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.

35. Rewards of Trust

Chapter 34: Rewards of Trust

It was mid morning in southern Mossflower, as Eskert and his posse of fellow beasts were on the move, with an air of enthusiasm about them. Loy, who had been injured in his fight against the frogs was practically hopping in step with the mouse whose mood brightened with each marching step. Pelo walked alongside him as well, listening to the mouse as he hummed out a sweet tune into the midmorning air, for he had spent much of the evening in spiritual delight. "As my dreams do not deceive me, for the spirit of Redwall Abbey is with us itself! It could not have been a better day than today! Come on Lufan! We must not delay any further than we must!"

Of all the creatures who wasn't happy in Eskert's sudden and powerful aura of new found authority, it was Lufan. The hedgehog was shouldering a backpack from far behind, looking at Eskert as if he was absurd. More accurately, perhaps, was that Lufan looked at his old friend with fear. Eskert had awoken to a cheerful mood, and was quick to tell his companions of his dream. Their excitement for this vision was not shared by the tired and damaged beasts at first, but Eskert's sudden happy mood was bursting with newfound religiosity. Nearly everyone knew the tales of Redwall, and although the group had been skeptical at first, Eskert's belief in them had been more and more convincing as the group traveled. "We must head south, and swiftly! Friends with pikes and swords will greet us, I am more then certain! The enemies of Mossflower will be banished, and we shall aid them as we can!"

"Who do you think they are? Long Patrol?" Pelo asked curiously.

"I am no certain, but they will be there I promise you." Eskert's smile was contagious. Lufan could see his friend was in complete awe of his new found role in life. Yet there was one thing that gnawed at his mind, something which Eskert kept repeating and mentioning, which did not sit right with him.

"You sure that is what he said, that we will kill all the enemies of Mossflower? Drive them out entirely?" Loy asked in a weak voice. He wasn't sick, but his injuries were catching up to him. He used a stick to walk at a pace, and Eskert answered him. "I am more than certain, the spirit of Martin himself came to me. Just like the stories of old. Mice in strange dreams, like the ones I used to tell my own kids. Just as Mattias drove out the likes of Cluny, so shall I drive out the likes of Nurf and Gandal. To our side will be a mysterious force which shall aid us! We will kill them all."

Kill them all? Lufan found the words disturbing. He did not doubt Eskert's dreaming, but he found some strength to speak up. "Eskert, when the spirit had said 'kill them all', what exactly did it mean by that?"

Eskert's mood suddenly changed, as he gave a less then friendly look at Lufan. The stare gave the hedgehog a shiver "Whatever do you mean, Lufan? Not thinking of sparing the likes of this Gandal or Nurf are you?"

"No, of course not, I only meant to-"

"The spirit had made it clear what we must do." Eskert gave a pained smile, although he looked clearly annoyed with Lufan. Lufan was having some doubts, where Eskert had once been at least regretful before that night, now he was zealous to what he did. In fact, Lufan was certain he was even proud of his blatant murder, as if he did the world a favor. This sounded like no spirit he ever heard of, and as Eskert turned to his oblivious companions, Lufan felt left out of their general conversation.

"You think the spirit of Redwall is with us? Best news I could have hoped for!" Loy cheerfully and proudly said. "We have a long march ahead of us, and we cannot meander for long. The spirit directed us south, and we will do so in due course! Lufan! Please, hurry up! We cannot stop for long, and we have too little time to spare as it is!"

Eskert was growing less patient with the hedgehog behind him, but as a friend and his companion sworn to help avenge his lost family he would at least tolerate him. Eskert's mind was jumbled with thoughts, his plans and looking for details. It was strange; perhaps a vision of the vermin he killed appeared to him, begging him to stay. Perhaps it had been an evil spirit, but then it would imply vermin had souls to start with. The red eyes of Martin were also a mystery, but they were clearly a spiritual fire which burned against the tyranny and evil the vermin exposed. Kill them all. That is what Eskert would do, he would do to them what was done to him. Their humiliations would be repaid in blood, and he would make sure of it. Lufan came up close, looking for holes in his argument with his own questions.

"I do not doubt you Eskert, but it is mighty strange your dream. Did Martin give you a clue to where his sword was? What about the current warrior, Jue?"

Eskert had to think on that one a bit, but then spoke up "I am certain that Jue the Warrior, a hero in the war against Kasg would give up his blade to me to continue its legendary legacy! What great quest ever started with the spirit giving us such an answer to where the sword is? We must delve for clues from our allies, and trust that we will get to it."

"Eskert, if I may ask." Lufan said a bit weakly, unsure if he wanted to say it "You say we should kill them all. You only mean Gandal and Nurf right?"

Loy this time spoke up "Lufan, all vermin are tied together, no matter how much they hate one another. Martin drove the vermin from Mossflower, and so did all the others. Would be good for us all if they didn't return."

"But all of them though?"

"They are all evil, every last rotten one of them." Loy attempted to sound informative "Murderers in one time, and slaving tyrant the other. Murdered me parents, and kept me in chains and gave me nothing but threats of death every waking moment there. My back still hurts from all the lashes they so freely give! From pups to elders, each one is worse in their own little way. Would do the world a favor being rid of them."

Pelo nodded in agreement "Murderers indeed, torturers by trade and mad creatures by night. Nurf twisted my flesh, and I can think of nothing but ill towards creatures like him. Never known a fox to ever be kind or honorable." Pelo tried to not remember what Nurf and his hordebeasts did to him and his siblings. Being the only survivor had been weighing on him when some form of peace returned to the group. Lufan kept quiet, much to Eskert's delight.

"Its not like we are saying we gotta kill their pups or anything." Loy quickly retorted "They should just live elsewhere which isn't Mossflower. We ain't like them, and never will be."

Eskert kept oddly silent to this, much to Lufan's dismay. He feared that even something so reasonable in agreement with him was a disagreement in the worst of ways. Eskert eventually returned to a decent mood and continued to hum. He was marching ever forward at a faster pace, and grew ever more confident with each step he took.
_

Borbon Rocklore had many friends in the world, but if there was one friend and companion he had missed the most it was Lorgar. Even as Borbon angrily stode ever southward towards the highlands and forests, his mind often returned to his first meeting with the river otter. He had been captured, trying to track down the hated and genocidal Gandal who had crushed his colony, only to be captured by him. He met Lorgar who was in a cage with him, being dragged northward towards Kasg's evil camp. Gandal demanded they swear onto the hated foe, to bend their knee to the black cladded horde, and to serve faithfully as Kasg's slaves. Borbon smiled at this memory especially, for he and Lorgar both had spat right into Gandal's face and the rat demanded their deaths in turn. They escaped and fought Kasg and Gandal, their minions and vermin, together as a force to be reckoned with. The sorrow he felt for his lost colony was shined over by Lorgar's general friendliness and warrior nature. Yet an angry shadow returned to Borbon's mind of late. It was humiliating to him that Gandal still drew breath and his most hated foe had not only escaped justice, but even fulfilled his dark promise to kill Lorgar. Now even his wife and son were missing, assumed to be dead.

Borbon grinded his teeth within his mouth, furious more at the Long Patrol then at Gandal.

Borbon could never forgive Gandal, but as far as he was concerned, the hares dragged their feet. Every moment they didn't seek to kill Gandal and instead meandered in their mountain or patrolled the north gave Gandal every opportunity to grow in size. Now, Gandal could openly raid the south, regrow his horde to a proper size, and even build a fort for which he kept fellow woodlanders in chains. The Long Patrol fought him for sure, but each time he escaped, and each time he grew more frustrated. He couldn't win a war if his own allies kept abandoning the field and letting the enemy escape unharmed.

"Oi! Burbon! Wuit up!" Shouted Siegfried. The mole was shouldering his crossbow and was trying to keep up to the purpose bound warrior. His hammer in his paw, Borbon could barely give the time of day to let his friend stop. Siegfried kept falling behind, having a harder time catching up to him.

"Dus frund of yers. He close, riught?"

"Aye. He ius."

Siegfried didn't like this answer, as Borbon didn't even turn to face him or give him any form of information. He tried to speak up with a huffed breath, trying to goad his old friend for information at least "Wulls, who ius it dun? I dun usually waulk all dus way ya knuw. Tus bad on me feut, an' evun wurse in armur! Speciully wit me crussbow."

There was a disturbing pause as Borbon continued to march on, and Siegfried gave a frown. Borbon didn't answer, as if ignoring Siegfried as he continued to march off into the forest, annoyed that his companion kept falling behind. Even at times, Siegfried would lose sight of him in the highland forests and tall trees, but he kept up his pace regardless. The dry weather made him miserable, but it gave a dark purpose to Borbon who no longer seemed to mind it as much.

Siegfried got his answer only when Borbon stopped at an abandoned camping spot. How Siegfried knew was easy enough, the ground was sweeped away, some embers of a dead fire in the middle of a small dug out pit, and some fish bones and other trash was scattered about. Borbon was looking around, and turned to Siegfried "Yuos knuw how to trauck riught?"

"I duo, though dun knuw what use asks me tu fiund. Maybue if yuo tuld me, tus be easier sauid den dun!" Siegfried raised his voice, becoming increasingly annoyed with the chilled look of Borbon. The mole warrior sighed out, partly realizing his anger had gotten the better of him.

"Old frund of mine, anuter utter. He an' hus crew live duwn here. Yuos prubably seen em befer. Big ol' watur devul he is, he an' Lugar used to fish on der coast. Hulped me out of a bind, gettun me little un to Redwull."

"Oh." Siegfried nodded as he looked around for tracks. He could see some partly swept tracks leading northward, as Borbon followed his fellow mercenary. Borbon would at times think of his daughter, and always hoped she was safe. He wanted to come back for her often, but Gandal had sent hunters after her shortly after what he did to Lorgar and his family. The fear of what Gandal would do to his remaining kin always bothered Borbon deeply, as Gandal certainly seemed to want to live up to his name as 'Butcherer of Rockbase'. Now he preferred his new title 'Bane of the South', one final pinch of salt in the wound of Borbon's heart, to forever bury his people's history by removing even their name from the devil's favored titles.

The two followed up northward, and as they went, Siegfried opened up a conversation to his old friend. "Burbon. Ifs I gut a feelun, yuo gots a plan fer dus watur dog, I takues ut. If Numbat finds yuo duwn here, he be huppon mad!"

Borbon rolled his eyes "Dat fool of a haure. Nuthin but a cuward an incomputunt. He nu doubt wuld send der harues after us befur Gandul I beuts!"

Siegfried shook his head "I dun knuw, weus did gettum harues killed, an evun den Gandul gots away."

"Deuy gut der chance, an lettum slavers go unharumed. Weus did mur damuge tu dat rat deun the last few seasons!"

Siegfried frowned, as his experiences in trying to ambush the vermin had gone horribly wrong. He still remembered the woodlander he accidently killed in trying to free them from the chain gang that Gandal and his vermin were pulling along. He was more then willing to help fellow woodlanders in need, but he was now having nightmares. Siegfried continued as Borbon kept up watch. The mole mercenary complained "I dus hupe yer ol' frund be nut too faur off, cause bein on dis surfuce be bad fer me poor legs I tells yuo!"

Siegfried didn't notice in time as his head bumped straight into another creature. Siegfried was sent back, and found himself sitting on the ground and nursing his head. He may have been wearing a helmet, but he still patted his head like it hurt. Borbon and Siegfried stared up at a very big otter, a tall and strong looking beast who had his paws to the side and looked down almost disappointed at them. He wore a light and worn looking padded armor with iron plates added haphazardly to it, and had a war axe to his belt. He looked grim at first, as if annoyed.

"What you lads doing in this neck of the woods, huh? Causing trouble I bets?"

Borbon laughed "Nu reasun to be liuke dat Tungrun!"

Tangran Bloodspear tried to hold in a chuckle, but couldn't and bursted out with a friendly laugh. He and Borbon came up close and locked their paws as friendly beasts. From the bushes, several other otters in similar clothes came out, wielding spears and javelins. Most had a tall look to them, likely being family of Tangran or the like. Siegfried was helped up by the otter who suddenly became quite friendly. "Sorry about that, mole! I bets you got a good fright, an' more so! Names Tangran, Tangran Bloodspear! Otter for hire, and best bloody axebeast this side of the forest. On me rudder, Borbon, I am happy to see you!"

