Redwall: War of the Four Banners

by PepperDeadSworn

"Young as autumn, old as summer, from sea to forest the cries of war shall come Four armies, one outcome, in ruin you shall find the truth Look to the place of my rest, for friend shall be foe, and foe shall be friend." A epic tale of Redwall in which four great factions battle for the fate of Mossflower itself.

34. Fools, Ambitions, and Traitors

Chapter 33: Fools, Ambitions, and Traitors

Facing down in the sand of Salamandastron, an unlucky hare felt a sharp pain prodding at his back. He was mentally cursing for what felt like an eternity, his eyes shifted a growing pile of fallen comrades which had been piled up. The sharp pain to his back would return, but it was a weak jab.

Minto stood over the hare, his trident resting on the hare's back, but not pierced into it like he had been doing for much of the afternoon. His captains watched, both amused and horrified as Minto had decided to make the Long Patrol suffer for his losses. There were few prisoners as it was, and most of the hares had already suspected they would be dead soon anyway. The hare kept silent, his thoughts and eyes turned to the beloved mountain.

"Blasted badger." Minto seethed. He had wanted nothing more then another shot at killing the Galgor, but even as he slaughtered the Long Patrol at the front of his war camp, not a single arrow even tried to fall on him. Goading the hares back out was not seeming working.

Minto sighed and then stabbed down, but not on the hare. Landing in front of the poor prisoner, Minto let out a cruel order "Have the rest of these wretches chained and whipped, and then add them to the other laborers." The cats behind Minto did as ordered, dragging the hare and the remaining prisoners away to a fate which was perhaps far worse than death.

Kain kept far to the side, with Gashan and his pirates. He wasn't embarrassed as much as he was frightful. Minto was always quite unpredictable and confrontative. Gashan folded his paws and tapped his feet, angry and spiteful of Minto as he looked over the remaining camp. What he saw made him have some very serious doubts about his loyalties.

It should have been a momentous victory, an occasion for the vermin to celebrate the defeat of the badger lord and his armies. Instead, the vermin and their masters were utterly dejected and softened since the battle. A large section of the frontal vanguard was downright obliterated, their defenses shattered, and even more horribly injured. There wasn't morale in the camp as much as mandated fear, as delusional overseers cracked whips to get their vermin back into line. The slaves of the camp looked just as defeated, especially when their masters had them begin rebuilding the defenses as swiftly as they could. Minto and a sizable army now sat in the front, and Gashan made the first move forward to Minto.

Minto turned and angrily hissed "You better give me a good reason not to behead you, sea scum. A very bloody good reason."

"Ya try it, an' me boys go home an' ya can fight dis war on yer own."

Minto scoffed. He had not downright struck Gashan down when he learned what had happened on the northern beach. They were close to breaching into a section of the mountain, but the collapse of the tunnels now reduced the potential siege to only one main entrance. "Just consider yourself lucky to be in my father's considerable web of mercy, weasel. Now prepare your beasts, we will be readying an assault tomorrow."

Some of the captains gasped, and Kain looked like he was about to puke. Gashan raised his voice in anger "Ya want to order an' assault on dat fort, after the considerable losses ya got? I ain't committing to yer suicide, cat."

Minto turned his attention back to the mountain and grunted "Oh don't be senile. This was already planned far before this little skirmish."

"An pray tell how we are gonna breach a blasted mountain?" Gashan had said sarcastically, but Minto's captains listened rather intently. They were curious to see if their commander was insane or not.

"Inside the mountain is a minion of our emperor, Gashan. It will open the doors wide open in the coming morning. We must be rushing into the mountain's main gate and secure it, and then we'll keep pushing it in till we take the mountain."

"Sounds good, just one little problem." Gashan's voice reeked of dirision, a fact not lost on by most around him. Minto gave him a dark look, and answered him "Pray tell, what kind of 'little problem' could there possibly be."

"Yer an' idiot."

Minto gritted his fangs in utter contempt of the weasel, even moving to come a little closer to him in a menacing mood. "I do not take insults from the likes of you."

Gashan held his ground and then motioned for Minto to look at his own encampment "Look you idiot, look wit yer blasted eyes. Ya got vermin who barely survived dis battle now sitten by fire tending to some pretty serious wounds. Dey aren't gonna follow ya into some long eared infested mountain. Dat lot needs rest, an' ya need a better plan den tryen to fight an' army dat nearly beat ya into der great sea in narrow hallways. Ya are gonna lead dem right into a bloody slaughterhouse!"

Minto's anger turned into a cruel smile as he turned to his war camp. "Rest? Gashan, when do slaves ever need rest?" Minto motioned for some of his feral cats in the distance, who had whips to their belts. Immediately, from nearby various camp fires where some of the greeneyed horde levies were licking their wounds, the cats snapped whips at them to get them back into various lines of formation. The vermin lived in mortal fear of these creatures, who knew full well they would not be missed if an overseer had crippled them or killed them if they dared to disobey.

"These stupid, insiginicant wretches only have one purpose, which is to die for the glory of helping my damaged family get from a stupid island to this stupid forest. My father may go on some speel about our natural superiority, how we must be responsible towards this lot as their superiors. These woodlander folk toil as we tell them, you vermin fights as we tell you, and my people? We rule and command. Now, get ready for the assault you dolt."

Gashan was furious and angry, but considered himself lucky his other commanders and subordinates were elsewhere. Only his closer crew could see him fuming. Had Gashan been truly free from his deal with Milo, he would have been utterly done with the likes of Minto and had been off to do anything else. Gashan imagined already setting out with his own vast horde and towards the horizon. Yet, it was this power and horde that was his shackles to beasts like Minto, owing his entire existence to the likes of Milo. Gashan only remained quiet and marched off in silence as Minto returned to looking at the mountain.

Kain was about to head off as well, but Minto hissed at him "Get over here, Kain. We must speak."

Kain turned slowly and came up behind his future brother-in-law Minto. He tried to give a friendly smile, but in truth he was terrified. Minto did not turn to him, and just kept staring up at the mountain.

"I want you to gather two hundred our vermin and march into the woods, Kain. Bring me the people of Mossflower in chains. My father's slavers have returned back to our camp, but many vermin and woodlanders still live freely in this forest. You are to teach them who is coming to rule them again, and this time not in mercy."

Kain frowned and tried to be a bit diplomatic "Oh, well, of course prince Minto. Perhaps I could just go only a little ways in, and start with some of t-"

"Go. Now." Minto grabbed his trident as Kain could see the cat's fury grip its handle with dark intent. "I'll start at once, my prince." Kain fearfully said and went off. Minto kept an eye on the mountain, his burning hatred for it grew with each passing minute. I don't know how I am going to do it, but I am going to burn this place to the ground. No fire in hell will be hot enough!
_

Morning was dawning the next day after the failed attempt to break the vermin siege, and a hare maid was in the kitchens, putting a number of delicate and simple things onto a plate. An apple, a bowl of lettuce and cheese, and a pastry. The hare maid would turn to see other hare cooks, some of them new, were fixing up rations for the hares in a depressed manner. Hares were notoriously gluttonous, and despite all their preparation of food, it was now their grim duty to make military grade rations to make sure they didn't run out of food. The hares had no worries about food, even as they gained a decent supply from terrace farms on the sides of their mountain and had organized their silos to make sure they would be able to feed the sizable force in Salamandastron.

The hare maid took up the plate, passing by a group of children who were playing in the mountain, trying to keep their mind off things. As she walked the halls of the beloved mountain, families were grieving and Long Patrol soldiers would march past towards mustering stations. The battle had left the entire mountain quite depressed, although hope still shined regardless.

The hares kept up their cheery attitude, talking as if nothing was wrong to their youngest recruits who were worried sick. "Cheer up, good lad! Put that frown to the side, them blimey scum out on our beaches won't be there for much longer. No need to be settling in some mope! Hop to it!"

As she walked amongst the halls, the hares were sharpening weapons and getting into marching order, getting ready for their next fight. She smiled at this, as even in defeat the Long Patrol found a means to keep up their legendary spirit.

The hare maid was not Long Patrol herself, in fact she was just a daughter of a very minor officer who was given the duty of bringing up the badger lord's food to his room. She shrugged at such duties, even if it was sold to her as a great honor. She replaced another member, a warrior who would have been doing this, but was now sickly in an infirmary bed who was injured from the previous battle. She was actually kind of excited to see Galgor Ironpaw, hero of the war against Kasg the Craven. Soon to be a hero against the Greeneyed Horde as well.

As she moved up towards the room of the badger lord, there was a quiet. The only voices were that of two other badgers, a mother and daughter who were having their own struggles with one another.

"Do I have too!"

"Yes, Nazla! Yes! For the last time, this old thing is meant to be comfy. It can't be so if keep struggling like you do!" The hare maid came into the lower bedrooms of Galgor's family, seeing the badger consort and her daughter. Narsa Ironpaw was trying, and failing, to put a dress onto her daughter who seemed to be huffing in anger. Despite being the youngest badger, practically a pup, Nazla certainly had a temper.

"This stupid thing itches! Can't I just wear my comfy clothes!"

"It is improper! Especially for a lady of your age. Now please hold still!" Nazla could sense a frustration in her mother's voice. Narsa had spent an entire night being by her sons' sides while hares were digging them out. Salgor was nearly out, but Dagor was still very much trapped. Narsa had not slept in awhile, and Nazla was starting to figure that out. The two looked up at the hare carrying the plate, which would be Galgor's breakfast.

"Oh. Don't be afraid, good mam. Just go on in. That ol' warrior is likely still sleeping anyhow."

The hare nodded and began going up the stairs. There was a silence as she did, reaching slowly to the top of Salamandastron. There were corridors which went towards the badger lord's personal armory and smithy, and others which went to additional small facilities to give the lord more comfort. As she turned towards a corner, another badger appeared, a grim faced figure. The hare nearly jumped back in surprise. The badger looked down at the hare as she fumbled "Oh. Oh! You must be Malgor then? I didn't know you were up here. When the lord awakens, I've come to bring him breakfast."

Malgor said nothing, and stared down as if wondering what to do. He would look down the halls, hearing some voices beneath, making him change his mind "Is my mother and sister downstairs?"

"Oh. Yes, yes of course." The hare maid did not know why, but Malgor seemed a bit distant and she was a little frightened of him. He had given her a deathly eye of some hidden contempt, one which she was a little familiar with.

Malgor only nodded and pushed past the hare and walked with a brisk pace downstairs. The servant gave him a curious look, and thought nothing of it. Everyone after all was on edge. As she reached the door of the badger lord, she prepared herself for her first meeting with the legendary lord. As she opened the door, the darkness of the room was overwhelming. Then she looked down, and saw Galgor lying upon the ground. The hare let out a horrifying scream which would echo and haunt Salamandastron for many seasons to come.
_

Salgor was able to finally crawl out of the dirt rubble much to his brother's annoyance. Despite how strong and warrior brother was, it was Salgor who was able to get up and dust himself off. Covered in dirt and a little weak, he was soon being patted down by hares of the Long Patrol which created a dust storm. Everyone coughed when they realized their mistake as Dagor shouted out "Alright! Now get me out! Legs are feeling too numb for my liking!"

The hares were working around the clock to dig out the two badger brothers. Another shift was coming as the forebeast patted Dagor on his head, spreading yet another bloom of dust. "We'll get you out of there, good chap! Just bolly hand on, an' stop moving!" The hares were taking shovels and picks in a careful manner. The hares regretted not having a mole amongst them, as rumbling could be heard as they did. Despite the promises of their commanders, the hares did not believe they were fully safe from structural collapse. Salgor was finally away from the accursed collapse and sat down, a hare bringing up a drinking horn to the parched badger.

"Seasons. What a fight. Rats are easy and all, but those whiskered devils are a bit harder. Well trained and strong. If they were more armored, I would have even been worried!" Dagor spoke up in a friendly conversation, as Salgor sighed out "What a fight indeed. Although no doubt father will not be happy. We lost too many and gained so little."

"Your first mistake is thinking he is ever happy." Dagor chuckled, but then coughed as dust got into his mouth.

"Looks like you are handling it well." Salgor gave a rare smile to his brother. Dagor was smiling back, but then he wasn't. As if hitting him like a train was a sudden number of thoughts and concerned glances. He looked around, and seemed less and less there. Salgor noticed this "Are you okay Dagor?"

"I don't know. I feel weird. Go check on father, will you?"

"What, why?"

"I don't know. Just go check." Dagor's voice seemed parched, as if he knew something but did not believe it. Salgor shrugged and collected his sword and decided to head towards his father's room. Salgor made a long detour, making his way through the mountain as he looked for Gambit. He was not sure why Dagor wanted to know what father was doing other than resting, but he would satiate his curiosity only once he found his friend. No doubt the old beast is resting from his wounds.

Then Salgor began to hear strange sounds and shouts. He didn't really care as he passed by hares who were rushing in a huffed silence past him. Some hares were missing from their posts much to his annoyance. Then he saw a group of Long Patrol archers rushing up the stairs in a far off corridor. Salgor knew right away what was happening, and even wanted to rush up to help. The foolish vermin were likely swarming the beach, looking to assault the keep. It was foolish, the gates of Salamandastron held firm, and on the far end towards the gates hares were already lining up just in case they breached the main gate.

Salgor continued past them, but then he heard something else. "Assassins! Bolly Assassins in Salamandastron!"

