And so, my little scouting operation having come to a close, I departed Redwall Abbey in high spirits. Little did I know... I was being followed...
Milo shivered, having forgotten to bring his jacket. He was very curious about why 'Lenny' was walking so far from the Abbey…... without his soap cart!
It was Slopgut's turn to be on guard duty tonight. He saluted smartly as Harlapple and a pair of other vermin passed by, before once more leaning against his spear to rest. It wasn't like anybeast was coming anyways. He snapped to attention at the sound of movement however, and stood up straight. "Who goes there?" he asked, politely, his pronounciation impecable. He raised his spear. "Present yourself at once, or else force me to come looking for you."
The harvest mouse toddled out of the darkness, a little bit scared. "D-Do you know where Lemmy went?"
Slopgut frowned. His first instinct was to demand, in his usual gruff way, 'who in Hellgates is Lemmy?'. But the horde he now resided in did not appreciate such vocabulary. "I do not know who you speak of."
Milo gave the large (to him) rat a cock-eyed look. "Lemmy the soap mouse." He produced one of the soaps from a little pack he had on his back and showed it to the rat.
Inwardly, Slopgut shuddered. A thousand horrible memories rushed through his mind. He pushed them aside and forced himself to remember his manners. "Ah- yes. We have. A lot of… those." He swallowed, flinching away from the harvest mouse brandishing such a dangerous thing so carelessly. "I-I'm afraid I don't know a Lemmy. Th-there are mice here, though. They have… soap."
Milo clapped his paws and jumped up and down "That's Lemmy!"
"Is that her name, then? I-I never asked you know. Only polite to refer to her as 'marm', 'madam', 'missus' and the like." He cleared his throat importantly, and straightened up. "Well then, if you are here to see her I feel it's only right that I escort you to her." He offered his meaty paw, realized after a brief pause that Milo could not reach it, and ducked down so that the harvest mouse could easily reach it.
Milo took it with enthusiasm. "Lemmy has a mommy?! I wanna meet her!"
Slopgut lifted the harvest mouse right off the ground. "Right this way then, sir."
Meanwhile back at Redwall Abbey, having not been kicked out of Redwall, Disibod was now asleep.
He was dreaming that he was back at home, his monastery, in one of the recreation rooms with a group of brothers. They were all friends of his, some of whom had died in the ship crash. As one, a particular Brother Linus, was dealing out the cards, Disibod sighed and looked out the window, in which he could clearly see his father's estate from the island.
"Ah, don't worry too much. Your father will come around eventually." Linus said.
An older one by the name of Ascpaw shook his head. "Too worldly, that one. Nothing like his humble father. Shame he left this world so early. You would have loved him, Brother Disibod."
Disibod turned to his table again. "So I've been told."
Linus hit him on the shoulder "Cheer up, we are your family now."
Disibod gave a faint smile to his friends.
As the first game ended and Linus began to reshuffle, it was suddenly dark and stormy outside.
A cloaked (what Disi assumed) monk came in. A chair was empty directly across from the dormouse. The stranger, without removing his hood asked "May I have a seat?"
Linus replied "Why yes, Brother, would you like to join us in the next game."
The stranger asked again "Can I sit here?"
Disibod realized that the Brother was addressing him. Odd he thought. He hesitated slightly "Yes… Why do you need my permission?"
The stranger sat down and removed the hood.
Disibod almost jumped in shock: it was the mouse who had helped him find Redwall only a night ago. The dream spell broke for him and he became conscious that he was dreaming. He remembered that his beloved Linus was dead. The others strangely continued a conversation at the table.
"Why must you ruin my happiness? I was having a lovely dream." Disibod said.
To Disibod's surprise, it was Linus who next spoke "I told him that it would be better to do it now. You wouldn't want to know what he had planned before." Linus giggled then took a swig of his beer.
Suddenly it was only the monk-who-Disibod-couldn't-remember-the-name-of, Linus, and Disibod at the table. Disibod stood up and slammed his fist on the table and pointed at Linus "Do you think that this is funny? Imitating my deceased friend!?"
