Shields and Stars

The Tale of the Stoat Uprising In Southsward

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

Chapter 1

Murmurings

Nuriem was no far-flung hamlet. It was a broad township, spanning a full fifth a league from one end to the other. A small river cut across its southern side, its waters thick with watercress and no deeper than a mouse's chest. The edifices were tall, all about three stories, fashioned in the southland style of rimey plaster overlaying the base timbers, leaving only the smoothed timber slat roofs and window panes exposed. The streets, intricate and cobbled, were adorned with a sumptuous array of stairs, ramps, pillars, windings, and stone benches. The dormouse gatekeeper seemed right about one thing: The outer walls being constructed of wood had been a fool's work. The entire township had a slight air of advancement about it, richness really.

It was no wonder the place seemed so well-off. The ruler of this town, a retired Long Patrol Colonel by the name of Lord Gordon Lea Rainwhether II, was largely to blame. He was well-known for having an expensive taste, sometimes at the expense of practicality, but the goodbeast citizens of Nuriem served him well just the same, albeit with a little gossiping.

It was not just those of the goodbeast clade who dwelled here, however. Members of species swiftly denounced as "vermin" also resided in the stacked townhouses and stucco-splattered dens.

The town was not set up like most places. For one, waist-high walls partially severed parts of Nuriem off from the rest of it. Each section was called a Quarter, and there were twelve of these, and in each a single specie was assigned to live. They could visit businesses in the other Quarters, but not live there. Such was the wish of His Lordship. The Quarters of the five vermin kinds were huddled together, occupying the south and slightly east portion of the settlement. The goodbeasts far outnumbered the vermin residents, and were wary to do business with them. Because you never can tell with vermin, even if they're your neighbors.

Tallon lived in Stoat Quarter. His home was very like that of any of the squirrels or otters or hares, only the stucco was a tad cracked under the eaves and he hadn't the pay or time to fix it. His current work involved running errands, delivering packages, letters, gifts and orders to various sections and creatures. The ancient rabbit that ran the service was nearly blind, so Tallon had lied and told the old one that he was just a slightly runty otter. Thankfully, his name was not to obviously stoatish for the rabbit, and he believed him.

Staying calm and composed despite the impossibly tall stack of wrapped boxes cradled in his auburn-furred arms, Tallon dodged and darted his way through the center of town, Market Square. It was technically not a part of any Quarter, and therefore it was easier to avoid the hard cold scrutiny of his neighbors there. His long service tunic, a medium grey but stained slightly from an accident with some cider, fluttered as he jumped back to avoid a wheelbarrow of rhubarb being hurried along by an impatient mouse.

From every stall came chatter. A pair of squirrelladies bickered over the price of hazelnuts. An otter called hoarsely for beasts to come look at his shad and grunion. A hare laughed aloud at a joke from a vole as they both leaned on a firkin of ale. Sound was never absent to this get-together. Tallon found a sidetrack and hopped right into it, skillfully slipping around mice and moles equally burdened with the products of their shopping binges.

"Oof!"

The hard, solid wall of flesh came out of nowhere, too fast for even Tallon to avoid. Scurrying to collect all his deliveries, the young stoat felt a shadow fall over his back and took a slow look upward. Above him stood an otter.

"Watch where you're walkin'!" the otter said, his frightening light brown eyes narrowing. Instantly Tallon recognized him; this otter was His Lordship's Captain of the Guard. The hulking beast wore thick canvas breeches overlaid with waist armor and shin guards, but his straining chest was bare save a crossbelt of cerulean blue marked with a silver star. The belt marked him as commander of Lord Rainwhether's police force, largely otters but also a few hares and squirrels. A long sling of woven kelpfibers hung from the crossbelt, not loaded but still rather threatening.

"S-sorry, sir!" Tallon squeaked, bowing profusely and backing towards the items which lay on the ground. The otter snorted and pointed a meaty claw at him.

"Just don't ye dare do it agin!" He turned, standing up straight with his paws clasped behind his back officiously. The Captain was proud of his position, and never wasted an opportunity to show a miscreant who was boss. Yet he was not in the mood today to humiliate this cheeky stoat. Something else was on his mind more prominently.

A lower-ranking otter appeared, trotting up to give his report. The Captain gave a fierce nod for him to go ahead.

"All clear in Ferret Quarter, skipper, no sign o' those vandals from yesterday. I'm thinkin' they left town."

"Hogwash," the Captain said plainly, "Nobeast leaves Nuriem. It's too ordered a place, an' besides His Lordship would 'ave a fit." He pawed at his sling to be sure it was still there.

"But sir, a ferret would leave," his underling suggested. The Captain gave him a hard look, "W-well, you know. Vermin can't 'andle peace an' suchlike."

"Right," the big otter sighed, staring at a cobblestone. The other otter turned to leave but was stopped when he spoke again, "By the way... Any word of 'appenin's at Stoat Quarter?"

The soldier was dumbfounded. He scratched his cheek with a webbed claw and thought about it.

