The First Penitatas
Chapter 29 - Guildmoot
A new day had yet to dawn before there was another task to do. It was, Skal supposed as he was dragged from the warm embrace of his bed, only to be expected of life within the Enforcer's Guild. This time the duty wasn't chasing down a criminal, nor suffering some noble-decreed penitatas punishment. His fate revolved around something much more mundane, a facet of life that had been present long before Rejuvenation and would endure as long as Taviksaad endured: the Guildmoot.
Still yawning in the back of the car, as it was criminally early still, the young Penny was escorted by Kadan to a high-class tailors on the outskirts of the Palace Common district. The Kyyreni boy knew it was high-class because it made no effort whatsoever to tell passers-by it was a tailors. The frontage was that of an old-world country house rather than a store, and through the imported wooden doors was a waiting room that could easily be mistaken for an art gallery. Against the far wall were two floor-to-ceiling glass cases, each containing a mannequin dressed in ceremonial attire. That was the sole example of clothing present in the room; all else was seating for the patrons, or fine art for them to admire.
At his side, Sam gawped at the splendour of the place and whispered, "No way this is the right place!"
"Keep smart, and keep quiet," Kadan growled as he ushered Skal and Sam through the doors. He was dressed in his smartest uniform, and had likewise ensured his two charges were smartly presented.
The room had over a dozen occupants already. As the trio looked for seating an elderly Dawnsider summoned a group of clients through, providing a space for them to occupy. Everyone in attendance displayed connections to Guilds or Houses overtly about their person, from crests on clothes or jewelry to the double-handed houseblades worn openly by the guards of House Tavik. To the surprise of the Pennys, it appeared the nobility were being overlooked today; barely a minute after arriving a second group of Guilders were summoned, and the women of House Tavik were still waiting for a tailor when a young Dawnsider female emerged and called, "Kadan of the Enforcer's Guild?"
The tailor escorted the trio to a fitting room, a large, padded space with scented candles and pleasant background music. A selection of devices had been set out on a silvered trolley, some of which looked less like instruments of measurement and more like tools for torture. "Have the youths been fitted for a formal collar before?" the tailor asked as the door sighed closed behind Kadan.
"No, first time for both of them."
She took the answer with a nod. Without looking at her clients she gestured to a bench. "Have the slaves remove their clothes and place them there. I trust you have made arrangements for the gorget? If not, I'm afraid it will be far too late to order one."
"That's been taken care of, they just need the collar fittings," Kadan answered as he took a seat. "Sam, come here. I'll give you a hand."
"The boy first, please." The female turned to face Skal as he removed his last items of clothing. With a curt hand gesture she beckoned him forward and began to take measurements of his wrists and ankles. "I was under the impression your Guild did not present slaves to the Guildmoot. Something about not wishing to belittle an agent of the Lord's authority?"
"They're penitatas, they're not supposed to have the Lord's authority," Kadan answered. The tailor paused in her work and turned Skal's palm over in search of a mark. With a growl, the captain added "How about you just take my word on that?"
"No insult was intended, sir." she paused to make notes on a pad attached to her thigh before standing up and retrieving a truly unpleasant looking device. It was a small metal box with a large padded ring on one end. At her touch the ring slid open and the padding deflated. "Keep still now, boy. This will be tight, and you may find it distressing. However, the result will be a collar that fits snug without choking. I want you to remain calm and relaxed, if that is possible."
Skal nodded obediently. The tailor pushed his paws down to his sides and eased the ring around his neck. The snap of its closing made him flinch, and that tension swiftly returned when he felt the padding inflate. "Relax," the tailor instructed calmly, but the moment he did so the collar tightened again. It took much longer for him to settle, and each time he did so the device squeezed his neck in new and different ways, becoming tighter or looser apparently at random.
"I-" the boy began, only to have the tailor physically clamp his muzzle shut with her paw.
"You will not speak," she told him, before muttering a series of numbers and writing them on her thigh-pad. She seemed content with her chosen settings, which were much too tight for the boy's liking. Then, to Skal's surprise, she pressed a straw to his lips. "Take a mouthful and hold it -" he did, and more adjustments followed "-now swallow."
That was not an easy order to follow as the device around his neck was practically choking him. Once he'd forced the water down past the ring at his neck, the tailor adjusted a few values and made him sip again. This time the device let his throat move enough that he could swallow without discomfort, and with that the infernal device was finally removed. It was Sam's turn next, and he was allowed to dress while she was subjected to the same ordeal as Skal had been.
After both rejuves had been partially strangled, the tailor turned to address Kadan once more. "Formal collars and bindings will be ready in one week. There is another matter to address, however."
"It's taken care of," Kadan answered. The tailor's eyes had subtly focused on Sam's bandaged stumps.
"I'm glad to hear that. One would hate for so essential a Guild to be seen poorly at such a grand occasion. We are finished here."
The trio departed, passing through the ornate waiting area again as House Tavik finally received their summons. Behind the rejuves, Kadan let out an audible sigh of relief when they were back onto the streets. "One less thing to deal with," he said for no-one's benefit but his own.
"I don't see why we had to be naked for that," Sam whined as she was helped into the waiting car.
"Well you'll be naked at the moot, so get used to it," Kadan countered. The blonde Kyyreni girl gave an unhappy grunt at the news. Once settled in her seat, she raised her arms and looked at the bandages, "what did she mean about needing to 'address' this?"
"You're getting prosthetics, or did you already forget why I had you taken into hospital?"
"It's just the way she said it," Sam pressed, clearly intent on being unhappy, but a warning growl told her Kadan's patience for the conversation was running out, and she kept all further concerns to herself for the remainder of the trip. Instead, she turned her focus to Skal, "At least I can have a nap when we get home. No-one should have to be up this early!"
"No naps, you're going straight to school," Kadan cut in just before his communicator chirruped, "Hold on. Driver, take us back to the Office, fast as you like. Seems we've got a delivery waiting, and it'll make a lot of things easier if we go get it first."
The delivery was waiting in a downstairs office, along with Haal, Kas and Torn, all of whom were studying the sleek black case with quiet interest as Kadan led the Pennys inside. "They're a gift from friends in high places," he said cryptically, addressing their obvious curiosity. "Haal? Do the honours."
The Medicalos obeyed. The clasps popped open with a heavy thud. As the lid lifted the boy's eyes widened in surprise at what lay within. It was a pair of artificial limbs were skeletal things of corrosion-resistant metal, with separated casings that were close to the lion-blonde of Sam's fur. "Give that here," Kadan said as he took one to assemble. Haal the other. The covers left gaps through which the wires, control boxes and support frames could still be seen, but the instructions indicated they were assembled properly. With care, Sam's bandages were removed and the protective caps beneath were taken off, revealing metal sockets embedded into swollen, reddened flesh. The sight of how fresh the surgical work was made the girl whimper, but nevertheless she offered her limbs so Kadan and Haal could each slot an arm in place.
The girl yelped in pain as they clicked home, each limb's fingers twitching sharply as it made contact. Moments later, the casings adjusted themselves, swelling and shifting like putty to properly conceal the internal systems. Curious, Kadan gave one arm a squeeze. "Doesn't feel-"
"I felt that!" Sam shrieked with glee. Kadan pulled his paw away, thinking he might have hurt her, but the girl immediately began poking her left augmentic forearm with the fingers of her right. "I can feel! Oh, it feels so weird! It's like poking a shampoo bottle!"
Skal couldn't resist taking a turn. Her limbs didn't feel like flesh, but there was a slight amount of give. It felt more like warm, soft metal or plastic. Sam took the opportunity to run a paw along his muzzle. "Your fur feels different," she said with a hint of apprehension.
Haal, who had lived with implants for over two decades offered his thoughts. "A direct one-to-one recreation of your old senses is not always possible. You'll have to relearn touch, I'm afraid, and given that your arms now perceive sensation differently to the rest of you this might be disorientating at first. Does Skal's fur feel unpleasant?"
Sam shook her head, now stroking Skal with both mechanical paws. "It's hard to describe. I think you feel warm? It still feels nice though."
"How did you get her a set of arms like that in the first place?" Torn asked. It was no exaggeration to say the limbs were worth more than the entirety of his life savings.
"They're a sponsorship for the Guildmoot. A friend of the Guild wanted us to have something prestigious for the event. Alright, Sam, hands off him. School's waiting for the pair of you and if you get in the car now you might actually be on time!" The Kyyreni girl's muzzle went pale, but whatever protest she was about to make died on her tongue as Kadan added, "Don't spoil a good day by causing trouble."
Being driven to the front door of the Penny School was a pleasant change, if only because it spared them a walk in the subterranean cold of the Darkside district. For Sam especially, however, it was a trip wrought with anxieties over what would await her. Her fears were only worsened when the school came into view with a crowd outside, few in number but listening with eager attention to a brown-robed preacher whose cult she knew all too well.
"Behold, this place of vile corruption!" the preacher cried, gesturing dramatically towards the school. "Here, the scum and degenerates of our society come to be educated! But who provides these lectures? Why, we do, paid for by our taxes! And who teaches in this school? A man who once schooled the children of nobles! Who here could ever hope to win such a boon for your own flesh and blood? Such a privilege for the worst of our society, whilst honest, law-abiding citizens like you and I get nothing!"