"I duo as well, ol' frund!"

Siegfried was surprised, especially to see Tangran. He was a fellow mercenary much like Siegfried was, a protector for hire who helped woodlander communities in Mossflower for a nice price. Yet, this was a concern to Siegfried even as he gave a pained smile. Tangran was controversial to say the least, he and his crew did a bit more than just protect villages. He actively hunted vermin, and his spite for them was about on par with that of Borbon's. This was however quite understandable, as Tangran's family was not originally from Mossflower, but the north. He and his holt were one of the first of Kasg's victims, and Siegfried knew his story all too well.

"Iu's thought yuos be mere nurthward, Tungrun?" Siegfried asked

"Nay, as soon as I heard Gandal and his little cabal of slaving black clads came down here, me and me good ol' folk came to bully em! An of course any blasted vermin who even gives a thought to joining him."

"Tus why weus be loukin fer yuo!" Borbon enthusiastically said "Loung Patrol kicks me out, an' dey be of nu heulp. Yuo could heulps I bets."

"Suicide me crew on Gandal's walls ain't my way, Borbon, but if you are asking I am listening."

"Nut askun fer suicide, but fur aid. I guts a plun ya see. We gunna go an' gettum some pruper hulp from the villagues, an' frum any warriurs we caun geut our paws un! I nut askun as a frund, but as a desperut beast."

"For the likes of ya, I would do you a solid and give my services freely, so long as you got a plan. If those hares won't help, I know a few mice in Banzlow who might. Although, with all the evacuations, I've got me own paws busy. Ain't going to give Gandal the chance to claim more rudders for his dead master like he did for me ma and pa."

Borbon shivered at the thought. Taking another beast's tail was bad enough, a sign of humiliation and a painful reminder of cruelty of the vermin. Yet, Kasg's cruelty was legendary when he was not even on the mind of Mossflower, his vermin took it upon themselves to subjugate Tangan's holt. When the holt finally fell, Borbon knew that half of Tangan's holt had their tails removed by clumsy vermin paws, and those who didn't were enslaved by Kasg's horde. Had Kasg not fallen, Tangan would have very likely had spent the remainder of his days building roads alongside his kin had Kasg not invaded Mossflower. Yet this was not the thought that disturbed Borbon, but of what Gandal was more than likely subjecting Lorgar's son, and wondered if Gandal had inherited such cruelty from his rotting master. Knowing Gandal, Borbon could only feel dejected at the thought.

"Buildun an army dun sound easy." Siegfried piped up "Tungun, yuo also dun work cheapuly if I remumbers."

"I don't, but if we gonna bury Gandal, i'm all ears. Say, how about this, if we do build an army, and crush that rat, how abouts we split the loot. Fifty fifty."

"Nay."

"Nay?"

"Yuo can have aull of it, Tungun. Evury last penny. Yuo wanna spliut, ya spliut wit Siugfried here."

Tangan smiled and yelped out to his fellow otters who got into a swift marching formation. The group started to head towards Banzlow, as Siegfried got to know a bit more as to why the otter was down in southern Mossflower. Besides keeping his axe ready to crash down on Gandal if he made the wrong move, the otter was also protecting a local village. One day, he returned in dismay to an empty village, only to realize that the Long Patrol were evacuating the east. Tangan may have been out of his job, but his nightly activities were simple. He would often take his otters and smash up vermin homes and camps, dragging them farther from their usual stomping grounds. Tangan was actually quite proud when he told the two that several had the audacity to fight back, and swiftly ended them in turn.

Yet, as the group went beyond the forests, Siegfried and Tangan stopped. Borbon was unsure of why at first, but even he could not ignore the ground he was now treading upon. Below them were tracks, hundreds of tracks in massive lines. Wheel carts and muddied ground went in a long line towards the coast and Borbon raised his warhammer with concern and ready for action. "Gandul must be on dur move."

"Nay. De's be otter paws on the ground." Tangan pointed to some. "Unless Gandal decided to conscript otters into his army recently, I'd say this a woodlander army."

"Aye!" Siegfried cried out as he was also snooping about "Gandul's army ain't dut big! Too many hare paws fur dat!"

"Lung Patrol youse think?" Borbon sounded hopeful, but then as he thought more on it, the fact an entire army seemingly came from the east didn't make much sense. Especially some Long Patrol army. The group looked forward, towards the west, and followed the trail with curiosity.

---

The enthusiasm of the Southward expedition was shattered as they camped in what remained of Banzlow, having spent an entire day turning the one peaceful community into a mass grave. There were no priests amongst the woodlanders to give proper burial rites, so Shackleford stood in. Although he could speak well in front of curious students, he rambled on and on in slight disrespect to the dead. Of the vermin they found scattered amongst the remains, their bodies were not given the dignity of proper burial. Instead, a shallow ditch was dug out for them, and the two ferret prisoners found themselves being temporary grave tenders. There were no songs being sung, as the soldiers felt awkward as they camped close or even on the graves of the dead who had been torn so violently from the world. Several soldiers could even be heard weeping throughout the camp, especially as younger creatures were found in similar conditions.

Frankfort was in the command tent, having to sit down in a chair, thinking of what he saw. He had heard tales of vermin cruelty and barbarism, the kingdom of Southward was saved from brutal northern usurpers. Yet this? This was beyond even his own imagination, something of true evil and malice that seemingly had no point. His generals were filing into the tent along with his advisors, and nearly all could see that the squirrel prince was deeply troubled. In truth, almost all of them were. Kelsum had known of barbarism committed by lizards and frogs, and he truly thought he had seen everything. Gosland was utterly mortified, unable to even speak. Only Nosbub seemed to speak with some normality, as he broke the silence.

"Our scouts found larger groups of tracks. Our fears are confirmed, a larger hare group had been here earlier, and then marched elsewhere." Nosbub put his paws slowly behind his back, bringing himself to be straightened up. Yet, he somehow still looked as crooked as ever "My lord, your orders?"

Frankfort kept silent, not even lifting his head to look at them, thinking to himself. The room was silent, as Frankfort eventually spoke up "Palewind. Has it been found?"

"Yes, my lord." Guil replied in a weak voice "Our scouts have returned to tell that the Long Patrol camp lays directly northeast of this position, about a three day journey at a certain pace. The. . .garrison is mostly tents with a wooden palisade, capable of holding around fifty individuals, we think. Possibly more. As ordered, the scouts have kept hidden and did not announce our presence, and we have confirmation that the Long Patrol are mustering."

"Mustering?" Frankfort asked

"Yes. We think they are heading back north, for what reason we do not know. We know most are near the western most villages."

There was a silence in the room as Frankfort darted his eyes, wondering what possible reason the Long Patrol could abandon the south. "You sure they are retreating back north? Guil, if this force was aware of our presence, will they stay to aid us against this 'Gandal'?"

Guil was silent, unsure of what to say. After an awkward pause he spoke up "I do not know fully my lord. Perhaps there is another threat in Mossflower which pulls them away, but we do not know for certain. Our presence hasn't been observed, nor are they looking for us. If they abandon the villages. . ." Guil paused, not wanting to say what he was thinking. If the Long Patrol abandoned the villages, they would not only be facing the vermin forces alone, the villages would likely end up a lot like Banzlow.

Frankfort took notice of this pause and raised his paw to keep him from speaking "Commander Nosbub, you tell me that the tactical situation had changed based on new information. Please. Proceed."

Nosbub tried to not look proud as he came forward and spoke up "My lord, all of our information points to making Shackleford's concerns not only legitimate, but now just objective fact! The Long Patrol are not the force we hold so dear, but are a fallen order whose incompetence and inability to administer this country has led to an increase of these vermin attacks. Any other force would have had ample opportunities to deal with this threat, and even if our good camp philosopher's concerns were untrue, the dangerous poor decisions of this 'Numbat' is clearly a form of corruption that leads to these. . .disasters."

Kelsum spoke up, angrily and with authority "This is preposterous! You'd blame the Long Patrol for this massacre it sounds like! The true villains here are the vermin, and should be dealt with as such."

"Commander Kelsum, please do not speak out of turn. I am not saying proper woodlanders did this, but let us not ignore the fact that this happened close to them, our scouts confirm a presence was here, and now they are moving out. This force must be arrested and dealt with, and answers given to this travesty."

Kelsum looked like he was going to argue with Nosbub, but Frankfort spoke up first. "Then a change of plans. Commander Gosland, you and your army are to sweep towards this 'garrison' and await further orders. Commanders Kelsum and Nosbub will lead the main army towards the western most villages. If the hares of Mossflower are mustering there, we will get our answers."

Frankfort arose and dismissed his generals, and Lars entered the room. The hare came close to the prince, who was clearly distant. "My lord, do you feel well?"

"When I gathered this army to march into Mossflower, Lars, I suspected to be greeted like how they say in the old tales. Flowers and roses at my feet, heroically marching in to save this elder country from another evil, to repay it for all the good it has done to us. Yet instead, I meet creatures I wouldn't even say are impoverished, but so below our own peasantry that it is an insult. I meet evil beasts who care not for life in any regard, yet are the most feared evil of the land. Now? A Long Patrol who the stories tell of in such greatness somehow cannot even whiff of the evil we buried here. They march north, and we fight their battles for them now? I fear yet that Shackleford is right, and that perhaps the mad old mouse truly had earned his degrees."

Lars nodded "I share the same fears, my good prince. Bolly terrible what is happening here, tis a shame really. Kind of makes me miss Southward now."

Frankfort paused, as if some idea popped into his head. He shook it away for now as he turned to Lars and gave a weak smile "A shame indeed. Let us prepare to march out, good friend."
_

Nosbub was in his tent, drinking heavily of a bottle of wine. He sat in his own tent for now, thinking a bit more on what he was doing. If his ancestors and father could see the disillusioned hare he was now, even he'd disown himself. The black and twitchy hare sat back in comfort on his tropical wood chair, smirking at his company. Two other beasts were in the tent with him, a soldier and a captain. The captain was a hedgehog named Esmert, who wore an obnoxiously expensive golden collar, with shining shoes. He looked more like a pompous noble than a captain, wearing no armor and his only weapon was a silver decorated sword to his hip. Esmert was Nosbub's favored captain, the overseer of his camp and his army. Although he only had a sword now, the hedgehog kept a whip quite close by just in case his troops needed reminding of their own professionalism. He kept an eye on the outside of the tent, darting his eyes just in case others dared to overhear their conversation.

The soldier on the other hand was a vole named Baros. The vole sat across from Nosbub. Although he was a lowly soldier in one way, he was perhaps the only creature Nosbub had any general respect for.

"So boss, just to let you know, Gosland's scouts won't keep quiet even if bribed. If we do send out scouts as you ask, we should 'distract' the others. We were lucky this time around."

"Indeed." Nosbub couldn't have pulled off such a trick as well as he did yesterday, not in a hundred lifetimes. The Black Twitch had made up his mind on his plans, and his risks had seemingly worked quite well. He had sent out scouts to go and find something specific, anything really, of which would be in direct contact with vermin cruelty. If he prodded Frankfort enough, he could puppet him to maybe do a couple 'extra' things. When his scouts found Banzlow however, his mood went from cautious optimism to full on fanaticism. "Baros, I think you have earned some extra payment for your marching services." Nosbub winked to him.

"Naturally of course, boss."

Esmert seemed less optimistic "Nosbub, when you said we could retire and rebuild here, you sounded cautious. We could have used Shackleford as a scapegoat, and maybe build something for ourselves. Now you want to stab this country in the back? Seems a bit risky if you ask me."

"You can blame the illustrious Long Patrol for my sudden ambitions, Esmert. It will be convincing everyone else the real trick, if we play our cards right."

Esmert smirked, the hedgehog turned to his boss with a cruel grin. Being the son of some noble family in Southward was one thing, being a lesser born son was another. He had long given up any hopes of inheritance, and he had many agreements with Nosbub. At first, Esmert was tempted to get his own commander arrested for conspiracy, but now his morbid curiosity was paying off. "Playing our cards right, indeed. These country folk would certainly be grateful if they had the likes of us ruling over them."

"Exactly, you numbskull." Nosbub grunted "Shackleford can go on about the vermin as much as he wants, and the better for us. Esmert, make sure every troops has a sudden and deep understanding of Shackleford's insane ramblings, would you?" Esmert nodded and went out, leaving Nosbub and the vole alone. Nosbub offered a taste of his wine to the vole who took it and drank of it greedily.

