Undecided Allegiance
(A/N- Yes, the name to this story was changed. For some reason, the last one reminded me of some lifetime movie, and that's not quite what I'm going for so I decided that it must be more relevant to the story. I think that this one is better. The other one...I dunno...just sounded icky. I also changed Bethany's name to Naturi, I liked that name better. Thanks, Acoustical Ferret, for reviewing this. I know you're not going to be around much, but that's cool. The history book thing was really what I was going for in the last chapter. Oh, and Naturi knows exactly what happened to her father, not so much why. You must have misunderstood that, reviewer whom I have forgotten your name.)
Chapter Two: Resurfacing of an Old Threat
"I would be better off without those colonies...if I had Redwall," a cold voice suggested. The source of the voice was Joseph Krushchev, warlord of a vermin army that was nestled deep within Mossflower.
The one he spoke to was a young fox that went by the name of Delafor. She was a seer, but not one's typical seer. She did not wear those radical clothes or that large, gaudy jewelry. She just looked like another member of the horde, nothing special. She listened intently to Krushchev's words and thought upon them.
"Redwall...so many have tried to invade that place...no one was successful," Delafor muttered apprehensively, afraid of what Joseph might say to this comment.
He sighed. "There's a first for everything...well...tell me what you see..." he ordered, his voice soft yet deliberate.
Delafor shut her eyes. Someone so sinister, she found she could speak to so easily. Delafor loved being a seer, if only she were a better one, she thought. It was only so often that she would see something, and she found herself confused at interpreting shells, as her mother could always do so well. There was something about her and Joseph's strategical talks that she loved. She couldn't say what it was, maybe just the atmosphere.
She paused a moment before speaking, shuffling nervously. "I...don't see anything, my lord."
Krushchev nodded slowly and took a sip of wine. "You don't see anything? I should have known better...after all, its rare when you get a vision," he said, taunting her. "After all, you were never as good a seer as your mother was."
Delafor shuddered, stung at the truth in his words. "Forgive me, lord."
"Fetch my captains," he ordered. "I'll speak of this matter to them instead."
******
"You have to feel sorry for her sometimes. She never really...talks to anyone," Melanie, a young otter stated as she stared off at the young ferret, who was seated by herself next to one of the trees in the orchard.
Brendin, her younger brother, laughed. "I don't! I've tried talking to her plenty...she's just anti-social or something. Do you think it has anything to do with...well...you know, being what she is?" he asked with an innocent smile.
Melanie shrugged. "I can't say. No matter what she was I would think her strange. I dunno. Complicated beast you got there."
Naturi could hear them talking. She didn't really mind, after all, she was only there to live. She picked a clump of grass and twisted it, each blade intertwined in the mess. She tossed it aside and sighed. She picked up the journal that was sitting by her side and wrote.
"I was too young to know better, perhaps. I feel like, by living here, that I am betraying what I am. I'm out of place, though the Redwallers seem to want to treat me as one of them. They're kind. I just don't know if that's what I want anymore. There's something about the sinister ways of my old vermin horde that I feel I should be a part of. I don't even know why," she finished and read it. Lately, Maiken and his ways had been occupying her thoughts. She tried to decide whether or not, possibly, the execution was just, no matter who Marko had left behind. She tried many times to put herself in Maiken's place, but she still came up undecisive.
"Hey, Beth," a voice behind her rang out.
She jumped and closed the journal hastily. She turned to see the Skipper of otters and sighed. "Sorry, sir."
Skipper shrugged. "Whatcha writing in there?" he asked curiously.
Naturi hesitated, then laughed apprehensively. "Oh...nothing really..."
Skipper leaned against the tree. "Oh? Well, you sure write a lot. Maybe someday you'll become the recorder," he said pleasantly.
Naturi smiled faintly and stood. "I dunno about that, sir."
Skipper patted her shoulder hardily, he hated that old habit of hers. Any authority figure she addressed was "sir." It made him feel rather tyrannical to be called such a thing.
