Misadventures

Starvation

War of the Four Banners

Redwall Short Story

BLLLUURRRTTTT

Moran nearly jumped out of his cot and landed on the ground, arising like a mad beast as he looked around in a daze. His father arose from his cot suddenly and brashly, and his mother yawned. Moran was really starting to hate his life, and he was also really starting to hate the hare. Gasger stood at the entrance of the tent, his eyes looking down in disgust at the beasts. "Up! Up and adam, one hour to clean, get your rations squared away, and make your beds! Failure will mean halving of your rations!"

The threat was terrifying as Moran felt a sharp pain in his belly, and a grumbling from his upset stomach. Gasger noticed him as he slowly stood from his bed, grasping his stomach and grunting to himself. "Three more days, Moran. Then you can eat normally. I hope this time spent with some lessened food will make you as less verminous than your father. Dapan! Get that cot made, I will not delay a second longer! Raman suspects this side of the camp to be spiffy by today's end!"

The serfs were about to head out, but Gasger then angrily cried out "No, stand by your beds and stand at attention! Consider this your first inspection."

The serfs got beside their beds and stood, impatiently awaiting Gasger's cursed approval. He looked down the beds with increasing disgust, which at this point was about the only emotion the hare seemingly had. Only Raskar's bed seemed well done, which he gave a dismissive grunt of.

It was at Moran's bed did the hare seem to be insulted. Moran didn't know why the hare was mad, his blanket was flipped and crumpled in a small pile, his pillow on the opposite side of the bed, and his cot a little lopsided. Gasger groaned and forcefully turned the young weasel around "Redo it. Now." He ordered. Moran didn't fully know what to do, and just shifted the pillow a little.

Gasger blinked, not at all amused as he angrily shouted at the others "The remainder of you, go and take your baths and eat your rations. You are staying here, young vermin, till I see it done right."

Martha came forward cautiously, trying to get her youngster away from Gasger's spiteful eye "Erm, sir. Not to intrude, but me boy takes a bit much from his pa ya see, not used to all dis woodlander cleanliness an' what not. Maybe I can help him, eh?"

Gasger gave her a critical eye and grunted "This isn't something that even needs to be taught. I can perfectly do this by my own lonesome, not that any of you did this any better. Only that rat over did something minorly acceptable. Now take those two broodlings of yours and go."

Martha gave a pitied look to Moran, who didn't feel or look like he was well. He gave a desperate look to his parents as they left, leaving himself with Gasger in the tent. Gasger put his paws behind his back and began to command him around "Take that blanket and put it straight onto the cot, yes. Like that. Was that so hard? Pillow goes at the front of the. . .no. That isn't the front you moron. The other end!"

Moran did as commanded, but he was slow. This wasn't because he was a disgruntled and rebellious mood, but because he felt a bit weak. He was hungry, and Gasger could see that. "There. Simple. Continue following orders and you will remain on full rations. Now get going before I change my mind."

Moran groaned which only got him a quick slap from behind his head "And stop bleeding groaning, or I will start inventing numbers to describe how low your rations is going to be on."

Moran found his way to the baths, washed up, and then was out and about in the camp. He followed his nose to the local mess hall where he was familiar with and got his miserably small rations which he chowed down on in desperation. Even his mother was surprised to see him so hungry and gave a mocking smile to him to try to cheer him up "Hells, maybe I shoulda gave ya less if it made ya finish yer meals like dat at home."

Moran gave his mother a weak, but angry, look and snapped back at her "If ya made stuff dat didn't taste like der backside of a badger's back, den maybe I'd not wanna puke it up."

Dapan, sitting next to him, quickly responded with a much harsher slap on his head. Martha frowned at them both as Dapan angrily scolded him "I may allow ya to talk to me dat way, boy, but not yer ma. Now, shut yer trap."

Moran silenced himself, as his father talked in a more depressive tone to Martha "Me Lov'ly. I hate to say it, but I dink dat old soul be right. We might be here fer awhile, a lot longer den I thought. I'm too tired to even move at times, an' dat hare ain't gonna keep his eyes from us anytime soon."

Martha nodded "I just want ya an' our little ones to be safe is all, me bumblen boof."

Moran felt sick, not because he was hungry, but because of all the stupid nicknames they said to each other in his presence. It felt undignified for a strong and imposing teen such as him.

