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.

37. A Familiar Story

Chapter 36: A Familiar Story

Hesam and Vogar were pacing on the walls of Redwall abbey, with Hesam really now regretting his decision to have Yushag killed. His attempt to loosen up the ends of his deception had now brought him nothing but trouble, and the thought of the Skipper returning to interrogate him weighed heavily on his mind. He had an idea of what he would say, but he had no clue how much the skipper even knew. Was it the way he handled trying to steal the abbey's cutlery? Did he get caught red pawed? He didn't fully know, and not knowing made him shiver.

"Oh stop worrying you stupid round eared menace." Vogar spoke up, giving a light pat on his full belly. The two had just finished up a tasty meal in the abbey's great hall, and the friendly persona the two played was now slowly slipping away.

"Not worry? How can I not worry, you stupid long eared fool! We are in a tight bit of trouble. If that bloody water dog comes back, we'll be dead beasts for sure. You might not break, but what about me!"

"Then I will stick you in the night, wot." Vogat chuckled in a hushed tone. Hesma gave him a deadly look. Vogar ignored it mostly and spoke up "Look, I know full well that the Greeneyed Horde is going to make an absolute mockery of them fools. Naus is a proud glorymonger, and the vermin will give them a good kicking. Even if they don't, they will be up there for seasons! You bolly act like Mossflower is going to win against that tide of darkness."

"I mean, what if they do?!"

The hare rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance as his response to Hesam. The musical mouse continued to pace as he spat "We should have just stuck with our original scheme from the start, it feels like."

"You know full well 'he' had caught on, and even if he bolly didn't, he was just going to return to here an leave us to gnash our teeth outside."

Hesam regretted something, an old mistake he wished he had dealt with a long time ago. When all was said and done, everyone would come to know his crimes, but this one in particular he thought of would seal him as Mossflower's most hated mouse. Yet, the thought of living out his days in luxury in a realm of the wildcats was a lot more preferable than living in this impoverished land, begging and scavenging for his meals.

"Yes yes, I know, but we should be doing something! Maybe we can be a b-"

Vogar cut him off harshly "No! Not that again, you mucker! You already nearly got us caught once, and if Molgar was here he'd have you strung up. Just wait for the bolly wildcats to be at these gates, and then strike when these bolly gentle monks are distracted. Once Redwall is there's, then you can bolly loot whatever you like."

Vogar shook his head, as the two looked over the walls. It was afternoon, and the local birds had been singing their song. Below them, the vermin families were bickering with one another, or with the otter guard. The vermin would have been much nastier had not Stenna come out from time to time to growl at them. Hesam sighed, bored as ever as he worried a bit too much. He looked to the northern part of the forests, and saw a curious sight.

From out of the trees, several hares were rushing out, hares which he recognized. They were making their way to the abbey, banging on the door and shouting "Open up! Hurry! We have injured!" The monks opened the door, only to be nearly trampled as hares and otters began to rush into the abbey's courtyard. Garfan was his cadre of pretend soldiers who were also upon the walls, looking on with curiosity and then horror as the trees swayed with the coming army of Mossflower, barely organized as they rushed towards the abbey. Hesam looked below seeing a back up of otters and hares who pushed into the abbey, with them carrying a figure Hesam could barely see. He turned toward the courtyard, seeing Naus in a hammock, barely conscious as his captains rushed him towards Redwall's medical ward.

Garfan came down from the walls, yelling for Dakan "Dakan! Otters! Where is Dakan!" The mouse had not shown much in the way of fright, but now he looked on desperately as he abandoned his wards on top of the walls. Jase and Gaisen, along with their two bullies, were looking down in grim silence as the injured army made its way on in. Several otter pups rushed out to try to greet their warrior parents, only to be passed on by the warriors. Some began to slowly realize that some had not come back at all. The hares got into formation, quickly coming up to Garfan.

"Mouse, are you captain of Redwall, correct?"

"No, I mean kind of, I a-"

"You need to gather every beast you can! I need to find the abbot! Where is the abbot!" Garfan was pointed in the general direction of the abbey, and the hares again were yelling out orders. The vermin looked on with shock, as the once invulnerable hares they had once feared as peerless warriors were now limping inside the medical ward in droves. Stenna could be seen directing the monks to open the other gates, allowing more of the defeated woodlanders to burst through so they wouldn't trample one another.

"Dakan!" Garfan continued to call out, pushing past otters and hares. He spotted Pelma, who looked dejected and lost. The captain Papet was beside her, trying to comfort her in silence. Garfan pushed through the crowds, and came up to Pelma. "What happened? Where is Dakan!?"

