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Twenty-Seven: Infiltration

In the gorgeous park, among the places for which we know Knighsedge, I await at the northern end of the bridge over the lake. I close my left eye--as I wear my eyepatch and my grey pinstripe suit--taking in the occasional breeze over my face. I have dreamt of the day my mother and I could be here in Knightsedge and hike around the park. I hoped that she and I could do this every day.

I expect no forgiveness for how I treated both of you all those years ago. I wish that I could just tell you that I was wrong about you. We were peasants, whose dreams could never come true. My ear twitches, and then bends to the side. I open my eye and turn to see the small rabbit before she is even close to me. I patiently wait for her to near me before I lower to one knee. "Good show, Leigh-Anne", I speak.

"Oll right, Ma'am?"

"I am. And you?"

"Yes, Ma'am." She still sounds sports as she continues, "Yer company from last night is right as day, too, bar a loss and injuries." I maintain my composure as I hear the news. "Mister MacNiadh wanted me ter inform yeh, the loss is of a grey wolf named... Hughson. Mister MacNiadh is attending his funeral tomorrow."

I interject, "I might 'ave no time. Can you tell 'im that I am sorry for his demise?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I came t-you fer other news, as well." She pauses a beat. "The spy network obtained the information that one of Mister Coombs's patrons is setting port today. The meeting is with the dealer named Rupert." Probably denounced his family. Leigh-Anne adds, "Mister Coombs is aware of the break-in at the townhouse of the workshop. He is suspicious that none of 'is merchandise was nicked." I have sold the pins to a local factory. I expect those people to melt the pins into their metal for moulding. "Lady Lowell is in Knightsedge, as well. According to the spy network here, the pub that she favours fer lunch is The Steel Horns."

I allege contently, "You and your informants 'ave done well." I present a few bills to her. "Keep it up, little rabbit." I ruffle her crown of fur and then stand up.

"Good day. And best of Symphon, Ma'am."

"Likewise, Leigh-Anne." As before, we tread in opposite directions. Now for the next phase of my plan. If this client of Giffard's will still be a while, I might have time to socialise.

I have never thought that I would sleep with the enemy, let alone metaphorically. I eat my lunch in silence as I sense the men in the pub watching me with caution. I gather that this is for gambling games, based on the wooden bovine head mounted on the wall opposite the door and a table with short walls where dice idle. In addition, one table with two men has a game board.

Upon leaving only crumbs on the porcelain plate, I take the metal mug still containing ale with me to a table occupied by only a white she-wolf. She wears a dress with an emerald-green pinstripe multi-layered wide-skirted dress, lace on the front, no sleeves. On its sides, there are metal plates fastened by rivets. The trim for the laces is metal, too. I ask, "Wait you fer somebody?"

She looks up curiously, showing her jade-green eyes. I can discern a brown hue on the edges of her eyes. She answers, "If you want the chair, you can have it." I sit down in front of her and place the tankard on the table. She then asks, "Whot business have you 'ere?" She talks like any known aristo.

I state, "I dined at this establishment, cognizant of your presence here of oll locations. I arrived here because I wish to speak with you."

She snorts lowly as she looks aside. The lady returns her gaze to me, with narrowed eyes. She reiterates, "Whot is your business, Miss?"

"'Twould astonish you, but I sought you for no deals involving money. I wish solely to socialise with you."

She still is uncertain of what to make of me. She has never seen me before, but she is aware of the vigilante. I down the rest of my ale and set the tankard aside.

The white she-wolf speaks, "Nobody bar aristos approach me for social reasons." Pause. She presents her white hand, licks of grey looking accented by the light. "Lady Nadine Lowell." I hold out my arm and shake her hand. "And you might be?"

Now, I am the one hesitant. I cannot just claim that I have no name. Jack and his barwoman are the only two people in Highcond who know what I really call myself. After an awkward moment, I proclaim, "Vivian!" Another pause. "Just. Vivian."

"No other commoner approaches me so casually, 'Just Vivian'", she quips. "I assume you run your own business to adopt such an appearance."

I imply, "I indeed worked hard most of my life to reach where I currently stand."

"I also presume that your profession is dangerous, knowing that you require an eyepatch."

I respond, "I prefer to leave the occurrence leading to such, to multiple stories."

Nadine raises a finger. "I already like you, Vivian."

Let the charade truly commence. "I trust that you 'ave more than a vibrant pelt, expensive and decorative clothing, and a vast amount of money, to make you the wolf that you are."

I can tell that Nadine attempts, and fails, to suppress a chuckle. She comments, "I know nobody save for my brother to change their attitude quickly as you do."

"I have been to brothels and paid women in the past", I point out.

"I can guess why." She quickly adds, "But I sincerely have confidence that you are not seeking a one-time encounter."

I play further. I lean toward Nadine and remark, "I would be jovial if you are nothing like your brother. I believe that you deserve a business woman's opinions on him."

"I would wager that you are among the few women that he has never intimidated."

"I am aware of the reputation of your house."-

She interrupts, "Of course you are."

I continue, "But I am in the dark about you. Giffard has control as tradition would dictate, but I believe that he only speaks through you, the true hierarchal mind."

She bares her teeth as a grin. That should tell me everything, but I still play. "Plotters lurking in the darkness, is an invalid reason to coll them cowards. If not your image and fortunes, you must 'ave the bottle to point a gun at someone in order to receive whot you desire." She is more stoic than I thought. I can sense her restraint from looking away again, but still she grins. Nadine must have taken flattery before. I have pitched my line, and she has taken the bait, but she might be savvy about lures, and attempting to tug the hook and line. "Lady Lowell"-

She interrupts, "I might 'ave heard about you. The black she-wolf with the eyepatch." What? "An issue from Solmil Journal has carried here to Knightsedge. Lady Langdon has taken shite from the other nobles--bollocks is you ask me; they might have abused their cubs, as well--and she blames the she-wolf of whom her son wrote, for his death." I might have guessed that this would catch up with me. Nadine continues, "Almost everyone avoids her like the plague, thinking that she raised her son to be like a street criminal."