"Alright, that's enough!" Kadan called out as he left the vehicle. The driver, a female in Guild grey also left the vehicle, but not before checking her sidearm. "Preacher, you need to move on."
"Ah, the Lord's mastiff is here at last, come to silence those who would speak truth to the masses!"
"Nothing you say is true!" Sam cried out from behind the adults. "You're one of the Redeemed! You pretended to care about me just so you could use me!"
The preacher threw back his head and bemoaned, "Oh, but who hasn't heard this refrain before? A criminal who insists all his wrongdoing is everyone else's fault! What more do we expect from a penitatas? 'Penitatas' - what manner of word is that, I ask you? Not one born of Kyyreni tongue! What alien empire did our false-Lord sell us out to, Enforcer?"
"Enough! Last warning!" Kadan snarled. His low growl was like an idling engine, a heavy rumble filled with the promise of sudden energy when given proper incentive.
The preacher opened his jaws again, but only a gasp of shock came passed his lips. A heavy padlock sailed from the crowd and struck him above his right eye with force enough to stagger him and leave him crumpled on the curb. Before the crowd could react, Kadan drew his pistol and aimed at the gathering. "Who threw that?" he snapped. A few heads turned and a voice at the back cried out. Kadan caught the briefest glimpse of a Kyyreni, likely a Dawnsider, bolting away at phenomenal speed. He glanced at his Penny charges and hissed, "go inside, right now!"
A new arrival stepped over the prone preacher. Udum gave a disinterested sniff before flicking his eyes up at the anxious listeners. "Your entertainer appears to have a bump on the head, but it's nothing an ice pack and a lie down shall not fix. As much as I enjoy our ancient tradition of street-side oration, I humbly ask you to part and make way for those attending our lectures. Go now, off with you!" He then allowed the gathering to see the preacher helped up and escorted inside the school building, leaving them with only Kadan and his driver, and their guns, to focus on. They needed little more to persuade them to be elsewhere.
"What's his condition?" Kadan asked upon entering the school. The preacher had been propped up in the entrance hall with an ice-bag wrapped in a towel pressed against his temple. The towel, the fur of his face and his robe's shoulder was black with blood.
"He'll lose the eye if you don't get him to a hospital immediately," Udum answered with calm professionalism.
Kadan shrugged, "Sam, you said he was 'Redeemed'? You mean the Blighted Cult, don't you?"
"Yes, they call themselves Redeemed," she confirmed.
"Then he can lose the eye. Help me put him in the car, we'll dump him in the cells for a couple of hours and have a nice chat about his sermons."

By the time Udum returned to his class all twelve penitatas were in attendance, and every single one of them was eager to gather details of the siege of the school. Indeed, so preoccupied were they that even Hafn and Ros didn't notice the change in Sam's appearance straight away, and had to be prodded before they switched focus. "I will have your attention!" the Nightsider called out as he strode toward his desk, donning his sunglasses with one paw and reaching for a dreadful ruler with the other.
"No doubt rumour and speculation are flying, so let me put an end to that. What happened outside was nothing more than the incoherent shrieking of a madman, a dreg of our fair city who seeks to cover for his own inadequacies by lashing out at those more successful than himself. You will pay it no further mind," the final instruction was punctuated by a sharp crack as Udum struck his own palm with the ruler. Apparently satisfied with the disposition of his class, he turned his eye at last to Sam. "ah, the errant child returns at last. What marvelous gloves you have!"
Sam flinched under the teacher's shaded gaze. "T-they aren't gloves, sir. They're... augments."
Curious, Udum wandered up to her desk. "Show me?" he asked, taking one of her artificial paws in his own. He turned the paw over, humming to himself as he admired the craftsmanship. Then, with swiftness and precision, he smacked the girl's palm with his ruler. Sam yelped and pulled away as any other Penny would, nursing her wounded paw close to her breast. "Excellent, you can still feel then!"
If Sam could have she would surely have melted through the floor judging by how wretched she looked. Skal could only scowl at his teacher, whose expression remained near impossible to read behind his glasses. After a lengthy pause he said to Sam, "you think me cruel, yes? You think I delight in seeing you brought low? It is true that I felt great and terrible anger at your part in our Lord Governor's assassination, and equally true that I considered expelling you once I learned you not only still lived but were to return. However, I reflected upon my feelings and concluded that you would not be here now if you were truly guilty. I was told you were a mere victim of cruel circumstance, so I shall accept this explanation for now. I remind you, I remind all of you, that I cause you pain not for my own pleasure. I hurt because pain is a teacher, the oldest and best teacher we have."
Udum had returned to the head of the class by the end of his speech. With care, he lowered the ruler to his desk and let it sit in plain view. Hands free, he steepled his fingers and spoke as if thinking aloud, "In light of all that has transpired of late; our dear Samantha's ordeal, of the unpleasantness outside, and of course the harsher treatment you have all endured, I wish to remind you all that I am on your side. Resent me for my boring lectures if you like, curse me for the welts I give you when you slack or misbehave, but do not dare accuse me of conspiring against you. Now, let us review our recent studies for Sam's benefit. Lyy, what is the fundamental difference between a thrall and a slave?"
The Daysider girl glanced up at the teacher sheepishly. "I... I think it's... whether you're owned or not?"
"Stand up!" Udum replied sharply. He moved quickly around the ring of desks to stand behind Lyy, and with all eyes upon her he bent the girl over her desk, yanked her underwear down to the floor and delivered eight swift, crisp smacks to the fur of her backside with his paw. The hand-spanking alone made the display something of a novelty, although the sniffling, wet-eyed Daysider girl showed no sign of appreciating that fact. "Unacceptable! If you cannot recall something this basic after so short a time then I will assume you were not listening to begin with! Someone else answer, and do better! Hafn? Is your hand up or are you scratching your chin?"
The question seemed to cause crossed wires in the boy's brain as he did indeed briefly scratch his chin before stammering out, "I- ah- a slave belongs to a master, but thralls belong to... to places?"
Udum tilted his head down so he could peer at the boy eye to eye over his sunglasses. "Explain," he said in a low voice that promised more spankings were on the cards if the explanation disappointed him.
Hafn gulped loudly and clenched his eyes shut as he began to recite, "the servile class is made of 'slaves', who serve their master, and 'thralls', who serve the land on which they live. A lord who takes a new, umm, a posting can take his slaves, but the thralls remain to await his replacement, save those... save those whose hearts and minds his words compel to follow." he opened his eyes and added appended the recitation with an awkward appendix, "At least according to King Tsarkr of Niirgol... I think? From his book, Rule And Governance." 
Udum's grin grew even wider, "Hafn, you are fast becoming the star pupil of this class! Yes indeed, the difference between the commoners is who may choose the manner in which they serve our community! But be under no illusion that we are all owned, every one of us! We are owned first by our parents, then by our teachers, then our employers. Only after a life of hard, honest toil are we gifted retirement: true freedom in our twilight years as reward for our loyal service. Now I suspect many of you resent this idea, both in the indentured lives you now live and in the 'free' lives you led before. After all, how can you truly be free if you have to serve someone, yes? This unhappiness, this resentment, it is born of your lack of discipline! Happiness in life does not come from 'freedom', but from purpose. I am a happy man because I was told by the Lady Tavik herself to educate you, and I sleep soundly each night knowing that I gave my all to that task. Oh, there are a thousand other ways I could spend these hours, many of which are more immediately pleasurable, but such fleeting temptations fade quickly and I would ultimately find myself tossing and turning in my bed, guts wrenching at the fear that I was wasting my life. Purpose! Purpose brings happiness! Servitude brings purpose!"
The lecture continued as they often did, with Udum reciting from old tomes and quizzing his rejuvenated charges unannounced before instructing them to read specific passages and prepare short essays on the lessons held therein. As ever, there was a palpable sense of relief when the class was finally allowed to break for lunch. The corner of the room awaited. Sam and Skal settled down side by side with Hafn and Ros sat opposite. As ever, the two boys from the Sinking Light had a far more exciting lunch prepared than the pair in Kadan's care; spiced fish strips and game meat in a sauce that grabbed them by the nostrils and caused uncontrollable salivating. "Are we really supposed to believe all that stuff about 'happiness in servitude' he talks about?" Hafn asked as he settled, flicking a quick tilt of the head towards Udum's desk while massaging a wrist plagued with writer's cramp.
"Probably. It's not like we have a choice, is it?" Skal answered.
"He does have a point though," Ros added, pausing to pick something out of his teeth. One of them was loose again. "I feel like things have been better since I started trying to do more than what mum asked for. She listens to my ideas. I think I could see myself running the Sinking Light one day, or somewhere like it."
"Or you're happier because she decided to be your mother instead of your owner," Skal replied. Ros accepted the point with a nod and a 'maybe'. "To be honest, I don't really know what I want to be. I don't think I've ever wanted to be anything except left alone. But when I was free to make my own choices I didn't exactly make good ones, and I think mum would have been proud of me if I'd have joined the Enforcers, or any Guild for that matter. I don't know, I just don't like the idea that I can't decide my own future. Thing is, if I had my freedom... I'd have never met any of you."
