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Adventures of Dusty Yote

Chapter 3 - The Rat-King of Highwaymen

8187 words

The wounds were gone and the bruises had mostly disappeared within the week. Courtesy of his position within the Order, Dusty was able to take two days of relative ease and spent them helping to clean the Riverwood church alongside the acolytes. He bought some more ointment at the apothecary, attended to a few duties, then rubbed the ointment in and spent the remainder of the next few afternoons resting.

At the end of the week, Dusty was called up to see the head of the Riverwood church and the "matron" of the order: Deacon Angelica Haven. Deacon Haven was a lynx perhaps ten or more years older than Dusty, with soil-brown fur flecked with gray and covered in black spots and odd tufted ears, who frequently wore a black dress and habit as befitting women of the religious order. Deacon Haven was odd, being one of the few women in charge of a church in Irilian or the neighboring kingdom of Berne, but was also one of the few who had received what was believed to be a direct vision from the Creator herself.

In truth with the Order, Deacon Haven did very little except for logistics, care and upkeep of the compound and the registry and payments of the Order members, and it was mostly left to the tutelage and direction of Reverend John Hale. But it was often Haven who decreed whether or not a mission would be decreed and to whom it should go, mostly whenever she felt she needed to override the Reverend's choices. It had also been Haven who said the Order would send someone to join the Hunters' Guild, and after interviewing five candidates it was Haven who had cast the deciding vote saying that Dusty, the fourth candidate, would be the one to go. Dusty presumed that the Deacon would want an update on his first mission.

While there was an official office in the Order compound next to Riverwood's chapel, Deacon Haven mostly kept herself to the sacristy of the chapel. It was here that Dusty was called to meet with her, and after gaining approval from one of the acolytes, Dusty entered and attended to the lynx.

She smiled and had him sit down in one of the small bare wood chairs near her, and bid him explain his mission. Despite his own faith and reverence for the Deacon, Dusty admitted everything except for the last of his encounter with Bernard. He was truthful in his first meeting, the flare of strange energy, the harsh battle that had followed, and of Bernard's turn-about when Dusty had knocked his ax out of his hand. He did not explain his falling asleep to the powders and scents, nor of the pleasant sensations of it, merely stating that Bernard had gone away to think but that Dusty felt he had changed.

"I am pleased," Deacon Haven said gently when Dusty had finished. "You speak with a clear mind, and I see you are not adversely affected by it. My decision to send you over the others was right in placing."

"I should hope," Dusty said. "I have followed the Order's requisite of holy judgment, but also your preaching of forgiveness among those who are repentant. I have seen few so like Bernard in that latter aspect, the horror and realization apparent within him."

"Keep that in mind," Deacon Haven said. She sighed and shook her head. "Too often are those in your position eager to shed blood. While our Creator themselves said they came to bring not peace but a sword, many forget that She also rebuked those who showed violence. Remember that the sword and shield that you carry are to be used for defense and protection, and to only act when the situation has flared out of your hand otherwise."

Dusty nodded. "If you do not mind me asking, Miss Haven, is there a particular reason why me? I am sure that one of the other candidates were better than I was, either in combat or in power."

Deacon Haven reached a paw up and clutched the symbol of the star-and-cross pendant, the emblem of the church, on her breast. She closed her eyes for a moment as though praying, then spoke. "I cannot fully explain it yet. But know this: my decision was determined not by the strategies you showed nor your power, but by your faith and heart. Some will only listen to power, and thus you must be able to show you are one to be listened to. But it is also a skill to know when to draw your sword and when to sheathe it, when one is receptive enough to listen to more than simple power."

Dusty nodded. "One more question: Brother Thomas gave me a spell that seems powerful, and yet above what I may be able to do. I must ask whether or not it was correctly given or else meant for emergencies."

"Much like anything else," Deacon Haven said, head still bowed as though praying, "I entrusted it to you for a reason, as did I instruct Brother Thomas over others to relinquish and explain it. There are few who could use it, and even among our Order, there are few who believe it can be done." The lynx suddenly looked up at Dusty and smiled, warmth showing even in the gray of her eyes. "But do not despair. Hope and faith are stronger forces than most realize. And so, I believe that you will recognize when the time and strength to use it comes."

Dusty nodded. "You leave me with honestly more questions than answers."