Salgor paused, unsure what the hares meant as they rushed from one end to the other. His pause turned to a shock as he saw a group of officers rushing towards the stairs leading up to his father's room. He began to get into a sprint, planning to rush up as well. Yet, as he was sprinting, a faster group of hares were rushing past him and heading elsewhere. Salgor was about to rush up to see what had happened, but then he paused in confusion. He saw his father, looking lively and uninjured on the top of the stairs leading to the corridors beyond where his room laid. Hares rushed past him as if they could not see him. Without voice, Galgor pointed behind him, down one of the stairs which led into a store room. Salgor turned back to see his father gone, as if he wasn't there to begin with. Curiosity of this mystery overcame him, but his lord had given him a directive even if he had not voiced it.

Salgor went down into the depths at a slow pace, moving into an empty room. His mind turned to what was happening upstairs, unsure of what was even happening and growing more concerned. Perhaps there was a breach, but he couldn't imagine where. He was about head back when he heard a crack and a horrified yelp. Salgor went towards one of the smaller corridors, one which he and his brother had bursted from during the battle on the beach.

At the far end of the hallway, he saw three figures, one far larger than the others and two slumped over hares. Salgor came closer, recognizing his brother Malgor. He was looking with his eyes, but Salgor could not believe what he was seeing. One hare had a twisted neck and the other one looked crushed. Malgor was surprised to see Salgor looking at him, as the sounds of battle cries roared from outside. Then, wordlessly, Malgor began to open the secured door.

"No! Malgor! Wait!" Salgor tried to rush over, unsure what his brother was doing, or why the hares were dead. He refused to believe it, even as Malgor opened the gates wide open, and coming on through was Gashan and a group of vermin. Salgor was taken aback, expecting to see his brother skewered. Instead, the true colors he had tried to deny became all the more pronounced as his brother faded through the door's vermin interlopers and as they began to charge down the hallway.

As the vermin charged, Salgor cleaved the fast foes in front, as other vermin kept charging. Gashan kept to the back, keeping his distance while others charged forward for him. This had been Gashan's first true assault, and he was not having a good time, as he tried to keep back from the fighting while also being in front. There was no room, and he found himself being pushed forward or accidently jabbing himself on his ally's extended weapons.

Yet, as Salgor killed vermin to his front, he was being constantly pushed back. The vermin extended their spears and pike and it became more difficult to keep them at bay. Salgor yelled out for help, as the fighting broke out into the main storeroom. The vermin kept up a constant pressure as they continued to storm on in, even passing the badger as they rushed into the mountain itself.

These vermin, meant to breach the main mountain felt lucky at first, to get the first pickings of a battle they thought already won. As they ascended, they were greeted by surprised hares. One hare was felled immediately in the charge, but soon the hares were swarming all over them. Long Patrol formed up into a very open formation, and began to push and slice past the vermin host and were already rushing into the storage room. Salgor's life was saved only in the nick of time as a group of hares rushed in, with the thunderous war cry "Blood an' Vinegar!" echoing in the mountain. Gashan was pushing his way out of the mountain, allowing the foolish pirate levy and their wildcat masters to rush into an increasing bloodbath.

---

Canton Wildlough at the current moment was experiencing a number of feelings about his current situation. Despair at the depravity of the vermin, anger for being captive and bound to two evil enemies of his kingdom, and sorrow for the state of his people who now languished on Sandbeach. However, he also felt shame and terror as well, especially upon the deck of the Holy Reckoning.

Canton was facing a crowd of corsairs and lizards who were all in front of him. It was in the dead of night, with the waves rocking the boat lightly. To his side was the Black Sea Plow, with another corsair galley docked closeby. Canton had gotten a taste of Senger cruelty when he was made to work on Sandbeach, and his back still pained him which gave him a trembling posture. Canton was in front of the corsairs, illuminated by a stage light of a torch and wore this humiliating dress, his face painted a colorful white with purple cheeks. Canton looked like a clown, and struggled to strike a very dramatic stance. Barbo had asked Canton to help put on a play for his crew, a play he knew from fellow pirates in the west. It was a play called 'The Sudden Break of Lady Dimu', a lone play of a ferret maiden going into a weird tirade of their beloved at sea.

As this would cause Canton humiliation, he went along with this for another reason beyond trying to impress his captors. Barbo and his daughter were side by side, but his eye was on one of Barbo's unfortunate galley slaves which Barbo held a knife casually to his throat. Barbo had made it very clear that if he messed up, and did not impress his crew with acting, there would be one less rower tomorrow morning. The rower looked terrified, a nephew of one of the clan leaders who looked pleadingly at Canton.

Canton raised his paw to the sky, saying a rehearsed line with a bored expression "an' with the sky above, I do not give my life to thee. I give my life to salt and water, for it taketh the light, and moon from me." Canton found the play to be cheesy, but he figured that was exactly the point. He gritted his teeth as he continued the cheesy speech "An' with my life, I give unto my heart of gold, the jewel of my eye I hope will return with the coming sound of bells."

Canton hated speaking as he knew exactly why Barbo was doing this to him, mostly because the stout explained it in a far flung manner. Barbo wanted to 'teach' him how to be more humble, and thought being an actor would make him shed his 'royal shell'. The truth was a lot more simple, as Barbo and his daughter looked on with childish eyes, awaiting the moment that Canton messed up.

"Oh, do not be so bored when you speak, good prince! You must put some effort into your voice! You need to sing it loud, and proud, as if you had lost a lover to the very sea itself!"

Canton wanted to scowl, and nearly did, up until Barbo put his knife ever closer to the rower's neck. Canton was ready to panic, but tried to keep his composure. He continued, his mind trying to remember the lines he had been given by Barbo to study.

"Oh sea, please, please give onto me the dead, the fish, and the wreck! Please give onto me news of my de-departed!" Canton was having a hard time remembering the words, as Barbo's head moved closer as if he awaited a climax. Canton could see the knife was now close enough to the sea otter's throat to draw a speck of blood.

Canton collected himself, at least he tried, giving a pained voice "A-an I will give to you g-gold, jewel, and ship for-for the return of my belove-beloved!"

Barbo suddenly let go of his captive, punting him face down onto the deck and then arose with a thunderous applause followed by his crew "Oh! Oh bravo! Bravo!"

Penolpe added to Canton's misery "Quite a show, although this poor thing did need a bit too much help to get that sorrowful voice, sadly. Otherwise, quite a show indeed. So when do we finish it up, fasha."

"My dear pumpkin, soonish. However, even for the likes of me I can tire, and so do beasts such as this. Everyone to your bunks and your blankets! Tomorrow we will likely arrive right in Mossflower!" There was a cheer amongst the crew. The rower and Canton were grabbed by the gruff of their necks by some of the crew, and dragged below deck as Barbo swaggered to his cabin.

Canton felt like a hapless fool in his costume, but felt even worse when given to such indignity on Barbo's unholy ship. The corsairs carefully took the costume off Canton and shoved a rag onto the Green Isle prince. He and the rower were sat near the center of the gallery, mildly awakening some of the rowers who were sleeping and snoring on their paddles. The taskmaster came over and slapped manacles onto them both, and then went back to his little corner to sleep himself.

Canton could not sleep, as he felt cheated. He had expected a swift end at least, something he would perhaps be martyred for. He had rescued his brother from this fate, but even this did not give him hope. He tried to keep up his appearance as proud and noble, a true son of the Wildloughs. Yet, the prince couldn't help but feel so tired and broken he was slipping away. He kept staring out into the darkness of the gallery, disappointed in what he saw. His people, noble and proud once, now had simply accepted this fate worse than death. They smelled horrible, and they looked uncaring. Few would glance at him, as if trying to deny that even the son of their king was now in the same accursed boat as them.

Canton angrily looked at the oar which barely gleamed in the pale light of the midnight sky through small holes. It was beyond humiliation. Where he was once used to a nice and soft silken bed, now his beds for the last few weeks had been made of straw or a cold hard ground. Yet, sleeping on the oar was perhaps somehow worse. He wasn't even given a comfortable place to sit let alone lay down his head. It was never comfortable, but each night he would lay down his head in tiredness. It always soundly defeated him, and it showed.

No. I must endure! For Gorgland. For Pa! For Green Isle! For them. I must endure, I must not become like them, I must inspire hope! Yet Canton couldn't help it. Like as if on schedule, his head began to slump and he rested his head on the oar like the others, and closed his eyes. He gave one shameful look around at the gallery, seeing that no one was awake for him to inspire. He didn't even realize he went to sleep as he shut his eyes to blink.
_

Tarlo was on the deck of the Black Sea Plow and was awaiting something in the brisk morning. His eyes would shift at the crew of Sagan's ship. Sagan had been a gracious guest to Grof's marines, who would be acting as Tarlo's bodyguards as he went off to complete his mission. Tarlo was smelling the fine air of the ship, and had been surprisingly a lot more diligent as he helped out around the ship. Tarlo was perhaps the most surprised himself, as he found himself enjoying the work he was doing. He looked to the sky and smiled, as his gull Peckers was flying overhead, and began to circle the ship. He had sent out the white bird to see how far they were from Mossflower, and he was anxious to get to its shores.

"Grof. It seems we are only but a day away from the shores of Mossflower." Tarlo had said, but he wasn't sure if he should be cheerful or concerned.

Grof was next to him and nodded "Yesff. Yesff indeed."

"I've never seeen this land before. Is it true? Is it a land of trees, waters which flow without end, and filled with all manner of beasts?"

Grof shrugged, trying to not speak. It still hurt for Grof to even use his mouth, which Tarlo accepted as his answer. Tarlo was a bit anxious, his new directive was to lead a siege, which he seemed rather nervous about. "Grof, this 'Redwall'. I hear so much about it from the later tales and legends, an enemy who has been the bane of my family. Yet, I don't even know who or what it is. Is it a temple?"

"Nay, tis an abbey."

Sagan was coming over with a drink in his paw, gurgling down a morning brew of grog. The fox pirate gave a wide smile at the open air of the ocean, and looked out over it "As we get closer to Mossflower, ya best be on der lookout as best ya can. Even if yer brother is der already, Mossflower be a dangerous land."

Grof could not have agreed anymore, as he nursed his aching jaw. "We fought badgers and long patrol folk, I don't see how an abbey of peaceful folk be any different. This abbey has long been a monument of my family's destruction, and tearing it down will go a long way of regaining our hold on this land. Although to admit, neither me nor father had ever set eyes on this land. Only have we heard tales and seen maps, an empty land full of forests and barbarian villages."

"Long Patrol ain't der only danger der. Otter holts an' shrews can quickly turn a small division of hardened pirates into little more den a bunch of waterlogged dead beasts." Sagan grunted. Tarlo gave him an odd look.

"Otters and shrews don't frighten me. My father and his fathers before him have spent many seasons putting them back into the proper order of things. I do not, can not, fear the likes of them."

"Then ya haven't fought dem proper den." Sagan had said annoyed. "I fought a good number of dem on sea, caus' dat be where I can sing an' dance in wit a ship like dis. Shrews an' otters got der own song an' dance but they can give a decent fight. On land? Different story dem lot in Mossflower. Me an' a good ol' pal named Carch tried to do some raiding der. Fell right into a battle wit a shrew tribe called der Gousim. Beat us fair an' square dey did, an' killed a lot of hard folk. Sling an' sabre can do more damage if in der right paws."

"To not insult, Sagan, but your people and mine are different. I am a bred warrior and leader, and if my brother can drag those kind of folks in chains back to Sandbeach, I think we will fair much better."

Sagan tapped his paw, and thought back to his conversation with Barbo in that library. If he had no known, he would have been a lot angrier with the cat, but now the fox was peering at him, and could see that Tarlo believed this foolishness in a naive way. "Tarlo, I ain't insulted, but ya really need to not be dragging us right into an' ambush."

"Grof here and his marines are some of the best scouts I know." Tarlo said pridefully. Grof would have been perhaps a bit prideful himself had he not kept nursing his broken and flattened nose.

"I believe ya fer now, but dem folk in Mossflower do not play fair. Ya fought em on a ship, in territory we know best. In Mossflower, dey use der forests like how I use der sea. Fifty shrews wit enough stones can wipe us out if dey wanted to, an' we gotta avoid dem as best we cans. Otters too."

"You sound like you fear them." Tarlo lifted an eyebrow.

"Its cause I do." Sagan grunted "They know how vermin fight, cause dey spend years fighten vermin folk of der north an' east. They know how we can win in a close battle wit our blades, so they duck into der river, ambush invader armies, an' use javelins to a sickening degree. Tis why when ya hear of dem, der be good reason why one hare be worth a hundred vermin. One otter fer fifty. One shrew fer twenty. Ya have to spot em' first, an' kill em' fast enough fer it no longer to matter, matey. If not, an' dey get der upper paw, dey get it real hard."

"I suppose you are right in that account, if Green Isle's otters are anything to go by." Tarlo tapped his chin, thinking it over. "Yet, if Green Isle is anything to go by, it will be either incredibly easy, or stupidly hard. I just hope Minto doesn't downright kill all of them or something."

Sagan gave Tarlo an odd look, wondering about something he really did want to know. "Tarlo, ive seen ya treat der folk on Sandbeach a lots better den I see in the likes of utter vermin taskmasters. Given em' extra food an' all. Yet I must ask, if ya really respect der creatures an' wish em' well, why ya wanna put dem on dat hellish land ya call home."

Tarlo gave the fox a curious look "I don't really know what you mean."