"Now, as for you. I need information on everyone else, especially Kelsum. Gosland is already quite easy I suppose to turn to this little cause I am building up. Yet, its Kelsum who will be the hardest to convince. I need their scouts 'busy' and my own being the main group. If you can, lead them and find me more 'Banzlows' if you can."

The vole left to also do as bidded, as Nosbub relaxed comfortably in his chair. Nosbub could see it now, like a dream as the yellow banners of Southward flew over newly built castles, pristine roads, and newly founded farms. He could see it, all of it, flowing into his pockets like a personal little fiefdom for himself and his close associates. If he had ambitions to settle in southern Mossflower and carve out a slice of the forest for himself to rule, he was now thinking bigger. Maybe a castle, hundreds of them! From the bloody north to this wretched little bolly hell down here? I wouldn't even need a bloody castle, i'd have a palace to make those posh bush tailed fools I call 'lord' give pause! Frankfort can sit on some bloody throne elsewhere, while I rule a realm so big that even Southward would falter! Ha! Nosbub took another drink of his wine, confident in himself. Yet when he let down his wine, Kelsum was in the door of the tent, looking angrily at him in silence. Nosbub was utterly surprised, not having heard him come in and fell down on himself.

"Gah! You lop eared buffoon! My rugs!" Nosbub cried out as he tried to quickly take up his wine before more stained the floor of his precious tent.

"We must bolly talk, Commander." Kelsum put his paws firmly behind his back, looking down at the Black Twitch who angrily got up and capped his drink. A couple pathetic hiccups made Kelsum wonder how much nepotism was involved in Nosbub's promotion. "Nosbub, whatever game you are playing, I am hoping you know full bloody well what you are doing."

"Wot bloody game." Nosbub angrily grunted, eventually assuming his proper noble stance, or at least its mockery of it.

"Don't think I did not notice your scouts all of a sudden doing things without orders, it is the 3rd Army's responsibility to scout ahead of the army, not yours."

Nosbub was now a bit worried, as Kelsum was beyond suspicious of him now. Nosbub however regained his composure and spoke out, a sly twist to his tongue "Yes, I know it was impractical, but my scouts had different orders under me. I had sent them out farther than usual to look for something in particular."

"And that is?"

"Vermin holes of course."

Kelsum raised an unbelieving eyebrow to Nosbub, as the hare explained "Ever since that little incident with that vermin bandit, I wanted some more accurate information. You see, my scouts had orders to find and take account of vermin in the area. Species, weapons, communities. Not many were found of course, Kelsum. You'd know that if you bothered to read my bloody reports."

"I do in fact, and they seem to be oddly specific. Sending scouts deep into the woods to find some barbarian filth wandering about? I am quite impressed you have such a sudden interest in these 'vermin', Nosbub."

Nosbub frowned, as he could see Kelsum looked frustrated, but he had his own sly plan just in case this kind of thing cropped up "As simple minded as you tend to be to such tactics, this all comes down to numbers. One soldier is still a soldier, and since no one seems to bother with making lists of such beasts, I took the initiative. Is there something you wish to imply, Kelsum?"

"You and initiative go about as well together as a drunken peasant during an evening ball"

Nosbub wrinkled his whiskers in annoyance "I am still waiting to know if you think of me as something I surely do hope you do not imply."

Kelsum was unsure of what to think if he was being honest with himself, and Nosbub seemed more and more confident. It was smart to send out scouts to get more information especially on enemies and potential threats. Yet, Kelsum had some very serious doubts about Nosbub's intentions. It bothered him so suddenly that Nosbub, a hare he always thought of as a cynical and lazy beast, was now suddenly sending out scouts for weak reasons. Kelsum didn't give a proper salute and left without a word, as Nosbub smirked at his little victory. Nosbub went back to drinking in celebration, hopeful that his little scheme would blossom ever further.
_

Ginny von Bulbstrike and Perla Streambattle were two beasts from two different parts of Southward, from two similar social classes. The two were of two very powerful families back in Southward, with the Von Bulbstrikes being the great founders of Southward's armies and reformers of various garrisons and levy systems which transformed a mostly feudal army into a professional one. Ginny for her part did not take up the mantle of captain, but as a common soldier much like many of her family had before her. Perla was only slightly different, being of the line of Streambattle whose family line ruled Southward's holt as one its most powerful families. The Southward Holt had gone beyond prosper since the days of Gael Squirrelking, and have lived in comfort. To Perla and her brother, the army was a way of earning not only prestige for themselves, but also proving to their strict family rules of their personal responsibilities. Being thicker than water, Perla and her brother had been excited to be a part of the army.

Both were in the camp's washroom tent, a temporary structure where the soldiers were washing and cleaning fabrics of their clothes. Soldiers mostly despised the job, and were always quick to get their cleaning over with. In a pan full of graying water, Ginny and Perla took their time, speaking in hushed tones.

"Gosland is honestly kind of giving me trouble, Ginny." Perla said in a sad voice "He hasn't said much about what happened here. By the time I was even coming up the front, I nearly stepped in some poor fellow's former lunch! Was it really that bad?"

Ginny nodded, as Perla had missed most of the general cleanup of Banzlow "Twas. It was horrible. The stuff of nightmares. Pa doesn't even speak of it, and I think he is trying to ignore it." Ginny was shaken by what she saw. As they spoke a bit more of their concerns and the dejection of the camp, three other beasts came in. Both recognized them in some way. The ferrets Nirb and Mirb were following a hedgehog who was in a unique breastplate which fully covered him and his back. Like many hedgehog soldiers in the army, the armor had holes in the back which allowed the spikes of his back to poke on through, although Ginny knew him well enough to immediately call to him. "Banoff? Thought you were with Pa. Aren't we supposed to march by evening, wot?"

Banoff gave a weak smile to her "Aye. However, me poor sleepen clothes are still blasted stained, and I am borrowed de's two to gettem away from that mad ol' mouse."

Perla raised an eyebrow as the hedgehog seemed to comfortably motion the two ferrets towards a pan near the two. The two ferrets looked mortified, but less so. Nirb spoke up "I dank ya spike back! One more of dem mad beast questions an' I'd be thrown meself into dat mass grave."

Perla was about to angrily object to such a perceived insult, but Banoff chuckled "If I had to hear you folk fumble your answers, I'd have joined you. Now, listen carefully cause I won't repeat myself. We got soaps and all, you two will be using em. Just add a few dots of soap from that dish over there and clean these sheets and clothes good. Like this." Banoff was showing the two ferrets who recoiled in disgust of it. Mirb complained openly "Useless I tells ya! Be no point if it just gonna get dirty again."

"It'll keep it clean, vermin." Perla finally worked up some strength to comment, rolling her words like an insult. Banoff noticed, but neither of ferrets didn't. Mirb may have lost a paw, but he was in a debating mood "Clean? If ya want to get clean water dog, ya just dip yerself in some water or a marsh. All dis cleaning be poor on me one paw I gots left! I don't know how ya soft beasts stand it."

"Soft beasts?" Ginny raised her voice, which made the two ferrets quickly realize they may not be in good company as Banoff was. Banoff patted their backs and set to work himself on his own clothes "Ya know, if Pa was smarter then I was, he'd have gone to dat university Shackleford be preachen that nonsense at an' got me family rich an' prestigious an the like. Not sure why everyone be so surprised an' all."

Perla was now confused as Ginny spoke up to him, continuing their wash "With how dejected the camp is Banoff, it'd had been for the better. Is Mossflower really all like this?"

"With how my pa described it, nay."

"Excuse me, but who are you anyhow?" Perla asked

"Oh. This Banoff. Banoff Herder, a pikebeast and captain of em' in Pa's part of the army. Kind of like Gaslow, but mostly our greener folk if I am not mistaken."

Banoff nodded as Nirb drew attention by somehow fumbling in even simple work. It drew a question from Perla as Banoff silently helped him "You seem. . .comfortable around these two."

"Pa used to speak of vermin all the time, but not the way Shackleford an' his lackeys make it out to be."

"I mean, Shackleford is the most intelligent beast in the camp and specializes in vermin studies." Perla reminded him, but this drew a roll of the eyes from the three in front of her, as they continued to work. Mirb spoke up this time, a little anger to his voice "Intelligent beast, ya say? I've known some real dumb folk. One me uncles tumbled off a damned cliff tryen to escape wit some vittles, found em' dey did all splatted like. Dat mouse is about a level below dat if ya asks me."

"I wasn't." Perla grunted, but then Nirb spoke up "Tis weird for a mouse to start asken about our thoughts what happen here. Mirb over der got all angry and flustered whens that ol' mouse suggested we'd already knew! Ain't right, you know, den claimen we all be dumb beasts an' der like."

Banoff grunted in agreement. Perla could see the two ferrets were in utter distress as she spoke up once again "I mean, you folk do know this was a vermin attack. Right?"

"Twas, even know the bloody beast who did it." Mirb angrily retorted. He was trying to get some part of his own new tunic clean, but was mostly pretending to work. He heard a sudden stop of cleaning around him and looked up, seeing that everyone was now looking at him. Instead of his usual demeanor of concern, he looked at them as if they should have known themselves. Even Nirb was peeking to listen in his own ignorance. "I mean, thoughts ya all knew."

Ginny looked flustered and spoke up "You knew?!"

"I mean, tis Nurf an' his crew. Bandit from der east. Did a big ol' nasty raid on a mill near der lake, killed a decent number of folk an' den disappeared. Twas talk of der south fer seasons, but he an' his folk only come out every few seasons at best. One of his degenerate crew came looken fer hordebeasts to join em, some weasel fellow wit a nice grin. Big ol' elder rat came up to him, shanked him, an put his head on a pike fer the hares to find."

Ginny and Perla looked at each other, not really understanding anything what Mirb had said, even though his thick accent. "Well, Shackleford says you folk are all connected together, aren't you? Like this Gandal and this 'Nurf'?" Perla spoke up. Banoff was however the one to answer this time.

"Connected in the same way you two and the Black Twitch be. Though, at least we gots a name, which I should report to Kelsum after this. Though I'm not sure why you two didn't say anything."

"Honestly thought ya folk knew." Mirb shrugged "An even if ya didn't, I ain't gonna get me last paw chopped off or get meself hanged fer somethin like dat!"

Ginny was finishing her cleaning, but then asked Mirb "What exactly is a 'degenerate'? Is it a bolly insult of sorts?"

Mirb shook his head "Nay, tis more. Me pa used to describe it as such. 'Any ol' vermin folk can weird a spear an' a willow stick fer der own sakes, but as soon as dey start to be enjoyen it, dey ain't nothin but a danger to demselves an' ya.' Folk like Nurf aren't much beasts as dey are liven monsters, creatures to avoid an' no tear shed fer the likes of em."

Perla was a bit surprised. If anything, she had heard nothing of such things from Shackleford nor his books, which she had skimmed over often. Once finished, Banoff gave the twin ferrets some swift advice "Best you two keep wit me, and we will give Kelsum a report together and anything else you two may know."

"He ain't gonna take one me paws, right?" Nirb asked in a quivering voice. Banoff shook his head "Nay. However, it is either Kelsum or Frankfort you two will report to. If our prince is gonna be acten general through the whole campaign like that, I thinks it best you keep to my side of the camp if you can."

The two nodded in agreement as they finished up their duties. Ginny and Perla looked at them with a new found pity, skittishly coming with Banoff. Although others would give them angry looks, Perla now began to question if perhaps they knew as much about the vermin as the whole army knew about Mossflower.

---

Balon felt a bit embarrassed as he led a small host of vermin to his back, flanked by some equally embarrassed Long Patrol. Vermin were an odd sort to him, being bandits one day and mercenaries another. The difference between a woodlander and vermin mercenary was night and day. Woodlander mercenaries were usually lonesome folk, usually skilled warriors who sold their services to protect communities from raiders and bandits, keeping order when they could. Vermin mercenaries were just a different breed of trouble, no different then most hordebeasts. The rabble behind him were loud, obnoxious, and were already gleefully drunk. Most vermin mercenaries would sell their services to hordes and vermin tyrants for cold, hard coin. They cared little other than getting that coin, and were above average in skill. They were at least tolerable, in the sense that a vermin mercenary could at least keep themselves busy bashing fellow vermin instead of woodlanders.

