Chapter 55: Occupation
It had been barely a day and Marthomis was sleepless. If it wasn't the dismayed yelps of poor vermin and woodlander captives outside his new room, it was the constant marching of soldiers in his courtyard. In time, Marthomis slowly began to head down towards the Great Hall, shuffling about in a hollow manner. He had wished deeply that his mentor, the previous abbot, was here to take command from him. He'd have given his very soul for someone else to deal with the burdens heaped onto him now, especially in his old age. The old dormouse looked out the windows of the abbey, in silent and cold dismay over the abomination being set up in his home.
Cruel and filled gallows could be seen, the silent and swaying form of prisoners of the Great Vermin Band who refused to bend their knee to Frankfort were now slowly being let down to be buried. A large number of tents were being set up, their bright colors were gilded to what he saw in the strangers. It was nightmarish to think that woodlanders could do such cruelties as he watched one of the overseers of the camp kick down a rat trying to set up one of the tents, unsatisfied with his speed. Marthomis forced himself to continue downward towards the Great Hall, passing by soldiers and camp followers.
Marthomis entered the hall, having not seen a fellow Redwaller since getting up. Most were under strict watch of the soldiers, while others were taken away and locked in the cellar, rooms, or their studies. Stenna's job was taken over by some of the captains, who were quite unkind in their discipline. He would have been thankful to know Snot Butkan was safe, had he not been told it was his own recorder who nearly brought the poor youngster into danger. He found himself alone in the hall, looking up at the image of Martin upon the tapestry.
"Martin–" He began, stopping before gulping. He wanted to imagine the mouse warrior awaiting his report, and that the image would have some sympathy for him.
"Martin, help us. Help me to understand what is going on, and to preserve us. I hope you find Naus, good friend. Find him, tell him I am so sorry." Marthomis sniffed at the thought of the brave hare who had perished in his infirmary along with so many injured and helpless warriors. He had heard all he needed to know from those who witnessed the event, and even then he tried to block the image out of his mind.
"Abbot Marthomis." A deep mouse's voice called. Marthomis opened his eyes in surprise, looking first up at the image of Martin, but then the voice called again behind him.
"Good morning, good sir."
Marthomis slowly turned to see the smiling face of Eskert striding in from the outside, closing the door gently behind him. Marthomis's hopes were dashed, the abbot giving the mouse a somewhat fearful look, trying to hold back disgust. It was a fresh memory of what Eskert and Borbon had done in his abbey, defiling its ground with their dark deeds. Yet, he sighed, and nodded his head.
"Morning. I take it you are looking for our mess hall?"
"No, I am not hungry." Eskert strode up to him, the smaller beast smiling as he looked up at Martin. Eskert looked proud, a fact which disturbed the older mouse. How can this creature be proud of what he did? Eskert spoke up, in admiration of his fellow mouse.
"I do not think you remember me, abbot. Me and my family came here some time ago, I don't even remember when. You should have seen my little ones, if you hadn't, how happy they were looking up at such an image! The stories I told them, abbot. A fine thing to remember."
Marthomis did not remember him, it was always hard to remember all the beasts who came through the walls of Redwall on feast days or festivals. Marthomis gave Eskert a strange look, although he quickly gave a warm smile in order to keep some semblance of respect. "I cannot say I do remember, many faces have come and gone here."
"Many faces, but few are so noteworthy." Eskert jokingly chided
"Indeed."
"Abbot, you seem rather gloomy this morning." Eskert noted. Marthomis could now see his general attitude towards the mouse was not hiding his discontent. Marthomis breathed through his nostrils "Gloomy does not cut it I am afraid, much has been done in and outside this abbey. War burns my country, and the homes of those I so love."
"Soon enough, good Abbot, none of it shall burn no more."
Marthomis gave him a much stranger look before Eskert came forward, turning to Marthomis and his back to the image of the legendary warrior. Eskert smiled "Abbot Marthomis, do you not recognize me then?"
"I see a mouse."
"You should be seeing a warrior." Eskert seemed to be holding back a childish glee, as if waiting for his 'gotcha' moment for the abbot. Yet, it did not come. Marthomis stood there dumbly as Eskert frowned and explained.
"Is it not true that one of the signs of a coming warrior of Redwall, a bringer of justice and avatar for Martin is that he appears to many speaking riddles in dreams?"
Marthomis paused for a moment. Is he trying to claim to be him? The thought did cross his mind once, but seeing him standing the way he was, awkwardly trying to gain some semblance of legitimacy made Marthomis a bit sick. It was a bit too much to bear at this point. The murders, the abuse, the defilement of his abbey and now one of the proponents of this evil was claiming to be Martin's chosen one? It was almost absurd, if not downright comedic in such a sense.
"In a sense? Not always however."
"Not always." Eskert gave a friendly scoff as he smiled, keeping his eyes fixed upon the tapestry which hung far above his head. Marthomis was an adult, and so was Eskert, but Eskert was also shorter than any mouse he had known. Yet, for a creature so small, he radiated with intimidation as Marthomis had come to know his deeds in grander detail. Marthomis spoke in a calm and cautious voice.
"Eskert, is it? You come to have a good view of Martin upon the tapestry." Marthomis tried to choose his words carefully, almost stumbling in a way "Many beasts have dreams, but not all point to inspiration from Martin. Matthias had prophetic dreams, and so did Jue when he began to have them. Yet, so did my mentor and previous abbot of Redwall, Bollo and Kalma. Not all dreams are good either, some can be quite uncomfortable. Nightmarish you may even say."
Eskert was unphased, speaking in a higher tone "The only real nightmare, abbot, is the reality we live in now. One for which the Vermin do terrible things to our people, and Martin and the spirit of the seasons stand against their dark taint." Eskert kept smiling, and Marthomis couldn't help but feel worried. He was unsure if the mouse was genuinely smiling, or smirking in a way for which he was folding a trap upon him, to drag him outside and end him as well.
"I saw Martin, gleaming in armor, I saw him as he was. A mouse, shining like a star before me. He held the sword, my sword, the sword of all the great warriors of the abbey in his paw but told me it was hidden in someplace. He told me it was missing. I was hoping you would have a clue where to find it."
"It is with its owner, Eskert. With Jue." The abbot said coldly. Eskert frowned and nodded "Yes, Jue. You know where he is then, abbot?"
"He is–" Marthomis stopped, knowing a painful truth and shook his head "I wish I knew. Only the Companions knew of his last whereabouts, and they have chosen their path in life poorly."
"Poorly?"
Marthomis gave Eskert a weird look, wondering how much he actually knew. Eskert gave the abbot an equal confused look back at him and huffed "I do not like these riddles, Abbot."
"Neither do I."
"I shall ask Jue's friends then, I know you have troubles with me, but know in time you will see the light for which I am fighting for, Abbot." Eskert suddenly said. "I know you asked us, me, to not 'defile' this abbey with blood, and for that I must apologize. Lufan was a former friend turned traitor. His passage to the Black Forest could not wait." Eskert looked at Martin again, standing valiantly as vermin fled in all directions from him, as they should have. Eskert looked at his eyes, squinting at them. He asked "Abbot Marthomis, Martin's eyes? They are not red."
"Red?"
"Nay, in my dream. His eyes were clearly red. Was the tapestry damaged?"
"Not to my awareness?" Marthomis said, a bit baffled. Eskert only shrugged and gave a humble nod to Marthomis. He smiled and marched further inside the abbey. Marthomis only frowned and turned Martin's image, double checking to make sure they were indeed not red.
_
Eskert kept up a genuine smile, one which he felt good to not be forced as he talked and his companion listened. His squires, Pelo and Tera, he had ordered to set up his tent, and he felt relieved to know that their servant Dangan was just doing literally anything else. Loy was this companion which Eskert dragged along like a curious youngster, taking in the sights and sounds of the abbey, keeping his ear open to Eskert's explanations.
"And here are the main apartments for monks, Loy. My little ones used to get in all kinds of trouble, I had to gather them up with my Elain after they found a means inside. Found them all snuggled up in this room! Or it was maybe that one?" Eskert couldn't remember, looking at the invisible ghosts as his head moved to the ground, trying to remember seeing them trying to avoid his grasp. It was so long ago, he remembered the details, but not the faces. Loy nodded "I wish we came here under different circumstances, Eskert. Pa used to talk all about his trip to the abbey with Bollo. I haven't seen him, you know where he is?"
"Speaking to his daughter I think." Eskert frowned, annoyed by such a thought. "I would not speak too much on it, Loy. What we did–"
"I understand it, Eskert." Loy's voice was sad "I understand it, I just don't know if I can agree fully on it. They were traitors, Borbon and you tell me so, but yet Lufan–"
"He was a friend before his corruption." Eskert explained "He was a good one at that, and I wished he had continued to be that. He and I met here for the first time a long time ago, did you know? He wasn't my neighbor then, he was poorer then. Yet, he said he came for the good drink. He was so consumed in his hate for what I have done, that even when offered mercy, he spat in our face. The beast I put down was not Lufan, at least he wasn't anymore."
Loy was unsure what to think, for it made some sense to him. Eskert explained his treachery, just as he explained Mela's betrayal. Loy felt somewhat blessed to know Mela had joined his vile captors, for it made Lufan's betrayal a bit harder to swallow. Yet he couldn't help but feel saddened by it.
"Loy, know I do not regret what I did, but where I did it." Eskert spoke up, stopping their tour and giving a calm glance to his compatriot "The abbot asked us to do it at least outside, spilling blood, even enemy blood upon the ground here. It was wrong."
"I know." Loy nodded "L-let's not speak more of it. It hurts both my mind and heart." Eskert agreed, although his tour became silent as he led Loy onward, towards the cellars. Loy asked "Not to be a bummer Eskert, but why are we going into the basement? We still haven't explored the Great Hall yet."
"You'll have plenty of time to explore Martin's Tapestry, youngster. There are few creatures I need to ask something of first."
The two marched into a somewhat crowded cellar room below the Great Hall. The main hallway was tight and damp, but four Southward guards casually sat or stood, saluting the two as they came near. The captain of these guards looked up with interest at Eskert as Loy looked at the storage rooms which were made into makeshift cells. Eskert greeted the captain with a friendly tone "Morning, I wished to see the prisoners."
"Ummm, for what reason?" The captain asked. Eskert spoke again, but this time more firmly "As Frankfort's champion, I need no reason. There are two good beasts in that cell." He pointed to the cell door on the right, one which had temporarily once held Lufan and Siegfried, but now held a mole and a hedgehog. The captain nodded and motioned his guard, flipping through old keys and opening the door. Loy was unsure what Eskert intended, as he motioned Loy to join him as they walked on in.
Kalma and Bollo were sitting up against the wall and swiftly arose, being cleaner than Loy expected. The two had amenities strewn about, a plate of food in one corner and a bathing tub in another. Fresh clothes and a table could be seen as Loy looked about. Had it not been for the locked door, Loy would have guessed they had been middling guests. Bollo squinted his eyes, at Eskert in particular and his mood darkened as he folded his paws.
"Bollo and Kalma, friends of Jue the Warrior." Eskert greeted them. Eskert was flanked by Loy and an armed guard who stood at attention. Kalma only blinked and Bollo spoke in a gruff, old speech "Whuy yuo wunt? I hupe nut to drug us uot to meut dur sume fute as thuse uthor puor fulks."
"Nothing of the sort." Eskert frowned. Loy folded his paws as well, not at all impressed. "Speak in kindness, we came to save you from the vermin."
"By murdering our hares?" Kalma said in a sudden and venomous tone. Eskert raised his paw, ordering all to be silent "Enough, are we children? Vermin even? We will speak in kind words and without threats. I am only here to ask questions. Being Jue's companions, I had been hoping to find him. The abbott tells me he is missing? That perhaps the companions know where they are?"
"You don't know?" Kalma was surprised, looking at Bollo who only looked back at her. They turned to Eskert whom they knew was not joking, giving them a rather dramatic frown. "My friund Jue husn't beun seun fur a lung tume. If anyune knuw whure he hud gune, it would huve buen Husam and hus wrutched kund."
"Hasam? He is one of the Companions then?" Eskert asked, not caught up on such lore. Kalma then explained "Yes, Hasam, Malgor, and Vogar. Only Hesam and Vogar were here. They betrayed us, attacking us in the night and opening the doors for the vermin. Last we saw them, they were in the vermin camp."
Eskert said nothing, only keeping his solemn look as Loy spoke up "These traitors, they were companion of Jue?"