"Come now, ya whiskered rot brain. I've seen slave pens an' work camps when I was worken under Carch, an' visited a whole lot of hordes. I've seen dat misery well an' before. Tis just life in der north, fer woodlander an' vermin alike. Dat miserable lot on Sandbeach? Tis der worse i've seen in der while, if not thee worst. Is der even a point?"

Tarlo was silent for a moment, before letting out a sigh in agreement. "Father may be a bit overzealous, and my brother as well, but there is a method to the madness. There is a reason I gave that Wildlough Prince over to Barbo, temporarily at least. My mother would have had such a beast killed, or even tortured as a prisoner of war. An arch enemy of half of my bloodline. Yet, I know full well that when we ruled, we were a great and merciful people, who ruled a land with order and peace. Even if such beasts had lost their way, I pity them. They work for us, as servants, and must be taught their place again in the order me and my wise father laid out for them, for they cannot rule themselves. Most beasts who are not cats cannot. Not to insult, but even you cannot rule yourselves, the need for such freedom is admirable to an individual, but it is my family who must keep order."

"Ya act like as if freedom be a terrible ding."

"Is it not? Freedom brings with it all the joys I am certain you belove, but who cares for you when the day is done? Yourselves, most certainly. My people still cloth, feed, and care for those beneath us, even if we must remind them. In the west, beasts like those who serve us know their place and do not question or act against them. My father, and likely I, will have to teach that lesson to these beasts. If they remain clinging to freedom. . ." Tarlo paused, frowning a bit. "Then it means my family can fail again, it means all we had done would have meant nothing. One rebellion can lead to the death of our dynasty. My brother, Minto, takes more from father than he knows. Both believe terror and total rule means we can abuse our wards. I don't think so. I think they just need a gentle push, to show we are their superiors, and that accepting their place will be good for them."

Sagan would have chuckled had he not wanted to keep Tarlo's delusion to himself. He had no love for such debates, even if he knew this kind of speech before. Vermin had a very similar view of woodlanders, and it was quite universal, although not to the extent or forethought that Tarlo had. Sagan then spoke up "Tarlo, have ya ever considered dat beasts like dat don't want to be in yer pa's 'order'. Cause if order be what ya folk do to em' on Sandbeach, i'd honestly want to drown meself."

Tarlo was silent, but had had an answer as he spoke up after a long "We must drag them, kicking and screaming to a more civilized world, Sagan. Once we win, all the terrible things done will stop. There will be no need for chains once they learn their proper place."

"An if dey don't."

"Then they will perish, as is the fate of all enemies of my family. In time."

Sagan drank a little lightly, but could see as Tarlo looked out over the ship that even he had doubts. Sagan shook his head and went back to his command deck. Insane cat. Yet, at least he has an' inch of reason. Maybe when's we reach Mossflower, he'll get a shock of sense.
_

The two ships, the Black Sea Plow and the Holy Reckoning were side by side and dropped anchor. They weren't far away now, but Barbo had requested a parlay for reason which became clear when his crew began to bring several large maps and tools of the western coasts. It was perhaps their only real map of Mossflower the pirate had, which Tarlo was swift to greet him. Barbo gave his usual low and humble bow as he smiled with his cheerful grin "My good Tarlo, before we head into the heart of darkness that is Mossflower country, we must make our plans before we arrive."

"You had an idea?"

"Yes. If your brother is besieging Salamandastron, the ancient volcano home of badgers and what not. I imagine you have a map of Mossflower on standby? I have nothing to really help out, but I do have some light reading on the subject." That 'light reading' was a massive looking book being clumsily carried by a corsair into Sagan's cabin. Sagan had come from his command deck and looked rather unhappy.

"I'd radder not, Barbo. Besides, ya seem intent on tactics more so den we. Marching to dat red wall abbey will be der hardest part of this 'campaign'. Got a huge crew even now, but an even larger force at dat wildcat camp we be sailen to."

"Of our victory I have no doubts, but we must not forget the most important part of a siege."

Tarlo looked confused and asked "And that is?"

"The flare of course." Barbo gave a wider grin, as if proud. "Sieging down an abbey to starvation? Boring and lame it is. A valiant assault perhaps you may ask of me? Nay to that as well, for it has been done to the great red abbey many times before. If we are to siege down this abbey and do what Sandbeach's wonderful emperor had asked, I must inquire for a new approach. I had some ideas, you see, a daring raid in the middle of the night, where few take the valiant keep that once held against hundreds of vermin pillagers! It would make a grand tale, you see."

Tarlo's pragmatic training under various teachers would have been gnawing at him had he not been impressed with Barbo's sincere request and his boldness. "We shall see. I'd rather win such battles without too much risk, lest father hear of how our valiant assault accidentally ends up being a sudden fall from grace. Both figuratively, and literally if we scale such walls with rope."

The three were about to head in, but the three heard a scuffle below them. Barbo listened intently, and then perked up with amusement. "Ah, he attempts again! Most excellent."

Tarlo and Sagan heard a couple growls, some yelps, and then a sudden crash. The lizard Molgar eventually appeared to climb up the deck, carrying Canton Wildlough in his slimy paws and holding him tightly. Canton continued to resist and scream out "Let me go you overgrown, fat frog!" The lizard slid out his tongue in annoyance and then brutally crashed the sea otter into the deck of the ship and in front of Tarlo. Canton seethed as Barbo came over and informed the wildcat. "Such bravery, wasted on so little. I'm actually tempted to even allow you to go, but I have promised to keep you alive."

"Is he trying to escape?" Tarlo asked

"From time to time, even with those things on." Barbo drew his sword and lightly smacked the shackles on Canton's feet. The otter was worse for wear, looking more and more like a common slave then a prince. "He'd drown in time, weights and all! He might swim out a bit, but exhaustion can affect even beasts such as him who are built for it. I think this is the forth time he tried to go overboard, but the spirit young royaling is not exactly as smart as he thinks he is. Such things happen before on the deck of my good galley."

"What exactly he be doin on yer deck anyhow, Barbo? Ain't he rowen yer ship?"

"At times, but I have him learn the fine arts of cleaning and scrubbing the deck of my ship. You should have seen the play he got to perform last night! Quite a spirited voice I must say, when goaded properly."

Canton was held down by the lizard, who may have been at equal height but was a lot stronger than him. The lizard kept his feet on top of the sea otter who angrily snarled "I swear on me kin! I'll have your head on a pike, Barbo Senger!"

"Spirited indeed." Sagan chuckled with amusement. Canton shifted his eyes to the three menacing figures in front of him, but of them only Tarlo looked down with an increasing contempt. Tarlo was gripping his trident and spoke up in an authoritative and cold voice "Threats are meaningless, sea otter. Your resistance is not appreciated, and you would do be-" Tarlo was cut off as Canton bravely, although foolishly, spat upward in anger. It landed on Tarlo's garb which he wiped off. He continued, with an even worse contempt in his voice "You would be better off if you simply just accepted your fate now, and be done with such foolishness. You and your people would be better off if you only could listen and learn."

"Listen an' learn!? You and your kind are nothing but murderers and slavers all! You can try to beat us, but we will always stand on our own two feet we will!"

Tarlo did not look amused. Tarlo looked towards the brig and called out "Morland, would you please come?" From the brig, Morland peaked his head and came over a bit fearful. Tarlo shaped him up and pulled him to the side so that he stood in front of his former prince. Morland looked embarrassed, and also horrified. Tarlo looked to present Morland who kept his head bowed and his paws behind his back, a servile stance which Canton had saw before on Sandbeach.

"We are not murderers, we are warriors. We are not slavers, but saviors. Look at this servant, and knowing his proper place he is now healthy and tame. All this talk of bravery and resistance will only bring you trouble for me, which is why you are even here to start with. As it was ages ago, your existence is by my family's right to own your people. I could kill you, but you and my kin would want it. If you were to only see reason, I can yet save you and your people."

"Save us?!" Canton nearly wanted to rush forward, but was held tightly by his slimy captor. "You vile wretch! We will not break for the likes of you! You cannot break me!"

Barbo came over and patted Tarlo's shoulder "Spirited, isn't he young Tarlo? Perhaps a detour and a few more days on my ship will grant him some sense. I know a couple decent tricks that could speed up this little process."

"No. We cannot delay sadly." Tarlo shook his head. Morland found himself trying to not keep in eye contact with Canton who increasingly looked up in anger at him. Canton expected the older sea otter to do something, anything, but Morland kept to a stillness. Tarlo looked down at Canton and then pointed to Morland's branded cheek.

"You see this, sea otter? This is the mark of the unruly, damned for service for being incapable of learning to live in our society, and forever to be slaves to my family. I do not have you branded in such a manner as I hope being at least a bit educated, you will at least learn in time. However, if I must, you will be presented to your usurper of a father with that mark when I force his surrender when the horde moves on my family's rightful lands. Your submission will be the difference between me leading such a charge. Or Minto."

Canton looked up in horrified eyes, shifting his eyes between Tarlo and the others. It was like a nightmare, and he didn't see much of an enemy but a group of delusional mad beasts who either fully believed in such things or pretended to. Sagan and Barbo would give each other odd looks, as if thinking Tarlo really was wrapped in madness but played along for their own gain.

Tarlo thought it over a bit and then turned to Barbo "Barbo, I appreciate your skills and your efforts, but it seems like perhaps a softer approach is needed." He then turned to Sagan "Just as perhaps you had been such an influence on me, perhaps you could be an influence on this one?"

Sagan grunted in amusement "Maybe, just maybe matey. Not a prolific slave taker an' breaker like Barbo, but I can make do." The fox pirate snapped his paws at his first mate who came rushing over. "Get dis one a bunk in der brig, he be joinen de crew fer a bit till we get to shore! Giv em' a job er two, an' don spare der rod."

Brea gave an evil grin and grabbed the sea otter and was already dragging him down. When he attempted to resist, the stout would slam him into wood to weaken him. Morland sniffed, as he looked up at Tarlo. The wildcat looked less icy now, giving a regretful frown. Morland wanted to ask something, but Tarlo turned to him. "Morland, if you could perhaps give sense to your former prince, that would be most appreciated. Most appreciated." Morland tried to hide his rather embarrassed features as the wildcat and his allies went toward Sagan's cabin to plan out their coming campaign. Morland awkwardly went back to doing what he was doing, his only act of resistance since being in Tarlo's pained service.

---

The battle in Salamandastron raged ever hotter in the ancient home of the hares and badgers. Fighting in an increasingly desperate battle, the vermin cats and their minions tried to rush forward to quickly create a gap for which they could exploit and expand their battlefield. The hares denied them this, pushing them back ever further with desperation. Once the breach had been made, the vermin expected a brutal fight on even ground.

They were proven quickly wrong.

The hares were not fools, as archers began to line terraces on top, coming out from caves towards large stone fortifications surrounding the mountain. Unscalable, the hares fired down volleys upon their opponents. Those who were not getting injured were then getting killed as the hare arrows found their targets with ease. Those on lower floors threw javelins, increasing a killing zone as the vermin began to swarm below them. The vermin had gone in so suddenly that they had few defenses against this, although the hares became increasingly hopeless as they saw their volleys had done little to slow down the advance of the horde. Yet the battle inside was not faring well at all for the vermin, for if Minto had miscalculated one important detail about this assault it was this; space.

The hares fought viciously for control of the breached store room, and each one that fell several vermin fell as well. Salgor and the hares were pushing and shoving like mad beasts against the vermin, taking on one wound after the other. The fighting inside was intense, especially as bodies of friend and foe began to pile up, a fact quickly exploited by the hares. The Long Patrol rushed to slay vermin at the entrance they were swarming in from, creating a blockade of bodies which became harder for the vermin to climb in from. As the hares quickly dispatched the remaining vermin in the room, Salgor began to pick up sacks of grain and boxes and began throwing them towards the entrance. When the vermin soldiers tried to drag their dead comrades away from the fighting, being pushed and crushed themselves, they soon found themselves trying to burst into a wall made of smashed up boxes.

Salgor was wounded once again, and this time he was having a hard time standing up and slumped to the ground, gripping a nasty pike wound at the side of his chest. His face was covered in scars from a trident slapped down upon it. The badger could only watch as the Long Patrol regained their ground as they took crossbows and pikes to their makeshift barricade, keeping the vermin force back as much as they could.

"Hold the line! We'll kill the blighters in the tunnels!" Biggum shouted, just as he came rushing into the secured storage burrow. The hares kept up the pressure as the vermin slowly retreated, being quickly replaced by feral cat archers who began to skirmish in the tunnels. The vermin slowly, but surely, began to counter the hare's tactics as they began to push their own wooden barricades and began to clear bodies from the tunnels. Although the hares held a drastic advantage, keeping the main enemy away from fully breaching into the mountain, they soon began to hear slamming of battering rams on their other doors. The vermin were desperately trying to assault the mountain fortress, and were throwing everything they could into it.

Biggum came over with a worried expression to Salgor who was gripping his wound. He yelled over his hares "Medic! We need a medic!" Several hares came immediately to tend to Salgor as the fighting could be heard closeby. Salgor cried out to Biggum through his pain.