"Ya says ya got work, stripe dog!" An all too familiar and hated voice spoke up next to him. Toila Longspear was proudly marching beside him, her long spear held in marching order. "I hope it be wort it! Me an' me crew ain't really all dat interested in yer little affairs usually, but ya says ya got plenty o' money!"

Balon tried to ignore her as much as he could. Toila smirked and jabbed to him with the put end of her spear in a playful mood. The ferret maiden spoke up in a harsh, bullying tone "Ya don't speak as much as ya did, what dem hares do to a big ol' fellow like ya? Strip yer tongue out?"

"Toila, as much as I enjoy your conversational mood, I am not as interested as you think I am." Balon angrily chided her. "We are marching to deal with the likes of Gandal. We need to get rid of him and fast, and then drag Nurf Bloodkeep from the gruf of his neck to the chopping block shortly thereafter."

Toila smirked "I still cannot believe dat degenerate got ya folk all in a heep o' trouble. How'd even get to Banzlow anyhow?"

Balon hated how casual her mood was "The same way he keeps getting past us. He murders our sentries, slips into a village, and then disappears back to the inland lake, deep in Gandal's own territory. If Gandal wasn't there, we'd have his head on a pike by now."

"If it be any consolation, ya can buy me pike to use!"

Balon gave her a vicious look, and the ferret began to back off towards her group of fellow mercenaries. Although only given half pay, the thought of dealing a nasty blow to Gandal meant they could steal a lot of good loot for themselves. Of those mercenaries following in the group was an odd group of vermin. Toila gave them odd looks, for they were not regular vermin she knew of. They looked like a cross between an otter and a ferret, with darker brown fur and thick fur. They were certainly fairly big, and their armor was odd in shape as well. They had rugged red tunics which covered chainmail armor beneath, their weapons were short swords and maces, and they had small tower shields to their backs. Each of them had a domed helm, more looking like soldiers than anything.

Toila knew them clearly as vermin, she knew that much. They called themselves Minks, and were from the northeast, across the sea. They had camped with her company of fellow vermin a few times, and were more like tourists. They had come less for plunder and more for glory. "Palewind, whens we gettin to it?" The leader of these three foreigners asked.

The hare next to him puffed up "Another's day march good sar."

"Bah! Let us be der sooner den!" Their voices were also clearly having a vermin accent, but it was rougher and more thickened. Toila gave a chuckle "Ya folk seem quite impatient it seems!"

"Quicker we gets paid der better." One of the smaller and younger minks perked up. "Ain't dat right, Jurnal?"

"Aye, Bynard." Spoke to the elder of them. Jurnal was clearly older, with a couple nasty gashes on his left eye which created a small split. Yet, he kept up a happy attitude, even as he marched with the vermin mercenaries towards Palewind. "Quicker be better as I says. Not to mention, ya hares better got some damn good vittles!"

The hares were silent, some rolling their eyes in annoyance while others gave him increasingly contemptuous looks. Jurnal didn't really care as he and his brothers continued to walk. Balon was hoping they would reach Palewind soon, and that the real campaigning could then start. He was a bit sad just how much had gone wrong in southern Mossflower, but was certain things could not possibly get any worse.

Then it got worse.

A lot worse.

On the road to Palewind, Balon was shocked to see Numbat and several hares coming up to them at a brisk pace. Beside him with a dejected looking Terrance, the recently demoted hare who looked red with fury and contempt. Numbat on the other hand looked horrified and anxious. As Numbat and his group came up to Balon and his gathering of mercenaries, the badger stopped and stared down with concerned curiosity. Numbat frowned, but it was Terrance who spoke up, as if having exhausted himself and Numbat with argument.

"We cannot go along with this! You will-"

"Terrance! Bloody silence please!" Numbat angrily said, his fellow hare silenced himself. As the group stopped, the vermin slowly became silent as Numbat collected himself. He spoke to the mercenaries first. "I apologize, but we can no longer hire any of you. Return to your camps, or start moving eastward."

Toila angrily shouted "What?! Why?"

"Mossflower is at war, and we cannot afford your services."

The vermin looked at each other confused. Of course Mossflower was at war, with Gandal and the rest of Kasg's fledgling lieutenants. Yet as Numbat spoke up, he was quick to inform his badger captain "Balon, you are to march to Palewind and pack up, and to evacuate northeast with anything we can carry. Salamandastron is under siege, from a massive army of wildcats. And. . ." Numbat paused, pursing his lips as he spoke in a slow and defeated tone "Naus Stag Hare led an army against a vermin host in the north. We just received word we were defeated. A rat named Markem Brownnose now marches on Redwall Abbey, a massive host. We are going to Redwall to reinforce the retreating army."

Balon paused, unsure of what to act or say. He was horrified as Numbat continued to lay on terrible news to him "Tussock has fallen as well. We are now under attack by two large vermin hordes from the west sea and northeast Mossflower. I cannot delay, I am heading to our garrisons and outposts, and giving warning to the villagers. We are all moving towards the central forests and regrouping."

Jurnal listened with interest, even wondering if he could sell his services to this 'Markem', but naturally said nothing. There was a mix of anger and concern amongst the vermin mercenaries who overheard the Long Patrol hare, but Terrance was perhaps the angriest voice.

"Numbat, you abandon the south, you leave them to Gandal and Nurf! Is it not enough we cannot even bloody deal with these rotters!? Now you are going to hand them all of bloody southern mossflower on a bloody silver platter to them!"

"Terrance, what would you have me do, suicide myself against some blasted vermin spear wall and let the south rot anyway, wot?" Numbat calmly seethed, not even giving Terrance the dignity of a stare. "Balon, you have your orders. You, Terrance, and a bloody whole lot of whatever hares you can find must muster at Palewind and move out. I will meet you near the outpost of Gazerend, toward the road leading to Redwall itself. If we can regroup and gain command of the main force there, we may just have a bloody chance of turning this whole disaster around!"

Balon sighed and nodded "Yes, sir."

"What about bloody Nurf?" Terrance seethed, holding onto a clear contempt of Numbat. No one could ignore Nurf now, his slaughter at Banzlow was now becoming much more widespread, and the hares were now paranoid of him. Too many had died at his paws, and it tore at both Numbat and Terrance's heart that it was likely Nurf would once again slip away from the justice he so deserved if they left. Numbat angrily ordered "You have your bolly orders, Terrance. Move out, and move out immediately." Numbat and his hares were soon rushing past the group, heading towards the garrisons in the northern end of southern Mossflower to gather what they could.

Terrance and Balon watched on, and the vermin mercenaries began to disperse. Only Toila remained alongside her crew of fellow mercenaries. She spoke up in a pity to Balon "Say, stripe dog, if ya wants I can gets ya to yer camp in ones piece."

"You aren't having Palewind for your own, ferret." Balon hissed out "However, we won't be needing everything. Help us pack up our things, and we'll let you get some stuff I suppose."

Toila silently celebrated her victory with a clap of her paws when Balon and his subordinates were not looking. Balon did not wish to delay, and his thoughts turned to his distant family back in Salamandastron. He had never suspected another war to happen so quickly, and especially in his lifetime. Now, he and his cadre were heading to Palewind which laid on the horizon.
_

Numbat was in a rather awkward and dubious meeting with a village elder in a village called Marshreed. Marshreed was a major town and economic center in southern Mossflower, being one of the few Mossflower villages with a workshop, several large silos, and one of the most expanded militias. It was a village mostly of mice, but several squirrels, hedgehogs, and voles all lived in the village as well. Numbat had just informed the chief of the village what had happened in Salamandastron and north eastern Mossflower, but the chief was growing increasingly impatient. The mouse chief, an older creature who wore a linen cap and an ornate tunic was less than pleased.

"You cannot be serious, colonel. First you flood my village with refugees, and now you are asking us to evacuate? To the blasted battle fields?"

Numbat sighed, for even as he met the chief in the field, more and more woodlanders were moving into the village looking for rest. Many villages in what was becoming Gandal's increasing territory to the east were now flooding into villages like Marshreed. The mice had a militia, mostly to combat the occasional frog raiding party that tried to breach into the village from time to time, but now were overseeing hundreds of ill-tempered woodlanders. "I cannot in good conscience let you stay here, Gandal and Nurf's strength is too much for even I to handle, and I must head north to regroup with the army. Leaving all these folk here will mean we are leaving you to those two."

The mouse angrily stamped his foot and then let out a hateful grunt "Tis bad enough that you dump all these poor folk onto me, now you want us to abandon our homes cause you can't deal with one blasted rat!"

"It became complicated." Numbat tried to be civil, but the mouse chief was not having it "We will not abandon our homes, especially for the likes of that wannabe warlord and his wretched minions. It is bad enough we had to deal with Nurf, but even your hares apparently flounder against that murderer!"

Numbat remained silent as the mouse chief mostly calmed, his frustrations having grown. "Abandoning our homes is bad enough, but it will take time, a season or two, just to get everyone out. Take those you can, colonel. Me and my beasts will stay until everyone is out. This news from the north, it troubles me deeply."

"It bolly troubles me as well." Numbat replied sadly, even as the chief huffed and turned, having accepted the hare's reasoning even if he despised it.

Three villages had so far begun evacuations in a long line of refugees heading northward, and those who heard of the coming fight with the vermin were now breaking open old caches of weapons. Fear filtered across the whole of southern Mossflower like a plague, at the thought of now three vermin hordes bearing down upon their home. Nurf's slaughter felt not as a climax of the south's troubles, but only the beginning. Numbat and his hares were organizing what they could, but also relieving hares to begin mustering towards the river. Numbat could only spare three small divisions of hares at best, once having been four when he started. He had to admit that Gandal had been horribly underestimated, which led to such a stalemate as the rat had brutally conscripted and built his own fortified settlement to keep Numbat at bay. The fact that a genocidal warlord and Nurf now being the only true force in the south terrified him, but it terrified Numbat more that two massive armies would besiege both his home and the famed abbey of Redwall.

Numbat walked amongst the refugees, surprised to see an increasing number of vermin and even lizards amongst them. Numbat had paused when a large rat family, one which he partly recognized. It was an older rat for certain with a gray hue to his fur along with most of his brood. He wore the typical garb of any impoverished vermin, all except the unmistakable garb of a black cloth wrapped around his left shoulder in a display of past pride. Numbat came over to him, as the rat was loading both boxes of supplies and several of his young onto the cart.

"Bolly hell, thought you and your folk would have been in Gandal's camp to be honest."

The rat gave him a cruel and annoyed eye, speaking in a harsh tone "Nay. Ain't gonna get conscripted by some dead ol' beast like Kasg an' his blasted horde again dis time! If you folk leaven, I am leaven as well! Come on Mayfa! Lumka! Get into the blasted cart!" The rat was practically slapping some of his daughters to jump into it. The rat turned and pointed to a growing number of vermin coming out of the forests, bearing either just themselves or trailing a group of families.

"Word spread quick from what'd happen in Banzlow, and der rest of the forest, long ears. No one wants to get bloody conscripted by the likes of Gandal, nor get disembowled by der likes of Nurf. Dat degenerate doesn't just stop wit you woodlander folk."

"I'm more surprised your kind aren't flooding north to join the other hordes." Numbat said with misplaced pride. The rat grunted "Depends on der vittles, but saw a bigger group of folk headen on north as well once dey heard what was happenen. Saw some frogs getten real close to us while we were passen on by too, so it either we get enslaved by Gandal, murdered by Nurf, or eaten by blasted frogs!"

A couple of small skinks rushed on by between the two, most of them carrying blow darts and short stake-like spears. They were being commanded about by a larger and older beast, hissing at them. The graying rat grunted "Dem lizard folk also be worried, saw a big group of em' comin out of der swamps. Fear dat wit you folk leaven, der frogs will descend on dem next."

"We'll return hopefully." Numbat was quick to reply. "Although, I don't see a 'older friend' of sorts, you've seen the Bowthief clan?" The rat, and really any vermin in southern Mossflower who knew anything, all knew the Bowthiefs and their clan. The foxes had once a terrible reputation, but became tamed over the years of failed raids. Numbat was partly proud he convinced them to turn from their ways even, although he always suspected they would be up to their old tricks. Harmless by most vermin standards, especially compared to the likes of Nurf and Gandal.

