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Family Trouble in the Ninth and Tenth

This one has been a long time coming. I’ve had this commission from Marsel-Defender in my files since May 2024, but I had been dragging my feet with regards to writing a story that fit with it. I had some ideas floating, but didn’t know which idea to commit to.

Eventually, I had a moment back in June 2025 where I was inspired to pen a few pieces. This is one of them, and it fit perfectly with the image.

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It was late in the evening, and Azurium was just about to set his files in order and leave his office. Slowly, but surely, the precinct was growing populated by secret members of the Titan Syndicate. Some, like himself, went through Volpes’s alchemical enhancement process and came out with larger, stronger, more youthful bodies. Those were the easiest to spot among his fellow guardsman, for they stood a full head taller than the others. Even the largest uniforms could not fully cover their bodies, so many of their number had exposed, defined midriffs, if they bothered with the full plate, and sections of fur or scale coming out of the gaps between shoulder pads and bracers.

Others, like the black wolfkin with bright blue eyes approaching his door in full chainmail and gambeson, were more common among their conspiracy. Azurium remembered the day he recruited Maxwell vividly. He had entered Azurium’s office to hand the captain his letter of resignation, claiming he could no longer handle the job. The heavily-muscled tigerkin didn’t need to believe his subordinate: His enhanced senses could discern the honesty coming from the relatively young recruit. It was a calculated risk to invite him into the Titan Syndicate without the enhancement (and to Volpes’s chagrin: the brainwashing), but it eventually paid off. Even better, it served as a template for how to create less conspicuous membership.

So when he smelled the young canine’s approach, Azurium motioned for him to come in and shut the door behind himself so they could speak freely.

“Captain!” There was a tension in Maxwell’s posture and voice that Azurium misliked less for what it was and more what it could represent. The boy was eager to help, but he was still learning how to navigate his ‘new role’.

“Max, remember what I told you before. Don’t panic if someone gets too close, I can get them off your back.” Using the vial of invisible ink, Azurium had just finished drafting his report to Volpes, a sketch of the floor plans for the House Blancolm Estate. Growing up, he remembered hating the Blancolm family patriarch almost as much as he hated his own father. When Volpes suggested them as a tempting first target, the large feline couldn’t help but smile.

But that smile wouldn’t survive the next few words from Maxwell’s lips. “That’s n- It’s your kid, sir. Another precinct ran him in.”

“Edmund?” A pregnant pause filled the room alongside the tension. “Which precinct?”

“Ninth, sir! Their guys say they caught him breaking curfew.”

Azurium leapt out of his chair so quickly that he could swear Maxwell had nearly jumped out of his fur, ears raised and alert. He was in no state for pleasantries, but made a mental note to himself to apologize later for the outburst.

“I’ll handle it. I was leaving anyway.”

Regaining his composure, if only barely, poor Max couldn’t help but interject even when he knew better, still trembling from the adrenaline. “But Si- Az. D- Don’t you have to meet with V-”

He was interrupted before he could finish. “It can wait.” The older tiger had his paw on the door handle, but before he could open the door Maxwell tried one more time. Had he been in a better mood, Azurium might’ve admired the kid’s ability to fight through his obvious fear.

“Max.”

The canine, thankful to be fully clad in armor at the moment, looked up at his statuesque boss.

“Sir?”

“I gotta piece of advice for you. Something you’re gonna need to carry with you if you wantta make it.” Even he could hear how his accent was starting to slip, the years of speech training from his youth drifting away in the current of emotions.

“Yes, sir.”

With his free hand and powerful grip, Azurium nearly ripped Maxwell’s own paw off the doorknob. Whatever instincts were left in the wolfkin’s body triggered just soon enough to release his hold before the titan could put enough force on it to cause real damage.

“Never get between a father and his cub. It doesn’t end well.”

Max could only watch as the captain barged past him and into the armory, breathing a sigh of relief when he only came out wearing a helmet, carrying no form of weapon or additional armor. Before the old tiger headed for the exit, he turned to face that black wolf, and the young man flinched at the intensity of the glare.

Azurium was sure, as he left for the Ninth District, that he would definitely need to apologize once he had cooled down.

—————————————————————————————

As the clear dark skies gave way to torrential downpours, the old military mind trapped within the skull of Bartholomew Azurium began to churn. He knew that the chill in the air would give him an advantage over the sopping wet guards outside the Ninth’s Precinct. The coarseness of his own tiger fur and the titan enhancements gave him both a natural and unnatural protection from the rain, while the other Oplentian guards would be shivering in the dampness of their gambisons.

Once upon a time, it disturbed the old soldier how quickly that training, and all the years of suicide missions, could resurface when he needed to call upon it. These days, it was just another aspect of living with himself. And if the reputation of the Ninth was to be believed, he would soon be grateful for the instincts.

Two guards were standing at the front gate: Standard security. Their uniforms made it hard to identify what they were, but Azurium could hear the rattling of shivering teeth. Between the chill and the scales poking out of a loose-fitting uniform, he suspected one of them was a cold-blooded beastkin. If they weren’t in the way, he might have even been sympathetic to the poor fool.

“State your business!”

A captain’s badge was easy to identify by sight alone, and he had been at the job long enough to talk-the-talk as he presented his.

“Captain Azurium of the Tenth. I’m here to speak to your Captain.”

While the cold-blood was too busy freezing their ass off, their partner was less than cooperative. Even covered head-to-toe, raining concealing his scent, there was simply no containing the obnoxious aura and smarmy demeanor radiating from an idiot who didn’t know what he was dealing with.

“Azurium, huh? Here to bail out your little shit?”

Either Azurium was doing an excellent job masking his rage, or the doorman was simply too stupid to take the hint. The old soldier was willing to bet the latter.

“Watch your mouth, kid.”