"Biggum! Malgor. Malgor let them in! Mal-Malg-" Salgor grew ever dimmer as Biggum gave an expression of terror and knowledge, as if he had already known something. Salgor began to pass out as the fighting became a muffle in the background.
_

The moment Dagor was free, he was rushing through the halls, passing by hares who rushed with him to the southern entrance of the mountain. The warrior badger gripped his battle axe harshly, still getting used to his free legs. Yet, as he rushed forward he felt a throbbing pain in his head, as if he knew something but didn't have the means to get to it. It was like a memory, burned into his mind as thoughts of Malgor, his father, and others filled it. He didn't understand it, let alone could explain it, but he kept rushing towards the entrance as he saw the chaos unfolding. The hares were dragging an unconscious Salgor up the stairs of the breached burrow and caring for him. Dagor's anger bloomed as he called out to Biggum who was coming up the entrance. He gave a horrified look to Dagor, as he rushed over.

"Biggum. I need you to get as many logs as possible. You need to cover them and pitch and set them alight and shove it into those hole! Get the engineers to collapse this tunnel and any other tunnels leading to it! If father isn't aw-isn't. . ." Dagor then had some kind of memory and a sudden fury and sadness overwhelmed him. "Galgor. Is Galgor with us still?"

Biggum would have been shocked had he not been aware of the power of Salamandastron, as it was clear from Dagor's sudden knowing on what the mountain chose to lead them. Biggum regained what little composure he had and saluted "My lord. Galgor, your father, is with us no longer. His assassin. He fled and-"

"Malgor." Dagor seethed, grinding his teeth. Biggum didn't wish to believe it either, but Dagor seemed to already know as he angrily called out "Get to it Biggum! I will lead our best into the fray! Give me a signal once you are done." Dagor raised his battleaxe and went below, followed by the screams of vermin. The badger bursted through the barricade made by Salgor and then obliterated the vermin one down the halls. Even as arrows entered him, blood rushed and flowed in and out of him. Dagor's fury became absolute, as vermin fell before him and many began to flee. As many fled, others replaced them as the vast host marched ever onward into the mountain. The traffic on the beach grew ever bigger with the greeneyed horde still pushing and shoving its way forward.

Biggum did as asked, and the hares jolted to get as many logs as they could. They didn't pour pitch onto them, but booze and alcohol, as it was closer. The hares began to set the logs in the reclaimed store room, and were swiftly evacuating it of its essentials. Not all could be saved as the hares set these logs alight. A fire spread to them, consuming it. The heat and smoke became ever more pronounced, as smoke bellowed both into and out of the mountain. Dagor and his remaining hares retreated, pushing past the heat and smoke and up the stairs.

The vermin inside could not see, pushing into an increasing inferno. Forced forward by the whips of their masters, the vermin found the air choked out of them, and could not go any further. The smoke bellowed through them, consuming the vermin as they coughed and gagged. Dagor and his hares did not fare much better, several hares even passing out once they reached the top of the stairs. The tunnels to this storeroom were then collapsed by engineers. The rubble created an immediate barrier, but none knew how long it would last. As Dagor regained his composure, he called out.

"It will not last for long, but it will buy us time! Get guards at every entrance that was collapsed, and put our marksbeasts on the terraces. I want to keep them demoralized and slow as much as possible!" The hares did as bidded, as Salgor was coming back to life. He looked confused at his brother, wanting to say something. Dagor gave him a frown, as if he knew what Salgor was going to say.

"Salgor. Come. We must go and comfort our mother."
_

Galgor Ironpaw, hero in the war against Kasg the Craven, the great bulwark against the vermin, and father of four laid dead. On a bed sheet in the infirmary the badger lord was covered in a white cloth, pronounced dead. Many had come to pay their respects at the side of the bed, and others weeped into it. Narsa was beside herself, inconsolable as she forced herself back towards the comfort of her own room. Biggum and Doufy talked briefly at the side of the bed, their hearts torn asunder from what they knew now of what had happened. Now the children of Galgor surrounded him, silently looking down upon the sheet in a mixture of sorrow, regret, and anger.

"You lie! You liar! He couldn't have done it, he couldn't have!" Nazla spoke up, angrily at Salgor. The badger ignored his little sister as best he could, looking down in horror at the sheet before him. He didn't wish to imagine what was even behind it, what wound his brother inflicted to kill their father. Nazla's tears had not dried up since she had been informed, but they paled in comparison to the river of their mother. Salgor could not come to grips with such treachery, it was inconceivable, but his siblings and his mother now bordered on delusion.

"You must be lying. You have to be!" Nazla pouted "Malgor, he couldn't have done this! How could he do this!"

Salgor had no answer, but he spoke in a slow voice "I wish I was, Nazla. I know what I saw."

"And I believe you." Dagor seethed, gritting his teeth in utter contempt. Both brothers may have been full of cuts and wounds from the recent fighting, but the care of the hares kept them from pain. Dagor seethed, angry that he had now known, but yet did not. His mind was jumbled with all manner of things of what was once and will be. He gripped his head, unable to collect all his answers to him as Nazla spoke up, trying to to excuse such actions "May-maybe he was blackmailed?! He is our brother! How could he do this to us, and for what! All he wanted was to leave the mountain, and then he does this?! There must be something, no good beast would do this! Vermin do this! Vermin!"

Neither brother wanted to speak up, but Dagor could feel a change in him. His anger, fury, and spite flowed from him like a river and slowly he came to know things he didn't even realize he knew. The names of hares he had no interest in he now knew with full clarity, flashes and images in his mind of what was happening outside would appear in his mind. "He must be buried, with honor. Of Malgor's betrayal, we must keep it secret as much as possible."

Salgor's eyes fluttered with fury, turning his head from Galgor's ghostly sheet to Dagor. Dagor was looking at him, as if already expecting what his brother was thinking. Salgor seethed "What."

"Salgor, as the lord of Salama-"

"No, you do not just get to command me, Dagor!" Salgor raged out. "Malgor, that murderer and wretch! He nearly had you all killed, or worse! You want to cover up his crime, and for what! Look at him, Dagor! Look at him! He is dead, and any chance we have in defending this blasted mountain has died with him." Salgor pointed angrily to Galgor's body, caring for it as little as his moralistic prop. "Malgor is a traitor, who committed the highest treason there is! I will not be silent on this, not for a second!"

"Then you will doom us before we even can avenge him, Salgor." Dagor said, uncharacteristically calm. "You saw mother, did you? Babbling and unable to even fathom that our dear brother had done this. What do you think the hares think? There are already troubles, and you bloody well have seen it. The hares will know in time, but we are at a breaking point brother. That breaking point will either tip in our favor, or lead us off a cliff. It was our blood who spilled our own, and it will look terrible if our own begin to wonder if we are no better then vermin warlords, our blood betraying blood! We must be wise in this, and plan out our attack with precision."

"Like as if you cared about any blasted hare in this mountain, Dagor!" Salgor venomously spat, which got a critical glance from his brother "The hares follow us because it is their duty. We need to go out, through the old tunnels to the eastern sections, and drag that traitor back here! If you are so soft about taking care of this kind of business, then clearly I will have to do it for you, as I always have!"

"I know you are angry, Salgor, but do n-"

"No! Shut up! I will not be lectured by the likes of you! You have always been so quick to command me, but have not deserved it one bit. You can pretend all you want to be 'wise' and 'chosen' by this stupid rock we call home! I am never going to be convinced." Salgor practically wanted to go over to his brother, to shake him to reason. He was stopped by the weight he felt in his chest, as he looked back down at his father that he wished would arise and comfort him. "He deserved to die far afterward, and now he is gone. With or without you, I am going to go find Malgor. I am going to kill him, and put his head on a pike!"

Dagor looked not with anger, but with pity at Salgor. Nazla tried to reason with Salgor, but her words did not come off well to the badger's ears. "Pa wouldn't have wanted this, Salgor! You may be a stoney ol' soul, but Dagor is right an-"

Salgor's fury turned towards his sister, angrily shouting out "The day I take advice from you, Nazla, is the day I throw myself off a terrace! Can be silent for five blasted moments of your life! I do not ask for it, nor want anything you have to say! Our father is dead, Nazla! Dead! Gone! Thrown into the black forest, and none of you want to even avenge his death! His body is barely cold, and you already try to eat at his responsibilities, none of you have worked a blasted day in your lives!" Salgor stopped his ranting, as he could see his small sister starting to tear up. A silence fell over the group as she gave a defiant look to her brother and then huffed, marching off to be away from him.

Dagor gave one last look at his father, and then his own fury began to boil over to Salgor who didn't seem to care much. "Do us a favor, good brother, and at least prepare for the funeral. I'd prefer you remain silent throughout it." Dagor marched off in turn, leaving Salgor to his lonesomeness. Salgor hoped that his father would hop back to life and fix things as he usually did, but that hope faded as time flowed on by. The badger, prideful and cold, began to swell with emotion as water flowed from his eyes in the lonesome room.

---

Minto was overlooking the battle from a distance, his wounds from the previous day did not make him confident in trying to assault the main keep. He was quite jubilant when he saw the vermin breach one hole, and distract the Long Patrol as they attempted to break into others. The doors held firm, but the main breach into the mountain from one of the store rooms had been quite promising. His optimistic smile soon turned into an increasingly contempetable frown as he saw smoke billowing out of the breach in the hole. Gashan briskly walked over from the battle, keeping an eye on the top of the mountain as the hares stopped firing down at the vermin, confident that the attempt to breach the mountain had been stopped. The enemy archers were safe from those below who tried to fire up at them, much to the dismay of the trained cat archers. The battle slowed to a crawl, as the hares would demoralize their enemy by firing randomly into the crowd of vermin, making sure they had at least one severe injury or death to keep them on edge.

"They collapsed the tunnels." Gashan angrily called out to Minto, who stood beyond his repaired fortifications "Kain an' the other captains can't breach der other gates, oh noble commander." Gashan's sarcasm was not appreciated as Minto began to ask what was happening.

"The smoke? What of that?"

"Hares burned der own store room wit some logs, an' it created some inferno! Yer captains are trying to whip yer own vermin into dat hole, but its doin little. It could be hours before dat fire fades, but dey heard a collapse of some of dem tunnels. No doubt even if we gets on in, der won't be much else to do."

Minto rolled his eyes "Incompetents. How does my father stand you or Kain is beyond me."

"Whacha ya want us to do, huh? Stab de blasted rocks?!" Gashan was angrily taking off his heavier armor and throwing it into the sand. He didn't care for it at all, even when the cat armorers of the camp reassured him it was excellent. "Look Minto, ya lost dis assault, just admit it. If ya keep dat lot der, they will continue to get massacred by dem archers above."

"Then they can get some shields." Minto looked angry, sure, but he also seemed unsurprised. "We at least have a way into the mountain now, one which has cover. Gashan, grab some of your galley slaves and some hammers. Once the fire dies down, have them start digging out the rubble. We'll continue the battle from there."

"An dem archers above us?"

"What about them. We have more vermin then they have arrows. If you care so much, go tell my idiot future brother-in-law to build some wooden roofs and large shields."

Gashan gave a defeated sigh, as Minto was soon joined by a surprised looking Malgor who was looking over the battle. He seemed almost as angry as Minto, seeing how poorly the assault was going. "I open the very doors to you vermin, and even then you cannot take it. I'd say impressive, but yet unsurprising."

"Wells, a blasted badger got in der way, ya overgrown buffoon. I'd like to know why we got met wit the likes of dat badger lord or whatever ya gots."

"Brother. Salgor actually, if you care for names."

"I do not. What yer brother doin der anyway?"

Minto listened in as Malgor shook his head in his own disbelief. "I have no clue. Once I was done dealing with my father, he just kind of appeared. Who knows, maybe the mountain is magical."

The two vermin had an awkward silence as Minto gave him a critical eye "What do you mean 'took care of your father' by chance."

Malgor seemed almost proud of his deed, giving a light chuckle "Lord of Salamandastron, Galgor Ironpaw, lay slain in his own room. I must admit it was not my best work, but it was quite a show. Old fool may have had injuries from head to toe, but even as he clung to life on the ground till the very end."

Minto was not so pleased "He was mine to kill, you damnable fool! You were only meant to open the blasted door!"

"Plans changed, rather suddenly in fact. Father sent for me, and wanted me to take myself and Salgor down south through some secret tunnel to Southward, to get reinforcements. So what if you couldn't kill him, no doubt that lot in there are more demoralized now than ever."

Gashan motioned to the hares on the top of the mountain, in caves and terraces "Ya, real demoralized, ya idiot. Ya think dem lot really care, dey got two other badgers who can quickly replace em! Ya ruined yer own blasted surprise an' now we are back to square one! If ya were one of me captains, i'd have ya drowned fer such blasted incompetence."

The smirk from Malgor's face began to slide off as Minto also spat "Do tell me, before you killed that arch enemy of ours, did he reveal where these 'secret tunnels' were in by chance?"

Malgor remained silent, answering Minto's question. He was tempted to have Malgor bound and killed, but his deal with Minto prevented his demise. Minto angrily slammed his trident into the sands and looked out over the mountain. "Pirate, go and do as I ask. I'll send out scouts to find this 'hidden entrance' if it even exists." Gashan went to do as bidded, although he mumbled all the way back to the battlefield to meet up with Kain who was struggling to keep hidden near the eastern most gate. Malgor also became silent, as he now had no orders or even a reason to be in the camp. Yet he stayed, effectively now little more than a tourist in Minto's war camp.

Minto spoke up "Your incompetence at least isn't fully complete, but you will stay till I find something for you to do 'future' lord of Salamandastron."

"Minto Greeneyes, if I may ask a favor. . ."

