One blue Gem. Part 1

BONG-BONG! BONG-BONG!

Hiram Longtail sluggishly raised his fox-like head. His triangular ears pivoted instinctively.  

"Hnnnnn…" He growled. "Whatwuzdat?"

BONG-BONG! BONG-BONG!

It took a minute for Hiram's sleep-addled mind to recognize the sound. It was the second Waking Bell, meant to wake up heavy sleepers.

A massive yawn escaped Hiram's muzzle, threatening to split it in half. He rubbed a crusty eye with a paw and collapsed back into his sleeping nest.

"Just five more minutes, then I'll get up."

The ornate door to Hiram's sleeping chamber creaked open. Something like an icy fist splashed onto the sleeping nest. Hiram yelped, his voice suddenly much more feminine.

A graying servant stood at the door, a dripping bucket in his hand. "Your Fathers requested that I wake you for the newsun meal." He said.

"D-d-d-did-he-ask-y-y-y-you-to-use-icew-w-w-water" Hiram sputtered.

The servant grinned slightly, "No, that was my own initiative" .

Hiram clambered out of his nest, trying to shake off the ice-cold well water. "Tell him that I'll be in the Dining Hall shortly."

"At once." The servant bowed and ran off. Hiram slowly padded towards the bathing hall, shivering as if

he'd been Shaved. Why hadn't that man been fired yet?

-

A few minutes over a drying vent and a quick combing later, Hiram stepped into sizable private closet.

"Now what shall I wear?"

Though his race was covered in fur, it was considered uncouth for someone of Hiram's standing to go without some kind of covering, and Hiram certainly wasn't lacking for that. His wardrobe was immense. There was a coat for all occasions, be they a Hotsun ball, or an Endyear festival.

Hiram rummaged through his closet and pulled out a jewel- studded black silk coat. It was a modest covering, costing about a two-days wages, but Hiram was in too much of a hurry to care. He then snapped on a pair of silver-plated claw-gaurds that'd he'd been meaning to wear for awhile.They showed that whoever wore them was rich enough to afford not getting his claws dirty.  Who cared if they made him look somewhat vixenish?  

The bedroom door creaked open again. It was the servant from before, carrying another bucket of water.
"So you're still  out of bed. A shame that this bucket of ice water will have to go to waste."

Hiram needed no explanation. "Tell my Fathers I'll be down as soon as possible!"

"Fine then. I'll tell them that you'll be down in time for evening meal."

The servant sped off, barely dodging a thrown tail warmer.

"Why can't we have servants that actually respect their masters?" Hiram grumbled. He selected a tail-ring of silver-inlaid lacquered cedar from his collection, and  a polished cedar swagger stick and full credit bracelet completed the get up.

Hiram brushed some lint off his coat and dashed out the bedroom door.

After a hearty breakfast, Hiram gathered his study books and headed out the Den's front hatch. A servant waited with a carriage.
"No thank you, I'll walk." Hiram said to the driver. It was beautiful day today and he wanted to enjoy it. Sure he'd probably be late for classes, but Hiram didn't care. He was a Longtail. He was untouchable.
-
   

The Longtail Den was one of the oldest and most prestigious Dens in Spika. Residing in the affluent city of Hilltop, Its members where known fortheir affinity for politics and unusually long tails (hence the name). Longtails had founded the first settlement on the then-uncharted continent, helped draft the country's then-revolutionary Constitution, and had helped broker a peace with the Empire of Leena. Some had said that without the Longtail Den, there would be no Republic of Spika.

Unfortunately, when you belonged to a Den as powerful as the Longtail's, you tended to be a bit…vain.

-

Hiram took out a pocket mirror worth about two days wages. He grinned. "Lustrous pelt, immaculate claws, and teeth whiter than the snows of North Leena. No vixen can possibly resist me."

Tucking the mirror back into a pocket, Hiram twirled his swagger stick impishly. What a beautiful day; last night's rainstorm had really done wonders with Hilltop. The city's brick streets seemed to be made of pure diamond. The watch spires, a remnant of Hilltop's early days, were like giant glittering needles. Whisps of steam wafted from the sun-warmed brick, like spirits returning to the Great Beyond.



BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG!
Hiram's ears rose. That would be the 4 Chime. Class had just started. At the rate Hiram was progressing, he wouldn't arrive at school for another 15 time-parts. Not that Hiram cared; he'd just get a stern lecture on the values of punctuality from the headmaster, but that was it.


Hiram took a deep whiff; Hilltop also smelled good today. The air was filled with all kinds of scents: The wheatey smell of bread from the Baker Dens. The primal tang of meat from the Carver Dens. Sure there were plenty of less desirable smells: garbage, dirt, sweat and the like, but Hiram wasn't one to dwell on the negatives.

"pleasantmorning Squirrel."

Hiram bristled. "Who said that?!" He growled. Noone ever called him Squirrel and got away with it!

"Behind you, tree climber".

Hiram whipped around, holding his swagger stick like a club.

"I'll clobber you, you insolent little…"

Hiram stopped in mid-rant. A heavyset brown fox stood behind him, his expensive coat barely
containing his ample belly."Oh, hello Max."

The fox smiled. "Its been a while, Hiram." He took out a wood-inlaid pocket watch. ""Shouldn't you be in class now?"

