Chapter 56: The Road to Hell

Tarlo was never one to be impatient, as he always felt he had something to do. He was cultured afterall. He could read, write, and he had a gull for which he could feed and play around with. Peckers flew around, giving a loud screech every so often to remind Tarlo he was still there. Tarlo was not alone, as he stood with his trident in the sand, and his servant to the side.

Morland, unlike Tarlo, was not standing stoically and waiting. The otter was sitting on the sand with his paws on his face, one paw on the brand mark on his cheek. He had originally been waiting with his chin held high and his paws behind his back, but that was hours ago. Tarlo had noticed him sit, but had said nothing to him, as Morland felt his professionalism as Tarlo's servant was perhaps unneeded without an audience.

Tarlo stiffened and spoke up "Morland, get up, Grof approaches."

Morland's eyes went wide and quickly arose and dusted the sant from his white garments. The otter took up the servile position, keeping his paws behind his back and chin up as the old rat approached. Grof continued to nurse his accursed jaw, which he kept close with a bandage around his head, using a spear as a walking stick in the sand. Grof sighed and tried to speak up, although he kept his words blunt to avoid speaking in pain.

"Barffbo anff Sagffan arffe goiffng toff beff laffte, siffr."

"Oh." Tarlo frowned dramatically as Morland nearly was preparing to sit back down, but then there was loud banging of a drum. The group looked to the camp as Sagan and his crew began to march haphazardly towards Tarlo, joined by Barbo playing a small set of drums, his lizards and crew shortly behind. The corsair was joined by his daughter who listened intently, and her slave who kept behind her and his head bowed.

Tarlo's prisoner was in Sagan's care, his feet shackled as Sagan's 1st mate Brea kept a paw on the back of Canton's neck. Klaus and Peg were to Sagan's other side, enjoying a conversation with the rest of the crew. Barbo made a big and bombastic bow, handing his drums over to a lizard minion of his "My good Tarlo, do not tell me you have waited for so long!"

"Oh, no, of course not." Tarlo lied and smiled back. "If I may ask, what had caused you all to be so late?"

"Logistics my good cat." Barbo said quite excitedly. Barbo snapped his fingers and two of his lizards came forward with a big chest which Barbo slapped "If we are going to Redwall, we must go in flare and style! How can we ever present ourselves to the ghostly hero of Redwall, dear Martin, without coming with all manner of gifts and thematics?" Barbo opened the chest revealing this collection of dresses and fine silks, some with patterns of dried blood. Barbo put his paw into the collection, pulling out this fine royal garment which he admired.

"Dat, an der fact we are goin inland. Twasn't us taken so long bu–"

"Blaystedv striypedv dogb! Whereb is heb!" Tarlo turned to his fellow cat who marched with a line of thrall soldiers and cats who lorded over them. Al'zanyan was frustrated, as he came up to Tarlo and apologized "Sorryb I amb late, myb prince. The badbger Maylgorb, have youb seen himb?""

Tarlo shook his head.

"Cuyrsed stripeb dog." The foreign cat grunted.

"Strange, I hate to delay longer in leaving this place already."

"Perhaps, my good Tarlo, we can leave without the badger." Barbo happily suggested "We are after all well armed and ready to move out as it is, the longer we delay, the more likely we will be in a bad position to deal with the likes of this horde. That badger, even with the blood he has on his paws, will make any vermin keep a good distance from us. We are after all meant to be diplomatic."

"Ya just want to get der in a hurry, don't ya Barbo." Sagan grinned. Barbo dramatically feigned being caught "Oh my dear Sagan! How can you say such things! I am a beast of humble blood, which is why I most assuredly love live in a war camp, commanded by a beast who would so bravely send us out to perish in mass if he could. All this sand and dry sea air certainly will be missed, I assure you!"

Tarlo smiled and nearly chuckled, but in the presence of an older and wiser cat, even if a subordinate, Tarlo felt the need to keep a more serious voice. "We shall go without Malgor, if he so wished to join us, he should have joined us earlier." Tarlo approached Canton who weakly only looked up at him as he took him and gave him over to Barbo's daughter Penolpe. She pinched the sea otter's cheek in a harsh manner as Tarlo commanded him "And you will be respectful on this journey, for your sake and all the beasts here."

"Respect is ea–" Canton began to say before Barbo shifted around and grabbed his head and gave a wide, vile grin "Finish such a sentence, my dear Wildlough, and you will get a personal viewing of my wide and majestic collection of irons and shackles I have collected over the years and carry them as well." Canton silenced himself, fearful that whatever horrific museum of devices Barbo was bringing with him was certainly not just a threatening fantasy. Tarlo took up his trident and shouted to his host and comrades and soldiers "We make for Redwall! We will make servants of this brown horde and avenge the harm the vile conqueror Martin had done to my ancient kin! For Sandbeach! For our emperor!" There was a short cheer amongst the cats and their thralls who marched off with Tarlo who led them forward.

This grand parade of pirates and western folk alongside their thralls and minions marched off into the forest, heading ever onward into the east.
_

The sea otteress put her head through the tent flap of Minto's tent, who was standing over his desk, looking over maps and small figures upon tables. He gave an angry glance up and grunted, motioning with his paw to the slave and courier to approach. She gulped and came in cautiously, and spoke aloud to the cat commander whose scarred face coldly looked her over "My lord, Kamala of Sandbeach approaches, she asks to approach." Minto nodded, and the sea otteress disappeared. Shortly there after she and the foxess came in, with Minto looking up displeased.

"The courier doesn't come in again, slavebeast." He spitefully said "Get out." Realizing her mistake, she did so and swiftly as Kamala watched with a tiny glint of surprise. "I am surprised, Minto. For such creatures, you had such a habit of making them suffer and die. Has something happened to cause such change?"

Minto paused and shook his head. "Not very, I only respect beasts who know their place and learn at a good pace, Kamala." He said this as he looked at her, to which Kamala knew was directed towards her in particular "Perhaps, Minto, you should expand your horizons of those whom you respect?

"Only when they become worth respecting." Minto added, returning his gaze at his maps. He was thinking of an impossible scenario, breathing heavily as he thought on his next move with the mountain. Breaching into the mountain was one thing, fighting for it was another. Yet, once this fortress fell, it was all over, and he could get to doing the real war on Green Isle.

His train of thought was interrupted as Kamala drew close and spoke in a tone he really hated, that soft but poisoned tone she had when she was in the court of his accursed father. "You know why I am here then?"

"My brother finally left, I figured that out already."

"You have so little love for such things, do you." Kamala said, feigning disappointment. Minto stood up and faced her, his stare was demonic as he gave her an icy speech "I do actually. All this talk about intrigue not just bores me, I openly despise it. The only good thing about father is that he despised it too. Once they are done bringing that horde into our army, and I see their warlord willingly branding his own face with my father's mark, I will have taken the bleeding mountain."

"What if something goes wrong?" Kamala slowly smiled. She had told Maglor to do something rather special, and in many ways she was killing a lot of birds with one stone. If the Great Vermin Band was damaged from the meddling of Milo's adventurous agents. Tarlo was walking a grim path, and Minto couldn't seem to care less. Minto gave the fox an annoyed look, rolling his eyes as he returned to his maps.

"I know something will go wrong, especially now my brother must act as the commander. He has a great deal of help, but his friends, his prize, and everything else is a recipe for a disaster. Yet, as my brother, I am forced by father's word alone to hope he learns from his coming misery. The second guessing of command, furious commanders who talk of things like 'logistics' and 'casualties'. My brother is a recruiter, I command those who he recruits."

"If you brother did get into an accident, or something goes wrong, quite a tragedy I would say." Kamala spoke in a fine tone, and Minto seemed to softed as he thought. He spoke in a happy, fantastical tone "A tragedy for all except me. My brother, dead by his own paw, and I being proven to be the only competent son of my father. How wonderful." Minto then turned to Kamala, a smile on his face, which then quite suddenly became an angry frown. His pretend whimsy of his brother's demise made the fox slowly back away, seeing she had said something wrong.

"Don't tempt me, she-fox. My brother, for all of his idiocy, all of his naive tomfoolery, he is still a brother. I hate that we even share blood. I hate that he is father's favorite, the golden child who whines at basic pragmatism! It is truly a shock that he doesn't get himself killed by accident."

Kamala wanted to say her plans out loud, to share it with anyone. In many ways, she found Minto to be both the perfect imbecile and perfect replacement. Milo always raised Tarlo to be soft, Minto was tough and easy to manipulate, a fool with a temper. Tarlo was a puppet on different strings, which she tried to play at "I would never try to even imply, Minto. You know, me and your fath–"

"Finish that sentence, Kamala, and I'll have you fed to Mulkan's wolverines." Minto had already returned to his maps, boringly picking up one and squinting at it. He growled, slamming it back on the table and mumbling to himself. Kamala huffed "Try it, Minto, and you'll be wishing to be born as one of your own slaves."

Minto slowly began to chuckle "Kamala, you think father with punish me for killing you? Milo, my father, and his wretched blood. In your memory, father would yell some cruel words, slap me, and send me on my way. I could knock down your grave out of petty need to bully your spirit, and I would still remain unharmed." Minto gave a threatening grin at Kamala who did not back down, a game of try to out intimidate the other.

"Minto, I am not your enemy, yet even you must know there are enemies in this camp that seek your death. That desire your family's doom. I've been fighting them for a long time. Do you not even find it curious that Al'zanyan marched off with Tarlo, or that Tarlo hangs around with Barbo Senger? Westerners, from dry lands across the great sea."

Minto's evil grin began to fade as he thought on it, as Kamala began to reel him in. "Do you not find it curious that Kain is a western cat, so close to your father? Why do you think I had been in the north, convincing Mulkan to join into this alliance, or bringing these Juska savages to heel? Even your father knows there is an invisible enemy who strikes at us."

"Oh, I kno–"

"Do you truly, Minto Greeneyes?" Kamala smirked as Minto looked at her, having come close. Minto sighed and proceeded to push Kamala down onto the ground who landed with thud. Kamala quickly arose as Minto looked appeased as he commanded her again "Do your job and find the traitors, Kamala, if you would so kindly." Kamala looked at him angry, wiping herself off and marching out of the tent.

Minto grinned, knowing she could do nothing for it.
_

Minto was at the far end of the beach, a cloudy sky above him with a strong breeze. Before him, a miserable huddle of encamped vermin of the Greeneyed horde were building, the two camps separated. Mulkan and his vermin had set themselves up further down the beach, Nattar and his Juska were building huts and camp defenses in and around his camp, and it was around half of Minto's horde which had set up wooden pavilions as sea otter slaves made their way into the breached storage cavern hole, and continued to dig upward towards the hares and badgers. Minto looked out to sea, Gashan's vast fleet of pirates patrolled, some guiding ships from the western cats which continued to pour out elite reinforcements. From the forests, lines of vermin and woodlander prisoners were processed into the horde's camp, the unfortunate vermin caught had their faces branded, given weapons, and sent off to the front line. The woodlanders had their paws chained, set to work on slaving away for Minto's horde.

Minto kept his eye on the mountain, clothes flapping with the wind as he kept a hold of his trident, looking at hares who had stopped firing on the horde. They are running out of arrows, finally. Minto gave a grim smile, imagining the same hares having a tumble down their mountain, busting their heads onto rocks as their families were brought out in shackles to meet and bow to their new tyrant.

A fate he would so gladly bring to Green Isle when he got the chance.

A vermin soldier came forward, a lesser officer of some division of slave soldiers, a ferret or weasel of some sort who kept their low and bowed, pathetically speaking up "M-my lord, der teams are almost tunneled der way through all dat rock an' soil."

Minto ignored him, breathing in the sea air and closing his eyes, the crashes of thunderous waves and the screams of gulls. Soon there would be battle, and he could feel a rush as he imagined the badgers all snug in their holes, and he burned them out personally, the badger lord burnt and weak as he brought his trident down on his head. It was blissful.

"My l-lord?" The pathetic vermin asked, wondering if he was heard. Minto looked down with a stare that could snuff out fire, looking upon the vermin's branded and scared face.

"How long." He did not ask as much as demanded, the vermin answered with fright "Maybe in a few days, dependen on how long der workers can w–"

"Slaves." Minto corrected harshly. The vermin frowned and corrected himself "Der slavebeasts can work for, m-my lord. Give it less den a week, an' dem long ears and stripe dogs be exposed."

"Have them work faster, I want them done today." Minto commanded

"M-my lord, even if we whipped dem fas–" Minto grabbed the vermin's throat at almost lightning speed, choking him and raising him higher as the poor creature tried to struggle. Minto again closed his eyes, listening to the vermin suffer and the beach waves, imagining himself on Green Isle, the horde to his back. The vermin continued to struggle as Minto let him and he crashed into the ground, choking and coughing.

"Tell your master if he is not finished today, I'll put the bleeding cats in chains next and have them dig on through. We fight today."

