FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Chapter Sixteen

*****

An indigo sash.

A goddamn indigo sash, Argos thought.

Outwardly, the coyote kept his cool as Rivi turned the page, away from the family photograph. He made sure to continue showing interest, to smile, to listen. He did all he could act as though that sash of office wasn't a big deal. But it was.

Argos's calm exterior belied his racing mind. He should have known. That sash explained a whole hell of a lot. The sheltered upbringing, the ingrained shame, the cushy scholar's job, the diplomatic travel permits. Hell, it might have even explained why they'd selected Rivi to be their Wandering Scholar despite his lack of experience with the world beyond his privileged life. Rivi's father wasn't just well-connected, he was absolute upper-echelons of feline governance, connected.

Argos couldn't tell exactly how high up Rivi's father was from a quick look at a slightly blurry photo, but the sashes and medals told him more than enough. The Ministries that made up a large portion of the feline's government bestowed colored sashes upon their highest ranking members, as a badge of office. They were always included in formal dress for important events, and meetings. Different Ministries used different color schemes, but off the top of his head, Argos could only think of a handful at most that included indigo edged in silver. None of them were good news. In all of them, the colors indicated someone at the absolute highest ranks. Argos's heart sank. His stomach settled into a cold pit. Age-old instincts told warned Argos he was not going to like it when he discovered who Rivi's father really was.

Whatever his position, it also explained why Rivi wasn't supposed to talk about him. The felines had plenty of enemies, after all. Both internal and external. The families of their highest ranking authorities were generally kept private for their own safety. If an enemy of their Church were to capture, say, the son of one of their high-ranking Ministry officials, there was no telling what manner of blackmail and coercion they might attempt. In this case, it was far safer for their Wandering Scholar if no one he met knew just who his father was. If they wished to present him as some anonymous scholar, selected on his merits, that might explain the lack of a larger contingent of guides, and bodyguards. Yet Argos that doubted that Rivi's singular porter, and subsequent abandonment were for reasons so benign.

As Rivi flipped through a few more pictures of so-called boring events, Argos wondered why Rivi's father would send him on this journey. It was clear that the elder cheetah was a right bastard, unwilling to accept his son for who he truly was. And yet, the proud smile on his face seemed genuine. Rivi himself believed his father to be proud of him for becoming the Wandering Scholar. Did Spots's father somehow believe that this pilgrimage would 'toughen up' his son? Turn him from his impure ways? If that were true, then surely the bastard would have pulled some strings and arranged for his son to be kept safe, however covertly. Then again, the color of his sashes indicated he was not from the same Ministry that arranged the pilgrimage. Was it possible they'd given Rivi's Father false assurances of his son's safety? It wouldn't be near the first time that members from one Ministry had stabbed another in the back.

At least when Rivi reached the photograph of himself praying before the feline's Divine Weaver, Argos found an excuse to be drawn back into Rivi's pilgrimage, for a while. His questions about the Church's names were genuine, as was his interest in Rivi's detailed answer. So too was his fascination with the feline beliefs in their world's divine origin. Argos knew the general ideas that underpinned the Church of the Divine Weaver, but until Rivi explained it, he hadn't realized they meant the concept quite so literally.

He found himself further curious about what else they might believe. If their Divine put their world back together with pieces of other broken worlds like some cosmic jigsaw puzzle, where he had he gone afterwards? Had the effort been so costly that it cost the Divine his own existence? Or had he ventured off to offer the same salvation to other worlds? For now, Argos resisted the urge to ask Rivi those questions, lest he send the cheetah off into a scriptural explanation that lasted until they docked at the first of the Winged Isles.

Rivi continued on through his photos, and Argos allowed himself to remain focused on the cheetah, and his journey. The coyote reminded himself that his worries could wait, for later. Now was a time to better get to know the fascinating, complex, and deeply conflicted individual seated next to him. As Rivi walked him through photographs of the first part of his travels, Argos stretched his arm around the cheetah once more. He savored the cat's warmth, and his slowly growing comfort with Argos's touch.

The cheetah showed him photos of places he'd never seen, inside the feline lands. First, there was an immense, and beautiful train depot, filled with columns engraved with images of feline historical figures. Then, Rivi rode aboard one of the oldest trains Argos had ever seen. The coyote knew many other realms sanctioned the felines, or refused to trade with them, and thus the were often reliant on aging machinery and technology. Nonetheless, they had excellent engineers and mechanics, and were able to keep things like trains and airships running long past their expected lifespan. They also had burgeoning industries developed entirely to developing reverse-engineered spare parts from covertly acquired technologies.

Despite the train's decrepit age, it retained an imperial sort of majesty in the photos Rivi showed him. There were gilded crystalline light fixtures in the first-class sleeper cabins and dining cars, ornate wood paneling, copper fittings and window frames, and even stained glass skylights with religious symbols. Rivi seemed especially taken with the train, and so Argos refrained from pointing out how the poor old thing was decades out of date compared to the modern trains in Argos's own homeland.

There were pictures of stunning mountain ranges, taken from the train's windows. In one, towering granite peaks rose like jagged claws to scratch at the cloudless sky. In another, fresh snow smothered the mountaintops, and dusted distant forests. The sun hovered just beyond the mountains in the next photo, casting the steep, gray slopes in shades of liquid fire. Occasionally there were roads in the distance. A few photographs featured smaller depots the train had stopped at.

Argos noticed that power and telephone poles ran alongside the train tracks, but he rarely saw them further away. Rivi had not taken many pictures of the myriad poorer villages and settlements they surely passed through. Argos did not question their absence. He knew all too well that Rivi had likely been instructed to avoid doing so. Argos knew from his own travels through the feline lands that outside their major cities, and their dual industrial belts, their infrastructure was decrepit, at best. There were countless villages and towns dotting the countryside that scarcely even had power, or plumbing, and many more that lacked it entirely.

Eventually Rivi's travels took him to an airship terminal, in one of the feline's largest coastal ports. Again, the beautiful yet aging opulence of the terminal was a far cry from the dirt-poor villages and towns Iosa and Argos has passed through, during their previous mission. Silver chandeliers hung from mirrored ceilings. Immense, beautiful paintings covered entire walls with images from feline Scripture. More of the elegant, engraved columns the felines enjoyed lined the boarding area.

The airship Rivi boarded there was nearly as ancient as the train he rode on. As the cheetah showed Argos several photos of it, and went on about how pretty it was inside, the coyote had to bite his tongue. He sure as hell wouldn't be comfortable riding across the sea in a ship that old. His own travels to and from the feline lands had always been on routes traveled by one of the few other nations openly allied with them. At least their ships were newer. More importantly, their inspections processes were easier to circumvent for people in his line of work.