"That I spare your remaining family? Absolutely not! You may have denied me my honor, but you will not deny me my remaining prizes."

Malgor smirked "No, nothing like that. Although I will ask you to spare one. What you do to the rest I couldn't care less for, but for the one named Salgor I would ask you to spare. I'd like to present him as a gift personally to your own father, as a peace offering of sorts."

Minto thought it over and grunted, but then came up with a dubious idea. "I suppose that can be arranged, his condition will entirely depend on where we find him. Yet, if I recall, you have a younger sister. A mother even. Say I do have a little bit of a merciful mood when I finally have this mountain, I capture them and send them to Sandbeach in chains. To live in my shadow, toiling and gnashing their teeth." Minto tried to see if he could get a regretful reaction from Malgor, an excuse for him to declare him a traitor in some way. Yet Malgor only gave an amused grunt.

"Go for it, although Nazla certainly has a cruel mouth. You'd like her, I think, if you are in that 'merciful mood' of yours. No. I just want Salgor to send to that little 'paradise' you call Sandbeach." Minto gave a disappointed huff and went back to the war camp, mumbling to himself. Malgor continued to look over at the mountain of Salamandastron. A cold wind blew from the sea. It'll be mine sooner or later.
_

On the shores of Salamandastron, a feral cat soldier and a sea otter maid were looking out over the waters. Informed that two large and impressive ships were approaching, followed by another, the sea otter was nervous. Having been promoted to the camp's courier, she was now quite nervous even as her supposed and easily bored teacher was trying to explain through some thick accent she had never heard of. It was clear by his wear and his speech he was from across the western sea, and he was not happy being in Mossflower. "You'reb to have a stillbness to your movementb, head upb and back straighbt. Whenb you look inb the eyesb of a chiefbten, youb are representingb your sultanb an' peoplesb."

The sea otter maid gave the cat a curious look. He was very oddly garbed, having scaled armor, with a turban and a curved sword to his side. His shield was to his back. The feral cat, orange in hue and with longer than normal ears then she had known from the old tales, looked almost as miserable as she was. She herself was no longer in rags, although her cleaner and colorful clothes had a white sash, and the fresh symbol on her paw from Minto's carving still stung a bit. She may have been freed from the shackles on her legs, but she now felt just as imprisoned when chaperoned by another cat. She perked up to ask "When you say 'my people', you mean my people or the vermin?"

The cat rolled his eyes. "Milo'sb horde, or whateverb you call it. As you callb a captain orb a chieftainb to the tent of anotherb, youb are not call themb 'vermin'. Pleh! Bad word forb creatures such asb them! An insultb it is, meant forb rat an' stoutb. Not catb."

She nodded as continued to stare at the open sea, hearing the rowing galley of a massive ship coming forward. She tensed up as the ships parked a bit further away in the massive, and barely organized, row of ships and galleys which now lined the beaches. The three ships dropped rowboats and came to the shores. The sea otteress was not fully prepared for what she saw, as Tarlo Greeneyes came ashore, carrying his trident. He looked a lot like a younger and less scraggly Minto. She gave a glance to her 'teacher' who was motioning her to go along to greet them, and went forward.

Tarlo gave the sea otteress a friendly look as she approached, sighing before giving a rehearsed line "The master of the camp Minto Greeneyes greets you, but not in person. I've been sent to inform you to send you to his tent at the far end of the camp, where he can give you orders."

Tarlo gave her an odd and cringed look, as if expecting something else. She seemed uncertain what she missed as Tarlo corrected her eventually after a pause. "I suppose you are new then? Usually, you are meant to say 'master' or 'my lord' after speaking." Tarlo gave a look at the crude scrawl in her paw. She quickly tried to correct her mistake, but her overseer came forth and whacked her upside her head "Foolb beast. Myb lord, I amb sorry. Thisb one is new, and ourb other couriersb are elsewhere."

Tarlo smiled "It is forgiven. Then I must commend this one for their fealty of promotion! Usually we would be greeted by one of the stouts we have."

"Web would, butb this is Mintob's orders." The cat soldier shrugged. Tarlo looked confused, knowing his brother's contempt for the slaves. He had noticed the camp was quite busy, with the slaves of the camp rowing out with several of their masters to fish out in the open waters, and soldiers tending to wounds. Tarlo was joined by Sagan and Barbo who were looking out over Mossflower's misty forests. The bright day became soggy with clouds, as Tarlo had spent much of his time before heading to shore gazing out at the massive trees and brush. They had spotted the attempted assault which had died down as the vermin host continued to swarm on the beach. Tarlo was curious about this, especially when Minto had abandoned the north end of the beach, with a skeleton garrison which was encamped there.

"I see. I will see myself to Minto's tent. Thank you."

Barbo and Sagan were followed by a large host of soldiers and servants. Morland passed by the new found courier, his eyes shamefully gazing at the ground, and followed by a procession of gray cloaked water rats, hardened pirates, lizards, corsairs, and one figure she was shocked to recognize. Looking weak and barely conscious, Canton Wildlough was dressed in rags and being carried to shore by an escort of Sagan's first mate Brea and an angry looking rat named Peg who had a bandolier of throwing knives.

"Useless beast, ya mopped like a gal ya did! I'm a gal, an' even I be offended!" Brea complained. Peg also was criticizing him "That twas the worst rope knotting i've seen in me life! When we gets ya all nice an' comfy, gonna have dem cut yer rations into twine I wills! Senseless workbeast."

Canton had not even spent a day on Sagan's ship, which was only a little more preferable than Barbo's. Although not by much. Where Barbo had obsessed in trying to break him and have his fun, Sagan's crew of hardened sailors who had spent more time at sea then on land were very quick to bully and berate him as he was forced to do one peasant task after the other. Barbo made sure Canton had no agency, which was a relief to Canton up until the sea otter found his clothes being whacked right off of him by Peg and his beating stick. The sea otter maiden had recognized him, having once seen him on Green Isle before her capture. Canton didn't recognize her, but he tried to still give out his suicidal warcry to brighten his own mood. "EEEeee ay-" The war cry was stopped when his mouth was shoved with a cloth.

"Eee aye eee dat, ya idiot. No talken, yer master's orders." Canton cringed at this statement as he was marched ever forward, his eyes set upon the trees of Mossflower. His hope was shattered as he saw a vast siege in the distance, and vermin swarming so close to the mountain, unsure if it had already fallen or not.
_

Minto was in his tent, informed only briefly by his captains of what was happening at the mountain. Several slaves were rounded up and were being led off into the burned out cavern that had been their breach into the ancient mountain. Minto had the vermin purposefully begin camping and lying in wait at the entrance to the mountain, trying to avoid being shot by arrows or building up coverings. The vermin had been told to wait, and were guarding the main entrance. Most of the army was not on the beach, but were resting nearby in other camps, specifically Gashan's pirate levy who were growing more impatient. Minto and his minions had been going ever further inland, pulling woodlanders and vermin alike from the woods much to their dismay. Villagers and bandits alike now found themselves as equal as wildcat officers churned brands in fires, putting the mark of damnation upon the faces of horrified beasts. The camp became quite lively and diverse the more the vermin host raided, taking in large quantities of war loot and food to keep their massive army still standing.

Yet this paled in comparison to ships which came out of the west.

Milo was no fool to think that kidnapped vermin thralls and pirates would be enough to win Mossflower, as western ships unloaded reinforcements of cats and shipments of food and supplies to Minto's army. Hares watched with concern from high up as these ships produced an even larger army, many bearing odd banners and colors. Many different cats came from these ships, many curiously looking about at the woods of Mossflower they had never seen before in their own homeland. As the new slaves of Minto's growing horde were put into new roles, they found themselves now helping the cat army siege down the bulwark of their freedom under the pain of the whip or death.

Minto was never a happy beast, but he was diligently in his war tent, confident in his victory. It would only be a matter of times before the attack started up again. Even hares can tire and falter, and once the main army is in the halls, there would be no defeat. Every drop of blood was expendable if it meant he could get out of Mossflower quicker and onto his true glorious campaign for Green Isle.

At the moment, a squirrel popped in leg irons, one of the newer slaves from the cat's raid on the villages. Having been promoted to 'personal servant' didn't really mean much to Minto as the squirrel served him his meal. Minto angrily hissed at him, but not bothering to look at him as he was glued to the maps of Mossflower "Begone with you, slave. Take that wretched meal with you and throw it at some vermin fool."

"An interesting thing to call me." Minto looked up with horrible eyes at the squirrel, having expected some form of resistance he needed to squash. Instead he saw the woodlander looking at the entrance to the tent as Tarlo came in with a smile. The squirrel took his leave immediately, as Minto stood up to meet his brother eye to eye.

"Tarlo." Minto frowned.

"Minto, my good brother." Tarlo smiled.

Minto shook his head "That suffering dolt of a courier sent you then? I'd have said welcome, had you actually been a creature I was waiting for."

Tarlo's smile faded and he sighed "I see you will be this all campaign then. I was about to ask actually, don't the vermin we have carry the commander's messages usually? I hope you didn't send them to fight."

Minto pounded his desk angrily "Of course not you idiot. You can thank our future 'brother' for that little mistake. The wretch sends some common laborer not only to summon me, but the other captains as well. What father sees in that cowardly incompetent is beyond me."

Tarlo and Minto may have fought on many things, but he couldn't help but agree. Yet he could see his brother did not over react like he usually did and smiled "Well, at least you take father's lessons more to heart instead of doing away with such a beast."

"If I ask 'what you mean' Tarlo, I'd better hear something reasonable or I am going to shove you right into a brazier and hope you catch fire." The threat Minto huffed out had no weight to it, but did make Tarlo rather curious. For all his seasons, Minto's cruelty was known to him. Minto had nothing but contempt for those lower and higher then him, the only beast he could be truly friendly with was their cousins and their mother.

"I'd have expected then to see a pike with a head on it, to be honest. Not to give you ideas naturally, but it isn't beyond you."

Minto huffed out angrily "These beasts need to be made useful for one purpose, which is to reclaim our lost land and title, you babbling kitten. These cretans will serve faithfully or incur our wrath, and anyone else who says otherwise is a fool. You think I drag those stupid slave creatures to Sandbeach cause I like seeing such suffering?"

"Well. Yes actually."

Minto paused and grunted, turning back to his maps "You are dismissed, Tarlo."

"Now hold on for a moment, my good brother. Father has asked me to lead an army to the red walled abbey, and I was hoping to get your support."

"Support?" Minto turned back up, a cruel smile on his face. "Oh, you mean my brother needs an entire army to besiege some haunted abbey in the middle of some blasted barbarian forest? I think those corsair thralls you got with you is more then enough. If you need such forces, go grab some of Gashan's pirates and whip them into line. I have a battle here to win."

Tarlo lifted an eyebrow to this "Don't you already have more than enough? You forget that father's allies will join us shortly. The lands of ice and snow will send an entire kingdom's worth of war beasts down here, and the Juska tri-"

"Two thralls of father, who don't even realize a brand will be put to their faces once all is said and done. Mulkan drags his feet as is to be suspected, he army will move towards us once the Juska are ready to march. By the time they even get here, our flag will already be waving over the mountain and those hares inside will be toiling for us in chains. Father's 'traitor' worked about as well as I suspected him to, an utter failure. If our father had any more 'allies', we'd be already buried six feet under."

Tarlo could not help but roll his eyes, as Minto continued to rant "The wretched badger sallied forth, killed a nice portion of our troops, but we forced him back in. Kain fumbled badly on the north side, even allowing the badgers to downright supply themselves from their outward camps and villages. I sent out marauders to burn them, and to give Gashan's cowardly sea scum something to do. Had I'd been in charge from the start, we would have had this mountain by now."

"You seem quite confident you can beat that badger lord, considering what he and the Green Isle usurper did to you."

"Well, that won't happen any time soon, Tarlo."

"How so?"

"Because he is dead."

Tarlo looked impressed, quickly wanting to get on his brother's good side "Ah, and how did you fell him? I must congratulate you on such victory, as it is most deserved!"

When Minto went quiet, so did Tarlo as he realized that things seemed a lot less good as it appeared. "Our 'traitor' turned out to be the badger lord's son. Killed him in the night, and failed to open the door in a subtle manner. Now, the hares collapsed the tunnels. I have slaves entering them now to clear the rubble so we can assault them properly."

"Oh. Then why is the army so close to that land then?"

"Because I want them ready the moment they remove the rocks. We have more vermin then they have arrows, and most are now bouncing onto wooden shields. They'll run out eventually."

Tarlo frowned at this and spoke up "Brother, that seems wasteful, you should pull them back at least."

"Why."

"Brother, they are our wards and soldiers, along with fellow cats. They follow us to embrace us as their leaders, not for us to throw them at our problems! You know what father says, we cannot be wasteful with our thralls. They are our responsibility."

Minto knew this line of thinking, as he chuckled out cruelly "You really still think that brother? Tarlo, you worm brained fool, these are slaves. Slaves we decide whether they live, die, or sell. They exist to serve us, as we are the superior beasts, as destined not only by blood, but by our right to rule. The whip and shackle reminds them of their place on Sandbeach, and it reminds them here as well. Do you really think they will 'learn' to like their servitude?"

Tarlo pitied his brother's thinking, and spoke with a sad sigh "Is it too hard to imagine our wise father is right? We are superior not because we hold them in bondage, but because we are their rightful rulers. It is by blood we rule, but how can we rule through fear alone? Is that not the point of our home's cruelty towards them? To prepare them to be like the serviles in the west, so that they will not raise their paws in anger at us again."