"The Creator will give those answers in time. For now, know this: the Creator has blessed your endeavors, that you may hopefully see what She needs you to see. You have already experienced the corruption once. Watch for the signs and patterns of things you should be following, and go wither they should lead you with open mind and heart." Deacon Haven stood up and held out her paw. Dusty took it and the lynx drew him gently upwards. "Not all mysterious things are dark and evil; some are merely without their context, and we can only find that once we take in all of the Creator's design to see the larger picture."

Dusty got the sense that it was time to go. He put a hand to his chest and bowed to the Deacon. "Of course. Thank you for answering as you were able. Should you like me to report to you again after the others?"

"I have asked Guildmaster Radan to keep me informed. Should there be something I feel need explanation or expanded on, I will make the call. But otherwise, continue as you are and I shall have no regrets."

Despite the confusing nature of the last comments, Dusty felt reassured. The Deacon had approved of his handling and gave confirmation of his purposefully receiving the Restoration scroll. As to whether it would come it useful, Dusty would have to wait and see. He headed back home for a final day of rest before reporting back to his normal duties.

---

Three days after his meeting with Deacon Haven he was back to normal, and was already taking on his guard duties while he waited for the next summons from the Guild.

Dusty lived comfortably enough in a small house that was provided by the church towards Riverwood's market center. He had a living area with stone fireplace, and two walled-off rooms that he had converted into some extra storage and a bedroom. It was furnished with a small stipend he received for being in the Order and occasionally going on town guard duty or else to sorties such as his commander required. His home taken care of, most of his money went to books and he had a few shelves' worth in his living room. In his bedroom lay a few tokens of his Order, including a gifted Bible from his entry and a few small religious tokens.

It was only a week and a half after his last encounter that Dusty was once again summoned to the Riverwood Beast Hunters' Guild, once again with a letter saying he was to come at his earliest convenience. At first, Dusty had expected punishment to be doled out, but upon entering the establishment, Guildmaster Radan had taken Dusty's paw and shook it vigorously.

"The logging foremen report that they have seen no further sign of the skunk at all," he said. "A miracle considering the aroma he used to produce was so evident they knew he was coming from nearly a mile away. Furthermore, some of them seem to corroborate the story of the reptilian figure you passed to us. So the information on both ends is legitimate after all!"

"Then that is distressing if this one is as dangerous as the skunk supposed," Dusty replied, not at all comforted by the news. "Do you wish me to go and find this serpent then?"

"No," Radan said. "I have some of our Trackers investigating this first to get more information. I have only found out enough to make sure you were telling the truth. Before we can send a Hunter out to take it down, we must first rely on the use of the Trackers to find out where it us, what its targets usually are, and maybe even why."

"Fair enough. But I assume you have more to say if you called me in so urgently. Was there a problem with the Guild higher-ups?"

"No, no, quite the opposite. They noted this was precisely why you were selected, someone who can handle things a bit more delicately. The church, you see, was starting to complain about 'indiscriminate killing'. After a few letters flying back and forth, we not only decided to let the decision with Bernard stand, but to qualify it as a success. And may we have more such successes from you!"

"I am happy to be a representative of the church," Dusty said, bowing. "Yet I am at your service as well. Let me know what needs done, and I shall endeavor to enact my tenants to it to the best of my ability!"

"Very good. Now, let me head over to our room and grab the particular file I was thinking of..."

Dusty waited while Guildmaster Radan looked over his parchments and folders. Interestingly, "earliest convenience" meant this conversation was now happening in the late afternoon. The light outside was beginning to turn golden and there was the sound of bells as the townspeople left their employments and headed to the markets to buy food. Not quite the time that Dusty had expected to do business with the guildmaster.

It wasn't long before Radan had returned with a small stack of parchment. He laid the information out on the table sorted through some of the papers before finding the one he wanted.

"Speaking of needing someone with a touch of delicacy for sensitive matters," Radan said, "I have such a case that has been laid on me recently."

He put down the sketch of a rat. It had a surprisingly handsome face; the nose was slightly broader than a normal rat's, the ears a little darker and fuzzier. A few extra tufts of black fur on the top were neatly combed into a small mohawk, an effect enhanced by the lighter fur as sideburns. The teeth were subdued with the larger mouth, and aside from what may have been darker fur around the eyes, the dark-gray face looked relatively clean. The head sat on broad shoulders that suggested a bit of muscle and had what to Dusty looked like overall pleasing proportions.

"This one right here is your next target," Radan said. "His name's Reeve Thomas. He actually used to be a Whitewater native and was known as a bit of a troublemaker. Picked fights, stole, tampered with things he shouldn't have tampered with, and had a general rough nature."