"Let's go on to lunch, eh?" he offered kindly, a broad smile upon his face.
Naturi looked to the ground. "I'm...not hungry...go on without me..."
Skipper nodded slowly. "Alright, but you sure don't know what you're missing!"
Naturi smiled. "Just not hungry...sir," she said, her smile faded as quickly as it had come.
Skipper nodded again. "Well, I'll talk to you later. Have a nice day, now," he said as he turned and began walking away.
Naturi stared after him as he walked away, heart racing. Hopefully he had not seen what she had written down. She had a feeling that he had, the way he sounded so interested in what she was writing, but perhaps he was just being kind. She slid down to her prior position next to the tree and began writing again.
"It seems that the Redwallers are eager to befriend me. That's great, but I don't want friends. I don't know what I want. This life should be so great to me, but I find myself disappointed. Perhaps its because of the traitor's blood that I have running through me. I don't know how much longer I can stay here." She finished and shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree.
She envisioned Maiken's face, the time that they had locked eyes, right before he killed her father. Was it so much enjoyment as it was necessary? She began to question this. He did, after all, save her life. Then again, he let them kill her mother, who was innocent. Another thing that did not make sense was the fact that he criticized her mother for marrying Marko, when he had been "stupid" enough to appoint Marko a captain, let alone trusting him with such a vital resource. Using that logic, Maiken himself should have been ripped apart by that mob.
Naturi just didn't understand.
******
A sinister smile played across Joseph Krushchev's lips as he watched his captains enter his tent. He loved to see these large, sinewy captains of his fear him. Such fine soldiers and they were below him, inferior. Power was a wonderful thing.
"Sit down," he ordered sternly, yet in a sort of merry way.
Krushchev found that he could not resist playing favorites with this group of three. He was conspicuous about it, too. This way, they would all struggle to become the favored one, therefore, increasing the quality of their work.
The favorite of the week was Cobain, a ferret like the warlord himself. He wasn't quite as big and tough as the others, but Joseph could definitely see a light in his eyes. He was a quick thinker, sly yet loyal. He was solemn and impassive. He did not have a family either, which was the great thing about him. Nothing that would effect his way of thinking. He had a clear head, never clouded by emotions. He was almost perfect. He was plain looking, no tattoos or piercings. He wore a navy blue tunic and big black boots. His preferred weapon was a double-bladed battle axe in which he wielded well.
Krushchev nodded to him as he sat down.
The next one to enter the tent was a large marlfox, Kneadon, one of a kind. Marlfoxes were thought to be extinct after the perish of the High King Mokkan (real references, cool, huh?). Joseph was almost sure that Kneadon was smarter and tougher than the high king he had heard of, and was secretly proud that Kneadon was his to do as he said. One thing that Joseph noticed was how quiet he was, however. It was as if he was either scared to voice his thoughts or just careless. Either way, it was sort of a downfall. The great thing was, as was with Cobain, he did not have a family and could never have a family. Pleasing the warlord would be his main focus.
The last to come in the door was a young pine marten. Apprehensive, he was. He had just recently been appointed captain of archers and had not been in Joseph's presence often. He had striking blue eyes, more of a deep blue. They were always big and wide, as if he were always afraid or surprised. It was rather pleasant and refreshing to Joseph to see someone that was...well...easy on the eyes. Not in a romantic way, but Joseph didn't have to wince every time he came in the room or have to shield his eyes from the light cast off all the gold jewelry. Bluedusk was his name, and Joseph thought it fit him well. The bad thing about him was that the females of the horde were constantly tempted by him. Emotions always clogged up a soldier's head, therefore, Bluedusk was the least favorite.
However, to limit the emotional clogging, Joseph had installed a strict "no-love" policy with his captains. They would be removed from their post if they were ever seen courting with a female.