The vermin scurried back to his commander at the front beach as Minto looked on. The vermin horde was setting up barricades, even though no frontward foray from the hares had come, especially not after the disastrous charge. Minto could wait, he could always refill his ranks, break down the servile beasts, and throw them at the hares without stop. He smirked to himself, but then frowned when he heard that ever guttural northern speech behind him.

"Arey wek readky yekt?" Mulkan's voice sounded deep as Minto turned to see the fox and his rabbit thrall. The thrall struggled in silence trying to get her master's armor on, a helm in her paws roughly taken and placed upon his head. Mulkan looked almost mad with boredom, but he wasn't exactly alone. Nattar had joined them, the Tapperung crossed his paws and looked on at the vast fortress, grunting at it. "Had you been stronger and less foolish, Minto, we probably wouldn't have even been needed."

Minto breathed in and out of his nose, needing to calm himself amongst these games of bullying and snarky remarks. Vermin like Mulkan and Nattar may not know their place now, but Minto tolerated their presence knowing he would soon have them as well on bended knee. Neither looked intimidated by the mountain fortress which had given both him and every vermin warlord before him such trouble.

"Prepare both of your armies, we take this mountain today." Minto gritted his fangs. Mulkan spoke up in an annoyed tone, pulling out his favorite war axe and pointed it to Minto "Ik commayndk my verkmin, Minto, noykt youk." Nattar spoke in agreement "Aye, we wait for you to be done, and we do the real work, cat."

"You are correct on that, vermin." Minto coldly remarked "I do the real work, and you two will provide all the fodder I need to purge this mountain of my father's enemies. Now, kindly return and prepare your vermin."

Mulkan pushed Minto aside as marched on ahead, his servant following after him. Nattar looked around, annoyed. Minto didn't really care what he was thinking, but yet the ferret lowered his voice to annoyed grunt "Where is that blasted pirate, aren't your minions suppose to be here?"

"They are patrolling the Long Patrol's mountain port, making sure none escape our wrath. That wall of sunken vessels prevents us from further going into it."

"What if they find a means to get out?"

Minto felt like he missed Kain's bumbling, although he was on the other side of the beach, skulking near a destroyed entrance. At least he was a cat who had a manner of mind he could somewhat speak to. Minto sighed "That is why, you insufferable gnat, that Gashan and his sea scum are even out there to begin with. Now for the love of God, the seasons, and whatever fool thing you worship, please gather your vermin!" Minto angrily pushed his way past Nattar as the cat picked up his trident from the sand, approaching the mountain ever closer, but not close enough for one of the spying snipers far above to make a lucky shot.

Minto began to smile again, imagining this great mountain becoming a volcano of his own design, fire spewing from its holes and smoke replacing the warm blue sky.
_

The oars on Gashan's ship hit the water lightly, as the vermin pirates all crowded to one side. Five other ships were gathered, with far many more patrolling all along the coast. Gashan himself stared at the messy 'wall' of galley ships which acted as an indomitable defense against yet another ill fated assault on the hare's harbor. Gashan heard his whipmaster to his back, a loud whip crack on some unimportant galley slave nearly shot him up to attention. He looked around to the back, his master of the rowers gleefully looking down at his work at some poor squirrel galley slave bent over on his oar, slightly weeping. Gashan squinted his eyes at the whipper who realized he had troubled his boss who apologized.

"Sorry mate, forgot to warn ya."

"Aye, ya did. You know who else forgot to warn me?" Gashan pointed to a grumbling rat not far off shackled to an oar, the previous whipmaster. The rat briefly looked at Gashan and others in anger, but just as quickly returned to the oar. Gashan didn't like using such a basic ship, his flagship was elsewhere and had a proper gallery, unlike this shorter overglorified transport vessel. Gashan rolled his eyes as he turned around, examining the vast wall and cringing at it.

"Ya dink we could do it again?" Gashan was joined by Zarkle, although a captain now of his own ship, Gashan wanted him on board when he met his 'allies' and 'friends'. Gashan shook his head "Nay, not even if Milo paid us double what he owed. It was too costly. I also don't particularly dink we'd get another chance again. Not so long as dem long ears an' der stripe dog masters know we are led by Minto der butcherer."

"Fer cats surrounded by nutten but der salty sea, dem folk sure act like the worst of landlubbers." the rat grinned, hoping his boss would have an improved mood. The weasel sighed deeply, his once proud memory of meeting a young and ambitious Milo and his father was now nothing more than a poor recall. He was grateful for being the master of the seas, but now he felt he was far over his head, and perhaps wondered if he had been hanged in Sandbeach things would just end up better for him.

"Cap'n! Got big ol' blue an' red flags coming out from der stern, sir!" The lookout yelped. Gashan lightly looked to the side, his allies having arrived.

Pent Pigrider and his blue clot great galley, The Wave Murmur, came up on the port side. Its massive blue sails practically melted with the sky on the horizon, and it's crew of professional looking privateers in nice, clean clothes and shining weapons with tabards of blue made them look almost like a group of woodlanders. Yet, it was not hard to know that behind that professionalism, the stoat's verminous nature showed brightly when he walked his deck. He arrived on Gashan's vessel with a crystal goblet in paw, drinking a fine alcoholic juice of berry mix, served by a blue clad hedgehog servant who kept his head down and held a great pitcher of his favored drink. Pent kept his nose up as he approached Gashan, two of his favored crew kept by his side were bodyguards, a creature who believed he was rightfully the heir to Gashan's great empire of piracy by vanity alone.

Gashan would have given him more attention until he heard a harsh crack of a whip nearly in front of him on the starboard. A massive red laden ship rowed itself into view, and coming onboard was Scarn. The wearat was less a pirate than a warlord with too many slaves, his crew of mostly ferrets were red painted thralls of near tribal origin and followed their strong leader around like children, the massive trident wielding horror of a creature stood tall over others, his lips dripped partly in blood from a fierce feast. He looked annoyed and angry, but then again, Gashan could often not tell of his intentions. wearats always looked annoyed and angry, even when passive. Pent kept his distance, covering his nose as he spoke up first.

"Captain Scarn, perhaps it would be prudent to move your ship from the view from the starboard side, matey, and may I suggest a quick ba-"

"Speak poor words to me Pent, and your tongue will be hanging from mast, scum."

Pent only rolled his eyes, but Gashan spoke up to Scarn "He asks ya to move yer ship fer me own sakes, Scarn."

Scarn was brave and difficult, but Gashan was grateful he wasn't stupid as the creature waved his trident in the air at his first mate, who pulled the ship forwards and farther north, but not out of view. Gashan looked to his fellow subordinates and spoke up "Captains Pent an' Scarn, come over here, I want ya to look at somethin important."

Both approached, although also came to Gashan's sides, barely able to stand one another. Gashan pointed at the giant wall to which Scarn grunted "Lost too many ships, Gashan. If I were in charge, I'd-"

"Ya would have built a bigger one." Pent quickly corrected, chugging down his drink. The blue clad corsair smiled deeply and wanted to chuckle to himself, but his little jest only got an angry glare from Scarn. Much like Scarn, Pent wasn't stupid and quickly turned more serious "Though I do must agree, this was a poor assault."

"Aye, an' we'd almost had dem badgers an' fools in our grasp too, though dat doesn't exactly help us now."

"Help 'us', Gashan?" Pent huffed. Gashan gave a dangerous eye to Pent who didn't seem very fearful "Milo offers us the sea, and Salamandastron lest we forget isn't in the sea, we gain nothing by attacking these forts on the cats request."

Gashan said nothing, instead pointing to the crumbling wall of broken ships and wrecks which formed this temporary wall between them and their prize. Pent looked forward, unsure of what he was suppose to be seeing until Gashan told him "Look beyond der wall, tell me what ya see."

Pent looked beyond the shipwreck wall, past the dockyard of the Long Patrol and towards the Mountain of the Sea which loomed like a great beast clothed in the shadow of the mountain port, ominous and foreboding with both its physical size and reputation. Many of a corsair ship was ended and sunk beneath the waves by the fierce hare built ship. For a people who fought so exclusively on land, Pent felt a shiver of fear just looking upon it.

"It's a bleeding hare ship." Scarn grunted, unimpressed.

Pent almost felt insulted, giving him a strange look. "It is, and it has escaped countless times, and sunk countless ships, wearat." Scarn proudly smirked at he spoke boastfully "Doubtful considering Barbo and his little friends outwitted it."

Gashan shook his head with slight frustration, as the two bickered even on the most mundane of things. Zarckle could see his boss struggled, but dared not speak up unless ordered to.

"Yes, but this is Barbo we are talking about you big buffoon. He used to run circles around all of our ships, and he also sunk a few as well. Even he couldn't take this ship, even with Sagan Black's help! Those two rogues and a Prince of Sandbeach couldn't take it, so do at least show some cleverness in respecting such artwork of a ship."

"The only respect I show these landlubbers, Pent, is having them either sold to Carch's pirates or having them row my ships. If those scum Sagan and Barbo can run around this ship, I can destroy it by boarding it! Hells, I could do so right now if I so wished!"

The pride in Scarn's voice was not shared by his meekish crew, as Gashan only shook his head. He yelled "Enough, der lot of ya! Mateys, look with your bleeding eyes out beyond der ship! Look!" Gashan pointed more specifically, and Pent looked forward, squinting his eyes. He still couldn't see very well in the darkness, but Scarn seemed to go silent, speaking up.

"The cretans are loading their ships? Do they mean to assault us at sea?"

Pent now had some clue at least, looking forward and also being surprised by what he saw. In the farther off shadows, as if in secret, hares and shrews were loading things upon the ship, making their repairs, and spotting an otter and shrew in officer colors taking count of arrows and bolts on one of the docks. Once satisfied, they loaded them onto the ships. Ships. Plural, as Pent looked closer, the shadows of other vessels could be seen in the dockyard. The hare fleet laid dormant and was readied for leave.

"Not today, Scarn, nor do they intend to deal with us most likely. At least, not directly." Gashan informed his large, disloyal vassal "They'll leave der port, likely in der night, an' try to destroy us in skirmishes. Either dat or attack the Sultan's supply ships."

"Dat is mad if they do." Zarckle spoke up "Ya don't dink they'd even try, boss?"

"Dey are trapped in a mountain wit little to do, and der port is safe but useless. Dey got a big an' fast ship dat can quickly sink any small fleet we send at it. Dey'll come out when we ain't watching, and I mean to give dem dat chance." Gashan gave a wide smirk, although his minions gave him strange looks. Scarn scratched his head "Ya anin't tellen der whisker faces?"

"Absolutely bloody not, an' let an opportunity like dis go to waste? In order to leave port, dey gotta remove dat wall. An once dey do, we'll rush on in, kill der hares, capture der peoples, an' be holden it ourselves."

Pent smiled at the idea "Oh. I see."

"Aye. Let Minto distract dem, an' while dem hares leave fer good, we'll be ruling dat mountain with one big push! I want yer ships to be less seen, ya three take more breaks, an' you'll be enjoying ancient badger treasures in yer lap an' hare servants callen ya master! Ha!" Gashan slapped the side of his boat, although the jovialness was not shared by Scarn.

"The bleeding cats won't be happy about it."

"Does it really matter if they are?" Pent asked

Scarn only began to smile, already the image in his mind of a burning port, corpses of hares dunking up and down in the waters, lines of their non-fighting family in chains being loaded unto his ships as he laughed into the air as the once invulnerable mountain began to crumble to dust, never to be rebuilt or used again against pirate and other sea folk. It was such a common thing for him to think about, something which invaded his mind if he ever had much thought towards it.

"Not really, I suppose."

"Good." Gashan smiled grimly and rubbed his paws together "Remember lads, keep it all in nutten but rumors an' even less so! Once der mountain be ours, an' der cats fume outside with dat wretched lot, den we can really get down to business." Gashan loved the idea of it, he loved that his fellow captains loved it, and he loved the thought of all the beasts he once had to call master would soon be showing him respect untold. The gleam of greed hit him, and with a calm and friendly slap on his shoulder from Zarckle, he awoke from his daydream and returned to reality.


Tarlo was used to leading others, even since he could remember his father was shoving smaller vermin to his side, told he would lead them, and he certainly would. They did everything he asked them to, but yet always in his heart he felt pity for them. They would sometimes weep for something lost or didn't like the way he played, so he changed for their sakes. Most of those vermin were gone now, either officers in his father's army or simply having dissipated into the Dark Forest. He was a leader, a Greeneyes, as he looked behind him and saw climbing up the hillsides of the highland slopes which lead into Mossflower's proper forests. Following the great south stream between two large mountains, Tarlo and his army marched upward. Tarlo frowned, calling back to his army "My friends, why the delay? We barely have made it very far!"

Coming up the hill exhausted first was the captain Al'zanyan who used his trident as a walking stick now. He coughed and looked a little tired, quickly speaking up "Youb must atb least try tob slow downb, not juystb for my sakeb, but yourb soldiers youyngb kitten. We dob not haveb the same blessingsb as youb do."