"So what happened to him?"

"Kept getting caught. Kept getting into trouble. Spent a bit of time in jail for his continued behavior, even. And then, for about a year, he just disappeared. We're not quite sure where he went off to. No family to speak of around here, no real friends, so we had no one to ask about him. Then we get reports of a highwayman who keeps targeting people on the road between here and Whitewater. And the descriptions fit a lot like this Reeve Thomas, with a few exceptions."

"He's become one of the beats, then," Dusty said. "But how?"

"That's something we're still trying to figure out," Radan said. "He doesn't give up his secrets very easily, and he's basically gone full rogue. We believe he went out, got himself into more trouble, and one of the few ways he could come back was to become a beast. So he sets up the highwayman gig and starts using his newfound powers. He makes up a checkpoint to stop people and find new targets, and takes revenge on being caught so many times by stealing things from them outside the Whitewater jurisdiction."

"So they're pretty sure it's him. Why does no one pursue him?"

"That's where it gets delicate." Radan searched and pulled out two more sheets. "We have a list of his recent targets as a summary; he's close enough to us they come and file a report with the guard here. Let me describe a recent cases for an example."

---

Radan gave the first sheet to Dusty to peruse while he spoke.

"This one describes the account of one George Strait, a saluki merchant. Owns a high-profile jewelry shop in Irilian capital and caters to high-class residents, though he's known for being a bit mean and conceited even to his own workers. He's attacked by a horde of rats under the command of Thomas, who forced the carriage Strait was riding in to stop. They picked out one of his guards, bound him, and took him off, in addition to not letting Strait continue until they had obtained the single most valuable piece of jewelry he carried and every coin he had on him at the time. The guard was found a few days later sickened and humiliated, presumably through magic draining, and a note that he would be targeted again if he was ever found doing more guard-work for Strait."

Radan gave Dusty a minute or so to look over the paper before handing him the second.

"This one concerns Anthony Raine, a fox, who was driving a covered buggy down the road from Whitewater to Riverwood. Once more, Reeve's men forced the buggy to stop and questioned who and what Raine was doing. Raine said he was a merchant heading to Riverwood to do business. They kept pressing Raine with questions, but found his answers unsatisfactory, and took both him and his cart back to their hideout. A day or so later, a bulletin came from Whitewater around someone who had pilfered quite a bit from local market stalls... with the exact description of Raine. Our guards went out to look for him on the roads, only to find Raine - somehow bound and unable to move through magical means - dropped off at the doorstep of our jail, and the cart of stolen goods heading back to Whitewater completely intact."

Radan let Dusty sit there a minute with the paper again.

"Now, what is striking you about these two cases?" the bull asked.

Dusty had to read through the case summaries a few times. "One is high-status and assured, one is lower-status and actively pilfers. But both seemed to be targeted for the same reasons: they're known for being bullies."

Radan nodded. "Strait is known for a high turnover rate because no one works for him long. Many of his workers say his hours are demanding or his pay is too low for such a high-ranking merchant, and have even taken up cases of exploitation against him. Raine is a burglar and a thief who tries to fence stolen goods by moving to another town. Considering we're on the road to the capital and little less than half a day's journey away from Whitewater, it could be considered easy enough pickings."

"So we are looking at someone who fancies himself a man of the people, so to speak," Dusty said. "But he has turned to ignoble methods of doing so if he has command of magic similar to the beasts."

"You see my thoughts exactly," Radan said. "If Reeve were just to target the burglars and force them to hand over the goods, we might have left him alone. But he makes enemies in high places by heading after the merchants even if they aren't very popular. And otherwise, he has his own brand of strange magic that makes people like the poor guard collateral damage in his rampage."

Dusty considered what he'd been told. "It seems to me like this Reeve must be performing some kind of vigilantism in exchange for what happened to him. I'm guessing that if one reads the Whitewater case reports most of Reeve's targets very much followed the same reasoning only to play the fool and accuse him first."

"That is what the Guild thinks. A review of the cases in Whitewater notes that the main reason Reeve got punished is because he would get accused of thievery, assault, or indecency and then wouldn't deny it. Only during the years of his absence was it discovered that most of the targets did far worse than the thing Reeve did in retribution. If this was brought to our attention earlier, we might have given him clemency. But now we have our hands tied if he's suddenly become a beast and using those caught in the crossfire as payment for the wrongs he views others having done."

"Where does the Guild have its hands tied, specifically? I understand the guard's point of view, but why do you want me specifically?"

