Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall or the characters mentioned.
Walls, covered in blood. Parapets, slimed over with the life force of innocents. A building, conceived of the dreams and lives of fallen heroes.
Redwall, built of sacrifices.
Within it, creatures live in peace, surrounded by walls stained forever red with the lives of those who have come before. The mighty warriors who went down in tremendous battles, the innocents who rose up when they were needed, the young slaughtered so mercilessly, the old killed without thought as they feebly tried to fight back.
To enjoy peace, sacrifices must be made.
And so they were, before the Abbey even existed. Brave mice, noble badgers, perilous hares, strong otters, honest moles, honorable squirrels, and sensible hedgehogs all died for an ideal that their grandchildren wouldn't be around to see.
There were those sacrifices who faded into the mists of Time, and those who existed still in some creature's memory. A young mousemaid whose only crime was to love a Warrior, a cheerful otter whose will to do good led him right into the path of an arrow meant for a traitor wildcat, a Badger Lord who died to get the chance to take his enemy with him.
And then later there were more. A humble old mouse who ruled his Abbey with a just paw, a fat Friar who tried to save children, a fearless Sparra Queen who plunged headlong into a suicidal fight to save her friends.
The list goes on and on. A mousemaid, who searched for the Tears of All Oceans, hundreds of hares on a ridge far from home, an otter who wished to bathe his firstborn son in the river. A badger with blood red eyes that would never see again, an otter who had avoided the slavers' grasp for so long only to fall in battle, two old friends who had traveled so long that they could never just imagine laying down to die. And there was the old hare whose last wild, desperate charge had held the vermin away from entering the Abbey long enough for the warriors to arrive.
One by one, they stood for all that was good in the world, and one by one they all fell. No lasting peace comes without sacrifice. No good comes without the vanquishing of evil.
And yet life moves on, recovering from these losses and painting the way towards a better tomorrow. No one will ever forget those who died, nor what they stood for.
But Redwall is not only covered in the blood and dreams of heroes, but also in the vanquished darkness of evil, of the horde leaders, of the evil creatures whose desires to conquer and enslave would never come to pass. Sixclaw, Cluny, Slagar, Ironbeak, Damug Warfang, the Marlfoxes, Gruven, Kurda, Raga Bol, Gulo… so many threw armies at those red-stained walls and never lived to see the next season. Their names are forgotten except to use as a child's bedtime threat. "Eat all your vegetables or Cluny will get you!" "Off to bed with you right now or I'll tell Slagar!"
Their deeds are condemned, their crimes spit upon. They are nothing in the eyes of a building that has seen a million deaths, that is stained red from these lives.
Perhaps it is ironic that the original builders chose to create Redwall from sandstone. Did they know, did they guess how many would die for that peaceful ideal they upheld?
Dusty red sandstone may glow beautifully during a Midsummer's feast sunset, but was it really worth the price that was paid for that building to remain standing?
If one looks at the Dibbuns, who exist in a world where war is so far away, then they will know that the answer is a resounding, "Yes."