I scowl. "I better be ready, then, for when I meet her."

Nadine adds, "Her daughter changed her surname, too, over what David said about Lord and Lady Langdon."

"How can she still bear her married name?"

"Because they have no intention to divorce despite their past demeanours. They need each other."

I want to ask, "Like your brother needs you?", but I hold back. Instead, I comment, "I would like very much to meet Lady Langdon." Nadine chuckles. I declare, "You should try flirting. It might have others flirt back."

Catching on, she observes, "You are persistent, Vivian. I could use more people like that." She proposes, "I could be social with another wolf. Let us meet tomorrow at four, afront Knight's Tower."

I stand up, answering, "You will not regret it, My Lady. Until then." I bow, and then exit the pub.

I am correct about the timing. A steamboat pauses at the northernmost port of River Numo. I stand idly on the sidewalk in front of the railing, but away from the dock. From the boat's wheelhouse, exits a hulking polar bear in a leather overcoat over a golden petticoat and tan pantaloons. He holds the hand of a female ice bear clad in a laced black dress. Following him are two black bears in brown overcoats with rifles over their backs, and a third one dragging someone with a sack over their head and wrists chained behind. I watch them as they take only a few items with them to a trackless locomotive. They can only go straight, not that the ursines care. However, they need not go a long way. The group pauses as if they sense that somebody is watching. I take cover, and manage to avoid detection. I am here only to observe tonight, not to thwart a deal.

I manage to follow their machine via horse carriage on the same road. Having carriages and locomotives on the same road is dangerous, but they have not yet settled on the law. So, I keep going the short ride, and then hurry to the sidewalk. I scale the wall of the line of townhouses, where the bears are meeting their dealer.

I make it on the metal roof of the unit that I climb, in time to see the bears enter the space between the lines one at a time. A Greyhound clad in a brown duster over a green work shirt and blue pinstripe slacks from the doorway of one of the units. Joining him are two other dogs wearing only work pants with suspenders. They enter and exit the same townhouse four times, bringing out one case each. I can sense the suppressed irritation of the largest ice bear.

The Greyhound approaches the female bear, bowing before her. He lifts her hand, to kiss it. The tension is still there, and thick like chilled butter. The female ice bear speaks, "You displease my husband, Rupert, which in turn displeases me." Her voice is deep and raspy, nothing like I would expect of a woman.

The Greyhound replies, "I feel the same, M' Lady. However, we 'ave experienced gratuitous upsets in the operation. Mister Coombs elected to terminate the employment of many, and displays continuous cynicism on whether his few workers are trustworthy."

The towering arctic ursine sounds like every word is a growl as he orates. Pity I cannot speak his primary language. Thankfully, there is somebody who can speak Symphonian. His mate relays, "My husband deesregards your excuses. He and I both want what your employer promises. Coombs's workers had time to construct their firearms. We have arrived weeth payment, but we weesh to collect our due exchange."

"Lord Krazniev, Lady Krazniev, due to our decline in assets, and therefore a decline in merchandise, the prices have increased." He pauses as he hears the female ice bear translate for her husband, followed by what comes off to me as distorted rubbish. Rupert continues, "Everyone has to buy from someone. Even the common thugs plaguing the streets have already sought somebody else from whom to buy. If Mister Coombs learns that you depart without his goods, the word will travel to Lord Lowell. And he would never forgive a client for ending their business with him." Krazniev: I must remember that. The lady ice bear relays the information to the lord ice bear. Why would this particular bear from abroad desire weapons from the Lowell House?

After a pause during which I assume the lord gives Rupert an intense glare, I hear him demand something. His wife relays, "He wants to know eef you at least made the peestols."

"But of course", Rupert answers, bowing. He kneels and turns around, to pick up the one perfect cube among the boxes. He opens it before presenting it to the polar bears.

The lord takes one of the steel revolvers, examining it as he holds it in his left hand. He makes the gun look small. Rupert explains, "High quality, made with a lo' of time, and lo' more patience. Forty-five calibre. Effective at short range."

The white giant then turns around, holding the pistol. He nudges his head toward the pair of armed men. The one on my left, lifts the sack from the prisoner's head, which I see is another polar bear, except he might be thin under his pelt. The man on my right, shoves the prisoner to kneel in front of the terror. The lord clicks the gun and points it at the prisoner. And I sit by, watching with dismay. Bang!

The prisoner's crown seems to explode before he tumbles aside. I hear a remark from the lord before he takes the spare bullet from the box, to place in the gun's chamber.

Rupert inquires, "Want you ta test the machine guns, as well, M'Lord?"

I can make out the one word of his answer: "Nyet." He waves for his men to approach.

Anticipating the next move, Rupert clarifies, "There are eight machine guns with which you kin provide your men. Along with each of them is an 'undred bullets. I would have provided you with yer requested twenty-four"-- Lord Krazniev cuts him off with his hand as a halt sign. The Greyhound adds, "Th-the charge is still... forty-two thousand pounds, in-including the revolvers."

Based on the tone, the lord breaks into a rant about the charge for only a third of what he has been promised.

The lady translates, "My husband conseeders you mad swindler for theese choice. Another instance where I agree with him. Both of us wish to not depart empty-handed, but he believes that you are not to be trusted."

Rupert attempts to maintain his composure as he explains, "I-I understand yer 'usband's desires, M'Lady, and Lord Lowell 'as been pleased ta do business with others with intentions ta counter and discourage rebellion over the years. However, our most vital... partners 'ave bin made raven fodder, and- and others 'ave disbanded or decided n-not ta renew their contracts. As a result, our supplies and resources 'ave dwindled in availability."

The lady translates the words of the predicament, and the lord has only silence as an answer. The lord then tells her his retortion of the speech. The lady relays, "He says that he cares not how many other clients are expected over this week. He demands that you give us rest of machine guns."