"The town guard cannot arrest him because they are afraid of getting drained if left in proximity. They will not arrest him because most of his targets are the petty thieves they're trying to track down in the first place. What do they do, deny his help and make things worse or let him go and have others get caught who shouldn't? So the petition came from Whitewater to track him down and show him why he needs to stop."

"So the big question here is: how do we make it stop?"

"Our hope is that someone like you can go as a representative of the church and convince him against it. But to satisfy the merchants and the higher classes who want blood for him, we must come back with a portion of his ear or tail cut off. The Whitewater elite want corporal punishment for him, saying he was a troublemaker then, a fiend now, and needs to be dealt with. The town guard says 'yes, but he also has helped in catching far more criminals than we have your kind'. But that's the only way they'll accept it: blood for blood."

"I see. Is there perhaps someone who could give me a good assessment of the situation?"

"Head out to the east this evening until you just leave the city behind. You'll meet one of our Trackers there who knows where Reeve's hideout is. Follow her to get a lay of the land and discuss how you may want to approach it. He's well-guarded, but the Tracker may have clues as to how to get in without getting yourself hurt in the process."

---

The sun had touched the horizon by the time Dusty had left the city to go meet the Tracker. He felt reinvigorated as he walked. The week of rest was needed and he felt better after the ordeal with Bernard. Now he was confirmed to continue his work with the Guild and approved for missions of a delicate nature. Despite the late hour, the coyote felt energized and walked out to meet the Tracker in high spirits.

Not that Bernard had made him feel terrible. In the days following his encounter, Dusty still felt no signs of a magic-draining sickness despite his own encounter with one who might have truly been a "beast". Quite the opposite, actually: he slept better, woke better, felt better, and his mind felt clearer. It was as though some of his tension had been drawn away after having been stuck and repressed for so long. He still preferred not to have a direct encounter like that again, but he couldn't deny there had been some benefit to it.

What was the difference, he wondered, between a fine experience like that and a full magic draining that made one ill? Did such a magic-draining power even exist at all? And what could be the origin of such a technique? He would have to check a library, perhaps in the guild hall or with the church, to see if they had any answers.

Just before the city faded away entirely, Dusty found a lone mouse standing beside the road. She wore a green cloak over brown shirt and pants and fur, and had the symbol of the Guild in silver as the clasp for the cloak. Otherwise, she had a bow and quiver of arrows, and a short sword at her side. She was small, perhaps a whole head or two shorter than Dusty, but came up and held a paw out for him to shake.

"You're the Hunter that Radan assigned to Reeve, yes?" she chirped. "My name is Julienne. I'm a Tracker for the Guild and I've been monitoring the hideout for a few weeks now."

"Yes, my name is Dusty Yote. I was told to come out and meet you. I assume you are able to give me information on Reeve?"

"Yes, but let us go quickly. There is a small hill that will both give us a vantage point and be a better place to talk than here."

The mouse scampered off to the north-east. Dusty followed and soon they came upon a large green hill with a few rocks scattered around the top. They climbed as the sun began to descend and Dusty made sure to stay low as they reached the rocks. A few made a nice little crevasse close to the top that Julienne ducked into, and Dusty followed.

Julienne said nothing for a moment as they settled themselves down. She pulled out a bronze spyglass and carefully extended it before she peered through a small divot in one of the rocks. She scanned the landscape for a while before giving off a small squeak and passing the eyeglass over to Dusty.

"Here. Set this in the divot and look almost directly east. Find the ruins there; we have come at a good time. I can explain while you look."

Julienne and Dusty traded positions and Dusty took the spyglass. He roved around the area for a few moments before finding the ruins. It appeared to be an old fort with the walls mostly intact and a couple of watchtowers still remaining. Two appeared to be crumbling but still remained part of the wall, while a smaller building in the back had a room or two broken down but seemed to still be functional.

"This is an old fort," Julienne explained. "It used to be Riverwood, but was too out of the way from the royal road and so the town was moved. Whitewater is also in a strategic position and has its own fort next to it, so this was abandoned. Riverwood is the closest city to this fort, then Whitewater, and the next closest is the capital itself even though it is almost two days' steady travel beyond Riverwood."

"Makes it the perfect place for a band of highwaymen to settle, then."

Dusty looked around a bit more and saw lights begin to flicker on in the towers and the building. A host of rats had come to the fort and were lighting up the windows with torches. A large fire was in the center of the courtyard, and they seemed to be roasting meat on it while others prepared pots of beans or baked potatoes in a ramshackle stone oven.

