"Wha-that's not a milit'ry uniform!" Clawhide surmised indignantly. Shadow had been waiting outside the gates of Ashburn for the better part of the afternoon and was just itching to kill somebody, anybody. The weasel in front of him was making it very difficult for the stoat mercenary to stay his hand.

"No." Shadow said simply, "No, 'cause we ain't regulars. We be mercen'ries, Pritates fer pay. We don wear ah uniform, unlike yew pompous prats, an' instead ah marchin' around like eye sores fer all ter see, we know how ter lay low n' live off the land. Think yew could learn ah thing or two from us… Major" Shadow turned to his men, "Ain't thah righ' boys!" He was answered with hooting and cheering. Shadow would have fun knocking the Major down few pegs and putting the weasel where he belonged, something which he anticipated would be pretty amusing. Shadow smirked, the poor beast had no idea what he was in for.

"I was told I was getting a relief force, not some rag-tag rabble, that's likely never held a formation in their lives!" Clawhide pushed past the stoat mercenary, his uniformed regulars following in suit. They were certainly well ordered, even Shadow could admit that, but in a forest battle where confusion and chaos were bound to take control, they would be slaughtered.

"I think yew'll find, our fighting style is rather… efficient." Shadow said cooly, stalking after the Major who turned around swiftly, a retort on the tip of his tongue, only to find that the stoat wasn't there.

"Hello, Major," he whispered into the weasel's ear.

"Jeez-Vulpez, wha-what are ya- how did!?" Clawhide practically jumped out of his armor, spinning around and stumbling back as he reached for his sword which wasn't in its scabbard. "Lookin' fer this?" taunted Shadow, spinning the sword around. The mercenaries erupted in laughter, some of the Major's own men having to stifle giggles.

Clawhide straightened up, regaining his composer, "C-Captain, yew will gimme back my sidearm at once or-or I will have yew arrested for treason!" Both regulars and mercenaries abruptly ceased their laughing.

Shadow didn't even flinch at the threat and, in fact, as far as threats went it was rather mild. "Oh yew will now?" Shadow mocked, "keep it, it ain't worthy o' ah true warrior, not lest this land-pirate!" Unceremoniously, he threw the sword at the weasel's feet. Major Clawhide, held up his paw as a signal for his men to relax, before waving someone over to fetch his sword from the ground. .

"We're heading back to Molestown!" Clawhide ordered. "Shadow! Take your rangers and scout ahead. I will lead the main column and the rest of the mercenary force. Sergeant Killsnot, take the rear of the column. Form up!" With that, the soldiers scrambled to form up, at least the regulars did. The mercenaries mostly just laughed and snickered, not even trying to hide their merriment from the weasel officer.

As Shadow and his men headed into the woods beyond, the sound of clanking armor and the steady pace of boots marching faded behind them. Into the forest they went.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The halls in the Keep of Ashburn lay empty save for a few evening patrols and some officers who were begrudgingly kept awake due to their duties. One such officer being Colonel Redfang who, having finished all other duties, was now headed for the basement level of the keep where the prisoners were kept. It was a cold and damp place, filled with mold and feces. The fox couldn't think of a place he'd avoided more than the dungeons of Ashburn and to think that the prisoners lived there. He almost felt sick to his stomach. The mousemaid from a couple of days ago had been left to rot in the cells before Redfang found the patience to deal with her. She most-likely had no useful information, but there was no harm in making sure of it. Walking up to her cell, he was disappointed to find it empty. For a second he thought she'd somehow managed to escape. That is until Roguefur approached him with a sly grin, "Lookin' fer someone?" He teased.

"Cut the spit Roguefur, where's my prisoner?" Redfang was in no mood for games. One second longer in those prisons than need be, was a second too long.

Oh, yur prisoner was she?" Roguefur now became more serious, "Last time I checked I was a rank above yew and yew were a dead beast walkin'"

"Where- is- she." Redfang enunciated through gritted teeth.