There was a silence as Pelma gave the mouse a sorrowful and tear filled look. Garfan soon looked around, not spotting Kasser, and it dawned on him what had happened. Garfan motioned both her and Papet inside, leaving the chaos to be rounded up by the lesser Hare officers. The monks and others looked on, shocked at such loss they endured.

Vogar smirked and patted Hesam on the back "See, told you. It all bloody works out."

Hesam snickered, feeling a bit better as he looked around at the chaos below, not seeing Dakan nor his brood amongst the crowds, and relieved an angry otter had not come to him to shake the daylights out of him. Ah! Captured or fallen, it matters not. Thank the seasons! Hesam and Vogar took onto themselves their figurative heroic masks and went down below to aid the defeated Long Patrol.
_

By the time a majority of the woodlanders had settled, Marthomis and his monks were rushing down from their offices and libraries, gathering in the great hall. Marthomis was shocked, seeing neither Dakan nor any of his otters amongst the crowd of injured and horrified hares. Only one hare, a haress of a younger age stood in greeting and spoke with limited authority to Marthomis as he was barely able to even take his seat. "Abbot Marthomis, I am Lieutenant Colonel Marople De Fformelo Tussock under Naus's command. I apologize for his absence, abbot. He has sustained grievous injuries, and is alive." The hare was dressed in a more greener tunic with few metals, which indicated her age. Yet, the other hares respected her as she continued "Due to his injuries, my fellow captains and officers have elected me to take charge until our commanding officer returns to a functional health. Our. . .our other officers were. . ." She stumbled her words, but calmed herself after a short breath "Were slain."

Marthomis sat in silence, even as Stenna and others rushed into the room. Garfan was the last to arrive, lost in his own way as he entered the meeting as the hares began to lay out what had happened at Moss Field. Garfan listened, his anger boiling as he listened to Kasser's fate, how the rat Markem goaded the otters into a foolish and angry charge. The hares understood why the otters had done this, but others spoke up in grim amusement of Markem's tactics with a hint of respect.

"He forced us into a pitched battle, which he knew full bolly well he could win on a more even field. Knew how to goad us, wot." One officer remarked. Bollo and Kalma listened on in their own shock and sadness, especially Bollo at Dakan's demise. All had noted the otters had not joined them in this meeting, partly ashamed of their performance and partly in a crisis. Markem's victory now meant the vermin army was on the other side of the river, likely marching on top of or near their Holt. "I talked with Pelma Whitewhisker. Dakan is indeed confirmed dead, and Logis had been routed back towards the northwest. The vermin didn't pursue them however, and are heading here as we speak." Marople said.

Garfan left the meeting with disgust, angry that his friend was dead and his son murdered by a vermin who had gotten away with it. Now that rat was heading here. Marthomis finally arose and spoke up "This is most troubling times, more so now then any other. This abbey has withstood vermin of small and great bands alike, and it shall for so long as Martin and the seasons is still kind to us. Long Patrol, your thoughts. What must you do now?"

Marople sadly nodded "We have too many injured, and Redwall's safety is our top priority, we were able to escape with far less casualties the vermin likely wanted to inflict on us. The rest of the army will prepare for a siege here. If Tussock. . .my family's home. . ." Marople would pause and sniff, again trying to recollect herself "If the fate of Tussock is anything to go by, and Markem's history, he will assault the walls and try to breach Redwall. We have hares, but fewer archers I admit I wish we had, wot."

Stenna spoke up next, a weakness to her voice "But can holding out in Redwall win the war?"

"No, but reinforcements from Salamandastron can. If we can hold out, we buy precious bloody time. With your permission abbot, I will have my officers begin rationing immediately to make sure all beasts get a fair bite. We lost too many supplies, and if we are too succeed, we need to reduce our food to a minimum from the get go."

"I can help with that." Kalma nodded to her.

Marthomis weakly slumped back down in his chair. Oh seasons. It's starting all again! Please! Not in my lifetime. The dormouse could barely even speak and even tried to hold back anger and tears at the thought of yet another grisly war with the vermin. Stenna spoke up "The vermin we have inside. What of them."

"My hares can keep them in check if need be." Marople said "However, as a suggestion, even if it isn't popular, is to let them go now. If what Naus had said to me about these slavers is correct, no doubt Markem or some other band has something to do with it. It would give them a headstart and a chance if they started to head eastward."

Marthomis shook his head "No. We'll make room. They are Mossflower beasts just as you and I are, and no doubt none of them will wish to see their young conscripted into this rat's army. Letting them go will only endanger them just as much as letting them stay. I will speak to them personally, and try to calm their senses. I cannot in good conscience abandon any beast to the wilderness during such troubling times."

Stenna was skeptical, but remained silent along with the others. Marthomis spoke up to his senior monks "Now, if food will be an issue, then it shall be an issue. We will ring warnings and send out whom we can to gather from the farms before this vermin army arrives. How long do you think it will take them to get to us?"