"The fort is home to many rats now," Julienne said. "There are a few who are not highwaymen, but they are still petty thieves and look up to Reeve and his protection. They share his targets - larger and more dangerous thieves and criminals - when they go out but act solo, and Reeve has given them protection. Thus he is surrounded by a small army who can be fiercely loyal to him."

Dusty looked over to Julienne questioningly. "How many are there?"

"As many as two dozen, not including Reeve himself."

Dusty peered back into the spyglass. "How is the for laid out?"

"There is but one gate, on the south side," Julienne said; Dusty pointed to where she mentioned. "There are three functioning watchtowers but it seems the rats mostly use those for housing space. The main building is quite large. There are storage chambers, housing chambers, and a large hall where Reeve likes to host. It is connected to the watchtower just to the east, one of the crumbling ones. In fact, it is in danger of falling and no one uses it. There are also a few copses of trees around, though I would not use those to jump into the building."

"I'm suppose to get in and cut an ear or some of his tail off. How do you think I should get in?"

"Not by the gate," Julienne insisted. "If you go in the front gate, you are either a member or you are immediately tied up and taken to see Reeve himself in his private chambers. Anyone who enters that way likely suffers from magic draining. Instead, I have hidden a grappling hook around here, buried just underneath the rocks. Your best bet is to go to the west side, climb up with the grappling hook, then hide in the crumbling west tower before sneaking into the main building."

The prospect was not one Dusty enjoyed. It felt too back-handed and low for a member of the church. He had to remind himself that while the methods were not right, it was his best chance of making it to Reeve without getting into trouble with the rest of the horde. He moved on. "What should I know about their schedule?"

"The rats are punctual almost to a fault. They leave very early in the morning and come back just before sundown every night. They do not keep much of a guard; the town guard does not come by here and they leave only one or two around outside and one or two to guard the main building. They come back here and have something of a feast like they are now. They go in and out of the buildings, but their merrymaking does not last long. Most of them drink heavily and, unless its a full moon, the only lights on two hours after the sun goes down are in the main building."

"That surprises me," Dusty said. "I would have thought most of them would be nocturnal."

The bonfire had really gotten going now, and there were many rats hanging around by it. Most of them seemed to have a tankard or a goblet of some kind, plain in nature, but clearly almost all of them were drinking in addition to eating kebabs, with beans and potatoes in wooden bowls. There were some strained sounds of singing, and only every now and then did a new one come outside to take the place of one of the gate guards.

"I have no doubt that the petty thieves are still mostly nocturnal," Julienne said. "It makes it still difficult as they have good hearing and lend themselves to waking up others if they notice anything wrong. But as they plan to survey and attack caravans during the day, most are likely moved to a daily schedule rather than a nighttime one."

Dusty looked around a little more. "I haven't caught sight of anyone who looks like Reeve. How much does he hide himself up? And doesn't he go out with them?"

"We haven't actually seen Reeve as much lately," Julienne said. "The last I saw him was a few months' ago after a recent raid. I have no doubt he is still occasionally active; a few attacked report that Reeve talked to them directly without ever seeing his hideout. But in my watches lately, he hasn't been out much."

"What else should I know about Reeve before going in?"

"You saw what the picture looked like in the Guild hall, yes?"

"Yes. Radan showed me. He looked fairly handsome; fits a good image of the highwayman."

"Do not let his appearance on the sketch deceive you!" Julienne said. "Reeve is quite large, perhaps larger than yourself. And not only is he tall for a rat, he still keeps in good physique and is quite large around; stout as well as strong. Perhaps drinking and feasting on the spoils of his richer targets has turned him into something of a glutton, but he is by no means still over."

"Good to note," Dusty wondered. "He could likely withstand more than a normal rat would."

"Reports are that he's still a bit spry. He's fond of a somewhat elongated rapier or daggers as his main weapons, and has a good aim on throwing knives. He won't be easy even if you were to face him in an honorable single-combat. But I don't know if he would do that."

"Content to take more of a back-seat role and let his companions wear them down, perhaps."

"Your guess there is as good as mine," Julienne replied. "I have not seen him fight. I can only cite reports of guards trying to face him only to be defeated, mostly because the horde took out the rest and left Reeve to do his portion. But he shows few scars for one who still occasionally gets into fights, so maybe he still has some prowess left."