Bollo sighed "Aye. Duy wure."
"Jue, is he dead then?" Eskert asked in concern. Bollo only shrugged "Jue auin't no buest to go duwn without a fught, Husam struggled evun agunst me whun we fought, an I aun't dur smull lud I used to be. We nuver found him, if he be sumewhure, it aiun't anywhure nuarby."
Eskert and Loy exchanged looks, neither unsure what to make of it. They began to ask questions about Jue. Eskert's mind raced with unfortunate thoughts, but then his mind raced with explanations. Eskert then asked "And Martin's Sword, is that missing as well?"
"Yes, sadly. When Jue and the Companions went out into Mossflower proper and didn't come back, the sword went missing with him."
"Do you think the Companions killed him?"
Bollo stood still for a moment and thought, before shaking his head "If duy intunded, dur wurn't much reusan fur it. Nut unless dur villains wure rot bruined. Duy wure parasites, fuasting on Jue's gluries luke the luech spuwn thuy ure! Yut whun thuy ruturned, thuy lud the suarch, and the swurd nuver appeured in thuir pussession. Jue was no fuol with the swurd eithur, even if all three trued to kull hum at unce, thuy would huve hud quite a fught, and nune of thum cume back with uven a scrutch."
"You are confident of this?" Eskert asked, and the mole nodded. Bollo had a realization however as he looked at Eskert, of his question about the sword. The mole squinted his eyes in anger "Yuo gut an intention fur Jue dun?"
"To recruit him, there is a great number of things me and him will discuss, and nothing more." Eskert said with a smile. Kalma rolled her eyes "As if Jue would join you circus clowns."
"Be angry with us for a time being, but that decision is not up to any of you. As fellow Woodlanders, you know the threats we face. Would have you preferred the vermin breaching into the abbey and murder all you hold dear? I live outside these walls, in lands wandered by them, and all of whom I knew perished at their paw. We are fighting a future without that, to never happen again, and to punish those who had secretly aided them."
"Dun't ya thunk we are guing to go alung with such thungs, espucially wuth the wuy you truat the fulk here."
"I know, which is why I want to make an offer to the both of you." Kalma and Bollo listened as Eskert tried to be chummy with them "I am the next warrior of Redwall, that is simply a fact, and as the friends and companions of my predecessor, it cannot be stated how embarrassing it is to keep you both locked away down here. Under my order, I am willing to allow your freedom, under the condition that you do not cause trouble and submit to the law of Southward and this camp."
"You? The Warrior of Redwall?" Kalma almost sounded insulted as Loy tried to act diplomatic "Even if you do not believe Eskert, we are all woodlanders here. We offer freedom, not captivity. All we ask in return is stability and no funny business."
"Nu funny businuss." Bollo thought it over and put his lip to the side. He grunted "Deul."
Kalma looked to her friend in surprise, and spoke up "Bollo?"
"Kulma, thuy arun't askun us to agrue wuth thum, an' just so yuo knuw mouse, yuo culling yoursulf our warriur is an insult to me, un any guod buast here. But we wun't cause you trouble."
Kalma sighed and nodded her head. Eskert frowned a bit "Understandable I suppose, but in time, you will see we are right, and I will not hold it against the friends of Jue the Warrior. Thank you for your information." Eskert motioned them to the door and the two former heroes walked out and waddled towards the stairs. Kalma whispered to Bollo "Okay, why'd you really take that accursed deal, Bollo?"
Bollo hushed her and looked behind them, seeing a guard slowly and not so subtly trying to keep a good watch on them. Bollo quickened his movement and whispered back "Cun't du anythun frum in dur, but we cun do alut frum out hure."
_
The door opened as Garfan peered at the light from outside flooding into the storage, once used to store his least favorite cordial and now it became his new home. Garfan was not rid of his armor, and weakly growled at the approaching beasts coming inside. He was not the only prisoner here, next to him, standing up and towering over the others was Stenna who had been biding her time. Two Southward beasts held spears up at her and looked frightened, with even the movement of the badger's eyes making them wince and lower ears.
Garfan looked at the other figure, a ferret who had his paws shackled at the wrists and ankles. He looked afraid, although he felt calm when he saw Loy in his yellow uniform come into the room. Yet, that smile quickly disappeared upon seeing Eskert who glanced a dangerous look at him and he quickly began to back up into a corner. Garfan didn't learn the ferret's name, he didn't care, they were all vermin to him anyway. Yet, the old warrior stood, helped by a soldier as Eskert stood before him.
"You are the guard captain of Redwall, are you not?" Eskert asked. Garfan didn't answer as Eskert felt like he waited for an overly long time as a silence fell into the room. He asked again "Garfan, please, for your sake and ours I demand an answer. As a fellow mouse and woodlander, do have some comradery."
"I had comrades, you short degenerate, and you bleeding killed them." Garfan spat. He nursed his paw, missing a few fingers. Eskert didn't respond, although he could tell Loy was holding back his own words. Eskert became pushy "Your comrades had sicked the vermin on this abbey, warrior. We are freeing you of their influence. Believe it or not, it no longer matters, since they are either fleeing back into the paws of their master or are being buried outside."
Garfan squinted his eyes and grinded his teeth, clearly becoming angry but not wishing to move in a way to upset the mouse. Stenna harrumphed, unconcerned with the soldiers in front of her pointing their spears upward to her "You creatures and your mad ideals. I have a good mind to throw the lot of you over the walls!"
Eskert turned to her next, and wondered if Shackleford was right. The sudden seeking of violence, it was no woodlander trait, but he never witnessed or heard a badger not use such threats. He was still unsure what to even think about it, other than he had to believe it. Getting used to thinking these once noble creatures were vermin, dubious and having an inherent desire to deceive and dominate made the mouse awkward. Yet, one of the annoyed guard made a comment, speaking for Eskert.
"You'd sooner be hanged for even trying, vermin."
Stenna grew silent, and then her eyes grew wide and spoke in a firm voice, angry and baffled "What did you just call me? Are you perhaps blind, or have worms crawling in your brain!?"
The ferret gave a low chuckle, as if unable to help himself "Oh, didn't you hear, yer folk are now vermin like me."
"You will be silent, vermin." Eskert turned to him, and he grew silent. Stenna's anger was quite clear on her face, making the soldier who had spoken up suddenly and slowly try to slink towards the door. Stenna put her paws to the side, chiding them "Cowards and villains all of you. You are all acting as if you were Kasg's strongest warriors!"
Loy grew angry at the badger upon hearing her insult "You don't get to speak of them in comparison to us! I was their prisoner, and these brave beasts saved me from them."
Stenna only huffed at him "I was a prisoner of the blackclad horde as well, water dog, and the beasts your friends murdered had rescued me from his camp long ago before coming here." Loy's brave words suddenly drew a silence from him as Stenna's dark eyes peered at him in particular.
"If you two were wise, you'd then join us. We fight the vermin, and you two continue to be bothersome to my lord. If perha–"
"Listen here you short fool." Garfan growled at him, at first coming close but was held back when one of the soldiers wheeled his spear to him which caused him to stop "I would rather burn in a fire than join with your murderous lot. Calling our badger mum a vermin? Treating our home like your personal fortress!? Murdering our friends and comrades as you sully our sacred ground! If I still had a weapon, I'd be putting it straight through that hollowed out, maggot infested mind of yours."
Eskert breathed in and out as he and Garfan stared at one another as Eskert dropped the act of his reasonable persona, his voice etched in grumbling anger "And I would be careful what you say next, soldier. Lest I take up word to Prince Frankfort as to why you and the otter chief allowed vermin into this sacred and holy ground."
"Get out." Stenna spoke, holding but a barking order. Garfan didn't back down, his mind made up in his spite for Eskert with the mention of his perished friend. Eskert turned to leave, but Loy grabbed his shoulder, pointing to the ferret sitting down and watching amused at the infighting. Eskert stared at him, and then back at Loy, silently begging him to leave it alone. Yet, the persistence was clear, and he sighed.
Iscal had been a silent prisoner, bound by the ankles in chains, he bore witness to the strangest of things. Beasts who'd he avoid for their sheer intimidation kept heads low to fat hares? Foxes with cropped tails, rats with missing paw fingers? Had it not been for the bright yellow colors of the army Iscal swore he was in a vermin horde. The otter whom he had saved approached, and motioned for him to stand. Iscal did so, although he kept a good distance from him. He still kept his dirty vermin shirt on him, some form of dignity at least, and he had avoided being treated like the other vermin of the camp.
This naturally made him concerned.
"Your name, you told a soldier your name is Iscal?"
He nodded as Loy nodded back "Again, I owe you for saving my life. You were conscripted into Nurf's horde. The council had a mind to execute you, but me and Borbon stayed that sentence on the account of your good deed."
Iscal blinked and nodded "Thank, though as I keep tellen ya folk, I ain't even wit dat fox. That wretched cretan, der one ya called Jano, pushed me into dat lair."
Eskert intervened "And you did nothing to help your own condition, in time you'd have been no less evil than others there."
"I mean, I tried to escape?" Iscal tried to respond, but Loy interrupted him "I also asked the council to show leniency, they agreed that you are not as tainted as others have been. I ask you to join our righteous cause, Iscal."
Iscal paused and frowned, shaking his head in a clear disgust "Oh, don't get me wrong, water dog. I know what ya mean, an' it ain't marchen in der army. Ya want to put me in der yella soft clothes an' have me work in der camp. I've seen how dem folk are treated, an I think I am fine bein here an–"
Eskert came forward, his cold eyes made the ferret become silent as he spoke more firmly, subtly but clearly "Perhaps you misunderstand, vermin. You were a part of Nurf's band, in that way you are tainted. Saving Loy's life is a prerequisite to not being deemed as evil or as vile as Nurf's murderous band, the same band who murdered my wife and children. Are you saying you are rejecting joining this good cause and redeeming yourself further?" Iscal gulped, looking at Loy who didn't seem to get the implication, but he could correctly guess that denying his willful enslavement would mean a trip to the Black Forest.
"Y-yes, right." Iscal gave a great smile "I changed me mind, I'll join ya, I mean, thanks an' yer good people an–" Iscal didn't finish his sentence as Eskert rolled his eyes and snapped at a guard, commanding him "Send this one to Kelsum's division, tell him he has a new serf."
"You won't regret this, Iscal." Loy promised. Iscal didn't speak back, his fake smile disappearing from sight as he was grabbed by the gruff of his neck and marched out of the room. Eskert was annoyed, but hid his spite from Loy to the best of his ability.
Loy was heading towards the door, before he too was stopped by his paw being grabbed by Eskert. He stopped and turned, at first confused until Eskert spoke in an awkward tone "I nearly forgot, you remember that squirrel's request?"
"Oh, right."
Eskert and Loy turned to Stenna as Eskert tried to phrase a question he had nearly forgotten about, one which he felt odd for even asking.
"Do you happen, erm, to know where this 'Snot' is?"
Stenna was surprised and then horrified to hear the name, but kept her calm "No."
"No as in you don't know, or no as in like 'no'?" Loy said, although cringed once realizing how poorly he said it. Stenna replied only with "I know whom he is, but he hasn't been seen. Likely somewhere in the forests." Stenna truthfully had no clue where Snot was, and the thought crossed her mind. He may have been vermin, a rude brat, but he was also a youngster to her. Yet, Eskert sighed "Ah, so you are lying then."
"How do you know, you wannabe bilge rat?"
Eskert grunted at the insult "Because, vermin lie to protect vermin." Eskert held back a smirk, which only infuriated the badger more. He became more serious "Also because your recorder is very certain this vermin spy is around here, and I would kindly ask you to aid us in finding them. I am told he is a younger vermin, and spy or not, the army does not wish them harm for not knowing better. The longer that beast hides, the more danger they are in."
Stenna pointed to the door "Leave us. I have no desire to help slavers and murderers. Even if I knew where that fool beast is, not even if you threatened to throw me into the pits of hell would I tell you a blasted thing."
"Depending on the mercy of my lord, that can be arranged." Eskert's warning rang as the last word as he marched out with Loy, leaving Garfan and Stenna in the darkness of their room. Loy frowned, asking Eskert "I hope you didn't mean such words, friend."
"I don't normally, but these are abnormal times. They will come around to proper thinking for their sake, Loy."