At least the ship displayed in Rivi's photographs looked impeccably maintained. Its interior held the same sort of imperial-era grandeur as the train. Crystalline lights, gilded ornamentation, decorative wooden panels, paintings of religious and historical figures, and a color scheme of deep maroon and gold. Argos thought it would have made for an absolutely stunning museum, but he wasn't sure it should still be ferrying passengers across the seas.

Nevertheless, Rivi was enamored with it, and Argos refused to say a single unpleasant word aloud. The cat really seemed to like his airships, and until this journey, he'd only ever flown on smaller vessels a few times, journeying between cities in his homeland. And while he surely had many more airship rides ahead in his pilgrimage, Argos just hoped The Worldstrider didn't completely spoil him for all the others. It was unlikely any of the others would even come close.

A picture of a white-furred arctic fox, bundled up in a thick coat occupied the next page. In the photo he was smiling, and waving, standing alongside Rivi's mountain of luggage. Argos's ears went back. He growled, glancing at Rivi. “That's him, ain't it."

The cheetah grunted. “Yes. That's Fafren." Even Rivi growled a little bit. “The little backstabber."

“Lemme get a good look at him." Argos turned the photo album slightly across Rivi's lap, staring at the photo. He memorized the fine details of the fox's face, from the size and shape of his ears, to the way his smile showed off a single sharp tooth, to the darker markings near his eyes. “Just in case."

Rivi let him study the photo for a few moments before turning the page. “There are plenty of other photos of him. My first destination was Salvania, the capital city of rather small nation that shares the same name." He glanced up with a sheepish grin. “I don't know why I'm telling you about it. You've certainly been to far more places than I have."

Argos only shrugged. “So? Tell me whatever you want, Spots."

“Very well." Rivi turned the page, revealing a much smaller airship depot. The terminal was far more plain than the last one, adorned with more heaters than anything else. There were also welcome signs in various languages, along with shops advertising cheap alcohol and warm clothes, and a bevy of food stalls. “Salvania the country is a small nation to the north of my home. A lot of foxes live there, and some felines, too, both those of the Church and those not. They export a lot of food products, as well as lumber, minerals, lifting gases and the like." Rivi tilted his head. “I'll admit, I found their airship depot rather unimpressive at first, but I soon warmed to it thanks to my appreciation for all the languages they welcomed people in. That…" He turned the page, revealing a large bowl of steaming noodle soup, and a platter of fried fish. “And all the food they offered. I tried to choose things I couldn't get back home, and I ate so much that Fafren nearly had to roll me down the street to our hotel for the night."

Argos flashed the cheetah a grin. “Experiencing delicious new food is one of the best parts of travel."

“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree," the cheetah said. “Though not every fresh new culinary experience I've tried has been a positive one. I cannot say I've been especially fond of jellied blood, nor canned toadfish." Rivi scrunched up his whole face, his ears back.

Argos made a similar face. “I'm with you there, Spots. They say it's a delicacy, but I sure as hell don't like it."

“I think I've a picture of it somewhere, in here." He smirked at the coyote. “Perhaps when we reach it, I'll just skip past it." He turned the page, revealing a busy, snow-dusted street at evening time. Yellow lamps shed gentle light upon pedestrians, shops, and street cars. “I found the thoroughfares here quite charming. And to think, I thought this was a lot of snow." Rivi shook his head, chuckling. “Little did I know." He turned the page again, soon displaying a cozy looking two-story hotel built of vibrant red bricks. Soot stained chimneys dotted its roof. “We stayed here for a week, whilst I toured the city and the lands around it."

The next few pages depicted the inn's lounge area. Animal hides lined the floor, while the light fixtures were all constructed of immense sets of interlocking antlers. Several antique hunting rifles were mounted above the hearth. Another photograph showed Rivi's room. More animal hide blankets covered the bed, while snow encrusted the outside of the window. A radiator near the bed provided heat.

Rivi tapped the photo. “The room wasn't very large, but I quite liked it. For my first experience away from my homeland, I found the whole place delightful. Smaller in scale than the city I grew up in, but full of warm people and a rustic sort of charm."

The cheetah moved on, flipping through a number of photographs of famous landmarks in and around Silvania's capital city. Some were in color, others in shades of gray. A towering, seven-tier fountain stood in a public square, its waterfalls completely frozen over. Rivi stood next to it, bundled up, and with his gloved hand raised in an awkward wave. A statue of four foxes in military gear and holding rifles served as monument to some conflict Silvania once fought. A long, four-story palatial building lined with more statues stood beyond a tall, metal fence. Armed guards stood before what Rivi explained was their capital building. On the coastline, several massive icebreaker vessels worked to keep the harbor open for fishing vessels. A towering spire of stone carved by wind and waves stood sentinel over a craggy shore.

“These are some great photos, Spots." Argos smiled, trading a finger across one of them. “Your composition is fantastic."

Rivi lifted his head, beaming. “Thank you! I have tried to consider things like, the structural composition of my photographs, the lighting, the way the color or shadow will look, depending on which camera I'm using. Obviously, I can't always take the time to line up the perfect shot, but…" He turned the page again, revealing a nearly perfectly constructed photograph of a lengthy, silver-painted suspension bridge spanning a gorge, high in the mountains. “Since some of these will end up published in my eventual book, I do want them to be as pleasing to look at as possible."

“I'd say you're succeeding." Argos rubbed the cheetah's shoulder. “You're a hell of a photographer, Spots. You oughta be proud."

“Thank you." Rivi leaned up against the coyote. “I do enjoy my photography."

The cheetah went on through pictures of his time in Silvania. While Argos enjoyed the visual tour, and its distraction from his thoughts about Rivi's father, he enjoyed the company further still. Argos wasn't even sure why he'd come to find Rivi so enthralling, so quickly. Though he'd admitted to the feline that quickly forming short-term relationships were not unusual for him, this felt different. Where Rivi seemed to think everyone else thought him annoying, Argos found him endlessly fascinating. He had truly never known anyone like the cheetah.

Argos suspected it was Rivi's kind and gentle heart that drew him to the cheetah. In his line of work, it was rare for him to meet someone who wore draped so much open-hearted innocence around themselves like a cloak. And rarer still for someone who had likely lived a sheltered, privileged life. Yet where the children of old nobility might well have believed themselves to deserve that life, Rivi would likely well be horrified to learn of his own privilege. The cheetah could surely tell him the definition of nepotism, and yet just as surely, he'd been disgusted and ashamed if he ever discovered his own position came from it.

Cursed with kindness, Argos told himself again. That was Rivi.

Whatever the case, contentment filled Argos just to spend the evening alone with Rivi. He was glad to have a chance to be honest with the cheetah, to admit to Rivi that yes, he was genuinely attracted to him. With the poor cheetah's deeply ingrained sense of impurity and shame, Argos thought it important to be up front. Yes, he found Rivi attractive, yes, he believed there was nothing wrong with that, and no, he did not expect even the softest kiss between them. As far as Argos was concerned, Rivi deserved to know someone found him attractive. Found him fascinating. Found him worthy of a relationship. Whether or not Rivi ever chose to pursue that was up to the cheetah. But now, at least Rivi knew someone out there valued him in that way.