"Mister Coombs is not here right now; I am. And he will be faffed, as well, if you deny the offer. The best that I can do is charge the normal rate for the revolvers and the high price of the machine guns. While they might be common, they are oll built by hand, and 'ard to come by. I assure you, these weapons are up to the task." Pause. The lord growls as he looks at his wife, and then the dealer. Rupert adds, "I insist that you take these guns if y-still want them, and if you will provide the money, if not something of equal value." The lord growls again, even when he waves for his men to pull something out. They present a metal trunk, which one bear opens. The Greyhound examines the contents. He looks up at the white giant, commenting, "Mister Coombs will be delighted to see this treasure." To his men, he adds, "Help them load their effects." Now, I need only wait to hear if these people fail in their endeavours. I am done for the night.

On the morning to follow, I am out on patrol, but not with my golden mask and blue suit. There are other criminals here than Coombs and his dealers. I watch carefully to avoid intervening in a faction battle, and instead watch for muggers. That feat requires great restraint, for turning away from the fights pains me. As it turns out, the vigilante is not the only reason common thugs now avoid pinching purses.

Without my face, I have given muggers a right beating and taken their weapons from them. While the victims are content with my selfless acts, I am not satisfied with how I handle the dire situation. However, this is how it must be: the vigilante hiding in plain sight. I am relatively steady about only Jack and his barwoman being the only two people in Knightsedge who know my identity. Furthermore, it is better that I don this image as I invade the Lowell House through Nadine. Assassins have more mandates than killing people, for infiltration takes planning.

I cannot believe it, but I look forward to seeing Nadine. After such a slow day, I meet her where she wants: afront of Knight's Tower, the grand clock of the city. I look to its clockface with the longing to scale the structure. I hear a female voice call, "Vivian." I ignore it. Then, the same voice from a shorter distance repeats, "Vivian." A hand touches my shoulder, prompting me to swiftly spin around. I just stop myself upon seeing the face of white fur with green eyes.

"Oll right, Vivian?" Nadine says.

"As good as I can be", I reply sarcastically.

Nadine wears a sleeveless rose-red dress with a multi-layered skirt and decorated with golden plates like a bodice and a perfectly rectangular gold plate on the front of the skirt. She dismisses the comment, for she speaks, "You are unpredictable."

I parry, "And you 'ave a right 'abit o' standing out."

Nadine chuckles. "We oll 'ave a part ta play." I scowl, expecting her to see through my ruse. "Do not be so intense. 'Tis no way ta start a friendship."

"I had very few friends over the years, and I wos born and raised in a slum."

"Hopefully, one not as toxic and chaotic as Ignisater Pillars." She smiles. "I would love to show you around Parliament Square." You are more open than I assumed, Nadine. I quietly nod, and begin following her past the tower.

The many aristos and politicians on the Parliament Square yards speak in hushed tones, and yet the mixed chatter for city noise is as clear seeing the day. Even at this time of day, the flower stands and the ice cream merchants seem to thrive here. I would wager that the gangsters and mercenaries keep clear of the place. Such would be evident by the rifle-bearing guards in red tunics patrolling the outer walls.

Taking in the rose bushes bordering the yard, I ask, "Come you 'ere often?"

Nadine answers, "Of course not. Politics are not of me interest." I follow her on the path of the west side, to the entrance.

I add, "Then, why would you frequent 'ere?"

"Only to discuss business matters with me living assets, which 'ave died out." Of course, she would know what happened to the Lowell House's inner circle. Nadine explains, "I mostly discuss business in the Heart of Highcond, namely investments. It wos I who sought business associates for the Lowell House, oll of them at the House of Stocks."

I feign interest as if I did not already know. "Oh? And whot business do you, My Lady?"

She stares at me, dumbfounded, even after the two guards at the doorway halt us. The one on the left asks, "Shall I clear her, Lady Lowell?" Pause. "My Lady?"

She swiftly turns to the guards, to answer, "Yes. She is with me. I just wish to show her around, and perhaps discuss arrangements."

The two guards look at each other sternly, and then at me and Nadine. They must be as savvy as police now are about the Lowell House's reputation. If not, they are cynic about an aristo and a complete stranger attempting to eavesdrop on politicians' conversations.

I speak up, "Whot-ever is of utmost importance ta keep only among the officials is not of me interest. Lady Lowell only seeks a silent space for a private conversation as she knows not where I live and she might not trust her brother."

Nadine comments with a wry smile, "Well said."

The two guards seem to communicate through only their stares before the one on the left says, "Go in. Know that the Central Hall is out of boundaries."

Nadine answers, "We understand." I follow her through the doorway, but sceptic that the guards would turn their guns on me.

Such grandeur, the inside of the Parliament House. Though they might be of flawless white marble, the walls look as orange as a candle's flame with the daylight and are intricate due to their support beams pointing upward. The tiled floor looks as perfect, gleaming with the reflected light. I never thought that I would be inside here, of all places in my life.

Nadine jests, "You react like a cub."

I counter, "I have never been so acquainted with an influential figure."

As I catch up with her in the narrow hall, where it splits in two directions, Nadine counters back, "Neither were my late assets before they met me or my brother." We head left, past the Central Court. The Ministry of Justice must be under fire over the conflicting factions.

This next hall is of polished wood and smoothly painted plaster inside, but with windows letting in the daylight. I speak, "I must ask you something, and be honest." I pause, expecting her approval or an objection. I continue, "How is your relationship with yer brother?"

Now, she scowls. With complements of the sunlight, her eyes are like green fire. She says calmly, "I assume, you 'ave heard rumours about me an' Giffard having an incestuous connection." I do not answer. "When Giffard is full of enough rage ta frighten a grown dog, he relies on one method above senselessly flailing upon a servant." She looks into my eyes, and her expression does not waver as she goes on. "Giffard is willing to eat his profits and wants to feel the effects. There are things that he wants to see, regardless of material or potency. A common whore is not enough ter aid in such a resolution. That is why he turned to me, and I never refused. I hate it, but he is my brother. He needs a woman to taunt back someone who teased him for years." Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment. Nadine comments, "You are not surprised."