_
Outside in the main grounds of the abbey, evening brunch was served in the tents of the Southward troops. Eskert and Loy found the outside less depressing than inside the abbey where others were hiding or getting used to their new way of life as Frankfort's wards. Eskert smelled the air, the fine and sweet smell of cream and cinnamon nearly pulling him to the ground with relief. The two wandered about the camp as Loy looked around, the vast rows of tents of pavilions upon the abbey's lawn had choked out the greenery. Wagons were piled neatly in one corner, as serfs went about the business of handling the army's complex logistics.
Eskert spied near the gate his friend Borbon, sitting on a box next to a badger who was only somewhat familiar to him. It was the badger ally who had executed Numbat at Palewind. He had been a silent creature, having kept himself in the safer part of the battle during the destruction of the vermin siege. Borbon suddenly burst out laughing, and the badger smiled.
The two approached as Balon grew silent as Borbon motioned Loy over "Oi! Luy, cume hure fur a mument. Huve yuo mut Balun yut?"
"Not personally, Borbon."
Borbon over waved partly at them, although Eskert kept his distance and didn't at all look friendly. Balon could guess why, but with Borbon being so comfortable with him, Eskert drew a bit closer even if cautiously. Eskert asked "You two are friends?"
"Friunds? Mure luke aquintunces. Balun hure wus Numbut's captuin, until he kulled dur bugger." Eskert looked at Balon who only nodded. Balon explained "I was just telling Borbon here all the ins and outs of the Long Patrol, all the little secrets he was not privy to."
"Secrets?" Loy asked.
"Secruts un' sturies. Wur sturies."
Balon smiled, giving a friendly huff "War stories indeed. We were discussing the past mostly. Before all this." Balon had a hint of nostalgia in his voice, one which made the mouse lift and eyebrow to.
"I remember the first days you came down south, Borbon, I was not even an officer then. Gandal was on the run, the horde freshly defeated, Barfoof chasing the rest of Kasg's degenerated barbarians back to the abyss. It is said to know the true rot which laid in the Long Patrol, Borbon. Had I known sooner, I'd have done something about it."
Loy frowned "You were aware of it?"
No, he wasn't.
Unaware to those around him, Balon kept up a smile and spoke as if telling some tall tale, with a form of confidence that required him to pause to make sure the story was kept straight. For him, no, he was not aware of something which did not exist. Yet, Balon had kept up the depressed spirit of Borbon, down on his luck. He at least was familiar amongst this crowd, and both had never spoken ill to one another in all the seasons they had known.
"I was not, young otter." Balon said in a sad tone, one which he thought matched the mask of his regret "I was not aware of it, even though the signs were there. The hares as you know are not vermin, but my family back in the mountain can be quite strong willed and had a hidden intent. I suppose knowing they had hired vermin agents makes sense, makes more sense why we couldn't kick Gandal from the land."
"It dues muke a lut of sunse, and I hute thut I hud nut suen it eurlier." Borbon's voice edged on hate. Numbat was dead, but if the mole could, Balon was certain he would strangle and shake his corpse if not his spirit. Balon pitied the mole in some ways, an angry and spiteful fool he may have been, but he still felt he had some manner of good in his heart. Though, it was clear with the way the mole acted and spoke, getting his daughter to see that it was a massive mountain for him to climb.
"Regardless, it is good to meet you Balon." Eskert nodded to him, and Balon nodded back with a smile. Balon listened intently to the group talk, how Eskert and Borbon discussed their findings as Loy listened intently. Their conversation was of interest to him at first, until he looked on towards Redwall's door.
Two soldiers carried a hero out, covered in yellow cloth, lightly bloodied and with two still ears flopped out of it.
A limp arm came out of it, but the soldiers who were still bringing out bodies from the abbey didn't seem to even care anymore. He could tell from the cuffs the body had on whom it was, and Balon's once indomitable mask began to slip. He stared at it, as if trying to see who was beneath the sheet as the group went towards the door. Naus was always an arrogant hare, but none could deny his bravery and compassion. He and Naus exchanged kind words a long time ago, Numbat spoke so highly of the Stag Hare's scion that he felt unease in his yellow garb.
Balon felt a hollowness looking at them, he felt empty to see the body so undignified as it was stolen away to some mass grave somewhere to be never spoken of again, but at least Naus would be buried with his beloved hares.
He wondered if Shackleford was truly right, not about betrayal, but his people being reformed vermin. Cowardice was a characteristic of all vermin, they fled at the sight of even mice, and only acted as warriors in great numbers. He wondered what his father would say. Hells, what would mothers say!? Let alone my cousin. He thought of his distant kin, Galgor the mighty and great leader. The light against the shadow that was Kasg. He thought of his bickering sons, all of whom were far better than him in some way. The brat who lived as an overglorified overseer, the glory seeker with his wild hares, the wandering adventurer banished in all but name. Yet him?
"Balon."
Balon turned, snapping back to attention as Eskert looked at him, curious to what he had been doing. "You okay, badger?"
"I am, just distracted is all."
Eskert nodded and spoke up "Well, are you coming then?"
Balon blinked and spoke honestly "I am sorry, I was not paying attention. You are inviting me to something?"
"Aye, lud." Borbon chuckled "Wure guin to fund Martun's swurd." Borbon got down, a bit jovial in getting to move again. Balon stood as Eskert nodded to him "We wanted to begin in the outer villages, we need to discover the trail of the old hunt for Jue. If we start now, we can hopefully be back by mid morning."
Balon didn't know what was going on, and eagerly agreed.
Naus was dead. Numbat was dead.
Balon would not die, not here anyway. He could give those ghosts room in his dreams if they wanted as Balon lifted a massive sword over his shoulder "You lead the way."
"Glud yur cumon on wut us, Balun. Yur in butter puws nuw." Borbon gave a friend a smile and led the group towards the door. Balon turned to Eskert as he awaited Loy to catch up to Borbon, the two excited to be out and about in Mossflower.
"Are you sure you will be okay, badger?" Eskert asked, with concern.
"I will be. Not now, but I will be." Balon answered. Eskert accepted the answer, the two talked in friendly terms, disappearing past the main opened gates of the abbey for the time being.
Marthomis didn't wish to move forward as he winced upon hearing the loud crack of stone and the soft moving of dirt. In the distance was a graveyard, but not a normal one by any means. He kept his paws hidden in his robe as he walked out of the gates of Redwall and towards the forest, his companion a Southward guard who was both his warden and helper. Marthomis was angry when he first heard what was happening this morning, even if it made sense in the eyes of these mad woodlanders. Yet, he didn't exactly feel angry, he felt more tired than anything.
He walked towards a poorly kept part of the abbey's graveyard which laid in the forests; a large group of Southwarders had gathered there with Frankfort overlooking from a distance. Marthomis could see Shackleford with his retinue, looking at the graves, shaking his head, and laughing as he enjoyed the company of curious soldiers.
Crack!
Marthomis turned and gulped down his spit, trying to keep composure. This was hallowed ground, where the dead of generations of Redwallers were buried. Yet, the Southwarders went about their business as they looked for specific graves, guided by instructions from Redwall's own recorder. Marthomis had once thought highly of Curlor, but now he wanted to personally strangle the squirrel.
"I found it!" One of the soldiers called out. Shackleford heard, rushing over where he was called and looking at a simple stone grave. Its depiction was that of a ferret with six fingers upon his paw, his arms held by a mouse maid. Shackleford nodded to the soldier who took the brunt part of a mace and began to smash the grave down. The desecration with severe, as the soldiers snapped at some of the vermin serfs who were soon helping tear up the ground and further destroy the final resting place of Veil Sixclaw, or well, at least the grave the Redwallers gave him. Marthomis could not even watch, especially when he spied the grave of the simple boat builder and rat Blaggut had his grave desecrated. The only thing they had not done yet was actually raise the graves.
Marthomis approached Frankfort who looked on, his bodyguard Samkon close to his side as they watched the whole thing unfold.
Frankfort turned to Marthomis, seeing he approached cautiously as he sighed "Abbot Marthomis, I didn't think you'd come out to see this. I am glad you did, as we remove the taint of corruption from this abbey's past."
"When I heard Prince Frankfort, I will not pretend to say I am pleased." Marthomis said. The squirrel prince frowned and nodded "I see, but know this is for your own benefit. Once the historical records are fixed, this will be seen in a better light." Frankfort returned his attention to the desecration, this festival of defilement as the Southwarders wandered and pointed at graves of heroes and made short prayers, but others looked zealously for vermin graves of those who Marthomis's predecessors had buried. When they found one, Shackleford would come over to make his confirmation, his assistant rabbit checking things off a list, and the Southwarders or their serfs destroying it.
"You are destroying the graves of good beasts, Frankfort." Marthomis tried to speak bravely, but the squirrel only gave an annoyed sigh and spun around, speaking in a serious tone.
"Good beasts aren't poisoners like this 'Veil', or pirate scum like this Blaffort or Blaggun, or whatever name the vermin will call their barbarous kin. My scholar tells me it was the insistence of Salamandastron to have these beasts buried in the graveyards of heroes. Look over there, abbot. The grave of Saxtus, a hero in our country, buried amongst vermin? When we exhume the bodies, abbot, we will place these vermin in a more proper but separate graveyard. We are not monsters."
As he said this, another crack could be heard, followed by the crack of a whip. Marthomis turned to see a vermin serf had pushed over a gravestone, but it landed near a soldier. For the crime of cutting it a bit close, the vermin cried out in pain as he was lashed by one of the overseers.
This defilement was special to Marthomis, as not far from that grave was the family tomb of Mattimeo, who he imagined was rolling in his grave at the sound.
"The vermin buried here were friends or those we had raised here, Prince Frankfort." The abbot said sadly.
"They will be buried somewhere else then, abbot. However, these creatures were vermin first and foremost, their entire race is tainted and only we have been able to help them."
"Help them?" The abbot asked, but the annoyance in Frankfort's voice made the abbot back up in fear "Yes. We are helping them. They are as bad if not worse from the old tales, and twice as foolish. They attacked us on the road, in our camp, they hounded and murdered friends and comrades alike. My first encounter with them I spared two fool bandits. One whose paw I had cut, and since then they have been far grander help to civilized creatures than they had in the entire existence of their species." Frankfort sounded spiteful as he spoke, but tried to keep his diplomatic charm.
"Vermin may be the enemies of many free woodlanders, but–"
"There is no 'buts' about it, abbot." Frankfort interrupted."The vermin are evil, they besieged you home, and can you not see they lack the ability to unite and create? How else can they forge their weapons and hordes, if not by outside means. The means made in Salamandastron. Any and all evil must be eliminated, and I am simply doing the most pragmatic means of bringing the beasts away from their dark lords and into the light. They only respond to violence, abbot, as unfortunate as that is."
The abbot frowned and watched with Frankfort as the remaining graves of once gray vermin were wiped away. He watched as the soldiers treated their vermin serfs as children, pushing them and patronizing them. Shackleford came closer, and he could hear him quite gleeful about his desecration. He came up to the two, with a wide smile on his face, his small spectacles pushed into his face.
"Ah, Abbot Marthomis, I am glad you are here, have you come to see the destruction of these false graves?"
"False?" Marthomis asked, biting his lip. Whatever explanation this small scholar planned to tell him, he wasn't sure he even wanted to hear it.
"Oh yes, false. Faux. Deception, just like the Long Patrol and their badger masters. You see, my scholarship points me to the creation of these graves, which should never have been buried close to the abbey to begin with, is an attempt to subtly humiliate the woodlanders with the veneer of toleration. You see, vermin do not bury their dead, being so independent as creatures. They cannot value communal burial or respect to a creature weaker than them, it's both culturally and ethnically impossible. It is good for burial practices for vermin, but it is a learned behavior which these graves are not. The villainous elite of Salamandastron had perhaps intended to shove their power over others with such detestable actions."
Marthomis dared not speak, especially when he saw soldiers who listened so closely to these supposedly reasonable speeches. Frankfort nodded in agreement and made another order "We will leave the graves for now, but for respect for the vermin dead of the abbey, we will exhume them and dump them in the river, after the campaign."
Marthomis wanted to protest, but he looked at his companion and helper who had come with him. He simply nodded in agreement, thinking what he was doing was correct and moral. The abbot kept his mouth shut, becoming uneasy as he witnessed all the terror inflicted upon his abbey pass by his mind. He wondered if the group who were calm to him now would make some excuse to turn their pikes and crossbows on him and those whom he loved. They were already looking for Snot Butkan, and dared not imagine all the terrible things they would do to him.