Even if nothing else ever developed between them, Argos hoped that someday Rivi could look back on that realization, and smile.

Not that Argos believed that anyone's value should ever be measured in another's eyes. If there was but one lesson he could impart to Rivi before their time together ended, it was to learn to value himself. All his life, everyone around Rivi had heaped shame upon him until that shame became his own. They looked down on him, simply for who he was. Argos knew it was dangerous to life a so-called impure life in Rivi's homeland. Yet coyote refused to accept that meant Rivi had to see himself as anything less than exactly who he was meant to be. The only one in all the world truly fit to measure Rivi's worth, was Rivi. By the end of their voyage, Argos sincerely hoped to convince Rivi to value himself.

“You're a wonderful person, Rivi." Argos bumped his muzzle against Rivi's cheek, smiling. “I hope you know that."

Rivi blinked at the sudden compliment, the inside of his ears reddening for what must have been at least the tenth time that evening. “Thank you, Argos." He returned the coyote's smile. “Though I don't know what about this picture of a beautifully symmetrical pine tree necessitates that compliment."

Argos only laughed, waving Rivi off. “Just thought you should hear it, that's all."

Dinner soon arrived, delivered by a burly gnoll with a gentle demeanor, and an excitable kobold. Argos let them into the room, and the gnoll pushed in a multi-tiered cart with at least a dozen trays of food on it. The kobold fetched the tray with their room number, and carried it over to the table. Silver cloches covered several plates alongside bottles of beer and other drinks. Argos helped the shorter lizard get the tray up onto the table, and then gave both workers a sizable tip. They thanked him, and were quickly off to their next destination.

As Rivi came to the table, Argos pulled his chair out for him. “Your seat, my friend."

Rivi beamed, and offered a playfully stiff bow of gratitude. “Such a gentleman."

“Only to those who deserve it." Argos opened one of Rivi's beers for him, then removed the cloches. He set Rivi's fish before him as the cheetah took his seat. Then he moved his own steak to the other side of the table, and set the fried potatoes where they could both reach them. Argos fetched his whiskey, then sat across from Rivi. He lifted his glass. “To new friendships."

Rivi clinked his bottled lager against Argos's glass. “Indeed!"

While they ate, they passed the time with casual conversation around some of the other unusual foods Rivi had tasted on his trip so far. Though the cheetah hadn't found any else as vile as the canned toadfish, he was also not a great fan of the pickled octopus featured in a particular coastal enclave he'd passed through. Conversely, Rivi said, charred octopus with citrus proved to be absolutely delicious. He'd eaten seal blubber soup, mouse fritters, fermented glacier-berry jam, aged eagle eggs preserved in alcohol, caribou burgers, noodles flavored with squid ink and mollusk roe, whole hare with organs and all roasted over open coals, and far more local delicacies. Argos was impressed by Rivi's adventurous nature when it came to food. It made him want to take the cheetah on a tour of the ship's many lower-deck eateries, where the wealthy and privileged rarely dined. The coyote made a mental note to do just that.

Just as they finished up their meal, there was another knock at their door. This time, it was Rivi's newspaper delivery. A whole line of workers wheeled in hand trolley after hand trolley piled high with stacks of papers bound with twine. For now, Argos had the workers stack them all up against the wall, alongside Rivi's mountain of luggage. That way, at least, they wouldn't have to navigate a labyrinth of newsprint every time they entered and left the room.

As the stacks grew higher and wider, Rivi stared at them, wide-eyed. “In hindsight," the cheetah said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may have let my excitement over so many new periodicals get the best of me."

Argos laughed at that, playfully clapping the cheetah on the back. “I'd say you did, yes. But hey, at least sorting through all those will give you something to do for the next few days." He glanced at the doors as another worker rolled in yet another tower of newspapers. “Or weeks."

“That's true." Rivi gulped, but then turned towards the coyote, a coy smirk gracing his blunt, feline muzzle. “And just think, Argos. Tomorrow they'll be different papers available, and I can order another entire set!"

“Oh, fuck," Argos said with another laugh. “We'll be barricaded in our cabin by the news of the world before long."

When all the papers were finally delivered and stacked as out of the way as possible, Argos invited Rivi back to the sofa to continue journeying through his photo albums. At that point, Rivi was half-way through his second lager. He settled himself back against Argos seemingly without even realizing it. Argos knew the alcohol was likely a factor, but he decided against pointing it out to Rivi. The cheetah would likely only be embarrassed. And while he enjoyed seeing Rivi increasingly comfortable with cuddling against him for any reason, he also knew inebriation could easily lead to regrets.

Rivi was very clearly a lightweight when it came to alcoholic drinks, and he did not wish to see the cheetah get himself in trouble. Argos made a mental note to try and help Rivi monitor how much he consumed, just to help him avoid doing anything he may come to regret. For now, though, being quicker to resume the friendly sort of cuddling they'd already indulged in was perfectly acceptable.

Rivi walked him through the next portion of his journey. Some of his explanations grew a little more rambling and long-winded, even for Rivi. Argos listened to the way the cheetah spoke carefully. While Rivi wasn't slurring his words, he did stumble over them a few times. While Rivi only had a little of his second beer left, Argos considered gently trying to cut him off. The last thing he wanted was for poor Rivi to wake up with a hangover. But Rivi was enjoying himself, and he'd only ordered two lagers, so Argos decided to let him finish it. He'd just make sure Rivi didn't decide to help himself to any more alcohol for the evening.

The cheetah took him through travels by train and small airship, through little towns and larger cities, meals and drinks with Frafren, and occasionally, with locals. Argos couldn't help but notice that in some of the pictures, the locals did not look happy to be having their photograph taken. Then again, in others they were beaming at the camera and hoisting drinks. The coyote imagined alcohol might well have been a factor in that as well. At least, he thought, the first portion of Rivi's trip looked as if it had been extremely pleasant.

Argos knew that was soon to change, when he saw smoke drifting from a distant peak, photographed from an airship's viewing deck. “Oh, shit…" He leaned forward. “You saw it erupt?"

“Not exactly," Rivi said, sipping the last of his second bottle of lager. “Apparently, it had been belching smoke periodically for months, before the eventual complete eruption. I just so happened to have a very clear view of it doing just that, as we were flying across the frozen lakes in the middle of the continent. It made for an incredible shot, at least."

“It really did," Argos said, examining the photograph.

The mountain stood at the certain of the image, the tallest amidst a long line of gray peaks. A bright white expanse of fresh snow smothered the bottom half of the photo. A trail of black smoke obscured the top half, as the volcano's sulfurous breath slowly drifted towards the east. Argos squinted, just able to make out the colorfully painted buildings of several villages scattered around the base of the volcano, linked by the pale lines of roads. He grimaced, wondering if Rivi knew those settlements were gone, now. He decided against asking.