---

Suddenly, the double-doors to the main building opened. Out came a rat so tall his head nearly scraped the door frame, broad shoulders easily wider than any of the smaller rats and his gut slightly peeking out from his clothes. He had bluish-gray fur with a lighter front and something of a fuzzy chest, and wore little except for a white shirt, a black leather jacket, and a set of black leather pants. He was adorned in small trinkets of rings on his fingers and earrings on his ears, and a golden amulet around his neck.

Dusty described the figure to Julienne.

"You are lucky," the mouse said. "That is Reeve, and likely a few tokens from his recent raids that he wears. He does not come out very often, and so you managed to get a good look at him before you go down there."

What surprised Dusty the most was how the face looked quite handsome and still held some of the dashing romantic imagery of the highwayman (except, perhaps, for a perpetual slight sneer). But the handsome face looked odd on the almost too-broad shoulders and the prodigious gut that bulged out beneath the jacket and shirt. Not grotesque or repulsive, but it didn't quite fit, as though the top was taken off of one rat and put onto the body of another.

Reeve's mouth opened and from down in the dell his voice rose just enough to hear but not make out. It sounded quite smooth and eloquent though there was a bit of a rough scratch to it. "He seems to be saying something," Dusty said, focusing back on the task at hand. He could see the large rat gesturing about.

"Ah, one of the other Trackers who comes out here noted he does this with regularity. They will not go out tomorrow; it is usually a pronouncement of a day off for those who side with him."

Perhaps that was the case, as the horde soon shouted as though in joy and many more were heading for casks to refill their tankards and goblets. Reeve remained out for a little while longer, appearing to talk to them, and he was quick to laugh at many of them. The rats all seemed to enjoy working with him, and none of them seemed to deny Reeve anything. But neither did Reeve deny them in-turn, as he was willing to share toasts or kebabs or drinks.

"They seem to have revved up their feasting," Dusty commented.

"Then I would not do your mission tomorrow," Julienne said; Dusty put down the spyglass and turned back to the mouse. "They are likely going to all remain here if he is giving them the day off. Here, let me give you another spyglass. Come back early tomorrow and take watch to see if they stay here. If they are not assembling to leave by the time the sun has risen, you are out of luck. Wait until they have left and the majority are gone, then make your entrance."

"I do not like acting like a thief," Dusty said, taking the offered new spyglass - bronze-colored with silver rings where it could be extended - and putting it in his pocket.

"Thieves are naturally watchful by their profession," Julienne said before he could protest anymore. "They will like neither one of the town guard nor one of the Order coming for them, for they have done nothing but condemn. They are also fairly clandestine and clannish; they would not accept even a fox into their ranks. There is no true method of frontal assault should Reeve decide to hide himself away."

"And yet the irony is that they send me as a member of the Order most likely to save him from death or jailing," Dusty sighed. "But I will do what I can, for both the Guild and the Order."

---

Dusty rose before dawn the next day and went to the spot where he had watched with Julienne the previous evening. He sat and waited, his pack next to him, and kept an eye out with his spyglass.

He watched and waited, but Julienne's suspicions were correct. The sun rose and he could see general activity around the place but none of them looked like they were getting ready to leave. He waited until well into the morning and still they showed no signs of leaving. They seemed to be doing inventory and checking provisions, but remained at the fort. Even when he came back later in the afternoon to increased activity there were still no signs of a large company having left. So Dusty did nothing to attempt gaining entrance that day.

The next day he came out to the hilltop before dawn and watched. This time he could see the rats being very busy indeed and soon the horde came out to the courtyard, about twenty of them. Before the sun had fully risen the rats were assembled in the courtyard and rather neatly ordered. One at the front seemed to be reading some sort of paper - probably their own orders - and soon the main gates were opened. Sixteen rats flooded out the gates in a neat but excited hustle, one came out but stayed by the main gate, one started pacing around the sides of the fort, one stayed in the courtyard, and two went into the main building.

Today was the day. Dusty remained atop the hill the rest of the afternoon, eating a small meal hiding away in the rocks, keeping his watch over the fort. He looked over his gear and dug out the grappling hook Julienne had hidden away, a good metal construction with a leather handle and fifteen or twenty feet of sturdy rope. He noticed his blade was slightly dull but didn't bother to sharpen it with a whetstone; his was a stealth mission today. He drank lightly from a water-skin, then hid his pack in the rocks with the exception of the grappling hook, and went back to watching.

Later, in the afternoon, Dusty took position of where the rats were. The rats in the courtyard and the main gate had switched positions, and the other one that had been patrolling the outside was nowhere to be found. Now was the time to move while he had an opening.