"Disibod, calm down. It is me your ol' friend Linus. Just for my amusement, and to PROVE that it is me, I will tell of something that only I would know. When you first were a novitiate, you had accidentally drank a whole pint of hard ale thinking that it was rainwater that got leaves in it. Why you like to drink that gross gutter water is a mystery to me. Anyways…. You had become so inebriated that you stripped down to nothing and…"
Disibod cut him off "Okay, you can stop. That is proof enough. Please don't finish, or I will never hear the end of it."
The cloaked monk perked up "Now I want to know the rest of that story."
"Maybe later." Linus replied.
Linus held his beloved friend's paw. "Dear Disibod, my troubled friend. Before I let my new friend speak, I will tell you why I am here. First, I wanted to tell you that I am not in hell. So that's good. Second is that I wanted to console you. The third and final reason was to assure you that the monk over here… his name is Martin by the way, try to store that in your long-term memory, so he doesn't have to repeat himself… has your best interest in mind. That being said, I want you to give him your undivided attention." He motioned over to Martin to speak.
Martin suddenly was in the chair next to Disibod. He began to whisper to Disibod, who replied with nods and mhhmms. Then, Martin produced a slip of parchment from beneath his cloak and explained what was on it. Then he spoke out loud. "You or someone else will find that in the Great Hall in the morning. If you can't remember that last part, I will remind you."
Disibod leaned back in his chair, processing the information he was just given.
Linus shook his head "Did you have to whisper? We literally are the only ones here. In Disibod's head."
Martin shrugged.
Linus took another drink of his pretend beer (to make it more comfortably for his friend) "Thanks for saving Disi's fuzzy tail yesterday. I bet if you had a coin for every time you had to save somebest's tail you would have enough to purchase a fancy new coffin. Don't worry, Disi can help with the instillation. He likes crawling around in crypts."
Disibod lifted his head at the sound of his name "hmm?"
"Linus, leave the poor kid alone, he had a lot to process… Though the coffin thing doesn't sound half bad…" Martin said.
"Also, Martin I should warn you that he is fond of bones and bringing home souvenirs."
"Oh, well then, never mind what I said before. The last thing I need is for him to give Barley all of my teeth for her collection…"
Disibod was silently taking note of this….
After a bit, Disibod was done processing. "Well, I will see what I can do in the morning, Martin."
"Thank you, Disibod. We will talk again, but not as soon as our last two encounters." Martin said before disappearing. Linus gave his friend a hug. "I will always be with you, holler if you need anything."
"Is it dawn?" Disibod asked.
"Yes, now you have a lot of work to do. Remember, missionaries try to do everything with love, so try not to tease anyone too harshly." Linus replied.
"But what if I tease them harshly…. With love?" Disibod asked. The last thing he heard before waking to the morning light was the laughter of his friend.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Harl awoke his horde early the next morning. Cleaned up and once more wearing a cloak with his tail-spike attached, he had rid himself of every last reminder of Lenny. He was in a very good mood, and walked with an enviable spring in his step. It must have been infectious, for the assembled vermin were grinning and smiling, eagerly anticipating the warlord's speech.
It had not been an easy few weeks. Harl had had to instill in them cleanliness, discipline, intellect, strength and above all the ability to fight. He had succeeded in all regards except most of them, but that was something he could live with. They were not the strongest of hordes, but the promise of food and safety had bolstered their ranks with a few more local vermin. So the mouse hoped what they lacked in strength they made up for in numbers.
And what they lacked in numbers, knowledge more than made up for. And Harlapple now had a lot of that.
"They all fell for it!" he half-declared, half-cackled at the excited beasts before him. "Every! Single! One! You should have seen their faces when Dung and Durge popped out of those barrels! You should have seen their faces when I declared myself warlord of the greatest band of vermin Mossflower had ever seen!"
Obviously this was propaganda and flattery, but the idiots bought it and cheered all the same.