I reply, "Rumours spread."

"But the rumours are not the whole truth. Whoever told you stories of me an' Giffard might 'ave exaggerated, if not gone into nauseating detail."

I interrupt, "I would say both."

She gets close to me, to whisper in my ear, "Giffard is rough with it. He olways wants ta be on top even for the activity. He has a routine, and I follow every step. Giffard refuses to hold back; the foreplay is minimal. I have followed the one method on which I agree, no questions asked, for years."

I quip, "A woman may be better fer you than any man."

She backs up, scoffing. "I concur. Quite honestly, I still find difficulty believing that Giffard and 'is enforcer are not a couple."

Giffard and Lieven? In love?! I ask, "Is that how close they are?"

Nadine hums a single note. "So, you know of Lieven, too?" She does not pause to expect an answer. "Almost everywhere my brother goes, Lieven is there. They both can claim that they look out fer the other, but I find that a poor excuse."

I look away, brows furrowed. My ear twitches. When I saw Giffard watch Diefenbach torture a prisoner at Agnarge Asylum, Lieven was there. When Bones and the mercenaries ended my fight with Vadimir, and brought me to Giffard, Lieven was there. When Giffard confronted Hinds, Lieven was there. When Giffard laid siege on the Oasis, Lieven was there. There must be a reason.

I suppress my anger before focusing on Nadine again. I inquire, "Whot is Giffard like when Lieven is not around?"

She implies, "Let us just say: you should avoid Giffard when he is alone or accompanied by anybody except that badger."

Curious, I ask, "Does that include you, My Lady?"

"I olways expect to watch my brother to perform peril upon others." She remains stoic, but I wonder if she is onto me.

I bow. "My apologies, My Lady. I have no excuse."

"Keep it, Vivian", Nadine dismisses. "You 'ave nothing for which ta be sorry. I may 'ave feared speaking of my brother to anybody, especially one that I just met."

I say humbly, "Well then, My Lady, you may always confide in me."

She responds, "I would be honoured ter 'ave you as a guest at breakfast tomorrow, at my house."

I bow again, and answer, "I accept your request. And thank you, My Lady."

She moves to stand right next to me, and whispers, "You may call me Nadine when at my house. Even in Giffard's presence." I smirk. So, you do have an edge. Perhaps I can exploit that.

Leigh-Anne has been awaiting me outside the Parliament House, at the border of rose bushes. She has informed me that the next client is coming tonight, and meeting the dealer not far from the dock where the steamship stops. I look forward to that. It is better that I make sure that the client does not turn down the offer.

A female Greyhound wearing the same kind of business suit that I have, except it is blue, speaks, "This is to be a private matter. I must ask you to leave." The sun has completely set, leaving the sky dark. This Greyhound has a dolphin in a leather thong, showing off muscles as if he is a sentient chart, as her enforcer, and the one carrying the metal crates to the yard.

I offer, "I know whot you plan to do, and I know that it will not be easy. Yeh'll need oll the help in persuasion you kin get."

The slender female Greyhound counters, raising a finger, "This is not open fer discussion. The meeting that I hold here is not your business."

"Go ahead and decline my aid. It will make the choice easier fer yer patron."

The dog growls, even when she looks over my shoulder. Hearing this, the dolphin points a shotgun at me, and says, "Leave or die, Bitch."

I put my hands up and object, "I am as shady as your boss is. He needs more of those people than ever."

A female musical voice speaks, "Is that any way to greet an esteemed woman, Darla?"

The dog signals the dolphin with a wave. Though hesitant, he complies and lowers his arm. So, I put my arms down, too. The Greyhound speaks, "That was a petty argument about to get serious. There are many problems on our end, Lady Rahal."

I turn to find the visitor a Striped Hyaena, her slim figure discernible under her deep indigo shroud and wraparound dress with indistinct patterns. Only her right arm is uncovered. As protection, she has two cheetahs and two other Striped Hyaenas, clad in armour fitted as part of their tunics and trousers. Each of them carries one cutlass weapon, a pistol, and a bow and arrows. One cheetah has his bow in hand and an arrow nocked.

The Striped Hyaena replies, "Your problems with production are not mine, Darla. I came here for what your boss offers, and intend to leave with them." She looks around, counting the metal crates. She then scowls at the Greyhound. "The manufacturer seems to have failed us both."

Darla reproaches, "That is what I must inform you of, My Lady: accesses to resources have deteriorated since our previous trade. Over the past four months, somebody has been slaying the Lowell House's clan members. Most of them have been despatched in the worst possible ways. As a result, Mister Coombs has been set far back with production."

The hyaena, which I assume is a warlord, reiterates, "That is not my problem. If this has become the best that your boss can offer me, I might be better off buying from another dealer."

I step in, growling, "Are you saying that Lord Lowell's weapons are not good enough for you?"

Darla nudges me back with her arm, saying, "This is not your fight."

The hyaena says, "The quantity is the situation. You offer eight machine guns."

Darla interjects, "And at a higher price, Lady Rahal."

The hyaena barks, "How much higher?"

The dog specifies, "Mister Coombs charges the eight machine guns and two revolvers for forty thousand pounds."

Rahal yowls as if someone bit her clits and howls, "I could buy twenty-four machine guns at that price!"

I weigh in, "But I know that this dealer would stand by the choice, and not question why. And I would advise not provoking the dolphin." The dog looks at me quizzically about the last statement. She knows that I am right, for the dolphin has his shotgun ready, expecting a fight.

Darla adds, "Killing me here might also have the government question their relations with Dahalo."

_Dahalo? A civil war there?! I must get this woman to buy defective weapons._I speak, "You intend to just buy weapons and return to your ship immediately after the trade. Is that correct? Can you afford the chance of staying another day to seek somebody else from whom to buy?"