“You know, Spots," Argos said, rubbing the back of Rivi's hand. “It's been such a pleasant evening, and I know some of the photos to come are gonna stir up some…" He waved his hands. “Let's say, less pleasant emotions." He glanced down at another photo as turned the page. This one showed Fafren seated on the airship, staring out at the smoke-breathing mountain. The hint of a growl crept into Argos's voice. “In both of us. So, maybe that's a good stopping point for tonight. We can always pick up tomorrow night, or some other time soon. I'm sure Iosa would love to see some of your photos, too."

“You think so?" Rivi perked his ears, grinning. “As deeply as I'm enjoying our evening together, I'd certainly be happy to share my experiences with her, as well."

“Yeah, I definitely think so." Argos lifted his hand, stroking Rivi's ears. “Why don't we pause there, for now?"

“Very well." Rivi closed up the album, and set it upon the table in front of the sofa. “We're getting near the end of that one, anyway." He leaned back, lounging against Argos again. “And if I'm truly honest, I'm afraid I'm beginning to feel a little inebriated. Not to mention quite fatigued." He lay his head back against the sofa, only for it to slide over and come to rest against Argos's shoulder. “While I got a good night's sleep last night, it was the first such restful night I've had lately. I've still plenty of rest to catch up on." His eyes shifted to Argos's face, then he blinked as if only now realizing where his head was, and how close their muzzles. “I-is this alright?"

Argos smiled, nodding. “Yeah, Spots." He stroked the feline's ears again. “It's more than alright. You can rest your head on my shoulder, any time you want."

“If you're sure…" Rivi managed a weak smile. “It seems awfully forward for only our second day together. But…" His eyes drifted halfway shut. “It feels nice."

The coyote rubbed the spot between Rivi's ears in a gentle circle, ruffling his fur slightly. “Yeah, it does. And it if helps, Spots, while this might seem forward to you, this is pretty normal, second day with someone I like, behavior."

“If you say so." The cheetah wriggled against the coyote, pressing more firmly against him, his head resting wholly on Argos's shoulder now. “This would almost certainly earn me a purification session, back home."

Argos tensed, fighting back a snarl. “You ain't never gotta worry about that while I'm around, Spots. Far as I'm concerned, you're as pure as they fucking come."

Rivi made a happy little sighing noise. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone use the words pure and fucking in the same sentence." He blinked, then gave a mewling squeak of alarm. “Oh, dear, I've spoken a terrible swear!" Rivi glanced at the empty bottles. “I blame the alcohol."

Argos laughed, hugging him closer. “Yeah, a whole two lagers. You're a regular drunkard."

Rivi lifted a hand, waggling a single finger in the air. “You should see me after three lagers! Why, I'm liable to start singing my people's national anthem, with sarcastic lyrics substituted in!"

Argos gave a mock gasp. “You rebel!" He shifted his position against the arm of the sofa, so that Rivi could lay out against his chest, if he wanted. “You want to get more cuddly, or less cuddly?"

Rivi murmured under his breath, something in the feline tongue. Argos spoke it, though not with especially great fluency. He thought he caught something about temptation, though. “So long as you promise not to tell anyone, I shall accept more." The cheetah turned to sprawl out across the sofa, until his head was resting upon the coyote's chest, his upper body slightly propped against Argos. “But only because between the light inebriation and the heavy fatigue, I don't especially feel like sitting up straight, right now."

Argos grinned down at the feline. “Yeah, I think 'straight' is the last thing you're feeling right now."

The cheetah narrowed his eyes in feigned irritation. “How dare you make such a suggestion!" He poked the coyote's nose, grinning up at him. “Impugn my honor again, and I shall poke you a second time!"

“No, sir, please!" Argos clapped a hand to his muzzle. “Have mercy!"

“You'd best be on your best behavior then, sir!" Rivi glowered up at him, then flicked his ears back. “Oh, I said best twice. That's not the best grammar. Damn it, I did it! Oh, and now I've sworn again. It's a good thing I'm sure already damned to hell for cuddling a handsome coyote, or I may be worried about my sudden streak of foul language."

Argos yipped laughter, shaking his head. “You know, Spots. I honestly can't tell if this is you feeling more comfortable already, or just the alcohol. Cause you ain't had that much, but…" He looked the cheetah's over. Laying down, Rivi's gold and silver clothing accentuated his slender form. “You also look like you don't weigh much more than a moderately sized stick, so it probably don't take much."

“That, Sir!" Rivi slowly stretched his arm, reaching towards the coyote's face again. “Earns a second poke!" He poked the coyote's nose. “I'll have you know I weight at least as much as a large stick!"

“I dunno about that, Spots. But…" Argos leaned closer, till Rivi's breath tickled at his whiskers. “I'd bet you have a large stick."

Rivi chirruped musical feline giggles, his spotted tail twitching against the back of the sofa. “Then expect to be disappointed, sir!"

That only made Argos laugh harder. Happy as he was that Rivi took his joke as it was intended, he didn't want the feline to think he had ill intentions for the evening. He pulled his head back, just to avoid giving either of them the temptation of a sudden, impulsive kiss. Not that he didn't want to kiss the cheetah. But if it ever happened, he wanted to be damn sure Rivi was comfortable with it, beforehand. And he sure as hell didn't want the cheetah kissing him whilst under the influence of alcohol, however low it may be, lest Rivi regret his actions the next day.

“Whatever you got is plenty, Spots." Argos worked his arm around the cheetah, glancing down at him for permission. When Rivi nodded, Argos draped his arm over the feline's chest, gently rubbing him in little circles. “Don't make no difference to me."

Rivi hesitantly lifted his own hand, then gently set it atop Argos's. “Honestly, I've no idea how it compares to other felines. I assume it's at least of nearly adequate statue, by comparison to the reproductive anatomy of other male cheetahs. But I don't know that for certain…" He trailed off, blinking to himself. “I really shouldn't be talking about this, should I?"

Argos chuckled. “Up to you. Probably a bit more information than you really wanna hand out, though. Hold on…" He leaned across the cheetah, and picked up one of the bottles. Argos scanned the label, then grunted. “Oh, well, that explains one thing. I think you're officially drunk, Spots. Turns out, these are double strength!"

Rivi bolted upright so fast he nearly headbutted Argos in the chin. “What?"

Argos jerked his head out of the way just in time. “Case in point, you nearly knocked me in the jaw."

The cheetah sucked in a horrified gasp. He turned to cradle Argos's muzzle in his hands. “Oh, my apologies! I'm terribly sorry, are you alright? Are you unharmed?"

“M'fine, Spots," Argos said, his voice muffled by Rivi's grasp.

