A/N: There are spoilers for Like Shattered Glass in this story.

The sea breeze felt cool and soothing against Davrag's ruined features. Driven by the night air, the briny scent and moisture-tinged breeze was a great comfort, a reminder of happier and better times before he had accepted that damned hunt with Jald Nightson.

No, that was not accurate at all. Davrag had known better times but happy times? No, he had never truly been happy, he knew with a trace of bitter irony represented in a twisting of slashed lips.

Happiness meant loved one, trusted friends, a family one could go home to, a wife whose arms one could seek comfort in. No, a relentless pursuit of the title of 'The Best,' driven by ambition, greed and selfishness to fight and murder others by any means at his disposal; that way of living was a way of denying his own mortality and weakness of the spirit. How could he have lived that way for so long…how?

But now, it was too late to change. Davrag Joris's blades had claimed many lives: the strong, the weak, the old and the sick, the young…anybeast who stood in his way for even a fraction of a second for his title. He would never die like his parents had, for if you cannot save yourself, you are weak. That was the Juska law his mother had instilled within him. He would be strong.

At Kolma, he had hoped to gain at title and in that relentless pursuit, he had been defeated. It tore at him still, the crimson pawed ermine with eyes of amber. Eroket Nightblade had bested him. It was a bitter truth, but the facts were the facts.

In defeat, the relentless thirst to drink from the chalice of victory was not gone, but it was diminished. He no longer wanted that title so much as he NEEDED a final battle with that young ermine.

Why? He could ask himself a dozen times but find no answer, no respite. Davrag, for all his evils and cruelties was first and foremost a warrior as was Eroket and warriors could only express themselves, find respite in the clash of steel, the heat of battle. In a final battle with the ermine, Davrag could discover what he had been living for, if he was wrong or right his entire life. More than anything else in the world, Davrag wanted to bring his curved blades against Eroket's schianova and decide once and for all if his once central sense of justice was right or wrong. In that battle and no other would Davrag Joris find the answer he so desperately sought.

With a light sigh, the black stoat leaned back, turning his head to stare out the window, to the gentle flow of the sea and the argent reflection of the celestial, lunar form that hung full in the skies.

Perhaps he was getting a bit poetic, he thought with a light chuckle. He let a paw drift to the stoat who lay in the bed-he had voluntarily relinquished it for the night. The paw ran across Arredon's cheek with surprising tenderness. The young stoat's beautiful green eyes were closed and his face had taken on a placidity that could be reflected by the ebony sea, a peace that could only be achieved by such violent warriors in the state of sleep. It was a peace that none of them could know in life and few could know in death.

Yet, Arredon could still know that peace…the niggling voice at the back of his mind whispered. He is young; he has remained in this world, this hell for you and you alone. He loves you like his own father…

Davrag didn't deserve it.

A look of brief sadness flitted over the black stoat's face and he withdrew his paw lest he clench the young stoat's shoulder and awaken him. "Oh, Arredon," He whispered, "You're such a kind child…you shouldn't have ever picked up a sword…you should never have become like me." A fang bit into a lower lip, "I saw my parents die…my mother, she met my father when he ventured to the southern coast. She was Juska, a warrior of a clan. They returned together to Calishan, where I was born. They taught me not only to fight, but philosophies of the clan; the clan that was destroyed by badgers. I vowed to myself when they died that I would never suffer their fate, that I would be strong and never be defeated." His eyes closed and his voice came as a whisper, "But I made myself as vile as any vermin in order to achieve this…and then I met you…you were so young when I found you, so innocent…I was your savior, to you I was something that was like a hero. But...I never deserved that. I never deserved your affection…" His teeth greet tightly and the amber eyes glistened with odd moisture. It was the salt from the sea stinging his eyes. It had to be.

"I instilled in you my ideals, but you never embraced them, you never lost your heart. So many times you have shown mercy, so many times you have helped others…you only kill for me." A look of pain appeared on the stoat's ravaged features and he replied, "This was never the life for you, but I made it such…but you were never my tool, never a weapon...Arredon Toroth…you have been my only friend, my only solace now. Forgive me…no matter the outcome, if I live or die…I want you to live and escape what I could not. Though you may never hear these words, I hope that a merciful fate allows you a chance: don't become like me, it's too far below you. When I am burning in Hellgates, I want you to Dark Forest." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Become your own creature and not mine. That is all I want."

"How touching." A voice replied coldly and Davrag's gaze drew instantly to the doorway and the amber eyes narrowed. Though he had never before seen this beast, he knew him instantly: Kirathal Frostclaw.

"I heard only the last few bits there, but still: touching." The arctic fox's arms were folded over his chest, sapphire eyes studying the former killer. "I never knew how far one of us could fall, Davrag Joris."