"I know. How White an' Black holden up?" Dakker asked of his youngest. Martha wasn't with them, but she turned to see the two hiding underneath one of the mess hall tables, eating their meals peacefully and playing games with each other. It made her smile to see them so at peace with the situation. "Dey holden, Dakker. Just hopen we hold it ourselves. . .ya okay, Bigfang?"

Moran shook his head "I'm still hungry."

"Ya, well, ya get more tomorrow. Just keep yer head down and struggle through it, ya moron." Dapan snapped at him. Moran only nodded and grumbled, flicking his tail and laying his head on the table. He just wanted to sleep and wake up with a full meal, even if were just a dream.

Lined up in the camp's center, Moran got a good sense of his new surroundings. They were still in Palewind, but it was a bit more open ended and overly organized. The soldiers gave them strange looks, and then pitied ones when they looked down at his little brother and sister, both who clung close to their mother's feet. Forced to line up, Gasger paced between them until Raman appeared from the largest and most maculate pavilion, and with him was Gulan. Raman spoke to the serfs in his usual cold and condescending tone "I am Raman Coastlord, some of you already know me well."

He stared at the Grassweaves and Dapan averted his eyes. The weasel wanted to curse out the otter for having him be dragged back into Gasger's grasp, as the hare gave a strict stance to his lord and liege. "Captain Raman, this as best as I can do. They are clean, fed, and ready for work."

Raman sighed and spoke up to them "Prince Frankfort Squirrelking has demanded that we act as your teachers to be civilized good beasts, rather than the unrepentant savages we found you as. In the hopes of perhaps you become citizens of Mossflower, rather then common bandits and thieves. Or at worse, enemies and brutes. Your work will not be light, for we are a military camp on campaign, and we do not stop nor rest for the likes of you. Lieutenant Gasger will be your taskmaster, you will obey his command without question nor complaint. This is my brother, Gulan. You will not be bothering him at all, as he leads the vanguard of my division. You will get to know our soldiers well, and I will get to know you. Now, step forward and you will receive your monthly tasks for the division. First beast first. Dapan Grassweave."

Dapan stepped forward cautiously as he stood before the cold-eyed otter who folded his paws. Raman had a hard time seeing a fellow beast; Dapan was a little short, and even with a nice bath he had a cursed smell to him. The beast was easily frightened by him yet would have sudden spurts of 'bravery' through his rude tongue. Raman's previous serfs were at least fellow woodlanders and peasants from his homeland, friendly and willing to work. They were more importantly at least competent, clean, and cultured. It was large insult to him that Dapan could barely lift a crate which one of his serfs he knew personally could lift and carry three with no issue.

"You will be primarily dealing in logistics, vermin. We leave Palewind within the weak with other captains, so I will suspect this entire camp to be packed up by then. All of it."

Dapan widened his eyes in horror "Der entire camp?! By meself!?"

Raman did not look amused and held back an insult he wished to share with the creature before him. Gulan gave a small snorting chuckle and was quick to calm Dapan's fears "No, not like the entire whole of Palewind. Just our tents and supplies, and you certainly won't be the only one."

Dapan didn't look fully relieved as Raman shooed him on "Go and stand over there, you have your duties, you can begin shortly once everyone receives their schedules."

Next came Martha and her youngsters, whom Raman gave a more pitied look to. Zadan and Mia were to be put to work on the division's laundry and cleaning but would be looked over by both Martha and Gulan on occasion. Martha herself was given over to the kitchens for cooking, although he had said this with reluctance. Most of the others were doled out to logistics tasks. Moran was the last to find himself in front of Raman, as he and Gulan looked down at him. Raman lifted an eyebrow as he noticed the younger weasel did not look well at all.

"Gasger." Gulan began to say, but Raman finished "Is this beast sick?"

"No." The hare grunted "Just suffering under simple ration reductions."

Gulan looked concerned at Moran and offered "Maybe it be best he joined with me, Raman. You know, he is sorta got good paws for organization, maybe a bit of time with the quartermaster might do him some good?" Gulan gave a big, faked smile, and he slowly began to frown when Raman gave him that icy, annoyed stare.

"Fine." Raman relented "Gasger, take Moran to Malvan."

