Misadventures

Presentable Serfdom

War of the Four Banners

Redwall Short Story

Bigfang had a lot to unpack as he looked around at his surroundings. He had been the fair before, the large tents, the aroma of sweet woodlander food, the entertaining jugglers and comedians, all of it was a whole big affair he believed was above. He puffed his chest out, although none could see it, as he cringed at the things around him as the prisoner line came to a stop. He was soon joined by his little brother and sister, dropped off by two very relieved soldiers who left as quickly as they came. They looked up to Bigfang and tormented him instead.

"Ya know what be goin on, big'un? Why dey got you all in those things like dat. Ya get in trouble again? We all in trouble? Ya gonna tell him we's didn't do nutten."

Bigfang groaned and looked down at his brother and sister, their usual awkward selves now looking more frightened. They had a hard time understanding what was going on, and he couldn't really blame them. He was more confused than angry, about how these woodlanders accused his parents of 'banditry', how despite constant explanation they refused to let them go, and how these beasts he had known for seasons as soft and unbothered with violence were now openly threatening his life. Valtman's words still bothered him, and his father provided no help. He only answered his younger siblings "Be silent you two, and don't get us any more attention. Last ding we need right now."

"Why dat be?"

A growl from Bigfang got them too finally be silent. Bigfang was soon finding himself pushed by soldiers to the middle of a dirty courtyard, and once he settled, he looked up and began to feel a tingle of true and unrepentant fear. Crowning the middle of the courtyard was a gallows' stage with three nooses, lacking its victims, stood ominously. However, this was no prop, as Bigfang looked down towards his own level, seeing a rat and fox his age looking up sadly at it. It took only a momentary kick from one of the soldiers to send them to different tasks as Bigfang gulped horribly. He looked to his parents for some comfort, but they were staring horrified at this grim structure. Soldiers casually passed by this thing as the prisoners were lined up to face it, and their shackles unlocked. Bigfang gripped his arms, now finally free of the weight on them, and looked about a bit dismayed. He was looking for a clear way to get out for himself, but his attention was forced back towards the front by a soldier behind him who gently pushed him with the butt of his weapon.

"Attention!" Gasger loudly yelled "Stand at attention! Your lord will greet you shortly, a single word out of any of you to embarrass me or Captains Raman and Valtman will be punished in the harshest manner!" Gasger motioned towards the gallows as the group collectively gulped. Gasger looked over the group as he kept an eye on them. When the hare's eyes came upon Bigfang and his siblings, he saw the teen looking to the side and the youngsters looking up at him. The hare groaned and chided him "Face forward, vermin, you will be professional one way or another. Act like it now, or learn the hard way later." Gasger took the weasel's head and straightened him up, much to Bigfang's anger. He resisted him instinctively at first, but Gasger's forceful movements became even more harsher which caused him pain.

"Continue on like that, serf, and you won't last long."

Bigfang in truth was very anxious, his rebelliousness faded with the fear of death as the hare went up and down the line doing the same thing to others. Loamspear motioned Whitenose and Blacknose to her, picking them up and hugging them. Bigfang and the others waited and kept waiting. A small thought crossed him, giving a weird look to the overseeing hare. Der hells a 'serf'. So what are we? Slaves? No, can't be, work beasts don't make uder beasts into workbeasts if what pa said is right. Though, he'd been wrong before. Bigfang didn't fully understand it, but he waited and slacked from how Gasger wished to present them. Before long, Raman and Valtman returned with a larger group, all following the most absurd thing he had ever seen.

The prisoners beheld before them something they didn't fully get, let alone understood. To the vermin like Dakker, it was a squirrel in the most richly garbed dress and armor he could not even dream of. His armor was gilded with gold, a golden chain with a bell's emblem around his neck, a metal band of gold upon his head, and so much more. Each ring was far more in value then all the things he had ever seen in his entire life, and it all looked absolutely frightening. The squirrel looked tired and observed the prisoners coldly, his gaze fell on Dakker and Loamspear who shifted their gaze from him. Bigfang was not as frightened, nor were his siblings, but they were utterly speechless.

Lena and the woodlanders saw something else instead.

For it was the most clownish, absurd thing they had ever witnessed, with the vole holding in a chuckle for his dear life. Lena found all this gold, all this jewelry and royal garb, so rich and fine as it was a complete waste. Lena looked affixed at trying to understand this travesty of armor, so cumbersome and pointless that it may as well have laughed any enemy to death. Her gaze fell on Dakker and the other vermin, who were aghast and afraid. She wasn't really surprised, and it disappointed her that the vermin beside her were so afraid of this wannabe tyrant. She held her head up with some dignity, something quickly noticed by him and his entourage.