"We have done well these past few weeks. Very well! Redwall lies defenseless! There is no warrior protecting them, no ghost haunting it's halls and no badgers! Only a disliked abbot, who I'm sure will make the wise decision and surrender without a fight." Harlapple waited for another cheer to pass before continuing. "And if he does not… well then, we shall just have to take Redwall the old fashioned way." He grinned. "Nothing but infants and cowards lie behind those walls. Those magic walls. So magic they had to be renovated not so long ago! We have the numbers. We have the weapons. Most of all. We have knowledge." He tapped the side of his head, and his horde nodded in agreement. "Slagar the Cruel got his band of slavers into Redwall by trickery. They posed as a travelling circus pantomime. I did the same. Sold a bunch of soap, in exchange for some supplies." He gestured at three barrels stuffed with some of Friar Clovis' finest samples. "My time there was well-spent. Yiss, yiss. A blabbering vole told me everything about that abbey. Every detail. The history behind every nook and cranny." Harlapple cackled wickedly. "They have no idea what they were dealing with!"
The horde's deafening cheer was interrupted by a gasp of horror. Harlapple's eyes bulged out of their sockets as his mother came hurtling through the crowd towards him. "Oh no! Sweet Appleplums, you're hurt!"
"It is only a scratch mother!" the mouse insisted, trying to squirm out of her iron grip. "It makes me look more like a-"
"Hush now, don't worry. Mummy will make it better my sweet Apple Pie." She tugged at his unscratched cheek with affection. Harl glared bloody murder at the few vermin who weren't well practiced at stiffling their giggles.
"As I was saying," Harlapple went on through gritted teeth, while his mother busied herself scrubbing at a gash Disibod and his mackerel had made on his cheek. "We have made excellent progress and Redwall is now in our grasp. Lackfoot will hand out the nice foods," he gestured at the barrels of Redwall fare. "You will eat and then continue working on our camp's fortifications."
Aside from a grueling training regime Harl had administered on the vermin (which was not as grueling as he would have liked for his mother insisted on all his critiscism being constructive), Harl had had his horde prepare pickets and fences around the camp's perimeter. Both to make escape a more daunting task for the slaves of his encampment (evidently this hadn't worked on the dormouse, and Harl would have to have a word with the slavemaster later on about this) and also in case the local woodlanders decided to pre-emptively strike.
"You should have come straight to me," Mama Apple tut-tutted, now grooming the fur between his lowered ears.
"Dismissed!" Harlapple finished.
"Harl dear, what did I tell you about feathers." The elderly mouse held up one of the frayed feathers of the Kew-Kew costume.
The young warlord let his shoulders sag in defeat. "Mother, for the last time I am not allergic to birds."
A short while later...
"And I do not want to see you move a milimetre out of that bed, do you understand?"
"Yes mother," Harlapple sighed, as he was half-helped, half-shoved into his nightgown.
"You need plenty of rest. How could you lead a horde if you fall ill? So reckless! I will make a nice warm soup for you." She promised, draping a blanket around him and placing a pink and fluffy nightcap upon his head. "Sleep well." A wet kiss to the forehead, and she was gone.
The warlord sighed again, stifling a yawn. Truth be told he could use the rest. Between the dibbuns, and Taif, and pretending to be a clumsy fool he had really exhausted himself in the abbey.
Her presence hadn't helped...
His mother returned a short while later, holding a tray of piping hot soup and other treats. Her own cooking. And far superior, in Harl's incredibly biased opinion, to anything he'd eaten in the abbey.
"Is something bothering you sweetie?" she asked, placing the tray on the bedside table and settling herself down on the nearby rocking chair.
"I saw Snowbelle again mum." He tugged at his whiskers. "She's at the abbey. You remember… my friend?"
"Of course I remember Snow!" the old mouse smiled fondly. "How is she?"
"Well, I avoided her mostly. She knew me, I thought, so I had to be careful around her. I-it wasn't hard. I had the mask on most of the time. She seemed… different. Not like how I remember her." He scratched the back of his ear. "Sadder. Quieter. I made her smile though." The phrase brought no happy memories. He frowned, fiddling with a pattern on the blanket. "Or well, Lenny did anyways. She wasn't at all happy to see me."
"You are here to conquer her home," his mother reminded him gently.
"Yes, yes, I know…" He sighed and picked up a pastry, tearing it apart with far more force than necessary. "Nobeast likes the warlord."
"Except his mother." She reminded, firmly.
Yes mother. But you don't have much of a choice in that, do you?
"No needs to be dramatic darling. As a matter of fact, one of your little friends from the abbey followed you here!"
Harl's ears shot up in surprise. "Little… friend?" he asked, confused. He didn't remember having any of those!