Before he slipped off down the hill, Dusty rubbed himself and his armor all over the ground, hoping to disguise most of his scent with the grass and occasional pine needle in addition to Julienne's scent of mouse. He then crept down the far side of the hill, slowly coming around to the north and hoping to run into a copse of trees towards the bottom where he could hide and inspect the walls. He found the bushes good and tall and full of leaves, and quickly dug a small divot to better hide himself.

From his inspections on the hilltop the walls on the north and north-west were the sturdiest. He peered through the leaves and found the walls here to be firm with many natural scratches and cuts from either weather or incomplete brickwork, plus were crenelated as though for watchmen. This was the most likely place to climb. He slipped out of the bushes, put his shield on his back, and prepped the grappling hook.

And then went tumbling backwards. Something had quietly latched onto his back and now had a small arm around his neck. It wasn't much but it was tightly pinned even with the fall. Dusty soon realized his error; he'd forgotten about the rat patrolling around and hadn't even taken stock of where he was! Did that mean his cover was broken?

"Your best bet is to stay quiet," the rat hissed. "If you do, I might only pilfer your valuables and leave you here."

The rat was too small for Dusty to stamp a paw, but he was small enough that the coyote was maybe a head or two taller than him. So Dusty began to roll on the ground towards the trees. The rat tumbled and grunted as Dusty whipped him around and constantly pressed him into the dirt and wriggled around as though taking a dust bath. Eventually he let ho, his body not enough to stop the coyote's rolling and pressured by the wriggling shield, and let him get up, stumbling himself towards the south... towards the gate.

Dusty wasn't about to let him get away. He pulled out his sword, quickly stepped forward, and slammed the bottom of the hilt on the rat's head. The rat ran a few paces more before collapsing into the dirt, knocked-out. Dusty dragged him over to the copse of trees he'd been at before and laid him in the divot before quickly pulling out the grappling hook once again.

Now he had to work quickly in case signs of the scuffle were heard from the gates or the courtyard. He tossed the hook up and got it to stick against one of the small crenelations, then climbed the rope. He would grab with his paws, pull himself up, wrap his legs firmly around the rope, and then use their pull to quickly grab higher with his paws. He cleared the rope and was up the wall after scooting up for a few minutes, then quickly pulled up the rope and grabbed the hook.

Taking a quick look around on the walls of the fort, Dusty inspected where the rats were. The courtyard one was fiddling with one of the large brick ovens he'd seen them roast potatoes in before, probably cleaning it. The one at the metal gate was pacing back and forth, and the one patrolling still sat with his legs out in the bushes. Dusty was right up against the tower on the northwest side, his most likely entrance to the hideout.

The coyote took stock of the situation for a moment. His best bet was likely to go immediately for Reeve. Keep up a magical barrier and the rat maybe wouldn't be able to use his own magic against him, and he could somewhat parley with him while reinforcements were small. Dusty slowly entered the open door of the crumbling northwest tower to see how easy it would be; the door below was closed and there were bits of rubble in front of it, but only a few easily-moved bricks; the floor cave-in was more towards the courtyard entry. Dusty took it as a sign and quickly scrambled into the tower.

---

A few bricks stood in front of the door. Dusty quickly moved them and added them to the pile next to the courtyard. He then tested the handle to make sure it would move, then very slowly pulled it in to see if it would squeak. It creaked slightly as he opened it, but he was no fool. Dusty only opened it just enough to stick an eye into the door and look around. He then quietly sniffed. The scent of rat was faint but not strong enough to be right outside the door. He opened it a little further.

There was a slightly bent hallway where the tower was connected to the main building. It was dark inside and the only light came from Dusty's opening the door. Dusty pushed the door open just enough for him to slip through and closed it behind him only to find it wasn't as dark as he supposed. He still put his paw to the wall and began to feel along the edges until he came to the bend.

At the end, he peered around the corner. Two doors were here: one wide open that led down a flight of stairs towards a lit area, and another that led forwards that was barely cracked open but seemed to be much brighter. Dusty quickly went to the opposite wall and looked down the stairwell, but couldn't see much beyond another door lit by a torch. Besides, he suspected that was not where he would find Reeve; the passages were too thin.

He tested the door out to the brighter space and found it lubricated enough it barely made a sound. Likely there were too many paws going in and out that someone had kept it maintained. He quickly peeked outside.