"A week or more."

Marthomis nodded, looking at the tabard of Martin the Warrior, ever stoic on the walls of the brightly lit hall. He hoped that in such dire times Jue the Warrior would rush on through to help save the day, but he no longer had patience for hope. He kept staring, hoping for a sign to appear to him like it did long ago, but sighed in defeat when it did not come. He went outside, leaving the great hall empty.
_

Pelma had gone inside the abbey, a bit lost as she wandered aimlessly. The other otters were in a general panic. Her first journey brought her to the room where she and her brother had been staying in at Redwall as guests. Memories of better times had only made her more depressed, as she would sometimes try to imagine that her brother or father would come through some door, alive and well. She knew this was a delusion, and she didn't really know what to do. Papet had gone to comfort his own family, his missus and three pups who were worried sick for him. Yet, she had no one to return to. It dawned on her that she was the last Whitewhisker in the holt. She had weeped for days over the terror brought onto her by the vermin enemy, and in the loneliness of her quarters she would weep more in privacy. She pounded at walls, angry at the injustice done to her personally. She was angry her father was felled, and his body now laid in the hands of a rat.

It was a grim reality that the vermin no doubt would use this as a resource to some effect, which made her sick to her stomach. She heard tales of vermin taking grisly trophies of fallen victims, and no doubt no prize was grander than the skipper's head. She couldn't let this injustice stand, and angrily bursted out of her room with a new mission in mind.

To kill Markem Brownnose.

Still in her partly torn blue armor, filled with cuts and tears from the battle, Pelma had gained an unnatural speed as she collected a pack of javelinas and a sack for herself. She passed by others who gave her odd looks, some even trying to stop her as she made her way towards the kitchens. She was growing more obsessed, her mind dedicated to a single task of ending the rat's life and avenging her kin. She made her way into cavern hole, and into the kitchens, stacking as much food without care into a sack.

As she turned, she froze as Papet was there in the doorway, blocking her way.

"Mam?" Papet asked. Pelma felt a bit ashamed as she shouldered her sack behind her as she spoke up to the captain "I know what it looks like, but I need to go. What happened to Pa. To Kasser. I cannot let that go."

Papet came forward and held her paws in a comforting way "Mam, I know. However, I don't think either Dakan or Kasser would want you to throw your life away, even for their sake. I know you be angry, I can see it right in your eyes. Same fire your pa had. I also don't think they'd want you stealing from the abbey's kitchens either."

Pelma sighed in defeat, knowing Papet was right. She slid her sack from her back and carefully put it onto a preparation table, spilling out some crumbs of bread and veggies. Pelma looked longingly at it as she spoke to Papet, a rising fury in her voice "I always knew them as cruel, relentless, horrible beasts Papet. This? It's nightmarish. What manner of evil beast murders their own prisoners like that in front of their father?"

"Vermin, mam." Papet spat. Pelma thought it was a silly question to ask, her father had spoke nothing but ill things of the vermin, a cowardly people who'd rather murder and torture peaceful beasts for sheer sport. She wondered openly to her fellow otter "Why. Why do they do this to us? I still do not understand it, why do they come down from the north and out of the west and east to murder and enslave us? Is there even a reason?"

"No one, not even the vermin themselves, likely know." Papet sighed "Mam, I do not wish to pry, but i've come to collect you."

Pelma looked curiously at her fellow otter as Papet attempted to explain. "Dakan was me skipper, and his son was a good friend of mine and many captains. The Whitewhiskers did us proud in times before, and now are a lot like a snake without it's h-" Papet stopped himself, realizing it would be perhaps folly to use that example "A ship without its rudder. Tis what I mean. The other captains, in our eldest traditions, are going to hold a vote soon."

"Papet, I am neither a captain nor much of a warrior, let alone even a good sailor. Why would the others wants me to vote for the new Skipper?" Pelma was not well versed in the politics of the holt, but Papet kept silent which only prodded at her curiosity. "Perhaps tis I best show you."

Papet and Pelma exited into the cavern hole, where much to Pelma's surprise a number of otter captains and warriors were all gathered. Some were still nursing injuries from the battle, and had asked their companions to wheel them down for a private meeting. The other captains gave a humble nod to Pelma as she was taken by Papet towards a circle. In times of crises, the holt would make decisions via vote, a little tradition they had gotten from the friendly shrew rivals.

Yet, Pelma could see some odd signs. The other otters looked just as lost and angry as she was. They had lost loved ones to Markem during the battle, or had been given the grim duty of telling other otters that they would not be seeing another creature again. One captain was especially heartbroken, having had to bring several orphaned pups up to Stenna, since the tribe's current mothers could not afford to take in more. They were all looking at Pelma, making their judgements. Papet began the meeting with a roll call, as each captain specified their rank and name within the clan. Pelma was last as she said "Pelma Whitewhisker, daughter of our. . ." She paused and breathed out in a laden voice "Our previous skipper, Dakan Whitewhisker."

