spurt into the front of the thick diaper, letting a muffled howl out into his pillow. He slowly stopped humping, panting hard and turning his head to the side. He closed his eyes and reveled in the warm afterglow. He pissed some more as his erection subsided, barely even noticing.

After a few long minutes, Arvetis came back to his senses and sat up on the bed. He stood up and wandered around the room, looking for his bathrobe in a light daze. He found it balled up under his desk, fished it out, and walked towards the door to his private bathroom, feeling much better now. His diaper still crinkled, but it was muted by the liquid weight of his "accident." He opened the door and waddled in.

Under the bed, Geraden laid still, listening. He heard the pop of tapes coming off plastic. The sound of a shower running came from the bathroom, and he took his opportunity, slipping out from under the bed. He opened the window, swung himself out legs-first, and closed it behind him from his perch on the sill. He had no way of latching it from the outside, and had to hope nobody would notice.

***

Victoria Melenos lay weeping silently in the darkness of her closet. She bit her paw hard to stop any sound from escaping, drawing a trickle of blood from her finger. Outside, in the bedroom, her husband knelt at the foot of their bed. Two members of the Secret Police, visible through the slats of the closet door, stood behind him, guns drawn. Their sparse uniforms blended into the darkness of the room, making them look like floating heads.

"Governor Melenos," the taller one said, standing directly behind the kneeling Wolf, "your commission is hereby revoked by order of the United Predatory Nations central government.

"I love you," the governor breathed. The tall officer shot once into the back of his neck, then twice more into his slumped back. Victoria let out a low, hitching moan, unable to contain it. The goons only looked over to the closet and smirked.

"Be moved out by Friday, Lady Melenos," the shorter one said. "We have new residents coming in."