"Oh spare me, Tarlo. They will never 'learn' a thing. Their pups may learn to keep their heads low and to be silent as they work, but these vermin and woodlander alike will never be free. They all exist, even those little friends of yours, to serve us without question! Now please keep yourself dismissed as I win this war. I'd rather not give a single thought to you or father. I need to send word back of our dismal start to this war, and await his contemptible reply."

Tarlo gave a humble nod to his brother and prepared to leave, only to bump into the sea otteress who was rushing into the tent. She fumbled, trying to apologize "M-my lord! Please forgive me, I h-have a report!"

Minto looked up with a bored expression as she straightened herself out and spoke "M-my lord Minto Greeneyes, capt-captain Al'zanyan requests your presence, at the forest edge! He-he says he has a report."

Minto gave her a vicious death stare and spat, going outside his command center in silence, followed somewhat closely by a curious Tarlo and the courier in tow.
_

A wildcat in western armor, more immaculate and richly clothed, stood over a bound hare. At the edge to the forest Mossflower, the hare looked shocked to be looking up at the graying cat, an old soul with an older history. The gray cat had scars across his face and paws, and a domed helm for his head. He would occasionally look with utter disgust over the battlefield below Salamandastron. He was utterly disgusted with what he saw, as his own soldiers and fellow mercenaries looked over the mess. The vermin were pushing a number of sea otters with shovels and picks into the breach hole, but cats and vermin alike were fearfully looking up at the terraces above, a hare firing down with precision at one of them. They were no longer aiming to kill, but to injure. Al'zanyan found the tactic disgraceful, but also overly smart especially when he noticed how often the injured would be abandoned and left to their own devices. He even saw on raw, hit several times in the arm, was limping his way out of the army and back into Mossflower forest to escape his slavish masters. It worked, as the sentries themselves would not stop such a deserter who would only waste space in Minto's camp.

The hare looked on in dismay, being bound by his paws and forced to kneel. When Minto and Tarlo came over, Al'zanyan was approached first by the sea otter courier who announced Minto's presence with exhaustion "M-my lord, Minto Greeneyes is co-" Minto pushed her to the side, not fully caring for protocol as he folded his paws. The wildcat gave him a curious look, as if he was some weird foreigner himself.

"This better be good, captain."

"News, my lord, fromb the eastern parts ofb the forest." Al'zanyan spoke with a clearer accent, but it clearly bordered on something else entirely. The wildcat kicked the hare forward who looked up with defiance. Minto looked down as the captain spat out "Tellb him whatb you told me."

The hare was silent, and did not give an indication to tell the wildcat anything. A harsh kick to his back from Al'zanyan made him speak up "Bolly fine! Stop kicking me ya blighter."

Minto awaited the response as the hare spoke up, but would occasionally gaze in horror at the swarm beneath the mountain. "The army of hares who left for Tussock went into a pitched battle against the enemy, Markem Brownnose and his horde. Tussock has fallen, and so has the main army. I came bloody here to tell the news and get reinforcements."

Tarlo looked shocked "Oh. This Markem is one of ours I take it?"

Minto was silent and continued to prod "How considerable was this army. 'Tussock' as a word means nothing to me. Where was this battle, and where is this army now headed towards?"

The hare remained silent, but another harsh kick got him to speak "Bolly rotters the lot of you! We battled him at the River Moss, and bloody lost. Badly. Bloody wretch is heading to Redwall, and took much of Eastern Mossflower. 'Great Warlord' he calls himself, defeated my commander, the otter holt, and shrews."

The hare would give a defeated glance to an even more defeated sea otter, who now began to realize that victory was growing harder for Mossflower by the hour. Minto huffed as Tarlo spoke up "Markem. Odd name for a Juska."

"Because it isn't a Juska. This Markem, what species is he? Is he a far northerner?"

"No, but had some in his ranks. Bloody wolverine and all. He is a rat, in a horned helm. Jusbrag and much of the eastern vermin follow him. Several thousand strong it looked like, if not more!"

Minto scoffed at such numbers "Clearly this is a rogue force from the north, or worse. No doubt just some common vermin pillager."

"Yet, if he was able to beat these hares, and take one of their forts, they sound quite useful." Tarlo openly thought. "If this army is heading towards Redwall, no doubt this complicates matters. If this vermin warlord is not a puppet of father especially, we should perhaps extend a paw to him."

Minto rolled his eyes "I care not."

"Well, I mean should you have at least a little care Minto? If this Markem can defeat a Long Patrol army and take their forts, they have just won you closer to getting to your 'real' conquests elsewhere." Tarlo sarcastically goaded, and Minto responded in turn "If we don't have to fight him, Tarlo. Rats are ill tempered and stupid creatures, no better then those slaves we have meandering in our camp. No doubt your silvered tongue will at least convince him of reason, who will act as your 'reinforcements' of sorts."

Al'zanyan spoke up "My lord, perhapbs we shouldb sent an' envoyb to them first."

"Why? They are vermin you fool, why do we have to make sweet talk with the likes of our emperor's future slaves? No, I trust my brother's tongue to convince them otherwise. Isn't that right, Tarlo?" Minto goaded, hoping his brother would just accept and be off, get himself in trouble, and then begone from his life forever. This little plan backfired a bit as Tarlo spoke up "Certainly, but if things go wrong, would it then be prudent to not send a sizable force to match this warlord? Afterall, what worse fate could be given to a commander who willfully allows the emperor's most favored son to be slaughtered by a future slave of our dear father."

Minto hissed "Fine! You'll take three scores of vermin with you, and no more! Just get out of my blasted camp before I throw you out, my 'beloved' brother."

Tarlo smiled as Minto continued to seeth, his eyes now darted down to the prisoner as he angrily commanded his captain "Have this beast branded and put into the slave pens with the rest of its kind. Cut out its tongue for good measure, then return to the front."

Minto marched off angrily, leaving Tarlo and the wildcat captain to look over the battlefield. The hare was dragged up onto his feet and marched off to his fate by Al'zanyan's subordinates. Al'zanyan spoke to Tarlo, keeping a hushed tone. "Tarlob. Ifb you would, I wouldb like to accompanyb you. I swearb, that brother of yoursb is going to getb us killed!"

"I would be more than happy to have your aid, Al'zanyan. Gather your cats, we leave tomorrow."

---

The mountain was safe for now, although a large number of hares kept watch over the collapsed tunnels, trying to figure a way to collapse them further to buy them more time. Salgor and his friend Gambit were with these hares, with Gambit cleaning his armor in a solemn mood. He had missed out on the battle, and had been busy trying to rest from the small slashes and wounds from the previous one. The rumors were already spreading, with the hares becoming more panicked as the truth of Malgor's treachery became a flowing panic. "Bolly hell! Our lord is dead, killed by his own rotter of a son!" One hare would complain. Others tried to pretend not to listen, but it became openly clear of the effect this evil had on the hares. Salgor grunted as he sharpened his favored weapon with a stone, he held firm as he commanded hares about "Officers, silence the troops. You must focus on your tasks. Keep the gates secured and barricaded." The hares were already barricading the gates, even as the weak thud of a damaged vermin battering ram haplessly attempted to burst on through. They could hear the occasional blood curdling scream of a vermin on the other side, apparently as demoralized as the hares were as their numbers dwindled.

Biggum came up to Salgor and Gambit, looking almost ill. His movements were slower than usual, and his once calm demeanor took a sad, downward drip. "I think my hares are doing well, don't you say, wot. I do not think they need you goading them further."

Biggum could notice that Salgor did not look very happy, and to be frank, he wasn't very happy with Salgor. Even as the worst came to pass, the over glorified secretary of a badger trapped in the mountain now became a literal prison with the siege. Salgor didn't attempt to speak ill to Biggum, only asking "The tunnels to the east. Are they secure?"

"Yes, thank the seasons. It is a good thing Malgor didn't know of them, or we would be collapsing those as well. We saw several scouts of the greeneyed horde meandering in the area. They know there are tunnels there, but cannot find the entrance. They keep trying to look at the mountain, which means our tunnels are still secure at least."

Salgor knew these tunnels well, he and his father explored them. It was a series of secret tunnels and cave systems which were dug out by moles seasons past, partly by accident, and made into a secret entrance which opened up into Mossflower's eastern interior. Not many beasts knew where it was, as only Salgor, his father, and a few chosen hares such as Biggum knew exactly where the tunnels were. Salgor once found it silly that his father hid the tunnels so well, excusing it at a 'lost memory' of sorts, but now in this terrible situation, he was very glad they were secret.

"I saw him from one of the terraces. Wretched cretan is keeping an eye on us." Salgor mentioned Malgor with increasing contempt, not even bothering to speak his name. Biggum remained silent as Salgor continued. "My mother. How does she fare?"

"About as well as you suspect. Marm is in delusion, but she is snapping out of it. Malgor's betrayal is hard on them, and all of us."

"Not hard enough." Salgor gripped his grinding stone, but in his anger it broke in his paw. Biggum had been speaking in a depressed voice before, but his own anger was now boiling and trying to hold an air of authority as he spoke up to the cold badger "Dagor and your sister had quite a few things to say about you, and your little 'speech' to them. I know we are all on edge, but if you could bloody keep yourself professional Salgor, that would be far more appreciated."

Salgor turned to Biggum, squinting with anger. "I won't be lectured by you either, Biggum. Malgor's treason cannot be ignored, nor should it be hidden in any regard. It is our laws, which I've studied for many of these long years, that make it clear. Me and Gambit will go out and do it, since no one else will." Gambit nodded as he patted his iron axe. Biggum grunted in amusement at first "Pray tell, Salgor, how you are going to assail that camp? With pure grit, as you suicidally impale yourself on a spear?"

"Wells, better than waiting in here I say!" Gambit spat angrily "Those are me people out there. Once we rally them, we'll do what apparently you cannot. I'm certainly not going to wait a moment longer as they whip and lash me clansbeasts so brazenly!"

"Then you will join them, sea otter. You both will, whether as being heads on stakes or in chains. Is that what you two really want, or do I have to drill some sense into you."

"I am only waiting for the funeral to be over, Biggum. Only father could command me, out of respect I had for him. Dagor? His new found wisdom really does battle with him."

Biggum smirked "Ah. I see. All that talk of rules and regulations really is nothing more than a gilded bravado."

"Don't talk to me as if I am a hypocrite. Dagor is chosen by the mountain, that much I can see, but his respect for the rules I have spent a lifetime studying is non-existent at best. I want what is good for this mountain, hare. Look around you, all these hares are horrified that it was my brother who murdered our lord, and we just sit in this blasted mountain doing nothing. I am going to do something about it, and since clearly no one wants me in this mountain, then I am just going to go out on my own with Gambit and deliver justice in our own way. My banishment is not a matter of if, but a matter of when. If you think my good brother is going to lay down and not abuse you and me to his most petty desires, then I truly do pity you."

Biggum's anger simmered, not because of Salgor's increasing nihilism, but how far he had given up. Salgor was angry at many things, his outburst made more sense as a youngster who could not come to grips with what was happening. Biggum was infuriated with himself, having not caught such designs. He spoke up with a more pitied speech at the two warriors.

"Salgor, your brother does not hold the contempt for you as you think he does. Our loyalty to the forest, this mountain, and our duty to protect good creatures must endure. Think for a moment, what do you think trying to go out on your own will accomplish? If you get killed or captured, then we will truly be lost. Gambit, do you think your people will rise up when they see you dragged in chains to a chopping block? Do you think Malgor in his treacherous mood will let you touch him as the waves of vermin crash down on you, Salgor? Blighters they all are outside, we cannot let fury and hate cloud our judgement. We can only succeed against this enemy if we are vigilant. Otherwise, you two will end up a lot like Barfoof and his hares, which I do not think you both are."

Salgor stopped and looked paralyzed for a moment, thinking it over. Gambit let out a big sigh and spoke "I hate to say it, yer right. Yet I doubt we are too popular regardless. I cannot in good conscious sit here an' let me people out there suffer."

"Neither can I." Biggum nodded "Yet endure we must for their sake. We cannot free them from that torture those vermin scoundrals subject them to if we are dead."

"You are right, Biggum. I apologize." Salgor finally said with a defeated grunt "I'm to observe father's funeral, but Dagor made it very clear I will be silent in it. I am more than aware I am despised by most here, and I get that. I really do. I want to be out of here as well, but I also want to help. Malgor's crimes can never be forgiven, and I will be sure he knows that when I catch him. He nearly had me killed, and now sides with our vile enemy. Our rules and laws are all I have truly. I can recite every regulation regarding uniforms and salutes, but what use is that if Dagor is going to just throw it all out?"

Biggum nodded "I understand your concerns, and your troubles more than you know. Now please, get into something more comfortable and come with me. Dagor wishes to say his goodbyes to our lord."
_

It had been but a moment as Dagor closed his eyes and began to dream, his mind filled with images and knowledge he had a hard time understanding. He would pass by, seeing all that had happened in the war with Kasg the Craven. He felt himself at the edge of battle, rushing against Gandal Blackfur and his armies at the foot of Salamandastron. The comforting and joyful voice of Cato rung next to him, but yet felt so distant. In a moment he felt he was flung to another place at another time. He saw images of warriors of Redwall, past and historical. He saw Jue and his friends, young at the time of their journey passing through the forests of Mossflower, speaking to themselves as good friends. He saw Matthias the Warrior in another place, aided by Orlando the Axe as they hunted an evil slaver across the eastern plains. All of this, the past, the present, and future flowed into him more and more. He could even see the enemy, its armies already marching on Redwall.