Tarlo's army, a group of western cats, rat marines from Sandbeach, Barbo and Sagan's crews, and a few straggler vermin he had picked up along the way lagged behind but kept formation. Tarlo nodded and yelled back "We'll rest farther down the river, but in brief!" Tarlo eyed Canton Wildlough being forced to keep pace alongside members of Sagan's crew, kicked and bruised with shackles on his legs. His own servants were behind him. As Tarlo turned, he and Al'zanyan heard a harsh gull's screech. Tarlo looked back towards the east as he crested the last major hill, joined by companions and friends to find his trusty gull and long time friend Peckers flying over the horizon. Before them was just one part of the vast forests of Mossflower, the land he would soon inherit and rule. Peckers had been circling the sky for hours, looking for signs of scouts or trouble, or even a village to raid for supplies and captives.

Yet, as Sagan and Barbo came up to him, the group standing on top of the hill, they could hear the distant beat of drums.

Tarlo squinted his eyes to the trees, hearing something farther off. He paused as Sagan listened in as well, a little bit surprised as he spoke up, interrupting the group wondering what was approaching.

"Dat tune, it sounds a bit familiar."

"Tuneb?" Al'zanyan asked. Sagan shrugged "Aye, tune. Can't ya hear it?"

Barbo listened closely as much as dramatically, pointing his ears towards the direction of the forest as the sound began to come closer and closer. Then from the trees a figure emerged just as the rest of Tarlo's army was upon the hill. Tarlo smiled, looking down to see something in strange colors, some manner of bright yellow. Had it been red or dark green, he'd have been concerned.

"A troupe you think?" Tarlo asked Sagan. He didn't respond, trying to listen, but Barbo's eyes went a bit wide and then drooped again as he spoke up "Aye, a troupe of soldiers I'd take it."

"Soldiersb? Militia you thinkb?" Al'zanyan asked. The singular figure which had appeared soon became ten, ten became a hundred, until a huge marching line began to slowly come out, their drums banging in marching step. Sagan looked shocked and quickly yelled back "Form up lines lad! We got bleeding Southwarders!?" Tarlo was paused for action as Barbo also yelled back to his lizards and crew "Form up ranks, my fellows! Tarlo, Al'zanyan, it would seem we have battle soon."

"Battle? Southward? You know of these creatures?"

"No doubt Mossflower allies, lad." Sagan explained "Large yella country in der farther off south, past a sandy desert. I raided der ships from time to time."

"I do as well, everyone does really. If they have any army here, they have come to reinforce." Al'zanyan nodded, speaking back to his cats in a language Tarlo barely understood, and he only raised his eyebrow at. He spoke up "Archers in front! A quick volley, I want a strong flank on both sides!"

Battle was not something he expected so soon, especially a pitched battle. Yet he was not the only one in surprise, for below the hill the army continued to chant and march, stopped only by the wave of its commander. Nosbub, the Black Twitch, twitched his whiskers and looked up the hill at the growing vermin force coming down to meet him. He was surprised by their number, but what they wore, and the variety he had not seen before. Whiskered felines who were of a stature similar to him marched out with heavy cloth and bows.

"Captain Gythan!" Nosbub cried out, and the otter rushed to his side. He saw the army on the hill as Nosbub simply yawned and stood his ground "Would you please show your country what the 2nd Army of Southward can do to this rabble, I'd rather not be late." Nosbub huffed and put his paws behind his back, simply looking upward. Gythan nodded, knowing his commander well, he hated pitched battles and thus left such things to him. Gythan raised his sword and yelled out orders and the Southward army became six columns which got into positions, rushing past Nosbub as if he were an obstacle.

Gythan looked up, at first relieved to see his enemy had brought these smaller bows which they brought to their front. Gythan yelled out "For Southward! Pikebeasts, forward! Crossbowbeasts, forward to the flank!" Pikes were raised in front as heavily armored black and yellow woodlanders marched forward, their stomping going forward. Bows were used against heavily armored beasts of Southward before to very limited effect, and Gythan expected a similar result. Yet, what he did not suspect was when these archers seemingly took positions, and fired their bows from such an incredible distance. The arrows flew across the battlefield, and much to the surprise of Southward was hitting their pikemen in them middle of the column, the arrows piercing partly into armor and shattering into splinters upon it. Beasts cried out in horror as the western cats unleashed volley after volley.

Al'zanyan was experienced, and was a bit baffled when the main Southward army advanced up hill in such heavy gear. Armor meant little to his people and the way he commanded armies, but he and Tarlo looked at each other in worry when many of the arrows began to shatter against the armor or not do as much damage as they hoped. Rather then shaking or routing as thet suspected, this division simply fell back to safety with such speed, quickly replaced by crossbowbeasts. The cats continued to outrange their foe, but this enemy brought forth large and thick tower shields for which when a division stopped once in range of their foe had dropped and hid behind. The arrows of the cats clanged like rain against them as the Southward crossbows were mounted upon the shields, balancing them as they shot at their foe. Al'zanyan would have ordered his soldiers forward had he not seen a large line of soldiers on the flank, matching his own.

"Hold the hill!" Tarlo shouted orders as the soldiers advanced. The elite archers began to retreat behind the hordes of pirates and verminous thralls who replaced them, shouting myriads of battle cries and curses as they flung themselves at their foes. Tarlo took up his trident, joined by Barbo and Sagan as they crashed into the main host together.

Nosbub simply watched, despite the fact he hated watching. He had no desire to join in the melee as Gythan tore apart Tarlo's horde little by little, piece by piece. One Southward soldier angrily slashed down upon the neck of a pirate, another corsair of Barbo's crew failed to bring his saber onto the armor of a hare soldier fighting him, and the cat elite began to falter and break as they were focused upon by crossbowbeasts who made their way through the flank. Lightly armored and armed vermin faltered to make ground, as more and more Southward soldiers began to appear from the forests. With every casualty to Southward, two more took their place as the vermin dwindled.

Al'zanyan could see the writing on the wall as a pike pierced through his cotton armor and knocked away his helm, a crossbow bolt cutting through a part of his face. Tarlo and his friends held up well, but slowly he could see them getting surrounded. He fought his way over to them, grabbing Tarlo, and screaming out orders the best he could over the yells of war.

"Web are lostb, Tarlob! Go! Getb tob derb forest" Tarlo was about to speak in defiance to this, until a crossbow bolt hit Al'zanyan on his side. Barbo quickly spoke up, pushing Tarlo aside before another bolt got him as well. Tarlo did as ordered, he and his friends fighting through to the forest.

Tarlo looked back for but an instant, seeing Al'zanyan battle against an increasing number of foes, fighting against pikes and swords as he called for retreat. Al'zanyan turned, only for his trident to clash against the sword of an otter, Gythan disarming his foe and ramming his sword through the cat at deadly speed. The last thing Al'zanyan saw was Tarlo rushing through bushes looking back at him in fear. Yet, as Al'zanyan fell to the ground, looking up at the sky, giving one barely eligible prayer to his God, the sword of Gythan came down quickly upon him.
_

It had been an hour since the army had lost to this new foe which was now picking off survivors and rummaging the battlefield. Tarlo looked from the bushes, but at least he wasn't alone. Above him on the branch was Peckers who scratched at his belly, Barbo who kept his head down, and Sagan who was not far. Sagan was looking uphill, waving his captain's hat at his first mate in the far off distance, although he was unsure if she saw him or not. Tarlo was saddened to see Al'zanyan's body upon the field, unburied, but yet was fascinated by this new foe. This enemy from the south formed up in line just as swiftly as it got into formation for battle, and were off marching again as if the battle had not even happened, carrying away their dead, followed by a line of supply wagons pulled and operated by vermin he could only describe as slaves. These Southwarders did not take prisoners, they simply killed those who tried to surrender and were found wounded. One older cat tried to surrender to two confused looking pikebeasts, and was slain near immediately.

"Is this–" Tarlo at first began to ask, feeling stupid as he said it, wondering if this was just common knowledge "Is this normal for these Southwarders?"

"No. It is not." Barbo said, in a more serious tone "I've never seen woodlanders act like this, nor get so organized. Sagan, do you perhaps know anything of this?"

"Nay, Barbo. I'd say dis is a bit knew as well. I know Southward got plenty of warships which is why we ain't gone south, but dis army an' how it be acten seems a bit too verminous fer me. Odd to see hares, otters, an' even squirrels doin all dat. Ya see dem stupid, poor sods doin all dat heavy liften?"

Barbo looked at the serfs with a bored tone, raising an eyebrow to their treatment and condition. "I did, I see a few woodlanders amongst them as well. I'd say it is quite interesting in some regard if we weren't just decimated by them, I'd have loved to taken some of them on as servants and crew. Sadly, they will have to await their day of rescue by the handsome and beautiful Barbo Senger at a later date."

Barbo looked distracted, they were far enough from the battlefield and it seems the main army was marching on. Tarlo sighed "We should return quickly to my brother's camp, warn them of the danger."

"Or–" Barbo spoke up suddenly, turning to Tarlo with a grin on his face "Let Sagan's crew and my lizards return to camp for us and do that. Your brother will find out regardless of what is happening."

"I really should be there for him."

"So he can yell at you for losing a captain and army?"

Tarlo frowned and looked at his partly dead army, he lost quite a bit of vermin. He wondered if this is what Minto felt like, losing so many and yet feeling so little for it. It was true he was sad over Al'zanyan's demise, but yet he felt hollow to the average crewmate, rat, and cat who were killed in far worse or slower ways here. The idea of facing his brother so he could mock him didn't sit very well with him either. The bushes to their right moved and all three quickly and silently gripped their weapons, expecting some manner of scout. Coming through the bushes, Penolpe Senger appeared and Barbo rushed over and grabbed her, looking her over. The two stoats smiled and embraced as Tarlo felt warm hearted.

"Fasha, I had expected the worst to be honest."

"I had as well, my dear." The bushes moved again, and coming through was three otters, although much to the relief of the group, it was otters they knew. Gapper came through holding Canton's shoulder in a light grip. Penople explained "Soon as the battle began, this one tried to make a run for it, I pursued. By the time we returned, the whole hill was overrun." Canton was out of breath and more bruised when he had first began to march, likely caught up to by the corsairess and her servant. The last otter, Morland came up to Tarlo, shouldering a large pack on his back "My lord."

Tarlo was a little surprised to see Morland, looking around as if expecting to see Grof or his marines. "Morland, have you seen Grof?"

"They fled back towards the coast, sir. I think they may have been looking for you."

"Yet you came into the forest, you knew I was here?"

"Yes, erm, sir." Morland pointed to the white gull on top of the tree "I could see you and Barbo flee into the brush. I collected what I could, though it ain't much."

Sagan intervened "Me crew, did most get out safely?"

"Soon as the cats fell, your first mate called a retreat. I think she saw you briefly, but you folk were too far off to find or catch up with. That army is moving too fast and with purpose. I just so happened to find these three here as well, though Penople thought I was running as well–" Barbo chuckled at the comment and interrupted "You see, Tarlo, even in defeat we find strange victories. We now have everything we need to get to Redwall."

Even Penople looked at her father weirdly and spoke up, perhaps the first time with some defiance as much as being confused "Fasha, we have no army."

"We don't need an army my daughter, we have Tarlo's magnificent tongue! My brilliant wit! Sagan's swashbuckling prowess!" Barbo sounded quite excited, as he contained his excitement as to not draw attention from any scouts of this enemy army. "The army and our crews are lost, sure, but is this not a better story? There is no doubt still an entire vermin army at Redwall, no doubt one which when we arrive will be more friendly to us as hapless and poor adventurers! With guile we will turn these strange vermin to our side, we'll take the abbey, and then return to your brother at the moment of his worst hour! We'll arrive in glory and be showered in praise! Praise for which is well deserved. Not to mention, Tarlo, your brother I am certain would be more appreciative if we keep in contact with him."

Barbo snapped at the group, pointing to Peckers who turned to Barbo as well upon hearing him. "We shall give a cryptic and highly controversial message, one for which will foretell our return in due time, and have our dear friend's pet deliver it. Naturally of course to give hope to our return."

"Ya got a pen ink an' paper, Barbo?"

"Ink, absolutely. Paper though–" Barbo came over to Canton, ripping a part of shit much to the otter's annoyance and shook it. He sat down near a small rock, writing out some long winded message. Tarlo spoke in agreement "You seem confident in this Barbo, and if you are confident, so am I. And you Sagan?"

"I'd say it be fer der best, matey. Unless ya want to trail dat army all der way back to yer brother's camp."

"To Redwall it is then!" Barbo finished his message and tied it to a small rock, to which Tarlo ripped a small part of his green cape and tied it to Peckers and ordered him to fly over the horizon and back to camp. As Peckers disappeared past trees and brush, Barbo began to whistle a tune and began to order a march, as if impatient "Come now, my friends! We have quite a story to write!"