Hafn made a retching sound as Sam leaned over to hug Skal tightly. "Well I know exactly where I want to be - in charge! I want to be living in those fancy halls, or even the Palace! Nothing less than nobility will do for me!"
"How do you plan to get there?" Sam asked.
The Kyyreni boy shrugged, "I don't really know. I guess I just have to get lucky."
After their lunches were gone and the Pennys had been allowed to stretch their legs a little and attend to nature's call, the class resumed. However, Udum had barely found time to settle into his pacing when a commotion outside made him pause. The Pennys saw the tension in their Nightsider teacher, whose paws curled and rose up to waist height as though he planned to leap and claw at whomsoever dared to enter the classroom. This aggression vanished instantly when the door finally opened to reveal a heavy-set man in the colours of House Tavik, who held the door open for a much younger, slighter Kyyreni female. "Why... Lady Tavik?"
The noblewoman smiled as she glided into the classroom. Her escort closed the door behind her, remaining outside. "It is good to see you again, Udum. Forgive me for dropping in unannounced, but I had been meaning to check in on your progress and I just happened to have a window of opportunity."
Udum carefully removed and folded up his shades. "Who am I to begrudge you to seize the moment? Class, pray attend our most honoured guest!"
Lady Ylari of House Tavik raised her paws in protest, "No, please! I didn't mean to disrupt your lectures! If it's alright, I would like to simply observe and see for myself what a typical lesson entails."
The teacher bowed respectfully, "As you wish, Lady Tavik."
The young woman took a moment to scan the room, smiling softly at how the penitatas stared at her until she met their gaze, then hastily looked down or away as if they feared some terrible sanction. There were two who were far less shy than the others, and she let her smile grow a little wider at the sight of them. "You are Corrector-Captain Kadan's charge, are you not?" she asked Skal as if she didn't recognise his face.
"Yes m'lady," Skal answered with a slight nod, keeping his gaze lowered carefully. The memories of the Revelry crept back to him and made his stomach twist with embarrassment. Sam was likely recalling the same meeting, judging by the shade she had turned.
"Then send him my regards when next you see him." It seemed such an innocent statement, but in light of his recollections he had to wonder if there was some hidden meaning.
The noble retired to the corner of the room and stood with her paws folded in front of her, smiling faintly as Udum took up his teaching role once more. It seemed to the class that the Nightsider had far more fire and vigour to him than before as began to orate again. "We have reviewed materials pertaining to the nature of duty and obedience, and the curse that is freedom. Yes, we are divinely imbued with free will, uniquely so in fact, but that is not to say that pursuit of one's base urges is in any way virtuous or conductive to a happy life. Just as your status as penitatas presupposes you lack the character required to judge right and wrong, so too does it presume you lack the capacity to judge when and how freedom is to be employed. I think there is poetic justice in reverting you back to childhood, for there is a perverse symmetry between the child and the criminal; I ask, what is crime but an infantile lashing out at the parental figure of society? Is there not an unmistakable symmetry between the child who is smacked and marched to bed, and the thug who is subdued and dragged into a cage? A child, properly raised, looks upon the Watchman as he looks upon his father; with deep respect, and deeper fear! Who is laughing?"
Udum's muzzle snapped round, teeth glinting in the classroom's lights as his narrowed eyes hunted for a Penny to thrash. Yet the teacher was soon drawn to the blushing young noblewoman in the corner. "Pardon me, Udum! It is just that I didn't realise until now just how much I missed your lectures, and longed to hear them again. That must sound so strange, given the amount of effort I put into evading them!"
The Nightsider went from wrathful to doting in the space of a heartbeat. "My dear Lady, I take it as the highest compliment! You were but a child, and like all children you thought only of fleeting pleasures. That you regret such impulses now and take delight in the process of education proves to me you have become the fine young woman I knew you would."
Ylari blushed at the male's words. "Perhaps I would enjoy helping you in your lectures after all."
"We are scarcely deserving of such a privilege," Udum answered, impossibly deferent. "Please, offer to these reprobates your insight on the nature of duty."
"I think, perhaps, I would consider 'freedom'." Lady Tavik replied as she stepped forward to a more central position. "It would seem to me that I have known only one freedom my entire life; freedom of the heart. Where I live, what I wear, when and what I study; all this was decided for me. Even the man I married was a choice made on my behalf, a union of political need with no regard to our respective desires. But I alone have decided who to name as friend, or who to shun with hatred. My heart, my love, is the one thing I can give freely. So long as I did my duty, so long as I served House and nation and Gods as was required, no living soul questioned who I judged worthy of my deepest affections. This alone is the only freedom we can every truly have. I think it is a freedom even you must possess, for it is this freedom itself that I think defines us as being bearers of a soul."
As the Lady finished and glanced toward Udum, she found the Nightsider deep in thought. The fingers of his right paw gently enclosed his muzzle, his eyes closed to the narrowest of slits. His eyes opened slowly, and a smile formed behind his paw as he focused on the noble Dawnsider. "A touching sentiment, undeniable in its elegant simplicity. I suspect there are those within this classroom whose lives would be made better by letting go of unproductive resentments and, as you say, opening their hearts to friendship. Certainly, it seems that some of them have benefited greatly by your masters opening their hearts to them and embracing them as adoptive children, not merely slaves."
The comment seemed to catch Ylari by surprise. "Is that so? Has that happened often?" She glanced about the classroom to see if any volunteered the information of their own volition, but they all wore the same expressions of anxious attentiveness.
Udum looked towards his own charge. "That is the custom on Human worlds, but here it appears we are still deciding if we should emulate the practice. For my part, I have seen little desire from young Alif to regard me as a father, but in many ways the role of father and mentor are similar."
"It would seem to me to be a dysfunctional relationship, given how harshly you must discipline the boy," the Lady Tavik commented.
"That poses a challenge for them all, Lady Tavik. The rod is not an easy thing to love."
The classroom door opened a fraction, just enough that a serious looking Kyyreni could peer through and give the young noble a meaningful look. "It seems I must go," Ylari announced. "Udum, I thank you for indulging me. It was an informative visit, and I wish you and your class well."
Udum carefully took her left paw into his own and placed a subtle kiss upon her knuckles. "I am, and shall always be, your obedient servant. But, if I may presume to ask... are you well, my Lady?"
"If I am not, I know where to find you. Thank you, and good day," she carefully extracted her paw and departed with grace and poise, leaving Udum to quietly stew in his own, private thoughts for a time.
The rest of the school day was subdued, with a lingering sense that Udum's mind was now engaged in other matters. Far from being a relief, this uncharacteristic lack of energy and disinterest made the penitatas all the more unsettled, to the point where it was a mercy to be free at the end of the day. They emerged to find two guards outside: an adult Enforcer, a Daysider; and a local Nightsider who wore a luminescent green vest with the words "District Warden" printed on the front and back. Both were armed with steel batons, with the former openly carrying a ballistic weapon at his hip. From across the street, Skal heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey! Skal! Sam!"
Kas hurried over to them with a serious look on his muzzle. "Hell of a thing, eh? Kadan seemed to think there'd be blood on the streets!"
"It all happened pretty quick," Skal agreed. He glanced towards Hafn and Ros, who loitered in the cold, dark street close by. Their mother was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey, you two!" Kas called to them. "We're giving you a lift home! Car's right here!"
"How come Ivaka didn't pick us up?" Hafn asked as he followed the Medicalos to the waiting vehicle.
Kas paused for a moment before answering, "Kadan wanted to let these two -" he jerked his head towards Sam and Skal "- hang out with you for a while after school. Figured we'd save her the trip, seeing as we're all going the same way."
Neither Hafn or Ros got a good look at Kas' face as he spoke, but Skal did. The boy's doubts were quite literally radiating from his muzzle. "Anyway, enough chit-chat! Hop in the car before we all freeze!"

Eskal returned to the Sinking Light via the backdoor, and his appearance caused the kitchen staff to pause in their work. When Ivaka saw his bruised face and bloodied fur she rushed over with a gasp of alarm, gripped him by the elbow and steered him into the store room. "Gods! what happened to you?"
The noble born Kyyreni forced a confident smile. "Haakyr wanted to test some of his younger boys, and they didn't play fair. I still won."
"Why do you insist on going to see him?" the Nightsider snapped as Eskal took advantage of the sink to try and make himself presentable.
"Better I go there than he comes here," Eskal grumbled between splashes. "He's up to something, Ivaka. He's not planning to leave like the other mercenaries. If anything, he's digging in. Hell, even to call him 'mercenary' doesn't do him justice; he's driven by madness, not greed. Whatever he's fixated on it will only end one way; blood and ruin."
A knock on the back door startled Ivaka and made Eskal snap into a fighting stance. With her noble bouncer tense and ready, the Nightsider opened the door to reveal a truly unexpected visitor. A Dawnsider woman who carried herself with all the grace and poise of nobility, but with the scars of the worst gang-scum. Her muzzle was mauled into a permanent, mocking smirk, a forced smile that perfectly suited the cruel glint of her eyes. a daemon in mortal flesh; Lady Sin. "Ivaka, isn't it? I was going to ask if you were alright, but looking at your companion I seem to be too late for that."