"Come, let us leave this dreary place." Frankfort spoke in authority. Marthomis trudged behind him as Shackleford came to his side, speaking all manner of subjects. He gave a look to the graveyard behind him, now purged of the 'taint'. Marthomis quivered and left with the group back to the abbey whose walls now shone in the yellow banners of Southward.
_
Nosbub was never one for tight spaces, as a hare of his stature even he found it difficult to climb up the stone hallway and into the office of Redwall's abbot, made into the makeshift office of his prince. Nosbub twitches in his leg, causing him to partly stumble, taking a moment to get up and curse himself with mumbles. The hare hated it, he would have preferred the Great Hall and its large space for such important meetings, but Frankfort thought it was too much of a perceived insult to do so.
Nosbub tried to open the door to the office, his mood souring more as it was locked. The door unlocked and Samkon greeted him at the door, looked him over, and allowed him in. Nosbub got a twitch in his whiskers as he grunted at Samkon and held his paws behind his back, puffing out his chest as he strolled on in.
He then discovered he was late.
All in the room looked at him with a mix of bored or upset expressions as Nosbub realized his mistake, telling them "I was told we would meet farther into the afternoon."
"We can accept apologies for tardy later, General Nosbub." Frankfort spoke.
Nosbub got a read of the room, seeing Frankfort behind the abbot's desk, his paws on the tables and golden medallion dangling towards a series of maps and reports neatly piled to the side. Samkon was of course behind him, keeping far from the tomfoolery. His one eye glanced around the room, uninterested in all the great beasts gathered here. Kelsum and Gosland stood to one side, both peering down at their own map, with Vergber and Guil were to the other, whispering to themselves. Shackleford was nearby, although he had taken up a corner with a nice cup of tea, drinking and looking at notes.
Nosbub faced Frankfort, looking down at the map as Frankfort greeted his generals and advisors.
"Now that we are all here, I have summoned all of you to discuss the matter of our campaign. We have two enemies; the vermin and Salamandastron." Frankfort was blunt, looking to the side and frowning, as if expecting Lars to be with him still, his advice and power having been deeply missed. He returned his attention to his council "The vermin army here at Redwall and their allies the Long Patrol are driven back, and Redwall is liberated. However, it will no doubt not be long till the Long Patrol survivors flee north and reunite with their vermin mercenaries. There is a vermin army at Salamandastron, their system of bloated conspiratorial invasions has caught up to them all."
Guil looked at the map, pointing out a road to Salamandastron "Yes, the vermin at the beaches here are distant, but we cannot ignore a command structure that is under siege. We will have to reclaim it from the vermin. Going north is less known, we do not know the full extent of the vermin conquests or their logistical concerns."
Gosland spoke up, reminding Guil "Yes, but we also must understand, the vermin are too stupid to handle their own logistics. They are over-extended."
"Correct." Nosbub said in a bored tone before giving another twitch of his head. Kelsum huffed "Does my peer know something we perhaps do not know about this?"
"Plenty in fact, General Kelsum." Nosbub peered only briefly at the map, running his paw fingers from Redwall to the northern river "The main vermin host we fought here was not even the main force, their warlord was not even amongst their own troops. Typical of cowardly creatures to not even conduct their own siege. The main force is in the north, likely just licking its wounds."
"We can attack either the northern vermin or the one near the coast, I do not advise both." Guil confidently spoke. Frankfort listened to his advice, and thought about it. He spoke in a firm voice "My father's campaigns against the lizards had many similar issues as we have now, multiple enemy armies. If our battles against lizards and frogs taught us anything, we cannot crush one army and expect the others to wait and retreat."
Kelsum nodded "That is true, my lord. Although we are in a worse situation. If we attack both, we will not have a clear chance at victory. We should crush one enemy, and it should be the one we just defeated here. The vermin army near the coast has not moved as far as we know, and is likely struggling to get into the mountain fortress. If we wipe out the enemy which is one the move and weaken, then we should have no trouble wiping out a siege camp."
"Though, taking on the enemy siege camp first will be the easiest, General Kelsum." Vergber spoke up next "We know the supply route and its closer. Cheaper as well."
"It also leaves us vulnerable to a counter attack if the enemy we faced here recovers." Gosland noted.
Nosbub listened, and began to smirk. His smile grew wide, only to be stopped when a painful twitch in his neck snapped him back to attention "My lords, let us listen to the Prince on this issue. Just as the King divided his forces, we should have no issues dividing up our own."
"General Nosbub, that sounds risky." Kelsum protested, but Nosbub pointed to the map, tapping it as he charmed the Prince in calm and golden words "My Prince, as you wisely suggest, your father divided up forces. These vermin are easy to destroy as we have seen, but even Woodlanders can lose wars. We must fight our foe in all fronts, we must fight them in all ways so as to not give them the chance to raid or pillage."
Frankfort looked at Nosbub and his flattery, and smiled "Yes, you are right, General Nosbub. Look, if we divide our force, we can cautiously approach this 'Markem' and his horde, while another army takes the siege of Salamandastron away from the vermin, no doubt masterminded incompetently by Long Patrol agents. If we attack them at the same time, they won't get the chance to damage our supply lines, nor will they muster a force large enough to destroy us."
"And more importantly, my lord." Nosbub sweetly coaxed "The vermin are poor warriors and poorer tacticians. Without the leading Long Patrol general here to secretly guide them, they will be hard pressed to fight us." Kelsum interrupted the fine words which Frankfort loved to hear. "While that is most certainly a plan, it is also risky, my lord."
"It is, but with confidence and good advice, we will overcome both forces. General Kelsum and General Gosland will accompany me to the north. General Nosbub, are you confident to march on Salamandastron with your army?"
"Oh yes, I am and always." Nosbub smirked before a twitch forced him to frown. He then nodded in recovery. Frankfort looked down at the map, adding a small wooden caricature of a armed Southlander mouse to the north, to represent Markem. Frankfort stared at it, and looked on with an increasing cold dread.
"They call themselves the Great Vermin Band from those we captured and hung, they call their warlord Markem." He looked up at his generals, Frankfort giving a firm smile to his cadre of subordinates "We will show that cruel and vile slaver and murderer what Southward can do, and we will do more than just chase his horde from Mossflower. We will crush it, and make the Great Vermin Band a great pile of ash. General Kelsum, I want my army well drilled, Vergber I want it well supplied. When we march north, I want to see these monsters crumble at our sight, shining like the sun! For Southward! For Mossflower!" Frankfort arose with zeal as his comrades spoke in unison to conclude his grand plan.
"For Southward. For Mossflower!"
All except Nosbub who only stared and smiled, the black twitch could only laugh in his mind, laughing as a drunk and mad fool.
Yes, Prince Frankfort. Get a real taste of war, while I live on a beach while you win this country for me. For Mossflower indeed.
_
Nosbub stood in the courtyard, sniffing the air as his twitch had not acted up since his meeting with Frankfort. He kept a wide smile on his face as a parade of soldiers began to move out of the abbey and past the gates. Large scores of beasts watched as the black twitch's army marched in unison, followed closely by wagons and serfs pulling them. The 2nd army was moving out, and even outside the army marched in a long line to the west, slowly making its way past fields and forest. The Redwallers looked out of windows or from the high walls, watching the marching procession of Nosbub's army keep their halberds raised, crossbows to the side, and could hear the thunderous march of song echo as they moved.
Yellow is the banner, yellow is our sun
Marching over hill and vale
Raise your weapons on high
Zeal our meal!
Glory, glory comes Southward's sun!
Bringing the hammer and chisel!
Sword and arrow!
The light of lights, bright and true!
Golden hues!
Our banner marched south
To lands of muck and sludge
Filled with vile, murderous foes
We routed them in battle,
Made them see our shields!
By blood and fur, we brought the golden hue!
Bring us to battle, our swords undone!
Patient no longer, pikes broken in the sun!
Yet our victory is assured, our banner flows above!
Golden hues are seen by the enemy undone!
The song had brought the beasts to step in line, each pounding of boots upon the ground could terrify those who had not seen it, clouds of dust from the courtyard flooded the air. Nosbub didn't seem bothered, and soldiers of the other armies watched with pride. The yellow banner of Southward fluttered in the wind, the sacred bell shining as a symbol upon armor and cloth.
Nosbub did not stay to see the full part of his army march off, even if he would rejoin them. Gythan led such things while he could slowly and lazily packed. Esmert was awaiting for him, his favorite boots being cleaned by a terrified looking rat who stressed himself trying to appease the noble hedgehog as he silently looked down on him. Esmert looked at his superior, but gave an annoyed huff "My lord, I am never one to criticize, but why exactly are we heading to a bleeding beach?"
"Did you want to go north, Esmert?" Nosbub huffed. Esmert shook his head "No, b–" He nearly said something he would have quickly regretted before looking down. Esmert kicked the rat harshly in the jaw and commanded him "Get out, your poor job is noted, but acceptable." The rat nursed his jaw and quickly left as Esmert examined his fine boots. Nosbub could not help but roll his eyes at the scene.
"I do not get it, we will be fighting two armies, alone." Esmert openly complained "I'm surprised Kelsum didn't throw you out a window with this little plan."
"Are you doubting my genius, Captain Esmert?"
"No, I am certain your plan is fine, but I still don't get it."
Nosbub pinched his nose and explained, clearly annoyed his minion was so small minded. "Esmert, you help drill my armies, so I can understand when tactical troubles are foreign to you, but do have a bigger mind from now on. This enemy vermin army is likely no less incompetent as the army we faced here, if not smaller. We'll be sitting upon a beach, we'll build a nice camp, occasionally look out to see if the badger's army is set up, and be satisfied they haven't moved. From what we know, these Long Patrol failed to even move the vermin near their own lands, so clearly the forces we found here were the best and brightest. The best and brightest I must remind you we had buried out in some ditch."
"If you are confident, Nosbub, then I shall be." Esmert huffed, his royal collar swaying as he swaggered towards the front of the tent.
Nosbub arose, taking with him a wine bottle as he exited the tent, seeing Esmert make his way to his division of beasts. His division, if one could call it that, was a group of serfs who wore lashed marks upon their faces and nose, keeping their eyes averted as Esmert pushed them about, yelling and demeaning them. Esmert's minions, a cadre of apprentices from other drill masters, learned under him.
"Have you told him yet?" A voice came from below and to Nosbub's side which nearly made him jump. Nosbub turned down in anger to see the sly vole smirking up at him. He extended his paw and Nosbub angrily shoved the bottle into it. "Bleeding fool of a b–" Nosbub began before violently twitching, the zapping pain coming out of his neck.
"Baros, you were expecting me?"
"Aye, cause ya sent my division far ahead of the line and you didn't tell me to join them. I am no fool creature, sir. You wanted me to do something."
"Yes, and pay attention. You're lucky I am not like Kelsum, or I'd have you lashed for being an annoyance." Nosbub growled. Baros shrugged and took a sip from the bottle.
"I am leaving for the north, but you will be staying behind." Nosbub whispered "I want you to keep an eye on Frankfort and report anything coming from dissenters or those questioning the Prince. Last thing I need is a brave beast making good points."
Baros only nodded, watching his boss march away. With his orders and drink secure, Baros made his way towards the abbey to find some manner of corner to crawl into. He would be unwelcome in any other camp, but this isn't the first time he had done this. The vole thought this was going to be some boring, miserable job, but one which would pay well in the end.
He stopped when he spotted two beasts who were watching the march turn, a captain of Kelsum and that otter mercenary. He didn't know their names well, but thankfully, they didn't need to do much as he hid near some tent and listened onto a rather interesting conversation.
"The army splits and that creature of evil Nosbub marches away with his entire bleeding army to Salamandastron! I can hardly believe our misfortune Tangran."
Tangran was silent, looking around at the army sadly and nodding "Your misfortune indeed, Banoff."
The hedgehog captain stopped and looked quite upset, hiding it quite poorly. "I should have been at the front, I should have done something! Damn Gaslow, and damn his zeal. That murder in the infirmary, it was evil. Evil? Actually, no, is there something worse than evil?"
"If there is, the vermin invented it." Tangran's voice edged on regret as Banoff turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "I just don't know, hedgehog. I mean, what happened here was bad an' all, but–"
"But what!? What happened here was abominable!"
Tangran got annoyed, partly raising his voice "I know!" Tangran lowered his voice to regain his composure, motioning Banoff to him as they walked, unaware that between the tents Baros followed.
"Look over there, Banoff. Ya see those three mice?" Baros looked to where Tangran was pointing, and Banoff did the same. Three mice were gleefully taking weapons and putting on new yellow garments. Baros was confused, it looked quite normal, no real injury or story could be deduced from a distance. "Those three had ropes taken off their necks from the battle, many otters from the holt here now join their spears an' rudders with these folk. They are freeing people, Banoff."