Yet he paused, as his images and visions became silent and stopped at an odd grove. The voices and visions became muffled and soundless, as the forests of Mossflower blackened around him. His final vision confused him as three figures emerged from the past, not even noticing the warrior badger. It was a rat in chainmail armor, a hare's sword to his side and a shield to his back. In a muffled voice he called out "Will ya hurry up 'Dirt' an' 'Mud'! I ain't gots all day ya know!"

Dagor looked to see two younger otters, carrying things on their backs. Both wore rags, and were only slightly smaller than the rat, but still of decent age. The bigger one kicked a rock in a angry boredom as they marched past Dagor's ghostly form. Dagor was confused, as the younger otter spoke up "Jan, the hell are we going anyway?"

"Back north it feels like. Back north."

The figures became shadows as they disappeared beyond the forest lines. Dagor did not understand this vision or its purpose, and yet it felt like he should know. The land beneath him became red and burnt, and the sky a crimson hue. From the forest trees of this blackened forest, a massive foe appeared. It was a being cloaked in a blood red robe, reaching down towards Dagor. He was frightened of it, but did not back away. He tried to raise his axe against it, but when it grabbed onto him, the vision changed yet again.

This time, Dagor found himself bound in twisting wires which held him tight as he found himself elsewhere in the world, being flung from side to side, all the way to some island in the western sea. He was flung ever forward to a throne where a smaller evil laid dormant on the throne, chuckling in amusement. Bound, Dagor could see his court, filled with all manner of vermin worshipping it, their eyes covered in mists. Others scurried away in fear of the profane being who sat upon a throne which converted its stone into bone and fire. In that moment, Dagor found himself awake once more.

The badger lord could not understand, his wisdom felt drained and he felt almost naked now. He rested in his own room before the funeral, and he felt like he should know something. Something important. It was too important for him to miss, like a forewarning which he did not fully understand. His knowing had left him utterly, not even able to recall a single ounce of the power of the mountain had clearly given to him. Instead, he felt a sudden hopelessness and a throbbing pain in his mind. His only memory had been of a crimson figure, cloaked in shadow, upon a throne of bone and fire. Only vague memories returned him of the strange visions he had, but did not understand them.

"Dagor? Are you okay in there?" Came Nazla's voice from beyond his door. Dagor refused to sleep in the room where his father was slain, at least for now as he opened the door to see a saddened looking little sister looking back up at him. She was well dressed, and Dagor was not. She commented on this immediately "Even that rotten old mountain of a brother is more ready then you look, Dagor."

"Oh. I didn't even think he would be ready at all to be honest." Dagor snidely remarked. Nazla rolled her eyes in frustrated agreement "He really does tend to crumble easy I suppose. Kind of wish you'd just boot him from the mountain at times. Mean old stripe dog when he wants to be."

"He is on edge, Nazla. We all are."

"I ain't forgiving what he said to me. Especially in front of. . ." Nazla paused, immediately frowning at what they were going to do today. Dagor patted her in comfort. "You must be strong Nazla, for him and mother both. Salgor can be a real brick wall of a brother, but he is still our brother."

"So was Malgor."

Dagor frowned at this, wondering if Nazla's would have preferred Salgor had been the true traitor and not his wayward brother. "He is still loyal, and he can be brave when he wants to be. Just try not to jip him would you? Especially not today. Or in front of mom."

Nazla nodded in agreement "I suppose I can, but it's on him not to say anything."

"I won't"

Nazla and Dagor looked to see Salgor putting on a more comfortable tunic, and buttoning it up. Salgor still carried his claymore to his back in a ceremonial gesture rather than a warrior one. Nazla gave him a vicious look as Salgor tightened his belt. "Are we ready, my lord."

Dagor gave an amused huff "Finally come to your senses then?"

Salgor didn't respond at first, giving his brother that stoney expression he was known for. Dagor could realize that his brother was trying at least, and felt embarrassed in trying to goad him to react further. "I apologize. I do not mean to cause trouble on this day, Salgor."

"No need to apologize to this wall of bad words, Dagor." Nazla huffed. Salgor gave her his own vicious look, wanting to say something but held his mouth shut. He was truly trying to endure as Dagor made his first command. "Nazla, go on ahead of us, if you would. We'll be down shortly." Nazla went off as Salgor continued to look at her with contempt. He returned his attention to Dagor as the new badger lord made his dues "They will coronate me during the funeral. Biggum says it will improve morale if I give a big speech."

"It will, although we will lose it regardless if things continue to go downhill." Salgor sighed. Dagor tried to comfort his brother "Salgor, I know you don't got much trust in me, and I think you have a nail deep in every blasted paw you got, but we are still brothers. I am not going to try to stop you if you leave an-"

"I am sad to inform you that Biggum convinced me to stay."

"Oh. Good. I was hoping he would."

Salgor kind of figured "I am here to keep to our laws, but I cannot avenge our father by being angry at you. I do not envy your position, and I will not ask anything of it. For our father I will do what is needed to destroy this enemy, and drive them from our shores."

"And you will, Salgor." Dagor tried to give his brother a comforting smile, although it was only returned with a cold gaze. Salgor took a humble bow and left for the lower chambers, leaving Dagor to put on something more formal. Dagor wondered if his brother would be different if he was seeing and experiencing the things he was now seeing, but a throbbing pain to his head restarted him back to reality as he prepared to bury his father.
_

The funeral of Galgor Ironpaw was a silent affair for the most part, the badger family carried the body on a stretcher of flowers to the lower tombs of the badger lords of old. Buried in the stone in dimly lit crypts and tombs were the badgers and their families of ancient dynasties, prestigious and powerful in their day. The bore names and surnames of legend, and the tomb of Galgor would be no different. A procession of hares followed, led by Biggum and Adam who kept a silent vigil. Narsa kept a sad watch over the tomb as Salgor and Dagor lowered their father one last time into a great stone crypt, both paying their respects in a hushed tone. The name of Malgor was not brought up, as Nazla and Narsa cried once the final stone was rolled over the grave, forever immortalizing Galgor's face carved into the stone as a warrior. Hares and officers made their final respects, with Biggum making the most sorrowful of speeches. In the years he had fought alongside the badger lord against the likes of Kasg and on the open sea against this most evil enemy, it was Malgor's humiliating treachery which put the warrior king down.

Yet that day's activities were not done, as the procession was joined by the common hares, soldiers, and their families who marched down further towards the fresh water reservoir which could hold a grand meeting. Dagor stood in the middle at the water's edge, illuminating the cave with a great show of torch light. Dagor had paused, for the first time a little embarrassed despite his rehearsal. He wanted to make an epic and thunderous speech, but choked out words. They were no longer just fighting an enemy that came to their shores from the west, but an evil that was now an existential threat to their way of life. They had come to pillage and burn, to enslave and torture. Even his own brother was now counted amongst their number, and Dagor spoke up against his own preparations.

"I had a speech for all of you. A speech which I can only tell you would have been a lie, a forgery! I would have told you it would all be okay, that our enemy can be beaten. I will not lie to you, for I have seen many things and victory is not certain. Yet we shall endure. We shall endure this enemy like any other that has dared come to our shores! They can have that blasted beach, but they will pay for it in blood! I will not tell you that this will be an easy fight, for our enemy surges from the vile west and east alike! We will endure the vermin foe, as we have always done, but more so! Let them unleash their armies on our walls, and march through our forests and we shall meet them in kind with sword and spear! We will outsmart them as we have always done! We will drive them back into their sea, as we have always done! My hares, Long Patrol, as the mountain chooses me to lead this land, I shall promise you vengeance on this enemy, and we will endure! Eulalia!" There was thunderous applause and shouts from the gathered hares, a surge of optimism filled them as Dagor lifted his battleaxe into the air. Biggum may not have bought into such things, but his heart warmed as he saw his fellow hares ready for action, as Dagor had taken up his mantle in kind. One lord had been buried, and another arose just as quickly.

Yet one hare in particular did not join this procession, for he was elsewhere. Doufy von Evergreen affixed his beret and was making his way down the empty corridors, going to fix something he really wanted to fix. He passed several guards who saluted him, and he only lightly saluted back as he went down and down towards the holding cells of Salamandastron.

As Doufy rounded a few corners, he ran into a figure he already had suspected to meandering about. The squirrel Dacks bumped his nose into Doufy's chest and nursed it. Doufy chuckled in surprise "I half suspected you to be here, ol' bean. How is Barfoof doing?"

Dacks shrugged as he shook himself "Well, a bit better Doufy. Although he isn't exactly happy, especially with what happened outside."

Doufy's forced smile faded a bit into a more serious tone. He knew Barfoof would be unhappy with the defeat outside. Barfoof had remained in a cell meant for vermin prisoners, a fact not lost on anyone. Although this was meant for him to cool off, Doufy thought this gave ammunition to an already troubled hare. Dacks spoke up in a sad tone, which Doufy eagerly listened to "He hasn't been much the same since he heard what happened to the badger lord, though. In fact, he's kind of been very silent. Even towards me."

"No matter his opinions, he is still a Long Patrol officer. I would expect nothing less."

Dacks nodded, although Doufy could tell he was hiding something, especially as he looked a bit shamefully at the ground. Doufy didn't want to pry Dacks any further, as he felt a bit awkward trying to pry information from him. Doufy asked only one question "By chance, is Cemar here, wot?"

"Oh. Yes. He was bringing us food down here, I think he's still here actually."

Doufy nodded and dismissed Dacks with a salute, who saluted back. Doufy went further into the darkness and dimly lit rooms till he saw one cell which was shining a small light from a torch. He could recognize Cemar immediately by his own beret, still wearing his light armor and jacket over top of it. He was sitting on the floor, eating slowly to a scone. He looked to see Doufy, giving him a curious look. "Doufy? Shouldn't you be at the bolly funeral?"

"Shouldn't you?" Doufy had said playfully to his old friend. Cemar gave a weak smile to his fellow commando and took another bite of his scone. A voice in the cell called out "What do you want, you rotter." Doufy sighed and came over, seeing Barfoof resting his back and sitting at a stone wall close by to Cemar. Separated only by iron bars which looked to be rusting from age, Barfoof gave an annoyed look to Doufy.

"Sar, no reason to be calling fellow hares rotters at a time like this."

Barfoof spoke, but it sounded like he was keeping in a lot of personal spite "I heard a good number of hares died in that suicide charge, followed by executions from the cats outside. Had Biggum been a bloody vermin, Doufy, I would have every right to call him a rotted buffoon with the creativity of a frog. He and Galgor-" Barfoof stopped himself, his normal anger seemed to slide to a lull of depression. "I apologize, wot. I forget today was the day they were burying him."

Doufy nodded "I know. Biggum I heard gave you leave to give witness to it, but you declined."

"Even I thought it inappropriate after my bolly outburst. His death is tragic, no doubt. You hear a lot of things for a secretary to Biggum, any reason why Malgor snapped like that? Mountain madness perhaps?"

Cemar listened in closely, stopping his eating as he listened closely. If there ever was one well informed hare, it was Doufy. "Sadly no, Malgor is a traitor through and through. Salgor saw him meld into the vermin breach yesterday, and opened the bloody door for them. Not much good it did them however. Now we got a lot of vermin at our gates, trying to push on in."

Cemar spoke up "How's it looking out there, truly Doufy?"

"About as well as you both suspect. Cats and pirates are all over the beach, we collapsed on tunnel to the north, and they are moving towards the forests. I think the villagers got the clue quickly, and i've seen less and less successful raids from the top of things. Our own villages suffered, but we got most of the families in the north through. I think you saw the Stag Hare patriarch if I am not mistaken Cemar."

"Bolly ol' wretch nearly bonked my head for not standing up straight, wot!" Cemar complained. Doufy nodded in agreement "As for the rest of Mossflower, we don't know much. So long as the Juska continue to be docile and Naus defeats this 'Markem' in good time, we will be in a much better position."

"Better position." Doufy seethed "We wouldn't be in this position at all if Biggum didn't ignore me. We needed armies, not just us, defending this land. Now an enemy army is at our gates, and all we can do is hope they don't get inside."

"I agree, which is why Biggum and I are giving you a little offer Barfoof."

Barfoof raised an eyebrow as Doufy explained "You can either sit this one out, or get out of this bolly cell. In turn for regrouping with Biggum's command, you can have your old position back and your hares. You were a skilled commander before, and still are good sar. If we are going to win this fight, we will ultimately need you regardless. You can say you were right about a few things, and Biggum is willing to listen to more of your advice, under the condition you continue to not to do something we will all come to regret."

Doufy spat "To hell with you and your master, Doufy. I am bolly done with these games. Biggum knew full well that a sally forth onto that beach was a terrible idea, when we should have used our advantage to spread out over Mossflower, ambushing the main vermin warbands and met with Naus."

"Rants like that is why Biggum is giving you the opportunity at all, wot."

"And if I refuse?"

"You can remain in this cell, and get asked after this bolly war why you remained locked up down here rather than helping fight the enemy on our beach." Doufy smirked. Barfoof gave him a cautious look, thinking it over in his head. Barfoof relented and stood up, dusting off his uniform. "Fine. Tell Biggum we will meet after the funeral, I wish to pay my own respects to Galgor, then we can plan out our campaign to save Mossflower."