Most of his soldiers, unlike him, were gaudy looking, with many tattoos and piercings, Joseph could not stand that. His captains were all plain looking, and though he did not judge them on looks, he had so many to choose from that he would knock down a skilled swordsman with an earring instead of the skilled swordsman without it. It was just the way the warlord was.
The three were seated, looking at him expectedly. Joseph smiled a phony smile. "Well, how is everybody today?" he asked pleasantly.
"Fine," said Cobain, noticing that the other two were unresponsive.
Joseph nodded. "We have a lot to talk about today," he said, still wearing that phony beam.
The three just gazed at him. He had a way of making the atmosphere. If he wanted them to be tense, they were tense. If he wanted them to be comfortable, they were comfortable. Today, he made the atmosphere, strangely enough, tense. When this group of people were under tense conditions, they were prone to have better ideas. Pressure seemed to always do this to them.
"Well, I have something I need to address," Joseph began. "We've spoken many times of permanant settlement, but the problem has always been the same; nowhere to go. Well, let's just say we have a place to go. That place, Redwall," he finished, studying the expressions on his captain's faces.
"Redwall? I'm assuming that's the red building just east of here..." Cobain inquired.
Joseph nodded. "That it is, and I find it suiting. Wouldn't you say, Cobain?" he asked in that phony, sweet voice he often used.
Cobain nodded. "I would love to live there," he said eagerly.
Joseph smiled at him, now possessing a tinge of menace. "Well, we must look at the mechanics of it all before we make a decision. That place can only possibly fit around two-hundred in it. You can tell just by looking at it. We outnumber them by a hundred or so. This is just a rough estimation, but I think we have the advantage. Not to mention, only half of their population could pass as soldiers. About three fourths of ours, on the other hand, are our army. Definitely an advantage," Joseph explained, still wearing that provocative smile.
The captains nodded to eachother.
Joseph's smile faded. "Don't think that your opinion is the deciding matter in this. My mind is already made up. This meeting was called for more...informative reasons. We have to make plans. We're going to talk over everything ahead of time. This place has never been invaded. It has to be perfect! We're gonna pull an all nighter, freinds!" he said in mock playfullness, his impending smile returning.
The three captains looked to eachother in bafflement. This would surely be a long night.
******
Naturi was knieling, knieling before someone she didn't know. She was on a stage, before a rowdy, cheering audience. She was bound and flanked by two guards, why, she was not certain.
The one who stood before her was a large, brawny otter who she slightly recognized, but could not totally recall who it was.
"Traitor!" the otter shouted. "You shall die for your impudence!"
Naturi was shocked. Traitor...what could that mean? She had written things, but she certainly hadn't *done* anything. She heard someone screaming in the crowd, and when she looked to see what it was, she saw a young female ferret, crying. Standing at her side was an unknown ferret, a little older than her, with a sinister look upon his place. His paw was placed at her shoulder, and he watched Naturi intently as she prepared for this execution.
The otter brought down a large, yet wonderous sword upon her neck. She screamed.
******
The next thing she knew, she was lying in her bed sweating, surrounded by many, including Skipper. As she looked at him, she realized that he was the one who brought down the sword upon her neck.
"Why were you screaming, dear?" Skipper asked kindly.
Naturi just stared at him, wide eyed. "You..." she murmured, confused.
Skipper looked around to the rest of the party, perplexed. "Me?"
Naturi realized that it was just a dream, and decided not to pursue any accusations. She sighed. "Nothing..."
"Are you okay?" Melanie inquired, smiling.
Naturi nodded. "Just a dream...I'm sorry I woke you..."
The Redwallers looked to eachother, said their goodnights, and departed. Naturi sat up, rubbing her neck. What could that dream have meant? She didn't know. Why Skipper? Why was he the one executing her? Who was that one in the audience, with his paw on...her...shoulder? So many questions that remained unanswered.
(A/N- How was that for a chapter? That's really long for me! I like writing dreams. Don't ask me why, I just do. That stuff in the dream was all relevent to something, just like Jacques does his dream sequences. Its your job to figure it out!)