Tarlo felt like he was losing track of much, but yet he smiled and simply followed. He soon began to lead once again, his friends and servants behind him as they marched off into the forest of Mossflower.
_

Nosbub's army began to set up camp for the evening within view of Salamandastron for which he didn't bother to look, only believing what his scouts had told him. He was told the mountain was distant, and Nosbub couldn't care less. The Southward army buried their dead, dressed their wounded, and set up an orderly tent as their new serfs learned and set up palisades around the camp and cooked food for the soldiers. Nosbub was looking deeply at a map of Mossflower, pilfered from the libraries of Redwall to which he was setting out a plan, one not built on the chaos which had brought him so far, but something more orderly.

He began to smile.

Followed by a pained twitch to his head which caused him to growl. For all of his life this pain had afflicted him, he told others he learned to live with it, but yet in truth he despised it. He wanted to curse something, anything for this random and unpredictable pain. For a mind like his own, for the powerful brood he was born to, it was this horrible twitch which made him hate and agonize. No beast in Southward hated or bullied him for it, he was loved and pitied, but he didn't want love or pity! He wanted it to stop. If there was anything that could provide that relief he knew of, he believed he would go on some grand journey to find it, but he had other ideas. Orderly ideas.

He peered at a small token on his map where Frankfort and his army were going, to fight and remove this cancerous growth of vermin in the north, while he went and dealt with vermin on the beach, laying siege to a fortress. With good supply lines from southern Mossflower, he could simply sit and relax while everyone else did much of the work for him. Soon enough, both vermin and woodlanders would have bent their heads beneath the black and yellow banner of his army, Prince Frankfort would be humiliated or dead, and he'll be truly in charge.

"General Nosbub." The Black Twitch looked up from his desk to see Terrance standing in the tent's portal, to which he would have grunted had he not gotten a twitch to his eye.

"Yes, Terrance?" Nosbub asked, annoyed, the fellow hare having none of it and spoke up and insulted "Scout Captain 3rd-Class Dragoon, to you, sir."

"I do hope this is some manner of insubordination."

"It may just be–"

"Let me through! Sir! This is ridiculous!" Esmert's voice carried over into the tent, which didn't exactly fill Nosbub with much glee either. Despite his loyalties and being of sound mind in Nosbub's opinion, Esmert's voice and arrogance was something to be competed against, not enjoyed. Nosbub went outside of his tent, and with Esmert and his soldiers surrounded a large group of youngsters who held each other closer, some of them far worse for wear. Terrance gave an angry look to Esmert as Nosbub quickly figured out what was happening.

"Oh, right. Frankfort's little pet project he put onto the 2nd Army. How could I forget." Nosbub frowned, but even as he plotted, he still had to play the role of subordinate to a fool. He looked down at the frightened creatures as Terrance spoke up "That one, over there, looks whipped."

"Yes, they are." Esmert said almost proudly, puffing out his chest which slapped with the golden royal collar he wore "These are future denizens and soldiers of Southward learning under rightful military law, to obey and learn under us, former Long Patrol. Do you take issue with such things?"

"Depends on what you say next, spiked back."

"Enough the both of you." Nosbub growled out lowly, fixing himself as he approached the group. In the front was Nuck and Darper, with Norma behind Darper and holding his back closely, with Nafpha trying to stand bravely. Yet the youngsters of Redwall remained silent, fearfully looking at Esmert whose whip hung from his side. Nosbub spoke up "I am Nosbub of the 2nd army of Southward, and you must be the brats and other undesirables whom have been on the path to corruption. My prince believes a few seasons of marching in this army will turn you into more upright creatures, though that has yet to be seen."

The Black Twitch had a twitch in his eye, something which Nuck noticed. He would have spoken up in defiance, had not the angry glare of Esmert been kept over them. Esmert growled "What do you want done with them, general? Add them to the serfs?"

Norma and Nafpha looked over at some of the vermin serfs who had been watching, some of them not much older, some of them even younger, then they were. Norma was mortified to see some missing eyes, paws, fingers, and especially tails. Yet, one of the taskmasters quickly unfurled a whip and cracked it over their heads and the ground went to the ground shaking and dispersing to their jobs swiftly. Nosbub's grunt got their attention again as he spoke up.

"No, don't be daft, captain." There was some relief from the crowd, up until Nosbub continued "Add them to the main army and have them drilled with the rest of the soldiers. I want them in the front at some point."

Terrance spoke up "General Nosbub, that's–"

"This is our way with dealing with insubordination and corruption, Scout Captain 3rd-something Dragwhat, Terrance von Blumwhatever. This is how I deal with it, and how Frankfort deals with it. These youngsters are in my army, and armies are made up of soldiers who kill and fight for a good cause, our cause. They'll need to learn to kill soon enough, and nothing is more perfect for them to be apart of a siege, and to slay vermin on that beach. I am not throwing them into lines and pushing them at an enemy, they will be drilled by Captain Esmert. Now, do I make myself clear on that? Now do something a bit more useful than questioning our methods and find any survivors to this enemy army."

Terrance looked between the horrified youngsters and Nosbub, and only gave an affirmative grunt. Darper frowned as the former Long Patrol turned from Nosbub and marched off towards his fellow traitor hairs in silence. Nosbub clapped his paws together, getting everyone's attention. "Esmert! Get this rabble doing something useful. Gythan!" The otter captain appeared as if from nowhere, giving an estranged look to the youngsters before Nosbub began to command him about. "I want a status report on our troops, and also tell Captain Murchan to come to my office at once. I wanted to speak to him in particular."

"Of course, sir." Gythan watched as Esmert kicked and shoved the youngsters away from the sight of Nosbub, pushed into their own section of the camp and began to being delegated to new tasks. Gythan found the whole affair more odd than appalling, remembering his own father's insistence on order and marching at such an age. Yet, it was a tradition for him and his own Holt, for beasts like Esmert, order was a punishment. Nosbub awaited as Gythan went off and it wasn't long before Murchan appeared, the arrogant hare giving a slight bow to the smaller blackish superior.

"Gather up some four to five captains of your choice, Murchan. We meet in my tent at midnight." Murchan only nodded and obeyed, saluting him as he went. Nosbub didn't smile, he only returned to his tent, satisfied that all he had done earned him a nice drink. He sat back, and chugged down some decent wine, a smile across his face interrupted only by a choking twitch of his neck.
_

Darkness came over the Southward camp as Gythan walked the camp with Norma by his side. Norma remained silent, having the badge of a medic strapped to her shoulder after being picked up by the 2nd Army's medical officer. A passion she had once for healing the sick felt depressing, knowing one soldier she had worked to change the bandages on earlier was one of the soldiers who invaded the main infirmary at Redwall. In her paws was a big wooden plate, with a large bottle of Southward cinnamon & creme wine with six small crystal goblets on top of it. Not too long ago she was a medic, but now Esmert commanded her to do one of his duties; finding Nosbub and his captains their drink.

Her escort, to make sure she did things right was the silent Gythan, who only grunted and said very little, a partial cut from a previous battle above his left brow and his left ear clipped. He seemed unfazed, noticing only when Norma faltered to look at him did he speak.

"I would not keep the Black Twitch waiting."

Norma lowly growled "You folk want us to fight, but we need to be shepherded like children?"

Gythan rolled his eyes and motioned his head to the side to a group of vermin serfs meandering near one of the fires, resting after a long day's work. "They are older than you but also need to be shepherded, like children. However, they only respond to violence and strength, so we give it in kind. I do hope the otters in Mossflower are not the same. For your sake more than mine."

Norma held her tongue, at first trying to curse beneath her breath but Gythan spoke up again "Curse young lady and you'll be having half rations for a week."

"Can ya folk get any less cruel?"

"Cruel?" Gythan asked, insulted "This is a bleeding army, youngster. If you wanted cruel, Emsert would have half of you march out digging ditches. Hells, if my father was in charge, he'd march all of you out to dig ditches till morning just for talking back to him. Just keep your nose down and do as your officer says."

The two came to the foot of Nosbub's tent which glowed lightly with whisperings from all those inside. Unannounced, Gythan walked on in first, followed by Norma in which she got to see this gaggle of strangers within. Nosbub hovered over his desk, looking both surprised and angry to see both of them, with Murchan standing by his side. Terrance was to the other side, with four other captains of the 2nd Army meandering about. One hedgehogess arose, smiling as she smelled the strong drink. Norma came forward, struggling to put the small plate, goblets, and wine upon a free space on the table as Nosbub grunted "I do hope for Esmert's sake he is sick and with the plague, Captain Gythan."

"No, sir." Gythan answered, looking around a bit baffled. "Captain Elyan? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Oh. I was, Murch–"

"Tis none of your business, Gythan." Murchan huffed. Nosbub said nothing, but simply stared in agreement. Gythan sighed and spoke up "If this is the case, I will need to re-order our troop deployment for tomorrow."

"Why?" Nosbub grunted in annoyance "We all heard Terrance's report. The vermin are all separated on the beach into three camps–"

"Four camps." Terrance interjected. Nosbub twitched his head and again grunted "Four bleeding camps. We'll attack the main and largest camp, and then wipe the field with them as we did here. We'll barely need to do much other than scare them into the sea and they will drown themselves."

Gythan sighed in frustration "Sir, they are separated into four camps because its one larger horde. Scout Captain Terrance, you said you had seen some larger figures amongst them, right? White and gray vermin, and–"

"Badgers commanding their minions, Gythan." Murchan said proudly, as if privy to such hidden knowledge "Shackleford was wrong about one thing, these badgers are far from subtle." Terrance had not said anything about badgers, but Gythan looked to his commander for some sense but got none. Nosbub only poured a glass for himself and shooed him away.

"Terrance. Gythan. Do what you must without these captains and their divisions, they will be on more discreet affairs." Gythan and Terrance left with Norma between them as Elyan gave an inquisitive look to her General. Everyone poured themself a drink as Nosbub spoke up once he was sure they had left. "Now, back to business, you all know what I want of you?"

Haylan, a mouse captain of Frankfort yawned in a bored tone but spoke up first "March all the way to front of Frankfort's army, destroy vermin outposts and garrisons, deal out justice, and of course give all the prisoners of traitors and vermin to Murchan and have them sent back to Palewind. Simple as pie, boss."

"Simple indeed." Nosbub grunted. Murchan gave a deathly stare to the mouse who didn't even both to look at him back, drinking lightly of his drink and smiling. Elyan spoke up "Sir, if I may ask–"

"You may briefly." Nosbub retorted. Elyan kept her speech simple and short, never wishing to offend the Black Twitch "Sir, aren't we needed here? Can't the 1st and 3rd Armies deal with the enemy outposts and deal out justice?"

Murchan answered for Nosbub, a clear hint of spite and impatient frustration in his voice, a form of zeal and authority for which he spoke spooked the hedgehogess "We do this as a means of helping out our fellow Woodlanders against this vile enemy, Captain. As the charge of this little campaign, we will need to pick up the slack that those incompetents Kelsum and Gosland leave in their wake. By providing support, we'll be expanding the reach of the 2nd Army as we sit in the field, laying siege to the homes of the Badger Lords."

Haylan spoke up in a somewhat mocking tone "Sure, Captain Murchan, but let us not forget just one problem here. You want us to destroy the vermin, make it easier for the Prince and his armies to march through Mossflower, but then we have to also collect vermin and traitor Woodlanders and send them back down to Palewind? We have ropes, some of us will need chain as well, but it does seem a bit wasteful, don't ya think?"

"It is far from wasteful, Captain Haylan." Nosbub retorted, reminding the mouse of his place despite his insistence of not listening. "We'll need new laborers for those lost in the purges down south, and there are plenty of these vermin who will likely surrender. We'll need stronger beasts, and strong laborers, especially if things go south and we need them to start building something more formidable. Castles and keeps won us the war against the lizards, not pitched battles as some would love to claim."

Some of the captains looked unsure. It was bad enough for captains like Elyan to see smaller woodlanders, even those she was told were corrupted by evil teachings, reduced down to servile roles under Esmert. Then there were captains like Haylan, uncaring as he was to most other's suffering, but still had a heart for the unprivileged, being a former peasant himself. Nosbub at first thought he would wish for more captains like Murchan, loyal and obedient to his commands, with no real motivation to follow some established morality outside of what orders his superiors passed down to them. Yet, Nosbub also disliked the whole idea of it, knowing Murchan was a useful idiot, with 'idiot' being the strong word to describe his character.

"Listen to me closely, all of you." Nosbub spoke with them, a twitch to his head and a sneer to his voice. "Ever since we came here, we have seen the depravity of our enemies, the murderous horror they inflict on others. Do any of you wish what happened at Palewind, at Banzlow, to happen again? I sure do hope not, for all of your sakes. We need those laborers with us, serving us rather than their dark masters. You have your orders, for the sake of this country, I will expect results."

The captains looked between one another, but one by one they began to slowly nod their heads, as Nosbub hoped. Their reasonings could have varied, but yet all shared the same trait; fear of him and his words. Nosbub thought Eylan didn't wish to disappoint her superior officer by denying him, Murchan wanted to be in his inner circle, and Haylan might have wanted something else entirely. It mattered not, orders were orders.

