Epilogue

Southsward

Like a disease, the empire had rose from a small start and had gone on to conquer the land. Vafír Silvertung, fox warlord of the south, had grown ambitious, and gathered vermin. He was sly, persuasive, and disciplined. He gathered raggedy bands of foxes and rats, then had them trained by himself and the few he found competent enough. Though they were small, they became strong, loyal, skilled, and smart. After years of gathering and training rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, and foxes, his ambitions widened. He traveled to Drev Malki, fortress of cats, that had ruled the southern vermin. He had made a meeting with their leader, the fierce wildcat Zarvil Deathbringer, and killed the wildcat in a duel when the cat refused to submit to him. He then turned their great castle into a fortress of his empire.

And it went so forth. All vermin of the southlands had gone from weak, undisciplined, stupid, foolhardy, and self-absorbed to strong, powerful, disciplined, smart, sly, and immensely loyal to one.

Vafír Silvertung.

They had farms were the weaker vermin or their broken slaves worked at, feeding the massive army. The empire had expanded to islands, and the far, far south, and had dominated the land. Vafír decided who lived or died, and now his ambitions were set northward.

He called his second in command, Darkblood the rat, to his study at his castle, Cruer Mors, previously called Floret when some foolish squirrels ruled the land.

"What lies to the north?" asked the fox.

Darkblood looked upon his master. Vafír was white, like a bleached bone. His eyes violet, and stared into your soul. He was dressed in a scarlet tunic that, laced with gold, and had no scars except for one, across his chin. No blade but one had ever come close enough. The fox was undersized, but Darkblood knew his mind was sharper and his sword skills mightier than any in the land. But the fox knew better than to kill his subjects. He punished them to the farms until they were stronger and more disciplined. All of his soldiers must be the best of the best. And Darkblood was the best of the best of the best.

"Lord, to the north is the forest of Mossflower, and that traveling gang of foxes say there is an abbey full of peaceable woodlanders, but many vermin have tried to conquer, and all failed. Furthermore, the mountain of Salamandastron is north, and Lord Brawblade Wildstripe is sympathetic with the abbey, and less fond of vermin. His army of hares are fierce fighters, even though we outnumber them. But there is still the fact of those who thought they could defeat them. You know the most famous of them. Cluny the Scourge, Ferrahgo the Assassin, Ruggan Bor, his descendants are with us, actually–"

"I know the names, Darkblood. More than you probably. Slagar, Razzid, Gulo, Vizka, Damug, and more, and I know they failed," Silvertung said. Then grinned slyly, "But you know how I love a challenge."

The Far North, Castle Mortspear

Queen Kamataya lazily bit down on a roasted magpie. "Mmm... well, Virrayna, you really outdid yourself this time. I like the lemony taste."

The cook, a portly, blue-dyed weaselmaid, beamed with joy at praise from the wildcat queen. "Thank you, yer majesty. I personally marinated it in lemon juice, I know you like lemons."

Kamataya smiled, revealing her yellowed, grimy teeth, evidence of her love for lemons. Asides from her teeth, she was quite pretty, with sleek red hair, pointed ears, and elegant robe. She finished off the carcass and tossed it aside.

"Yer majesty!" called a blue male ferret that burst through the double doors.

"Fallear! You must knock on the door!"

Ignoring her request, the ferret began talking. "Twoscore of the lower order, still vermin though, have arrived in a ship. They bring word of your brother."

"Oh, Zarvil! I wonder if he got my letter?" Zarvil was the fiercer of the two, though the younger one. He decided to take over the south, knowing that unless his sister died, he would never be a ruler.

"Well, should I bring their leader in?" asked Fallear.

"Yes, yes. Go!"

The ferret nodded, and came back with a tall and muscled dark-furred weasel.

"My name is Captain Grimfur, Queen, Kamataya." The queen nodded happily. "I am from the south. I served under the great wolverine warlord, Griv Beastcrusher."

"Ah, yes. I heard of him!"

"And you heard of the empire?"

Kamataya nodded.

"Griv was forced to submit to his rule. But he plans to take over the empire, and make it stronger. But he needs your help to do that."
The queen yawned. "And why should I? War is just so..."

"Your Majesty, I did not travel for two seasons to be denied. And, you'll want to side with me."

Kamataya snorted. "Why?"

"Because, your Majesty. Your brother was killed by the emperor, Vafír Silvertung."

Kamataya gaped. The wildcat tried to move her mouth, but no words came. Then her face twisted. Her face became unlike anything Virrayna or Fallear had ever seen on their pompous queen. The face became viciously evil, with cunning behind it. Her light red fur became ominously darker for some reason, and her eyes more wild. She walked across the room to her stain-glass window, and smashed it with her paw. Her mad eyes glared through it and she laughed.

"Do you hear me Vafír Silvertung? You will pay! YOU WILL PAY!"

Slave compound, near the south path

One thousand of Vafír's best hordebeasts had been handpicked for this. Rats, stoats, ferrets, weasels, feral cats. They marched through the south path. They passed a great slave compound, the largest of the thirteen, and the residents looked up.

"They're going to war," said an otter called Streampaw.

"Aye," said a hedgehog, then he shivered. He was not like the hedgehogs here, his kind were from the farther south, where there were deserts and savannas. He was shorter, more compact, and his ears larger, his quills shorter and lighter, and his fur was white, not brown. "We'll get some more compounds, I expect."

Streampaw groaned. "Terrible. If only somebody could defeat the army..."

A weasel, one that was against Vafír, named Bluenose, said, "Terrible, the fox is. I only knew one warrior that could ever defeat him in battle. A squirrel, who used to be my friend, called Tharius..."