The gray rat shook his head "Nay, not seen em." Numbat made his farewell to the rat, who didn't reply back as he quickly set upon one of his sons who was trying to play instead of getting into a cart. Woodlanders gave the increasing group of vermin odd looks, but none were truly bothered by them, especially as Numbat's Long Patrol started to collect weapons from those they didn't fully know.

Numbat looked outward toward the forests, and breathed in the fresh air of his beloved country, and then he saw a curious sight. One of the hares, with a happy grin on his face, was rushing towards him and down the highland hills. He was practically jubilant as he quickly pushed past beasts to Numbat. He gave a hard salute and couldn't bear to keep in his news any longer.

"Numbat! Sir! You wouldn't believe it!"

"Hmm? Well, speak up, soldier, what is it?" Numbat was now curious, until he began to hear what the scout had to say. "I saw em, a massive bolly army! Southward flags an' all, good sar! Hundreds! Maybe even thousands! A whole bolly army!"

Numbat paused and then gave a massive grin, even as he was pushing past beasts toward the forests, he could hear the marching feet of the woodlander army approach. He had nearly forgot he had even sent his desperate plea. What he had expected in small reinforcements, now became a miracle. The massive host of Southward was coming out of the trees, led on by a golden squirrel in armor which looked like fire in the evening sun.
_

Frankfort was looking down at the village of Marshreed with mixed feelings. He saw a massive number of beasts, all getting ready to move out, and the Long Patrol hares looking up at them. The 1st and 2nd Armies began to march from the highland hills towards the village in different directions as Frankfort and his bodyguard Samkon were gleaming down on the village itself. Samkon was horrified with what he saw, with groups of vermin hoisting themselves onto carts and intermingling with the other woodlanders. Reason would have suggested to him that perhaps there was something odd about the relationship between vermin and woodlander. Instead, Shackleford had come up to the Prince's side, being between him and Samkon and looking down with curious eyes. The train of woodlanders began to slowly stop to look in amazement as the yellow banners of Southward began to descend closer to them, but it was the confused and dumbfounded faces of the vermin which interested Shackleford the most.

"Shackleford, I must ask, is it normal for vermin to intermingle amongst these folk?" Frankfort asked in a hushed and disappointed tone. Shackleford shook his head "No my prince, such beasts lack any form of peaceful integration beyond that they can force. All my studies show that they are a violent group unless tamed by another vermin, although perhaps this may not always be the case. Perhaps these vermin are tamed in a similar way we tamed those two 'ferrets' as they call themselves, or a more powerful force commands them. Look at those hares collecting weapons from them, the vermin would never let go of their weapons so brazenly!"

Frankfort could understand what Shackleford was implying, but continued to look out in silence. He could see one hare, more formal looking then the rest in a metal adorned jacket, coming to the front of the village. He looked far less impressive as he had hoped, but from what he came to expect of Mossflower he assumed he was a commander of sorts. Kelsum was moving towards the marshy end of the village, while Nosbub and his army were marching around. Frankfort and several elite divisions marched forward to go and meet the commander face to face.

As these two figures began to meet for the first time, Frankfort's excitement was replaced with an awkwardness. He had a lot of questions, and all of them would sound like insults. As the armies began to loop around the village, providing a protective buffer, the army began to disperse from their main marching formation. Frankfort came up to Numbat, who was quick to introduce himself with a humble bow.

"Names Numbat, Numbat Vigor von Biggerplume III. I am the colonel of the expedition down here in southern bloody mossflower, and I am happy to meet your acquaintance! You have no idea how happy we are to see you!"

Frankfort was silent for a moment, but then collected himself. Shackleford was giving Numbat and his surrounding hares with curious eyes, as if thinking about something. "My good hare, we received your runner shortly thereafter, and the people of Southward answered your call for aid. I am Prince Frankfort Squirrelking, son of King Hubert II. I have brought three armies with me, of our northernmost provinces, three thousand or so fighting beasts! However, good commander, I had a number of questions I wished to ask."

"Bolly sorry to rush this, but we are leaving as soon as bloody possible, good Frankfort! Salamandastron itself is under siege, and an entire army is coming down from the northeast towards Redwall Abbey! Your time could not have been more perfect."

Frankfort paused, and began to speak up "Good sir, you must be mistaken, we had come here to fight a vermin warlord named Gandal?"

"That was what I originally had sent for, now we have two vermin armies on our backs. Gandal and his cadre can wait, for we are heading bloody north to regroup with one of our armies."

Numbat was the happiest hare alive to see the Southward army, but his grin was fading as he noticed an itch of fury in the prince's eyes. As the army kept moving around the village, Frankfort spoke up "We had come across a village on the way here, commander Numbat. Not too far from here, something which had been done to it. My scouts informed me there were hare tracks in that region."

"Banzlow." Numbat gave a defeated frown "Twas a village called Banzlow that we sent a number of refugees too. We tried our best to save the village, but we were too late. A fox you see, named-"

Frankfort cut him off with harsh words "Nurf they call him." Numbat was curious how Frankfort would know this, but the prince had spent the better part of a day with his 1st army commander finding out what had happened at Banzlow. Kelsum reluctantly revealed where he got this information from, with Frankfort nearly being two feet out the door to order Nirb and Mirb's immediate executions for holding back such information. Their lives were only saved by Kelsum arguing with the prince, which the prince held further contempt for the vermin for. Yet, now his contempt resounded to Numbat as he looked to the village. "This 'Nurf', a species of what is called foxes, an ancient enemy of Southward mind you, has so openly attacked these villages and hamlets. Am I to be led to believe that this is proper conduct of the Long Patrol, being unable to defend against this vile barbarian?"

Numbat was now a little shaken, if not downright dismayed as he fumbled his words in a mix of anger and confusion "Nurf is difficult to track, and I bolly well hope you do not mean to imply something you certainly do not mean! We have been trying to keep track of him and his horde, but the rotter has outwitted us time and time again. We could not afford to flush him out, especially with Gandal and his army lying about."

"How do you flounder against this vermin host? I am led to believe they are all quite unintelligible, lacking in any form of tactics or reasonable thought?"

"Who bolly well told you that?!"

Shackleford now had his moment "Well good hare, I did. I am Shackleford, professor and headmaster of an academy in southern Southward. I specialize in various vermin studies, and I must say that my few moments here in Mossflower have only confirmed what I already knew of such creatures. Lacking such intelligence, I must say that they so willingly give up their weapons to you over there is most curious! Being violent in nature and nurture, you'd think that perhaps you command them a bit too well."

Numbat looked down at the elderly field mouse, and thought him insane. He had no clue what he was talking about as Numbat tried to bring the clearly ignorant prince to reality "I don't know about what bolly education brings you to that conclusion. Vermin are not to be underestimated, even in a few numbers. Most here are escaping conscription when we leave for the north. I do not command them, but I asked my hares to disarm them just in c-"

"Then you admit they are a threat?" Shackleford prodded him "Yet, it is curious you allow them to intermingle so casually amongst good beasts."

Numbat frowned as he could see Frankfort let out a sigh in disagreement "I apologize, our journey has not been well. I must have some questions answered if you would."

Numbat breathed in heavily, realizing that perhaps his saving grace was not as bright as he had hoped.
_

The 1st Army under Kelsum began to surround the village from the western side, while the 2nd Army did the same on the eastern side. Both armies had some general idea of what they were doing, but there were some contradictory orders. Kelsum and Nosbub were informed to march to the mustering grounds of the Long Patrol, to slow them until Frankfort had gotten a satisfactory answer of what was happening, but soon Kelsum was dispersing his army to help with the evacuation. Kelsum and captains were scattering about the town, meeting up with their Long Patrol counterparts who were organizing a caravan to take the woodlanders and trailing vermin northward, but the sudden influx of extra woodlanders turned an already busy village into a difficult to traverse traffic jam. Kelsum could barely move through his own beasts, as he bumped up often against others. Once he found his way into the village's center, he was giving orders.

Nosbub watched from afar, but was scoffing at the smell and sight of peasants before him, all of them concerned and worried. While some looked joyful to see the army of Southward, others were a little frightened by the size of the army, especially as it moved in odd directions around the village. The 1st army had stopped entirely, and was trying to help organize the Long Patrol. Nosbub grunted in annoyance, and then began to think. He twitched his nose and smirked to himself. He called out to a southward otter leaning on an iron tipped javelin. "Captain Gythan! Over here at once." The otter gave a deep sigh and came over to his superior commander. Being a once respected captain of an elite regiment of southward skirmishers, he had done nothing but complain since becoming a captain under Nosbub, his spite for the hare was obvious. Nosbub knew, but didn't mind, for Gythan Springriver would obey his commands to the letter, as the otter was constantly promised to get away from his command within a few years.

"Gythan, you see those vermin in the village below?" Nosbub pointed to a grayish rat, whose eyes now shifted awkwardly to several Southward soldiers in curiosity. Gythan nodded "Aye, sir."

"You and Esmert are to take fifty beasts and aid Kelsum with this evacuation, but clearly these vermin are not friendly creatures. Most are likely spies. Be sure to tell Esmert to start interrogating some of them. I will join you shortly after I collect myself from this peasant stench."

Gythan grinded his teeth, really wanting to say something but didn't. He took up his javelin and went off, giving a yelp to several of his fellow otters to join him. Nosbub had the army stop at the foot of the hill, and smiled widely. He could see Frankfort and some silly hare arguing in the distance, their increasing disdain for one another could not have been better for him. A shame such beasts cannot get along so easily, the anxiety certainly can get to some good beast's head with time. Nosbub turned his attention to the village, awaiting his opportunity to strike.

That opportunity came in a way he didn't fully expect, as he was observing the village, two hares had approached him with caution. Nosbub preferred to be alone when he was in his observation mood, and he only noticed them after he twitched and coughed in a harsh manner. Nosbub turned to them and angrily squinted his eyes "You bloody want something, hmm? Speak up then."

"Sir, we got. . .erm, a mole. Two actually. An a bunch of otters, they approached us, commander Nosbub."

"Wot?" Nosbub creaked his voice in annoyance "You interrupt me for such things, hmm? Half rations for both of you till the end of the campa-"

"My lord!" one of the hares objected "They say they've come trailing the army! They are well armed, and insisted the meet you!"

"Fine. Three fourths rations for the rest of the campaign. Bring them forward, you bloody nitwits." Nosbub expected nothing more than a group of mercenaries, or a hedge knight, or even just some well armed peasants. He could have not cared less, not even looking to greet the travelers as Borbon Rocklore spoke up to him.

"Oy! Hare!" Borbon grunted at him. Borbon and his friends were filing towards Nosbub under guard, with Siegfried and Tangran looking around them with interest. The two had never seen such woodlanders before, especially well organized and yet quite naive looking. Most were giving them friendly and curious looks. Nosbub turned his head to the side to Borbon and grunted in general annoyance "I am commander Nosbub Verg Von Gazbring, third to my bloody name. I would most highly prefer you do not call me 'hare' or anything so droll again. Now, who are you and what do you want?"

Tangran angrily paced placed his paws to his hips and huffed "Rude for a bloody hare, I'd say."

"I have no time for games, we are here for a campaign and that is all, otter." Nosbub said with some spite. In truth, he found otters to be quite a disagreeable people, and hid his discontent under a blanket of supposed tolerance of their presence. Tangran took note of this as Borbon spoke up "Names Burbun, tis is Siuegfried, an' Tungrun. Fur a mument, we thoughts we wus trailun a varmunt arumy."

"Well, as you can now clearly see we-" Nosbub stopped, and looked at the group up and down more closely, and then took their words into more consideration. Vermin army, huh? Odd thing to trail for such a small group. Nosbub then gave a snide grin "Borbon, is it? Tell me, for what reason did you decide to follow such an army?"

Nosbub listened, and listened closely as Borbon spoke of his small misadventures, and his spiteful rivalry with Gandal Blackfur. Nosbub's grin grew wider as he was given a treasure trove of information to play with, how Gandal had been attempting to escape, a stalemate between the Long Patrol and the vermin horde, and Borbon's heroic past in fighting him and his dead master. Yet the most interesting thing of all was when Borbon told him of his failed attempt to kill Gandal during an ambush, and for such actions he was banished from southern Mossflower by the Long Patrol commander. Nosbub understood and even agreed with such decisions, as it was a simple fact that a lack of authority led to a failed and poorly planned attack which wasted much needed lives. Yet, Nosbub said "Bloody shame, such initiative should be supported, not punished. Speed is after all the most powerful force in a war."