One captain spoke up, unable to hold back his anger "A shame! A pox on Markem Brownnose and his entire wretched horde!"

Another next to Pelma spoke up in Dakan's honor "Our skipper was taken before his time, and his son too. May the seasons have mercy upon us, for those we have lost that day. Kasser especially, he would have made a fine leader he would."

Many were in agreement as this talk only made Pelma more depressed. Papet spoke up next "Captains of Mossflower Holt. The tragedy at Moss Field will live with us for a long while, but we cannot let sorrow overtake us now while the enemy trails us. Now is the time, to make a decision on who will lead us as Skipper. I was, next to Kasser, Dakan's 2nd paw on many affairs as you know. However, I would like to suggest something a bit unconventional." Papet turned to Pelma, as she widened her eyes.

"Pelma Whitewhisker, your pa was respected by all of us. We know you are not the most experienced in matters, but we can help. We followed your pa, and would have gladly followed your brother. Now we ask for you to become the skipper to lead us. To protect and guide the holt through this crisis."

Pelma was shocked, trying to keep herself from dropping her jaw. She was quick to remind Papet "I am honored, but can the Skipper only be male?"

One captain spoke up "Aye, but we all talked it over before paw. Tis not right what happened back at the battle, and many of us while experienced aren't very much ready to be the skipper. We were hoping that Dakan had rubbed off on you. You may be a missus, but the clan cannot afford to keep to the old rules as once did." Pelma could see her fellow otters looked desperate, but yet hopeful. They were looking to her to lead them, to command them to do something smart. She had very little in the ways of ideas, but their previous reassurances to help her along gave her confidence.

There was a long pause, and Pelma eventually let out a nod "So be it then, as a vote, I will ask to be Skipper."

There was no real vote, as no other asked to ascend to the mantle of skipper. The otters raised their paws to signal their approval. No paw amongst them was held down, as Papet was the first to raise his paw to give their new skipper confidence. Pelma smiled the first time since returning to the red walled abbey. There was no ceremony for her nor a symbol of authority, they only referred to her as Skipper, and she was proud. She hoped that wherever the spirits of her father and brother laid, that they could see her now.

The pause of triumph was met with an awkwardness. Pelma fumbled a bit as she spoke "I will do beyond what I can to lead us, but I will ask you all this. What are our options, how do we defeat the vermin?"

Papet was the first to speak up "Staying in Redwall is one option, where we can help defend the abbey against the main vermin enemy. However, we would be putting more than just our families at risk. Our warriors need food, and so do the hares. Its a bit unconventional, mam, but we should head back to the holt to regroup."

"Regroup at the holt?" Pelma asked. She didn't suspect Papet to be so homesick or a coward, but listened intently to his advice "Moss Field was not our strongest terrain, the vermin proved that they can win a pitched battle against us. We all specialize in hit and run tactics, much like the hares, picking off enemy scouts and ambushing their forces. The vermin army is massive, true, but they cannot defend everywhere at once. Out in the forest and on the river, we can do far more damage to the enemy and even delay them. We must also remember, Logis and his shrews are also still out there. If we can get them back into the fight, we can establish a better offense against the vermin and hit them where it hurts."

Some of the other captains murmured, but Pelma spoke up to them "Papet is right. We will retreat to our holt, before the main vermin army is already upon Redwall. We can regroup with our fellow otters still there, and make sure our families are safe. We need to do as much damage to the vermin flank, and help the redwallers."

The other otters nodded, in agreement that someone could give them orders. Pelma turned to Papet and smiled "Papet, I hope you know what you are doing. I ain't neither me pa nor brother."

Papet smiled back "I know, skipper, but I got faith you will see us through this. Shall I tell the others of our plans?"

"No. I will. You gather the other families and get them ready to move out. You have five days at best to prepare, since the vermin army is so far away. Get our food, tents, and weapons ready and say your goodbyes. I need to collect me Pa's things. . .and Papet?"

"Yes Mam?"

"If I got any questions and concerns. Can I just come to you?" Pelma was still anxious as Papet reassuringly patted her shoulder "Mam, I think you'll make a good skipper. I'm with you all the way, for Dakan and Kasser both."
_

Pelma was outside the doors of the central abbey, looking out over the walls. The last few days had been hectic and troubling for her to say the least. Taking on the new responsibilities of skipper was not easy, as she and the other captains had planned out their evacuation from the abbey. She awkwardly gathered the Long Patrol officers and the senior monks to tell them of their intentions, who were supportive of her. Pelma and Marople had been making their plans to coordinate the defense of Redwall in their own ways, and the plan they came up with was risky, but could keep Markem from taking Redwall before a bigger army led by the badger lord arrived.