"'round back, though yew may find her less than cooperative in her current state."

Redfang pushed past the rat and stormed into the interrogation room to a sight so brutal it even made the fox Corporal a little uneasy. The mouse maid was hardly a beast anymore, but more of a sack of meat hanging on hooks. She had been skinned, (though he wasn't sure if alive or not) and it seemed hacked to pieces as well. A table at the side displayed the sharp instruments which had been used, crusted with blood, and laden with rust.

Roguefur walked up from behind him, wearing a wide grin. "Did ya at least get anything useful outta her?" Redfang demanded.

"Nothin' which concerns yew Fang. After all… yew'll be dead soon anyway." With that the rat bellowed out in merriment and left Redfang seething in his own annoyance and frustration. He doubted that the mouse had given anything useful up anyways, but that wasn't the point. The point was to ostracise him from the rest of the officers. The rat did nothing but make his life harder and the fox loathed him for it. No matter what happened it seemed as if the entire world was working against him. He'd felt that way for years and it was beginning to take its toll. It wouldn't be so bad if it were just Roguefur, but no one appreciated his sacrifices. And no one treated him with the respect that he deserved!

"Arrogant prats!" In a burst of anger Redfang ran his paws across the table, scattering all the knives, spikes and rusty razors across the floor.

Redfang averted his gaze from the brutal site and, with a deep breath, he walked out of the bloody room and made his way over to the stairs leading out of the dungeons. A sort of uneasy feeling came over the fox as he walked down the length of the dungeons. He could have sworn they were watching him, judging him. For a brief moment, he considered punishing them for it. Nothin' like afew lashes t' scrub bold notions from a woodlander's mind. He decided it wasn't worth the effort.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They'd been drilling all day, it was a repetitive sequence of events. Left. Right. Left. Forward and Right again. Over and over, they'd marched around the courtyard. For a while Clay'd thought they were pretty good at the whole routine, but as the day wore on, it seemed that with tiredness and soreness came a worse performance. Of course, this enraged Sergeant Stumptooth and the entire regiment was doing push ups as a result. To the weasel's relief, the drilling ended just around the same time as the sun slipped out of view. Some of the veterans watched them from the wall tops or the soldier's barracks, laughing and joking. Clay hated them for it. All they had to do was sit there and look menacing, while the recruits were the ones working their tails off.

Clay, exhausted, stumbled over to his mates who were sitting by a small fire right outside the recruit barracks. "Mudnose grabbed ya some vittles, but Wruddy ate em all." Gritter said as his brother approached.

Clay scowled at the searat who was smiling guiltily. As the clay colored weasel turned around to make his way to the cooks tent, he ran into Skad and Frydraft. "Ya just can't stop runnin' in t' me can ya?" Skad said with a cheeky smile. "'Ere, we wen' an' brought ya some vikkles," Frydraft said.

Clay eyed them in annoyance. He didn't particularly like the two, but one couldn't have too many friends in a place like this. "Come fellow travelers, please, share our hearth," He said with sarcastic drama, presenting the sad excuse for a fire. After getting accustomed to their new company, the six beasts sat in silence for a time, eating their hard earned food.

"I got wind of somethin' interestin'" Frydraft said conspiritorally. "I 'ear… we might be moving out soon. Marchin' t'... Redwall…"

Skad snorted, "Don't mind my ferret friend, he's delusional." Frydraft frowned at the weasel.

Wruddy dipped his hard tack in his soup and sucked on it, clearly in deep thought, "Ya prolly mis'eard Frydraft matey. Them's the ones who'll be marchin' t' Redwall," The sea rat indicated the boisterous vermin soldiers across the courtyard, drinking around their own fire.

"'Sides, ya 'eard the sergeant. We can't even make it 'cross the courtyard, they'll sooner send us back 'ome than march us t' Redwall." Gritter said with a wistful smile.