"Oh, you'll like Malvan." Gulan said cheerfully to the young weasel, still a bit distant due to his growing hunger. He licked his lips as Raman snapped at him "It is best advised you don't trouble Malvan or his work, and if you are smart, you'll avoid what your father tends to do. So, no ill words, no complaining, and just do as you are told. Maybe he'll overlook your incompetence. Gulan, you have to go drill my troops. You aren't here to just gawk at the natives." Gulan sighed and went about his duties, as Moran frowned. He was sort of hoping the softer otter would be dragging him around, at least he spoke to him in a kind manner. The weasel gave a loud sigh, something which got him a swift slap on the back of his head from Gasger.

"Your rations will be restored eventually, serf." Raman coldly stated "Be grateful it'll end soon. Now, Gasger, show this beast to Malvan. I have a few things I need to discuss with Valtman before we head out."

"NO NO NO!" Malvan was practically screaming as Moran looked a bit embarrassed into the box of things he had been working on. Malvan was a big, old, and grumpy hedgehog who looked dismayed as he pulled out uniforms, rags, and other things from it with increasing anger and frustration. The two were in a smaller tent full of boxes and supplies, not as big or as crowded as others were. Moran grumbled and folded his paws, not understanding the hedgehog's frustrations.

"Ya said put all der cloth dings into der, spike back." Moran arrogantly said with a high minded huff. Malvan gave the weasel a dirty look and chided him harshly. "The uniforms go into here, vermin! How do you not know what they look like! These are rags, medical equipment I have no clue you even got them from! How the hells did you stuff this whole tent into here!" Malvan was partly surprised and terrified how this half-starved serf had turned his once well-organized uniform crate into an utter mess. "Seasons damn me. Moran, or should I just say 'moron' from now on? Take this stuff out of the box and redo it!"

"What if I says no?" Moran huffed weakly, and the quartermaster smacked him upside his head "No? Do I need to talk with Gasger about this absurd attitude of yours? Is every single one of your kin like this, eh?"

"I ain't no slavebeast." Moran stuck his nose up, trying to be defiant for once. Yet, it didn't impress the upset quartermaster.

"That's true. You're a serf though, an bound the third army. The alternative, vermin, is that Frankfort kicks you into the Dark Forest. Now get to it, or what Gasger does to you will look like a bleeding vacation."

Moran groaned and got back to work, but he was starting to be slower than usual. He was still very hungry, and it didn't help he could smell woodlander food so close by. The young weasel tried to keep up a stiff upper lip, but even that was proving to be troublesome. Malvan chided and berated him constantly "Make sure to keep a tab on some of our nails, make sure each pouch has sixteen nails each for staking and extras for any form of losses. You can count to sixteen at least, right?"

Moran wasn't paying attention, trying to ignore the hedgehog as he pretended to do work elsewhere. He didn't answer which only frustrated the hedgehog more. "Can you at least respond in a way which isn't a sigh or a moody huff!?"

Moran groaned out, which again got him yet another upside slap. Moran was really starting to hate how often the adults in his life did this to him, all except maybe like one beast. Malvan ordered him around further "Get out of my bleeding tent and bring me a couple boxes from the cart! The small ones with the red circle on them, can you at least do that?"

"Why don't you bleeden get it?" Moran asked with a rebellious accent. The hedgehog growled "Cause you are supposed to be the 'help', not the blasted 'thorn in me bum'! Now go, before I truly do report all of this to Gasger and Raman!"

Moran didn't even have the energy to grunt back, as he held his rumbling stomach. He left the tent and walked about the camp, feeling down about the whole situation. His thoughts brought him to the future, and how even if he left this place alive, he wouldn't be leaving with his dignity. What manner of gang gonna take me in after we get out? Dey'll laugh me out dey will! Stupid pa, stupid ma. Getten us made into workbeasts like dis. Moran continued to grumble, but he stopped and felt worse. Moran walked himself up to one of the carts, spotting his father loading some boxes into one cart and could hear him grumbling himself.

"Dey got us unloading dem only fer us to be loaden it back on in! I swear, dis is all just to torment me. . ." Dapan didn't even see his son at first, who simply stood there. Only a light grumble followed by an annoying sigh got his attention.