“And…" Rivi's eyes shifted to the sight of his own black-spotted beige hands clutching Argos's tan muzzle. “Now I'm holding your face, without my gloves on." He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don't tell anyone I did that."

Argos grinned as he reached up to gently remove the cheetah's hands from his face. He was careful not to touch Rivi's pads with his own. “Your secret is safe with me, Spots. But, in light of this new revelation about your hard-drinking ways, I think we should get you into bed."

Rivi stared at him. “But I'm already in bed. I sleep on the sofa, remember?"

“Yes, Spots, I remember." Argos laughed again. He eased up to his feet, releasing the cheetah's hands. “I meant, you should go to sleep."

“Oh, of course…" Rivi rubbed his face. “You're probably right, Argos. Though I was having a very pleasant evening."

“Me too, Spots." Argos picked up the bottles, including the one that wasn't quite finished. Rivi had clearly had enough, he thought. He tucked them under an arm, then picked up their empty water glasses, as well. “We can do this again tomorrow, though. And if you're still feeling cuddly when you're sober, I'd be more than happy to let you lay against me while we go through your next photo album."

Rivi smiled up at the coyote. “I should like that very much, I think." His ears went flat. “I hope my sudden inebriation hasn't ruined your evening."

“Not in the least!" Argos took the bottles and glasses over to the bar. He set them aside, and poured two glasses full of drinking water. “And it wasn't that sudden. I could see it creeping up on you a bit there, at the end. I just assumed you were even more of a lightweight than you are." He glanced over his shoulder. “No offense."

Rivi held his thumb and finger a tiny distance apart. “Only a fraction of offense taken."

“Well, allow me to offer you a fraction of an apology, then." Argos carried the water back to him. “My fault, really. I probably shoulda checked the bottles first. I'd ordered some Imperial lagers and stouts for myself before, and they probably just saw the room number and thought that's what you wanted." Argos handed him a glass. “Here, drink this."

Rivi took it, peering into the cup. “That's not beer."

Argos chuckled. “No, it's water. Trust me on this, Spots. You're gonna drink two glasses before you sleep. And I'll get you two more, after that. Whenever you wake up to piss, and you will-"

“I rather need the washroom already, actually." Rivi scrunched his muzzle, standing up. “If you'd excuse me?"

Argos tapped the glass in the cheetah's hand. “Drain this, first. Then you can drain everything else."

“Oh, very well." Rivi downed the entire glass of water, then set it down. “Back in a moment."

The coyote watched Rivi walk to the bathroom, just to make sure he wasn't too wobbly on his feet. The cheetah didn't look unsteady, nor did he sway around at all. Rivi probably wasn't that drunk, but he also knew the feline wasn't used to inebriation, in general. Argos wanted to keep a close eye on him until he was certain Rivi would be alright on his own for the night. Rivi soon returned, drying his hands on a plush green washcloth with golden tassles. Argos was pretty sure it was decorative, rather than meant to be used, but he decided against telling the feline.

Rivi went around the side of the couch, fetching his pillows and blankets. “Give me a moment to make the bed, if you would."

“Let me do that," Argos said, putting a hand on Rivi's shoulder. “You just busy yourself drinking this water. You don't gotta down it all in one go, or anything. Don't wanna make yourself sick."

“If you insist." Rivi took the water, then sank into one of the padded chairs near the bed. “This is only going to make me get up to urinate again, you know."

Argos spread the sheets out over the sofa, tucking them under the cushions. “Trust me, Spots. The beer's gonna do that anyway, so-"

“We shouldn't say 'urinate' in polite company, Rivi!" Rivi sipped his water, then hissed at himself. “Oh, we've done it again! Quite saying 'urinate', Rivi!" Rivi waved his free hand. “We're trying, but now its in our head!"

Argos smoothed the sheets, then fetched the blankets. He flicked them open, and cast them across the sofa. “Don't worry about it, Rivi. I think you know by now that I'm hardly polite company."

“Yes, Rivi, we've heard Argos say all sorts of foul things." Rivi took another drink. “He's a regular poet of profanity!"

Argos laughed as he retrieved Rivi's pillows. “Oh, I can get way more creative with it. This is me being restrained for your sake." He set the pillows at the end of the sofa. “Alright, bed is made." He settled down into another chair across from Rivi. “You should probably crawl into it as soon as you're done with that water."

Rivi took a longer gulp of water, then glanced down at himself. “In my clothes?"

Argos shrugged. “In whatever you want. I can leave, if you wanna get changed into pajamas, or something. I'm just trying to make sure you get into bed alright."

“Thank you, Argos," Rivi said, staring at the floor. His ears drooped. “Though I feel as I've forced you to babysit me, again."

Argos waved him off. “Don't worry about, Spots." He picked up the last of his whiskey, and drained the glass, then set it aside. “Let's just agree that we'll both pay closer attention to how much alcohol you've had in the future, huh?"

“Very well…" Rivi slowly lifted his head, looking towards Argos's empty glass. “You certainly don't seem to have any trouble with it."

“I got a lot more practice than you," Argos said, circling a finger around the top of his vessel. “Truth be told, I probably drink more than I oughta." He grimaced, scratching a tuft of fur on his neck. “Ain't like a problem, or nothing. But don't mean I ain't aware I oughta cut back. Shit just gets stressful, and this…" He picked up the empty glass, waggling. “Helps me relax." The coyote set it back down. “I don't touch a drop when I'm on missions, though. Can't do the shit Iosa and I do without clear judgement and steady hands."

“No, I should imagine not." Rivi rolled his cup back and forth between his hands. “So, if those beers were double strength, does that mean I've essentially drank four lagers, in the span of two?"

Argos nodded. “Basically. You drank 'em slow, though, or it would have hit you a lot harder."

Rivi took another long pull, then wiped his muzzle with the back of a hand. “I've never had four beers in a row, before."

Argos grinned at him. “Is your head spinning?"

“No…" Rivi tilted his head back and forth as if trying to test it. “I don't think so."

The coyote circled a finger in the air. “And is the room spinning around you?"

The cheetah shook his head. “Not currently."

“You'll probably avoid the pukes, then. And hopefully, the hangover." He waved at the cheetah's water. “Just make sure you finish that. Before I leave you to sleep, I'll get you two more glasses. Keep drinking them whenever you wake up overnight, alright?"

Rivi drew his tail across his lap with his free hand, idly ruffling his own fur. “Very well. Thank you for the advice, Argos."

“Least I can do." Argos tucked his hands behind his head, leaning it back. “You ever been this drunk before?"

Rivi rubbed his tail again, ears splayed in thought. “A few times, I think, but that's all. Once, when I was accepted to my Scholar's position at the library, and my sister and her companions took me out to celebrate. And, one with Fafren and some locals, when they took us to a tavern in some quaint little city in the mountains. They kept passing around tiny glasses of drink, and by the time I'd had three of them I realized I'd already had two too many."