"This is the ninth group of prisoners we had today, and the sorriest lot I've witnessed." The squirrel muttered to another hare beside him. He shook his head and spoke up with great authority to them, with some clear frustration in his voice.

"I am Prince Frankfort of the house of Squirrelking. Rulers of Southsward and its realms. I have led three armies into this land to free it from the shackles of barbarism and incompetence, to show a better way for all beasts and to remove the threat of vermin evil forever. My captains have brought you woodlanders here not as prisoners, but as students to redeem yourselves of your crimes of either aiding the enemy, fighting your saviors, or some other manner of crime. The trust I have for my captains is absolute, there will be no trial or complaint from you. You will serve this army as serfs for twenty seasons, starting today, where you will learn the Southsward values of discipline, hard work, and honor."

Lena nearly dropped her jaw at this. Twenty what now!? He can't be serious! Learning!? All manner of hate filled her mind as she bit her lip, keeping herself silent. Frankfort was about to continue, but one of the rats spoke up almost relieved.

"Oh? Only Twenty bleeden seasons?" The vermin turned to the beat-up rat, and all the eyes came upon him. He was going to continue, but he soon realized he made a terrible mistake. Frankfort angrily corrected him in a calm manner which bordered on an inner hatred. "For the woodlander folk, vermin."

The rat was soon jumped on by some of the soldiers as he yelled and pleaded, frightening the prisoners. "Wait, erm, sorry gov'ner! Please!" The soldiers dragged him off, to a fate that Dakker nor the others even wanted to guess. The squirrel watched, almost breaking a grin as the rat was dragged further into the camp, returning his attention fully to the vermin. His mannerisms faded to a colder and cruel tone.

"Now, without any more interruptions from you vermin. You are too savage to let live, too evil to ignore. Yet, we do not believe it has to be that way. You will serve as our laborers forever and be put under strict regimental care by our captains and in turn you will do camp functions. Since neither violence nor diplomacy will teach you, then harsh labor will at least null you in the hopes your children or your children's children will be brought into the light as good beasts. However, I doubt this. There will be no tolerance for the likes of you, your normal schemes will see you are put into the dark forest for even the thought of betrayal and violence. You will obediently and diligently do as your overseer's command or perish. You will also certainly not interrupt your betters. Is that understood?"

The vermin looked at each other in utter silence, unsure of what to do. They didn't want to set him off and simply stared at him in silence and terror. Frankfort grew frustrated and grumbled to himself before turning to Gasger "Gasger, have these beasts fitted into their new roles, dole out the usual. Captain Raman and Valtman, come with me, we have much to discuss amongst the other captains."

The two captains nodded and followed. The vermin, frozen in fear moved their eyes on Gasger who watched them leave, and once gone turned his attention fully to them.

"You are all now serfs of Southsward, but you look like common thugs and tribal. It is time we fixed that and make you all into something marginally more acceptable."

Shoved into an open tent, Bigfang and the other prisoners felt sheepish as their imaginations ran wild. They wondered what terrible and evil tortures awaited them that would turn their normal selves into the soulless cogs they saw around the camp. Bigfang bravely held up his chin, prepared to brave whatever needed for his own sake. Those beside him seemed afraid, but it was he who would out brave them, and resist such tortures to prove his superior endurance.

He was not prepared for what he saw in that tent.

Before the group, who looked increasingly confused, was several rows of tubs and towels. Several hedgehogs were pouring water into the tubs, and then some other substance. Suds began to bubble from them as they swished it around as Dakker looked to his fellow otter prisoner in confusion, expecting a water dog to know something about what he was seeing. The otter looked at him back, unsure why the weasel was looking at him.

"Psst." Dakker spoke silently to him as the group was pushed further into the tent by Gasger and his goons "Ya know anyding about dis waterdog? Is dat an acid? Is it some manner of torture?!"

The otter frowned and grunted "You never had a bath before, have you vermin?"

"Der hells is that? Is that a torture?"

The otter wanted to be surprised, but honestly wasn't. With the number of times, he gagged and coughed trying to chase vermin thugs away from his own village whenever he got close to them, he should have known better Dakker wasn't the most hygienic. Most vermin to him were ignorant of it, but not all, usually it was the cleaner ones he had to be careful of. Cleaner vermin often meant smart vermin, and that was far more dangerous than it had any right being. Dakker nudged him "Wells?"