"Whacha want, moron?" Dapan asked in a sarcastic voice, not turning away from his work as he pushed another box into the cart. "They bleeden hedgehog worken me to death, ya old flea brain. Not like ya really care an' all. Says he needs the ones wit der red circles."

Dapan grunted "Den go get'em yerself, Bigfang. Yer pa is busy. If dat hare comes over an' sees me not benden me back an' slowly dyen of dis dang heat, he'll do someden I'll regret. If yer der ones to cause it, den yer gonna regret it boy."

Dapan growled, but when his father turned to him and folded his paws, he again became silent. He grunted "Ye growlen an' don't got der attitude fer it? If we were back home, I'd beat ya. Consider yerself real lucky like dat softie otter likes ya."

"He dun'd like me, I just be a tricken him ya see. I got bigger brains den ya, flea brain." Dapan said with pride. In a weird sense, this made Dapan grin seeing his boy in high verminous spirits. "We'll see about dat. Now buzzer off, eh?"

"Can't till ya transport dem stuff to the tent." Moran huffed. Dapan shook his head "I ain't doen a dang ding fer ya, boy. Ya grab it yerself, I ain't yer workbeast. Ya may be me son, but I dun' owe ya a darn ding." Dapan brought up a smaller box and harshly put it into his son's paws who nearly fell over. Moran had carried heavier things, but he felt miserable. He growled and grumbled lowly to himself as his father returned to his work. Moran transported the box further into the tent as Malvan impatiently waited for him to set it upon the ground. "Enough wasting time, weasel. Open it up, I need to count all of the fruit rations."

Moran opened the crate to reveal something that gave him pause. It was jars, all well lined up and full jams, preserved fruits which made the weasel's mouth water with a sweet smell emanating from them. Malvan began to count each of the jars, observing them and grunting at any small imperfection. He noticed Moran give the jams a long and terrible stare, a bit of his drool slowly forming out of his mouth.

The hedgehog smacked him upside his head. "You got work to do, serf. These boxes all need to be checked before we march out. You already get rations as it is. . ."

Moran growled as fiercely as he could, which came out as pathetic and wimpish to the hedgehog "Dey don't feed me at all! Seasons, I'm bleeden hungry. Can't I just have, like, a little bit of a bite, eh?"

Malvan gave a pitied look to the weasel. He would have scolded him if he didn't look like he was legitimately malnourished, whether by the fact he looked like some starving bandit or by Gasger's cruel restrictions. Yet, the weasel's attitude towards him thus far made the hedgehog furious "No! You aren't getting anything from me, vermin. You got a lot more boxes to bring on over, and I want them here quickly. Don't forget to take these ones back once I am done." Moran wanted to speak up, but he had no energy to, as he watched with a grim and tortured eye as the food before him was marked and checked one by one.

Moran didn't know he could feel worse than he did, but even he was amazed as he could barely lift the last crate onto the cart. The other serfs were loading things but were also watched over by the soldiers. Moran spied to see his brother and sister following Gulan about, as he seemed happy to see them smiling as they went about their tasks. Moran frowned, thinking his brother and sister were far too lucky to get a softer beast to watch over him. He wondered why Gulan had suggested him to work with the quartermaster at all. The young weasel was huffing and heaving, as he slowly returned to Malvan's tent, clutching his stomach.

He did not even notice when he barely bumped into Raskar.

"Watch'et, weasel." Raskar said in a threatening tone. Moran looked up and could see the dark rat looming near him, as Moran tried to speak up to him "Den ya watch it, ya. . .ya. . ." Moran was too distracted by his exhaustion to even insult the rat.

Raskar lifted an eyebrow and then began to grin "Hey'der matey. Ya looken real down, eh? Yer dat stupid ol' fool's boy?"

Moran nodded, knowing whom he meant. Yet, he wasn't paying much attention to the sly insult the rat had towards him "Ya looken real pale der, but how bout ya help a fellow vermin out? Der is some nice, sweet, delicious dings in dat tent yer goin to. Ya look like ya need a friend, an' a chief."

Moran gave the rat a scowling look "Likes I am goin to get in trouble on yer account, rat. I'm bigger an' smarter den dat."