"And Nosbub murdered a family, an' killed those who couldn't defend themselves."
"Yes, an' that is evil. It is true evil, lad. What happened I won't be forgiving any beast for anytime soon. Yet, I am just thinking, maybe let them play this all out. Let them kill the vermin before we do anything about it."
Banoff went silent and sighed "Look, the vermin are a bunch of vile creatures, but the longer we wait, the more evil they will end up doing."
"Evil?" Tangran scoffed, folding his paws "Ya don't know evil, hedgehog, like most of you southern folk. You don't know the vermin all that well either, but I do. I spent me first waking years in shackles, doing menial work for Kasg the Craven, building his roads and watching me ma and pa get their tails cropped by that cruel tyrant. I watched friends die, mutilated, and tortured for just looking at one of the black clads funny. These folks put the vermin in fancy yellow clothes and gives them rightful punishment, hedgehog. It's too good for the likes of them."
"Evil doesn't excuse evil, Tangran. You have to help us."
"I will, lad. Just, can we do it when the heads of those slavers and murderers line the walls?"
Banoff shakes his head "The vermin may be worse, but we can't just allow Nosbub to continue. We need proof, Tangran." The otter only nodded with reluctance, and marched on. Banoff went after him "Remember, they murdered your friend's family."
"An Kasg murdered many of mine." Tangran shot back. The otter marched off to be with his own thoughts as Banoff cursed himself and mumbled, marching elsewhere. All the while, Baros took another swig of his drink, smiling and chuckling to himself. Maybe things won't be so boring after all.
_
Marthomis sat in his newest office, listening to the stomping and singing outside, but his attention was drawn to the papers in front of him. Kicked out of his office, the dormouse's apartment was a mess, stacked with books on one side which laid on his bed, and the other had a plate of half eaten food. Marthomis had with the help of Bollo and Kalma fit a wobbly desk. Marthomis felt slight comfort and yet a constant invisible pain as he sat on his bed which now became his chair. His once homely room now became cramped, and he shifted around constantly. In front of him was a stack of papers, ink, and a quill. He slowly picked up his pen and began to write.
'Terrible tragedy has come to Redwall, our home which has stood siege after siege by the vermin now sits in the paws of beasts who would call us friend but act somehow with little dignity and great malice to our friends.
The vermin besieged us, made their dark demands of us, and yet I would have preferred them to these vagabonds and defilers. Jue is now not the only one missing, and I–'
Marthomis stopped and picked up the paper, crunching it in his paw harshly, he left it there, trying to not be angry with all that was happening. He wanted to write the longest possible curse directed not just at these accursed guardians, but himself. He looked down at his next paper and began to simply write
'In the Year of Silent Butt–' Marthomis stopped writing and scoffed. Butterflies and silence, that is how we all described it, a simple and peaceful year. Oh how naive and short sighted we had been! Marthomis took up the paper and crunched it again. His old paws moving to his last piece on his desk. He frowned, and grimly took the paper to task, and wrote down;
'Our years of peace, once thought silent and beautiful, are no more. I do not know what to call this era as I see banners all around. The banner of our brave hares is gone, the brown banner of Markem Brownnose, Great Warlord of the Great Horde, flies north in retreat. A yellow banner, an enemy banner, from those who would call us our savior flies now over our home. Our days have grown quite dark of late, our people suffer. I pray perhaps we shall find a light of hope, but such things dim in captivity. I perhaps wonder if I should have taken that rat's deal. I cannot regret it now.' Marthomis felt tired writing it, taking it up and his paws and examining his writing and trembling in lip. Even in privacy he kept his composure, he needed to for himself.
"Abbot! Abbot Marthomis!" The voice which had once been fine to the abbot now filled him with spite, Curlor's voice rang from behind the door. He squinted his eyes and sighed, hearing banging on his door from the outside.
"Come in Curlor." The abbot softly beckoned. Curlor opened the door, although it banged on the desk. Curlor looked into the room to see what he banged, and looked embarrassed as Marthomis grabbed his ink to prevent it from spilling on himself or his bed. Curlor edged his way into the tight space, closing the door behind him as he faced Marthomis who sat upon his bed, fixing up his desk again.
"Abbot Marthomis, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Funny, I had something to talk to you about as well, Curlor."
Curlor raised an eyebrow as he looked around the room for something to sit on, disappointed he couldn't find anything. He spoke up first, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Abbot, I've made my decision, I will be joining the retinue of the mouse Shackleford and that of Prince Frankfort. In that time I will likely be leaving with them, but know I will be returning once all is said and done. I am not intending of course to resign from my position as recorder, yet I do not know how long I will be gone."
The abbot only looked at him with cold, uncaring eyes as tired as they were. Curlor felt something was perhaps wrong, but he could guess what it is, and continued "I know we have had a long history together since we were dibbums, Marthomis, even if you were always older. You have resisted these folk, but honestly I cannot figure out why."
"Curlor." Marthomis spoke up "I accept your resignation with some dignity, and may your path in life be as eventful on the road as it was here."
Curlor's eyes widened and his voice which had until this point been fair suddenly began to crack "Abbot Marthomis, perhaps you misheard, I am not resigning."
"It's either that or official banishment, Curlor." Marthomis surprised the squirrel, known for his softness and voice of reason becoming so cold and emotionless. Not even when speaking to that rat warlord Markem did he show disdain, and that alone made Curlor furious.
"Banishment? You have no authority, or reason."
"You are correct, Curlor. As of now, I have no authority. Reason, though? This abbey takes in every beast who is willing to embrace peace, and we have always been attacked for it by the vermin. Yet we have never faltered in trying to act courteous. Slagar was offered a chance of making a new life but he ran off and did horrible things on his path in life, we treated Cluny the Scourge to our halls to talk, we have been cautious to those who attempt to harm us but we never sought their direct demise. Curlor, what you have done does not share our values, and I cannot have such a beast in my abbey."
"Your abbey?" Curlor's voice slowly began to raise "Marthomis, lest you forget, this nearly wasn't your abbey. It was nearly Markem's! Would have you spoken of peace when that rat or his murderous subordinates marched through our gates, butchered us, put our heads and bodies on spikes and marched out youngsters in chains to seasons-know-where!? Would you have spoken of peace when they burned this abbey, it's relics, and all of our knowledge to the ground!? Maybe the Southwarders are bleeding right, and we have been in the wrong. The vermin, lest you seemingly forget, are monsters. One snuck into our abbey and murdered friends of ours, and after th–" Curlor held his lip, remembering something he wished he hadn't.
"Yes, I was there too when they brought those miserable creatures through our doors, Kasg's cruelty was legendary."
"Yes, Kasg's cruelty. It wasn't Kasg, it was his species. It's rats, weasels, ferrets, foxes, stoats, and every other bleeding vermin to exist. How can you sit here and talk of banishing me! I am right about this! How can you, our wise leader, not see it! Even if they are half wrong about them, what does it matter? The vermin are monsters needing to be slain, and they at least have decency to try to beat them into being good beasts."
"You think slavery and torture is a fix for those who have only known slavery and torture, Curlor?"
"Is it not working?" Curlor growled. Marthomis huffed and shook his head "Is that what you wish to be done with Snot Butkan then? Are you so hateful and fearful of such a small and innocent creature that you will only feel comfortable when they have lashed backs and missing paws? Like the ones we saw when we healed them in our abbey long ago, and swore against ever seeing war again? Are you so spiteful, Curlor, that you will only be satisfied when all the terrible things we saw be done to vermin younger than you?"
"Innocent!?" Curlor was already standing, but he nearly jumped in rage. "Snot is the son of a bandit, you fool! A bandit who was no less verminous than all others! I'm surprised he didn't try to kidnap you and ransom you back to us, or just kill you for sport!? It was an insult to have that family of weasels even near us! I will be more than glad when I find that stupid, ill kept creature and turn them over to Frankfort, and have him suffer how many creatures his age have suffered in the dreaded forts of vermin across this world! He is born a monster, Marthomis. They all are, and none are free of it."
"And that is why I am accepting your resignation, Curlor." Marthomis didn't even sound angry, nor disappointed. He sounded calm, disturbingly so. "You may think I am a fool for keeping a young vermin like Snot amongst us, and perhaps I will regret it, but he is still a part of this abbey and has mostly kept to our rules. He is a member of Redwall, and you had tried to bring him to an early grave or worse. A youngster, Curlor. Even if Frankfort says I cannot banish you or resign you from your duties, know that none in this abbey will look kindly upon you for this act again. I certainly won't."
Curlor only paused, his face red with anger and only spitting out a curse to his former abbot "I hope the vermin you so love at least give you a swift demise, Abbot." He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Curlor marched off, emotion running through his face as he thought of what to do next. He wanted to return to Marthomis, curse him more, and then slam the door again. He wanted to perhaps say something more powerful or even poetic, but nothing really came to mind. He was full of anger, and there was only one beast to blame.
Snot.
Snot Butkan, that vile spy! That evil tumor on this good abbey!
Curlor marched out in the field, the 2nd army having left and new soldiers coming on in to fill their place. He stopped, looking quite upset as he put his paws to the side, trying to hold back tears of regret. His sadness of losing a long time acquaintance was replaced with an overbearing rage. He thought of all the things he was going to do to Snot when he found him, of all the humiliations he would put him through. All the potential justices he would deliver onto the rude weasel, each one more violent than the last.
"Oh, Recorder Curlor." Curlor looked to who was speaking to him, seeing Eskert, Loy, Borbon, and Balon returning. Curlor rushed over to them, quickly speaking "Eskert, you returned. Oh good! Quickly, I need your help."
"Does this have to do with that weasel again?" Eskert said a bit awkwardly. "Yes! Snot, I know he is near, and we have to search!"
Loy exchanged a glance with Eskert who gave a loud sigh. He turned to Balon and Borbon and spoke in a friendly way to both "I will join you both for supper later, I wanted to discuss what information we found."
"We found information?" Balon said curiously. Eskert nodded "Or well, perhaps the lack of i–"
"There is no time, you promised to help me in this Eskert!" Curlor was practically grabbing his paw and the smaller mouse could barely stop. He didn't fully resist as Loy watched on amused as Eskert complained "Yes, yes. I am coming. Now, hold on there Recorder!"
Loy followed Eskert, as the two disappeared back into the abbey.
Norma and Nafpha crept closer to the attic stairs, slowly going up and being careful as they stepped. The last thing they wanted was to draw the attention of the patrolling guard, let alone any other curious beast like Curlor. Nafpha looked into her sack, examining her crushed and soggy pastries and sweets, the only thing they could get from the abbey. She was thankful the beast whom they would give this to cared very little about texture or taste, only that the young glutton loved to eat and be the biggest eater of all of them.
The darkness of the attic slowly began to creep up on them, but neither dared tried to bring a lantern or any manner of light which could bring attention to them. Officially, both younger beasts were confined to their quarters, helping the cooks since there was little else to do. Many of the dibbums were confined in the quarters of some of the more motherly soldiers, but all the youngsters had been lost without Stenna. Most of the adults tried to take her place, but no one could keep a full handle on all of them. In that chaos, Norma and Nafpha were able to help their friend. Or well, perhaps 'friend' was too generous of a term to give Snot.
Norma reached out her paw, feeling the wooden stairs and eventually coming to a surface. Practically crawling in the dark, Norma slowly crept her paw up towards the door handle, opening it in the slowest way possible. However the door handle flew out of her paw and opened violently, with Snot peering back at them.
"Took yer bleeden time, fish eater." Snot nearly yelped. Norma and Nafpha's eyes went wide, practically tackling Snot to the ground and keeping a paw over his mouth. For a moment of silence, they listened and heard nothing. Norma scolded the weasel harshly.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed!?"
"Are ya tryen to kill me?" Snot's voice lowered, but his eyes peered at the sack Norma had. "I'm hungry! Ya two barely fed me yesterday as it was."
"It's not our fault, Snot!" Nafpha was frustrated and closed the door behind them.
Snot had been living in the attic since the occupation began, and was miserable pretty much every day. He was not incompetent when it came to hiding, but he was constantly anxious and impatient. Snot also learned he liked craving some manner of attention. Snot had made bedding from the attic's trash in one hidden corner, and often just paced around the attic and listened to others. Norma had hoped in some way that the younger vermin would be entertaining himself looking out a window, but he often refused to. He didn't like what he saw out there.