Argos laughed at that, shaking his head. “Yeah, that'll do it." He glanced towards Rivi's suitcases. “You got any night clothes you want me to get out, for you?"

“That would be wonderful, thank you." Rivi pointed towards a case. “Number four. There should be a folded pair of pajamas in there, a nightshirt and sleeping pants. They're lilac and silver. Those would be nice, thank you."

Argos rose up and went to the indicated luggage. He opened it up, and gently moved aside neatly stacked and folded garments until he found the ones Rivi wanted. He took them out, and held them up for Rivi's inspection. The cheetah nodded. Argos closed the case, and carried the clothing back to Rivi.

“Here you go." Argos set the clothes down on Rivi's lap. “You want me to vanish for a minute?"

“No, I'll go to the washroom again." Rivi put his cup aside, then stood. “Won't be a moment."

Again, Argos watched the cheetah carefully to make sure Rivi wasn't too unsteady on his feet. When he was satisfied Rivi was alright, he went back to the bar area and poured himself a glass of water. He drank half of it, and made a mental note to send in a request to have their supply refilled in the morning. Though the ship was going to be under water rations for a while, due to the extra passengers, Argos doubted he'd have trouble keeping their own supply of drinking water topped off.

Rivi soon remerged wearing his sleeping clothes. They were mostly shades of lilac and other light purples, with silver swirls down the sleeves and pants legs. Argos had to admit, the flowing, feline-style sleeping garments did look quite comfortable. They looked both warm and soft, without being too clinging. Tighter clothing against the fur could be uncomfortable for sleeping, he found. Rivi folded his previous clothing up, and stacked them atop one of his suit cases.

“Does the ship have laundry services?" The cheetah glanced at Argos before picking up his water. He scrunched his face. “Of course they do, Rivi, what a silly question."

The coyote chuckled. “Yes, Spots. We can get your clothes cleaned." He returned to the cheetah's makeshift and gently pulled down the blankets and upper sheet for him. “You should finish your water, and get into bed, if you're ready." Then he held up a hand. “I ain't tryin' to boss you. You can always lounge in bed and read a book or something, if you like. Just wanna make sure you're safe, is all."

Rivi put a hand on Argos's arm, squeezing it gently. “I appreciate it." He glanced down, his tail swishing behind him. “And again, I apologize if-"

“Stop." Argos patted Rivi's hand, still on his arm. “You ain't got nothing to apologize for. Hell, I was up late last night, and early this morning. So, I'm about ready for bed myself."

“If you say so." Rivi smiled, and then finished the last of his water with a flourish. “All gone!"

“Good job, Spots." Argos took the cup from him. “I'll get you some more for later, if you get into bed."

“Very well, My Lord!" Rivi gave a mock bow. “I shallst do as thou commands." He spun away so swiftly his brushed against Argos, sliding across him in an especially intimate manner.

The coyote shivered, gritting his teeth. He couldn't tell if Rivi had done that on purpose or not, and so he decided simply not to mention it. Instead, he just turned around, and went to refill Rivi's drinking vessels. By the time he returned with two full glasses of water, the cheetah was already snuggled into his bed, with the blankets up around his shoulders. He smiled up at the coyote.

Rivi turned his head on the pillow to smile up at the coyote. “Thank you for a very pleasant day today, Argos."

“Same to you, Spots." Argos set the glasses down, then gestured at the cheetah's face. “You still got your spectacles on."

“Oh…" Rivi scowled, sitting up. “Bother."

Argos held a hand out. “Just hand them to me. I'll put them wherever you want."

Rivi undid the band fastening them around his head, then removed his glasses. He passed them up to the coyote. “The other side of the table is fine. Just so if I knock over those water glasses in my inebriated stupor, they don't hit my spectacles and scratch up my lens."

“You're hardly in an inebriated stupor." Argos took them, careful to avoid touching Rivi's pads, and then set them where the cheetah wished. “More like, a strong buzz."

“Well, whatever the case," Rivi said, pulling the blankets back up to his shoulders. “I think I shall endeavor to sleep it off now, lest I should embarrass myself further. Would you be so kind as to get the lights?"

“Of course, Spots." Argos gestured at the water. “Don't forget, try to get through-"

“Unless you'd like make use of the bar, or the desk?" Rivi lifted his head again. “I don't mean to chase you out of your own cabin. I can just pull the blankets over my head if you need the lights on."

Argos only chuckled. “Nah, I'm going to bed too." He quickly moved around the room, extinguishing lights, if only to prevent further argument from the cheetah. “Good night, Spots."

“Good night, Argos." Rivi sounded half-asleep already."

Argos briefly considered meeting up with Iosa for a nightcap, but decided against it. Truth be told, the coyote knew he needed the rest, as well. It sure as hell wouldn't do him any harm to take advantage of an early night and actually catch up on his sleep. He carried his own drinking water into his cabin, turned on a lamp, and then set his water down next to it.

The coyote dug out a clean pair of sleeping pants, and laid them out on his bed. In honesty, they were more for Rivi's modesty than his own. The coyote was perfectly content to sleep in the nude, but he didn't want Rivi to see him that way if the cheetah needed something in the middle of the night. For Argos, such an incident would be only a minor, momentary embarrassment. But for Rivi, he feared the poor cat's brain might explode if he suddenly caught an inadvertent eyeful of coyote equipment.

Argos went into the bathroom through the door on his side. He locked the other door, just to ensure Rivi didn't accidentally walk in while he was showering, for the same reasons. Not that Argos would have minded too much, but he damn sure didn't want Rivi to end up painfully uncomfortable and embarrassed. Argos dug out his own fur shampoo, and a clean towel, then turned on the hot water.

Now that they were in the air, water restrictions were in effect. He hoped that by showering tonight, he could squeeze it in under the current day's rationing. That way, Rivi would have time for a slightly longer shower in the morning, should he wish it. When the water was nearly warm enough, Argos stripped out of his clothing. He clambered into the shower, closing the glass door behind himself.

Argos quickly worked the fur shampoo from his head to his feet, and out across his tail. He was used to having to shower in a hurry, while on missions. Hell, he thought, half the time he was activated he'd be lucky to manage to make a quick dip in a muddy lake, much less an actual shower. It made the times spent in a safe house or in a hotel posing as a regular traveler that much more enjoyable. At least, when the safe houses had hot water.

As soon as he'd worked the lather all through his fur, Argos rinsed himself off again. He turned around a few times in the hot water, working his hands through his fur. The coyote faced away from the faucet, letting the water pour through his tail. He wrung it out a few times until the water running through it was clear of foam, then turned back to the spigot. Argos washed his face last, then rinsed himself one final time before turning the water off. He remained in the shower a few moments longer, running hands down his fur to wring some of the water out.