"Did you want something?" Ivaka asked coldly.
The female Dawnsider shrugged, "I just thought I'd be neighbourly. After that terrible business, and what happened this morning outside the Penny school, it seems the Daysiders, the 'Varangians' have it out for you. Haakyr's men gave you those lumps, didn't they?"
"Eskal can take of himself," the Nightsider said with her arms folded across her chest. Her left foot tapped an impatient beat. "If you just wanted to be friendly, your words are gratefully accepted. I am rather busy."
"So are the Daysiders," Lady Sin countered. "Listen."
Ivaka and Eskal did listen. Over the general background noise of Vices, they picked out a subtle disruption. "Sirens," Eskal said.
"Four young men found in the maintenance tunnels, or so I hear. Tortured. Skinned. I think we can guess at the culprits. These animals are getting bored, and with boredom comes violence. They've already marked you as a target. I know, you don't like me and you don't believe I'm doing this out of concern for you, so let me offer an alternative explanation; when Haakyr's done raping and killing everyone in the Sinking Light, he's going to get bored again and look for new prey. If that happens, he might come after me, and if he does nobody will come to my aid. Better for me that he's stopped at your door. Better for both of us, in fact."
"So, you propose... what?" Ivaka asked, doing her best to hide the fact that Lady Sin's words had shaken her. The woman's tone made it sound as if she were savouring the mental image of Haakyr slaking his feral lusts within her walls.
"The Enforcers can't help us, so we need local muscle. We need a militia. Militias cost money of course, but you have friends in all the right places, not to mention the respect of a great many fellow tradespeople. If you can rally Vices, and even some of the people in the districts beyond, we can pool enough funds to acquire and maintain fighting men to hold the monsters at bay. Perhaps, if we are truly fortunate, we can even drive the bastards from the City altogether."
"I... I will think on it. Now please?" Lady Sin required no further prompting to depart, and when the back door was finally shut Ivaka slumped against it with relief. "Gods! She can't be serious, surely? This has to be some sort of trick!"
Eskal shrugged. "Can't say I know her well enough to judge, but there's an old saying I picked up on Terra: 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'."
"So you think we should work with her to get Haakyr under control?"
The noble-born Dawnsider considered this. "I think," he said at last, "that it is high time I taught you how to defend yourself. I can probably find some weapons, though I'm not sure on their legality."
"I don't like where this is going," Ivaka replied with a tone intended to shut down the male's musings. "I've worked too hard to make this place reputable without you smuggling arms!"
Eskal accepted the chastisement. "Then I suppose we have no choice but to follow Lady Sin's plan. How do we convince people to rally behind forming militias?"
Ivaka rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she crossed into the main room of the tavern. "I might be able to get us into the Guildmoot. The Lifters have always been good to us, so I'm sure they'd obliged."
"Not me. I'm noble born, remember? It might send the wrong impression."
The comment made the Nightsider hesitate. "I... well, fair enough. I guess you can look after the place while I'm there. And now, actually - I'm going to need a new outfit!"

The day had finally come, unwelcome in its reality. Thoroughly scrubbed and groomed at the public baths the evening prior, Skal and Sam were roused and 'dressed' for the occasion. Each had a set of black, fingerless gloves with the runic symbol for 'penitatas' sewn into them, and matching toeless socks, both of which threaded into black and silver wrist and ankle cuffs. A matching cuff was fixed to the base of the tail. The largest item were the gorgets of blue-steel with an electrum Guild crest that had been prepared for each of them, held around their necks with a chain of alternating gold and silver plated links. Last of all, and least welcomed, were the collars. They were fashioned of black leather and precious metals, each sporting yellow topaz studs. The metalwork of its bindings was complex and intricate, designed to be both visually pleasing and subtly conceal the precise mechanism that held the collar together. As Skal's was slipped around his neck he discovered that the up-fluted ornamentation on the front rested firmly against the jaw. When he tried to look down the collar dug into his skin in a manner that he felt sure was by design.
Once the penitatas were dressed Kadan changed into his own formal outfit. He wore a bright yellow shirt with elbow length sleeves and matching knee-length pants, over which he sported a sleeveless black tunic and short kilt. These were black, but covered in silver thread that wove complex spiral patterns across the whole outfit. His mane had been worked into old-fashioned braids as was the custom for the ceremonial event, each ending in a small metal anchor that held a Guild crest. Torcs of gold and black adorned his arms, while on his fingers he sported four rings; two sported yet more Enforcers Guild crests, the others a newly-minded 'Correctors' icon. Finally, over his left shoulder and down his back he wore a Guild-cloak, a fashion item that existed solely for the sake of the moot as far as anyone knew. Crimson cords held the shimmering blue-black silk in place upon his left shoulder, while more subtle supporting framework kept it spread neatly across his back. A thin sheet of fabric hung down his left front, proclaiming his accomplishments and those of the Office of Correctors in stylised runic script.
"Now you two you listen up," he growled at them, stiff and uncomfortable in is unfamiliar clothes, "you are representing the Guild today. A lot of time and coin has gone into this, and a lot of status is on the line. You will not put a single toe wrong, got that?"
The pair would have nodded if their collars let them. Satisfied by their wide-eyed expressions, Kadan wrapped them both in dressing gowns so they would at least have some modesty on the trip over.
Prepared, the trio headed out. Haal was waiting for them in the main lobby. He gave a jealous glance to them as they passed and when Kadan stopped in front of him he said in a sulking tone, "I was not invited."
Kadan sighed. "But your replacement was. I get it, Haal. Truth be told, I'd have happily sent you in my place. But the Office is in good hands with you here, right?"
"Doesn't Torn have seniority?"
"Consider this a trial run. Tell him he's to second for you today, but only today and only until we get back. Don't go thinking it's an excuse to reorganise the whole damn place either! Just... keep everything ticking over as it should."
"Yes, Corrector-Captain," the boy said with a sharp salute, cheered immensely by the concession.
The party left in a luxury vehicle rather than the typical rugged, militaristic transports the Enforcers favoured - a long hovercar. The seats were heavily cushioned, the floor carpeted, and access was only possible from the left side of the vehicle. The right side had a drinks cooler, a refrigerator unit full of sweetened meats, and a large screen currently showing official coverage of the Guildmoot. Waiting inside was the new Watch-Captain and the Enforcer-General. Both wore an outfit that matched Kadans save the Watch-Captain wore bold crimson for the under-colour, while the Enforcer-General wore pure black, but with greater use of gold trim throughout. "Best not touch the drinks. Last time we had a Guildmoot I was bursting for a piss through the whole opening ceremony," the general growled.
As the car lifted up and began weaving over the ground traffic, the Enforcer-General addressed the Rejuves directly. "No doubt Kadan's told you to behave, but there's rules about how to behave as well. First, never look anyone in the eye who isn't a slave - they'll be dressed like you. If you're talking to someone turn your eyes downward. Second, if you are introduced to any member of the Power Guild you bow. If it's their Guildmaster, you bow and stay bowed until he tells you to rise."
"It'll be hard to bow with this on," Sam sighed, fidgeting with her collar.
"Stop that!" the brutish Dawnsider barked in a tone Skal had heard from Kadan too many times. "You'd best figure out how, because this damn show is all about 'prestige', and we've not been able to present slaves before. The Guildmaster and our sponsors both went overkill on you two. Speaking of, roll up those sleeves, girl."
Sam obeyed. The Enforcer-General took hold of one of her artificial limbs and gave a long whistle. "Blood and iron! Almost looks like real flesh! Can you feel with these?"
"Yes!" Sam squeaked as the officer poked her palm.
The car sighed into a gap between two similar vehicles on top of a parking building. Temporary barriers and alarm lights were erected all around the open roof, with scrolling text declaring that the structure was restricted to Guildmoot delegations only. Various groups were arriving and proceeding down to street level as the Enforcers Guild party disembarked. The Watch-Captain took a moment to offer a grateful word to the driver. Close by were other members of the Guild; the Border-Marshal, Madame Seneschal and Lady Administratrix, marked by blue, green and grey respectively, as well as half a dozen regular Enforcers in standard, albeit highly polished street uniform. "Alright, leave those gowns here," Kadan told his Rejuve charges. Neither were happy about the order, nor with the lingering stares they received as their seniors examined their, for want of a better word, 'clothes'. With no further discussion the group headed to street level, and their armed guards led them briskly to the large crowd outside the Guildmoot.
The Guildmoot was to take place in a public hall. Outside the main doors, ramrod straight with their backs to the wood, stood the Guildmasters of the Enforcers, Bankers and Lifters. At the head of the assembled crowd were other Guild members of varying ranks and their guests, but most prominent was a Houseguard from House Vaskal. The broad-shouldered, bull-necked Dawnsider stood watching the trio, waiting for their signal to begin. The Enforcer's Guildmaster gave the subtlest of nods and the Houseguard strode forward. He halted at the base of the steps leading to the entrance, pausing to settle his paw upon the blade of his two-handed sword, and began to ascend with formal slowness. Each step was mirrored by the trio before him, so that as the Houseguard reached the top step he was confronted by the three.