"You have until tomorrow morning to be out of my camp and on your way, take your time wisely." Nosbub dismissed them. The captain made their farewells and made their way out, and Murchan nearly did too until a twitching hand caught his shoulder and held him firm. Nosbub and Murchan were alone for a brief time, as Murchan turned his attention to the Black Twitch who was giving an uncanny smile. Nosbub's eye twitched, the scrawny black hare looked pathetic in comparison to Murchan who stood more valiantly before him.

"Captain Murchan. I got a special assignment for you while you are out there, collecting serfs for this army."

"Yes, sir?"

"You will be in command, and you will make that known to them. I want you to take those you don't think are fairly strong, or worthy, of building our forts back down south. I want you to dispose of them, liquidate them out of sight of our own, but be sure to display them for the advancing vermin. Try to make it look like the vermin did it."

"Unworthy, sir?"

"Small. Old. Whatever you think is appropriate. Remove traitors too. Can you do this for me?"

Murchan nodded his head, giving a small smile himself. "Oh, of course sar. It will be done."

"Good, Captain Murchan. You are a credit to our kingdom, our people. May the Bellmaker bless your hunt."


Dagor stood stoically at the entrance to Salamandastron, looking on as hares rushed past him and others were putting on armor or sharpening weapons. Biggum stood next to him, an ever serious look upon his face, his eyes gazed on those all around him. His eyes may have been looking forward, but senses were all around him. Those approached too closely to the general were quick to feel a sense of questions as to what they were doing or what they planned to do, answers they should have already known. The King leaned on his battleaxe, his garb was more barbaric than his departed father's, and yet just as regal. It was darker, more vibrant in colors of his cape. He was prepared for this day.

Today was the day of a grand battle, he breathed in and out. He never liked to show excitement, even to the bloodthirsty hares around him, how much he loved a good battle. The thrill, the energy of coming and wiping out a dozen or more vermin in a single charge.

"The scouts, what do they report?" Dagor broke the mood with Biggum, the hare stood to attention and repeated what he remembered from their reports

"Two armies, sar. Doufy says around half of the main villanous force at our gates are weakened and demoralized from our pelting, but we ran out of arrows, so expect one last volley before we charge on in. The rest, being their elite force, is in their traditional camp further off, with the cats leading them."

Dagor nodded. The plan was simple as it was bloody. They would salley out again, but this time with a more specific goal.

To destroy the Greeneyes tunneling beneath them.

Dagor could hear it, most could not, but he held some means of hearing them in the back of his head. Sea otter slaves mined away in what were the former supply rooms, burned by Salgor in trying to prevent a breach caused by his dreaded traitor brother Malgor.

Malgor. The name made the badger's fury begin to build, even mentioning it.

My brother.

"Sir?"

Dagor looked to Biggum, who was looking up a bit curiously at him. He turned again, seeing another brother, just as less loved, standing there with a grim, although perhaps sad, expression on his face. Next to him was Gambit, the sea otter twirling a javelin in one paw before sliding it swiftly into a pouch on his back. The Islander looked about as ready as ever, but his brother looked like he was about to hurl. Dagor and Salgor looked at one another for a bit, awkwardly before Dagor spoke up.

"My mountainous brother, are you ready?"

There was no answer.

Dagor waited, even slightly smirking to break the mood, but he began to somewhat worry when Salgor only continued to stare at him. They both blinked. Biggum was about to speak up, feeling a bit insulted, but Dagor spoke first "Salgor, I now you as stubborn, not as deaf."

"I heard you, my lord."

"Oh."

"Hmph."

Salgor's looked moody, even as battle was soon to be joined, he looked more like a grumpy teenager unsure where he was supposed to be or to do. Salgor was in his regular armor, his favored claymore Slayer upon his side, ready to be taken up. Dagor spoke up, giving them commands

"Battle will be joined soon, Salgor. Our main force is going to go out and I will be leading them. We will be reinforced from the forest by another force, this will buy us time. Time for which you will be taking the lead on. You–"

"An' me." Gambit quickly spoke to remind Dagor, who grunted in response. He continued "You and your friend will lead a secondary force to snuff out the tunnelers, and free the slaves within, collapse the tunnels, and be safe back inside. I will buy you and others time. I can spare around five to seven hares, but I need every able woodlander on my front line."

Salgor sighed and only nodded. Dagor frowned and without much warning grabbed onto the chainmail of Salgor's shirt and pulled him, dragging him to the side to which Salgor did not resist. It turned quite a few heads, as Dagor looked at his brother frustrated. Salgor's eyes widened with change, and frowned as well. Like a child, Salgor looked lost and confused, as Dagor spoke with a strong tone.

"Salgor, are you ill?"

"No?"

"You act like you are."

"Does it matter, Dagor?" Salgor's stubbornness, and that hint of anger, returned to him. "I think you made your opinion very clear."

"I did, and now I am going to remind you of this thing we call 'responsibility', Salgor. You want to lead some hares? This is your chance, and guess what, if you don't start getting ready and stop acting like a child, the hares won't follow you, and you will end up following them. They cannot feel lost as you are, brother, for all of our sakes!" Dagor tried to keep a whisper, as Salgor still gave him a cold expression. Dagor only sighed and shook his head, letting go of him.

"Seasons help us if you ever lead this mountain, Salgor."

"As you and everyone else is fond of reminding me."

"Is it not true?"

Salgor snapped back "How can I live in this accursed situation where you both want me here and not!? Make up your mind, Dagor!"

Salgor had not realized, but he had yelled out this which now definitely began to turn heads to him. He looked around, despairing a bit before sighing and calming down. Dagor looked at his brother, in a strange way pitying him. Salgor spoke up "It will be done, my lord."

"Salgor."

"What."

Dagor put his paw on his brother's shoulder, and tried to give a smile. This did not calm Salgor as much as wonder what manner of cruel and ironic word he would speak. Yet, when Dagor spoke, he spoke with a softness he had not heard from his brother in a long time. It reminded him a bit too much of his father.

"Salgor, I am not harsh on you because I despise you. You are my brother. I want you to know this, truly, that no matter what happens, you are my last true brother. The last of pa's line. You are leading this rescue because its safe, not for you, but for this mountain. If I am to perish, you will take my place, you must, otherwise Malgor and his new cronies win. I wished you understand that, Salgor. If I fall, seasons help us all."

Salgor wanted to speak, he wanted to say to Dagor 'you only say this now to hide your mockery' or 'you don't really mean it'. Yet, Salgor felt this was all his brother could conjure to speak normally to him. The two stared at one another, and with a loud sigh, Salgor only nodded. Dagor allowed him to leave back to Gambit, not less grim but less mopey. I need that mountain to become an avalanche today, seasons help us.

"Dagor!" a loud and squeaky voice was heard as Dagor turned to see his little sister Nazla rushing to him. Following close behind her was his mother Narsa. Nazla hugged Dagor's leg as he bent down and hugged her back. "Mum, Nazla."

"My lord."

"Please, only Salgor should be saying that mum." Dagor smiled in an arrogant way, but got a slight slap across his nose. Narsa did not look pleased, wagging a finger "Treat your brother rightly, you are lord of these hares Dagor Ironpaw, not tyrant of this family." Nazla let go and came next to her mother as Dagor puffed out his chest and spoke highly. "This shouldn't take too long. Once we get the tunnels secured, we should be able to sleep well tonight."

"Maybe ya will kick all those vermin into the sea."

"If only we were so lucky." Nazla looked to Salgor talking to Gambit, and nearly scurried on over to him to bother him, but was caught by her cloak and pulled quickly over to her mother again "No. Leave the Stone alone, he is already in a poor mood as it is. I can't afford for my last brother to be in a worse mood."

Narsa's smile began to frown at a memory. Dagor knew the look, it was a hard and weepy look as he hugged his mother lightly and she hugged him back. Nazla dared not move to try to ruin such a moment, as Dagor spoke to her "Mum, I will avenge him."

"Please, Dagor, bring him back alive. I can't. I can't bare to lose ano–" She croaked, as Dagor held her tighter, not answering her. He knew by sometime soon, if he was lucky (or unlucky) he would soon be a kinslayer. Malgor. I'll find you.

I will kill you.

"My lords! Sirs!" Dagor turned his head slightly to a large and blump hare running from the halls deeper in the mountain. Hares looked to him as the large and sweating woodlander rushed with a poor breath, stopping to catch it. It was Biggum's son, Sarl, who tried to quickly come to attention as Biggum marched over with anger and began to speak in a poor tune to him.

"Sarl, you are supposed to be in Barfoof's l–"

"I volunteered to bring back th–"

"You volunteered to get out of the bleeding fight!? Coward. Get your armor and weapons ready, you join Salgor's division. Now." Sarl was speechless as Biggum yelled out "Barfoof's hares leave the tunnel, we leave at once! Everyone to the door! My lord, we make our move on your ready!" The hares began to finish the drawing of their weapons, clanging metal and grunts of affirmations as hares rushed to the door and made ready. Younger couriers of the families inside the mountain rushed to positions above to give word of the coming attack to archers awaiting to give one last volley as the Long Patrol made ready for battle. Biggum watched with a critical eye as a stressed Sarl put on what armor he could find, none of it capable of being put on in a decent time due to his heavyweight. Biggum did not worry much for Sarl's safety, as the poor creature was going to be with Salgor and better trained hares. Dagor let go of his mother and spoke in love to both her and his sister who watched him put on his helm and make for the door.

"Pray for our enemies, they will need it more than us." In a mocking tone.
_

The door of the secret entrance in the woods began to slowly open as a small head with wandering eyes peaked out. Doufy looked around, fixing his beret as he held up his crossbow and silently began to keep an eye on the trees. He was covered in sticky foliage and grass, a green and black war paint on his fur. He looked around for scouts and other enemies, and could find none. He returned to the secret hideaway and tapped his feet quickly on the hidden door, and he stepped to the side.

Over a hundred hares began to quickly file out with bows and javelins, and made a formation in the open area of the forest. Arising slowly with his paws behind his back was Barfoof Vosh Veegnuff who had handpicked all of his chosen soldiers and with his associate Cemar joining him. Cemar was dressed similarly as Doufy, the only difference was the color of their Beret.

"Good luck!" A small and whispered voice came from below, beyond the darkness of the hidden entrance. Doufy looked, seeing Dacks having come to see them off. Doufy gave him a friendly thumbs up and the squirrel closed the door behind them as Barfoof stood stoically looking around at his hares. He gave a command in a low tone.

"Follow closely. Once we begin our attack first, and we draw the main bulk of our enemy's ire as Dagor and Biggum lead the main charge. Once Salgor and his group destroy the tunnels, our mountain will be safe once again. We do this cautiously. We cannot afford losses. No melees, only skirmishing. We lead them further into the forest. I want three groups, Constant fire at ALL times. Doufy, our caches are still secure?"

"Last I checked a few months ago, if any vermin stragglers found them, they likely can't use them, sir."

"Cemar, you lead the front grou. Doufy, you lead the back group. I shall lead the middle group. Give them blood and vinegar, lads."

There was only a nod, no war cry as the hares quickly rushed into the forest as they separated into those three groups, all well armed. They began to make their way to the side of the southern mountain, as they went, whatever scout and stragglers of vermin could be found were dragged into the underbrush and their throats slit. Barfoof did a walk of death, each time he stepped, the hares drew closer to the siege at the gates. He didn't particularly like this plan, but it was better than Galgor's own. Cemar led his forces onward, stepping over the body of some fox scout who had been lazily napping not too long ago. He stopped, spotting Cemar's group up ahead at the edge of the forest before it met the beach.

Cemar looked out, hatefully at the procession of vermin who were beneath the mountain, huddled beneath their tarps and shields and looking up warily at the terraces above them. Unable to reach them, the hares above had stopped their assault only due to low ammunition. Cemar spotted the Greeneyed Horde's many slave soldiers wandering about in their green cloaks and rubbing their branded cheeks. He felt no sympathy for them, for how could he, the invader and barbarian was at his doorstep

Cemar looked back at Barfoof who gave only a small nod to him. He turned back around and aimed his crossbow at a cat overseer underneath a yurt.

The first volley came, and the screams of vermin were heard, first of surprise.

A second volley follow, within seconds of the first, as more screams filled the air, and what was once surprise became anger.

A third volley, more vermin were sent to the hell they called an afterlife, and their screams were that of fear.

"Long patrol! We're bein attacked!"

"To arms!"

"Fer der Greeneyed H–" One vermin tried to yell, but was silenced as a bolt hit his mouth. The vermin turned to where their attackers came from, utterly shocked as arrows, bolts, and javelins hurled their way to them. They stopped only briefly as vermin charged blindly towards them, thinking to find an easier fight once inside the forest itself. Yet they found nothing, except the hares were somehow further away. More volleys, more dead vermin, and the vermin retreated briefly only to be hit more. Panic began to grow amongst them, some tried to retreat, and one overly stressed ferret tried to swim into the sea only to crash back on shore with the waves.