"Can't say I 'ave, skip. You s'spect somthin'?"

"Ahh, never you mind." He laughed in response, giving his subordinate a hearty shove in the back. The lower-ranked otter laughed also, though he didn't know why he was. It seemed appropriate to do as his commander did.

Tallon did not move until the two big lutrines were gone from his sight. Then he bolted upright, scooping up his deliveries and taking off with the speed of a kite. He made good time to all of his appointments, though a few rabbits gave him some scathing looks as he came to their doors. He was used to it by now, to the point where it hardly even bothered him.

After he was done, he waited on the stone bench where he always did after his tasks were done. Findarr would come every day to have a laugh as they spied on the beasts passing on the nearby street, giggling as they made fun of all the odd characters who had decided to travel to the township. The broadwalk was the one leading in from the great West Gate, so all the new arrivals and transients were bound to pass.

Findarr arrived, a curious but charming sight as always. The tall lean stoat, garbed in a good silk shirt of powder blue and snow-white linen trousers, sauntered up and joined him. His long headfur, which was almost golden in color despite most of the rest of him being pale brown, was constantly being shuffled about either by wind or by his roaming paws. His rolling, cheerful laugh dominated Tallon's low snickering one as they mocked a passing rabbit. And he was ever eloquent at describing the folly and the silliness of their targets' behavior and dress.

"How now? Lookit that old lump of a hare!" Findarr cackled, pointing with a slender claw at the waddling creature.

"Hoi! Perilous hare! You perilous 'cause you sit on beasts t' kill 'em?!" Tallon hooted, earning a very nasty look from the bespectacled creature. Findarr threw his head back and howled with merriment.

"What's the matter, young fellow?" He taunted a mouse with particularly long sleeves which he was currently wiping his snout on, "Got a bit of a sick, have ya? Well, good job keeping it to yourself! Wouldn't want the tissues to be out of commission!"

"Hoi! You comin' or goin'? I can't bleedin' tell!" Tallon made the crack at a big, scar-faced squirrel, whom he didn't notice was wearing a silver star until it was far too late. Findarr seized his companion's shoulder in his claws and frantically begged him to hush, but by then it truly was too late. The squirrel glared and strode over, kicking Tallon hard in the shin.

"Up, you." He grunted. Findarr found his paw straying to his side, but cursed inwardly when he remembered that openly carrying a weapon was expressly forbidden for the vermin species. "Up! Wot's yore game, disturbin' these goodbeasts' peace?!"

"We're terribly sorry, good sir," Findarr babbled like a brook, jumping in front of Tallon before his friend made things worse. Tallon was scowling back at the squirrel unwisely, his temper flaring now that he had been challenged. "We were only having a bit of fun, that's all. We'd no idea it would offend a goodbeast as yourself."

"Offended, eh?!" the squirrel smile slowly, "You think I'm offended?"

"Oh, please sir, we're only youngbeast-"

"Shove off, tubby. Ain't a crime t' tell the truth!" Tallon snarled rebelliously. The squirrel stood ramrod straight in outrage, never thinking a mere stoat would dare stand up to a soldier of Nuriem.

"You little... Hellspawn!" He roared. A strong paw struck out, knocking them both over. He reached slowly, lovingly for a caning rod strapped across his back, a triumphant smirk on his scarred features, "I'm gonner enjoy punishin' you both!"

With no warning the rod was half a rod. Staring at it in puzzlement, the soldier almost did not notice the undersized rat clad in maroon hooded cloak standing beside him, a long rapier in paw.

"Why do you persecute these youngbeasts?" the rat said. The squirrel gave a gasp of shock and put distance between them.

"'Ow'd you-Who're you? Are you registered in Rat Quarter?!"

The rat shook his head, staring at the puffing guard in genuine puzzlement.

"No. I come from the outside, from Southsward and beyond. What crime have these two done?" he pressed further.

"Talkin' back to an officer of th' law!" the squirrel said matter-of-factly. The rat's blade rose a fraction.

"That is... a crime here?" the rat paused, "This is not what I expected to find..."

The two young stoats, stunned and amazed by the rat's bold disobeying of Nuriem laws, watched in wonderment and slight horror as the scarred squirrel guard threw aside his ruined caning rod and drew out a straight-edged sword instead. The rat's footpaws suddenly shuffled apart in a fluid motion, requiring almost no thought or effort. The squirrel roared aloud:

"Aye, an' so is 'avin' a frogsticker like yores." Creatures nearby had frozen, looking on with dinner-plate eyes, "I know yore type, scum. Th' only good blade fer a bilgerat like you is th' one stickin' out of 'im!"

Kyol the rat remained as still as a fencepost as his enemy threw himself forward, cleaving the air wildly. His face, invisible to all watchers, bore a trace of a calm smile. He took a single step and joined the fray with all the skill he'd inherited not from his forefathers, but from a rough life God-knows-where.

First official chapter! Please remember to review if you see something you like or something I need to work on!