In a voice loud enough to carry across the crowd, the Guildmaster of the Enforcers announced, "Houseguard of the First House, avatar of the Lord Governor's authority, we assembled here humbly request the privilege of a moot!"
The three took to their knees and bowed low before the noble warrior, who drew his sword and held its razor edge above their bent necks. "An oath is demanded! Will you, and all who attend swear the oath of the moot, that no deed, nor word, nor thought of treachery shall be shared between you?"
The three bowed Guildmasters answered in chorus, "Upon our lives, upon our souls, we swear the oath of the moot!"
"Then the privilege is granted!" the Houseguard announced. With his duty done, he sheathed his sword and departed. Only after he had descended the steps did the trio rise, turn and march together to the doorway.
The Banker hammered the door three times, "Consent is given! Open the doors!"
"Says who?" came the reply from within.
"Says the Guildmaster of the Lord Governor's Enforcers!"
"Says the Guildmaster of the Lifters and Transporters of Goods!"
"Says the Guildmaster of Bankers, Borrowers and Lenders of Coin!"
The doors were flung open. The Guildmasters stepped back to make room for a fourth of their number; the leader of the Gamblers, the self-titled 'King of Chance'. The scarred and smiling Guildmaster strode forward, gave his tail a theatrical flick and flung his arms wide to the gathered audience. "Guildmoot!" he roared, and the crowd roared the word back in a surge of excitement. Many - most in fact - would play no further part in the gathering, but it was enough to be present for the ceremony, to witness it and lend their voice to the final proclamation. It made them part of a truly special thing; a gathering of Thralls, where the eyes and ears of their betters could not pry, and where the will of the same meant nothing. For a brief, gleeful moment, the lowest born Kyyreni on Taviksaad could snub their noses at those at the top without fear of consequence, and it felt good to do so.
The one blessing of the ceremony had been that it kept everyone's attention on the building, but with the doors open the attendees began to file in. Scarcely anyone had decided to leave as Kadan urged him forward. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Sam was just as miserable, if not more so. Normally shy about her body due to her dysphoric colouration, her exposure made it obvious to all that she was female. Judging by how the ornate collar dug into her chin, the Penny girl desperately wanted to lower her head in shame. Skal was left with the distinct feeling their attire was designed to make them feel exposed and vulnerable; the soft calf-skin on his paws and the snugness of his wrist and ankle cuffs seemed to heighten the awareness that boyhood was jiggling between his legs for all to see. The faintest of tinglings itched through him and he snapped his eyes forward, locking onto the arched doorway ahead and trying desperately to memorise every last detail of it to keep his mind too occupied to dwell on anything else.
It was almost a relief to be inside the main hall. It was a vast space, but filling quickly. A long table of assorted food and drink occupied one wall, with ornate benches along the other for guests to rest upon. The far wall bore a stage, much larger than most Skal had seen, and at the rear of it a band sat playing jolly, fluting tunes. Skal and Sam were steered directly to the Enforcers Guildmaster, who unlike all of her subordinates wore a bespoke maroon dress more akin to that of a noble lady's attire. Privilege of power, Skal supposed. Her muzzle lit up with delight and ears visibly twitched as the group approached. "Marvelous! Come, before you get too comfortable, I want a formal photograph. Don't you roll your eyes at me!" the final comment was a wifely snap at the Enforcer-General, whose eye roll had not only been telegraphed, but audible.
Altogether, the nine members of the Guild party headed to a stairwell and descended. The sub-level was discernably cooler than the main hall, with much less effort made to make it look presentable. Through a set of double doors were two Nightsiders handling a tripod mounted camera, with a silk backing cloth against one wall and stacked Guild crests against the other. Photography was a concept Skal was largely unfamiliar with; the technology had been bypassed by Kyyreni, who discovered digital image capturing long before anyone had dabbled with celluloid. The result was a relatively primitive practice, but one that had near instantly found a place as an expensive indulgence - to have a photograph taken was to declare yourself someone of importance. The process involved a great deal of shuffling and fussing as the two photographers carefully arranged their subjects, instructing them on how to correctly posture themselves so as to express the worthy stations they held. Sam and Skal were told to kneel before the Guildmaster in a submissive, and revealing posture. Their paws were laid across their thighs so the penitatas markings were clearly visible. Beside him, Sam's teeth chattered as she held back a whimper, loathing with all her being the idea that her degradation was being immortalised for all time.
"Thank you all," the Guildmaster said to her people. "Let's return upstairs. I want you to enjoy yourselves today, but I also expect you to comport yourself in a manner becoming of the Guild. Make no promises, offer no favours, accept no indulgences of station. Understood?"
The adults confirmed, but the penitatas were left lost as to what an 'indulgence of station' was, at least until the Lady Administratrix gave a sigh and whispered to the Lady Seneschal, "Here I was hoping to indulge in that strapping young male the Doctors are parading around!"
Returning upstairs, the hall had begun to fill with the various Guilds and their worthy guests. Some were following the lead of the Enforcers and heading downstairs for photographs, but most seemed content to cluster in the central floor and mingle. What caught Skal's eye immediately were the sheer number of slaves. Aside from minor differences of colours used, Guild crests and other minor aspects, every slave wore the same outfit as Skal and Sam. The sole exception were the slaves whose biology made such an outfit impossible - the Bankers, for example, were accompanied by a Drakonian slave. Paradoxically, the collar, gloves and other trappings given to the towering, raptor-like reptile were more than she would typically have worn, as Drakonians rarely saw a need to clothe themselves. The other species were less comfortable. The ones Skal recognised were the Chaldakri, with their distinctive body-shell; the cat-like Jalaxians; the Aspatrians, whose slight build and predominantly orange fur made them look like malformed Kyyreni Daysiders; and the Humans. Skal felt some sympathy for the latter as their furless bodies looked all the more exposed, not to mention leaving them cold. The Penny boy estimated that a third of the attendees were slaves, and perhaps a quarter of those were alien. A similar number, with some overlap, were Rejuves.
Skal felt a paw gently press between his shoulder blades. He glanced up to see the Guildmaster smiling down at him. "Go and be seen. There's at least one other penitatas over by the refreshments." Kadan confirmed his permission to mingle with a wordless nod.
Taking Sam by the hand, the pair threaded themselves towards the food and drink. As promised, there were others waiting. In particular, he recognised the face of a Penny from the Lifter guild. The Dawnsider turned to Skal and gave a shy wave. "Hey! Skal, right? It's Tosjig."
"I remember," Skal said with a forced smile, though it wasn't the newfound company that was causing him discomfort. "I'm glad we're not the only ones wearing this," he added with a subtle nod towards Sam.
Tosjig glanced at the girl and blushed, turning away again sharply. "Misery loves company, right?"
Before the trio had time to properly settle they were joined by a small gathering of adults, all Kyyreni, mostly Dawnsiders. Their clothes and insignia marked them as members of the Lifters, Constructors and Chemists. The group took an immediate interest in Sam, much to her dismay. "Well, you're quite the display," the Chemist said as if he were critiquing a painting or statue. "a dimophoriac with an impressive set of augmentations. The Enforcers are certainly making a statement."
"I think you hurt the girl's feelings," the Lifter said sternly as Sam clenched her eyes shut tight in shame. The sight of her on the brink of tears made Skal's guts writhe with impotent fury.
The Chemist gave Sam an unwelcome pat on the head. "Aww, don't get yourself worked up. Here, let me get you a drink. You'll feel better." The drink turned out to be a mix of sparkling water, springtime fruits and a hefty slug of alcohol, and one appeared for each of the Rejuves. Sam gulped it down so fast it prompted the gift-giver to forcefully lower the glass. "Easy there! Pace yourself or you'll be sick!"
"S-sorry!" the girl whimpered, shivering for reasons that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.
As the Chemist rose the third member of their group whispered something in his ear that made his amicable grin vanish sharply. More whispering followed, and Skal guessed what it was they'd spotted. He took Sam by the elbow and tried to steer her away, only for the Chemist to cry "Wait a moment!"
Both rejuves flinched and turned unwillingly back to the group. Sam and Skal alike expected an inquisition, probing questions as to her role in the death of the former Lord Governor, perhaps even vigilante justice. Instead, the three parted to usher another penitatas forward. A Kyyreni girl of five years old or so, with common brown fur along her back and flanks that transitioned to ashen grey at her paws, tail-tip, muzzle and stomach, with a pale white diamond around her crotch. "He's the one, right?" the Chemist prompted her.
A surge of memory came to Skal, almost physical in its intensity. "I remember you! Your master tried to kill you!"
The girl grimaced at the unwelcome memory, then nodded as best as her collar would allow. "That's right. After you rescued me I was sold to my Guild. They were hard on me at first, knowing what I'd done. They still are I guess, but even their worst was nothing compared to what he put me through. I... I wanted to thank you for saving me."
As Skal stood in quiet surprise, the Lifter filled the pause. "Little Tosjig here is always being pestered by rejuves who want 'Skal the Reborn' to put in a good word for them, aren't you? Most of it's petty stuff, but if we hear of something that might need looking at we pass it on to your men. You're a regular hero to the criminal classes!"