Before he got out, Argos glanced at the drain filter. There was a bit of fur in it already. He pulled the filter free, and stepped out of the shower with. Argos cleaned out the fur and dropped it into a wastebasket. Though the ship's janitors and maintenance crew were generally responsible for things like cleaning out the fur filtration from showers, and ventilation ducts, the coyote preferred to make their jobs just a little easier whenever possible. Once the filter was mostly clean, he put it back in the shower drain.

Argos washed his hands in the sink. It was probably overkill, he realized, but he saw nothing wrong with washing up after handling a shower drain. Wouldn't do him much good to clean up the rest of his body for bed, but leave who-knows-what upon his fingers. He fetched a towel and spent a few minutes toweling off his fur. Their cabin did possess electric dryers for fur, but Argos found himself uncomfortable with the idea of handling electrical devices whilst sopping wet. Besides, it wasn't as if he was in a hurry.

When his fur had progressed from wet to merely damp, he unlocked the bathroom door for Rivi, then retreated back to his own room. He tossed his own dirty clothes into a pile near his closest, resolving to have his laundry washed whenever Rivi did the same. Hopefully, the cheetah's more fastidious habits would rub off on him. Or at the very least, remind him of things like getting his damn clothes washed before he was completely out of clean things to wear.

Argos tossed the towel over a chair, and put on his sleeping pants. Unlike Rivi's vibrantly hued garments, the coyote's nighttime attire was simply slate gray. He buttoned the loop at the back over his tail, then fetched the magazine he'd bought earlier. Argos carried it and his water back to the bed. He set the water next to his bedside lamp, and climbed into the bed. The expansive mattress was soft and ever so comfortable, it's sheets and blankets like warm silk and down-filled extravagance. Argos imagined he could have opened the doors to the balcony and let the snow blow in, and he'd still be warm beneath the comforter.

The coyote paged through his new magazine. He read a few articles about new handgun models, another about a barrel-rifling technique being experimented on in the name of increased accuracy, and then one about a famous, big-city designer's new line of vests, and jackets. Finally, Argos enjoyed a satirical article about using explosive ammunition rounds for hunting purposes. The author claimed they were perfect for making stews, as only stew-size chunks of his quarry remained. The coyote had a good laugh at that one, before finally putting his magazine aside.

Argos turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He settled down against the pillow, and pulled up the blankets. Argos closed his eyes. Fatigue pressed against him, heavier even than the thick comforter. And yet, slumber proved elusive quarry. First, his pants made his legs itch. Argos wasn't even sure why. He was long accustomed to the feeling of clothing pressed against his fur. It didn't bother him during the day, so why should it prove troublesome at night? And even if his body were simply used to sleeping in the nude, how did having pajamas on different from having blankets and sheets pressed to his fur? Eventually, the itching subsided, and his fur adjusted to being shifted about by rustling clothing.

Yet then, just as he was starting to drift off, his mind wandered. First, it turned towards Iosa. He wasn't supposed to be meeting her tonight, was he? He didn't think so, but if he accidentally stood her up, he could expect an extra throat punch in their next sparring match. Then, Argos's thoughts shifted to Rivi. He hoped the cat wasn't going to be hung over in the morning. He doubted it, but there was no way of knowing.

He also sure as hell hoped Rivi wouldn't regret how cuddly and affectionate he'd been. The memories of Rivi's head upon first his shoulder, and then his chest left him smiling so much his cheeks ached. It had been a long time since Argos found anyone quite this enthralling right from the get go. And he still didn't truly know why. Argos told himself, some things just were. Maybe there was no reason he found Rivi so fascinating. Maybe he just did, and that was that. His smile faded a moment later. Iosa was right. Rivi was gonna break his damn heart.

“No," Argos said aloud, his voice a murmur. “Don't blame Rivi. It ain't his fault. It's yours, Argos." He snorted. “Damn it, now I'm talking like him."

Argos sighed, rolling onto his side. So what if the end of this journey broke his heart? Heartbreak only meant that there was happiness, once. It was something to celebrate, not fear. If there had not been joy, or love, then neither would there be no sorrow, or loss. And no matter what happened on this journey, he'd always have his memories with that odd, yet delightful little cheetah. Besides, Argos told himself, he should relish the heartbreak, if it happened.

It meant he still had a heart to break.

Despite all the horrible things he'd seen, all the terrible acts he'd committed for the Guild, at least they hadn't hollowed him out inside. Then again, given his line of work, Argos wondered if he even deserved love. Deserved to be loved. Rivi sure as hell deserved to fall in love with someone better than Argos, that was for damn sure. Not that Argos expected Rivi to do anything of the sort.

Argos rolled to his other side, gritting his teeth. So this was why he rarely tried to go to bed earlier. For some reason, his stupid brain always decided that this was the time to go over every little worry and regret he'd ever had. The coyote contemplated sneaking back into the main living space to grab the bottle of whiskey. If nothing else, he could drink himself into slumber. He quickly dismissed it. After all, he'd only just told Rivi he was trying to cut back. Besides, drunken slumber was often the least restful of all.

The coyote decided to focus on his breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. He'd been trained in all manner of combat techniques, and those included such seemingly miniscule things as breathing exercises. To stay calm in battle, to control his body and regulate it's needs no matter how hectic or stressful a situation. Let the others exhaust themselves, while the coyote acted with cold precision, and steady, even breathing. Whether his weapons were his fists, his pistols, or he was taking a long-range shot, the principals were the same.

Focusing on such things often helped him sleep when nothing else would. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Argos repeated the simple mantra in his head with every breath until at least he was staring to doze off. And then, just as it was finally working, the photograph of Rivi's father appeared in his head, adorned in his blue and silver sashes.

Argos sat upright, snarling to himself. “Fuck. Why'd it have to be blue and silver? Coulda been any other fucking color…" He glanced towards his closet. “Don't do it."

Argos swung his feet out of the bed. The air was cold against his pads. “Seriously. Don't do it. You're only gonna regret it."

The coyote didn't know why he was talking to himself. Maybe Rivi was rubbing off on him. Or maybe he did that more often when he was alone than he realized. He stared at the closed door. There were answers inside, if he wished to find them. Yet Argos knew clear as day that the only thing those answers would bring him, was regret. And just as clearly, he knew that sooner or later he was going to go digging for them anyway.

“Fuck." Argos ran his hands over his ears, sighing. “Might as well get this over with."

Argos rose from bed. He went to his door, and cracked it open, just to make sure Rivi was asleep. The soft snores emanating from the sofa were all the evidence he needed. He closed the door again, then locked it. Argos turned on a few lights, and went to the closet. He opened the double doors, revealing a large walk-in space that was mostly filled with a plethora of hard-shelled gun and ammunition cases, along with other important items he and Iosa were transporting.