Marople was confident she and the Long Patrol army could hold Redwall from the main bulk of the vermin forces, its strong walls and secure position was a lot easier to defend then Tussock was. With an entire army of Long Patrol, even if at slightly above half strength as it was now, the main army could hold out so long as they could keep their food stores in check. With Pelma and her otters gone, that food trouble would be a little more manageable, but not by much. Pelma would occasionally see new faces in Redwall, as the bells tolled warning for much of the past few days. Those who could make for safer villages and towns would do so, but those who could not were flooding into Redwall. This brought many new families of all kinds, but also militias who were eager to figure out the troubles and to be informed of the vermin presence now marching on them. They would add their number to Redwall, a much needed reinforcement in such dire times.

Pelma part in this plan was a little more complicated. Marople had figured that Markem's army was massive, and would likely grow as it marched south and attracted more vermin to its cause. That size could be Markem's bane, as Pelma was directed to have her otters raid and retake the river as soon as they returned home. Markem's army was well supplied, the rat had enough slaves and tributaries to keep his army fed and healthy, and the veteran hordebeasts under him were becoming experts in logistics. Dismantling Markem's supply trains would be crucial to defeating him, and delaying him. Marople thought that it was likely to draw Markem's ire if the otters smashed up the vermin outposts and freed the villages from his control, which would hopefully cause a chain reaction of Markem's hordebeasts becoming reckless or less loyal to their chief.

How well this would work also depended on another factor; finding and regrouping with the shrews. Logis and his shrews did very well, and suffered the least in the battle, having nearly (and personally) smashed through the enemy lines on their right flank. Getting the shrews to raid alongside the otters could keep Markem at bay. Pelma was worried about another failed battle, but was given confidence by the hares. "Markem won in a pitched battle, but no vermin has ever won their battles of wit and skirmish. They are bloody fighting on our own terms now, and we won't give him the next chance to beat us."

Pelma would evacuate in groups, the otter families and non-combatants would go first while the going was safe and could keep clear of the main vermin force which was heading towards them. The main otter force of warriors would remain and go last, as Pelma took count of her remaining warriors. Her people had suffered some intense losses, but the holt still had warriors back home which could refill her numbers.

"Ah. I thought I'd find you out here." Pelma listened and turned, almost in surprise as she saw a depressed looking Marthomis walking out of the abbey.

"Oh. Abbot Marthomis. Can I help you with something?" Pelma said with a weak smile.

"Oh, nothing, I just wished to speak in friendly terms with you Pelma. Ever since the otter declared you skipper, you have been quite distant."

"I must admit, being the skipper is hard work for sure, but I've been getting plenty of help."

"Perhaps you'd like a nice cup of tea, you certainly look like you need it."

"Oh no, me Pa could u-" Pelma stopped herself and frowned. This had perhaps been the third time in the last few days she had mistaken her kin for being still around. It was embarrassing the first time when a captain had asked for instructions, only for her to direct him to finding Dakan. Marthomis gave her a friendly pat "Like I said, a good cup of tea would calm your troubled nerves."

"I'd love to, but I wished to be out in Mossflower as soon as possible. We have heard no word from Salamandastron in days, and apparently even weeks. I am going to try to help in the only way I know how. That rat cannot get away with what he did, abbot."

"I'm certain you will make sure of that. You mustn't concern yourself too much with our troubles, my good Pelma. I know the burden of leadership is not for all beasts, and for it to be thrusted onto you is a tragedy. Dakan and Kasser were good friends, and good beasts at heart. You must care for your people, skipper Pelma, first and foremost. I am told that going off troubles you, and I understand your concern more than most. However, you mustn't put your people in harm's way, even for the likes of us."

"Whatever do you mean abbot?" Pelma sounded concerned, but Marthomis let out a deep sigh "It would break my heart to see any beast in the midst of war, and your people have suffered a tragedy most foul. I know your father well, and I know the fire that burned in his heart will burn in yours. I used to have such a fire myself in my younger years, but I learned that nothing good has ever come following it. As my previous mentor would say to me 'you must think before you act'. Promise me Pelma, even if this abbey falls, you will keep your people safe, even if you must flee Mossflower to do so."

Pelma looked at Marthomis as if he was mad, although she could at least understand him. The Redwallers were truly peaceful beasts at heart, and spoke up to him. She could see the fears she had also affected him. "In good conscience I can never abandon Mossflower, abbot. I will take your advice to heart, but let's not say we are already defeated. We still have friends in the mountain." She smiled to reassure the elderly dormouse.

