TRADE: Red in Vulane [Ch. 2]

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<<Chapter 1: LINK>>

Halfway through her journey, Red decided to throw the whiskey in a stream and think of a different way to make money. It was somewhat dark, but not the supernatural darkness of the sewers. Red thought about not returning to Vulane at all but she was a ranger, not a druid.

She made her way back to Vulane empty-handed. She couldn’t stay at the Bloody Mug again-- obviously, the fox knew she stayed there.

Red, exhausted, went instead to the local Tyrian church being careful to avoid the street toughs and other things lurking on the streets of Vulane. She knew Tyr -- the God of Justice -- well, and although she didn’t necessarily agree with everything that Tyr stood for, it seemed like the only alternative to the Reynardian temple.

She knocked lightly on one of the long glass windows of the stately little white building and... nothing. She knocked again, and saw a lamplight turn on at the other end of the dark room inside. Shortly, the front door opened and a female rabbit in long pajamas holding a lamp answered. Behind her, Red could make out the full plate armor of two armed paladins-- possibly wolves.

“Ah ma’am, I’m Red, a newcomer here, and I was wondering if you have anywhere to stay?”

The little rabbit was somewhat confused. “Somewhere to stay?”

“I just came to Vulane, and I need somewhere to stay.”

“Why-- why are you out here in the middle of the night?”

Red sighed. “I was on an errand for that Reynardian priest. I abandoned that errand, needless-to-say. I can explain, but I just- I just need a place to stay.”

“Well, first, let me introduce myself-- I am the Lieutenant Cleric Sandra Longfoot. You were on an errand for Priest O’Savern?”

Red looked around nervously. She was almost in plain sight. She saw the shadows across the street move. She sighed angrily: “Yes.”

“In the middle of the night?”

Red leaned in conspiratorially, with a hint of exasperation just thinking about Jack O’Savern. “You can see why I need somewhere safe to stay.”

The rabbit turned and spoke in whispers to her two companions.

“You cannot stay in the church of Tyr unless you convert, Red, and the barracks are for warriors who have signed their lives to Tyr. But I see our friend Priest O’Savern across the way!”

Red closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath.

“Well, well,” his cheerful voice rang out on the empty streets. “This is good! You finished your task already, miss Red?”

“No,” Red turned around and said harshly, “No, I didn’t. I’m not an idiot.”

O’Savern’s smiling face slowly melted. “Wh- So... so the goblins didn’t receive their order?”

Sandra interrupted: “Jack, Red, please come in.”

Within a few minutes, they were sitting around an oval table covered in maps and candles.

Red had had enough: “N-- pff, no I didn’t deliver your foul whiskey!”

There was a pause which Lieutenant Longfoot interrupted: “They... so Priest O’Savern asked you to deliver some whiskey to goblins through the forest, and he failed to tell you it was dangerous?”

The fox jumped in: “I definitely explained how dangerous it was. I should have also told her not to drink the whiskey herself as it was magically enhanced, but I thought that unnecessary.”

Red exploded: “I didn’t drink that liquid you sent me with!”

Jack gave a knowing look to the rabbit sitting across from him: “Sandra, I apologize. I needed someone right away, and she seemed...” He paused to consider her. “...desperate.”

Red scowled, her fangs barred. Jack continued.

“--And now the goblins will be ‘sober’ and bothering the town.  I wanted it done at night so that the populace wouldn’t worry about why a jackal was carrying booze through town, but...”

Red started and replied. “Wait, why did I have to pick up that alcohol in the sewer?”

Sandra, feeling like a judge, rested her little furry face on her little hand, a glazed look in her eyes.

“The... the sewer? You mean the Bloody Mug?”

“No you little rat, the sewer! You had me pick up the whiskey at one in the morning in the sewer!”

The fox seemed stumped. “I-- what?” He quickly regained composure. “Listen Sandra, Red: This conversation has reached its natural conclusion. It is beginning to turn, like rancid pea soup.”

Sandra chuckled as Jack smiled. Jack stood to leave, and bowed to the two huge paladins who had stood watch over the strange meeting. He then bowed to the two ladies.

Red noticed that Sandra held her smile a little too long after Jack’s ‘pea soup’ comment.


Red was escorted out after some hasty apologies by Lt. Longfoot and spent the night on the street in the light rain that was constantly falling. She shivered through the night... and hatched a plan.

The next morning, shivering, she entered the Reynardian garden looking for Jack. Her clothes were ragged now, clinging to her and her wet fur. The string quartet that she had heard earlier stopped and regarded her sadly. They got up and helped her to see Jack in his study.

The fox greeted her with a little more concern than Red expected. He placed a blanket on a chair by a roaring fire and offered Red some wine. Even though Red didn’t feel like it, she offered him a smile.

“Red,” Jack said, his wine in hand, “why didn’t you deliver the whiskey?”

She sipped the wine, red wine by the looks of it.

He spoke again as Red looked into the fire. “It’s okay. I, er, wish you had said that you felt wrong about this... I mean, you seemed a little skittish when we first met, but you should have asked some questions or- or something...”

Red squeezed her eyes shut and let out a tear. Jack seemed genuinely upset, but Red couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry about lying about the sewers, Red...” Jack leaned forward to look into her face. “You shouldn’t try to embarrass people who you do not know, truly. Sandra and I have cultivated our relationship, and now our religions are at peace! Is that... is that why you left your homeland?”

Red looked from the fireplace to her wine, back to the fireplace. “Yes, but it was the badgers versus the weasels where I came from.”

Jack quietly and slowly leaned back. “Well, the badgers do seem to be a pretty aggressive lot.”

Red looked over to Jack, hunching her shoulders to move the blanket further up her neck.

“Listen, Red... I think that Vulane disagrees with you. There is a fishing skiff on the wharf that trades with a galleon every week, and it leaves tonight. Here is a letter I’ve written-- go ahead and give it to the captain.”

Red looked at the letter in Jack’s hand. “Er, thanks... I guess you’ve outsmarted me.”

Jack sighed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Red.”

Red looked up from her wine: “No, this is for the best.” She stood to her feet, placing the wine on the little table between them. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Red descended the gilded staircase into the main chapel, trying to seem easy as she fell under the gaze of several cats, weasels, and a vixen. It was the vixen from the garden, diamonds still shimmering in her head fur: Jack’s mate. She waved gently at Red, a somewhat sorrowful look on her face.

Red clenched her fists as she exited the garden. She headed to wharf, and then --when she was sure that there were no eyes watching her-- threw the letter on the ground, ducked under some construction, and darted into ‘the Cuts’ -- the poor side of Vulane -- in the hopes of finding a way to get back at that cur...