Skal blushed at the comments, much to the amusement of the Lifter. That amusement was short lived as he broke into a coughing fit. Almost immediately, a Lifter in his early teens stepped forward to offer a handkerchief to his mongrel companion. It came away with flecks of pink in the bile. "I don't think we've been introduced, have we? I'm Korat, something of a mediator within the Guild. I believe you and Tosjig are friends, yes?"
"We know each other through Hafn and Ros," Tosjig answered with a smile. Korat accepted the answer.
"May I ask a question, sir?" Skal probed, continuing when the half-breed Guilder gave a nod, "How did Tosjig wind up learning to fly? Seems an odd thing for a Penny to be taught."
Korat smirked at the question. "Is it any stranger than making a Penny an Enforcer? But fair question, I suppose. I can't speak for my colleagues, but us Lifters started talking amongst ourselves about what it was being a Penny meant. It's not just punishment, certainly not when we're not the ones who were wronged." He paused to clear his throat loudly, prompting his minder to fetch him a drink. "The question of reform came up, and I figured reform needs trust. What better way to show that trust than treating young Tos as one of us? Sure, he gets things a little harder since the Lord Governor's edict, but I'd hope he thinks us fair on him."
"We have a similar approach," the Chemist agreed. "Once it started to sink in that we're all basically immortal now, well, it prompted a shift in thinking. I guess you could call it a sense of civic responsibility to take in our share and make good people out of them."
"So you are on our side?" Sam asked shyly, attempting draw attention while not being looked at directly.
"We're on the side of those who want to do better by the City," the Chemist said.
"And better themselves," Korat added. "Not to say we've not had some pushback. A lot of people want to join our ranks, and we're mindful that taking in too many penitatas makes law abiding types feel resentful."
The Guildmaster of the Enforcers ghosted into the conversation so expertly that Korat jumped when she spoke to him. "You should take these thoughts to the stage, after our self-crowned king has had his say, of course. Skal? Sam? Come with me now please." With no further explanation, the Kyyreni female steered the two penitatas towards the gathered Enforcers, placing them at the front of the group. All faced the stage with an air of mild disinterest, talking quietly about nothing in particular. The Guildmoot proper was about to begin.

The music ceased abruptly. Beginning from those nearest the stage, a wave of silence billowed outwards, stifling conversation and drawing all eyes to the stage as a burgundy curtain lowered. The King of Chance stepped forward, dressed in a red and gold tiger-stripe outfit with a small nations worth of gold festooned about his person. He wore a conman's grin on his squashed, bullish muzzle. Skal couldn't help but think of him as a gang-lord; it defied belief that such a man could be law abiding. The leader of the Gamblers Guild stood quiet for a short while, watching from the corner of his eye as broadcast cameras and other record-makers made their last-minute adjustments. Once satisfied all was ready, he raised a paw to signal the last, defiant conversations should end. "Fellow Guildmasters, guilded thralls, enslaved servants, honoured guests... and yes, even our dear criminals-" he briefly met Skal's eye, causing the boy to flinch away. A light ripple of laughter filled the hall. "-welcome to you all and thank you for attending!"
The King basked in the cheers and stamping of feet a little longer than was necessary. "I called this Guildmoot to speak to you all of a matter of great importance. It is a matter that has long been in contention, and that some here still hold strong feelings towards. Others, I suspect, are sick to death of the subject. I speak of Rejuvenation, and the crisis it represents!" This pronouncement turned the mood of the gathering. The reaction was more tepid, with some openly jeering. One voice at the back of the room, emboldened by alcohol, roared a slanderous insult that saw him swiftly silenced by his peers for the sake of their Guild's honour. The Dawnsider on the stage let the gathering have their say, waiting it out with patience.
"I understand your feelings, I truly do! Especially you at the back! Indulge me a little more, dear friends? Please, indulge me. I am not here to decry rejuvenation as a mortal sin, nor to suggest we should pretend it is possible to forget this technology now exists. No, my concerns are pragmatic, material ones; I speak not of the spiritual cost, but the financial cost!"
"Well there's a surprise!" the Enforcer's Guildmaster cried out. It seemed like rudeness to Skal, but the female's words received another tentative ripple of laughter from those nearby, and a beaming grin from the King of Cards. Her well-judged heckle helped diffuse the spike in tension, buying the host time to make his case.
He did not waste it. "I have spoken to our medical peers and men of the faith. Assisted suicides during the Birthing were only a third of what was anticipated. A third! Unsurprisingly, there was a matching spike in rejuvenation treatments. Many who would have died live again, reborn young and strong, and while I am joyful that they have received this new lease on life I cannot ignore the looming danger this represents. Debt!" he added sharply, not giving the assembly time to insert their own biases. "Our friends the Bankers have confirmed what I already knew; many of these rejuvenations are paid for with borrowed coin. How many I cannot yet say, but my Guild alone has funded one in five of all rejuvenation procedures performed on Taviksaad to date, and a quarter from the last month! You all know your own accounts. Would anyone care to share?"
The Bankers obliged. "My Guild has matched the contributions of the Gambling Guild, and I will vouch that we have had a role in financing close to half of all rejuvenations, primarily those of 'Medicalos' designation."
"Since the abolition of the Royal Slaver Company's operations on Taviksaad, we have directly funded all penitatas rejuvenations," the Lady Administratrix declared over Sam's head. "In our case, a substantial amount of the cost is successfully reimbursed by selling the penitatas in question into slavery to a registered owner. However, we are to date operating on a marginal deficit."
"A deficit that must be covered with taxation," the King of Cards presumed, to the disapproval of all. "You all see my concerns now? We face a looming crisis of financial collapse! Debts are massing. They are manageable for now, but they mount year on year. The dissenters and detractors are fading away, quite literally dying off. In ten, twenty, thirty years who will remain that has not embraced rejuvenation? The Birthing shall not be a time of welcoming new life and bidding farewell to the old, but a changing of flesh; in so doing, we shall see yet another wave of lending, an ever growing number of people burdened with a debt they must repay before the service is needed again, lest they fall into an inescapable spiral. On top of that are the births - new souls who will one day add to the cycle!"
"The City is already overcrowded," he continued without interruption, for he had their attention now. "The dome is packed beyond capacity! We have dug out sub-levels, built districts on top of districts, expanded up and out, yet there is never enough room!"
"The Nobles have approved major external developments!" a representative of the Construction Guild called out. "Two new townships within commuting distance of the City, with landed Houses to oversee them! The first phase alone will hold twenty-thousand apiece, with phase two already on our drawing boards. We break ground before High Year!"
The proclamation met with some support, especially from those Guilds who had ties to the construction industry. The Gambler shut them down hard. "Nobody wants to live in townships! They want to live in the City!"
"It's true, and it's choking us!" another Kyyreni added in support. He was a mongrel - a Night/Day hybrid. His eyes gazed blindly at the King of Chance. "House Tavik has suspended our expansion plans for Blister, refusing to let us break ground on our new chemical plants until he has heard the proposals from the Construction Guild for a new housing block!"
Angered voices rose to greet the mongrel, loudest being the master of the accused Guild. "You tread dangerously close to breaking your Oath, cur!"
"Enough of that!" the King of Chance barked loudly. The Kyyreni's façade slipped for an instant, appearing ready to hurl himself upon the crowd and settle the argument with teeth and claws. The feral flicker was gone as quickly as it came. "It is not our place to question, but our privilege to advise! I give you then, if you would consider them, the twinned crises we should all debate. One: the financial hardship of funding the rejuvenation system. Two: the population boom this technology has brought upon us. I have my thoughts, of course, but true to my nature I shall keep my cards close to the chest for now." He smiled at his pun, but few were in the mood for humour now.
"Before we debate this matter, I'd like to open the stage to other business. I believe we have a guest who'd like to raise a matter of great importance?" the King gave way, and to Skal's surprise it was Ivaka who took the stage, flanked by Korat. She began to speak, nervously, with many a glance towards the Enforcers. She spoke of the unrest in the City, and the need for more than the Guild to protect the citizenry. She had barely begun when the King of Chance sidled over to the Enforcers and gave Kadan a subtle, but forceful tap on the elbow. "You and I should talk."
There was a firmness to his voice that couldn't be ignored. With but a brief glance to his Guildmaster for confirmation, Kadan followed the gambler from the hall and into a side corridor. Waiting for him was an unlikely guest; the leader of the Old Labourers, hunched over on a bench and wheezing into a breathing mask. "What's he doing here?" Kadan growled at the sight of him.
"He's here as a guest. Humour me, please?" the King of Cards insisted before stepping back to give the pair some space. Once the Guildmaster had vanished back into the main hall, the elderly Dawnsider fixed his iron-hard eyes on Kadan, coughed his lungs clear, and began to speak.
"Do you understand the nature of names? Names of Legend, that is?" the Old Man asked between huffs from his nebuliser.
"It's inherited from father to son," Kadan answered as he scanned the corridor, looking for any sign of a lurking ganger or other shady figure. There was none, or at least none he could sense.
"An overly simple answer. Many people think they understand; they say foolish things about how they are related to nobility because their great-great-great grandfather was Highborn, but the law would never recognise such a claim. Some random off-shoot can never be worthy of an inherited name, and that is what is at stake here. I believe a conspiracy is afoot, one that was enacted some time ago to forever change the balance of power on our world, and their success has gone largely unnoticed."