(A/N- Yes, the name to this story was changed. For some reason, the last one reminded me of some lifetime movie, and that's not quite what I'm going for so I decided that it must be more relevant to the story. I think that this one is better. The other one...I dunno...just sounded icky. I also changed Bethany's name to Naturi, I liked that name better. Thanks, Acoustical Ferret, for reviewing this. I know you're not going to be around much, but that's cool. The history book thing was really what I was going for in the last chapter. Oh, and Naturi knows exactly what happened to her father, not so much why. You must have misunderstood that, reviewer whom I have forgotten your name.)
Chapter Two: Resurfacing of an Old Threat
"I would be better off without those colonies...if I had Redwall," a cold voice suggested. The source of the voice was Joseph Krushchev, warlord of a vermin army that was nestled deep within Mossflower.
The one he spoke to was a young fox that went by the name of Delafor. She was a seer, but not one's typical seer. She did not wear those radical clothes or that large, gaudy jewelry. She just looked like another member of the horde, nothing special. She listened intently to Krushchev's words and thought upon them.
"Redwall...so many have tried to invade that place...no one was successful," Delafor muttered apprehensively, afraid of what Joseph might say to this comment.
He sighed. "There's a first for everything...well...tell me what you see..." he ordered, his voice soft yet deliberate.
Delafor shut her eyes. Someone so sinister, she found she could speak to so easily. Delafor loved being a seer, if only she were a better one, she thought. It was only so often that she would see something, and she found herself confused at interpreting shells, as her mother could always do so well. There was something about her and Joseph's strategical talks that she loved. She couldn't say what it was, maybe just the atmosphere.
She paused a moment before speaking, shuffling nervously. "I...don't see anything, my lord."
Krushchev nodded slowly and took a sip of wine. "You don't see anything? I should have known better...after all, its rare when you get a vision," he said, taunting her. "After all, you were never as good a seer as your mother was."
Delafor shuddered, stung at the truth in his words. "Forgive me, lord."
"Fetch my captains," he ordered. "I'll speak of this matter to them instead."
******
"You have to feel sorry for her sometimes. She never really...talks to anyone," Melanie, a young otter stated as she stared off at the young ferret, who was seated by herself next to one of the trees in the orchard.
Brendin, her younger brother, laughed. "I don't! I've tried talking to her plenty...she's just anti-social or something. Do you think it has anything to do with...well...you know, being what she is?" he asked with an innocent smile.
Melanie shrugged. "I can't say. No matter what she was I would think her strange. I dunno. Complicated beast you got there."
Naturi could hear them talking. She didn't really mind, after all, she was only there to live. She picked a clump of grass and twisted it, each blade intertwined in the mess. She tossed it aside and sighed. She picked up the journal that was sitting by her side and wrote.
"I was too young to know better, perhaps. I feel like, by living here, that I am betraying what I am. I'm out of place, though the Redwallers seem to want to treat me as one of them. They're kind. I just don't know if that's what I want anymore. There's something about the sinister ways of my old vermin horde that I feel I should be a part of. I don't even know why," she finished and read it. Lately, Maiken and his ways had been occupying her thoughts. She tried to decide whether or not, possibly, the execution was just, no matter who Marko had left behind. She tried many times to put herself in Maiken's place, but she still came up undecisive.
"Hey, Beth," a voice behind her rang out.
She jumped and closed the journal hastily. She turned to see the Skipper of otters and sighed. "Sorry, sir."
Skipper shrugged. "Whatcha writing in there?" he asked curiously.
Naturi hesitated, then laughed apprehensively. "Oh...nothing really..."
Skipper leaned against the tree. "Oh? Well, you sure write a lot. Maybe someday you'll become the recorder," he said pleasantly.
Naturi smiled faintly and stood. "I dunno about that, sir."
Skipper patted her shoulder hardily, he hated that old habit of hers. Any authority figure she addressed was "sir." It made him feel rather tyrannical to be called such a thing.