"Its just a bath? I don't know what else to say, weasel. If I had to guess, they intend to clean us."

"Dat it?" Bigfang asked disappointed somewhat, but also relieved. "Clean us, den torture an' kill us?"

"Oh dey ain't killen us." Dakker mocked "Dat blasted hare says we needed to look 'presentable', so its probably some stupid woodlander version of what true ol' vermin do already. Can't even do it right! Ha!"

Confidence surged back into Dakker and Bigfang as they were turned around, facing Gasger who was waiting for someone. Dakker was less and less intimidated, a smarter beast would have kept all that he had seen in mind and made connections. Dakker was not that kind of beast, folding his paws, almost impatient for the next set of horrors as he looked about at his fellow vermin. His family was frightened, along with the rest of the prisoners as he scolded them openly "Why ya all looken like dat? Tis just some water an' suds. All dis is just some poor intimidation is what it all is."

Dakker was purposefully quiet in his scolding, as the ferret who was holding his younger sister close him spoke up "Oh be quiet, ya stupid weasel. Before you get us into more trouble!"

Dakker motioned his body forward to him, and the ferret backed off as Dakker mocked him "Ya, well, at least ya know better to know I be a bigger threat den is softie camp. I was killen an' beaten on beasts befer yer pa was even marchen wit a real gang or horde. Don't dink just cause yer here dat I forgiven ya from tryen to steal from me home, Bloodpatch."

"Don't ya talk about our pa." the ferret's sister said tearfully, but Dakker grunted and hammered his point him "Ya, well, even if he were here an' not lazily resten in der dirt no doubt, not like it would change much ya two."

Lena and her otter companion were appalled as the weasel stood his ground and looked on impatiently. Bigfang, not to be outdone, came a bit forward to also lift his chin up, fold his paws, and look angry as well. Lena could not help but cringe at the thought that even with all the threats they were subjected to, this family of vermin remained as ever resistant. It would have been admirable for her if it wasn't done so dumbly.

At some time later, a mouse entered the tent in a beret, many feathers sticking out of a cap adorned with some golden and shiny pin. Dakker's attempt at intimidated softened when he looked down at the mouse, so richly clothed, snobbish, and powdered that he had mistaken him for a clown. The mouse looked them over, and put his paws on his nose as he spoke "Uhg! Gasger, why must you bring these things to me? These one are worst smelling then the last ones!"

Gasger rolled his eyes and spoke in his normally collected and cold self "Marson, Frankfort's orders. You are the camp's chief barber. Now please, just get this done and over with. I'd rather be literally anywhere else then looking over this lot."

Marson sighed and took his attention back to the vermin. Dakker tried to be intimidating as he spoke up to them in a dramatic and fluid voice "Serfs of Southsward, or well, future common folk of the camp, I am Marson. Chief barber of his royal majesty's armies and Frankfort's most personal barber! Your days in those. . ." He looked over their dirty tunics, ragged clothes, and other things he found foul. He paused and just continued "Your days of barbarism and looking like your crawled out of a sewer is over. Now please. I will ask you all politely and quickly to remove them and get into your respective tubs."

"Wut a tub?" A voice asked. Marson was looked to see there were dibbums in the crowd and raised an eyebrow. He ignored the question and awaited the group to respond. They didn't move, still a bit unsure or a bit too frightened to do much. Marson tapped his foot in impatience, and Gasger gave a bored command to them "Do as he says, you lot. Or what is happening to that rat they took away; I will do to you next."

They didn't need that reminder as the group slowly began remove their belongings, putting it in small piles so they wouldn't all meld together in a pile. Lena and her otter companion were slow in taking off their warrior garbs, as Marson oversaw and motioned the beasts to different tubs in the tent. Gasger and his thugs watched on, mostly bored as the hare seemed almost as unfortunately kept prisoner in this tent as they were. Whitenose and Blacknose didn't move, still uncertain what to do as their mother picked them up and brought them with her. The soldiers nor Marson's attendents minded this, but they did mind when the two ferret siblings tried to keep close with one another.

"One bath for each please." Marson chided them. The older brother gave a comforting but ultimately awkward smile to try to keep his sister calm, but it wasn't working. The two were forcefully shoved apart as she was soon next to Bigfang who was looking down at the tub. He gave a dismissive look to the frightened ferretess next to him and huffed "Oh what you being so scared about? If they wanted to kill you, they'd had done it. Like yer pa an' ma."