"If there's a conspiracy, you had best explain it!" the captain barked.
The elderly ganger remained unflustered. "To understand the conspiracy, you must understand the laws that govern the passing of a Name. I shall use an example, perhaps the most obvious example for us on Taviksaad. Tavik of Legend, founder of our world, had four sons; Tavikat, Tavak, Tovak, and Tavakat. The eldest, Tavikat, was first to bear the name; he became Tavikat Tavik. He bore a son, Kaahl Tavik, so named by the laws of inheritance - as eldest son, the name passed through him. Now follow that line. Kaahl Tavik had sons of his own, the eldest being First Inheritor, the second Second Inheritor, and so forth. The eldest child is always bearer of the name by proxy, a mark of respect for their station, but the bloodname does not officially pass to them - only when their fathers and grand-fathers are dead or disinherited is the bloodline theirs. You follow so far?"
Kadan growled, "What I don't follow is why this matters. Everyone knows this is how it works!"
"No, this is how people think it works!" the Old Labourer snapped. "Alright, consider: If you had a younger brother and a bloodline to claim - the Ban bloodline for sake of argument - you would be Kadan Ban. If you have a son, he is also a 'Ban'. If he dies, and you die after, or if you both die together, your brother would become the new 'Ban'. But, and this is the part people fail to understand, if you died and your son died after, the bloodline ends. With your passing, your brother's claim to the bloodline is extinguished - only your son, his sons and his siblings may claim it now. When this happens, the First Successor is located. He becomes the new bearer of the bloodname. Now this matters; 'Successor' status is passed down the same way as the bloodline itself! Do you understand now?"
"I think so. The second son of Tavik is a 'Successor', and he passes that title the way Tavikat passed down the Tavik name? But doesn't that mean the successorship can be lost as well?"
"Ah, he finally understands! Yes, successorship can be lost, and has been lost! People believe that you can just work back up the family tree to Tavik himself and then search for any living relative, but you cannot! Successorship can only be given to direct descendants of the Legend, and once he dies no more can be sired. In this way the old bloodlines slowly die off. This is why the oldest lines, like the Line of T'rol are so venerated. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to preserve these names for thousands of years? It is a miracle! But those who understand the rules watch the Successors with great interest, and monitor their fates closely. You would be wise to do the same."
Kadan's brow furrowed, "but 'Ulfbehr' isn't a Name of Legend, is it?"
"Not officially, no," the elderly Kyyreni conceded. "But it is not uncommon for 'false names' to arise. Ulfbehr of House Vaskal would be such a name; Wokun descends from him in a manner in-keeping with the laws of inheritance and succession. It is one of the reasons why the Houseguards were content to let him take power over older, perhaps wiser men."
"And if House Vaskal were to lose this informal bloodline it would greatly weaken them?"
"Ah, Corrector-Captain! We'll make nobility of you yet!" the Old Labourer cackled. "Anyone who wished to unseat House Vaskal would first need to undermine their central line. The marriage between Ylari and Taahl was such a move, believe it or not. Taahl was to wed into House Vaskal, securing for them the Tavik bloodline and making their dominance absolute. But... matter unfolded behind closed doors. The marriage was annulled, Taahl was cut loose, and then miraculous fortune allowed him to not only take the House of Tavik as his own, but finally claim the marriage he had long since been denied. Only now he outranks Ylari in the great game's hierarchy, and so the line of Ulfbehr must surrender their eldest daughter. To people like you, it likely appeared a political union. To those of us who understand the rules, it was a sign that power is shifting."
"You talk in riddles," Kadan growled.
"Well, I am an old man, my mind is not what it was. I don't know what I'm saying half the time and I can't recall the other half," the elderly Kyyreni replied, putting on a befuddled tone of voice. "Lovely to meet you again, Corrector-Captain. Give my regards to the Lord Governor when you see him next."
Somewhat puzzled, mostly irritated, Kadan returned to the spirited debates taking place in the hall, returning to his place amongst his peers. "What did I miss?" he growled, showing more hostility to his superior than he wanted to.
The Guildmaster didn't seem to notice. "Your friend with the Lifters made a compelling case for the militias. It reflects badly on us, but after last year we've been under-strength. We need to hand the streets over to others so we can rebuild."
"So we're going with this?"
"For now, yes. If it gets rid of the likes of Haal and his mercenaries, I'll gladly suffer the indignity."
Kadan bit his tongue and focused instead on the rejuves. He could see the tell-tale signs of boredom, and knew the pair well enough to guess trouble would follow. "Much of interest happen so far?" he asked Skal. His tone was as pleasant as he could manage, but there was a hardness to his eye that made the boy cautious.
"I've not really been able to follow," Skal answered vaguely. "I did learn there's people here who are looking out for us Pennys. That came as a surprise, but I nice one."
"How so?" Kadan asked, and Skal recounted his earlier discussion with the Lifter and his companions. Kadan turned his gaze upward in thought as he listened. His train of thought made him snort with amusement, inadvertently cutting Skal off. "Sounds like they came to the same conclusion I did, or near enough. For different reasons, I guess, but maybe that means there's something to it. Maybe someone ought to take a turn on the stage and say as much."
"By 'someone' you mean me, don't you?" the Penny boy asked in a put-upon tone of voice.
"Why not? If it comes from me, it's just the Guild trying to dictate terms. Some will listen, but others won't unless it's demanded from on high. But you? The boy who stood up to me and demanded both fair treatment and deserved punishment? I think you'll get their attention."
Skal sunk into himself, ears flat and tail heavy at the prospect of having to address the gathering, yet as he sulked he felt an unexpected pressure in his paw. He looked up into Sam's blanched features. "I... I'll do it with you," she whispered, jaw trembling at the shock of what it had been forced to say. It was more than enough to fill the boy with new confidence, and a burning desire to impress. He had to fight the urge to kiss his Penny girl there and then.
In the end, it only took a few words from the Guildmaster to the King of Chance for Skal and Sam to be on the stage, with Kadan and the Guildmaster joining them to lend officialcy to the boy's statements. A microphone was provided, a hovering device that tottered just in the corner of Skal's vision. He tried not to look at the crowd or the cameras, instead finding a piece of ornamental woodwork above the main doors to focus on. "I..." he began poorly, fist balled to fight the urge to cover his exposed crotch. The only thing he could hear besides his own deafening heartbeat was the anxious whimpering of Sam beside him. "I w-wanted to... to thank you all, the ones I've spoken to I mean, for the kind words you've said. Umm..."
Out of the corner of his eye, Skal saw the King of Chance take to the stage again. The Enforcers behind Skal stepped aside to make room as the brutish Dawnsider approached and knelt down beside the shaking Penny boy. He placed a large, calloused hand on Skal's shoulder and spoke in a hushed tone, "I know what it's like, my lad. I've been where you are now, in every sense. Never a Penny, I suppose, but I've been on the wrong side of your Guild. I got these muscles breaking rocks in Iron Gaol. I've worn that collar too, twice in fact. Good thing about the Guilds is we do right by our own, and this little outfit of yours, embarrassing as you find it, is something only a guild-owned soul can wear. That means you've got the same right to speak on this stage as everyone else, and I will knock the heads of any who disagree! So you take a deep breath, get your thoughts all lined up, and speak what needs to be spoken."
The stage was his again. Skal breathed deeply, and again, letting his heart settle back to its normal resting purr before he tried to speak again. "I'm sorry for my nerves," he began. "I'm just scared of letting down my Guild... and my father... and all the penitatas who look up to me, who call me 'Skal the Reborn', who believe I can somehow make their lives better."
He took another steadying breath. The hall was quiet and attentive now. He caught Tosjig's face in the crowd, with Korat's hands upon is shoulders, and close by the Penny girl he and Kadan had rescued all those months ago. There were other penitatas as well, watching in that hopeful, awestruck way Hafn used to before they knew each other well enough to truly be friends. "I was one of the first penitatas, rejuvenated on Rejuve Day itself and sold to one of the men who helped bring about that day. I... was not a good Penny. I hated and feared my master, I lashed out often, and did things that-" he paused to glance back at Kadan, who was watching him with a look of concern. He turned back to the hall. "-that I should have been punished for much worse than I was. I suffered, I suffered a lot, and I felt like there was no escape. I know that other penitatas have felt that way as well, and I don't think that's fair."
"My master gave me a chance to make things better, to decide the rules I'd live by. That was where it started, I think. A little respect, a little trust, it helped to... to make me feel wanted, like I belonged somewhere. My master promised he'd make me a man my mother would be proud of. That's all I ever wanted, I just didn't realise it until I was rejuvenated. Now, I want to be someone my... my father can be proud of as well."
The boy paused to compose himself, and as he did Kadan stepped forward to place a supportive paw upon his head. "I think we're lucky, the penitatas who you've taken in. The ones I've met and spoken to, they've told me you take care of them, that you try to give them a future. Not all of us have that. We only have a future if our masters choose to give us one. For every Penny lucky enough to be taught a trade by our City's great Guilds, or sent to be educated in Udum's schools, or treated like an adopted son, there are others who are seen as just... things. Things to be worked, things to be beaten, things to be made to suffer. We should be punished for what we did, some more than others, but I think we deserve to know we matter."