"Ya really are, huh? Sounds like we could do well together den, matey." Raskar said with a mischievous smile "Say, we vermin here gotta stick together, an yer pa ain't gonna help ya one bit. Nor any uder beast. Just pocket some apples fer me an' ya, two fer me o' course."

Moran wasn't very sure he could trust the rat, but his offer was certainly tempting. The rat sweetened the deal, seeing the hungry weasel looking distant at the thought of food. "Me matey, it be a mutual deal ya see, betweens me an' ya. Ya scratch me back, I'll scratch yers. Get some food fer ol' Raskar an' I'll get ya some in turn from here on out. Make ourselves a nice pile ol' loot fer ourselves, young'un."

"I—I ain't not young'un. . ." Moran wanted to stand up bravely to the rat, but that weakness was getting to him. He simply nodded as the rat smiled. "Good. Dat hare won't allow me much space, but ya can grab me an' apple or two from dat supply tent. Meet me by der edge of the cart, matey. We'll stick together like glue an' nails. When we get outta here, I'd gladly like to have ya as me number two."

Moran returned to the supply tent nervously and weakly. Moran didn't really know Raskar well, all he heard of him was that he was a gangster from the west sea. Yet, the thought of starting the gang with the rat made his mind bubble. No vermin could resist such temptations, especially when Moran thought of finally being gone from his accursed father and other unwanted kin. Not like Pa even cares if I perished or not. I'm starven an' overworked an dey dink less of me. Dat rat also I bet gotta a good way outta here, probably a smart beast too! Yet as Moran returned to the tent, Malvan was quick to snap him back to attention with a swift slap to his overly slapped head.

"Took you long enough, now come on. We got a lot of work to do." Malvan shoved a rag into the young weasel's paws "As I count, make sure there is no stick on our jams. Last thing I need is spiders and ants! I want them clean." Malvan pointed towards a bucket of soapy water and Moran didn't even give a huff. Rather, the young weasel looked increasingly distant and fidgety, nervous as he stared at his prize. On one of the tables in the tent was a bushel of apples, fresh ones too, collected from villages which would be turned into preserved jams. Moran returned his attention to Malvan and did his job weakly. Moran's imagination of his supposed future as Raskar's hordebeast was quickly turning his mind into apples.

It got bad.

Fast.

The image of himself and a gaggle of fellow vermin in a forest camp, counting out loot from their recent ventures, turned into counting out apples. Then the image of a cooked apples appeared before Moran's eyes, and followed shortly thereafter by his fellow vermin now being turned into large andromorphic apples. Eventually, Malvan spoke up and shook his head as the two worked "Hmph! Just as I thought, of course we got only four fifths of what we need for our journey. Just won't do. Stay here and don't touch anything." Malvan had not even moved his eyes from his small ledger he carried with him, leaving the tent and giving the weasel a short time to rest. Moran's eyes turned to that bushel, and after a swift and sudden moment he dove at it and collected a good amount. Raskar says he needed two an' more? Wells, I'll grab five an' more, eh! Moran pulled the apples into his pockets and began to eat the one he was to save for himself. He was tempted to just abandon Raskar's plan, and just eat as much as he could while he still could. I mean, they ain't gonna miss a couple o' apples.

Moran smirked as he bit deeply of the fruit, practically doubled over in ecstatic frenzy as he continued to bite down on the apple. He ate a lot of it, and then took another and began to bite into it as well. Moran had a plan to hide the apple cores at least, maybe one could tide him over, but the food was too good for him as he continued to eat and eat.

Moran had eaten three and a half apples and he still wasn't satisfied. He had to physically stop himself and back away with his small collection of apples. He exited the tent, looking about at soldiers to make sure he wasn't well noticed and marched his way in a stiff and unusual way towards the spot Raskar was waiting for him. He was worried when he didn't see Raskar behind one of the carts immediately, but he soon appeared once he noticed Moran waddling there with his pockets stuffed with apples. Raskar pulled the young weasel in, and looked like he was about to angrily scold him, but then he became darkly calm.

"Ya do well fer yerself, matey. Now. A bit too much for me liking, but I'll take whats ya got." Raskar took the apples and put them into a more hidden sack beneath his own clothes. It gave him a much bulkier appearance, something Moran thought was clever. Raskar could see Moran was coming out from starving and was licking his lips. The rat took one of the apples and tossed it to him lightly. "Fer yer troubles, bucko. We'll talk later o'course. Now scram befer ya get me into trouble."