The ferretess went from frightened to furious, giving him a poisoned look, and seemed she was about to say something until Marson came up to them and ordered them around "Enough talking and more getting in the tubbing." The mouse was impatient as they obeyed.

Dakker stood in the water as he looked around dismissively at the others. One by one, the Southsward soldiers began to scrub as the group sank into the tubs. The soap waters were warmed, much to his surprise, and it sort of felt kinda good. However, he was still folding his paws in some manner of verminous dignity. He huffed in arrogance, amused by how the other vermin and woodlanders around him were growing a bit uncomfortable while he stood.

Then a soldier grabbed him and pushed him into the tub.

He tried to resist at first, but the soldier was far stronger as he felt a brush on his sides and back, getting caught on the dirty and unwashed parts he tended to ignore on his fur, pulling and peeling at him. It hurt, a lot more then it honestly should have.

"Gah! Helps!" Dakker began trying to thrash about to get control, but the soldier who was washing him had gained a lot of experience the past few days with the vermin being panicky in the water. Dakker thrashed and complained loudly as the soldier grunted and complained with him.

"Whatcha tryen to do, kills me!?"

"Oh shut it, vermin. My brush is catching on all this blasted dirt! Now hold still!"

"Yer killen me! Killen me!"

"Stop moving, or really will be killing you!"

Dakker continued to thrash around as the soldier pushed his head harshly into the suddy water, burning his eyes only to come up again. This happen incredibly often, the sheen of his fur began to be a bit brighter as years of stank and grit flooded into the waters. The soldiers were incredibly thorough, not a single spot on Dakker was spared. The weasel, desperate to escape this torment tried to leave the tub in a panicked hurry, but the soldier only pushed him back on in. Bigfang was far less resistant, but he struggled himself as the soldiers angrily brushed and cleaned the group. Marson was only happy with Loamspear and her children, calmer and more helpful as despite being unclean herself, she aided her cleaner in keeping her children still. The same could not have been said of many others as Marson kept observances. Dakker continued to try to escape, and despite his increasing anger, he did not calm as his miserable cleaning tormentor angrily kept pushing him back into his tub.

Lena and her otter companion watched; a bit amused as the biggest vermin baby in that tent continued to scream bloody murder.

Lena and her otter friend looked down at something that was making them frown. Once their cleaning had been done, they were escorted to another tent by Marson. Lena had hoped she would at least get to keep her good shirt, only to be informed when she went back to go get it that it was gone. Gone is often a weird way to say 'disposed', or 'burned away', but it was gone and Lena didn't know if she should have expected that either. She had noticed the laborers around the camp wore these baggy or tight-fitting peasant clothes, with a yellow vest. Now, Lena was staring down at her own yellow vest, and the otter gave a long and exasperated sigh.

"This ain't gonna fit me." Lena gave a look to what the otter was given and frowned as well. It was true, his was a size too short, and hers was a size too big. Both silently agreed and swapped, but still looked down at these yellow ridiculous vests and said nothing.

Dakker was the last to arrive in the tent but wasn't the last to start wearing the new uniform. Dakker was grumpily putting on the yellow vest with a clear spite to it. He thought his fur looked ridiculous, as he put on the embarrassing clothes, he thought were stupid and pointless looking. Marson came into the tent, checking the prisoners as he took out a string, making measurements on some of them. "Oh, this will barely do."

"It will have to." Gasger joined him next, looking as bored as ever. "Marson, these clothes will get dirty anyway once we set them to work. I am going to ask you not to take and entire day making sure they look 'spiffy' before they start ripping them."

"Well, that isn't my duties, hare." Marson grunted. He came to Lena and took the vest from her, putting it on her himself and adjusting it. Dakker gave an angry look to Gasger who watched uninterested, looking for any excuse to relieve his boredom and abandon these silly duties. Gasger noticed and scowled "Is something wrong, vermin."

"Yea. Where me proper clothes at." Dakker said in a low voice, bordering on fury. He felt like he was joining a circus and issued his complaints "I look like a blasted clown. Is bein tortured in dat uder tent enough, or can ya just set us to some duties an' be done wit it?"

Gasger came slowly forward till he towered over the weasel, amused as he backed up a bit in fear. "You will get back to be rotten and dirty soon enough, vermin. I will take that into consideration."

"And you are far from done!" Marson added. Dakker complained, watching as Marson helped his kids get on their uniforms. Bigfang, now fully cleaned and his head groomed, felt far worse than he had even coming to this place. He felt ridiculous in the new uniform forced on him. Whitenose and Blacknose were far from helpful, only kept in line by Loamspear who vaguely helped the affix their clothes, which was patchy and loose. Dakker noticed and grunted "Dat ain't fitten on me pups. Ya got anyding der size?"