Minto did not take long to figure out what was going on, coming out of the tent to witness the carnage personally. Nattar and Mulkan stood side by side as they also watched the attack unfold, much more amused than worried. Mulkan peered at the trees and drew his hatchet and called out in a strange language to his nearby captains who began to move. The gray host of northern vermin went into the forestline, with Mulkan and his elite guard following them. Minto took a look at Nattar and yelled out orders at him.

"Kill them, you buffoon!" Minto was quick himself, taking up his trident to find allies, captains, and soldiers to rally. Nattar, the great Taggerung of the Juska, at first did nothing. He was tempted to just not pursue, but decided against disobeying the cat. Taking up his dual axes he followed, gathering Juska warriors from his camp, and followed Mulkan's vermin into the woods.

Nattar passed by trees, gliding through the woods on his way, as he heard the screams of battle. He stomped over dead vermin as he did so, javilens sticking out of chests or arrows pelted onto poor beasts. His horde of beasts who followed were haphazard and confused, eager as they were, the screams got closer until he could see Mulkan and his vermin huddled behind trees with their own bowbeasts trying to take aim and fire at the bushes and trees.

Nattar took came up to the trees farther back from the northern vermin, a skirmish in the woodlands as Mulkan looked annoyed as he tried to shift around the trees, somewhat afraid if he looked around he would be sniped by some well trained shot.

"Blasketed Harkes!" Mulkan screamed. He motioned with his paws to someone farther off as Nattar saw come into view a barely legible white ermine in damaged cloak, her bow in paw. "Zulkma! Killk yem!"

Wordlessly, the ermine dodged to the side from an arrow trained on her and ran into bushes, firing an arrow swiftly into the trees. Nattar was impressed when he heard a horrified scream and a thud, as some Long Patrol sniper who he could barely make out in the trees farther off fell, but not to his death. His comrades were quick to drag him off as the Hares sounded a further retreat. Nattar came forward, a smirk across his face as he smugly yelled over the battle.

"Afraid of a few arrows, northerner?"

Mulkan looked to him and then to the trees and peered into them. He came closer to Nattar, who was taken by surprise when Mulkan pushed him harshly to the ground, just as a javelin silently screamed out and came down upon where Nattar had been standing, the one who had thrown it rushed between the tops of trees, and quickly retreated. The hare was unfortunate however, as Zulma fired an arrow into his back, he stumbled, and fell and laid still. Nattar looked horrified as Mulkan kept his eyes trained on the battlefield. A loud roar came from the vermin side of the forest, followed by loud clumps iron against dirt and yells of horror.

Barfoof watched as from the trees, huge and monstrous wolverines emerged, led by one larger one in a studded metal collar, their armor thick but also slow. The vermin had not made this armor for mobility, it was poor and haphazard as many forms of vermin armor was, but it was no less terrifying to witness. They came with cleavers, axes, and huge polearms as they crashed through trees as they bore Mulkan's white banner. Barfoof had known they would be fielded, at least a few who could make it, yet he had a plan to deal with them.

"Retreat." Barfoof ordered. This sound was echoed across the army as the Long Patrol began to move backwards, firing arrows and bolts into the vermin crowd which grew larger with a variety of vermin. Mulkan and Nattar did not come forward, watching the wolverines led by their captain go forward further into the woods.

One wolverine stepped a bit too much forward, and yet another volley of arrows, javelins, and bolts rained down on them. The armor shrugged some of it off with ease, but one bolt in particular was aimed at a vulnerable spot in the eyes of the helm. It was a perfect shot as one wolverine grasped his head and tumbled to the side, and finally laid still upon the ground.

"Give'em Blood an' Vinegar!" Doufy cried out

The Long Patrol were no longer in retreat, and began to attack forward, the smaller force was soon becoming a much bigger one as the unorganized mass of vermin began to fall piece by piece. Mulkan was nearly paralyzed with amazement. The Long Patrol charged and with full heart began to take apart the unorganized hordes piece by piece. Mulkan saw arrows flying, ducking down as the hares attempted to take on the wolverines in front while Northern vermin and Juska attempted to counter skirmish with shields, bows, and slings. The Long Patrol fought viciously, but their numbers crept closer as the trickle of vermin who came to the battlefield in time were cut down quicker than they could be replaced.

Nattar charged forward with the Juska, who all charged as one through the foilage of the forest, but yet they tripped over themselves and the bodies of the fallen, with Nattar having to stop and take cover behind the body of the fallen wolverine. Both vermin warlords were miserable, unaware that from a distance, Barfoof watched with cold eyes, as he expected the vermin to reach a line and pull forward, only to have not even gotten the strength to reach that far ahead. Mulkan finally blurted out.

"Retreyak!" before rushing off from the battlefield, his captains followed. Nattar silently followed, having hoped his Juska would stay to cover his retreat which soon became a full rout. There was a cheer of victory amongst the hares, having bought time for their king to strike the vermin. Barfoof smiled, for things were looking much brighter with the grounds filled with vermin blood.
_

The vermin had barely the time to recover from the brutal assault, watching as many members from the other camp rushed into the forest. One rat gripped his side, having been only scratched by a javelin as he looked around at demoralized and dead vermin. Minto and his horde had rallied farther off, and things were settling down. He gave a loud sigh of relief, he survived another day.

Up until he heard the gates of Salamandastron begin to open.

"Eulalia!" Dagor cried out, leading the host of Long Patrol in his wake. Whatever vermin were around to combat this charge from out of the mountain found themselves fired upon from above by arrows in a mass volley. Dagor waited for the volley to land as vermin tried to get into battle formation, but most just suddenly began to flee. The hope these routed warriors would flee beyond the field to their own safety to never bother good beasts ever again was dashed as they fled into the arms of Minto's army marching to them. Minto looked on, a dark sickness in his eyes as he stared with the desire to murder Dagor where he stood. Minto cried out with a proud yelp.

"For the Greeneyed Horde!" The vermin began to charge, and with them cats following close behind them and others readying bows for their own volley. Dagot charged out, battleaxe in paw as he was joined by Biggum and the rest of the hares, who charged into the fray. Arrows flew, but the hares were fast and dispersed wide once they were on the beach, and soon after they were closer to their enemies than they even realized. The Long Patrol archers in the army began to scurry down from the mountain to join their brothers below, but Dagor rushed beyond his hares, and crushed his way into the fray of the green mass.

It wasn't a battle.

It was butchery.

Vermin had this strange view of badgers as big and dumb lugs, that they can take them on since they aren't as fast or as sneaky as they are, up until they fight on one head on. Or even see one. Dagor swung his axe, and each swing vermin died in droves. Minto had to stop to keep his distance from Dagor as he swirled his axe around and slew their numbers left and right. One cat tried to climb his way to him, spear in paw, muttering prayers in an unknown language only for Minto to see the poor beast's two halves flung farther off. The hares joined shortly there after, causing yet another massacre upon the beach. Galgor was a monster to fight, but Minto figured he could take on Dagor and let his army win in the background. The cat jumped and began to duel the badger lord, his trident clung against the badger's battleaxe which Minto tried to disarm him more than once, but was unable to do. In fact, Minto found himself disarmed, his trident flung to the ground as Dagor reached out with a paw to crush him only to retract it when a spear slapped against his armor.

Some hares kept to the reserve, others fired arrows at oncoming cats who tried to get into a position to rain down arrows of their own. A game of cat and mouse began to occur with the cats and hares, each of their archers trying to keep the other from determining the results of the melee. Despite all this, the battle was far from close. Dagor only had to give time to his soldiers to destroy those tunnels, and hope his brother didn't mess it up. It all depends on that stone beast.

Then he heard it. He looked up from the melee and saw it in the distance.

A shining light upon the field, coming down the dunes.

As the rest of Minto's army, vastly larger than anything began to form up, a great light, a yellow and black banner shined from the east.

Dagor's heart fluttered in joy, he would not need to even worry about the tunnels, for he would win the battle itself. He knew the banner, recognized its bell sigils and symbols.

Southward! "Southward! Biggum! Look!"

Biggum was busy fighting as he looked up with joy in his own heart, seeing the woodlander army, as large as any, descend from the dunes and begin to crash into the vermin. In the chaos of the fighting, little could be known. The warcry "For the Bellmaker!" and "For Mossflower!" could be heard. Minto himself looked, despairing as he disengaged from fighting the badger lord to escape into his mass of troops, to rally them against this new force. The yellow army crashed downward into three areas; the camp, the battle itself near the mountain, and another which began immediate construction of a camp just above it all as a reserve force.

He began to fight his way through the vermin, now trapped on both sides while others retreated to their camp to regroup. Biggum joined him, fighting his way beyond the forces as Dagor with desperate need wanted to link up to his saviors. Dagor could not believe his luck, he wanted to hug the Squirrelking personally. As he fought his way to them, he could see his fellow Long Patrol taking his lead and trying to link up with them as well.

Dagor could see the faces of his saviors just beyond the mass of vermin scattering, and as he approached, so did some of his honor guard. He saw a hedgehog amongst the crowd, a whip to his belt, and a big sneer on his face. It looked strangely unfriendly for a friend. The hedgehog gave one look at the hares coming to greet him, and waved his paw downward.

Dagor and Biggum stopped, the hares coming to greet their savior were gored by pikes of the Southward soldiers who coldly withdrew them and slew them with stabs from a distance.

Dagor and Biggum's mouths were agape in horror, unsure of what to make of it. Was it some manner of accident? It couldn't have been a betrayal, surely. Yet, something at the back of Dagor's head began to eat at him, hard and long. Run! It commanded. Dagor turned, and felt his back to be pelted with bolts. One bolt after the other began to hit the badger lord, one by one as it found its place beyond his fine armor into his legs, his arms, and his back. Biggum was frozen, as Dagor covered him and yelled loudly "Biggum! Call the Retreat!" Biggum was still horrified, unable to even speak as Dagor grabbed him and pulled him towards the mountain as confused Long Patrol hares realized what was going on and began to attack the oncoming troops of the Southward. Biggum called for retreat, no longer being shielded like a turtle by his lord, he was trying to help him limp back into the mountain.

The precision of the bolts were brutal and purposeful, seeing the larger badger in armor, the Southward forces continued to pelt him with more and more bolts as they chased the Long Patrol back into the mountain. Biggum stayed, commanding his hares in orderly fashion as Dagor began to limp inside, dazed and weak. The hares put up much more of a fight than the Southward forces expected, but yet killed a good deal of their number, and only retreated when arrows began to rain down on them from the terraces above. The gates closed as Biggum rushed to his lord. Nazla and Narsa were nearly screaming, both held back by hares as they saw what was left of Dagor.

Dagor looked at the horrified eyes of his mother, breathing slowly, his entire back looked like a hedgehog and he couldn't move his arms let alone his legs. His battleaxe, which had glided to the ground as he dragged Biggum back inside, was behind him, having fallen. His helm was stapled to his head by a single bolt which pierced through it and into his cheek. He looked onward, past his mother, seeing his father in the shadows awaiting him.

His eyes rolled into his head and fell forward, and blackness took him.
_

Dagor had only moments to rush out as Salgor and Gambit rushed out after him with five hares to their back, six if one counted the slow Sarl Bigtail who was not far behind. Salgor was confused at first, nearly joining his brother in the fray up ahead as Gambit slapped his back with one of his javelins. Salgor looked towards the sea near the old entrance to the storage areas, where some vermin were rushing into the avoid the slaughter. Salgor rushed to it, Gambit and his retinue behind him as he saw one rat limping towards the sea, simply yelling

"Greeneyes can have der grave, ya ain't taken me!" Salgor looked on with some amazement as the poor rat began to swim against the waves rather than fight them. He was again snapped out of it by Gambit who gave a stern warning and some advice.

"Ignore them, most don't like bein here either, don't mean they aren't less of an enemy." Salgor agreed silently and rushed inside. He went in first, the hole was tight and cramped and he could feel warm air. The damage to the tunnels were immense, most had to be widened and dug out as the hares followed after him. The tunnels had guards, two who were trying to get further into the tunnels and snuff out the lights of torches and candles. Gambit threw a javelin at one, impaling the paw of some ferret who yelped in pain. Salgor went over and crushed him, not even needing his weapon as it felt cumbersome to use in such a small space. He dreaded being in such a place ever since he and Dagor rushed out from a collapsing cave.

He wondered.

What if Malgor is down here?

A thought of dread crossed his mind, fighting and killing his brother, an unforgivable sin to badgers, but so was forgiving a traitor. He cringed at the thought and continued onward, he and Gambit slowing down as they bounded around a corner. Once inside the tunnels, they found it spacious, and dirty. Gambit looked and saw five vermin at the farther end of a tunnel, with most of the miners in chains kept under guard by one fiercer and older guard, a whip to his belt and missing an eye. The only reason that kept the group from killing the overseers outright was that the top overseer, a cat with reddish symbols all over his face and a turban helm kept a knife on the throat of the youngest member of the chain gang.

"Nyot one styep closer." He ordered, and the group obeyed. Gambit looked at him with anger, as the cat quickly began to mock them.