"Let's go on to lunch, eh?" he offered kindly, a broad smile upon his face.
Naturi looked to the ground. "I'm...not hungry...go on without me..."
Skipper nodded slowly. "Alright, but you sure don't know what you're missing!"
Naturi smiled. "Just not hungry...sir," she said, her smile faded as quickly as it had come.
Skipper nodded again. "Well, I'll talk to you later. Have a nice day, now," he said as he turned and began walking away.
Naturi stared after him as he walked away, heart racing. Hopefully he had not seen what she had written down. She had a feeling that he had, the way he sounded so interested in what she was writing, but perhaps he was just being kind. She slid down to her prior position next to the tree and began writing again.
"It seems that the Redwallers are eager to befriend me. That's great, but I don't want friends. I don't know what I want. This life should be so great to me, but I find myself disappointed. Perhaps its because of the traitor's blood that I have running through me. I don't know how much longer I can stay here." She finished and shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree.
She envisioned Maiken's face, the time that they had locked eyes, right before he killed her father. Was it so much enjoyment as it was necessary? She began to question this. He did, after all, save her life. Then again, he let them kill her mother, who was innocent. Another thing that did not make sense was the fact that he criticized her mother for marrying Marko, when he had been "stupid" enough to appoint Marko a captain, let alone trusting him with such a vital resource. Using that logic, Maiken himself should have been ripped apart by that mob.
Naturi just didn't understand.
******
A sinister smile played across Joseph Krushchev's lips as he watched his captains enter his tent. He loved to see these large, sinewy captains of his fear him. Such fine soldiers and they were below him, inferior. Power was a wonderful thing.
"Sit down," he ordered sternly, yet in a sort of merry way.
Krushchev found that he could not resist playing favorites with this group of three. He was conspicuous about it, too. This way, they would all struggle to become the favored one, therefore, increasing the quality of their work.
The favorite of the week was Cobain, a ferret like the warlord himself. He wasn't quite as big and tough as the others, but Joseph could definitely see a light in his eyes. He was a quick thinker, sly yet loyal. He was solemn and impassive. He did not have a family either, which was the great thing about him. Nothing that would effect his way of thinking. He had a clear head, never clouded by emotions. He was almost perfect. He was plain looking, no tattoos or piercings. He wore a navy blue tunic and big black boots. His preferred weapon was a double-bladed battle axe in which he wielded well.
Krushchev nodded to him as he sat down.
The next one to enter the tent was a large marlfox, Kneadon, one of a kind. Marlfoxes were thought to be extinct after the perish of the High King Mokkan (real references, cool, huh?). Joseph was almost sure that Kneadon was smarter and tougher than the high king he had heard of, and was secretly proud that Kneadon was his to do as he said. One thing that Joseph noticed was how quiet he was, however. It was as if he was either scared to voice his thoughts or just careless. Either way, it was sort of a downfall. The great thing was, as was with Cobain, he did not have a family and could never have a family. Pleasing the warlord would be his main focus.
The last to come in the door was a young pine marten. Apprehensive, he was. He had just recently been appointed captain of archers and had not been in Joseph's presence often. He had striking blue eyes, more of a deep blue. They were always big and wide, as if he were always afraid or surprised. It was rather pleasant and refreshing to Joseph to see someone that was...well...easy on the eyes. Not in a romantic way, but Joseph didn't have to wince every time he came in the room or have to shield his eyes from the light cast off all the gold jewelry. Bluedusk was his name, and Joseph thought it fit him well. The bad thing about him was that the females of the horde were constantly tempted by him. Emotions always clogged up a soldier's head, therefore, Bluedusk was the least favorite.
However, to limit the emotional clogging, Joseph had installed a strict "no-love" policy with his captains. They would be removed from their post if they were ever seen courting with a female.