Borbon and Tangran agreed, but Siegfried held some obvious doubts. "Shaume indeud. Is dut yur leuder ovur yunder?" Borbon pointed to the golden squirrel speaking to Numbat. Nosbub grunted "Yes. Prince Frankfort Squirrelking, if you must have a name. However. . ."

"I'ud like tu tulk wit him." Borbon firmly said. Siegfried tried to slow him down, and Tangran and his otters followed. Nosbub should have stopped them, but decided not to. He did however call to Tangran instead and beckoned him over. "Otter, I need to ask you a most important favor. My captains are in the village below, rooting out vermin spies of this 'Gandal'. Why don't you aid them?"

Tangran turned to the village below and was then starting to notice, much to his anger several vermin wandering about. He nodded in agreement, but turned to Nosbub "I don't do such things for free, ya know."

"A gold ducat for every spy you find." Nosbub smiled. Tangran smiled back and gathered his otters, and began to head down towards the village. Nosbub commanded his army to stay put as he and some of his elite officers made their way toward the prince to supposedly 'stop' Borbon from injecting himself into the two arguing woodlander's conversation. Borbon could not have been more happy to see such an army in Mossflower, and now he wanted nothing more than to see Gandal's face when he had to face down such a force.

Nosbub kept his eye on the village as he strode. Ah, a little pinch of anger and this whole house of cards will tumble on its own. Let the die be cast.
_

Esmert understood his orders, but the hedgehog in his obnoxiously immaculate clothes unfitting for an army captain strode out into the village, hating to stop and push apart what he could only describe as peasants. The hedgehog sniffed the air and was waving it, he hated such places, dirty and savage lands which made him home sick. He grew up on tales of how Southward's expansion south saved woodlanders from barbarism and vicious attacks by lizards. He thought that the age of living in straw huts and mud was a long and distant past, so it was quite a difficult thing for him to walk amongst the commoners in such a manner. As he and his guard pushed past several others, Gythan came up close to him to chat with him in a loud voice. It was hard to hear over the rabble, and Esmert was only paying half attention to Gythan.

"You got any idea what exactly we are supposed to be looking for Esmert?" Gythan tried to look through the crowds of woodlanders who were getting organized by Kelsum's soldiers into more manageable groups. The only groups they did not touch were the vermin, uncertain of what they were even doing here.

"Look for spies, Gythan, what else?"

Gythan grunted in annoyance "Okay, sure, but that mouse makes it seem these vermin folk are too dumb to be competent spies. What if they are just fleeing like this whole lot?"

Esmert gave him a vicious stare "I care not if you believe that trumped up scholar or not, tis an army we are facing. They have spies, and we will root them out."

Esmert and his fellow captain were walking briskly towards one odd vermin in particular, a gray rat with a black cloth tied to his arm. The former hordebeast of Kasg's horde looked at the approaching group oddly. He looked Esmert and Gythan up and down, thinking a little less for their bright colors which he thought made them look clownish. Esmert especially, with his obnoxiously large golden royal collar which flowed from his shoulders, looked especially ridiculous. The gray rat was leaning on a wagon, for which his children would occasionally peep out from a cloth flap above to look down at the busy village.

"You there, erm, 'rat'." Gythan had honestly never seen a rat before until now, who looked to him like an oversized mouse with longer snouts. The rat's color and dirty appearance also made him look less than great to look upon. "Aye? Whatcha want, river dog."

"Enough questions. Me and my associate here are captains of the 2nd Army of Southward, and you will be answering questions for us to obtain your true loyalties."

"Heh? What loyalties?"

"Interesting color of that cloth band you have, may I ask what it is for?" Esmert asked with an increasing annoyance. The gray rat picked his teeth and spat "Twas der only thing Kasg ever gave to der likes of me, so I keeps it as a trophy of sorts."

"Kasg?" Gythan asked.

"Aye, twas one of dem invading folk who led us down here. Gandal's ol boss, an' mine too up till he got emself slain."

The name immediately jumped Esmert who squinted his eyes "So you were a member of this 'Kasg's' horde, and in turn were also a member of this 'Gandal's' as well?"

The rat looked at Esmert in a funny way "Nay, not twas I was sayen."

"You just said your commander was the boss of a vermin warlord we have come to do battle with." Gythan reminded him. The rat kept his mouth shut as he looked at the two with increasing awkwardness and concern. He tried to explain. "Nay! I'm tryen to get out of der south before Gandal takes it over, ya see. I ain't getten meself or me young conscripted into his horde."

"Yet you wear the colors of this enemy proudly." Esmert put his paws to his hips, looking with suspicion at the rat. The elder rat straightened himself up and got angry "Tis I ever got outta dat horde, not even a good weapon nor a decent crumb. Dem vermin folk don bother me none, an woodlanders keep good an clear of me as well."

"I highly doubt that." Esmert said and came a bit closer. He called out to a couple of the 1st army soldiers "You guards, come here. As for you rat, you are under arrest for the suspicion of spy-" Esmert didn't get to finish when the rat angrily lifted him by his tunic and angrily began to shout at him. "I ain't goin anywhere wit ya, spike back! Especially wit some blasted clownish wretch!" The other vermin turned in curiosity to the group, which drew some of them in, along with some Long Patrol. The rat was angry, and his kids were silently cheering him on from their cart. The rat's missus also came over, trying to calm him with little luck, even as guards were trying to push through the crowds with weapons.

The graying rat only partly calmed down when he realized his mistake, but then opened his eye wide in terror as he felt a sudden pain to his back. He let go of Esmert as he heard a scream from his Missus. He felt at his back, feeling the unmistakable feel of a javelin sticking out of it. Tangran was in the distance, but to his sight he thought the rat was attacking the hedgehog captain and reacted.

The rat's anguished yelps soon led to a general panic, as several Long Patrol and vermin were soon rushing to his aid. Tangran pushed through the crowds at first, but even he and his otters soon found themselves being pushed against a wall of panicked woodlanders. Esmert dusted himself off, as Gythan bent down to try to help the downed rat. He was still breathing, but his missus was screaming "Murder! Murder!"

That shout reverberated with panic, and soon rumor and yelps were shouted in unison. Several vermin arrived on the scene first, only seeing several Southward soldiers looking down dismayed at a downed rat. His youngest were rushing out of the cart, and the sight made them angry. One fox took it upon himself to shove and yell at Gythan and Esmert. Tangran could see that perhaps he had acted poorly, but what happened next shocked him. The fox had grabbed angrily onto Gythan and was shaking him, and the otter in a panic drew his blade and rammed it weakly into the fox. The vermin were now in a panic, as two badly injured vermin now found themselves on the ground in pain. The panic became a stampede.

When the Long Patrol arrived, they had a mix of contradictory statements. Esmert was calling out in anger for the arrests of the other vermin, who quickly began to bolt in various directions. One rat found himself cornered near a hut, and was pushed inside by some 2nd army soldiers, knocking over a lantern inside. The building began to smoke as fire spread.

"Tis Gandal! Gandal is attacking! Help!"

"Oh seasons! Nurf is back! Nurf is back!"

None of these were true, but the soldiers acted as if they were. The southward soldiers, listening to the orders, began to pick out targets of the vermin in the crowds. When some vermin and lizards found themselves being arrested, others were just downright slain. The vermin in turn did not understand what was happening, but caught on quickly they were in mortal peril. Some surrendered, but others began to fight for their bitter lives. The woodlanders of the village, not understanding what was going on in the confusion, joined in, which caused a further mess.

Tangran and his otters leaped out of the fray to try to regroup, but soon found that woodlanders were trampling themselves trying to get out of the village. Tangran saw one weasel fighting with a Southward soldier, trying to bury a dagger in the neck of an unprepared hare who was only trying to arrest him. Tangran came over and slew the vermin, and helped the hare to his feet. The fire in one building became an inferno, causing stampedes to go into more narrow directions.

The Long Patrol, seeing the blatant murder around them tried to regain control of the situation, but soon found themselves trying to yell over the crowds at confused Southward soldiers who were slaying vermin or arresting them. They didn't fully understand what was happening either. Kelsum was trying to gather his soldiers to evacuate the doomed village, but then saw with his own eyes when a Long Patrol hare and one of his own soldiers were arguing. He did not hear what was said, but the Long Patrol hare was trying to protect a rat from being slain. Yelling from his own soldier and the Long Patrol hare soon became a violent confrontation. Kelsum tried to make it through the groups of panicked woodlanders, with increasing horror as he witnessed the unthinkable.

The Long Patrol drew his sword, and the Southward hare drew his. One other Southward soldier behind them was witnessing what was happening, and armed with a crossbow tried to yell at the Long Patrol to stand aside. The rat took his chance and ran, and the crossbow beast took aim and fired. His bolt missed, striking a Long Patrol who was coming to try to stop the escalation himself. Kelsum watched as the dueling hares paused as the horrified hare yelled out "Bolly hell! Betrayal! Betrayal!"

Those words led to the next bloody hours as the Long Patrol hare disarmed his guard, only to be speared by another overwatching Southward soldier. Kelsum was yelling orders, but none were able to listen. Screams of dueling and battle were heard, as both Long Patrol and Southward soldiers in a confused and fast moving panic began to believe that they were being betrayed by each other.

"Stop! Bolly stop!" Kelsum kept shouting, but it was far too late. Vermin were now joining in this fight for their lives, and the Long Patrol were unsure of who they were fighting or why. Both would find themselves fighting for no particular reason, only that one would charge out of a crowd after slaying one another.

Kelsum nearly killed himself as he tried to regain order, commanding his forces to make a barrier with their carts and to calm down the crowd. One bloodied Long Patrol with a spear came out, horrified and confused from a building, covered in blood that wasn't his own. Kelsum tried to approach the hare, but he was swung at him with a rapier. Kelsum in kind and without thinking drew his own sword and killed the hare. Kelsum regretted this immediately, as he dropped his sword in shock. He paused, and in his state of terrified daze, he was unable to see the continuing hell which was thrown onto Marshreed. There were too few Long Patrol to fight the Southward army, as the Long Patrol and Southward soldiers calmed, looking over the bodies of the fallen, as a foreboding silence followed.
_

Borbon and Siegfried approached, which caught Samkon and Lar's attention. They came over to try to get to know why the mole was approaching their prince, but Nosbub was already on the scene to excuse them. Numbat gave a surprised and angry look to Borbon as he kept his mouth shut. Borbon gave a cruel smirk to him, before turning his attention to Frankfort and gave a friendly nod "Yuo must be dut squirrel fulk, I hurd so much abut."

"I believe we did not have the pleasure to meet, and you are?" Frankfort asked, although his patience had worn thin with his continued argument with an increasingly contemptuous Numbat. "Burbun Rucklure, fught dum vurment fulk an's dur likes fur yeurs. Pleasure to meut yuo."

"I am honored then." Frankfort was no very sure, but he gave Nosbub an silent gesture for him to explain why he brought some random moles to his attention, even if well armed. Nosbub replied swiftly "My lord, these woodlanders have to my knowledge sought out to defeat the vile forces of this 'Gandal' and would most likely be helpful in defeating him."

Numbat continued his silence, his anger then became concern. He had no clue how Borbon would react if he knew about why they were evacuating to the north. Frankfort however was the first to inform him "Nosbub, we won't be defeating Gandal or his ilk any time soon, apparently, as we head north to deal with two different vermin hosts. Apparently."

Frankfort and Numbat had argued for some time, with the prince angry at Numbat for what he considered gross incompetence, and Numbat in turn being angry at Frankfort's arrogance and general attitude. Neither could agree except they had to defend Mossflower, but Borbon's eyes went wide and then squinted with horrible rage. He gritted his teeth and spat out "Whut?! Yuo bust be jokun, cause I hupe to nut hear yuo abandunen dur liukes of Gandul an' hus wretchud an' hatued horde!"

"All of Mossflower is under siege, and what happened. . ." Numbat paused, sighing before speaking in defeat "What happened in Banzlow had proven we are going to lose the south anyway if we do not deal with the northern threats first and foremost."