Snot was practically putting himself in the bag, digging into his meal greedily as Norma and Nafpha kept him company. It felt better to talk to him since they could do little else.
"You gotta be more careful Snot." Nafpha warned "What if it wasn't us who were coming up here?"
"I just know dings, round ears." Snot boasted "An besides, dat mean ol' squirrel ain't caught me yet. An likely neva will!"
As Snot ate, the three heard a loud whip crack in the air which made Snot stop and listen, his once prideful and confident form began to shiver as he heard the pained yell which followed it. "Dem yella folk. Th-they don't know I'm here, right?"
"If they did, you'd be down there for certain and we'd all be punished for it."
Snot gulped and his hunger left him. "Stupid woodlanders, stupid abbey. Had I'd just been back home, I'd not have to worry about dis! I didn't dink ya folk were capable of all dat, what happened in der infirmary, an what dem folk are doin to der vermin outside."
"We didn't know it was possible either." Norma said in a depressed mood. "My poor Darper, he says he'll protect us, but even he slinks away from the yellowclads. He says it's like a nightmare, as if Kasg came back and was a squirrel."
"Good ding dem two fools ain't here to see all dis." Nafpha turned her mind to those two fools, Jase and Gaisen. Both didn't come back to the abbey when the main vermin horde was defeated and its slaves freed, so the theory that they had been captured was put to rest. Yet in one morbid way, Nafpha hoped they had peacefully perished or did not intend to return, at least they wouldn't behold what had happened to their abbey.
"Whatcha dink will happen if they catch me?" Snot asked, clearly afraid. Neither Norma and Nafpha answered, even as they thought different things. Norma was perhaps more optimistic, although that optimism may have been a fate for which she would be seeing a tortured form of Snot in one of those yellow uniforms, doing hard labor with an overbearing taskmaster treating him as some criminal and adult. Nafpha could only see what she had heard of happening in the infirmary, her mentor's words and traumatic ramblings infested her mind. She winced at the idea of seeing Snot as he was, bloodied and in pain, being thrown into some shallow grave. Both agreed to remain silent as to not frighten him, even though Snot could read their faces that if he was ever caught, doom surely awaited him.
Snot's ears perked up, to which Nafpha noticed. She heard the creaking and soft march of boots, and realized someone was coming. Norma and Nafpha got to their feet and quickly sprung into action. Grabbing Snot, they silently pulled up an old wooden board, and motioned him into a tight crawl space. Snot complied to the best of his ability, and got inside, although he was not well hidden as the three thought. Norma realized this upon closing the wooden board on top of Snot, whose face could be seen through a small rotted hole and his face illuminated by a soft light. Snot held his breath as the march of feet grew louder. Voices could be heard next.
"He must be up here, there is nowhere else!"
Nafpha could hear Curlor's voice clearly, but Loy's soft and younger voice was tired and even a little whiny "Are you absolutely sure, recorder? We've been at this for hours."
Norma listened as well, and was surprised to hear a vermin voice in this approaching crowd. "I agree, me feet are killen me."
The door suddenly opened, with Curlor practically slamming the door before turning to Dangan and growling "It's called hard work vermin, hurting feet is good for your kind lest you forget! Now stop complaining and help me search!" Curlor stepped into the room with Loy and Eskert, who was looking tired as well. Dangan appeared behind all of them, for which Nafpha found almost comical. He was a weasel, but unlike Snot his fur was combed, his fur cut short, and his body clean. He wore the serf clothes of a servant, yellow and made for peasants. He slavishly kept his paws behind his back and kept close to Loy. Eskert looked like he wanted to add to Curlor's voice, but he seemed quite tired and done with his search.
Curlor was shocked at first see Norma and Nafhpa up in the attic, the two young redwallers kept themselves in front view, trying to keep their feet on top of the boards which would have revealed Snot.
"Norma? Nafpha? What are you two doing here?" Curlor asked. Norma gave a fake smile, and spoke up first "Oh, nothing in particular. Just playing. You know how Jase and Gaisen would come up here? We tho–"
"Are you two hiding him?" Curlor interrupted, coming closer. Eskert and Loy followed him with Dangan again remaining a short distance behind both. Nafpha didn't answer, but Curlor growled "Both of you, you are in deep trouble already just for being up here, so no point in trying to hide him!"
"Hide who, sir?" Nafpha finally asked.
"Snot! Where is Snot!?"
Nafpha felt a tinge of bravery, speaking up to him "Even if I did know where he is, why would I tell you?"
Loy tried to be more reasonable, speaking more softly as he came to Curlor's side "Because, it's for the sake of this young vermin and Redwall's safety. You do know where he is, right?"
Norma turned to Loy, a bit older than she was, and shook her head. Nafpha spoke up, trying to not move from her spot "Last we saw him, he was running towards, ummm, the vermin camp during the attack, probably fled to his old family home? Have you checked there?"
"Old family home?" Loy asked, but Curlor answered "Yes, he and his bandit family lived out in the bleeding woods, causing all kinds of trouble! Now tell us where that little spy is, you two."
"He isn't a spy, sir." Norma answered, although annoyed. Eskert came to the other side of Curlor and grunted at them both "You two are young, and thus naive, and that is understandable. This is a vermin we speak of, and until we know for absolute certain, he is an enemy that must be dealt with. Like we told that rude badger and mouse down in the cellar, we don't intend to harm him, only talk and process him."
"Process him?" Norma said, as if insulted. Her bravery spiked as she raised a voice "You mean enslave him."
"It isn't slavery, youngster." Loy said, grunting at her "I've been enslaved. Dangan, you can tell them we aren't enslaving anyone, just teaching them."
Dangan knew it was a lie, and he made that clear in the most subtle way he could to the two "Aye, tis just teachen us vermin folk to be kind an' soft like woodlander folk are. We ain't slaves, just pleasants."
"'Peasants', you blithering imbecile." Curlor shot back at Dangan, who corrected himself in an awkward way "Pea-sants"
Curler came dangerously close to Norma and Nafpha who slowly began to back away from him, he was looking half mad as he tried to hold back clear anger "I know he is here somewhere, and you two are going to tell me."
"Even if I knew where he was, Curlor, I ain't telling you." Nafpha growled at him. Curlor looked like he wanted to beat on her, but he held his paw to the side when Eskert spoke up. "Recorder Curlor, I don't think this spy is in the abbey. We've looked everywhere. Perhaps we can look tomorrow or go to this hole in the ground that these vermin call a hut. I would like to eat."
Loy nodded in agreement, but Norma looked on in terror at Dangan who was looking to his side, having spotted the small bag of treats that neither of this group had noticed. Curlor threatened the two one last time, trying to get some clue to where his small rival had gone to "If you two do not tell me where he is, you'll regret it, and not even Stenna will save you."
Either of the two said anything as Curlor stood up and turned. Norma and Nafpha's heart stopped for a moment as Dangan was looking down at the ground.
And a frightened Snot was looking up in wide eyed terror.
Dangan cocked his head, being able to see the younger weasel who was trying to shake his head, begging in silence for Dangan to not speak up. Dangan frowned and Eskert bumped him "We are leaving Dangan."
"Sorry sir." Dangan looked up at Norma and Nafpha, holding their breath as Curlor joined the group, complaining and ranting all the way. Dangan only gave an affirmative nod to the two and joined the group as they headed out of the basement. "He has to be here somewhere! I just know it!" Curlor's rant could be heard "Such disrespect and unwillingness to help! What is wrong with the beasts of Redwall!"
Norma and Nafpha have a long sigh of relief, their hearts pounding.
_
Shackleford was in Cavern Hole, drinking his tea and flipping through a book, one of his own books as giving a loud sigh. Horst and Traz were with him, as Horst kept a close eye on his mentor and Traz ate happily beside him, wearing a clean yellow uniform. Nuck and Darper stared at Traz from their own table, with Norma and Nafpha having kept quiet. Traz waved to the two, but both Redwallers refused to wave back. Traz huffed and gladly ate his meal as Shackleford complained "Oh how dreadful, in all my years I still can't believe I had done so many spelling errors and mistakes!"
"It's okay, honestly sir, it's the content that counts."
"My good rabbit friend, it is in fact both. Professionalism must always come with quality, not one or neither. When I published my findings on vermin culture, I did not even think how popular they would be."
Shackleford looked through his books, his flawed masterpiece until they were interrupted by Curlor sitting at their table. Curlor normally sat with Shackleford, and both greeted each other with a friendly nod. Yet, Shackleford could see something was wrong, and Curlor spoke up in a harsh tone "Nothing, we found absolutely nothing. No Snot, not even his hint. That vermin spy must be around here somewhere."
"If there is one thing a vermin can master, it is being unseen." Shackleford said with some pretend wit "I take it your investigation went poorly then, good Curlor?"
"Poorly doesn't even describe it. We took one rest and now I think sir Eskert and his friends are ignoring me. Did you know that I asked them to accompany me to this vermin hideout, only for Eskert to say something along the lines of 'not today', its as if he doesn't even believe me! I've talked with every young associate and beast who has ever seen this spy, but now claim either he is gone or never existed to begin with!"
Traz added to Curlor's thoughts "I think most of my peers don't like us very much."
"Yes, yes. I saw it." Shackleford rubbed his chin, closing his book "The options are clear as to why that is. They do not see us as allies due to how we rescued them from the Long Patrol and their machinations, but their minds are still young. Now, I think we can change them, through various means, but neither is suitable and all of them risky."
Curlor listened as Shackleford listed off his suggestions "Youths are often so ignorant without elderly guidance, they have malformed thoughts built in such small minds which require us to mold and shape. Very few minds, like Traz's here, resist the tempting corruption of vermin lies, but for beasts like those of the Long Patrol, those lies turn them into puppets of darker forces. Now, we can set up a school, but such a thing would pull me away from my duties of the campaign as the guiding light of morality. How could this army do honorable things for the good of Southward without guidance of its top scholar?"
"So then what do you suggest then?" Curlor listened as Shackleford kept his voice quiet, and a smile began to appear across Curlor's face.
_
Frankfort sat in his office, drawing up battle plans and making decisions for his army. With Nosbub gone for the time being, he felt the need to act in his role. He didn't have an army, so Lars's Golden Regiment could be used as elite soldiers. He looked at the map, unsure if he should even study Markem's movement. There was really no substance as far as he saw it, just a warlord going from his fort to the abbey, and the Long Patrol failing to stop their creation. Frankfort looked down at the only book he would ever need when it came to figuring out vermin tactics, Shackleford's masterful text Cycle of Atrocity. It never fully stated that the vermin were under Long Patrol interference, but with such new knowledge in his mind, he now could see the truth that such stupid creatures needed woodlander masters.
He vowed in his mind that only worthy masters such as himself will rule these vile, murderous cretans. He would teach them obedience. The vermin and their children will grow in this land only knowing one name they will apologize for every utterance. Lars, I will never forget you, and no beast here will forget you.
A knock came on Frankfort's door, with Samkon's voice beckoning to the prince. "My Lord, Shackleford and Curlor wished to see you."
Frankfort raised and eyebrow to this but nodded, and yelled back "They may enter."
Frankfort smiled upon seeing the cheery and waddling form of the scholar, but Redwall's recorder did not spark such joy. He was aware of the recorder, but he knew little other than his scholar speaking highly of him. "Come in, you have not interrupted much."
"Ah, my Prince, do you perhaps have some good drink, for we shall need it."
"Oh, of course." Frankfort turned and got out some of his own dinner wares, and a bottle of creamy cordial which he poured into cups. Curlor took his and drank it, as Frankfort asked "Now, good Shackleford. Your accommodations suitable here?"
"Oh yes! Most golden, my future liege. Yet, I have come with terrible news."
Frankfort paused and listened closely as Shackleford began to become dramatically emotional "I am sorry to say, but while I read and wander this abbey, I cannot help but feel the taint of our enemies has not left. I know such things take time, but it is so heartbreaking to know so many beasts live in such delusions. I know such things are always found in places where reason goes to die in return for the sweet ambrosia of faith, but it grows so intolerable to know how tainted the younger beasts of Redwall view us as villains! It is so absurd." Shackleford took a sip of his cordial, his dramatic and sad tone never faltering.
Frankfort was more genuinely shocked "I know such things take time, but to say the future generation of this abbey is tainted. It bodes ill. Perhaps we can teach them, or I can speak to them–"
"Sadly it is too late for such things, you see, the beasts have lived so long in loyalty to their badger masters that speaking alone will not do. I am afraid they have already followed the path down of barbarism and uncivilized thinking, some even refuse to aid us in finding vermin spies! Curlor here can explain it in such detail."
