Colonel Redfang watched as the slaves went about their work. It'd been a long day, and he was looking forward to a nice comfortable bed, possibly some ale to wash down the stale bread that awaited him. The slaves looked so beaten, so tired, and sucked dry of any hope. What pain did they know? At least they're protected behind these walls. No slave is getting killed on patrols or dying to the arrow of a woodlander. One of the slaves, a mouse, was getting pushed around by a pair of weasels to which Redfang watched with a smirk. Every time he watched a slave getting their dues he couldn't help but feel the justice in it; the fact that they were getting a taste of the same harsh reality that vermin lived in their entire lives was satisfying, to say the least. Of course, some vermin didn't know when to quit and this was one such time. The two weasels were now laying on heavy kicks to her curled up form with no sign of stopping. With a sigh, Redfang stood up, inwardly wondering where Heartsbane was as it was his duty to watch the slaves, not Redfang's.
Just as he was preparing to call the weasels off, Lieutenant Roguefur called over to him, "Fang! I want yew in this briefing."
The fox snapped to attention and threw up a stiff salute, to which the Roguefur answered with a nod before walking towards the main keep of the fortress.
Not bothering to look back at the enslaved mousemaid, Redfang made after the rat lieutenant. Fort Ashburn was rather large, the largest established fortress a vermin horde had ever been able to hold, though he supposed this was no ordinary horde. The Stafgard Empire had only recently begun making its entrance into this continent. Up until now the Queen had set her ambitions on the islands around their home city, not daring to venture forth to the continent until recently. Redfang was given the 'great' privilege of being one of the few selected for the voyage to "Mossflower country" as they'd called it. Since arriving on this Vulpez forsaken continent, he'd lost over 20 beasts, one of them being another fellow fox who he'd become close companions with during the long and hard voyage over the great Western Sea.
Walking through the courtyard, Redfang passed by the two vermin guards who'd been hanged the day before for 'dereliction of duty' if he was recalling correctly. The poor bastards had the unfortunate fate of being the guards assigned to the storehouses the night the hay was burned. Redfang doubted there was anything they could've done differently, but they were hanged nonetheless, probably to serve as an example of sorts. Entering the keep, Redfang started making his way up the stairs and over to the war room. The keep was a large stone and wooden structure, that towered over the rest of the fort, reaching seven stories and containing a variety of functions. This was where the officers slept, ate, and drank. It was also home to some of the luckier slaves, the ones who got to cook in the kitchens and act as servants to the officers as opposed to hauling materials all day. There was also Commander Squourgemire's personal quarters within the structure of the keep. Scourgemire had been chosen by the Stafgard high command to lead the expedition into this continent. Redfang's room was located on the second floor, right next to the slave quarters and above the kitchens. Reaching the third floor, he turned the corner and entered the chamber, giving the guard a passing salute as he did so.
The door clicked behind him as he entered the chamber. He proceeded to walk up to the large dark wood table with a map sprawled across it. The map was of Mossflower country and the surrounding regions. It contained most of the large landmarks which many reconnaissance patrols had given their lives to discover. Fort Ashburn was situated near a lake, west of the Gorge of Foxes and east of the Badlands. Redwall and Salamastron were a far bit south as was Mossflower Woods. Most of the other officers in the room were lounging around, drinking ale and making small talk, mostly insults, dares, and threats which neither party took seriously. Commander Scourgemire and his lieutenant, Roguefur were likely finalizing key points for the meeting, as this was likely an important one. A lot had happened in the last few days and if gossip was anything to go by, the march south was happening sooner than expected. A squirrelmaid entered and quietly began making the rounds, bringing fresh cups of ale and refilling others with a large pitcher. It wasn't long before the Commander entered, and the room fell quiet. Scourgemire was a towering figure, a stoat with plenty of scars to prove his fighting years as a soldier. Personally, Redfang found the commander to be rather bull-headed, but he was the commander. Redfang's job was to follow, not question. He was good at following. The meeting began.
XXXXXXXX
Amber bowed timidly as the stoat warlord entered the room. He was clearly in an angry mood, but then again when wasn't he. Being the Commander's servant, she'd been on the receiving end of plenty of outbursts from the Commander. The most recent one had left her with a black eye and a swollen cheek. The past few weeks had been rough, she was snatched away from her parents, taken away from her home and all she knew, only to be made a slave. So many high ranking vermin officers in one place. All it would take was a good volley of arrows and everything would end, the horrors, the murder, and the slavery. Cut the head off of the snake, so to speak, and the rest of the body dies. They laugh, and banter, and drink ale which was stolen from hard-working beasts now, but one-day justice will be served. Amber stalked around the room, filling the cups of the officers who had gathered around the map table, inwardly eyeing them with hatred while putting on a timid, meek facade.