The day was growing a bit darker as clouds came overhead, an odd sight for when it was such a sunny day not too long ago. The gloom was followed by something else, yelling from the walls. Pelma and Marthomis watched as several hares with bows were scaling up the walls, and Pelma soon joined them.

In the distance, far into the field past the main road, a couple woodlanders with carts were passing by but were soon hurrying their pace. A hare, who was dodging and weaving had come out of the forest and made a wrong turn, and was now heading towards the front gate of the abbey. Following him closely were four vermin warriors. One threw a javelin at him, missing as the vermin kept up their chase. The hare ran for his life, panting and huffing as the vermin drew closer. Only a few arrows fired at the vermin in warning prevented them from coming closer to the abbey. The vermin sneered, but seeing so many hares on the walls, fled back into the forests.

One of the hares looked concerned "Those didn't look like scouts to me, wot."

The hare who they had been chasing was not a courier as he rushed into the abbey, shouting "Naus! I need Naus Stag Horn! Where is he! Warning! Bloody Warning!"

The hare was out of breath as Marople and some other officers came out to see what was happening. Pelma was coming down off the battlements as Marople looked surprised. "Wizbag? The bloody hells you doing here?"

"Oh seasons! I have come to find Naus!" the hare shouted "We need his reinforcements, oh, we need them now! I bolly nearly rammed right into a massive vermin army on the way here!"

Pelma quickly spoke up "Army? How close was it?"

"Only a few bloody hours away!" There was a silence at first as Marople called out "Tell the bell ringers to start ringing those rotting bells! Everybeast needs to know! Hurry!"

"Mam?! Where is Naus!" The hare said desperately.

"Naus is. . .injured. I am in charge, wot."

The hare looked horrified "I have news from Salamandastron. A vermin army from the western sea has come to our shores, we are being bloody invaded! They are raiding the western villages. The other Long Patrol members are regrouping, but we were hoping to find Naus! The other Long Patrol outposts and camps, we are all regrouping. . ." The hare looked like he could pass out. Marople was holding her paw in terror to her mouth, as now the worst case scenario had come to pass.

Pelma was mortified herself and quickly spoke up "Me and my warrior will stay, we will help fend off M-"

"Pelma, you must go." Marthomis asked her. Pelma turned to Marthomis, who looked like he was pleading. "Your otters will need you, especially now. Go, and be swift. Before it is too late." The bells began to ring out in warning. An endless chime of ringing bells hurried the pace of woodlanders. Pelma gave one good look to Marthomis and called out to her otters. Abandoning some of their gear, the Mossflower otters gathered what they could and fled through the north gate and slipped out into the forests. The distant sound of banging drums and a vermin war horn could be heard in the distance, the cold wind picked up as it blew across the abbey.

Markem was coming.

---

For many beasts in Markem's horde, it was their first time ever staring up at the walls of Redwall Abbey. Markem's army was coming down from the forests in the direct north rather than the northeast. By mid afternoon, the entire vermin army was marching in sight of the abbey, and began to pitch tents and wave banners. Their intentions were clear as the Great Vermin Band could be heard singing and chanting their war songs.

Kill and pillage, ruin and rum

It is the life of vermin scum

From the forests with horn and drum

We come! We come!

Raising spears, heads on pikes

Axes in our paws of might

From the fields we march in line

And bring down our metals on the swine!

We Come! Oo We Come!

Surrender now, for be forewarned!

We will spare not a single one

When our banners wave from yon high

You'll regret the day wit tears in eyes!

We come! Oo We come!

The vermin sang to demoralize the woodlanders, some of which they could see were fleeing in desperation towards Redwall Abbey. Some were immensely unlucky, being caught by the vermin as they bumped into a huge division of them. Yet, under Markem's demands, they were turned around from the horde and sent back to their villages under vermin escort. Some Redwallers like Garfan and Marthomis were on the top of the walls, looking down in depressed terror at the massive size of the army. No army in recent memory has ever come into view, as even the southern fields were crawling with vermin soldiers. More depressingly enough, the slaves of the horde were now pitching tents and unloading supplies in mass. Some hare could even recognize fellows and peers who had been captured from their defeat, now under the watchful eye of their overseers.

Markem himself would gaze onto Redwall's backside from the forest, fairly close to get his first look at the brick abbey. 'Dirt' and Scarl were beside him, although both had very different responses. Scarl wasn't impressed at all, he was actually a bit disappointed. This is the abbey of legend, huh? It won't last even a day, I bets. Yet, 'Dirt' was looking up in total amazement and wonder. He had never seen such fortifications in his life. Markem spoke up to his two companions with a mix of his own feelings "So. Dis be Redwall, huh."

"Aye. It is, chief." Scarl shrugged "Well, it be certainly red, dat be fer certain. Walls are high, a lot higher den dat of Tussock, but a couple good ladders an' a battering ram will put em down real quick."