“Or what? Shirtless Captain Hobo is gonna-”

Outside of spars and drills, the last time Azurium had ever hit a human or a beastkin was back in his teenage years: A rebellious youth seeking to spite his old man. It was all too easy to solve problems with violence, and the expedience always came at a price. He knew that better than most.

And yet, before he could even begin to think, his fist had already left a massive dent in the arrogant one’s helmet. It flew off as its owner found himself facedown on the ground, another tiger like him as it turned out.

He had forgotten his own strength, and looking down at the fallen guardsman made that neglect all the more clear. It was a brutal, horrific display. Azurium wasn’t even entirely sure a tiger’s jaw was capable of being in that position, which probably explained the blood, both on the ground and on his hand.

Anyone else in his position might have panicked, but he had seen far worse in his life. Even a wound that ghastly could be mended with prompt application of medical magic.

“You. Get your friend to the medic. They can get him patched up.”

To his surprise, the shivering wreck proffered some resistance to his order, but didn’t stand in the way as he walked past. “B- But…”

“What?” These simpletons just couldn’t stop testing his already thin patience. He could feel his voice growing more guttural in his vocal chords.

“He’s not my friend. Uh… Sir. I don’t even like him.” He turned back to the inept cold-blood with a look that shot daggers into their soul.

“Do I look like I care!?” 

Between the growl, the glare and the blood, there was more than enough to impress the urgency onto the mewling neophyte. They started dragging the unconscious body as quickly as they could, both to get medical attention and to put as much distance between them and the crazed tigerkin hobo captain.

—————————————————————————————

He put his helmet back on as he entered the building proper. Even though the rain had washed the blood off of his hand, the ruckus outside combined with the gruesome sight of the tiger being dragged to the medical office was enough to raise the alarm. The only thing Azurium could think to do is show his Captain’s Badge and hope he could improvise the rest.

Alright, Az. This shitshow has gone pear-shaped, but you’ve been through worse. Your boy is counting on you.

His inner monologue was right, and as one of the receptionists began to speak he could feel an opportunity opening up.

“You’re a Captain!? And you did that to Jerry?” The mustelidkin male operating the front desk was wearing street clothes.  Azurium suspected his shift would have already ended were it not for the ‘fight’ that broke out by the front door.

“Self-defense. He attacked me first.”

“Prove it.”

“I outrank you, son. And my precinct brings in far more money than yours. That’s all the proof you need in this city.”

Even down here in the dirt, away from the lofty heights of House Azurium, Bartholomew knew that the fundamental truth of Oplentis was that it was a city ruled by wealth and power above all, and he just demonstrated he had more of both. 

The receptionist didn’t have a way to fight this battle further. “B- Fine. What do you want?”

“I want to speak to your Captain, kid.” He’s gonna let my son go if he knows what’s good for him.

Whatever antiperspirant the mustelid used was working double-time to cover up the cold sweat, and Azurium could smell it.

“He’s a busy man. I don’t know if he has t-”

Another beastkin, a lithe mousekin dressed immaculately in white finery, stepped out from behind the wall. “Don’t bother. The traitor of House Azurium is as stubborn as a mule.”

Since when was House Blancolm raising guard captains? They were never a military family.

The middle-aged scion had clearly anticipated the question even though it wasn’t asked. Azurium supposed that his face had given it away. 

“Your House isn’t the only one in disrepair.”

“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t been part of the family in a long time.” Internally, Azurium noted that in all that time, even through all the hell his family put him through for severing ties, he was much happier than he had even been as a child.

“No. I guess you wouldn’t.” There was a pang of something, some combination of jealousy and disbelief, that crept into the noble’s voice. “My office is on the second floor. We can talk more there.”

As Azurium took his seat, his rainsoaked form dampening the guest sofa, he noticed that young Blancolm was making the same checks Max and other non-titans tended to before they were about to say things they didn’t want other people to hear. Once he finally grew comfortable, and sat in his own seat behind his desk, he started to speak.

“We didn’t know who he was when we arrested him.”

While obviously true, his remark was a deflection. Even without titan senses, Azurium could’ve detected it. Pressing further might be the key to ending this without any more problems.

“What were your dumbass men doing in my district?”

He could feel the rodent’s heart rate quicken, see the way he was fidgeting, and he knew he was onto something.

“I… I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.”

The curtness of the remark was enough to knock the noble off guard, unsure of how to respond. “What?”

“You’re lying. And you’re not good at hiding it.” Azurium was starting to feel the pendulum swing in his direction. Inside his mind, the anger was starting to abate, but he maintained an aggressive posture. He still had to look the part.

“Your boy was in our district.” The mousekin had finally found his footing. Outwardly, anyone would’ve seen the picture of composure. But to the tigerkin’s titan senses, between the erratic heartbeat and the perspiration, it was obvious.

You are hiding something.

“So if I start digging into this, I won’t find anything suspicious about the way you arrested my boy?”

The question hung in the air for a profound moment before all pretense evaporated.

“Fine. The Great House Azurium wins again. What do you want?”

Bartholomew ignored the thinly veiled contempt directly at his former family. “Let the boy go, and we can all pretend none of this ever happened.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

The mousekin considered the offer. Azurium suspected he was wondering whether he could fish for more leverage, but even he could see the odds weren’t in his favor. “Fine. But before you go, might I offer some advice to the traitor-son of House Azurium?”

The old soldier assumed that must be what Oplentian nobility calls him now, after severing all ties. “Depends on what it is.”

“At least pretend that you want to see the boy. It won’t do for a scion of House Azurium to be mistaken for a filthy stray like his father.”

This time, Azurium was able, albeit barely, to contain the flash of indignation before his barbed tongue was set loose upon the mousekin. Instead, he stood up to leave.

“Noted.”