A short rat who she'd come to know as the Commander's second stepped forward. Lieutenant Roguefur twirled the wooden pointer stick as he walked around the map table, Critically inspecting the various officers and military commandants gathered around. It was the third meeting to take place this past week and the Commander was getting impatient with the speed of preparations.
"As Commander Scourgemire 'as stated, takin' this Red-Wall Abbey is of utmost importance. Seein' as Redwall's 'bout 20 leagues south of our position, traveling fer a few days will be necessary. But before we discuss that, I want a general update, Charclaw, what news."
Clearing his throat and straightening up, a small rat, began, "Durgefur's patrol's still yet to arrive. They were due yesterday, but patrols arrivin' late's nothin' new. Crosstooth and Skalrag… well… ya know what befell em."
"I didn't promote ya t' sergeant so ya could grovel on 'bout dead beasts Charclaw. Get another scoutin' party organized, I wanna know what the hares are up t'. Heartsbane, what's the construction report?"
Heartsbane, a burly fox, stepped forward and saluted smartly, "Four slaves perished in the night, two escaped and a score more seem t' have fallen ill. Construction on the second outer perimeter wall is well underway. Recruit barracks 'as been finished." Heartsbane paused for a second. "I need more rations sur. I need more vikkles, me slaves are starvin' and without more food they won't last much longer."
Roguefur slammed a clenched fist on the table. "We're rather low on food as of late if ya hadn't noticed, an' after the woodlanders burned up the hay... Yur job is t' get the work done, so get it done Heartsbane or I'll find me another beast who can! Flog em harder ifin ya need t'."
Heartsbane scowled before throwing a salute and stepping back into the ranks. "Stumptooth, report."
Stumptooth stepped forward and gave a stiff salute. "They're not ready. We've hardly begun training swords not t' mention crossbows, bows, an' pikes. They'll make fools of themselves in battle."
"Stumptooth ya 'ave one job. One job! Get em ready by the week's end or you'll be the newest training prop. Got it?"
Stumptooth shook his head wearily, "They won't be ready by weeks end, whether ya kill me or not."
Roguefur balled his fists in rage, "Well then they'll just 'ave t' learn the good ol' way, won't they. The way we all had t' learn it. By doin' it. Whether or not they're ready, we're movin' out."
Stumptooth scowled, "My beasts are hardly eatin' a meal a day."
Roguefur blew his nose in a handkerchief, ignoring the sergeant before continuing.
The drone of the meeting drew on for what felt like an eternity. As Amber was passing behind the officers, she spotted a letter on the table. Even from behind the officers she could tell it contained valuable information as two of them were having a side discussion regarding it, speaking in low whispers. Promising herself that she would remember it, she moved on.
"More wine!" A chubby weasel shouted over to her. Amber quickly hid her look of disdain and walked around the table towards the weasel. There, there it is. As she was pouring the ale into the weasel's cup, she slipped two letters into her other hand, she wasn't sure which was the one they'd been discussing.
"Ay!" The weasel snarled, snatching the squirrel's arm, the one that was holding the pitcher. "I said wine, not ale, what're ya deaf."
"S-sorry." She stammered, hiding the letters behind her with her other hand. Panic began to overtake her. What if he saw the letter? They would kill me.
"Leave us bushtail. I think we can manage to pour our own drink." Cutter said, dismissing the squirrelmail, "Now can we get back t' the discussion at hand Furnhide."
The weasel grinned and held up his newly filled cup, "By all means Colonel."
Not wasting a moment, she retreated from the meeting room and made her way over to the kitchens where she collapsed against the wall, gulping air and trying desperately to relax. Her heart was beating so hard, she was surprised the vermin officers had not heard it. Aukalid, a mouse cook, and her friend ran over to her and hugged her. She didn't ask any questions, she just hugged her. Amber hugged back and they stayed that way for a long time, only separating at the sound of a vermin guard approaching. Aukalid, grabbed her friend's hand and led her to the back of the kitchens which were currently vacant. Breakfast had already been served, and lunch had been canceled due to a lack of provisions, so the back of the kitchens were empty.