Rahal scowls at me as if I have just insulted her intelligence. She turns to the crates of the guns, and then to the Greyhound and the dolphin. She keeps turning her focus, growling.

I add, "You would need the oll the possible tools for yer men if the matter is urgent. Furthermore, I would wager that another hyaena would love to break your lustrous visage."

The Greyhound mutters, "Good Lord."

Rahal manages to dim her fire, and asks, "Are you certain of these weapons being worth the price?"

Darla hesitates from the surprise. She answers, "Y-yes, M-My Lady. They must be, having been assembled by hand."

Rahal tells me, "You must make a good realtor, Miss." She waves for one of her fellow hyaenas, who approaches, presenting a trunk. Rahal adds, "I assume, these jewels will suffice in equivalency."

As it happens, Darla carries a loupe magnifier. She places it in front of her right eye, and examines a green gem. She then studies a yellow gem of the same size. How I wish I could nick a handful of these precious stones and sell to fund the Oasis. However, I can think clearly enough without looking up at the hyaena and her bodyguards. The leather chest seems to carry only stones, each one the size of a Barn Owl's head, and crudely shaped. All of them are pink, yellow, and green.

I ask curiously, "Whot gems are these?"

Rahal answers without hesitation, "Diamonds." I snap my head up to focus on the hyaena. She chuckles, then continues, "Yes, they are all diamonds, mined by the same team. Coloured gems are more valuable than diamonds, but coloured diamonds are worth even more, being even rarer." My gobsmacked expression suddenly turns into a scowl. I would wager that she owns the mine where these stones were excavated, and not even thanks them for their efforts.

Darla produces a sack and takes a handful at a time from the trunk. When only a few stones of each colour remain in the case, Darla speaks, presenting the sack, "This is the price."

Rahal replies, "Then we are done here." She announces to her men, "Pack it up." The one cheetah with the bow and arrow ready idles, expecting the delphinid to challenge Rahal's companions. However, the muscled dolphin helps the two hyaenas with the metal crates. They just take the cases without checking if the contents are the correct weapons.

Darla turns to me, asking, "Are you open for employment, Miss...?"

I answer stoically, "This wos fer one time, and only to prove my worth to Lady Lowell."

"_Lady_Lowell?" Darla barks. "Yeh must be daft!"

I begin walking past her, admitting, "You are not the first ta tell me that." I ignore whatever else she has to say or what opinion her brute has.

I surprise Jack, having casually entered his office in the morning, the pub unusually packed at such a time. I was too focused on Nadine to look for the church where Jack was. His recent loss must bother him hard with him not saying energetically, "Best o' the day ta yeh, Lass." To think that David's suicide would be the bug to crawl up my back and bite my neck.

I assume, "You are not pleased ta see me."

"Wrong", Jack objects.

I retort, "But your mercenary died"-

Jack interrupts, "Wrong again. Hughson knew the risks. Rest assured, he did not die in vain."

I reproach, "Your surround yerself with men with nothin' ta lose, but I would think that you consider them family."

Jack stands up, adjusting his black vest and emerald-green tie. He says, "Yeh need not apologise fer missin' the wake. We all have places ta be."

I ask, "And where will you be when Coombs is buggered?"

He asks back, "Where d-yeh think?" Jack adds cheerfully, "Don' be so gloomy I be celebratin' Hughson's achievements today." He bares his teeth as a grin. How amazing, Jack: you can still find the time to smile. You are correct, as well, that the demise of one of your mercs will be worth the rewards of the victorious.

I state, "I may need ta literally sleep with the enemy."

Silence, but it lasts only a second. Jack roars into a laugh. As I fail to understand such a statement, he explains, "A spy does what they must ter obtain vital information. I learnt such from operatives that followed me orders. There is popular belief in oll military divisions that the informants bed their enemies ta complete such missions. Even me spies bragged about seducing enemies' employees."

I retort, "Be realistic, Jack!"

He shrugs, "Not everyone can be so convinced. The reports that I received in me time as captain were quite thorough, even featuring stories of... courting."

I admit, "I 'ad a session with someone working at two of the brothels that I destroyed. The second time was merely because of my heat."

He seems to imagine me having intercourse with a woman. After that moment of silence, Jack replies, "Like I said, we do what we must. Even fuck the enemy." He emphasises with a grin.

I could have sold myself to a man that I tracked in the past, but I was never like that. I vowed that the only man to whom I would give myself, is one who loves me. Both Holly and June understood why I paid to bed them.

I confess, "I 'ave a plan to get ta Nadine."

Assuming an implication, Jack interrupts, "I think nothin' less o' yeh, Lass, fer yer potential method."

"I might, but I 'ave a pressing engagement. Another time, Jack."

He barks gleefully, "Best of Symphon ta yeh, Lass." I take a good look at his smile before I exit the door.

I knock on the polished wooden door of a three-floor house seeming to be made entirely of marble, from the walls to the balconies and railings, only the rooves and chimneys being metal. The one to answer the door is the green-eyed white she-wolf, clad in a violet sleeveless dress, brass chains and bolts decorating the skirt. She speaks, "Good show, Vivian. But you are late."

"Apologies, My Lady, but I was otherwise occupied."

Nadine says, "Breakfast 'as just been served. Please, come in." She moves aside, so I can cross the threshold. As I take in the main hall, green and blue floral wallpaper decorating the walls up to the top of the stairs, she adds, "The maid insisted on serving for three at once even though you were absent." I hastily follow her to the dining chamber--

And there Giffard is, at the end of the table from the doorway. A plain white cloth covers the long rectangular table and is adorned with a golden tree of small glass bowls of fruit, the body etched with the shapes of gears and narrow pipes, like flowers. His back is to a fireplace, chimney and mantle, all bricks, standing out among the polished, wooden inner walls where paintings are lined up of other wolves in business wear. The man of the house wears a charcoal pinstripe vest, white business shirt, and tangerine necktie.