Moran nodded and hurried along and put the apple at first into his pocket. His thoughts raced, knowing he needed to do a lot of things before Malvan got back and noticed. He had to hide the apple cores he produced, think of a nice excuse in case the hedgehog started to ask questions. Without even much thinking, his mind went from wandering to his pocket, and he pulled out the apple. He rushed back into the tent and was relieved no beast was inside as he sat on one of the crates and looked greedily at his prize. He took another bite, happy and smiling at long last being filled

Then he felt an angry paw grab onto his shoulder and forcibly turned him around. Moran dropped the apple and his eyes widened with terror and staring back at him was the cold and furious eyes of Gasger, gritting his teeth.

"Thief!"

Gasger had struggled with many disobedient beasts before, but none were as pathetic to him as Moran as he was grabbed by his paw and dragged along. Moran at first tried to be obedient and silent, but then he truly began to panic and beg. "Wait. Please! No! I'm sorry! Twas an' honest mistake!" The begging wasn't working as Moran soon felt a shadow of danger as his thoughts returned to him from the daze of hunger. He had privately scoffed to himself when Gasger cropped that fox's tail, mockingly thinking he deserved it for being caught. Now Moran was the one who was caught, as he desperately looked to any beast who would help him. The first to even noticed him was Raskar who gave the young weasel a frustrated and cringe look.

"I've had just about enough of your stinken brood! Come here, you wretch! You there, you two! Grab some rope and a stump! Hop to it!" Gasger pointed to two of the soldiers who quickly obeyed, knowing what was to come. Moran felt horrible, embarrassed as he was pulled further and further towards a clearing of Raman's camp. He pulled at his own arm, still begging Gasger to let him go. Gasger handed off the young weasel to a nearby soldier as he awaited his tools before Dapan and Martha rushed up to figure out what was happening. Dapan saw Moran, on the verge of tears and terrorized, and he immediately marched up to Gasger.

"Whats all dis den! I wanna kno—"

Dapan didn't get much time to answer before a couple of soldiers began to push him back. Dapan gave a pitied look to his son before Gasger spoke up to the gathering crowd of the soldiers and camp's serfs. "This vermin thief has stolen and eaten some of our rations! Rubbish and comfoundery!"

Gasger looked to the crowd before him, angrily huffing. "Malvan! Where is he."

"I'm here." Malvan yelled up in an annoyed huff, as he came through the lines. He was followed by another, as Gulan joined the quartermaster by his side. Malvan and Gulan turned to the ropes and small stump being placed on the ground, knowing what was going to happen and remained silent. Gasger formally inquired of Malvan "Quartermaster, as officer of the king's own army, I am to inform you that this wretched creature has stolen and eaten some of our provisions! I demand an accounting of what is lost exactly. I counted several cores of apples, and this thief redpawed eating upon this." Gasger held up the apple Moran had been eating and the weasel began to tear up, unable to say anything to defend himself. Malvan squinted his eyes at the apple and gaze a dark gaze to Moran. He would have continued in this mood, but he softened when he could see the state, he was in. As rude and obnoxious as the young teen was, he was red faced and stammering.

Gasger brought Malvan's attention back to him "Quartermaster, once I am done here, I demand you make a full recounting of our supplies. Formally, since I am the only witness to this, I can count on your to keep your report simple and clean on this travesty?"

Gulan's mood became much more serious as he questioned the hare "Travesty?"

Malvan peeped up, a bit uncertain "Erm, yes. Tragic to lose a few of our rations, sure, but Gasger. It was probably just a few apples? Is this all really necessary?"

Martha peeped up as well, wanting to head towards her boy to comfort him but was denied. "Please, he just be a dumb ol' beast ya know? Let me takes care of it. Bigfang, just apologize to dem, an' be quick about it." Martha sounded delusional, thinking this could be fixed in such a manner, but Gasger rolled his eyes.

"I didn't tolerate thievery in the army back home, I won't tolerate it here! The only punishment that is available for such action is the lash. Tie him up, remove the shirt first."

Dapan widened his eyes and moved forward, his voice cracking "Dat ain't needed!" Dapan then thought of something, desperate as he saw the eyes of his son widen in horror. "Der boy was followen an order from me! If yer gonna lash a beast, do it to me!"