"Are you okay? Amber look at me. Are you okay?"
Amber fought back tears, but they came anyway and the two of them embraced again. "I thought they'd catch me Auk!" She sobbed into her friend's shoulder. "I thought they'd kill me."
"Shhh, hush now. You're safe, I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."
Amber only answered with a nod. She wanted to believe her friend, she really did, but what could one mousemaid do against an entire empire.
"What's this?" her friend asked, spotting the letters.
Amber smiled weakly, it was a small victory, but a dibbun like excitement gripped her. It was like she was opening a present and couldn't wait to see the contents of it. Unfolding the first one, she looked over it. It was a list of sorts. She began reading, softly muttering the contents as though mystified.
Attrition Report: Week 3
Division strength: 1389
Infantry: 756
Missile: 273
Pike: 360
Glory to the Empire,
Colonel Cutter
The other one was more of a letter, though it wasn't very long. Amber began to read this one aloud as well, her friend looking over her shoulder.
Warning. Arctic wolves spotted. 30 leagues northwest of Ashburn. Near coast.
Glory to the Empire,
Admiral Bradclaw
XXXXXXXX
Redfang eyed the squirrel maid as she left the meeting room. Was that my imagination? He could have sworn, she'd slipped a letter from under that weasel's nose.
"Colonel Cutter, the plan for Redwall," Roguefur demanded.
The ferret stepped forward and considered the map. "Well…" he began with a sigh, "they'll know we're comin' thats fer sure. As soon as we step out from behind these walls, we'll be picked 'part. We need to create a diversion; someone'll have to draw the attention away from the main column the question is... who"
The room fell silent with anticipation and anxiety. They all knew what that meant. Whoever was picked for the diversion would likely meet their end.
"Someone will lead some 200 beasts down the road leading directly to Redwall and hopefully draw any woodlander ambushes away from the main force which will leave two days after. Scourgemire will lead the bulk of our forces, 1000 beasts strong, southeast through the forest thicks before looping 'round and reaching Redwall here." Cutter traced the path with a stick. "If we make good time, we'll reach Redwall in three days' time." Colonel Cutter finished.
"Any volunteers?" Roguefur asked with a wicked smirk. He knew just as well that whoever went was signing their own death warrant, which made it all the better. "Redfang… Yew seem oddly quiet." Roguefur teased.
The fox remained quiet, silently daring the rat to do it. Redfang and Roguefur had never been on the best of terms, but to condemn him to death seemed a tad extreme.
"What do yew say t' that, fox?" Roguefur asked in a mock tone.
Annoyed with Redfangs silence, Roguefur decided to make what was initially meant to be a threat, into reality. "Yew know what, I think yew will be leading the diversion. Good luck with that Redfang!"
Redfang's jaw dropped, "T-that's suicide!" Redfang murmured.
"Not suicide." Roguefur said coolly, "yew'll have weapons, armor, an' a determination to live. No doubt yew'll suffer losses… many losses, but mainly the old, the recruits, and such." Roguefur smirked again. It was a slight towards the fox's age. A veteran, getting up in his years, was bound to know better and he did know better, but Redfang couldn't do anything, he was outranked and no other beast was going to volunteer.
He was speechless, he never thought a lack of friends amongst the higher-ups would lead to his death. He was clearly wrong. Looking around at the various officers, he realized how bare of friends he truly was. The only one who he could possibly look to was a sergeant named Dragskull, but he was only a sergeant.
Field Commander Scourgemire, who hadn't said a word, was looking out the window of the high keep, down onto the courtyard where the recruits were sparing. Scourgemire could hardly contain his kit like excitement for the upcoming conflict. The stoat Commander filled his lungs with the cool fall air. The last time he'd seen real bloodshed was years ago. Taking one last deep breath, he turned around and faced his officers, "How're preparations comin' Roguefur?" He inquired coolly.
The rat lieutenant turned around with a timid bow. "Quite well yur honors. We'll be prepared to leave in 4 days' time."
"Calltail, send word back to the western Isles… Tell them that by winter's eve Redwall will be ours," Scourgemire said. The tiny bespectacled weasel gave a deep bow before making off to do as commanded. With that, the Commander dismissed the meeting and the officers departed from the conference room. Scourgemire turned back to the window, watching the beasts below sparing and mentally preparing for the impending war.