Giffard barks irritably, "Yeh kin gawk at me whilst yehr eat."

I stride to the chair on the side of the window, in front of which a plate idles. I sit down hastily and take the thoroughly etched knife and fork, disregarding which knife is for which item. Nadine sits in the chair opposite Giffard, nearest the doorway. I expected a simple breakfast of bread and vegetables, maybe in broth. Instead, fill my mouth with a sample of eggs, yoghurt with blackberries, and chestnut bread.

Nadine comments sarcastically, "You 'ave quite the table manners."

I wait to down the mouthful before I look up and reply to her, "I eat alone most days."

After a moment of silence, Giffard gets directly to the situation. "What is the real reason you would attempt to associate with my sister?"

I turn to him. Even when not so close to him, his yellow eye and blue eye seem to glare. I imply, "Consider me already having been associated." I pause, reminding myself to address him as the aristo that he is. "Lord Lowell." I add, "My mother is sort of a friend of your family."

Giffard objects with a growl, "My father had no friends."

Silence instantly befalls us. I turn to each of the siblings, needing only glimpses of their reactive expressions. I stand up--

Nadine announces, "Finish your breakfast first." Pause. She then focuses on Giffard with a smile. "I insist."

I slowly sit back down. I glance to Giffard, who scowls. If anything, he could have the urge to pick up the table, though he could be indecisive whether to flip it toward me or his sister. I turn back to Nadine, still smiling. There is a sign of her edge again. I flatter you once, and already you use me to enrage your brother.

I inquire, "Is Giffard not the social type?"

Giffard is not hesitant to speak up. "Nadine and I 'ave 'osted galas on our birthdays and attended others."

Nadine jests, "Only ter 'ave a fit in front of other influential figures."

I take that as seriously as Giffard does. "Is one of those figures Lucia Langdon?"

Giffard admits, "Not Lucia, but her husband, the whoremonger." Nadine nor I need to point out the irony there. He continues, "Garret is no man with class 'imself. He would probably come 'ome reeking of orgasms ta spite Lucia."

I reproach, "Have you no shame, Lord Lowell?" As cowardly as that is, talking about someone in their absence is simpler than directly to that someone. As if he could not be more of a bloody coward.

Nadine interjects, "You can expect me to speak ill of other aristocrats." I eat as I listen to her continue. "Both of our parents have built and maintained family businesses. They are deemed nobles because of their fortunes and estates passed unto us." She adds bitterly, "Of course, our monopoly on business has been deteriorating."

I shoot my gaze to Giffard yet again, who slowly chomps his food, glaring at Nadine. I bluntly ask, "Do you two often discuss business during meals?"

Nadine answers, "Every meal, of every day."

Giffard blurts, "And whot business 'ave you with my sister... Vivian, was it?"

I respond sarcastically, "I am a courtesan, and jus' solicited myself to Lady Lowell."

Nadine objects, "I told you, call me Nadine."

I say with my mouth full, "Azh yeh wish, Nadine." Anything to get Giffard angry. I note the tight fists on the knife and fork. After swallowing the chewed-up food, I announce, "I intended to propose that I consult with Nadine, regarding deals and partnerships."

Nadine asks, "Really?"

I focus on her, the last of my bread slice in hand, and I answer, "Absolutely, Nadine. If yeh want, I can recommend where ta channel yer resources." I am still an amateur in budget management, but I might be able to recommend ending contracts with who remains of traffickers, and present the evidence after Lady Death has terminated them. Upon downing the mouthful of bread and egg, I add, "After all, a brill she-wolf such as yourself should be open to other people's opinions."

A blush? From Nadine? Giffard orates, "If you intend ta court 'er, forget it!"

Nadine retorts, "Jus' because you are older than me is no valid reason t-decide who I can bed."

Giffard growls, "Somebody needs to seek the perfect suitor, and Father is not 'ere!" I cannot believe it. Giffard being regulative of his sister? Even now, he surprises me. For one filled with inconsolable rage, and yet being craven, he looks for control of something?

I down the rest of my plate's contents and the juice in front of me as I process what I have just heard.

Nadine scoffs, "You would know nobody who would suit me if they stood right in front of you. Whether I have a Grey Wolf or a Polar Wolf for a mate is not your business, and if I decide that I like women, you can do nothing about it."

Giffard relays a fact. "The duties of a house are passed unto the first-born son."

"And yet you still need me to handle the money and resources. That task is for the lady of the house." So, it is true. "If you married one o' your courtesans, you would have started treating me as if I am dead years ago."

Giffard growls, "That is your mother's fault!" What?

Nadine barks, "Our mother! She knew that you would need a woman, and I am the closest thing to it."

"You forget who to whom she taught the skills needed when coming of age, and the one she treated like a chav!"

"She was still your mother, Giffard."

He snarls, "She was no mother! Rodica knew nothing about the love of a mother or how to raise cubs! She deserved death!" In an instant, Giffard groans and places a hand over his right ear as if someone just screamed into it.

Nadine rebuts, "And yet you cannot face her without hallucinogens. Mother needed a woman, and Father needed a man."

Giffard barks, "You avoid the topic! The methods failed; look where we are now!" He waves an arm as an indication.

Nadine scoffs, "Still blaming someone for your problems."

"The Lowell empire crumbling is as much your plight as it is mine!" How many times have these two talked about this? What could Giffard try to bar from his sister?

Nadine retorts, "Don' pretend I am unaware of you and Lieven taking mercs to Ventine. You still forget how many people answer to me. You funded the properties, but I am the one to consult. If only you control your anger"-

I have enough evidence from their words. I stand up, interrupting, "I seem to have caused an argument, and I want no involvement."

Nadine answers, glaring at her brother, "We have pettifogged such a topic on numerous occasions before."