"Foryest fyolk, you wyould do wyell an sayve us all thye trouble by jyust surrendering nyow."

"Let them go and leave." Salgor said coldly.

"No. You syurrender."

Gambit mocked back, holding up a javelin to him "Coward an' a slaver both."

"Barbyrian an' heathan both."

Salgor looked at him, and at the poor beast whose throat was kept with a knife close to it. He heard of western cats, raiders and tyrants for the far west. Little was known of them or their practices, only that they sometimes went east. Many times, the great tyrants of cats came here to escape them, as those tyrants would claim. The cat was no feral cat, he looked like a house cat, but from behind his armor and features on his face it was hard to be certain. Salgor came forward as the cat held his knife closer to the younger sea otter's throat.

"I aym a seyrvant of my eymperor, I have kiylled younger beyfore, do not teympt mey false suyltan."

"I am not the lord of this place."

"Doey'st matter?"

"Yes, for you. Under badger law, I am bound to doll out punishments of my people's ancient customs. If you kill that poor creature, I will kill you. It will not be quick, nor painless."

"If you coyme closer, I wyill kill him."

"I am bound by my king to remove you from these tunnels. It does not matter what you do."

Gambit and the hares began to look at Salgor in a weird way, and so did the chained sea otters who gave a worried but silent expression. "You bluff."

"I do not."

"Salgor?" Gambit whispered "Ya ain't gonna do it, right?" Salgor didn't answer, his face was stone cold and looked on without a hint of fear. The cat's paw began to slowly giggle as he felt his leverage slip away. Salgor continued "If you go, my mission is complete. Take your minions with you. If you do not, it is my right to disembowel you. Alive." Gambit blinked, and so did the hares. Sarl cringed, who had arrived behind them but said nothing. The cat looked Salgor straight in the eyes, realizing that even if it was a bluff, Salgor would not back down. He didn't want to see what the badger would do to him so he slowly released the slave from the grip of his knife and held up his paws. Salgor watched as the cat growled at his minions "Leayve the slayves, Minyto does not nyeed to know."

The cat and his minions awkwardly passed by Salgor and the others as they walked down the entrance. Gambit looked at his friend and whispered "Nice bluff."

Salgor worryingly said nothing as Sarl spoke up next "I don't think disembowelment alive is a part of our execution practices, sir."

"It isn't. Though being pummeled to death is." Salgor then smiled as if relieved once the vermin were farther away. Gambit didn't seem relieved turning to the prisoners and rushing to them. He began to reassure them as Sarl and the other hares took positions within. They needed to rescue the miners, but concerningly they had done a lot of work, poor work. Salgor took note "Took your time with them?" He asked one slave.

"Aye, they aren't particularly good miners, we could have dug a tunnel loops all the way around, me lord."

"Good le–"

Block the entrance.

Salgor stopped, a thought entered his head. He looked at the entrance. It was like a loud yelp as the sound of battle grew fiercer. The vermin overseer at the end of the tunnel stopped with his minions and looked out. They had worried expressions. Without much thinking he turned to the sea otters. He gave out a command. "Mine. You need to mine up. How far can we reach into the main tunnels?"

There was confused looks on their faces

Block the entrance.

"Gambit, get them free of their chains. We need to mine upward. To get back to the hold. We need to–" Salgor stopped, trying to figure out why he was saying these things. He felt a sudden amount of despair, from somewhere unknown. Shouts came from down the tunnel as one by one beasts began to pour inside. The cat who had held the younger slave captive looked annoyed as he got out of the way of two injured Long Patrol limping down the tunnel with wide eyes of fear. They were relieved to see Salgor. Another hare showed up, fearfully running past the vermin who were baffled. They wondered if they had lost the war, while others theorized they won the battle. Gambit came up to Salgor who growled "Gambit, do as I say!"

"Alright, alright lad." Gambit got to work, his hares began to unlock the chains from the otters and began to dig upward, guessing more correctly where the main tunnel was. Salgor turned to help them, clawing at the dirt and brought huge chunks down and threw them to the side. The group began to work over time as Salgor stopped and climbed down, finding more hares who were sobbing or in a panic, trying to be calmed by others who followed Salgor into the tunnels. Salgor saw more hares, and then even some vermin from the horde began to rush alongside them. One feral cat even pushed his way past, and breathed a sigh of relief in a corner. The former overseer looked from far down the passage with confusion at Salgor who had no idea what was going on. Then as the tunnels began to empty and more piled into the room, another hare which Salgor had never seen before showed up.

It was this rickly all white hare with a black and yellow uniform, with a sword which he slammed down into some vermin. Gambit looked on, amazed, yelling "Hells! Its a Southwarder!" The hare was bloodied as he turned to the cat in surprise, as the cat quickly brought his knife down on his neck and killed him, but shortly thereafter mice, squirrels, and otters too joined in. The cat overseer and his minions began to fight their way down to Salgor, although Gambit raised a javelin to throw at them.

Block the entrance.

Salgor's body did as the voice commanded as he took his claymore and began to bash at the ceiling of the entrance, rocks beginning to tumble. Gambit yelled at him "Hey! We got fri–" A bolt rang out as Salgor cringed in pain, looking at one of his paws which had a bolt sticking out of him. Gambit turned his anger to the Southwarders who were beginning to flood the tunnels. "Hey, watch your fi–"

Before he could speak a mouse aimed down at Salgor which the Badger dodged to the side for cover and it hit the rocks behind them. Gambit was shocked, that was a lot more deliberate. The Greeneye cat rushed behind him, yelling out at his vermin "Go!" Before turning to fight the mass in the hall. The former overseers flung themselves into the tunnels as Salgor commanded those around him "Brace for impact! Help me collapse the tunnel! We need to buy time for the miners!" The Long Patrol, recovering from their losses, and aided by some of the vermin, did so. Salgor watched as the cat overseer fought brilliantly the mass of yellow soldiers, but his bravery was only rewarded with a pike to his chest and flung to the side. Yet it was enough time for Salgor bash some rocks down, causing the soldiers to trip over themselves trying to get into the cavern.

Salgor was confused, why were these soldiers trying to kill him? Why were they attacking? He yelled at them, but none answered, likely drawn into the bloodlust of battle. A melee ensued as pikes reached forward, skewering some poor soldiers in the front. Gambit came about, grabbing one pike and pulling out one soldier's paws and giving it to the Long Patrol who used it to push the wayward rogues back. The vermin began to take the place of exhausted former slaves, and dug and mined in desperation.

"I see light!" One sea otter exclaimed. There was a rush as a paw drew out from a hole in the rock to the sea otter, a hare paw, as Salgor yelled out "Tell them to mine to us! Quickly! We need to collapse the tunnels!" The digging intensified as a small hole was breached and a mass began to form at it. One by one, hares, sea otters, and vermin alike were pulled into Salamandastron as more mining was done. Gambit called out "I'm going to have them mine above you Salgor! We'll collapse the entire bleeding roof on them!" Salgor gave his approval with a grunt as he continued to hold out with what few remained. The badger looked behind him, seeing all had left, and mining could be heard above him. Salgor called for his retreat as some Southwarders slowly made their way through the rubble. They last thing they saw was Salgor being the last to leave that cave, jumping his way to freedom as the roof above it collapsed, burying the tunneling project entirely in rubble.

Salgor was on the ground, he rested upon the ground seeing Gambit standing over him. Salgor was smiling, he had not felt like this in a long time, but seeing Biggum looking down at him with a sad expression made him speak up.

"Biggum. Horrible news, Southward–"

"We know. My lord."

My? Lord? Salgor only blinked and arose. There was weeping and crying in the halls, far from the sounds of victory. He saw hares, covering a large figure with a white cloak. The entire world stood as Salgor approached. He laid down, Narsa and Nazla having already wept. Gambit stood close to his friend as Salgor lifted up the veil to see Dagor's eyes closed, and still, the bolts still sticking out of him and blood having pooled where he was. Medics were dispatched to clean what was the former lord up. Salgor looked down at Dagor with despair, tears welling in his eyes.

No. No! He didn't know what to say, or what to do. With a horrified yelp, he cried out, as the Badger King Dagor Ironpaw passed from the world not too long ago.


Minto was in shock himself, not at the arrival of Southward, that he had nothing to blame on. It was that as he turned to see a part of his army get destroyed and routed, the badger king began to be pelted with bolts. They are attacking each other? Minto felt more annoyed than surprised at the realization. He realized that his dream of slaying a badger king was once again dashed by yet another woodlander. He hoped this badger lord survived, but even if he did, he would likely be fighting a cripple! What horrific luck. Yet, the thought escaped Minto for now, as he turned to his army, routing back to their camp or towards ships, to rally to him.

One unlucky ferret rushed too close to Minto as he grabbed him by his neck and pulled him close. He yelled over the crowd "You retreat, you perish, you miserable thralls! All of you! To me!" Minto screamed. Minto looked for Kain, hoping to find him somewhere, but likely he was at the other end of the camp. Minto nearly threw the ferret into a crowd as vermin rallied to him. The cats, once held in reserve, began to muster fully into their formations and unleashed volleys upon the approaching Southwarders, but it only crashed harmlessly upon shields. This one otter in black armor came up, holding out a sword and leading a charge into his camp, yelling loudly "For Southward!"

Minto held onto what he could, but the chaos of the battle and camp was horrific. Even with considerable size, getting everyone read was a mess. Minto once again found himself leading a charge out of the camp to fight Southward, followed by a line of western cats who fired a volley into the ranks of their pikes, and for said pikes to quickly find their targets into the undefended chests of pirates and rabble. The battle was close, as the vermin found themselves pushed back towards their camp, with Minto forced to disengage to get to the behind of his army after suffering a nasty scratch to his shoulder. The army of Southwarders which had finished driving the hares back into their mountain turned around and began to join in, and Minto could only watch as they would likely just invade his camp and rout his army before they could fully arm themselves.

Yet from out of the forest line, war horns were sounded. A vast tide of Juska and Northern vermin who had followed their warlords into the woods to fight hares came out of it, injured but no less prepared. Joining them were others, Minto could recognize their colors and strangeness, a Stoat who was the first mate to Sagan Black and Barbo's lizards. The Northern vermin and Juska in Minto's camp began to find their bravery and joined into Minto's line upon seeing their warlords return, with Nattar and Mulkan charging forward to the relief army of Southward who turned to find themselves in a horrifying situation of trapped between a gray blob of wolverines and the sea.

Captain Gythan looked on more with annoyance than horror at Esmert having trapped himself in such a way, as the richly dressed noble who was wide eyed waved his whip at his soldiers who took positions as their pikes did little but just make the wolverines angry. On the open beaches, the armored creatures were mortifying to deal with, especially when they got close. One poor otter was grabbed by one, and his fate is best not written or described. Gythan turned his army to deal with the intruding reinforcements as Minto pressed his advantage.

Nattar and Mulkan slew soldiers one by one together, working in unison as they fought towards Minto. They had no interest in destroying the Southwarders, as much as fighting their way towards the rest of their hordes. Minto commanded them "Crush them! Both of them!" He shouted, pointing to Gythan and Esmert's soldiers. Gythan made orders of his own, splitting off one force to save Esmert while his own held off against the full tide of the Greeneyed Horde. It wasn't long till pirates from Gashan's horde began to join in, this terrible and diverse force led by their fearsome commanders focused on Gythan and his soldiers, and yet despite all their trying, they could not break him.

"Hold your ground! Crossbowbeasts, bring down those monsters! You, pull back in slow pace!" Gythan stood like a boulder, and his army did too as the otter shouted orders to his smaller force. Minto continued to press his army on, even as this tidal wave of vermin continued to crash onto the 2nd army's weakest link. Gythan, once seeing Esmert freed and his army retreating back to Nosbub, he began to slowly retreat. The fighting became intense, but out of obligation more reinforcements came. Little by little, and eventually by a lot, the entire 2nd Army came to reinforce Gythan. Pikes were shattered, quivers emptied of arrows, and the entire battlefield was strewn with sand and blood. Minto could see it was pointless, even as his army tried to envelope them, his enemy was too organized and prepared. He sent wolverines to deal with his frontal force, only to be driven off by a mass of bolts. Flanking maneuvers by the Juska were quickly countered by reserve soldiers. Frustrated, Minto did not pursue as the main army retreated to a wagon fort set up on a hill overlooking them.

Minto limped to the front of his army, once again bruised and tired as they were banished back to square one. More of the army would arrive, he could always force more vermin into his army, but the setback made his eyes twitch with fury. He began to think of all the terrible things he would do to them, and the otter, who defied him.

He looked around, bypassing his allies and captains, ignoring their pleas as he rushed up to Brea, who was sitting on a box, patching up an injured leg.

"My brother. Where is he."

"I dun' know."

Minto held out his trident to her chest, and the pirates surrounding her drew weapons. "You do, where is he."