"We aren't just smaller adults. We have an adult's memories, and sometimes we think like adults do, or want what adults want, but rejuves are children. When we let ourselves remember that, we play with toys and do stupid things and act our physical age. When you punish us, when you give us belts and paddles and canes, we bawl and cry for our mothers like a child does. When we get scared or lonely we call out for our mothers then as well. Only most of us don't have our flesh and blood parents to cling to. We... we need someone to be there for us. As much as we want to pretend we're still the people we used to be, rejuves and the people responsible for us need to accept our place as children. Different children, but children."
"So I would ask you all to speak to the Lords on behalf of all penitatas - no, not just penitatas, but all Rejuves - and try to make them understand that we all need more. Rejuves can't be left to do what they want, because they'll make stupid choices and get themselves in trouble. Pennys can't just be made to suffer, because it'll break us, make us either too scared or too full of hate to ever be a part of society again. We need teachers and mentors, protectors... even parents. You have all given that to the Rejuves you took into your Guilds. Now please, help give that to all Rejuves on Taviksaad."
A pregnant silence filled the hall. It seemed to last forever, a sucking void of soundlessness that ripped the very air from Skal's lungs. Then Korat raised a fist and shouted, "the boy is absolutely right! The Lifters Guild proposes we petition the Lords to establish new, clearer rules of conduct concerning Rejuves, ensuring their support and fair treatment!"
"The Chemists will second!"
The King of Chance grinned, "the Enforcers get the second, surely? My Guild shall also back this measure."
The Enforcers Guildmaster raised her paw for quiet as she took centre stage, although there remained a lot of background chatter and the odd stamping of footpaws. "If this is your will, I will have the Office of Correctors begin drafting proposals. I shall happily accept all input from any Guild generous enough to provide it. Your own standards on how rejuves of all stripes are treated within your orders would be a much welcomed start."
Kadan steered the two rejuves off the stage as the stamping of approval intensified. At the door to the main hall they found Ivaka waiting, smiling proudly in a dress that shimmered like oil. "That was quite the speech, young man. I see why Hafn holds you in high regard."
"Thank you," Skal answered with a blush.
The Corrector-Captain gave the boy's head-fur a ruffle. "You've gone and made a lot more work for me, you know that? Ah, let's get you somewhere you can enjoy the party."

The Guildmoot continued for several hours. Different parties took the stage, either to argue about previous issues or raise new ones of their own. The penitatas played no further part in the cheering or booing, left instead to enjoy the pleasures of good food and the friendly company of their peers. Formality fell away as the alcohol flowed, and the little gathering of Rejuves saw more than a few pairs of grinning Guilders snaking off for the stairs, returning later looking ruffled and smelling of sweat and sex.  For their part, no-one made such offers or demands, though they were given far too much alcohol for their small bodies to handle.
After much too long, the pair were finally taken home. The vast buffet was significantly depleted, but there was still more than enough left for the Enforcers to fill their faces with. Kadan encouraged them both to have their fill, and they did so to excess. The ride home felt much bumpier than the way out.
Safely back in the relative privacy of their office home, the three Correctors were greeted by Haal, who stood at attention with a self-satisfied grin on his features. "I am pleased to report all was well, Corrector-Captain."
"Glad to hear it. I think these two have earned a little playtime. Take them upstairs and keep an eye on them, make sure they don't cause any mischief."
The trio headed upstairs with the two Pennys taking the lead, giddy from their day and eager to unwind in private. By the time Haal caught up to them they were in the attic, with Sam nestled down into a bag-chair while Skal leaned over her, fussing at her collar. The boy's own was placed on a desk nearby. "I'm not sure I want to take this off you," the Penny boy purred as he flicked his tail against her leg playfully. "Seems like we won't get a chance to wear this stuff again in a long time, and I think we should take advantage while we can."
Sam giggled at the comment, biting her lower lip. That alone was enough to send lightning down Skal's spine and cause the tip of his cock to slip from his sheath. The girl noticed and grinned even more. "Can't believe you managed to stay soft all day. I'd have thought you'd be rock hard the moment the crowd laid eyes on your sexy little parts."
"'Little' parts?" Skal growled. "Maybe you need a reminder of just how big my parts are!" He nipped at her and pressed his hips forward, humping his soft, but swelling boyhood against her crotch to arouse himself, spurred on by the pleasant sounds the Kyyreni girl made. He leaned back to kiss her, but noticed the stiffness of Sam's body and the blush on her face. He turned towards Haal, lurking close to the stairs awkwardly.
"The Corrector-Captain said I was to keep an eye on you," the Medicalos mumbled quietly, clearly out of sorts at having walked into the beginnings of their rutting. He glanced away and added quietly, "he didn't expressly say you couldn't carry on as you are."
"Thank you, Haal," Sam purred, wrapping her arms around Skal and whispering soft, dirty words into his ear to spur him back into action. "We both know you like an audience. Imagine we're back on that stage, with all the Guilds watching us fuck."
The boy gave a whimper at her words. No longer holding his dirtiest desires in check, they entered through his ears and made his cock jolt. His knot popped free and swelled rapidly, hot and painfully eager. He pressed his lusting length against Sam's opening and thrusted, his hips driven by a wild need pent-up from the many weeks since they had last had physical intimacy and made all the more intense by the hours of exhibition. He found her loose and wet, taking his entire length and the knot without effort, only to clamp down immediately as the sensation of his throbbing boyhood stroking her insides triggered a sudden climax. Skal yelped at the clenching and blew his seed inside of her, his mind blanking at the intensity of it. For several long, blissful seconds there was nothing but the waves of pleasure that washed over each of them, yet it was pleasure without release. They both needed more.
Skal lifted Sam's leg and began to hump again as she relaxed in the wake of her orgasm, giving him freedom to work. The Kyyreni girl raised her paws above her head and gripped the soft seat as best she could, gasping and yipping at each feral thrust. Their tails met and wrapped together, the simple sensation giving a pleasant surge of bliss that enhanced the raw, animalistic pleasure of Skal's thrusting. It was a primal coupling, far different to the childish ruts they'd shared before; it was more like a false heat, or the long and forceful docking of adults in the Revelry. Skal clenched his jaws and snarled through his second orgasm, but his hips never slowed nor his cock soften. The primal dominance of the act left Sam whimpering in submission, and the hot pounding of her girlhood forced a second climax from her. When she loosened again, her whole body shaking, Skal rolled her onto her belly. The motion gave her new and wonderful sensations as her cunny was rubbed in new and strange ways. The girl buried her face in the bag-chair to muffle a loud, shameless cry as she came twice in the space of a minute.
With his paw tightly on the base of the girl's tail, Skal pounded his hips into her. Sweat poured down his face and chest and he grunted and snarled, losing himself completely. He had cum himself dry, but still he wouldn't soften. The dry orgasms were agony, but that agony was the most wonderful feeling in the world. He swore he could feel his own cum coating Sam's insides, lubricating his hot, pulsing cock as he drove into her again and again. It felt like he was going to be locked with her for the rest of his life, and he did not care.
The boy's hips stilled, not for lack of lust but because he was simply too exhausted to continue. Sam's final climax was long, slow and spent, releasing him as his knot finally relented. The sensation of his blood flowing back into his body made him dizzy, and it seemed to bring a crippling ache with it. His legs threatened to collapse from under him as he stepped back, a messy string of cum keeping both Pennys linked for a time before snapping and pattering their mixed fluids onto chair and floor alike. Sam shook and convulsed wordlessly, overwhelmed by the aftershock of such a forceful mating. "I... I love you..." Skal panted. He felt it had to be said, after all they'd just done.
Haal crept over, his muzzle crimson as he offered Skal a towel to clean himself before doing the same for Sam. "You should both shower," he muttered. Skal wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or angry.
The two lovers used each other for support as the headed to the shower, drowsy and fatigued from their exertions. They didn't speak, but whenever their eyes met they would both blush and giggle sheepishly, drunk on the endorphins of a mad passion normally reserved for much older Kyyreni than they. After an uneventful shower, for they were both too spent to make play of it, the penitatas shook themselves out and wrapped each other in warm, fuzzy towels before sitting down to drip. Haal came to them soon after bearing clean clothes. The Medicalos looked less flustered now, but he still wouldn't look either of them in the eye.
The three stepped into the hall together to be set upon by Kadan. The captain looked out of sorts, stripped to an old pair of pants he kept when he had no need of anything else. "Ah, I was looking for you, Skal. I need the bedroom for myself tonight. You can stay with Kas, or with Sam if you prefer. Just for tonight, alright?"
"Oh, okay," Skal answered him, puzzled by the announcement.
"Good. Good. Why don't you all go back upstairs? It's not that late yet."
They obeyed, but all three lingered on the upper landings, gripped by a childish curiosity. They watched as a Kyyreni, young, well-dressed and unmistakably female flickered briefly into view. Skal's mouth fell agape. He hadn't had a perfect view, but he'd seen enough to recognise the female who had gone to Kadan's bedchambers.
Lady Ylari of House Tavik.