The coyote took his time moving things aside until he had a pathway deeper into the closest. Further in the back, there were more secretive devices still. Argos possessed several highly advanced and powerful radio transmitters, capable of piggybacking off other radio transmissions. Guild members like himself were given permanent permissions by Black Star to share their transmission frequencies as needed, to send and receive their own coded messages. Argos's Guild communications equipment was also capable of sending, receiving, and even printing radiophotos, among other functions. Iosa had her own set of communications equipment.

Where Argos's gear was packed away, Iosa's was kept turned on and activated at all times, just in case of sudden emergency transmissions, or important new instructions. One team member was required to be available to receive orders at all times on long voyages like this. It just so happened that Iosa had already volunteered. That worked out well, it meant Argos could keep his gear packed away while sharing his cabin with Rivi.

There were plenty more cases filled with Guild secrets at the back of the closet, as well. Argos selected one of them, a metallic case painted dark green, with gray diagonal lines. The emblem of the Guild of Ghosts and Shadows was emblazoned upon it in shining silver, and deepest black. Argos moved the case to his bed, and set it down. A series of dials, some with numbers and some with symbols, made up three different combination locks. He quickly input all three combinations, and the case popped open.

Inside were a number of leatherbound books set into padded enclosures. The case continued several tiers, and Argos pulled them free, they unfolded into a sort of staircase, with books displayed on each small level. The coyote quickly scanned them for the one he was looking for. Each book bore The Guild's logo on the spine, and a simple title referencing the country, or organization that the book contained information on. His heart thumped in growing uncertainty when he spotted the title he needed.

The Church Of The Divine Weaver.

Argos pulled it free, sighing to himself. “You are gonna regret this, you big, dumb, dog."

The coyote went to the desk at the other end of his room. He set the book down, turned on the lamp, and the settled into the desk chair. Argos flipped it open. The first page contained only a simple warming. This book and all material herein is legally restricted to the eyes of Guild Agents of Ghost-tier, or higher. Argos, of course, was higher. The second page bore similar warnings. This book is legally considered property of the Guild of Ghosts and Shadows. If found by non-Guild operatives, you are legally required to turn it into the nearest authorities immediately. Possession of such materials otherwise is punishment both legally, and financially. Additional severe punishments may apply. Argos chuckled to himself. He'd always considered that page to mean, 'in other words, don't fuck with our shit.'

Argos flipped through the book. Among other things, it contained an exhaustive list of all known and suspected members of the hierarchies of both the Church and Government of the feline homeland. Though they were technically separate entities, Rivi's homeland was a theocracy in everything but name. The Church controlled their ministries, selected their ministers, and decided what laws would come to pass, and which would not. On an operational level, they were deeply, and intricately entwined. Case in point, that bastard of an archbishop that Iosa and Argos had been assigned to remove. He'd been both one of the higher ranking members of the Church, and also the leader of one of their most powerful ministries.

“Last chance to back out," Argos said, skimming through the early pages. Pictures of felines in robes, military uniforms, and religious vestments filled them, along with information about their positions, their responsibilities, their histories, families, known vices, weaknesses, and on and on. “You know you ain't gonna like it."

That was an understatement, Argos thought. And yet, he also knew he had to find out. If nothing else, his position as an Orphan-tier operative meant he had to know. He could have ignored it, if he hadn't seen those damn sashes. But now, he had to know exactly who's son he was sharing a cabin with. Argos flipped through page after page, quickly rising through the ranks of the feline Church and Government hierarchies. By the time he'd reached higher rankings and more important titles, they were organized first by Church, then by Ministry rankings. Argos wasn't' entirely sure the system made sense, but the idea was that if an operative needed to know who the second highest ranking member of the Ministry of Travel was, he could flip to that section. If he was looking for a bishop, he could start at the Church hierarchy section.

Truth was, Argos already knew that he could skip over most of the Ministries. The color scheme of the sashes told there were only three possibilities. None of them were good, but one was worse than the others. Argos grit his teeth, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart. He skipped a few sections, then froze when he spotted a different familiar face staring back at him. Text above the image identified him.

Arch-Bishop Tovarakaras. Beneath it, Argos had already written in addition text.

DECEASED.

Several pages of information about the former arch-bishop followed. Included was his entire personal history with the Church, and his appointment to various positions as both a bishop, and an officer in various ministries, culminating with being named the feline's most recent Minister of Vice. Despite the relatively benign sounding name, the Church's Ministry of Vice was perhaps their most powerful Ministry of all. Among other things, they controlled their notorious secret police. They were mostly run by bishops and those who worked hand in hand with the Church. As such, they exerted tremendous sway and influence over even the other Ministers and their respective offices.

For years, that sadistic archbishop held the feline's entire secret police force at his own back and call. Not to mention, through his office, he was responsible for the sorts of so-called reeducation camps that people didn't always return from. His list of atrocities would have filled every damn book in the case sitting on Argos's bed. The Coyote would have spat on him, if the Guild wouldn't have been so pissed at him for spitting on their book. Additional addendums indicated what other sections Tovarakaras was listed in, including of course, the portion about the Ministry of Vice.

Argos stared at the book. The Ministry of Vice was one of the three who anointed their highest-ranking officials with blue and silver sashes. Argos considered checking it last. With any luck, he'd discover Rivi's father listed with some other, slightly less terrifying agency. The Ministry of Law and Justice also used blue and silver, as did the Ministry of War. He started to turn towards the Ministry of Law, then heaved a sigh. Somehow, in his sinking heart, he already knew.

“Fuck it." Argos paged to the Ministry of Vice. “Let's get this with over with."

On the first page was another picture of Arch-Bishop Tovarakaras. Once again, Argos had manually updated his information to include his deceased status. Much more information followed, including his role at the ministry, his hand in the construction of reeducation camps, his efforts to pull an already restrictive religion into even more dangerous waters, and on and on. But Argos wasn't interested in that, right now. He knew all about that fucker, and all the sins he hide behind his veil of righteousness. Argos flipped past him. All he needed to know right now was-

“Oh, fuck."

There, on the very next page, was Rivi's father. Even after seeing the photograph for only moments, Argos recognized his stern glare, the pattern of spots, the judgement in his eyes. Argos's hands trembled as he read the cheetah's name, and title.

Deputy Minister of Vice, Reniramir.

“Deputy…" Argos could scarcely form words. This was even worse than he'd feared. “Deputy Minister…"

Of Vice.

No wonder he'd never treated Rivi right. No wonder he didn't accept his own son for who he was.

Worse still, that meant…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Argos put his head in his hands. That meant when Iosa and Argos put an end to the former Minister of Vice, they might well have handed the reins over to Rivi's father. Argos's throat tightened, hot and painful. Tears suddenly brimmed in the coyote's eyes. All at once, all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. “Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, Rivi."

*****

If you enjoyed the chapter, please click the FAVE button and leave a comment with your thoughts.