Most of his soldiers, unlike him, were gaudy looking, with many tattoos and piercings, Joseph could not stand that. His captains were all plain looking, and though he did not judge them on looks, he had so many to choose from that he would knock down a skilled swordsman with an earring instead of the skilled swordsman without it. It was just the way the warlord was.
The three were seated, looking at him expectedly. Joseph smiled a phony smile. "Well, how is everybody today?" he asked pleasantly.
"Fine," said Cobain, noticing that the other two were unresponsive.
Joseph nodded. "We have a lot to talk about today," he said, still wearing that phony beam.
The three just gazed at him. He had a way of making the atmosphere. If he wanted them to be tense, they were tense. If he wanted them to be comfortable, they were comfortable. Today, he made the atmosphere, strangely enough, tense. When this group of people were under tense conditions, they were prone to have better ideas. Pressure seemed to always do this to them.
"Well, I have something I need to address," Joseph began. "We've spoken many times of permanant settlement, but the problem has always been the same; nowhere to go. Well, let's just say we have a place to go. That place, Redwall," he finished, studying the expressions on his captain's faces.
"Redwall? I'm assuming that's the red building just east of here..." Cobain inquired.
Joseph nodded. "That it is, and I find it suiting. Wouldn't you say, Cobain?" he asked in that phony, sweet voice he often used.
Cobain nodded. "I would love to live there," he said eagerly.
Joseph smiled at him, now possessing a tinge of menace. "Well, we must look at the mechanics of it all before we make a decision. That place can only possibly fit around two-hundred in it. You can tell just by looking at it. We outnumber them by a hundred or so. This is just a rough estimation, but I think we have the advantage. Not to mention, only half of their population could pass as soldiers. About three fourths of ours, on the other hand, are our army. Definitely an advantage," Joseph explained, still wearing that provocative smile.
The captains nodded to eachother.
Joseph's smile faded. "Don't think that your opinion is the deciding matter in this. My mind is already made up. This meeting was called for more...informative reasons. We have to make plans. We're going to talk over everything ahead of time. This place has never been invaded. It has to be perfect! We're gonna pull an all nighter, freinds!" he said in mock playfullness, his impending smile returning.
The three captains looked to eachother in bafflement. This would surely be a long night.
******
Naturi was knieling, knieling before someone she didn't know. She was on a stage, before a rowdy, cheering audience. She was bound and flanked by two guards, why, she was not certain.
The one who stood before her was a large, brawny otter who she slightly recognized, but could not totally recall who it was.
"Traitor!" the otter shouted. "You shall die for your impudence!"
Naturi was shocked. Traitor...what could that mean? She had written things, but she certainly hadn't *done* anything. She heard someone screaming in the crowd, and when she looked to see what it was, she saw a young female ferret, crying. Standing at her side was an unknown ferret, a little older than her, with a sinister look upon his place. His paw was placed at her shoulder, and he watched Naturi intently as she prepared for this execution.
The otter brought down a large, yet wonderous sword upon her neck. She screamed.
******
The next thing she knew, she was lying in her bed sweating, surrounded by many, including Skipper. As she looked at him, she realized that he was the one who brought down the sword upon her neck.
"Why were you screaming, dear?" Skipper asked kindly.
Naturi just stared at him, wide eyed. "You..." she murmured, confused.
Skipper looked around to the rest of the party, perplexed. "Me?"
Naturi realized that it was just a dream, and decided not to pursue any accusations. She sighed. "Nothing..."
"Are you okay?" Melanie inquired, smiling.
Naturi nodded. "Just a dream...I'm sorry I woke you..."
The Redwallers looked to eachother, said their goodnights, and departed. Naturi sat up, rubbing her neck. What could that dream have meant? She didn't know. Why Skipper? Why was he the one executing her? Who was that one in the audience, with his paw on...her...shoulder? So many questions that remained unanswered.
(A/N- How was that for a chapter? That's really long for me! I like writing dreams. Don't ask me why, I just do. That stuff in the dream was all relevent to something, just like Jacques does his dream sequences. Its your job to figure it out!)