Markem nodded "A lot of vermin assaulted dis place in legend, an failed to take it from dem monk folk. Now we gotta take it from de Long Patrol, an deal with any reinforcements from Salamandastron. The scouts reports seem lacken, Scarl. Dey say der ain't even been a whisper from the west. Whats yer take on dat?"

"Eider we got bad scouts, which I doubt. Or, der badger lord be plannen somethin. I'll find out soon enough. Me spy in der shrew camps sent me another report, shrews fled far out in der northwest, towards Juska territory to lick der wounds. If dey move on our supply wagons, we'll get fair warning."

"What about the spirit of Martin?" 'Dirt' said in a friendly tone, as if a joke. Markem grunted and shook his head "Spirits or no, it ain't gonna stop us from taken the abbey by force if need be. If we even need a battle at all. However, we gotta surround der abbey quickly befer they get an idea to escape. If dem Long Patrol or otters get out in der woods, we'll be tearing out our own fur tryen to hunt em down."

Scarl gritted his teeth and breathed in a bit of embarrassment at the mention. Markem turned to him to see what his spymaster was troubled at as Scarl mentioned to him "Dink it be a bit late fer capturing dem otter folk, Markem. Looks like we missed em by a few hours. Two groups left it seems, at least dat is what me scouts tell me. Some of dem Jusbrag boys went lookin fer dem, but got a bunch of javelins fer der trouble."

Markem shook his head "No doubt they will head fer the river, back to der holt. If dey become hostile, dey won't find much to raid on since we got guarded supply wagons an couple o' decent walled off ferries along der river. Just hope dey be wise enough to keep low."

"If dey abandoned de abbey, Markem, den they are most assuredly hostile. Shall I send a part of the force to root em out?"

"Later, once we figure out an' take dis place." Markem shouldered the shield to his back, walking with his bodyguard towards the main army tents at the field in the south. Scarl kept an eye on the abbey, smiling to himself. Oh boy, I cans see it now. Redwall fallen to me designs. Like to see dat ancient ol' wraith try to outsmart me!
_

Jarolom and Niala stood at the forest edge much in the same way as Markem had been, their respective hordes were pitching camp nearby as their slaves and vermin began to set up tents and collect firewood. Jarolom had his vermin and slaves together digging ditches, as the group sat uncomfortably close to be near the range of a hare's shortbow. Everyone was looking up at the wall. The silence of the group was broken when Taban spoke up with an arrogant tone "Heh. I've seen better."

Everyone began to turn to look at the gray wildcat in a slow manner, not very much appreciating his comment. He silenced himself as they returned their attention to the mighty walls. Jarolom and Niala were in awe of the legendary monastery, one which held firm against all manner of conquerors and raiders. Even those who breached into its halls had fallen to misfortune and defeat. Jarolom nor Niala believed in curses, but Murg who had been next to Niala seemed skittish "Oh, dat wall be given me der creeps! I swears, if I sees a ghostly mouse, I'll be in me tent fer the rest of season!"

Taban was ill informed and spoke up "Ghost mouse? Ya scared of some ol' wraith?"

"Tis not any ol' wraith. Taban, I thought ya knew of Martin the Warrior an' his ol tales?" Taban and Jarolom only partly knew one another already, mostly meeting in brief when Niala had come down from the north to mourn their father's passing. Niala had only briefly mentioned him in passing, but the remaining march to Redwall had Jarolom conversing with the mercenary cat. "No. I mean, we have tales of beasts like myself you see, strong warriors an' all. No tales of silly dead workbeasts."

Wulvog looked at him and asked "Yulfang wishes to know, who are you?"

"Who is Yulfang?"

Niala interjected just in time before the two large vermin would engage themselves in awkward conversation. "That isn't important. Taban, this is Wulvog. Wulvog, this be one of me closer northern mates. Markem hired him to be wit us, so do keep yerselves in good order, alright?" Taban dropped his question as he shifted uncomfortably next to the wolverine, the tall and imposing beast was nearly looking down at him with some discontent.

"Hells. If Pa could see us now Niala." Jarolom said with pride "Leaden an entire bloody horde to der walls of Redwall itself, eh?"

"Maybe. Pa liked to be sneaky, ya know dat."

Jarolom nodded in agreement, but frowned nonetheless as he gave an odd look to his sister "So. About dat trouble out der. I heard ya nearly got yerself got. By a slaving band was it?"

Niala felt embarrassed, but Taban spoke up in her defense "To be fair, Jarolom, twas for a good cause. Besides, she dispatched dem pretty well, even without me timely intervention."

Wulvog was confused, not well informed as to what had happened. He listened on in as Jarolom spoke with concern to his fellow vermin peers "Taban, it ain't normal. Cats haven't been seen in dis wood fer a long time. Ya know anythin about all dat?"

