Chapter Two: Sheldton's Jailbreak

Thob...thob...thob...

The sound of a rubber ball, as Sheldton Tan bounced it against the stone wall of his cell. "Guilty." The words of his cousins and former fellows still echoed in his head. "Traitor." The word echoed in his head. All of them...he thought, as he caught the ball after it had bounced off the wall once more. The otter, clenching it tightly in his paw, to where it looked likely to burst. "All of them," he growled, "are a bunch of muckin' idiots! Couldn't even see what I was trying to do for them. So high and pretentious in their seats of power. So easy to judge..."

Sheldton gripped the ball tighter before launching it with great force against the wall once more. The otter, as he threw it, still unable to stop thinking about how he'd ended up in this hole known as the Grot, a prison designed specifically with the intent to counter any training he might have received as former head of Pentarchy Military operations, it had been built to contain Sheldton after he had been brought before his fellow Pentarchy members by Pentarchy head of welfare, Gloriana Fenbrake and heir to the title of Lod'zhak, Kysandra Wasserfjord. Both of whom, if he ever got out of here, he then intended to get his vengeance on. For it was these two he blamed the most for his current predicament. The way they presented him to his colleagues like he was some kind of villain. Like he was detached from reality. A fact Sheldton disagreed with vehemently. For all he saw when looking in the mirror, was an otter who'd tried to save his people and had gotten nothing whatsoever for it, because all of his colleagues were too shortsighted to appreciate his endeavors.

So what, if he'd tried to use ancient magic?

So what, if he'd tried to re-write the fabric of space, time, and history itself? The otter felt it would've been worth it, if only to re-make the Solmani Empire in the image of what not only he deemed proper, but what he thought Ana and Tan, the founders of modern otter society, would've deemed acceptable as well.

Sheldton snorted in disgust. "And it would've been marvelous!" he declared loudly. "No interference from other races... the otters achieving glory all on their own... the Pentarchy focused only on the spiritual and communal growth of the Otter people. None of this nonsense about making progressive changes, or inviting other races into our culture to improve economic growth..."

The otter snarled. "It would've been amazing," he roared, "if people here only had the vision to embrace it! If they saw we don't need anyone but ourselves and could see things my way!" the otter hollered, as he once more picked up the ball and was again going to throw it against the wall, before he had to duck and cover at the event of a loud explosion that blew out the door of his cell. "What the...!?" was all Sheldton could manage to exclaim, as his ears were still ringing from the noise of the event. The otter, a bit in shock and a bit disoriented at the unpredictable chaos, then checked to see if all parts of his body were still intact. A cursory examination, revealing that yes, all parts were attached and were where they should be. That no, he didn't have any foreign projectiles lodged in him, which of course was good. And no, he did not have any life-threatening injuries, which of course was superb to know as well.

The otter sighed. Rolling his eyes, he dusted himself off, and stood to try and get a glimpse above the settling clouds of dust and debris, to see what or who had caused this massive explosion. The otter, as he squinted, managed to make out what looked like a sort of silhouette approaching out of the pale brown mist.

Yes...the figure became clearer and clearer as it drew closer. Eventually it became clear as the figure finally stepped forth from the dust, that it was Dylan Frostwood. Decked from head to toe still, in her fur trimmed hat, and fur trimmed coat.

"Sheldton," she addressed the former head of security politely. "You are Sheldton Tan?"

"Yes..."

The otter nodded warily, not sure what to make of this flamboyant figure whom he recalled was an individual he'd last laid eyes on five years ago, just before Kysandra and Gloriana had brought him before his former fellows on charges of treason, sedition, and conspiracy to overthrow the government. A memory, he noted, which seemed to keep rearing its ugly head, as he once again brushed it aside, and focused his attention squarely back on the ermine who now paced about the room. A sort of scheming and mischievous air seeming to cling to her, as she continued with the words, "Ah, good. A pleasure Sheldton. I was hoping we had the right cell. Allow me to introduce myself. The name's Dylan. Dylan Frostwood. You may remember me from five years ago, when all that nonsense and fuss over the tomb and treasure of Aloysius St. Abbot was going on. I was with Captain Gutgore at the time, who if you recall, had Colin Leonard engaged in a bet, that if he could find the tomb and treasure in three months, he would return to Colin some musty old relic, whose importance only that prairie dog's order itself knows?"