I insist, "Regardless, I did not come here to listen to you two behave in such a way, let alone portray a moderator." I gaze toward Giffard, noting his malicious demeanour. I then turn to Nadine, adding, "As much as I look forward to appointing myself as your partner, Nadine, I must first propose that our meetings should not be in your manor."

"I highly agree, Miss"--I could be seven or eight years her junior--"And if you insist on departing now, I will not stop you." I gaze to Giffard one last time, seeing the fire in both of his contrasting eyes, and then head out of the dining chamber. In silence, I walk out the door and close it behind me. I should be disappointed, but I am not.

It is night. Even though I have saved young women from rape and driven bullies away from commoners, I cannot take my mind off of what I have learned. I have returned to the square where the ice bears met the Greyhound. Without relaying to Jack what I heard from the Lowell siblings, I took what I could of his statement that his men intercepted a transmission of an urgent message.

Now, I need only see to where this leads. I arrive on time, outside the very townhouse where the dog named Rupert resides. By opening the door by a crack, I can hear them speak. The familiar canine voice speaks, "'Tis better that you read the message, yerself, sir."

I know by the short rustle sound of paper, his boss snatches the page. This dog quietly reads the message. Then, I hear the sound of crumpling. The gruff voice barks, "The guns brought no victory?! Whot the bloody 'ell does that bellend of a bear think I be pullin' on 'er husband?!"

Rupert answers with hesitance, "I-I know not wh-whot Lady Krazniev means, either, s-sir. I-I wos u-unaware of why the intruders a-assaulted Ignisater."

The gruff voice spits, "I- am! The mercs assisted the vigilante! She fuckin' sabotaged the guns!"

Rupert stutters, "T-tis not me f-fault, Mister Coombs."

"I know that! But they don't! Yeh'll be the first they blame!" He follows up with a thump, and then one on the floor. A gun clicks.

Rupert begs, "P-p-please, Mister Coombs." Two gunshots, followed by two other thuds on the floor. "I kin 'elp yeh."

Coombs says coldly, "You cannot. Not when yeh're alive. Take it from me: Lady Krazniev and 'er followers will do worse to you. There are fates worse than being killed." A third bang. The Greyhound falls to the floor. If this is what he intends to do to his two other dealers, their ends are not far away. It has been a week since the ice bears were here and four days since the third client, a gangster badger from Stin, sealed a deal with a Shepherd. I hurry to leave the way I arrived in the square and scale the townhouse from where I observed the trade. Now, I need only persuade Nadine to unbind her connections.

I knock on the door. There Nadine is, in her glory. She says, "Good show, Vivian. Please, come in."

I ask, "Is that a smart idea? Whot about Giffard?"

Nadine, clad in her green dress with golden plates, shrugs, "He is out on errands along with 'is male whore." I still refuse to believe that they are a couple. If so, he would be a hypocrite to disapprove of me getting Nadine to love women.

I walk in. She closes the door. I follow her past the stairs and to the end of the hallway. In the same unit of the manor, is the study. The same marble making up the walls is mostly obscured by the vast bookcases with wheeled ladders. In the centre is a pink floral-patterned couch with an intricate wooden frame and legs, a table covered with papers. At the long rectangular window is a wide desk with an electric lamp.

I join Nadine on the couch just when a cat maid enters with a tray of refreshments. I speak, "Where shall I start proving my worth t-you, M-Lady?"

The white she-wolf asks back, "Where d-you think I should stand as a woman of my stature?"

The cat sets the tray down and fills the two cups with tea when I say sternly, "No charades. I know the same things for which the criminal underworld knows the Lowell House. I know about their conspiracy with criminals."

Nadine chuckles, "We still 'ave the money ta keep witnesses and victims quiet."

I focus on the two teacups, the plate of scones, and the butter saucer. How can I know that she did not order any of those things with poison? I lowly take in a long breath. All that I smell is the aromas of tea and warm butter. I still feel unsteady.

Noting this, she says, "I have no reason to kill you or torture you... yet."

I retort, "I still think that you 'ave poor choice in friends."

Nadine explains, "We take whot we can. Even the nobles go broke. A con artist can convince a wealthy lord to give them everything, even the clothes that he wears. I am like other nobles, doing whot I can to retain the fortune and estate value. I will not deny that both my parents sucked the poor dry. That is what happens in the world o' business. They thought that nobody would miss those who cannot afford to eat. I always agreed with that way. The thugs that my brother and I recruited are people with nothing to lose, but not all animals are equal. We carnivore nobles are the strongest influences on the city. All aristocrats of this city are canines and felines, but only gain that class if they have a known pedigree. My parents claim that they were not reluctant to produce hybrids. So, Giffard and I are recognised for our wealth and estates."

I interrupt, "And for what are the Langdon and Terrecon Houses recognised by the public?"

"Their purebred status and their fortunes." Nadine then asks back, "Why would you want me t-set you up with Lucia?"

Nadine is correct to assume such. "She needs to understand the truth about herself and her son."

Nadine states, "I will consider it." She turns to the table. "Now, tell me whot y-make of this." She presents me one of the pages.

I barely read the text when I admit, "I never learnt to manage money. If you recommend me a budget, I might by far exceed it."

The white she-wolf inquires, "Whot can you tell me about my resources?"

I answer bluntly, "Given recent events, they have oll been wasted."

"I quite concur", she responds nonchalantly. "I received numerous messages that the small-time gangs refuse ta work fer me or Giffard." She shakes her head.

"You accuse yer brother of leading the operations underground."

Nadine explains, "Whilst we 'ave funded people of shady practises, Giffard 'as been insistent upon focusing the manual labour and investments on weapons. I denied him such for as long as we 'ave worked together, and continued to pool investments in drugs."

I sigh. "Giffard is correct this time." This surprises Nadine, shooting her gaze at me. "I am aware of the killings of Giffard's... conspirators... So, I assume that there is no point in hiring recruiters or overseeing drug manufacturing anymore."

