Odious little man! thought Reverend Peppy Hare, as he crossed the village square, tipping his hat to two ladies as they passed. It was sickening to think of soldiers garrisoning as Bravenshire. They would tear up the roads into mud, fill his church with infantry. Oh, the officers were all right; they were, after all, men of rank; but he knew a soldier's education did not necessarily make a decent man.

Corporal Toad stood by the carriage, speaking to a young woman enthusiastically. They had all leapt upon him as soon as he'd arrived; this young toad in splendid red uniform. Here for holiday, he said; soon shipping out to the coast, to see if any of the Venom revolutionaries wanted to try practicing their magic on scrappy Corneria; they'll be there to make sure they see them back into the continent, give them what for-- oh, is that Reverend Hare, Reverend Hare!

"Slippy, you don't have to shout," Peppy said, reaching the carriage. "I'm right here."

"Prince George'll give them what for too," Slippy said to the ladies, who giggled, charged by his enthusiasm.

"The Venomian Revolution is over," Peppy said, reaching up to get into the carriage. "Whatever periodic riots are happening; you-- my word, Corporal, don't you read the weeklies?"

"'Course I do," Slippy said, not taking his eyes off the ladies. He struck a huge grin. "But never trust a Venomian; am I right?" He laughed gallantly and swept himself up onto the carriage next to the hare. "Right, where do, Rev? Up for a bit of hunting? I-- Good Lord--"

A donkey trailed its way into the square, hauling a massive wagon, filled with large black wheels, and a long cannon. An ape stood upon it, driving the wagon; a wolf in a long dark raincoat followed.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" Slippy shouted, running the length of the square. He paused, eyes upon the glittering war engine. Artillery was his speciality, he thought; it's my speciality; it has always been my specialty; but I've never seen a thing like this."What-- what is this?"

"Qui?" the ape said. "Wolf, c'est une pomme! Vert sur le tete -- une pomme vert! Rouge sur la graisse! Une pomme rouge!"

"Ferme ton fucking bouche, Andrew!" the wolf shouted, leaping up onto the wagon and staring at the ape with one good eye. Turning onto Slippy, he bowed low and said, "Herr Toad--"

"That's Corporal, mate," Slippy said quickly, indicating his unifor.

"Herr Corporal-- Corporal Toad-- Do you know what's currently happening across the channel at this very moment?"

"Hopefully hiding themselves, fearing the Cornerian might and good Prince George."

"Andross Oikonny--"

"An upstart--"

"Is now Emperor of Venom."

Slippy blinked, taking that in.

"Cannons like these ones," Wolf said, tapping the artillery, "are being sent to the coast; you should be whisking your way there too, I should think."

"Nothing will come of it!" Slippy said, almost shouting. "Venom has too much respect for Corneria."

"Ja, doch. At any rate, I bid you gentlemen good day. Afternoon, Corporal."

Slippy and Peppy watched the wagon roll through the square and out towards the road. The wagon hit a rock and the wheel cracked in two, the entire thing twisting, bits of iron catapulting along the square. The ape fell, lost in the cascade of metal.

"Oh my Lord!" Slippy shouted, running over as fast as he could. Other men joined him, pulling pieces of the cannon up. Wolf got to Andrew first, pulling off a large chunk of iron off him.

"Mon jambe!" Andrew screamed loud, waving his arms. "Ah, mon jambe, mon jambe!"

"What's he screaming about?" one of the men asked.

"His leg," Slippy said. "Don't move him. Is it broken? Est-il, uh, uh, casse?"

Andrew stared at him, trying to work through Slippy's thick Cornerian accident, looked at his leg, then said, "Oui. Je pense."

"Can someone get a splint!" Wolf barked at the nearest man. "Good Christ, I should strangle you, Andrew. Ich hasse dich, good Christ!"

He stomped away from the accident, let the others deal with it. He fumbled in his raincoat, feeling for his tobacco. They would be late, and if they were late, they would not be paid quite half as well as he'd hoped. He wondered if there were more lucrative militaries in the world; he had not relished coming to this rainy island after the sun of the south coasts of Venom. And to stay for longer in Bravenshire, one of the dotty little villages peppering this area of Corneria--

But then he looked up, and saw, of all people, Fox McCloud, stepping out of a carriage with Falco Lombardi, talking animatedly with each other. Ah, but the Lord does parcel out packages of good will to his little men. Wolf smiled, rolled his cigarette, and went on smiling.

Fox was here; he could probably turn a profit out of this situation.