Marson huffed in response "Of course not, vermin! I don't have anything your size either! We didn't exactly bring an entire supply train full of laborer's clothes, since you are all wearing the hand-me-downs of our good soldiers and peasant folk, our camp followers! I'm lucky to even get what little we got from the villages in this empty landmass you call a country!"

"That empty landmass be our home, mouse." The vole grunted in annoyance, affixing his own clothes, clearly more meant for a mole then himself.

"Yes. It is." Gasger grumbled and chided the group in general "This 'home' of yours which is a barely developed wasteland of trees and savages. The filth of your barbarism isn't worth my time, but it is worth my liege lord's. The fact we must sanatize you for hours wastes the time and effort of this entire camp."

The vole challenged the hare, speaking up to him "Then why the bloody hell did you bring us here then?"

"Cause the alternative is to just hang you all and be done with it." Gasger reminded him. Silence fell over the group again, and the younger ferretess in the group peeped up in fear. Marson spoke up next to them, trying to realign the mood "Now, Gasger, no need for such words or threats, you will have plenty of time for that! Now, who wants to be trimmed first?"

"Trimmed?" The ferret of the group asked curiously. Marson seemed annoyed and spoke up again "Yes, trimmed. Groomed. Being less hairy! Your coats are all a terrible mess, we didn't wash you so you can continue looking like that now! No need to delay, one of you will choose or I'll pick for you." Marson tapped his foot, awaiting patiently. Dakker nearly laughed as he seemed to think this was some manner of trick. "Ha, nice one. I am not getten yer paws on me fur. I'm already clean enough! I got water still pouren out of me ears."

Gasger again approached Dakker in an unfriendly mood and grabbed his shoulder, pushing him towards Marson. Dakker soon enough found himself sitting in a chair forcibly by the hare as Marson set up a small table next to Dakker. The weasel tried to move a bit to get more comfortable, but Gasger simply pushed him back further into the chair. Dakker then saw Marson approached him with a big pair of scissors.

"Please don' actually kill me!" Dakker begged. Marson paused, rolled his eyes and set to work. Dakker didn't resist as Gasger kept watch over him.

Bigfang entered another tent, their last destination after their ordeal. Carrying with him was a decently sized blanket, a pillow, and a brush. This was all they had given him as the rest entered the tent to get a look at their surroundings. It was a big tent, almost a permanent structure with a grassy floor slowly turning into dirt. Set up were cots in rows which extended to the far back. Sheepishly, and embarrassed, Bigfang slowly made his way over to a cot at the farther end but was stopped by the voice of Dakker who sounded more tired than furious "Not der, over here boy."

Bigfang turned, nearly wanting to chuckle seeing his father now fully trimmed and groomed, his fur cut short and the wild appearance which gave him a fearsome and dignified look of a hordebeast now entirely cut into something that resembled a formal, if not clownish, looking beast. He'd have laughed had he not also gone through the process, remembering the haunted and cursed feeling as he stared into a pale of water to see what they had done to his face and body. Dakker set himself near the middle the tent, angrily throwing his things onto the cot as the other embarrassed prisoners entered the tent as well. Loamspear frowned, holding her little ones as she set her struggling youngsters on top of a cot, ordering them to be still. Marson entered the tent with Gasger last, a couple of the soldiers behind them.

Dakker wanted to give the hare a dangerous look but decided against it. Last few times resulted in a barrage of humiliations. Gasger then shouted "Attention! Line up! All of you!"

The group looked at Gasger and slowly got into a line in front of their respective beds. Gasger spoke to them, his paws behind his back as he paced up and down. "You are serfs of his majesty's army, and laborers! You are assigned here till you are divided out amongst proper divisions, but do not expect time off to dilly and dally. You will be given work details in the camp at my orders, and you will be given the hardest labor for being the most difficult, childish, and barbarous lot we had to deal with thus far!" He turned his attention to Dakker who only grunted in response. Gasger continued, laying down the rules.

"You will keep your heads down, you will call your superiors by their proper titles, and every single day you will be expected to clean yourselves, your tent organized, and you will work diligently and without complaint. You will have warnings for minor infractions, and you will be lashed for major ones. If you prove you are too violent, irredeemable, and troublesome to keep. You will be hanged forthwith. You are not as some in this camp may claim to be 'slaves', you are serfs. Serfs who obey their superiors without question and you will be completely and totally grateful to whatever is demanded of you! You know me only a Officer Gasger, but you will be calling all beasts under my command as 'sir'. Failure, and you will be lashed. You eat improperly and savagely. Lashings. Your clothes rip and tear? Lashes."