"In der forest, last I saw. I dinks. Kill me, an yer gonna be looken real silly. Me love, his friends, an' what not are der. We barely were able to get away from dis lot. Yer lucky we came across der gray v–" Minto left, angering the Stoatess as he walked back to the front of his army and looked, hoping to see a severed head of his brother amongst the enemy camp. Seeing none, he was unsure whether to be relieved or mad. Covered in blood, exhausted, and partly bleeding, he just stood there in silence, a fury building up in his stomach.
_

Kain sat in the office chair of Minto's war tent, his feet on the desk. He heard some commotion outside, then a battle, but he had hidden in his own tent during such discourse and not left it. He was more than sure they would win, but he wanted no part in it. He was not alone, the sea otter servant girl was with him, the one Minto seemed to be fond of considering all the mercies afforded to her as a messenger. She looked worried, having kept a watch at the front of the tent as she kept an eye for some wandering soldier. Kain huffed.

"Why don't you be useful and fetch me something to drink, sea dog. Warriors like myself find this whole war business quite dry."

She liked the excuse, and was about to leave, but something large, horrifying, and bloody came to the entrance and entered. Kain's eyes widened and he nearly fell off as a tired looking Minto, covered from head to toe in blood from the battle walked in. The sea otter servant yelped "M-me lord. Yo-you want me to get a medic? Or healing kits? Linen!?"

Minto stared at her dumbly at first and grunted "Linen and twine. Be quick. Then summon my captains to me after you grab it."

"Oh, I should get you a healer for you my brother-in-la–"

"No you won't." Minto spoke with a clear spite

"No I will not." Kain replied and stood, trying to weasel his way out of talking with him. Yet, Minto ordered him to "Kain, stay." He looked around, seeing the otter servant having disappeared. He liked that, a beast who could obey his command without question or incompetence. Minto sat down in his chain looking at a wound on his paw and then looking at a worried Kain who had not a scratch on him. "Kain, you do know there was a battle, right?"

"Oh yes, I was getting my armor, but it all ends so fast I barely could do much, so I excused myself here to prepare for your next orders, an–"

"Kain, be silent."

"Being silent.

Minto frowned, he could not truly believe this creature before him, this incompetent charlatan. It was obvious to everyone except his father, who liked Kain because he was 'loyal' and a sweet talker. Yet, for all the things he remembered Kain for, being a coward was perhaps his best quality. Best as in, his other qualities were hundreds of times worse. Minto grunted and spoke up, shaking his head "Kain, my brother may or may not be dead. I am told we suffered significant casualties, we have an enemy army on top of a hill, I lost a significant prisoner whom I will have to write to my mother about my failure to bring them back to Sandbeach, and furthermore-" Minto sighed and paused, painfully pinching between his eyes with a headache from just thinking it "I am told we lost our tunnels, completely caved in."

"Oh, that sounds bad."

"Yes, because it-" Minto reacted suddenly, throwing an ornament from the table at him which Kain blocked with his arm "It is bad, you insufferable moron! We are losing the war, and no beast here seems to fully understand that! My father most of all. He sent you to lead this army in my stead till I got here, and you are here skulking around while my vermin die for this wretched cause instead of taking Green Isle!"

Kain childishly lifted a paw finger, trying to calm Minto "Yes, but you got to admit Mossflower is the stronger prize, for us."

Minto got up and rushed over to Kain and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt looking him dead in the eyes and nearly foaming at the mouth with hate "Us? There is no 'us', Kain. There is ONLY my family, and me." Kain held back a smirk when he simply replied "Exactly, us. I am your brother in law."

There were footsteps heard outside the tent, as the sea otter servant returned with the linen and twine, but as she walked in, she gave Minto an unsure look, looking behind her as the foxess Kamala walked in with her, her hood covering her up. Minto grunted at her, as he took the linen and twine from his servant as she went off to collect the captains next.

"My lord, you are injured."

"If you delay my servant, I'll accuse you of treason."

"Always difficult for me, you are more like your father than you admit." Kamala made herself comfortable as Minto let go of Kain. Kain tried to sneak off, but Minto hissed at him "No, you stay here, I am not done with you."

"Yes, because while you are here, we have much to discuss."

Kain blinked as Minto looked at Kamala curiously. She produced an apple from within her clothes, eating it and smiling at Kain. "Your brother I hear is dead."

"No, according to the pirates, so he may or may not be. What is worse, they took the Wildlough prince with them!"

"Stupid and foolish of you."

"Shut it, fox. You have no right to speak to me."

"Yea, especially to cats." Kain tried to say in a minion's tone, but a glare from Minto got him to be silent.

"Do not fret too much, Tarlo is a smart lad, he and his friends are all above average intelligence, for this camp at least. Although, I did talk to those pirate. I am told Captain Al'zanyan perished along with most of his cats. A shame."

"Can't say I will shed tears for that old fool." Minto grunted "Always disliked him and his western cats. Always questioning me, unrightly so."

"Oh there was a reason for that." Kamala looked at Kain, her eyes never left him, as Kain felt a sudden shiver of fear as he heard of his co-hort's demise. Kamala smiled as she looked at Minto "You would perhaps love to know that Al'zanyan was a sultanate spy, one which sought your demise. In fact, they tried to be rid of you not too long ago."

Minto was not even surprised, but despite disliking the foxess spymaster before him, he sighed in agreement. By sake of his father, he had to trust her, even if he had many questions. "How did you come to know this?"

"A walk on the beach, funnily enough. I got eyes and ears everywhere, Minto. Even here."

Kain made the realization as she looked to Kain next. Minto followed her eyes to him as Kain gave a desperate and innocent smile. His paw was reaching to his sword at his belt, but Minto noticed and sniffed "Kain, do you really think you would even be able to pull that out before I disemboweled you?"

Kain stopped reaching as Kamala sealed his fate "That walk on the beach was with our dear Kain here. A spy, agent, or just stupid pawn of the Sultan, our ever friendly allies. They wanted you and our dear queen out of the picture, and Tarlo spirited away to a land of joy that is the West. They just forgot one crucial issue in their plan."

"That is?"

"They think we are winning this war."

Minto's mood soured hearing the mockery as he turned to Kain. He quickly began to deny it "Minto, come now, this is absurd!"

"No, Kain, no it isn't. I suspected this for a while now, ever since you made yourself so well know to us. Tarlo may ignore it, my father is blind to it, and my dear sister. Well. She suspected as well. I am just very glad you never got share her bed."

"Minto, by the law and by God, we are brothers!"

"By western law and by your God, yes. By Sandbeach's authority and my belief in the superior power of my blood over your God, absolutely not. There are slaves in this camp, pathetic, broken, miserable wretches whom I have stronger connections with than you." The bloody Minto began to come closer to Kain who backed away in fear of him.

"Tomorrow, Kain, you and any other traitors of this camp are going to charge this new foe we have on the hill. I am a merciful creature, I believe in redemption, and you can redeem yourself in my eyes by slaying them like the warrior you always claimed to be. When you told father how you climbed the walls of a great fortress without rope or ladders, I wanted to believe it, now I get to see it first hand all your amazing feats."

"B-but, Minto, I–"

"Kain. Be silent. You are going to do this, and you got a night to prepare, but no fears my brother-in-law, you won't be going anywhere and will have all the time to prepare." Minto began to smile

Kain's look of despair turned to a righteous need to speak out "Minto, as your brother-in-law and champion of your father, you must excuse me from this mission! It is suicide, and you know it! You'll get me killed! I am no traitor, I–" Minto grabbed Kain's shoulder and held him close, the hate in Minto's eyes became a flame of righteous cruelty as the cat reveled in Kain's suffering

"Kain, if you deny me this, you will be a traitor. If this is your choice, I will have you strung to a poll and you will be fed to crabs and gulls, and I will get to hear you scream and weep every single night till your perish. If you die fighting, I get to bury you with some honors, and I can wash my paws clean of your filth for good. For my sister, and my father, if you die fighting in battle it will look good for me and you. If you don't, it's no fur from back, because you know how much I would enjoy seeing you squirm. You'd be meeting the red God in the slowest and most painful way I can imagine." Kain gulped and accepted his fate, as he looked away in defeat from Minto.
_

Gashan and Mulkan stood next to one another on the beach, the horde surrounding five cats, one including Kain. Kain was in his old battlegear, they were all well armored and prepared looking, but the five beasts were looking at a group of five fellow cats with bows to their side. They could not run from this, if they did, they would be pelted with arrows regardless. Minto stood at the front of his army, dressed clean and stitched up. Gashan's fellow pirates were off to the side, everyone had come to witness this execution.

Even though Minto didn't phrase it as that, this was certainly an execution. Kain looked broken, as he stood at attention to Minto who approached him.

"Today is the day, Kain. Do you have any last words?" Minto kept a dark smile. Kain was too weak of a creature to speak in a way which would defy him. Yet, looking next to Kain was Kamala who looked pleased with herself. He looked to Minto and spoke loudly "For my lady and love, tell her I died bravely."

Minto was pleased with this, but Kain crept closer and spoke again in a short whisper "My brother, if her time comes next, do not make it quick." He motioned his head to Kamala. Minto turned to her, knowing full well that despite Kain's attempt to hide his spite, she overheard it. She looked even prouder at this as Minto turned and whispered more subtly.

"I promise nothing, but deny nothing." Kain frowned, but accepted it as he donned his helm. He was dressed like a royal western cat, ready for war, as Gashan and Mulakn looked on. Gashan looked over Mulkan who was also stitched up from previous fights, his personal slave next to him, looking on and awaiting the cannibal king's orders. Mulkan sniffed the air as Kain and the four others with him, accused of treachery, began to jolt beyond the beach towards the Southward camp above them.

Gashan looked to the camp, it was larger now, fluttering yellow and black flags with a series of trenches and defenses being prepared by what he could only describe as slaves. The soldiers in the camp could spot Kain and the others approaching, drawing their weapons as they approached. Gashan spoke up.

"Ya northerners, what do ya dink of dings like dis?"

The gray fox turned to the Weasel and shrugged "I doyn't diynk much onk it ayll, souktheyrner. I have seen straynger wakys to huymiliate and kill beaksts."

"Ya know. When I agreed to work fer dis horde, I said to meself. 'Gashan, if dings get foolish an' weird, ya gotta split from dis'. Now, Milo and his pa, dey were kind and good to me, helped to get where I was. I went from a slave on a pirate to ship to lord of the entire damn sea cause of dem. Tarlo seems nice too, but now I hear he may be gone. What do ya do wit dis fool in charge?"

The two watched as Kain drew ever closer, his jolt slowed as soldiers from the camp came to the front, followed by their chief commander, some black hare with a nasty twitch. Mulkan watched on and gave a friendly huff.

"Ya kiyll themk, weaysel. I was muych like youk once. My triybe were weak wandkerers in thek snoyw, starving and unakble to find gooyd foodk, yet refuysed to eatk the deayd. Wolveriynes slaughterked them, and ate thekm, keypt me as foodk before I prokved myself nokt as their equayl but as their superiork. I had a loyt to prokve, and noyw the Whikte City is miyne. I hoype to returnk with enouygh slaves and lootk to make any beayst questyioning me thiynk twicek, make my namye immortal as the greaktest king of Ice anyd Snowk."

"Ya, but killen dat one is more trouble den it is worth."

"Anyk beayst can bek killed."

"That ain't the trouble, its more like, once Minto is dead, dis horse an me alliance with Sandbeach is done. As a pirate, it won't matter much, but it does feel like I am missing out on a lot by not following through with it. I fear the day either of them gives me an order, like dis, and I have to obey it."

"Deyn don't."

"Ya make it sound easy."

"Cauyse it isk." Mulkan smiled "Surprisingykly so. You muyst understkand, weakness is abhoyrredk where I bey from, piratke. A weyak warriork is different from a weak ruyler."

Kain was beyond halfway there, letting out a battle cry in the far western tongue as his fellow traitors followed suit. They didn't get much farther until a hail of bolt fired down at them. One tried to run, another tried to dodge, but all were hit. All five bellied over, in pain or already dead. Kain was alive, a bolt sticking out of his side as he doubled over in pain clutching it. Nosbub walked out, wandering the tiny massacre as he looked at Kain in particular. The others from the camp watched on as Nosbub exchanged looks between Kain and the Greeneye camp, not understanding this little charade.

"How about dis, Mulkan. We are brothers in a way. If de's landlubber cats ever ask us to do something like dis, we desert together, both of our hordes, we ransack dis whole country and go elsewhere."

Mulkan looked at Gashan and smiled and nodded.

They watched in different ways to what happened next. To Gashan, he saw Kain at his weakest, as Nosbub came up to him. He was mumbling something loudly to the Black Twitch, but it was silent as Nosbub took out his rapier and inserted it slowly into his heart, ending his life. Kain's head fell onto the sands and Nosbub cleaned his weapon with disgust to his face, his paw twitching as he did so. Gashan gulped. If Milo ever was displeased, or if he showed weakness, he would be where Kain was.

Mulkan though saw something Gashan didn't see. He simply smiled, and walked back to his vermin, and said nothing. All he seemed to think was about Gashan's little offer, and a stir of ambitious thoughts wrung through his mind.