Gasger grunted unamused "You are about as a terrible a liar as you are a worker, vermin. Get back."

"Gasger!" Gulan shouted, stepping in "It's just a few bleeding apples, twas a moment of weakness from that starvation order you put on him. Just extend it by a day and leave it be. This is cruelty, not discipline."

"You have no right to tell me what is cruel and what isn't" Gasger seethed, biting his lip "I will not be mocked by the likes of you, Gulan. I don't care if your brother was the bleeding king. This is standard practice, and the punishment is equal for my soldiers as it is for these pathetic, laboring, moronic cretans! Now stand aside." Gasger took from his belt a whip as Moran was led harshly by the soldiers to his fate. His shirt was taken from him until his back was fully exposed and was tied in a way as he was forced to kneel. He cried, begged, and weeped as his mother tried desperately to get through the soldiers blocking her.

Gasger was about ready, lifting his paw as Dapan and Gulan yelled in unison at him, but another voice shouted out over them all "Enough!"

The whole group fell silent as Gasger put down his paw holding his lash as Raman Coastlord stepped out of his command tent and approached at a slow pace. Moran looked, seeing the otter approach Gasger and Gulan with his paws behind his back. Gasger continued to seethe, believing Raman had come out for only one reason "Sir, this thing stole our food, and it will do so again! I won't let this go, I'll—"

Raman extended his paw to Gasger, and gave motion to him. Gasger paused and sighed, giving the lash over to Raman as Gulan approached. A harsh stare from Raman got Gulan to frown and back off, knowing nothing he could say would stop what was to happen. Yet, Dapan tried. He harshly pushed past the soldiers, getting in front of his son, begging with a bent back "Dis ain't right, otter. Please, not him. If ya want, just do it to me. I'll do anyding, just don't. . ."

Raman coldly remarked "This is going to happen regardless of your begging, serf. If you don't get out of the way, you'll share the equal number of lashes in solidarity. Now move." Dapan realized there was nothing he could do and stood aside in defeat. Moran gave a frightened look to his father who could only give him a pitied one back. Martha continued to shout, increasing in voice and desperation for her son's health "Please! He ain't got der heart fer it! Please!" Martha wept as Dapan came over to her and joined the crowd. He embraced her, holding her back like a wall as Raman addressed the crowd.

"Thievery in this army is punishable by five lashes. I will not tolerate crime amongst soldiers, and certainly not amongst these new serfs. You came to use as thieves and bandits, and you will under threat and punishment learn to reject these stupid ideals. Any further transgressions will be met with the same fate, a fair fate, the same one I will give to any soldier who steals from the army for their own gain."

Moran closed his eyes and so did Dapan. The crack was followed by a painful, earth shattering scream.

It was night out in Palewind, but more then just night it was stormy out. The heavens opened the flood gates upon the ground, and lightning struck out in the distance followed by rolls of thunder. Yet, two beasts stood partly outside in the rain and mud, kept dry by a small flap of a tent cover. One beast's wails and weeping had only just partly begun to die.

Dapan was aware of the terrorizing power of a lash mark, how it could rend. He was never personally lashed himself, but he knew plenty of beasts who were. Dapan sat outside of the tent, holding his weeping son who continued to cry into the night.

"I wanna go home! Pa, I wanna go home!" Moran repeated over and over. His back still stung, the five marks only beginning to heal, but not enough for him to be able to rest or recover in full. He had been such a mess that the other vermin complained of booting him out of their barracks. Martha had at first volunteered, her actions were desperate and silent. Gulan had guided her and Moran to the camp's medic once all was said and done, who treated the wounds and wrapped his body. Yet, trauma like what the younger weasel had borne witness to was not something that medic could fix. Dapan could see how Martha was broken apart by what happened, she barely let go of her son, but worse yet his younger children had borne witness to this tragedy. Zadan and Mia ended up crying as well, not fully in solidarity for their older brother, but now deathly feared what happened to him could also happen to them. The thought was infective, as was intended by such a show of brutal discipline.

Moran eventually silenced himself from his mad rambling, having laid in his father's lap as he sniffed and cried. Dapan only held his son close, unsure of what to even tell him to comfort him. He was unaware of another beast who watched and pitied them, this beast soon made his way to the tent of Captain Raman whose light in his dwelling was still lit.