"Yes my lord!" Curlor was full of zeal as he spoke "A spy, a vermin named Snot, who without a doubt in my mind is a danger to this abbey has been allowed to be protected! Even my own abbot denounced me and resigned me from my position because I dare to speak the truth! Even younger beasts refuse to help, saying such to my very face."
Frankfort looked a bit distressed at what he heard "I know I should expect such things, perhaps we had been a bit too dras–"
"We have done nothing wrong my lord, it is the fault of poor institutions built in Redwall for the generations. The Badger mothers, the keepers of youngsters here in this abbey, has always been filled with dubious creatures. Even if we were to remove the badger mother now, it would only further threaten our hold over these youngsters."
"What do you suggest then? Perhaps a school?"
"Too expensive and costly, but I do have a good idea where to start my Prince." Shackleford's dramatic sadness quickly mellowed into a gleeful smile. "I do believe so fully that our ways are working. Vermin who had once would have turned to ways of evil now bow humbly to good beasts, like any good beast should as the Bellmaker intended. Woodlanders, tainted by evil, who now join those serfs also become more supportive and civilized under us. Perhaps, my lord, how we are doing things is working."
Frankfort paused and frowned, looking to the two with concern "Do you suggest we make serfs of Redwall's youngsters?"
"Oh good heavens, no." Shackleford nearly spat out "I would never try to imply, but what I am saying is that perhaps some discipline and under care of say, General Nosbub. His position near the coast is much safer and far away from our front lines. Perhaps time spent outside the abbey, aiding our troops and living under our military discipline will make them see the error of their ways. When they see we are right, then perhaps we can redeem their loving badger mother, who can join the serfs in due time."
Frankfort pondered it. Shackleford sweetened his mind with his scholarly and parental voice "My lord, in the camp of Southward, we are freeing them of the shackles of their mind, and they will respect you and come to even adore you. They will adore us, Southward even."
Adore. Me.
Frankfort slowly began to grin and nod "Yes, I see. I will make the preparations. Thank you Shackleford, thank you Curlor. Recorder, you position is secure, do you wish me to handle your former abbot?"
"That won't be necessary, my lord." Curlor smiled "Maybe perhaps after this is all over, the matter of the position of abbot of this abbey will be open for debate?" Frankfort nodded only in agreement.
_
Nuck and Darper looked down at their new uniforms and already missed Garfan's itchy and ill fitting ones. Nuck was lightly shoved by the handle of a spear to his back, getting him to march out with others and into the field of Redwall. Nuck and Darper spotted Norma and Nafpha in the crowd, as a large group gathered. Frankfort had made his edict known, and in his full regalia had marched out the front gates to look upon his next saving adventure.
The younger beasts of Redwall were all lined up in rows, all with mixed looks of confusion and terror on their faces. Each of them were given these badly fit and tightened yellow uniforms, hand-me-downs from smaller soldiers like those of voles and mice. Darper's pants had to be partly ripped in order to fit his tail. Each one was carrying something, some were carrying blankets, one carried a pillow. Norma had her pack of supplies on her back, looking in one direction as one soldier blocked a crying Palia from pushing through. It broke the otter's heart to see her mouse mentor in such anguish, as if the slaughter of her patients was bad enough. Nafpha looked to Bollo and Kalma who were helpless to do anything, only giving on a solemn look.
Yet for Nuck and Darper, they looked to the beasts who appeared at Frankfort's side, Abbot Marthomis and the recorder Curlor. Marthomis tried to argue again with Frankfort "My lord, these are ou–"
"They were your wards, but now, they are my wards." Frankfort shushed the devastated abbot. Frankfort looked out to the crowd of youngsters and raised his paw, trying to be charismatic as much as commanding.
"Younger beasts of Redwall, I know how this may look to those in witness, but know what I have ordered is a good thing! Your rudeness to our cause is an unseen taint which afflicts your minds and hearts. Yet, our ways, the Southward way of our perfected discipline, or harshness to our marching, and our diligence in the face of adversity is a gift to all good beasts."
The doors of the main gate opened and a beast and his cadre of minions stepped through, for it was Esmert looking pompous and royal as his golden royal collar swung with each step. Nafpha and her companions looked to see him as other youngsters parted way for him, the captain of General Nosbub giving a solemn bow to his liege. Two song birds flew next to him, landing at Frankfort's side as he gave a humble bow to his vassal "Lord Esmert, I am glad General Nosbub's army has not gone too far."
"It will be far ahead by the time we catch up, my lord." Esmert seemed to give a witty retort, as if playing a game of noble intrigue than an officer of an army. Frankfort played along "Sir Esmert, I will charge you with the discipline and learning of these youngsters, for the sake of Redwall's bright future. As champion and guardian to overlook the care of future denizens of Mossflower proper, and to make them see the light of our glorious campaign."
"It will be an honor, my lord."
Bollo bit his lip, as if wanting to say something loudly and in anger, but Kalma held him. Eskert and his friends watched from the walls, looking on curiously. Frankfort spoke again to the frightened youngsters. "Do not be afraid, young beasts of Redwall, for we are not barbarians like the vermin who would send those younger than you to the front lines! Nor do we bring harm to good beasts of such an age. You will be helpers and students of my army, and in the campaign led by the noble General Nosbub, he will teach you our ways and our duties. You will only be punished for trying to run against the tide of progress, and for disobedience, but never in dark harm. You have my word, as your Prince, that no evil shall befall you, as you will be in the care of a great servant of my father's realm." The golden clad squirrel spoke with pride as some in the crowd seemed relieved, yet Norma and Nafpha looked up at Esmert who was biting his lip.
Esmert commanded the youngsters and his minions alike "We march out immediately, get into lines of three, quickly now!" Esmert made a final bow to his lord as the youngsters of Redwall were marched off like a line of soldiers. Darper turned in despair to the increasingly distant land of Redwall as they marched out into the field, half hoping a raven would fly down like it did before and force them all back inside. Esmert's soldiers forced them to keep pace as soldiers and friends looked on. Marthomis went to the door, barely able to hold back tears as he watched the youth be courted out.
Nuck whispered to Nafpha as they marched "Why in the infernal hell did you not hand that snot covered vermin over?" Nuck didn't speak in spite and more like confusion as he kept his voice low. Nafpha only frowned, feeling partly vindicated she had done the right thing, but also regret for getting them all into this mess. Curlor's presence was no mistake in her mind, this was all of his vengeance at work.
"It would have been wrong, Nuck." Norma whispered back "They'd have killed him or worse."
"Worse? I think we just got dropped into worse, Norma." Nuck chastised her. He complained to Darper who marched solemnly next to him "At least we won't be doing much, rig–" Nuck didn't finish his words.
Nuck may not have realized it, but once out into the woods, the mood of Esmert's beasts changed, growling at others or smacking them with a wooden pole. The group stopped in confusion as Nuck was pulled out of the crowd and thrown to the ground by a hare who yelled at him "Be silent!" Raising a pole over his head and threatening him. Darper and Norma rushed over, trying to push the hair aside as Darper growled and screamed at him "Get off of him, ya blasted creature!"
Then a long and fouled zap of air came over them all and a ear shattering crack of a whip killed the air and made beasts go quickly towards the ground. Nafpha looked up, seeing Esmert furling up his whip, and coming over with a smirk on his face and making his way down to the group. Darper tried to bravely stand up, and explained "Your guard is mistreating us, I dem–"
Esmert took up one of his favorite weapons, a wooden cudgel and lightly slapped Darper's face. To any experienced beast, it would have been playful but for Darper to made him go to the ground and nurse his cheek. He looked up in fear at the hedgehog who just yawned. "I will have silence on my trip, or your lashing will be quite severe I am afraid."
"So much for being a teacher." Darper growled at him, trying to be brave. Esmert only shrugged "I am a teacher, I drill beasts into proper soldiers, which is what all of you will be soon enough."
"You heard your Prince!" Norma pleaded "He promised we wouldn't b–"
"Prince Frankfort isn't here, and if you speak again, there will be consequences."
"Then we'll make our way back to Re–" Norma continued to protest, until Esmert unfurled his whip. The hedgehog smiled and spoke up to the crowd "We do not stop till we return to General Nosbub, you will not speak nor question our decisions! You are all tainted of evil by vermin tomfoolery, and you will learn to be better under me and my commander! Frankfort's softness will not allow the true method, nor do I believe in half measures. You will do more than just scrub pots and fix up tents, you will be soldiers and you will kill whom I command you to kill! If you do not."
Esmert cracked his whip at one of the younger squirrels in the audience, the whip slapping into his face and the beast fell over and began to scream. There was panic amongst the horrified beasts as the younger Redwaller gripped his face, now bleeding and leaving a horrific mark from his chin to the the top of his head, barely missing his eye. It was an expertly made wound, and the beasts friends quickly tried to surround him as Esmert only huffed "I do hope I made my point clear. Now get up and move out!" Nafpha slowly arose and was rejoined by Norma and the two former bullies, all of them silent and wide eyed in fear as the soldiers marched them on. Nuck began to sniff, trying to keep his composure. Darper looked on in anger as much as dismay as Norma kept close to him.
At least Jase and Gaisen are not here. Nafpha thought to herself, horrified at the fantasy of them being in this personal hell.
_
Slam!
Eskert stood at the door as the guards lowered weapons upon it, hearing pain cries coming from the room beyond. Eskert had imagined this would go poorly, but now a lot hinged on the strength of a single door. Anguished cries were heard, but not of a dying or distressed beast, but one who raged beyond the wooden frame. The guards were luckily doubled for this occasion as Eskert had decided to personally give the news to Stenna and Garfan. Eskert and others already figured this was a horrible idea, but he had wanted to be honest, and besides, they would have come to know eventually.
Slam!
"I will ask you both to deter from this action, badger mother. This was always going to be like this." Eskert tried to call out, but in vain, for only curses were heard from the other side.
"I will tear you all apart! You hear me mouse! You creatures of vile origin! I will rip your limbs off and beat you to death with them, your heads will be tossed into the sun! Let me out! Let me see your vile Prince! Let me see that traitor we called Recorder! Let me out at once!" Stenna's voice made Eskert pity here, for it was not just rage but sorrow which mixed in with pathetic weeping.
Slam!
"You may see them yet again if you stop this, Stenna of Redwall. Shall I fetch your abbot? Or would you prefer he have your blood on his conscious?" Eskert tried to reason with the beasts on the other side, and yet one furious voice spoke back.
"Come in here you vile degenerate! Let me have a piece of your sword so I can slam your blasted face into it! All of you cowards! When I get out of here, I promise to punt you all over our walls!" Garfan's voice was loud and clear, more calm but no less filled with utter rage. The others of Redwall held their tongues at least, but the last two free beasts who had not fallen in line continued to slam haphazardly into the door. Vows of vengeance and fury could be heard from each, increasing in depravity and zeal.
"Tell your prince I will rip him in two, mouse! Tell him when I am done reclaiming our youngsters, I will break every blasted bone in his body! Tell him, you vile monster!"
Eskert remained silent as the guards looked to him to figure out their next orders. None of them wished to open those gates, no matter what anyone said. Stenna's pained voice croaked in a mix of blood boiling hatred and desperate begs. "Bring me back my youngsters, you monsters! Your murderous, verminous monsters! All of you!"
Slam!
It was the last slam against the door as Eskert called out from the other side, wanting at first to be authoritative until he heard a soft weeping from Stenna which touched his heart. He instead decided to be the better beast, to be the diplomat good woodlander outta be.
"I am sorry, but it must be this way. You have my word, as warrior of Redwall, the youngsters will not see harm. I can pro–" Garfan's angry voice was followed by a slap at the door, yelling and screaming at him.
"Oh stop, you wretched thing! You are not our bloody warrior! Do you think our warriors sent youngsters off to die in your wars! When I get outta here, I want you to know I am coming for you! I am coming for all of you! You hear me!?" Eskert remained silent and spoke no more. He only sighed and returned to his side of the room with his soldiers. He made orders of them.
"Until they are calm, I advise you to find a system of exchange. Perhaps get them food in the night, or make a small insertion in the underside of the door to exchange food and clothing for them. Be sure there is a group of guards down here at all times, especially if the badger acts up."
"If the badger and that mouse escapes?" One scared soldier asked.