"You here to insult me or kill me, Kirathal Frostclaw?" Davrag's voice instantly regained its cold edge.

Kirathal Frostclaw looked to Arredon's sleeping form and back to Davrag. "Meet me in the hall way, I'm here to talk to you."

Davrag rose, donning his black cloak and followed the fox into the hall. "So, you're the famous Kirathal Frostclaw, the one they call as 'The Demon of the North.' Rumors say you were trained with Jald Nightson and Aleran Nightblade…other rumors say you're dead.

"Close," Kirathal acquiesced with a light smirk and a gleam in his eyes. "And I've never really liked that title. You, on the other paw are Davrag Joris, of no title now worth mentioning. You took the job, you failed the job and your defeat is plain."

Davrag took the comment in stride, nodding calmly once, taking scant notice of how strange it was that he did not grow enraged to the insult. But there was no venom in Kirathal's statement, he merely spoke the truth. "I was bested by Eroket Nightblade, who it is said you have bested. These are the facts. However, Eroket Nightblade is not dead, I have heard, contrary to what others may believe: This is also a fact."

Kirathal laughed lightly, "Very, very good, Joris. You're correct."

"You want to fight him. Just as I do."

"Correct," Kirathal nodded again, "You are an accurate beast, so I suppose I'll save you the effort of another question: it is in my nature to want more and more challenges and fights, just as it is in yours. I have no desire to hold the title of 'The best,' but if it comes with being able to crush my foes, I'll wear it proudly. With this young ermine, I saw potential, as I'm sure you did at one point. I want to fight Eroket Nightblade at his best, I want him to improve."

"Strange that you send your elite fighters after him."

"Well, if he can't beat them, then there's no point in fighting him myself." Kirathal smiled again lightly and shrugged, "It's your philosophy, eh? Strong, live, weak, die. I have nothing to worry about, because I am strong. Now, if Eroket is strong, he'll earn the right to fight me. If he is weak, he'll die and I'll live with my disappointment and seek out the next challenge."

Davrag smirked lightly, folding his arms and leans back against the wall. "And what's your goal? Why work for scum like Geras Iridanis?"

"Well, he's a means to an end. As you are aware of, Geras has been steadily increasing his territory and it has come to conflict with other syndicates and groups."
"I know," Davrag waved a paw, "I helped him take quite a few bits of the Nameless Clan's territory."

Kirathal nodded. "Geras wants nothing less than to-"

"Be head of all crime and vice in this entire region," Davrag smirked lightly and nodded. Kirathal chuckled lightly.

"You're a sharp one indeed, Joris. I find myself liking you, despite the 'failure' aspect of your character. So, here's my little plan: When crime rules this place, beasts' trust in governments deteriorates, wars are inevitable…combine that with other aspects of our plans and," Kirathal smiled charmingly, but the light in his eyes burned bright, "Anarchy. Perpetual unending war. Nobeast will know who struck the first blow and it will continue."

Davrag's gasp was barely audible and he shook his head. "You are insane."

"War can do that to the mind. I thought you would understand. What is the chief rule of our code, Davrag Joris? What is the number one assassin and soldier rule?"

It came from his mind and tongue easily and he replies softly, reciting perfectly: "We kill, but we do not choose our targets."

"Ah, but you have broken this rule…why should we be forced to adhere to an archaic code that cripples us? I have seen soldiers, seen their land, their homes, their very dignity sold to the highest bidder. Peace is an illusion, peace is a place where we throw down our weapons and hope our enemies don't slit our poor unguarded throats. Well, beasts like you and I make peace, so beasts like you and I have the right to decide the fate of this world as we have done before, but of our own will. I want this world to be one of anarchy and chaos where we are never useless, where we are held in honor. Davrag Joris, I'll ask you once: Will you become a soldier of this chaos and help to aid our goals? You may have the title of Strongest in this chaos…we can even say you won it." Kirathal Frostclaw's mouth turned up into another smirk, "I want you, despite your defeat…"

The title of the Strongest, his fondest desire…being offered by the beast who may very well have been the strongest. His once fondest dream was in front of his face: A year ago, he'd have taken it instantly…but now…

"I decline." His voice was mechanical and toneless."

Kirathal's eyes searched his own, as if asking him to explain. Explain Davrag did: "I want one thing. This is the one thing I will aid you in: Eroket Nightblade. One final fight with him is my desire. Use me as another measuring stick."

"A loser like you?" Kirathal's voice was scornful. "The failure asks to fight his better?"

Davrag nodded again lightly. "Allow this loser the chance and he shall aid your cause. I want one last fight with him on equal terms."