"You know me, Max. Always fashionably late."

Max chuckled." 'Tis a good thing that yo're a Longtail. Otherwise the Headmaster would have your tail nailed to his trophy wall."

"Indeed." Hiram said. He and Max had been friends since cubhood. Unlike Hiram, he was quite the smartmouth. His Den was one of Spicka's largest weapon manufacturer, churning out everything from rifles to heavy artillery. With the increased tensions between The Spickan Republic and the Leenan Empire, weapons were in great demand. Max's den had grown fat and happy on a diet of military contracts.

"Um, Hiram." Max interrupted. "I think someone's trying t'get your attention.

Hiram looked over his shoulder. A young human was tugging on his coat.

"Please goodsir, can you spare this one a gem?"

A terrible stench flooded Hiram's nostrils; it was like sweat impregnated with sewage.
Hiram recoiled at the stench of unwashed human. " No, get away!" he growled, yanking his coat from the human's grasp.

"Yeah, go back to your trees ya filthy monkey!" Max added. Like Hiram, he wasn't exactly fond of humans.

Humans had to be one of the most pathetic races in the World. Refugees from the war-torn country of Anfroh, they were clumsy, flat-faced, and disturbingly bald. Their sense of smell was so weak they were practically scent-blind. Their oversized muscles, far larger than any fox's, gave them an almost comical appearance. How so many of them had made it through Gateway Island was anyone's guess. Hiram suspected bribes had something to do with it.

The human dropped to his knees. "Please goodsir, this ones' family hasn't eaten in two days. They need food!"
Hiram flicked his tail in exasperation. "Then go see a foodgiver!" He growled. Was this human stupid as well as smelly?

The human shook his dirt-covered head. "They won't let this one near the food stores. They say this one can go back to eating weeds."

Hiram's brows furrowed. "That's a serious accusation you're making, boy."

"…And a lamed one at that." Max chimed in. "I oughta have you shaved right now."
"'Tis not a lie, goodsir." the boy said. He pulled off his ragged shirt. Hiram's gorge rose at the sight of the furless skin.

"Look, one of the foodgivers scratched this one when he asked."

Suppressing his gag reflex, Hiram took a close look at the human's chest. Four dark red claw marks ran across the pinkish flesh.

The boy put his shirt back on. "Please, goodsir…"

Hiram stood there, not sure what to think. He had no love for humans; they were taking jobs from honest Spickans, corrupting traditional values with their barbaric ways, and smelled funny. But the right to sustenance was one of Spicka's most cherished laws. For a foodgiver to deny someone, even a human, of his Creator-given sustenance was a serious crime, punishable by a full-body Shaving.

"C'mon Hiram, lets go." Max drawled. "He probably jus' ran a dagger over his chest" "You know how humans are!"
The well-dressed fox sighed. His paw went to his credit bracelet.

Max flicked his tail. "Hiram, what r'ya doing?!"

Hiram ignored his friend. He plucked a blue gem from his bracelet and pressed it into the boy's hand.

"There, ten credits. Spend them wisely"

The human's eyes lit up like incandescent bulbs. "Thank you so much goodsir!" He wrapped his furless arms around Hiram.
Hiram pushed the boy off of him. "I suggest you leave now, before I change my mind."

The boy gave a human headbob. He ran off down the cobblestone street, clutching the gems as if they would float away.

"This one will pay you back someday!" the human yelled, disappearing into the morning crowd.

-


Max slapped his forehead in exasperation. Hiram's ears drooped; he had just given credits to a human. Max was never going to let him hear the end of this.

"Hiram, have ya'…"

BONG! BONG! BONG!  

Max's scolding was cut off by Hilltop's Announcement bell. Hiram's ears perked up; a three-strike? But it
was only slightly past 4; far too early for the News. The Schedule was never broken…unless something terrible had happened.

Citizens rushed toward the town square, crowding around the Speaking Mound like it was a giant pastry. A News-teller walked up to the earthen mound, nervously shuffling his notes. He cleared his throat:

"Now hear this, Now hear this!" The Teller yelped, a faint tremor in his voice. "The Leenan Prime Minister… has been assassinated!"

The whole town seemed to gasp as one.

"At 2 Evening, Leenan Prime Minister Ferd Franzinand was traveling to the Treaty Reassurance
Conference at Aibres when his carriage was ambushed by a lone gunman."

The News-Teller continued. Before the Leenan Royal Guard dispatched him, the assassin managed to fire two shots into the Prime Minister's carriage, killing him instantly. "

A tremor ran through the Teller's body, "Leenan officials have declared the assassination an act of aggression, and are…

Hiram didn't bother listening to the rest of the Teller's announcement. This could only mean one thing: war.

Truth be told, Hiram wasn't all that surprised by the announcement. In fact, he doubted anyone was too surprised by the announcement. Leena and Spicka had been bitter enemies for over 200 Spins. Their last truce was only 50 spins old. It'd only been a matter of time before the powder keg exploded.

As the Teller droned on, Hiram considered his options. He was a loyal Spickan. Had been since the day he was born. What better thing for him to do than join the Army? With his family's wealth, he could buy an officer's commission, bravely leading men into battle while enjoying the pleasure s of his rank in his off duty hours. That, and he heard the vixens liked a fox in uniform…  






To Be Continued