"Then I will put them down myself." Eskert reassured them. "Do not falter in your duties, all of you. As a Warrior of Redwall, we must keep vigilant against all threats and spare all of those we had once considered friends. If the badger mother attempts to harm any of you, do not be afraid to put her down. As tragic as it is."
The soldiers only gave an affirmitive nod as they watched the door intently, Garfan's voice grew louder as Eskert walked away "Mouse! Mouse!? Get back here! Tell that flea bitten parasite you call a prince to come down here so I can bash his head against this wall! Mouse! I am not done with you yet! Mouse!?" The cry of anger and curses became more distant until Eskert was back in the great hall. He looked up at his hero, Martin, standing valiantly with all manner of vermin scattering in all directions, wondering what he would think of them.
He would have agreed. Eskert thought of all the fine and sweet things Martin would have said, to calm all ills in this place. He had to believe it, for any other thought was distressing for him.
Nirb and Mirb were alone in the Great Hall that morning, looking up at the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. Mirb cocked his head to the side and moved his lip, while Nirb just blinked. This was their first time seeing the great tapestry up close, and it was somewhat disappointing. They heard stories of the beasts upon it moving, of ancient spirits beckoning woodlanders to victory and bringing nightmares to its enemies. Yet, now that the two vermin serfs had seen it, it was kinda mundane. It was just a big canvas of ancient pictures, prophecies, and history all rolled into one easy to digest overglorified rug.
"You two, what are you doing?"
Nirb and Mirb spun around, nearly leaping into the air upon hearing that voice. Prince Frankfort was standing in the hall, adorned in his golden armor, being affixed by his one-eyed bodyguard. Samkon growled at them, thinking he needed to command them "You two better not be slacking in your duties."
"Oh no, we'd never do dat!" Nirb shouted first.
Mirb gave a big fake smile "Course not, we'd never ever do such a ding!"
Frankfort did not look amused, but he only sighed. In his mind, he was becoming more used to Mirb and Nirb's antics, often disappearing and reappearing somewhere in the camp, somehow always catching his eye and trying to disappear again. He could never tell if the two were genuinely working on something or skipping it entirely.
"You two best be off to your division, before I consider other punishments." Frankfort grunted. Nirb and Mirb quickly slinked out the door as quickly as they could, Mirb holding onto his arm with his missing paw. Samkon slapped Frankfort's armor and became a lot more comforting in speech "I swear, sir. You should have taken a few other things from those two idiots."
"If I did, Samkon, they would be cripples."
Frankfort stood at the portal leading out into the main courtyard, just out of sight of others. He looked ready, and just needed to take an extra step. Samkon waited for him, but he almost felt lost without Lars pushing him forward. The squirrel prince made his way outside, drums and trumpets rang out across the abbey as the gathered host of his army greeted him. Kelsum and Gosland stood to the side of the entrance, and his advisors intermingled amongst them.
The serfs stopped briefly in their duties, they and lower soldiers who had been packing up crates and loading wagons looked on in both awe and fear as the yellow scion raised his paw high into the air, lowering the volume of his procession. The huge host listened as Frankfort spoke aloud.
"Today is not a good day, it is a solemn day! Today we march to war, a hated evil that cannot be avoided, and for which I wish there was any other option. Yet this enemy cannot be reasoned with! They cannot be avoided, and have swarmed over the countries of good beasts. They enslaved the people of this country, they bring death and misery to all they come across! Today we sally out and destroy this foe! We will run them not out of this country, but we shall rout them into the seas of progress and civilization! We shall bring a light so shining that even the Bellmaker will ring out over the skies of our victory! For Southward! For Mossflower!"
"For Southward! Southward!" The cries of happy and jovial soldiers rang out in a thunderous chorus as their officers lined them up into lines. Soldiers who had once been horrified by their deeds in the siege and their march to Redwall, questioning their actions, now felt relief to be out and about fighting their true enemy. They marched expertly as Frankfort joined them and was flanked by his generals.
Eskert looked out from the walls, with Balon, Borbon, and Loy by his side. Eskert had decided to stay for a little while longer, and his friends agreed. Eskert looked out as the vast field of Redwall was colored in yellow, as Frankfort's army marched out northward and into the forest, a vast row of soldiers and wagons pulling behind the grand army.
Eskert's squires watched from a different part, he looked over to see Pelo and Tera getting a bit close, with Tera putting her arm around Pelo. He smiled at the affection the two had, reminding him of his wife. Yet, now all he had were memories. Borbon kept an eye on the army, on the marching order. He looked over at Eskert, and thanked him properly.
"Thunk yuo."
"For?" Eskert asked "Makun sure me Lusma dudn't juin dur rust of thum."
Eskert nodded. When Curlor had made his suggestion, Eskert acted quickly to make sure not every beast would go to Nosbub. He believed in the cause, but Eskert knew he had to be pragmatic. Borbon still made complaints about the whole thing, but only in private. "If only dur army wur guin to fiught Gundal."
"He is a weaker creature now, Borbon." Eskert pointed out "When the greater threat is wiped out for good, we'll kill him for certain."
Balon sighed, wanting to say something. Much to his surprise, Eskert noticed and nudged him. "You have an opinion on the matter?"
"Gandal used to have an army ten times its size under Kasg, and now he has one one tenth of an army now. He may be weak, and the more we wait, the more he has a chance to lick his wounds. The vermin may be incompetent barbarians, but Kasg's vermin were always a different breed. No one can deny that."
Loy huffed "A breed to be wiped out for good, I say."
"Dut dur spirut lud." Borbon smiled and patted the otter's back whom smiled back at him. The four heroes of the yellow clad army looked out as the last of the army left, their distant war songs and drums disappearing after a long time. Eskert then spoke up "Perhaps we should help them hurry along then?"
"After some rest." Loy said in agreement. Night came as Eskert and others joined the garrison for dinner, and all was peaceful again in Redwall.
_
Dark times only matched the moonless night as Marthomis took a small lantern and made his way down the stairs. He had spent some time doing the duty Norma and Nafpha had told him of, taking food to Snot in the quiet of the night and keeping him company. His thoughts turned to Norma and Nafpha, each thought more painful than the last. He imagined the terrors they would witness, the abuses inflicted upon them. Nothing Frankfort had said to try to calm him had given him much means to sleep. The majority of the Southward army was now gone, and in its place a group of wardens to keep them safe from the outside world and keep them locked within their own abbey.
Marthomis made his way to the Great Hall, a silence fell over the entire abbey. Guards didn't think a bunch of abbey dwellers were much of a threat, and in a way they were right. Marthomis walked into this great hall, like many beasts had throughout Frankfort's time here. Many beasts passed and reflected here, they prayed to this single image. He had been interrupted by a mad creature calling himself Martin's chosen warrior. Curlor had run through these halls uncaringly, looking in anger for a small vermin whose only sin was being partly rude. He could smell the strong stench of a ferret who no doubt looked up in a spot close to Martin's depiction perhaps looking for help.
Marthomis perhaps didn't understand how much importance there was in this image, and he began to question it. Marthomis put his lantern down, looking up at Martin's depiction, one for which not too long ago he had so angrily cursed. In one way, he wondered if this was some manner of cruel punishment from Martin, although he knew in his heart this was not the case. Yet his mind raced with unpleasant things.
"Martin, I beg of you, please." Marthomis spoke softly to his tapestry whose uncaring eyes of fabric peered back at him, stoic as ever. He begged, his voice slowly beginning to crack. "Martin, if you can hear me, your abbey is in danger. Our youngsters are in danger. We need help more than ever."
"Martin. Can you hear me?"
"Cou-could you ever hear me?" Marthomis eyes began to water, barely able to hold on as he fell to his knees, as if realizing what he had already known. He sniffed and sobbed as he touched the altar, knowing he was truly alone. They were all alone, and that nothing was coming to help them or save him.
"Oh Martin, why couldn't you have been real." He said sadly. "I wish I could believe you, I wish now more than ever you would come to me as you once did, but it was just dreams! Dreams and fantasies. I failed you, I failed this abbey, I failed all of yo–" Marthomis stopped, sitting up as heard someone come down the hall, another light appearing in a hallway. It was a small creature, perhaps having seen him in his pathetic state, likely Borbon as it waddled close to him.
Yet, he saw the face of Bollo looking at him, putting the light of his lantern out as he looked at Marthomis. The abbot frowned "I do hope you had not heard much, my friend."
"I huard enough." Bollow sadly stated. He came close to the altar, looking up at Martin as both stared at the tapestry. Marthomis sniffed, clearing his eyes of tears as Bollo waited for him to recover.
"Dud I evur tull yuo huw cluse we cume to guving up, Murthomis?"
"What?"
Bollo turned to him "Whun me and Jue wure out in the country, Kulma wuth us as we strugglud to fund Murtin's swurd?" The abbot shook his head as Bollo got a big smile on his face, remembering his youth and adventure in such perfect detail, as if unnaturally. Yet to Bollo, it was such a strong memory.
"We hud no clue whut we wure duing, guing off of ruddles you pruvided. Fur a lung tume, we thought oursulves mud and luost, funding so luttle and expucting so much. We kupt seurching fur sumething, anythung we thought thut could leud us in the rught durection, only for us to duscover the ruddles are so vugue, it could muan anything. Jue and I thought we hud to guve up on it, thun we bugan to wunder if guing after the swurd was wurth it. I meun, evun you hud once suid, it is just a suord."
Marthomis listened, but his mood did not brighten. Bollo continued, his eyes transfixed upon Martin "Yut, me, Kulma, and Jue kupt on louking, we kupt fiunding thuse clues leuding to mure deud ends. Chused by a bug, evul snuke. Tryung to fund a beust of Kusg's hurde. We cume so cluse, so deurly cluse only fur us to be cuptured! I thunk in sume wuys, Jue wus just reliuved we wure no lunger in the furest. Thungs suemed quite hupeless thun, you knuw. Murtin's swurd wus in Kusg's puws, we wure cuptured and fuced the pruspect of spunding the rust of our luves in chuins, un Sulamandustron wus guing to be under suege. So muny beusts guve up hupe, so muny thought Kusg had wun. Yet, evun if we hud doubts, we kupt beliuving we could wun aguinst hum. We hud to, for we hud nuthing else."
Bollo smiled, speaking with a loving complexion "All thuse evul thungs pussed, abbut. All evul things puss in tiume, thuy gruw strung whun we wunt thum to gruw strung. We wurked vury hurd to gut Murtin's swurd buck, we wurked vury hurd to avunge our fullen and to put duwn thut evul raut fur goud. Kusg wus immurtal to muny beusts, an evul thut could nuver truly puss. He burned cuties, ensluved countless creutures, and huld vust armies thut seumed endluss and pointluss to resust agaunst. Yut, evun he pussed, as he and hus kiund alwuys do. Unless the vurmin cun fund a meuns to return frum dur deud. Evul like Kusg's only remauned because he relued on breuking othurs with feur and hupelessness. It muy just be a tupestry, abbut. Thuy can dufile our gruves and muck us, but we wull stull be hure. We wull resust them, and we wull nut giuve into thum. It muy be all thut we cun do, and I knuw Jue would nut give into thuse munsters."
Time. It was a concept which was perhaps the crux of the issue, it was both their enemy and their friend. Marthomis thought on it, his gaze returning to the old and legendary tapestry, looking upon it like a midnight sky. Bleak hope was always there, when Cluny once held all of Redwall for such a brief time, he wondered if its denizens would have given up. He wondered what manner of bravery kept beasts like Mattimeo retaining his dignity in the face of captivity. Perhaps they had no hope at one point, but yet opportunity and time was ever watchful, always granting the smallest fires of hope piece by piece. Redwall and those of it's friends and allies were beset on all sides by mountainous foes, so vast in their dark deeds and ruthless in their ambition.
Yet where were they now?
They were running, far and wide from Martin's sword, they were plastered in perfect humiliation upon the tapestry. Evil creatures fled in all directions, their deeds and legends nothing but history and poor memories. Whatever came in these next few years, they would all have to bear through it together, but Marthomis felt a glimmer of faith in his heart. Bollo kept his smile, his optimism making him pick up Marthomis's lantern simply asking "You wunt me to escurt you to beud, abbut?"
"Not yet, my good friend." Marthomis said "I have an apology to give."
Bollo only nodded and lit his lantern and went off to bed, leaving Marthomis to his thoughts. Perhaps there was no power, no spirit which guided them, but perhaps that was the point. If ghosts could overcome dark foes such as these, what manner of evil could stop those who believed?