Sheldton's eyes widened. "Yes," he snarled. "I remember Gloriana and Kysandra, my cousins, talking about that at my trial...Gutgore, some polar bear corsair, wasn't he? I...I was incapacitated at the time, but I heard when they were giving account of my actions to my counterparts, that Colin, Incarcera take him, handed over the gauntlets, the gauntlets I worked so hard to find and which I planned to use for the betterment of all otter society, to that corsair you just mentioned! Where is he? Where is Gutgore with my gauntlets? Is he here!? I'll throttle him myself!"

Dylan paused in her pacing and clicked her tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Temper, temper." she chided. "I'd watch that if I were you, dear Sheldton. That is if you don't want to end up like Gutgore. A fiend, whom I should let you know, has already departed us, unfortunately. Sorry, if this denies you a chance at the vengeance you so desperately desire. I can only say, that the means by which that fool departed us, was far more eloquent than the crude means of strangulation you seem so eager to provide."

"Oh? Wait...how would you know..."

"...How he died?"

Dylan turned and issued Sheldton the kind of smirk which neither confirmed nor denied a thing of what the otter might have been thinking. "That's none of your business," she whispered, as she snorted softly. "Besides, the reason I came to break you out, has nothing to do with the death of my former captain. You Sheldton, meet certain requirements that make you a necessity in the plan which I have spent five years constructing and which only now, is ready to be executed. You have a sharp mind. A tactician's wit. You have the connections I need to make a good plan great."

"Oh?"

Dylan nodded as she leaned against the stone wall. "The Anaton Covenant," she stated getting straight to the point. "Aside from you, I need them as well. I don't know how to reach them. I don't know how to gather them. They've been scattered I hear, ever since the Lod'zhak cracked down and cleared out their hidey-holes, after bringing you in."

Sheldton nodded. "Standard protocol," he replied. "We gather, do a job, and then disperse back to our regular day jobs until we get signaled again. Only a sector leader can signal a gathering, so if you want to find them, good luck. Anyone who might be a member will just outright deny their involvement. We're like foxes. Once we den in, good luck gettin' us out."

Dylan smirked. "Oh, I don't want to root them out," she stated. "I want to use them. You...the covenant...I believe you all have the right idea. That is...even if it is a little narrow in vision and doctrine."

"Well, finally...wait. What do you mean, narrow in vision and doctrine?"

"I mean...you want to remake the Solmani Empire into something you feel better fits the traditions of your ancient otter ancestors. A pure, traditional empire, free of influence from outside thought which to some degree, I understand. Though I do have to question, why do you limit yourself only to an empire of Otters? Why perhaps, not an empire of say oh...Otters, martens and ermines?"

Sheldton's eyes went wide.

"Are...Are you talking about bringing back Musteladonia?" he whispered, unsure if he was hearing right. "That...That's crazy. It... It's brilliant...but it's crazy, isn't it? I mean...how would we even go about doing something like that? Just...Just if we were to partner together on this and do something like that? I mean where..."

"...Where would we begin?"

Dylan nodded for Sheldton to come closer. "That's the beautiful part," she stated, stroking his chin. "I've already started. The plan has been in motion for five years. It's just been waiting for the final pieces to be put into play. One piece, which I just picked up from the Isle of Ourobouros. Another my dear, which is you and your Anaton Covenant. And the third...my shadow knight, who has been in play all along, with nobody being the wiser. You understand?"

Sheldton nodded. He understood. He smiled as he followed behind Dylan who led him out of the cell. He didn't know necessarily if he trusted this ermine, but he liked the way she talked and the way she seemed to have every piece all planned out.

Yeah...whatever was going to happen, it seemed like it would be something that Sheldton didn't want to miss out on.

And besides...when was he going to get another chance to break out of prison this easily? Probably never.