Raman was reading a rather interesting book, it was the required reading of the expedition, printed freshly in printing presses in his home country. It was a manuel on the culture and tactics of the vermin, written by Shackleford.

Raman spied a couple passages which amused him.

'To the certain aspects of vermin culture, one observation that one can note with ease is the cultural aspect of trickery, deceit, and espionage. Although on some basic level, the vermin can 'tell the truth' as such as being the 'sky is blue' or 'the birds can fly', they are on a cultural level obsessed with lies. Nothing vermin can say can be taken without a grain of salt, as they view the truth and honesty as concepts of weakness which needs to be stamped out. The Vermin are self-serving as I have proven in previous chapters, thus it is easy to say that vermin will lie about troop movements to get a nice rest. Therefore, they are incapable of scouting. . ."

Raman scoffed.

Everything he read about the vermin made them out as a pathetic threat. The reality was different, as he didn't really see them as a threat. Raman made his notes, taking all things he was learning with considerations. He marked various parts of the books he was reading but was interrupted when he heard the flap of the tent open and he spotted a fellow otter standing there shaking off his cloak and fur. Raman gave his brother a bored look and returned to his reading.

"Raman." Gulan said, holding back a hint of anger "We have to talk."

"About what." Raman said with a cold tone. The usually upbeat Gulan growled out, anger in his voice "Can you not have that tone, you insufferable creature of habit?! Raman, what you allowed to happen was cruel. No. Not even cruel. It was evil! That boy did not deserve that, and you know it."

Raman looked only partly up from his studies and gave a low grunt to his brother's zeal "That thing stole our food, Gulan. If I had done it, I would be getting lashes as well. Yet, difference is, I didn't do it."

Gulan angrily gritted his fangs, the young of the two brothers angrily confronting the eldest with a fiery spite "That creature was barely older then a boy, Raman."

"It's a vermin." Raman icily corrected. "Then it's a bleeding vermin boy, what kind of difference does it make!"

"Because Gulan, they are the enemy." Raman said, rolling his eyes "These aren't beasts who are like us, they don't value any form of good, honest work. They are bandits, extorters, and con artists all. The more common ones are murderers and slave mongers. Gulan, if we are on our original mission, we would be killing that family or driving them off, because they are little more than parasites on this land. We are teaching them through the means they only will listen to, harsh as it may be. Don't act like he was blameless."

Gulan paced and growled "Blameless for wanting to eat, tinkle fur?"

Raman groaned at that cringy nickname "Oh by the seasons, Gulan. Can you please not?"

"I ain't done with this at all, cause its bad enough we treat these beasts poorly as it is." Gulan grumbled "Gasger had that poor beast starving, starving enough to want to dive into eating. Honestly, so what?"

Raman growled out; his tone raised to be a bit more threatening "So what? Look Gulan, you may have had dad buy your way into this army, skipping over all the whistles and bells so you could get a comfy position as an officer, but this isn't some nice comfy place for you to sight see. I had to go through all of it, Gulan. My drill sergeant threatened me with the lash, and I snapped out of my arrogant stupor to serve Southsward. You wanted me to bring that family here, so now you got your wish."

Gulan frowned as Raman began to piece two and two together on what Gulan was more upset about. The captain looked into his brother's eyes, a mix of embarrassment and regret still flooded him.

"Raman. He seems like a nice lad, reminds me of me." Gulan admitted. "At least have Gasger remove those harsh ration restrictions."

"No." Raman boringly responded, closing his book "Moran has three more days left to learn that lesson of speaking back to superior officers. I trust Gasger with these details. He will continue to work under Malvan, but under stricter watch until he can be trusted again."

Gulan continued to frown, and shook his head "You'd think the lashes are enough."

"That was for stealing alone. If he improves, which considering his kin is going to be hard for me to accept he ever will, then I might consider loosening him from further restrictions. If he is smart, he won't cause further trouble. Now is that all? I got a lot reading to do, Gulan."

Gulan didn't dignify his brother with a salute, and sadly left his tent. Despite his nature, he felt too much of a coward to stand up to his brother. Once he had left, Raman's face began to soften. He'll come around. Eventually.