"Yuo wuld abandun Lurgar's murdurer an' let'um escaupe justice agun! Damn yuo, Numbat, yuo vile vermun filth! Yuo hud ample opportunities to deal wit dum likes of Gandul, an' yuo wastued dem all! Nuw you gonna abandun all dum woodlandurs?" Borbon could barely control his fury, but only calmed to ask. "Banzluw, whut huppuned."

"We found the village razed, good mole. Its inhabitants were slaughtered and unburied." Nosbub chimed in, his cruel eye on Numbat. Numbat kept his composure as he explained himself the best way he could. "Nurf Bloodkeep outwitted us, made us follow the trail of black clads while he. . ." He couldn't even bring himself to say what Nurf exactly did. Borbon was silent, but his eyes were full of rage and contempt for Numbat in particular. He turned to Frankfort and asked him in the most polite way he knew how.

"Squirrul, yuo lead dus army?"

"I do."

"I'd luike to joins it, if yuo deal wut Gandul first."

Numbat interjected "We have no time, we have to go north now. Before the vermin lay siege to bloody Redwall! Your daughter is there Borbon, you blasted wretch of a creature!"

"Redwull cun wait, Gandul cannut."

Frankfort put his paw to his face and slowly slid it, being frustrated with those around him. Yet, he couldn't help but agree with Borbon. He had come to deal with Gandal and his ilk, not to fight Mossflower's war. He turned to Numbat and made his decision "I will not let such atrocities in the village of Banzlow happen any further, and I order you and your Long Patrol hares to stay immediately in dealing with the likes of Gandal Blackfur as you had asked of us. Once we are done with him, and kill him, then we can deal with the likes of these other hordes. I must admit, commander Numbat, that this entire country grows further apart from me than ever, and I yet wonder how a hare like you even gets into command in the first place. Had any other beast been in charge, these vermin would have been run out entirely, not allowed to muster so closely."

Numbat gave a pause to such a speech, and closed his eyes, trying to keep back a vicious shout of anger. Yet, instead, he smelled something. The all too familiar smell of smoke. He turned, drawing his attention to the village, and then began to hear screams. Woodlanders were running around, some being trampled as they tried to escape, yelling about Gandal and Nurf. Frankfort watched closely, shocked as he soon saw Long Patrol hares fighting his soldiers. Numbat could see it too, unsure of what was happening.

He suddenly found a sword to his throat, held up by Nosbub who swiftly took Numbat's rapier from his belt and threw it aside. None helped him, even as Siegfried looked on with terror and tried to yelp for aid, but choked as the other Long Patrol hares were disarmed. Lars angrily shouted at Nosbub "Commander Nosbub, what on this green earth are you doing!"

"Those are his hares fighting our own down there, captain Lars. Under order of treachery, I am arresting him for betrayal." Numbat kept silent, but soon could not any longer. Several vermin who were trying to make it beyond the forests found themselves being hunted down by angry Southward forces. One weasel raised his paws in surrender, and was cut down for his efforts. He looked to see if any of those around him cared, but Frankfort only saw justice being delivered. "You must stop this at once! They are murdering innocent beasts!"

"Ah, so there we have it, my prince. This Long Patrol commander is even defending the vermin as they cause trouble, most likely these hares were given orders to even defend them! No doubt most of those beasts are spies and cohorts to these mysterious other hordes, perhaps to even lead them to their doom." Shackleford said with a hint of excitement, even as the slaughter became more pronounced. The Southward soldiers eventually relented, capturing the other vermin who surrendered, but not before beating them senseless for the effort.

Numbat looked to Shackleford and seethed out, even as Nosbub kept his sword to his throat "What manner of beast are you to say such stupid things!"

Shackleford smiled as if proud of his statements "An educated one, of course."

Frankfort spoke up, his voice cracked but still with his overbearing authority. "I've heard enough. Commander Numbat, you are now officially under arrest for gross incompetence of command and other crimes against good woodlanders. Lars, you are to place this hare, his Long Patrol, and these vermin under arrest at once. Nosbub, go back to your army and bring order to this rabble!" Lars did as bid, as Numbat did not resist. He was no longer even shocked as he kept a terrible and paused look at yet another burning village and mourning dead. He had seen enough, and perhaps wondered how worse things were about to be. Nosbub did as commanded as Frankfort looked over the whole troubled village, as the last remainder of the Long Patrol surrendered and the panicked woodlanders calmed. The trampled dead were everywhere, and all manner of embarrassing things had happened.

Borbon came up to the prince, and spoke up "Yuo duing dur riught thing."

"Seasons. I hope so." Frankfort had said with a quiver to his voice. He had come to Mossflower to help this Numbat battle Gandal, and now he was arresting him. He looked on with pity at the woodlanders, grieving their dead as his soldier brought swift order back to the village, organizing an effort to douse the fire. The two watched the efforts together in silence, not even noticing the sun setting and casting a shadow over the whole of Mossflower.

---

The next day had been a hard one to say the least, as Frankfort and his general set up their camp around the village of Marshreed. The woodlanders were horrified at what happened, and in their panic, there had been thirty seven deaths in total. Frankfort was surprised the number wasn't higher, but was informed otherwise that this was only counting non-combatants. The total number of deaths from this tragedy were nearly one hundred, including vermin lives taken in the fighting. Frankfort spoke to his general, he spoke to prisoners, he spoke to anyone who could give him a clue what happened and even he was confused. All he knew was that a scuffle had happened near the village center, and misdirection had caused a difficult situation to spiral out of control. The village had been used for refugees who were poorly organized in his eyes, but was only made aware the population became worse when Numbat ordered a march northward with what few forces he could. Numbat's general plan to drop off the villagers into safer communities in the deep forests was foiled.

Yet, Frankfort had pulled himself up to do a rather grim duty of his royalty and walked out of his command tent. Samkon awaited him, offering him a golden cloak to keep the chill of Mossflower's wind from shivering him. Frankfort took it onto him as he walked with his bodyguard.

"What a mess, Samkon. If my father saw me now, he'd probably disinherit me on the spot."

"Oh, don't say that, my prince. Hubert may be a mean ol' squirrel, but this wasn't our fault. Nosbub's investigation proves that."

Nosbub had informed the group that he had led the investigation personally, figuring that none of the professional troops of Southward, who were good beasts at heart, could not have done wrong. Kelsum didn't interject, only to say he had trouble following the fighting himself and could not speak of it much. "It still bothers me that this happened at all. Our soldiers should have known better."

"And so did the Long Patrol. If anything, this was clearly the vermin's fault, through and through."

Frankfort nodded in agreement as the two walked past the groups of soldiers in the camp, Frankfort spoke up to his friend with increasing concern to his voice "The village, how do they fare?"

"No well, my lord. Very few came out of this without injuries or bruises. The trampling did most of the work. Several youngsters were buried, and there will be a funeral later this afternoon."

"We will join them, I and Shackleford will pay our respects. However, I do need to be reminded that Shackleford only wished to go to 'observe the spiritual rituals', and with his flapping tongue I do not wish a pinch of salt on this massive wound."

"Of course, sir." The two continued to walk, being saluted by soldiers. As they approached their destination, Frankfort paused. He wondered if he was going a bit too far with what he was about to do, but collected himself. He was a prince of Southward, a great lord in waiting. He had to make harsh decisions and deliver justice onto the wicked. He was about to exit the camp, when Shackleford and his worried looking assistant awaited him at the edge. "My prince! Ah, I was wondering when you would arrive. Oh, I have so much more material I wish to tell you, even if I may lose my sources so quickly."

Frankfort sighed "I am afraid I am in no mood, Shackleford. This is a grim business, and I will not sleep well on it."

"I know this is most necessary, but be reassured that its audience must know how serious we are in our efforts, or they will lose our respect and attention! It is a grim duty indeed."

Horst spoke up "My lord, I am not one to speak up, but in front of small ones just doesn't seem all that right."

Frankfort didn't chastise him, even agreeing with him at first. Yet Shackleford spoke up "If you wish to save them from themselves, then it is my scholarly opinion that harsh action must be taken to show what we mean, and how we mean it. If we do not, I fear they will grow to be just as violent as the hooligans who destroyed Banzlow and caused this terrible tragedy in the nearby village."

Frankfort nodded in agreement, he trusted the scholar's words and reasoning, not having betrayed him thus far. He waltzed into a farther off field with his new found companions. The 1st army engineers were nearly done constructing gallows. Of the vermin prisoners they took, a good amount were to be hanged for the crimes of causing chaos in Marshreed. Frankfort was looking over the expertly built and makeshift gallows that would deliver a swift end to any beast. Yet, it wasn't the fact he was executing these prisoners that was his main concern, but rather the audience.

In front of the gallows was the odd conundrum which he and Shackleford debated in length. Most of the vermin had families, large ones at that. Most survived, but of their fate he and his commanders could not agree. Nosbub insisted they were perpetrators as bad as those he was going to execute, and offered to 'deal with them' elsewhere. Yet, morality won out; it seemed as Frankfort could not bring himself to deal such evil to such young creatures. Not all of them were youngsters, others were brothers and those who surrendered peacefully. Others were wives, and other loved ones. They were a mix of all ages, both the audience and the victims. Frankfort had no indication to believe these silent and dejected vermin would be capable of dispersing back to some unknown home to start their troubles again. He only hoped that Shackleford's insistence on appeasing their violent nature to tame them would spare them.

A graying rat with a black cloth around his arm was the first to be brought up with several others. The rat found it rather ironic, that a woodlander had not only thrown a javelin into his back, but then healed him, only to tell him he was going to be executed. He looked grim, even as the noose was tied around his neck by soldiers. He looked, seeing the horrified and begging faces of fellow vermin. He pitied them sort of, but mostly now pitied not having joined Gandal right about now.

Frankfort came to face the crowd and spoke up to them "I am Prince Frankfort of Southward, of the house of Squirrelking. I have come to this land to end the vermin threat, but now I am delayed due to this travesty that both you had caused, souring our campaign and demoralizing my troops. For this crime of blatant thuggery, banditry, and murder there can only be one punishment. Death. However, in the mercy of Southward and good beasts everywhere, we are not uncivilized. We will grant you mercy. Our mercy however comes at a price as we demand you civilize yourselves and tame yourselves to go past your violent nature and embrace the industrious future which is far more fulfilling than any form of banditry your people will fall into. It is why you will be staying with us as camp laborers for the remainder of the campaign and be given new stations to the aid of this army. I do not do this to you out of cruelty, but out of mercy."

Frankfort didn't expect a clapping ovation, but yet still frowned when the vermin gave him a mix of angry looks, frightened gazes, and confused stares. The northern rat looked down from the gallows, spotting his missus and his brood amongst the crowd. His youngest was frightened and horrified. He pitied them terribly, but could do nothing. He was still too weak from the terrible injury in his back.

Frankfort then turned to those he was going to execute "Any last words."

The vermin were silent, but the gray rat spoke up, speaking through pain he was already feeling. "Aye, I gots words to say."

Frankfort motioned for him to speak, and the rat seethed out. "I hope Gandal put yer head straight onto a pike. Cull an' kill, as me ol chief would say." He tried to spit in defiance only for it to miss. If Frankfort had any pity for them, he had none now. He motioned for the chief executioner to begin proceedings.

The rat gave one last look to his kin, silently begging them to survive and to be strong. He heard one final creaking crack, and dropped, and darkness overtook him.
_

Kelsum was in his tent, although he was not alone. One of the squirrels who was a refugee from the village was with him, a younger lad who Kelsum was showing around his tent. The squirrel was odd, with a noticeable burn mark which created a blackened eye that went his eye to his mouth. He had a weak and shaky figure to him, a little malnourished as he was utterly beside himself looking at Kelsum's tent. His former clothes, dirty and worn rags which he had been kept together by a rope belt were now on the floor, and his new yellow tunic and cloth leggings were quite comfy. "Now, if you truly are serious, you will be mostly keeping it how it looks right now. I'd prefer it if my sheets are well washed before I sleep with them, but one of my captains can show you the specifics on that."

The squirrel smiled, not at the thought of work or even the food he'd be receiving, but at other things that came to mind "Hare, if I may ask, how do you set up this bloody tent, eh?"