He did not like what he saw. There was a set of hallways in the shape of a T; his hall crossed with the main path that he assumed was the main entrance. On the left side were two doors, one on either side of the hall. More to his attention were the two rats sitting just inside the entrance. He hadn't seen them before and wondered how many more there were. But he wasn't about to deal with two of them at once, not the way the one had fought outside. He stopped to consider the situation. He had to move fast; the main horde would be coming back any time now and he stood no chance of getting to Reeve if they knew what he was doing.

Dusty remembered the loose bricks in the stairwell. Leaving the door where it was, he quickly slipped back down the corridor to the tower, opened the door a little further, and grabbed an easy brick from the pile of rubble. Heading back, he stayed at the top of the stairs and tossed the brick gently towards the first steps. The moment it hit with a satisfying thunk on the first step he ran as fast as he could around the bend. He waited there with one ear perched around the corner, shield out, waiting for someone to come through.

Voices mumbled just outside of his range of hearing on the other side of the door. Eventually he heard a set of footsteps coming closer, and the door being opened at the end of the hall but not closed. That was all the purchase he needed, but he waited a moment longer in case the rat stayed. Soon he heard the same footsteps start climbing down the stairs.

One... two... three... if he bolted he might be able to stun the rat up to before it got too wild...

Five... six... Dusty charged his magic... eight... nine... now!

Dusty careened down the hall with his shield forward and charged for the lone rat in the hall. He barely had time to register the coyote barreling at him out of the darkness and his shriek was cut off as the coyote's shield bashed into him. Almost immediately Dusty heaved forwards again and the shock-wave blew; instead of merely stumbling backwards the rat was thrown almost entirely down the length of the hall.

Dusty heard the creeping footsteps of something coming up behind him. Without even turning around, he pulled his sword and flung himself backwards. The rat deftly parried the blow with a pair of daggers, but it was clear he already did not like the coyote's extra distance nor his shield. The heater shield was big enough to cover the coyote's torso, and crouched low enough was formidable enough to almost hide three-quarters of his body. The rat, meanwhile, looked like it didn't even wear a single piece of leather armor.

Keeping his shield up as much as he could, Dusty swung his sword a few times. The wide, diagonally-arcing sweeps pushed the rat backwards and kept him away. Despite the narrow corridor, Dusty avoided thrusting as it could allow the rat to duck and charge at him. He needed to get his magic ready for a mild thrust, but the rat was keeping close and would give him no purchase. He also needed to make sure the partner didn't sneak up too close, but didn't dare look while this one's blades were closing in. He quickly parried a few sweeps, then slipped in closer than the rat expected and raised his sword.

That was enough; the rat went in for a normal parry but was caught off-guard by the rising swing. His daggers were loosed from his hands and went scattering across the floor, his arms raised, and he nearly fell over backwards. But the vulnerability allowed Dusty to channel his magic and blast the rat with a small, thin beam of light from the tip of his sword. It hit the rat square in the chest and launched him backwards before he fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Dusty turned around with his sword raised to the rat behind him in the corridor and found him still struggling to get up. He seemed knocked off-kilter by both the shield and the shock-wave blast and was barely looking straight. He stumbled around for a bit before falling down once again, also knocked out.

Dusty checked them over. The one knocked by the shield charge did have a few daggers and some throwing knives, and he took those out but laid them nearby. For the other he took the daggers and placed them next to him. He also took two fingers and places them on each of the rat's throats, searching for a pulse. He found one, slow and steady, on each of them, and figured they wouldn't be knocked out for long. That was enough damage. But he had to get to Reeve.

There was only one door that could suggest a hiding place for such a large rat. Opposite the main courtyard entrance there was another set of double doors. Whether to a hall or a special room Dusty had no idea, but it was the only one that seemed accommodated for a rat of such prodigious size. The doors out here may have been for provisions or stores or living areas, but of smaller thieves. Maybe close lieutenants; Dusty himself was already able to put his hand fully on the crest of the doors.

Without quite caring who saw him now, Dusty went to the double doors and opened them. He intruded onto a wide but sparsely-furnished main hall lit by torches with only three noticeable features. One was the rather large table in the center of the room. Two was the section cordoned off by a large piece of dark burgundy cloth. The other was the only figure in the room, an absolutely massive rat sitting down in an extra-wide chair on the opposite side of the table from where Dusty entered the room. He looked up at the coyote entering the room and narrowed his dark-green eyes.

"Master Reeve Thomas, my name is Dusty Yote, and I've come here to make you an offer."