Doufy nodded and saluted, before heading back upwards. Cemar joined him shortly there after, asking in a curious voice "Doufy, did Biggum really give that kind of deal to Barfoof. If I may bloody well ask."

"Oh yes, some arm twisting here, a few half truths there, and a pinch of bloody tongue twisting and you can do a lot of things, Cemar! Now go and get your gear, Biggum and I have a plan to get back at those bolly ol' idiots meandering on our beach."

---

Night had passed over the vermin encampment outside the mountain, with frustrations growing in general. Minto had sent out raiders to pillage local villages, but when an increasing number of villages came up as empty, he realized a bit late what was happening. The villagers, directed by Long Patrol outside the mountain, were burning crops and houses, directing the villagers towards inner Mossflower where the thick forests and established garrison could protect them. Even the vermin proved resilient, as Minto was informed of an increasing resistance to his slavers. Small vermin bands and bandits who had seen their own families dragged away to be conscripted into the wildcat army were making daring ambushes on the cats as they tried to look for their holes. There wasn't a large horde in western Mossflower, especially so close to the mountain itself and the home of the Long Patrol, yet a couple of chieftains and warchiefs were forming up a resistance. This resistance however became little more than a distraction as it fell apart against the full onslaught of the greeneyed horde.

A couple common vermin were no problem to ambush and kill, a couple pirates floundered in trying to raid further inland which was what many of these Mossflower vermin bandits faced. Once wildcats from both Sandbeach and the west started to join their numbers, the butchery was insurmountable. Most cats were well trained soldiers, and could quickly dispatch the bandits without much fuss, often most found themselves being playfully captured and dragged back to Minto's camp to fight in his armies. Yet this distraction in fighting vermin proved to be a trouble to the greeneyed horde as the Long Patrol cut off any more potential supplies and slaves from flowing into Minto's paws.

In the camp itself, Canton Wildlough got to get a full taste of the hospitality of the wildcat vermin and observed their customs, cruel and unusual alike. Under Sagan's very watchful eye, Canton was put to work in the camp as a common laborer while Tarlo and Minto argued with one another. Once done, exhausted and bearing a few new whip scars across his back, the princeling was allowed to finally get some rest. He found himself in a large tent, tied to an inner pole with his paws tied behind his back. As he sat there, angrily seething at himself and the enemy around him, he was joined eventually by a familiar and sad figure.

Morland had come into the tent with some crumbly bread dipped into a bowl of stew. Morland looked depressed as he sat in a farther corner, eating slowly.

"You."

Morland looked up with attention at Canton who looked ever more desperate "Yes. You." He said in a hushed tone. "You need to untie my bonds. Quickly! I heard that fox they plan to take us inland with a blasted army! You have to help me get out of here! Morland is it? Please, you have to get me out of here."

Morland didn't move, only giving the prince a pained look. The two heard the flap of the tent open, both expecting to see one of their tormentors come through, only to see Gapper with his own stew. "Good! You can help me at least! Please, we all have to get out of here!" Canton looked almost happy to see Gapper, but when the sea otter took his position and awkwardly began to eat his soup in peace, Canton grew angry.

"Hello? Do you both hear me!? As prince of Green Isle, I command you to untie my bonds!"

Gapper and Morland looked at one another, unsure of what to say. Gapper continued to eat, although he was now less grim then had been before. Morland joined in trying to ignore Canton as the sea otter prince angrily raised his voice beyond a hushed tone. "You two cowards! Release me at once! Please!"

"W-we can't." Morland spoke up in a weak voice, finally answering Canton. The sea otter princeling gritted his teeth in anger "Why not!? You may have given up to those whiskered devils, but I won't! Now have some bravery for once in your miserable life and free me at once!"

Gapper spoke up in turn, unable to face Canton "We can't. If we do, they will kill us."

"They will kill you anyway!" Canton nearly yelled out, but kept his hushed tone, tears began to fall from his eyes "You have to free me, before it's too late! I can't stand this any longer! Please!"

"Neither could we." Morland said in a depressed tone. Canton looked wide eyed in fear at them, turning head side to side. Was this what they wanted to turn us into?! Mindless thralls?! Seasons, spare me! "You are otters of Green Isle! We faced them in bravery before, you cannot just ignore it now! Have dignity and free me, and we can escape together!"

Gapper could see Canton was now bordering on delusion, growing more and more desperate to escape his predicament. He sympathized in his heart, but he showed only a cold and defeated stare at him. Canton was begging for something, to release him either from the bonds or to grant him the mercy of death. Yet, to free him meant punishment even more severe on him and on Morland. Gapper couldn't stand it, getting up with his bowl to go outside. Canton angrily yelled out at him, no longer caring if anyone could hear "Help me damn you! Help me! Please!"

Morland pitied Canton, and yet felt a slight pride that he still held onto hope. Yet, it was desperation in his eyes which revealed to him how false that hope was. It was not a matter if, but when, he broke into something more like him. Morland got up as well, joining Gapper outside as Canton began to weep and kick in anger. He ranted and raved, begging for them to return and help him, but the two servants were now eating outside, unable to face Canton.

"How long do you think it will take?" Morland asked Gapper, who was trying to finish his meal in some relative peace.

"For what?"

"For him to become a lot like us?"

Gapper gave Morland a sad and defeated look, taking another bite of the meal he had once hated to eat when he was first captured by Barbo. He answered truthfully, hoping that Morland would just accept his place and be quiet, for all of their sakes.

"It took three months for me. I give it less."
_

Tarlo was tired, and he was heading to his own pavilion to turn in for the night. He was joined by Barbo and Sagan who looked around them at the camp as Barbo was making his own mental notes. His friends were smart, but not as smart as he was when it came to the layout of this camp. Barbo found it odd in fact, having grown up in the western cities of the cats, and yet what he saw looked like some staged production in mockery of a real war camp. He noted how many of the newer reinforcements felt similar to him, confused and even dumbfounded at the depravity they saw in Minto's siege. This culminated in a little event as the group passed by one cat arguing with another, both looking as different from night and day, with a shrew slave awkwardly awaiting some fate beneath them.

"This is absurd! You cannot just command me what to do, you sand grained idiot! I am a warrior of this camp, just as much as you are!" Answered one cat in a green cape. He looked to be an officer, although of what sorts Barbo was not certain. He wore scaled armor much like many other western cats did, with a curved sword to his belt and a whip in the other. Yet his opponent was just different in every way. He was a gray cat most certainly, with longer ears. He wore a turban of silken red, and although he had a smaller sword, a quiver was to his back and he rested a paw on a bow. He wore no cape, and looked far more professional, dressed more for a hot summer sun than the other.

"Youb dare! I askebed diz slave tob bring meb food, and you beat it?! Thenb when it praysb an' askz for mercyb, you beat it more?! Youb shoulb pray forb forgiveness fromb the almighty aboveb! I willb not standb for suchb barbarisbem."

Tarlo came forward, seeing the trouble and tried to calm the situation "My good cats, we have an enemy at the gate, not amongst us here." Tarlo sounded tired and done for the day, but even then he pushed on through "Please, explain to me this trouble."

"This blasted slavebeast ignored its duties when given an order, and I was dealing out punishment. Then this beast comes over, yelling at me for doing so! Then he has the gall to ask me to make my amends." The cat grunted. The other one came dangerously close to him, which made him go back a little in fear. "Youb wouldb be flogged back homez for such insolence."

Sagan whispered to Barbo, unsure what even the trouble was as the three cats talked it out. "Okay, I gotta ask. What up wit dem foreign cats anyhow? Ya know em' a lot better then I do."

"Oh, simple my good fox. Have you ever read the 'Mirror of Anden Kulch'? A Reich tale I think your surgeon and engineer would know, but I've read. Tis a tale you see of a beast who is taken to a world of mirrors, and when he thinks he is home he finds himself in a world of strange things. Like a world where it is the weasels of his land having no tails, and the rest of the beasts do. Or where peasants pretend to be lords, and the lords tend the land like serfs. Money is worthless, but bark is of great value. It is mockery, a spoof you may even call it."

"Okay, but what dat gotta do wit anythin?"

"You see, to these foreign cats and even myself, this is a mirror world of sorts. Back in the west, it is true that many of the woodlander beasts are slaves, but not in the same cruelty and malice these folk put here. It's quite a culture shock that it is the sons of criminals and refugees who command them of higher authority, when back home they would be much the same as those vermin with brands on their cheeks. It is strange to them that they look like them, wear their garb, and fight as they do but yet there is no priest, no call to prayer even."

"Huh. Dey treat workbeasts a lot better out west?"

"Better is a weird term I would use to describe it."

Tarlo was eventually done as the officer huffed and marched off. The shrew looked a bit more thankful as he was limping off with the foreign cat who didn't really look happy himself. Tarlo came back to Barbo and Sagan, giving a sigh of relief.

"It is a good thing my brother sleeps, or he would be executing half of these poor creatures in the camp."

"What was that even about, anyway?" Sagan asked in curiosity.

"A misunderstanding. The shrew had been given two sets of orders from two cats he was told to obey. The officer wanted one of his rations served to him, but the other had but asked him for him to bring him food. The slowed response got the officer angry and only started to punish the shrew, but the foreigner intervened. I convinced them it was all just a simple misunderstanding. The foreign cat said he would take the shrew as a camp slave for his division, which I allowed. The officer I told off for his over reaction, but he won't do anything that bothers my brother too much."

"Odd combo, I thought ya cats were thicker den blood."

"Far from it, Sagan. If anything, most of my father's cats despise the western ones, and vice versa. I know most of the families on Sandbeach, most are descendents of refugees from the west escaping their former lives there to live amongst the kingdom my father promises to them. Most of the cats from the west in this camp are from my father's favored benefactors, being quite spiritual in a sense. I won't be surprised to see a camp priest here some time soon, especially if incidents like this keep happening."

"Wells, we'll be far from dat before we get preached at."

"Agreed, now please excuse me, I must be off to bed before I have troubles. Tomorrow we march out to Redwall, and we must all be ready to march."

The three nodded. Tarlo went his own way, but Barbo and Sagan went another. Barbo continued to peer around, seeing some familiar faces which he ducked his turban a bit low so they wouldn't fully notice him. Others he was surprised to find, as cats in various armors and styles of silk could be found resting in the war camp. Although a large host of vermin still were at the base of the mountain, the horde intermingled more healthily in the night when the captains of Sandbeach did not watch. Barbo noticed vermin who would normally be cowering from one group of cats, was playing friendly games with another. One weasel was showing a foreign cat how to gamble for vittles with a pair of bone dice, while another he noticed was showing a curious fox the way they prayed in the west. Hymns of praise mixed in with vermin shanties across the camp in mostly hushed tones, as to not wake their masters who slept peacefully.

Barbo and Sagan were making their way towards their own tents being set up by their crews. As they passed towards the farther end of the camp, Barbo was humming to himself. Sagan gave Barbo a playful tap "I hope ya ain't humming some blasted ol' hymn of dem whiskered brutes, aye?"

"I've never been particularly religious, my good Sagan. Yet, belief I still had drilled into me. If there one thing I take with love into my heart was the culture and song of such dry lands. Had they been more friendly, perhaps I may even have stayed to tell the truth."

"I'm certain ya would, too bad dey gonna do to Mossflower what dey did in der own lands, eh?"

"Maybe. Yet, Perhaps not. Does it truly matter if our stories will be told no matter who wins?"

Sagan chuckled, but then stopped. Barbo stopped when Sagan peered out towards one tent in particular, a large green tent near the shores. It was odd, while many tents were surrounded by torch fire and resting vermin, this tent was not. Barbo informed his friend "I believe that is Minto's tent, the pretend conqueror of a pretend army. Quite nice, is it not?"

"Aye, but why no guard?"

Barbo noticed this soon as well, as despite nearly every important area having tripled in guard since Minto's arrival, being organized to keep enemies away from such places, Minto's tent was suspiciously dark and empty. Sagan and Barbo gave each other an adventurous look and went forward.

In the tent, Minto was sleeping soundly, having just eaten his meal. He was having a dreamless sleep when he felt himself being pulled back to being awake when he heard the flap of his tent open. He peered into the darkness, and saw nothing, which then concerned him. The angry cat was supposed to have a torch on the outside of his tent, but he saw no light. He then saw the shadowy silhouette of a figure in another cat in the room, wielding a dagger and getting ready to strike.

Minto blasted from his bed in rage, but his assassin he quickly figured was wearing armor. Minto clawed for his life as the assassin tried to bring his dagger down on him, but it didn't do much as Minto kept up his pressure. He tried to call out, but the assassin made his way to his throat, trying to choke him out. The assassin was clearly professional, and was even bringing Minto over to his bed. The cat tried to reach for anything to signal for help, but the assassin manipulated him over towards a section of the tent where it was difficult for Minto to reach for anything. The dagger came over closer as Minto struggled for dear life.

Then light rushed into the room.

The assassin, a graying foreign cat, looked horrified as he saw Barbo Senger with his massive scimitar extended towards him. Barbo skewered the assassin, forcing him to let go of Minto who fell to the ground, coughing and gagging. The assassin couldn't even grip his wound before Barbo lopped off his head with a single expert swing. The stout looked over his kill with a smile, but then frowned in disappointment.

"Hmph. Not my cleanest cut I would say the least."