"You will refer to me as 'sir' preferably, and I will teach you in good time, young Kulmer."

Kulmer had never heard of so many interesting sights before him, almost wide eyed with excitement. Kelsum had entertained the squirrel's request, who had come to the camp to ask to be a servant for the army. Such positions were not widely brought up, but to see the squirrel's wide eyed amazement and willingness to help had warmed his troubled heart. He had been especially troubled by what was happening outside, and it tore at him how much the tragedy in the village had affected him. Kulmer was fairly young, likely in his late teens but felt more like a child then he did as an adult. He could notice Kelsum was looking distant and asked "Something the matter ha-, I mean, sir?"

"Oh. Nothing really, truly. Now, let me show you some other small details, preferable things." Kelsum was about to show his new servant another crucial piece of detail, but the hare was stopped when the tent flapped opened. Ginny stood there, looking heart broken and mortified. "Pa, this is insane! They are-"

"Ginny, please. You are a soldier in an army, not a child. Stand up straight, salute, and reverberate your speech in a proper manner." Ginny did so without question, but had trouble looking dignified. She had not even noticed Kelsum as she spoke up "Sir, I have troubles with our campaign at paw. I am bolly finding it difficult that we are arresting our own allies, and. . .and the vermin. . ."

Ginny had only heard what happened far after the fact, and was joined shortly thereafter by two hedgehogs. One was Banoff Herder, and the other was Gaslow. Gaslow usually held his pike tight to him, but didn't bring it into his tent. Instead, he was trying to calm Ginny down as he tried to speak to reason. "Ginny, this ain't necessary!"

"Not necessary, Gaslow?!" Banoff looked furious, anger rising as he looked accusingly at him. Only Ginny seemed to keep her soldier stance as Kelsum watched the show of two angry hedgehogs unfold.

"Our Prince just murdered those bloody vermin, and you say it isn't necessary?!"

"Murder, Banoff? Tis Justice as far as I can see it. Our soldiers did what was right, and-"

"You can call it bloody anything you want, but murder is still bloody murder! In front of small ones as well! This is an atrocity, a travesty!"

"The real travesty is what they started in that village!"

"With what bloody proof!"

"Enough!" Kelsum raised his voice and both hedgehogs stood at attention. Kelsum put his paw weakly to his face, gripping it to pause as he calmed to a more mellow mood. The entire tent was silent. Kelsum spoke up "Banoff, Ginny. I have heard your concerns and took them into consideration the moment it was even suggested in the command tent. I am aware of the troubles, and I am reassured that all that was done is necessary. Once the army reaches Palewind and settles, we will start a trial and begin the campaign without the Long Patrol's support for now, and begin making preparations to remove Gandal before heading north to deal with the main other vermin threats."

"Trial?" Ginny said, breaking her composure.

"Yes. Gross incompetence, and further crimes. Under Southward law on codes of conduct and governance. As loyal servants of Southward, you do not need to agree with these actions, only to obey what is expected of you. That goes double for you Banoff."

Banoff mumbled out something, but a swift glare from Kelsum shut him up. Kelsum continued "As for. . .what happened this morning, I made my feelings known and Frankfort took my advice rather than Nosbub's. Gaslow, I'd like you to gather up the vermin who are now in our camp, and put them to work specifically in the 1st army if you could. Preferably away from Nosbub. . .and Esmert in particular."

Gaslow nodded in agreement, for if there was one hedgehog he grew to despise, it was the arrogant Esmert. He asked "I understand, but if they get rowdy? Or violent?"

"I'd prefer they didn't. If Shackleford is right, they have been sufficiently frightened into what he calls 'tame'. I leave it to you to deal out such things." It was what little mercy Kelsum could provide. He had explicit orders not to let go of the newly made camp serfs. Gaslow nodded and left, leaving Banoff still flustered.

"Sir, may I speak up?"

"If it is about the subject of the vermin, the arrest of the Long Patrol, or anything else similar then no."

Banoff held his mouth shut and then sighed with defeat. Ginny looked mortified still, unable to contain her fearful gaze to her father as he tried to cheer them up "I promise you two, we will get better. No campaign ever truly goes well, with disaster around every corner. Bolly hell, during the Battle of Ganzgreg, the 5th army accidently charged straight into one of their own divisions! I know the prince can be a bit arrogant, and even simple minded. Let alone our constant dealings with the likes of the Black Twitch. You two are dismissed, and please, trust me."

They both nodded and went out of the tent. Kelsum sighed and sat slowly onto his bed as Kulmer came up close to him and tried to give that 'servant's bow' he was told about, holding his paws behind his back and standing up straight. He himself found the whole ordeal horrible, but yet it was also why he joined.

"Sir, may I speak up?"

"Good ahead, young Kulmer." Kelsum sniffed.

"I kinda wish you folk came much sooner. Had you folk been here from the start, I'd likely wouldn't be asken to serve you, and be still on a farm. Me ma and pa were murdered by raiders, vermin bandits who robbed us blind. I know me ma, if she were still here, would slap me silly to say this but them vermin folk deserved it."

Kelsum looked at Kulmer, but not with contempt at his blatant spite for the vermin. He pitied the poor lad, removed from his former life by a raid. He couldn't help but agree what he said was true, had Southward been in charge of these lands such evil wouldn't come to exist to start with. He did not thank Kulmer, but instead dismissed him for the day as he rested on his bed, thinking about how terrible the last few days had been. They haven't even faced this vermin army in battle yet, and they had betrayed their allies and caused more harm. He would say to himself that perhaps in time, the campaign would turn around for the better, something would give.

Then a courier came to his tent, asking him to go to the command tent immediately, for the prince had made a decision.
_

Kelsum entered the command tent, although the foreboding silence inside had caused him immediate concern. Frankfort was looking down at a map of Mossflower, with Nosbub and Shackleford to his side. Shackleford was enjoying a nice blueberry scone, and licking both his lips and paws in admiration of the taste. Guil and Vergber were on the other side of the room, looking at their prince with a mix of concern, looking particularly troubled. As Kelsum took his position, he was immediately flanked by Lars who spoke up to Frankfort. "The courier has been sent as ordered, my prince. Although, the pause before he went off has me concerned. Shall I send another just in case?"

"No. It won't be necessary, Lars." Frankfort shook his head, and looked up at the two hares in front of him. The squirrel prince looked tired, and a little less himself. He had spent much of the day dealing with a troubling number of smaller issues. The new found prisoners of the camp had to be stationed, fed, and kept secure. He had to organize and speak with the village elders who were now very mad at him. Several lizards who had been captured in the fighting had to be put down as well, and he had spent much of his evening during a funeral. Lars and Samkon had accompanied him, and it was clear that Frankfort had been thinking.

He had been thinking a lot.

"Kelsum, it is good you have arrived. Come and sit, we have much to discuss. We only await one more."

Kelsum wasn't sure what he meant. Gosland would have been the only other higher officer in the army that should have been there for this supposed meeting. Yet as he was about to speak up, a mole opened the flaps and came inside. Borbon Rocklore was now wearing a more finer yellow tunic underneath his usual heavier armor which he preferred to wear. Borbon was not accompanied by others, who he had spent much of the day arguing with.

Borbon was usually calm and collected throughout much of the day, meeting up with Tangran and Siegfried in private. Tangran had informed him that he saw a vermin attacking a southward captain after being told by Nosbub to go down and investigate the village for Gandal's spies. Had Borbon not been angry at Numbat, he might have even caught on that something was amiss. Now his spite was gilded with bright colors of new found fealty. Kelsum wasn't even sure who he was, as Frankfort introduced him.

"Kelsum, meet Borbon Rocklore, a hero in the war against Kasg the Craven. The former warlord who marched straight into Mossflower before, and was soundly defeated, the former chief of our new enemy. Borbon had just finished giving us details which has been much appreciated, and I could not have asked for a better source of information. However, it is now why I called you all here."

Guil spoke up first "Of course my lord, but are you sure this is the wisest course of action?"

Kelsum gave his prince a strange look, as he was apparently not in the know. Frankfort only nodded to Guil "I have thought it over, and with Shackleford I think the troubles which plague this land is now much more clear. Dealing with the vermin armies is no longer just our only concern, but the safety of our own realm and the realm of Mossflower itself."

Borbon was also apparently in the know, nodding in agreement "Yuo gut me hummar to back dut up, Frunkfurt."

"I am glad you are with me, an-"

Kelsum blurted out "My lord, perhaps you should inform me what your intentions are? I wish to know exactly why I am here, and what has been discussed in my absence."

Frankfort gave a silence to him and spoke up in an almost hushed tone. He spoke slowly and clearly, as if unsure if what he was saying he meant as either a devil's advocacy or dead serious. "Commander Kelsum, I've spent the better part of a day burying the bodies of one village, and to do so with the next. The troubles of this land, as I am now fully convinced, goes beyond that of just the vermin. There is no infrastructure, the defenses are almost purposefully weak in comparison to our own, and the land is infested with a race of bandits whose violence has caused the recent tragedy to unfold. I am no longer here as reinforcements for Mossflower, this is now a rescue expedition. For the people of Mossflower."

Kelsum's eye slowly widened with the realization of what Frankfort was trying to say. "My lord, what in the bolly hell is our objective then if not to help Mossflower?"

"A good point, good hare!" Shackleford perked up. Kelsum was growing tired of the mouse's constant interruptions and sudden new respect from the prince, as he spoke up his usual drivel "You see, we must not only ask as to what we are saving, but also who from. These vermin are clearly so violent that they cannot do much else but rob and kill, enslave and plunder because it is in their nature. So why then do they intermingle amongst common woodlanders here, yet are separate? Why do the Long Patrol protect them and even corral them? Tis a curious question I am but asking, but perhaps we are not looking at the bigger picture. We should be-"

Kelsum angrily interrupted him "Sir Shackleford, please. I wish to be in bed tonight, not the mid morning."

"Oh, I apologize. To be brief, if we are to save Mossflower, we must save Mossflower from themselves. This land is not our own, true, but it should be by all dictation of logic. Yet, they are not. Instead these people live in a backward time, an eternal dark age. I but suggested that we could help them along into a more modern world."

Frankfort put into even more basic words to give Kelsum a view of his thinking. "Our goals have not changed, we will continue on to Palewind and host a trial. However, we now have new objectives. Commander Kelsum, you and the 1st army are to spread the word that Southward is not only come to rescue Mossflower, but we are also here to stay."

"My lord. . ." Kelsum could not believe what he was hearing, looking on with utter shock at the prince. Borbon only added to the prince's speech "Oi, if yuo fulk are aus guud as yuo say yer are, dun count me an' me fulk in. I'll hulp spread dur wurd, must fulk knuw me arund dees purts. So lung Mussfluwer be safe an' snug, an Gundul is finaully buried three feut under, yuo gut me suppurt."

"Kelsum, I know this is not exactly an easy decision, but do hear me out. This land is filled with our people. Mice, otters, squirrels, hedgehogs, and so many more. They are the lands of our most beloved heroes, and it pains me deeply when this land is unsafe and full of dangers it should never have to deal with. Just as they saved us long ago from tyranny of the vermin, we should reward them with a better future then. . .then this." Frankfort almost looked distraught, losing his normal calm. He returned to it after a short pause, holding onto his own shaking paw. "This was not an easy decision, but even this land's people tire of this cycle of ceaseless war every few seasons, of raids and conquests by an enemy who seeks our demise. If an enemy wins here in Mossflower, then we have failed as a people to save them, and our failure could threaten our own homes. I ask you to keep true to my cause, for Southward, and for all good beasts."

Kelsum could see the room around him, but could not believe those within it. Lars seemed to be in full agreement, the battle hardened hare in his golden armor looked to see how Kelsum would react. Guil and Vergber looked at each other, having already given up and agreed. Yet it was Nosbub's snide smirk which gave Kelsum his doubts. He wondered just how much influence the Black Twitch had in this decision, but dared not say so out loud. Kelsum felt like the only sane beast in that tent, as if all of his comrades had decided to throw away the mask of their secret contempt and now laid it bare for all to see.

Frankfort spoke up "Commander Kelsum, your service in the 1st army is known, and so is your famed family. However, I cannot in good conscience allow my commanders to have second thoughts on this matter, but I will understand if you decline."

Kelsum closed his eyes, and breathed in heavily. "I am with you, all the way my lord."