"They arrived just last night. Small, excitable little thing!" she smiled fondly. "Bit of a bladder problem, too, but none of us are perfect."
Milo hopped over to Harls bed, smiling with his 'new' jumper on "Good morning Lemmy!"
The new jumper was one of Harl's old ones. The warlord had no idea why his mother had kept them all… It fit surprisingly snug around the harvest mouse. "Milo… I already told you. There isn't a Lenny." Milo was a pathetic slob of an infant… but he was also a Redwaller. Which made him a valuable hostage… Harlapple grinned. "Here I go by Harl."
"Oh, ok!" the harvest mouse said. "You have soo many friends! They are all so nice and so is your mommy!"
Harlapple shuddered. "They're my minions not my friends."
"Harl," his mother scolded, giving him a warning look.
Milo suddenly had the face of a learned philosopher "But they are not small."
In his mind, minions were supposed to be small.
"No. They're not. They're big and strong and mean. The way they should be. Dumb muscle, that's what they-"
"Harlapple!" the mouse mother warned. "You will speak of your horde with respect."
Harlapple deflated. "They're very loyal and obedient minions," he mumbled.
Milo shook a finger at him "I can't believe you haven't been forced to eat vegtibles for not listening to your mommy."
"I have eaten more vegetables than you've had hot dinners," Harlapple muttered. He shrugged. "We don't eat many vegetables anyways. Mostly stuff we can forage. Or steal. Horde life is not for the feeble."
He had a look of shock on his face "You don't eat vegtibles here?"
"Not in any quantity. Hard to find them wild. They also don't keep well. Not good for creatures always on the move." Harl tapped the side of his head knowingly.
Milo turned to Harl's mother "May I please stay here for a while, Mrs. Apple?" Milo asked, eyes filled with a hopeful sparkle.
"Of course you can!" both mice said in unison, for different reasons of course.
"You can stay as long as you like Milo." Harlapple smiled. "We do lots of fun things here, and there are a lot of nice beasts- my friends and minions that is- that you haven't met yet. Would you like a tour of the camp?"
"Yes please!" the little mouse could hardly contain his excitement. He paused "Where can I go pee?"
"There's a chamberpot outside the tent." Clearing his throat he adressed his mother. "I'm feeling much better after your medicine now. I hope you'll allow me to show our new guest around?"
"Of course dear." She smiled. "But you'll have to wear something warmer than that. There's a chill in the air and I don't want you catching a cold."
Donning a jumper of his own, which he wore underneath his bright red cloak, Harlapple stood at his full height and offered Milo his paw. The young harvest mouse took it happily, looking up to Harl with admiration.
"Now, my horde doesn't have a name yet seeing as we are fairly new to the business," Harlapple explained, walking at a slow pace to accomodate Milo's shorter legs. "But we are in a very advantageous position now. Soon the whole world will know of us."
"Wow the soap opera is bigger than I thought!" Milo exclaimed.
Harlapple grit his teeth, coming to a momentary halt. How does that infuriating fox teach you? You're slower than a snail… "Yeeees. The Soap Opera. Well, somebeast has to make all the soap… the props… write the scripts…"
"Just one beast?" he asked.
"Yes," Harlapple scowled, watching a trio of rats wrestling with a knot while their blades lay unused besides them. "I do all the work here."
"Why don't they just cut it?" Milo whispered, watching the rats.
Not the slowest here… "They'll figure it out… eventually." Harlapple continued moving through the camp, occasionally introducing some of the vermin by name.
"That there is Lackfoot. As you can see, he is missing a foot."
"Ferret over there stinks worse than you do. Complete idiot. Just walking builds up a sweat on him."
"You've already met Dung, he's my bodyguard."
There was not much in the camp to keep a dibbun enthralled, and Harl had to make a detour past the slave encampments. But with wit, showmanship and quick-thinking Harlapple made the whole place seem a colourful adventureland. A slice of heaven on earth. Milo was not a hard beast to impress, but the warlord made sure to go the extra mile. After all, it cost him nothing to put a hostage at ease.
Footnote: Another Bonus Update for you my Dear Readers Who I Appreciate Very Very Much! When I said I was ramping up production I meant it :P
For those wondering why part of the title is in French- FFN has a Chapter Name size limit for reasons...