"So," Kirathal's voice was mocking, "Throw everything away just for a good fight?"
"No. But, think of this: Are you afraid to let him fight me? If you want to see him better, see him cut through a miserable failure with no hesitation…"

This caught Kirathal off guard and he clearly considered it. A small grin crossed his lips. "What you say…may have merit. Well, we'll have to see, hm?"

Davrag walked back into his room. Kirathal Frostclaw was a dangerous creature, he had discovered. Davrag had not manipulated the fox, he suddenly realized: Kirath had played upon his desire.

Davrag didn't know how he was going to ever come out of this alive…

----

Mossflower hadn't changed much, Jald Nightson noted. The afternoon sun streamed through the trees, soaking into the grass. He couldn't help but notice that the emerald, light-soaked vegetation was the same shade as his own eyes.

The ermine and the ferret had moved practically nonstop to Mossflower wood for a very particular reason: Their employers had to hear about their failure.

There was no danger in reporting it, not to their lives and especially not with the danger involved to all beasts in the underworld at the moment: the danger that was brought about by Geras Iridanis's very existence.

Eroket was humming an old travel song, carrying a supply pack with little trouble-they had plenty still, thankfully. Jald was silent, taking only the time to hack a stray branch out of his path.

"We're getting close…" The ferret muttered to himself, eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun.

"Mossflower wood," Eroket muttered lightly, looking to Jald. "It's not as lifelike as I thought…"

"We're far north in it. Redwall Abbey's down south and the beasts who live here are down that way too…besides, with the presences here, we've got the whole stretch to ourselves…"

Ero shrugged lightly. The two had been walking for days nonstop, their plan first to find their employers in the meeting place and then head North to Meridian where they could seek refuge in the Academy, now run by High Master Morik Ferin and Boneflower Windlass-Jald had noticed that Eroket had taken the latter news with little emotion. The slight pain has passed by now: Eroket and Boneflower were still friends and that was how Eroket had almost always thought of her. Their final companion, Cadion, had returned to his village with the sweet knowledge of Davrag Joris's death.

Jald tapped his sword against his shoulder calmly and looked around, frowning. "We're getting close to the glade."

Eroket sighed. "Couldn't they just have made this more convenient?"

"They're the only ones keeping the group alive at the moment. Crimson Tears took most of the rest…Kirathal'll follow us here, too and it's best we face him on our own terms."

"Point seen," Eroket nodded, gripping his sword tightly. On the few occasions they stopped walking Eroket had trained relentlessly, pushing his body more and more. Jald was privately very impressed by Eroket's progress and determination.

The ermine and the ferret's walking continued for hours more before a slight movement in the trees alerted Eroket.

"Jald…" He flicked his head up lightly, metallic rasp of a drawn schianova audible.

"Stay your blade, mercenary!" An authoritative voice called suddenly. A squirrel was standing on a branch with a bow drawn, dressed in camouflage. Eroket sheathed his sword calmly and raised his paw up.

"We're here to report in…"

The squirrel removed a small whistle from around his neck and gave three quick notes. In about five more minutes, the place was swarming with at least ten beasts of various species, but they all wore the same colors and uniforms.

"Eroket Nightblade and Jald Nightson," The leader, a tall fox replied calmly. The two mercenaries nodded calmly.

Jald replied evenly, "The mission in Calishan was a failure…the heads will want to know of this."

There was a bout of murmuring among the other beasts and the fox frowned lightly. "There are innocents living to the south of here and we cannot afford any danger now. We'll take you to the hideout and you can tell your story there, mercenaries.

"Good," Jald replied with a light nod, sheathing his own sword. "We need more supplies and-"

"We have those and bedding for you," The fox replied calmly. "They aren't the best in the world, but I think you can make do. The heads have been in hiding now that we can't make a strike at Iridanis. He won't leave Calishan again." The fox frowned, "I don't think we can get another chance, Jald…"

Jald shook his head calmly, "We'll get another. Right now, we have information your leaders have to hear."

The fox nodded and made a few signals to his beasts. They fell in calmly as a single procession, moving south, deeper into Mossflower Wood.

The hideout of Eroket and Jald's employers was a large oak tree that had been hollowed out and settled in the case of any emergencies, such as this point in time.

Eroket's brow furrowed lightly and his lips pursed. He knew this entire area was under the control of what was once the most powerful crime syndicate in Mossflower: The Nameless Clan.

The place had been saved for just such an emergency before the previous head had come to power. In normal times, it would never have been necessary, but these were far from normal times.

Geras Iridanis had made his first play against the Nameless Clan's fringe territories and has successfully acquired them. The Nameless Clan had been crippled recently by the death of its new leader and key officers had been assassinated quickly. The surviving officers had gone into hiding, doing all they could against the expanding might of Crimson Tears, but with the assassination of their leader and the occupation of a friendly garrison thanks to the Juskadin tribes, the once mighty clan was shorthanded at the moment.