Nadine points out, "I still have one more recruiter. She now refuses to answer to our letters, and when her telephone rings and she knows that 'tis Giffard or me, she hangs up." She still has done horrible things that cannot go unpunished.

I inquire, "Do you not hold any more deeds to factories?"

"Our rival is challenging our people to claim our last two here, as 'is territory." Then I shall help Jack along so that we can continue working together.

I steer the topic back. "I must get to the point. Knowing that now your drug operation is broken beyond repair, there is no point in investing in it anymore."

"I concur, but something must be done. I am well aware of a storage that wos compromised and a large sum taken from the house's funds. The problem is that we can only stockpile now. I knew that I would need do so before Giffard insisted."

I interrupt, "Let me guess: you began your stockpiling before consulting with 'im."

"For obvious reasons", she answers casually. She then states, "You would be no Symphonite if you dislike tea." She has to be suspicious of me now.

I parry, "I would assume that an aristocrat would buy fine tea. If My Lady enjoys her tea of a high-quality brew, she would have not let it get cold."

Nadine chuckles. She must have figured it out: where there is the she-wolf with the eyepatch, there is the vigilante. She counters back, "By that logic, I would gobble the scones and butter before you get the chance." Pause. "There is no sense wasting it." I take the cup and saucer nearer to me, and hand it to her. She eagerly swigs from it.

As she slices into the butter and spreads it over a scone, I state, "The only thing on which is worth banking, My Lady, is the stock of weapons." I will repeat that a hundred times if I have to.

She mutters, "No shit." I pause, surprised that she would swear like that. We Symphonites are known by other countries to be polite. Then again, we are no strangers to organised crime. Nadine turns to me after wiping her muzzle, speaking, "The problem is the access to employees. We can buy the materials, but we still need people to assemble the weapons."

I change the subject yet again. "We can figure it out later. I might care more about your connection with Lucia."

She scoffs. "This again? Whot is so damn important about that sulky bint?"

"I still feel a responsibility for 'er son. If I cannot get through to 'er, she is too far gone."

"I will contact her. I will claim that yeh're lookin' ter invest in 'er stock." She clarifies, "She 'as a tycoon on mining. That is all I wish t-say about 'er."

I hear an unexpected slam. I instinctively turn to the doorway of the study. I listen to fumbling with a jacket, followed by stamping on the tiled floor. I eagerly stand up as the fast footsteps approach. Giffard makes his presence known, but stops outside the doorway, loosening his scarlet tie from his white business shirt.

Nadine asks nonchalantly, "Is there a problem, Brother?"

The tempered wolf throws his undone tie to the floor, growling, "You know fully bloody well what problem!"

I weigh in, "You could tell me."

He is right to not trust me as Nadine only agreed to me to spite him. He says, "The source is our merchandise. Hyatt jus' told me that he terminated Darla, and may need do the same to Horace."

Nadine exaggerates an aghast feat. "'Tis not my fault he did whot he could to protect our assets."

Undoing the button below his collar, Giffard snarls, "Don' speak ta me as if I am a fuckin' berk!"

Nadine says nonchalantly, "I tried." She stands up and adds, "I see the way ta make frustration lessen."

"I forgive you, Nadine. I will not impede upon that order of business."

Giffard howls, "She knows?!" He raises a finger, about to add something, but he closes it, and then tightens his fist. I watch as Nadine exits the study and follows Giffard. I sigh. I wonder if they ever do it in this very chamber or the dining hall.

With the siblings out of my range, I take the other teacup. I sniff it thoroughly, and then sample it. I would know if there is a drug by tasting. I have a scone as well. Delicious. Giffard and Nadine probably ignore their servants' baking expertise. House servants obtain numerous skills, and such talents are wasted on belittling masters.

Suddenly, curiosity gets to me. Before seeking confirmation if what Nadine has said about her activities with Giffard is true, I down the rest of the tea and scones as I read the documents that she has left here. Much of them are ledgers on massive withdrawals in the past two weeks. No doubt, they have a vault in the manor. If only I could destroy the money that they keep here. If both siblings have lost their trust in the Bank, who can they trust? I also find records of transactions to other companies, likely the mills from where Nadine buys materials. That gives me an idea of how to get them to empty the well.

I am wrong on the first guess where the master bedroom is, but I do find a large safe with a combination lock. It will be a waste when the notes are thrown into the river or made fireplace fodder. When I cross the hall to the west wing, the first door turns out to be to the master bedroom. I curiously check the next room, to find cots and small cabinets. I want to vomit at how the Lowell siblings treat their house staff as indicated by their quarters. There is another door, which is to the primary bed chamber.

I have missed next to nothing. Both Giffard and Nadine are unclad, the grey and brown licks standing out well in their white pelts. Nadine lays flat on her back. Though I cannot see her face, she comes off as bored. Giffard is bent over on his knees, his legs flat, as he forcefully licks his sister's clits. He takes no break from lapping the rim, or when he sticks his tongue inside. I can see all this just from the door between the two chambers open a crack. I cannot see where Giffard's arms are, but he has not parted Nadine's legs. The odour of his arousal is evident from where I stand, yet I hear no moans or exhales that express pleasure. All that I see of these two is Giffard's arse, raised tail, and back, and Nadine's legs. Their pelts are still too thick for their shape to be discernible.

I hear a growling mutter at what should be a pinnacle moment. If only I could make out his words. Giffard is stiff now, for he raises his body to face his sister. All too fast, he slides his maleness inside Nadine's vagina, and starts rutting. Giffard rocks back and forth, not lessening his pace, holding Nadine's hips with both hands. He mutters with a growl again. She makes no sound of pleasure at all despite Giffard's act. His growling continues, too. Still, there is no indication of adrenaline from Nadine. Is this how it is?

No more sense in watching. I carefully shut the door, though I am sure that the white she-wolf saw me. I casually stride to the stairs, knowing that their bedroom door is closed. The question is what the servants would say about me observing those two.