Epilogue: The Peaceful Fire

An empty tankard slammed onto the counter of Duke's Tavern with a thunk.

"More."

It was the only word the older fox had spoken for the past hour. Wallace was known to be a heavy drinker, especially after collecting on one of his private shipments. However, there was no celebration of a completed transaction this evening. The older gray fox was quiet, alone, drank slowly, and practically hummed with tension.

A solemn gloss coated his eyes, half from the mead and half from his mood. No one had ever seen the fox this distressed before. Normally, Wallace was always striking deals, loaning coin to desperate mammals, and working to find some leverage to blackmail his enemies. Even when he was angry, the conniving Wallace Talison was always seeking his own ends.

This night, that was all behind him. It was what lay ahead of him that had him distraught. He looked down at his paw, which held a freshly filled tankard of mead. He stared into the drink, as if expecting it to answer an unspoken question. He slowly pushed it to the side, slumping back in his seat. A long sigh escaped his mouth.

This is all that cursed Wilde's fault.

Slamming his fists onto the counter, the fox whined as he lowered his head. It didn't matter what he did or said…the end result was the same. The sentence was already decided, and belladonna flower he had found earlier that day upon his door was evidence enough for him.

His most powerful clients were upset.

The irony is that the fox knew this was a possibility. It had been over a decade since he was first approached by a well-dressed ram about shipping goods for an unnamed and very affluent client. Wallace was given nearly four times the pay he normally would receive for shipping a small amount of unidentified goods without any questions. Not one to turn down good money, Wallace accepted the job and several similar ones later. After several deliveries, however, he was offered a celebratory drink by the same well-dressed ram.

The next thing Wallace remembered was waking up in a darkened room, sitting across from a mammal shrouded in shadow, his face obscured by a dark hood.

"Fortunam invenit, tu accipere?"

"What…I dinnae ken what yer sayin'. Where-"

"Fortune has found you, Talison. Do you accept it?" The mammal then placed two items on the table where Wallace sat. The first was a Tarsen gold, the second a belladonna flower. The enigmatic mammal said Wallace had two choices represented by the items: a path of financial security, or a path that ended rather abruptly. Wallace chose the former path and never looked back and never questioned it.

Not even as the shipments got bigger.

Not even as the deliveries were expected faster.

Not even as members of his crew vanished after asking too many questions.

Not even as he lost a paw as punishment for being late on a delivery.

Wallace wasn't stupid. He knew who he was working for, and what they intended to do with the items he was delivering. The steady flow of work at odd times and seemingly random intervals kept him in business and, of course, always took precedence over other work. It was a good gig, and he intended on keeping it up as long as he could.

Until that blasted fox ruined it.

His client only offered one warning for minor infractions, and was very clear on what happened when their goals were threatened. Wilde's betrayal led the wolf, a high ranking capital dog, to his boat on the eve of one of his largest deliveries. The goods never arrived at their intended destination.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he was approached, just as he was when he lost his paw. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was punished. After all, the Serenus Igne were not known for their graciousness.

He just didn't know it would be so quick. The flower showed up, pinned to his door, not as a warning, but as a decree. He could run, but they'd find him. He could hide, but they'd find him.

Hours went by, until Wallace was the last patron in the bar that night. Sitting at Duke's Tavern, drinking his favorite mead, Wallace knew it wouldn't be long.

The door to the tavern opened, allowing a small gust of wind to blow into the room. A mammal entered, shrouded in a dark cloak. Moving silently, he moved next to the distraught fox and sat, motioning to the bartender. The old badger silently nodded and left them alone.

"Mortem invenit."

Wallace recognized the voice, it was the same one that gave him the choice all those years ago. He looked up, avoiding looking directly at the figure next to him. He shook slightly as he raised his paws to his face.

"It wisnae me fault…"

A drink was on the counter in front of Wallace. A gloved paw pushed it closer to him.

"Tu accipere?"

"It wisnae me fault!" shouted the fox. "It was that blasted wolf, that forsaken fox, Wilde!" He turned and grabbed the cloaked figure by his shoulders. "I'd've gotten yer goods to ye, I swear it!"

"It doesn't matter." The frigid words cut into Wallace's spirit. He held the cloaked mammal and looked directly into his face, seeking any type of pity. The face was as cold as his words.

"But I…I…"

"You have two paths before you once again, Talison," the figure said as he motioned towards the tankard. "Accept this cup willingly, or it shall be forced upon you later."

"I served…I served ye for so long without any problems…"

"Your inability to protect our goods did not go unnoticed by the Consul." He picked up the tankard and placed it firmly in Wallace's paw. "However, due to your honorable service, the cup of wrath rests in your own control."

Wallace lowered his eyes to the tankard. "That blasted wolf, that blasted fox…they did this…."

"Mortem expectans, Talison."

"That cursed Nicholas Wilde! It's all his doin'! And that horrid bunny!"

The cloaked mammal simple rose from his seat, walking away from the fox. "This is the will of the Fires, Talison. We are the flames that purge the world of unrighteousness. Iniquity cannot be ignored." He stopped at the door, opening it and allowing the cool night air in. "Judgment comes now or later, your choice." Seeing the fox reluctantly put the tankard to his lips and drink, the cloaked ocelot left the tavern and closed the door.

He knew the poison would quickly carry out the sentence for Wallace Talison. Moving swiftly, he meandered through the darkened alleys of the city. He was nigh invisible, concealed by night and his black cloak, but he was unable to escape the sight of another mammal. As he reached his destination, he turned to see another black cloak standing near him.

"Hail, Gladio," he called.

"Hail, my Praetor," the gruff boar replied.

The ocelot removed his hood, looking to the other cloaked mammal. "Did you find out where they are headed?"

"They are going east, along the coast. They may be headed for Cainston. Shall I follow?"

"No. Get there before them. Take Sicar with you." He gently stroked on his chin. "Gladio, do not overtake them. For now, merely observe the rabbit. Let's see how this plays out."

"And the fox?"

The ocelot smiled coyly. "He may still be of use to us." He waved his paw towards the boar. "Go."

"Yes, Praetor." As swiftly as he came, the boar disappeared into the shadows around them.

Opening the door to the Governor's Hall, the ocelot removed his cloak and waved to the night guard.

"Welcome back, Magistrate," called the stoat guard. "Enjoy the night air?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be retiring to my chamber now. Remain stalwart."

Oswald Purrington entered his chambers, taking a moment to sit at the desk where he often studied. Strewn about the surface were countless notes and documents, all full of information concerning a certain red fox.

"Where are you going, and what are you hiding, Nicholas Wilde?"