"Don't be foolish. Think 'bout it fer a second. Why'd in hells-gates would they be wastin' valuable vittles on us ifin they weren't goin' t' use us. This ain't a charity. One way or another, we'll see blood." Mudnose said nonchalantly as he bit into a wedge of moldy cheese. "This cheese is really somethin' else, I'll say! Ya want any Clay?"

Clay scowled at Mudnose. The damned ferret never did learn how to shut his mouth. Gritter was looking more defeated than ever. And Wruddy was now struggling to control his shaking paws as the thought of battle gripped the searat. Frydraft wore his cocky smile as usual and Skad seemed to be thinking about something else.

Between Clay's scowl and the expressions on Wruddy and Gritter, Mudnose seemed to realize his slip up. The ferret cleared his throat awkwardly, sparing an apologetic look towards Clay before attempting to salvage the situation. "Ahh, what do I know anyways. I'm jus' a ferret recruit way o'er 'is 'ead. Wruddy's prolly right, they wouldn't send recruits t' Redwall. Ha! Imagine that!"

Wruddy, held his shaking paws to the flames, warming them up, "W-why would they send Mattfur and Rafter out then? Ifin they're not plannin' on usin' us?" Everyone was grave for a moment, they rarely spoke of Mattfur and Rafter after their disappearance. Every day that had passed, everyone had just assumed they'd be back the following day, and so on so forth, until it was silently determined they'd never be coming back.

"Rafter and Mattfur were pretty advanced fer recruits. Some of the best trackers they 'ad, even better than some of the veterans." Clay said simply. "I wouldn't worry 'bout anything Wruddy, even if we do march, we'll have o'er a thousand hordesbeasts surrounding us an' a score of officers. Wait till the woodlanders catch sight of Stumptooth, they'd be mad not t' turn tail an' run."

That seemed to garner a chuckle out of them, a chuckle that grew into laughter which grew into hysterical laughter. Frydraft patted Mudnose on the shoulder, "ya know what, I wouldn't even mind if we marched. It'd be an adventure! An adventure for glory an' gold!"

"Damn straight" Mudnose said, returning the pat. "Yew know what's in order?"

Everyone smiled mischievously. They all knew what he meant, save for maybe Gritter.

"Seaweed grog!" Wruddy cried happily.

The seaweed grog was stored in the storehouse which was strictly off limits. Skad brushed some dry leaves aside and used a stick to draw a map in the dirt. Fort Ashburn was actually rather simply laid out. Everything was connected to the courtyard in the center. The soldiers' barracks and recruit barracks flanked both sides of the gate, and directly opposite the gate, across the courtyard, was the high keep where the officers slept. The storehouse and slave's quarters were next to the soldiers' barracks and across from that was the armory. "The entrance to the storehouse is always guarded, day and night, so we'll 'ave t' find another way in," Skad said.

"Wait, what if we distract the guards?" Mudnose inquired, "Get em to leave the door."

Skad shook his head, "It's prolly locked. After the woodlanders burned the hay they upped the soundness, no doubt some officer got tortured fer that one, it's not going to be easy gettin' in there."

Wruddy thought for a moment, "I could try an' make some. As a searat I'd learned, but it's been a wee bit."

"What if we dig under the storehouse?" Gritter asked enthusiastically, clearly proud of the suggestion.

"What d' we look like t' yew? moles?" Skad snarled.

Frydraft scoffed, "Lemme guess who'll be doin' the majority of the diggin'" He paused in mock thought, "Oh! Prolly not yew. Besides, we'd be diggin fer weeks before we finished, even if the tunnel was small."

"What if we don't get it from the storehouse?" Clay asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his features.

"What'd ya mean?" Skad asked, intrigued.

"Well, there's bound t' be some grog in the soldier's barracks, it's practically what they live on. All we gotta do is steal it from there."

Skad nodded in utter amazement at the proposition, "An' unlike the storeroom, the barracks 'as windows!

Well I'll be! Clay, yur a genius!" Mudnose shouted, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. It was going to be a good night!