"Bleeden hell." The vole grumbled to himself "What der hell doesn't get lashings?"

Gasger heard this and slowly came over to him. The old vole looked up, not at all intimidated. Gasger bent his head down at him and informed him "Speaking out of turn, vole, but enough smaller infractions and I do hope you know enough to get the picture." The vole silenced himself and kept up his hateful glance on the hare. Gasger then turned his attention to the vermin, coming up to Dakker as he spoke to the group.

"You will start on your tasks immediately, but of course, first thing is first. What was your name again?"

"Dakker." He replied. Gasger grunted and thought for a moment, and then nodded "Then you will be named Dapan."

Dakker gave the hare a weird look "Nay, name's Dakker?" He was unsure if the hare was trying to prod at him, but the hare firmly replied back in "Typical of you creatures to not understand. You are no longer to answer to that name. Your name is now Dapan."

"No." Dakker finally had enough, growling angrily at the hare "Ya nearly have me drowned, give me de's stinken clown suit, an' den make me an' me family look like a bunch of softie woodlander folk! I ain't changing me name fer ya, long ears!"

Gasger squinted his eyes as Dakker got control of himself as the hare slapped him harshly across the face which nearly sent him flying. Dakker recovered as Gasger raised his voice. "For that, you and your brood are now at half rations. For the rest of the week."

Loamspeer begged her husband "Dakker, please." He gave his missus a sad look before he could see the hare smirking. He simply nodded and weakly replied "Fine. Call mes whatever ya wish."

Gasger took his paw to Dakker's throat and began to squeeze. Marson tried to speak up to the hare "Good hare, no need for this. I think he gets it?"

Gasger wasn't listening as continued to squeeze at Dakker's throat. He began to choke, gripping the hare's arm, trying to claw at it to get him to release. Gasger wasn't even affected and loosened his grip. "Say it, scum."

"N-name's Dapan! Bleeding he-hell!" Dakker chocked and gagged. Loamspear tried to come forward, but was held back by one of the soldiers as she watched on in horror. She begged the hare "Please! He be an idiot beast, but he be mine idiot beast! Spare him!" Gasger could hear Dakker's youngest starting to cry in the background, looking into the weasel's eyes, and Dakker looking into his own. Gasger could see fear behind all that facad of bombastic foolery, and Dakker could see a beast who wanted to see the light snuffed from him, but something very strong held that hare back from simply wringing his neck. Dakker began to lose consciousness before Gasger let him got and the weasel fell to the ground, coughing and gagging. Dakker spat into the dirt, nursing his neck as Gasger spoke down to him. "Your name, serf. What is it."

"D-Dapan." Dapan coughed. Gasger smiled and moved on to the others. The weasel kept himself on the ground as one by one, the names of his family and the others were changed.

"Loamspear? Of course named after a weapon. Marson? You think Martha is a good Southsward name? Martha it is then."

"Bigfang. I'm not surprised your dolt of a kin would name you in such a stupid manner. You look like a Moran to me. Don't give me that look, serf. No, it does not mean 'moron', although if you wish for that name, I can oblige."

"Hmmm. These two, I can barely tell them apart by the names, let along these savage features. The boy will named Zadan, and the girl Mia."

Dapan held back tears, replaced with rage, and hate for that hare as he so casually removed what little else, they had from him. It wasn't enough to remove him, but they had to take their names as well. The two ferrets got their names next, from being once Bloodpatch and Blaki, now they were Sadan and Murna. Dapan finally got his strength back to stand up again, as Gasger finished up what he was doing. He came to front of the tent as he chided them further. "Remember your names well, they will be recorded and be used for you from now on. You will have a mercy to get used to them for a week, but refusals and ignorance beyond it will mean a swift lashing. Your work details will be loading supplies, and I will be back within the hour to drag you miserable, ungrateful, moronic creatures to be useful in this camp. You best all be ready." Gasger turned his attention to Dapan and smirked "And of course, some of you will be given 'special' work details."

Dapan had no strength to even give him an angry eye, and simply watched him leave. Once he had left, Lena gave the Grassweaves a pitied look as Dapan slowly began to sit on his cot and motioned his frightened young ones to him, embracing them along with his missus in what little comfort they now had left.