Their interests and Jald and Eroket's had intersected. When Geras was vulnerable, Eroket and Jald had gone to assassinate him and leave Crimson Tears leaderless so that the Nameless Clan could capitalize on the situation. Little did they know, Geras Iridanis had been far from vulnerable.

Eroket sighed lightly as he and Jald entered the tree, trying to act calm. The thing was rather large, with one main room: a large table with three seats, all seats occupied.

Khorda Renos, a rat warrior had been a valued fighter of the Clan, one of the leaders of the personal guard of the head. Merrith Falis the ferret had been a close advisor to the late Tulley and the late and unlamented Odhran, the leader before Tulley. The last of the collective was a fox known as Edrin Namas who had handled many affairs in Mossflower and beyond.

In normal times, they may have fought over the leadership position, but now self preservation was first and foremost and only by working together did they have a chance of standing against Crimson Tears and Geras Iridanis's ambitions.

"Geras Iridanis lives," Jald Nightson replies, remaining standing and facing the three heads calmly.

"We know…" Edrin Namas replies with a light sigh, the fox leaning back calmly, "And we live still, thankfully, though only to the kindness of the woodlanders in the area. It took a while with that nasty business down south to assure them out intentions were far from ignoble."

"Down south?" Eroket queried, a frown forming on his face. "Last we heard, Deltrada Garrison was gearing up for war against the Juska."

"We know…helping them was one of the worst decisions we ever made," Khorda Reno replied. The rat was not given to excess worrying, but rather delivered the honest truth and took thing as they came. "Their Taggerung Hardin had Tulley murdered by the accursed Lunegast…Deltrada was wiped out to the last badger. General Wade was murdered in a little bout of treachery during negotiations."

Jald and Eroket's mouths dropped open, both unable to contain their surprise. Such short time it seemed had past and so much had happened…

"The child army?" Eroket gritted his teeth lightly. Truth be told, the ermine mercenary would have been just as happy murdering General Wade Stormsail as he would have been murdering Geras Iridanis.

"Freed…to all our relief," Khorda continued calmly, leaning back in his seat. "More things happened: You two are out of a job for one."

Two blank looks later, Falis took over the conversation; "Eclipse has been destroyed. Carno was killed by the Taggerung for killing the Taggerung's second in command."

Jald shook his head, replying with icy deliberation, "I'm just glad Carno's dead, even if we didn't get to finish him…and the Juskadin? Is Redwall rubble by now? Is Hardin planning to mobilize against other areas?"

"Hardin Zann Taggerung is dead as well. He was bested by Redwall's warrior who is also dead: poisoned by a last move from Hardin Taggerung. But enough on this…to the point: we heard you have something important to tell us after the failure?"

Eroket was the one who spoke up, slowly and deliberately he replied, "The Ice Wolves have joined with Geras Iridanis. It was thanks to their presence that our attack failed."

There was silence and then Edrin replied, "It seems this has gotten more dangerous…"

"They caught us by surprise and escaped," Eroket replied quickly. "We removed ourselves from the confusion in order to report in and reevaluate the situation."

Edrin nodded slowly and replied, "The spy within Crimson Tears the Iridian otters planted has reported that Geras Iridanis is dealing with Dukat Nidas the Wavelord now…Nidas is apparently going to aid him in this takeover. We have made bargains with the Iridians and we have a mutual understanding at the moment, but if Nidas brings his fleet here, then there will be no more Nameless Clan, there will be no more Iridians and there will be nothing but Crimson Tears. You two may very well be the last hope we have left. I ask you this: Can you defeat the Ice wolves and kill Geras Iridanis?"

Eroket and Jald exchanged looks, neither needing to voice their concerns. There was much to consider: To even consider stopping Geras may have been madness, but both had been through too much in the Death Watch war, both had seen too many crimes brought about by Crimson Tears to stop now. Eroket had once found it impossible to hate the Iridian otters: They had been tricked by the Death Watch just as the Calpathions had. He didn't particularly like them, but he wouldn't go out of his way to kill one. Once the two Calpathions, Jald Nightson the Manticore and Eroket Nightblade, Kalis Deiran's Legacy, have been rivals, even enemies, but now? Between Eroket Nightblade and Jald Nightson there was understanding, friendship and brotherhood. Both saw the answer in one another's eyes and they made their decision as one.

"We'll be your trump card." Eroket Nightblade replied for both of them.

Nobeast in the room could have known of the quintet drawing steadily closer from the northwest…nor could they have known that the events of the next day would change this power play completely.