Taban shrugged "Likes I said to your chief, fox. I know only a few western cats. Had less of an accent den others I'd know. I don't fully know they were even western cats, but a wildcat amongst dem and that armor definitely seems familiar."

"Aren't you a wildcat?" Jarolom asked. "I am, fox. Me masha and pasha were both western cats themselves, but I grew up in the north. I only knew a few, and from how me pasha described it, twas a land of sand, dirt, and endless plains. Also not a happy land, filled with war and murder which me pasha escaped from. Preferred living in a mud hut den dat place. Although it be odd, western cats I hear don't really bother coming over here, let alone care much. The face branding also seems a bit. . .odd."

"Odd how?" Murg chimed in, a bit fearful of her possible fate had Taban not been on his hunt. Taban put his paw to his lips and thought "Western cats got slaves, sure, but I don't remember branding being part of them rituals. They are lot like the Reich in the west, they know we are here, but view us as too poor to trade with. They got slavebeasts of their own back home, plenty from how masha used to describe it. So for a slaving band to be here speaks more of desperation. Also the color dumbfounds me."

Jarolom and Niala looked a bit concerned at one another, the whole ordeal perplexed them. It was only made much worse with the knowledge they both came to know via Scarl. A lot of vermin holes near Redwall were empty, some very recently. The scouts were finding odd tracks and broken down camps all over the forests near the abbey, and reported back of morbid sightings. One of Jarolom's own scouts came back with a sack of the skeletal remains of a ferret, whose body had likely fallen some time ago, still having rusted manacles attached to its paws. That body was given a proper funeral at least. Niala spoke up "Dat Scarl bloke, he mentioned he interrogated some of dem Long Patrol prisoners we got now worken on dem ditches, asken dem about all dat. Dey didn't even know." It gave Niala a shiver.

Wulvog grunted in annoyance "I don't get it, what is the problem anyhow? If they got to hide from you, they are bad warriors."

"Well, if they can get past the Long Patrol without notice, den they can sneak into our camps no problem." Niala said "Not that I wish to think of it."

"Then don't sleep. Easy." Wulvog said a bit proud of his great intellect. Not everyone was in agreement, and ignored his comment. Jarolom continued to look up at the wall and spotted some vermin faces looking down as well. Some of whom he even recognized. "Looks like some our folk are in der." Jarolom gave a friendly huff "However, doesn't explain one thing. Why those green folk after vermin, and not proper workbeasts?"

Taban cringed a bit, a bit too loudly, and seemed to know something. Niala prodded, as Taban tried to explain the best he could "I might know, but tis not something you can quote me on. To cats, especially like me pasha, anyone who ain't a cat is considered a workbeast in their own way. I know a lot of stouts in the lands across the sea, slaves in all but name I hear. If they are capturing vermin folk, then it's for only one real purpose I think. To conscript them."

"Gutan says the homes they found weren't burnt. You usually burn out the homes so the families don't got anywhere to return to when they get kicked into the horde. Why leave them pillaged then?"

"Maybe secrecy, or my thinking is they are confident their new slavebeasts won't escape anytime soon."

"Sounds horrible." Murg said with a shiver, although some of the working woodlanders next to her setting up a tent gave her angry looks before returning to their work. As Wulvog, Murg, and Taban went out to build their own tents, seeing as they would not be going anywhere anytime soon, Jarolom and Niala continued to look up at Redwall. A glint of pride was in Jarolom's eye as he spoke with a new confidence "Niala, when we take dis place, ya keep yer paws off Martin's sword ya hear? I want it."

"Ya can have it, so long as ya show it off to mum."

Both chuckled, going into their respective horde's camp to settle down for the coming siege.
_

The vermin army had fully surrounded the abbey and kept a good distance away from it, menacingly pitching their tents and having a legion of camp slaves digging ditches around the abbey. The Long Patrol hares were both shocked and impressed just how well this vermin horde was organized, as it was very swift and professional. They had been used to disorganization of vermin gangs and hordes, even Kasg's supposedly professional force was infamous for scattering a huge number of tents and lopsided structures which more resembled a typical barbarian war camp then a true army. Markem's horde was different by milestones, one which concerned the hares immensely. Markem's army set up a wide berth of tents in both the field and forest, with wagons which had housed specialized materials for the building of small wooden watchtowers to keep a bird's eye view over the outer camp. Each respective horde of the division camped together, with captains trading soldiers to refill the ranks of lost vermin. The hares could spot a lot of different and select areas of the war camp which interested them, such as a series of larger tents which the scent of delicious food could be smelled from. One tent was set up for the rationing of officers, another for common vermin who didn't cook for themselves, and another for the slaves. The camp had its own training ground, a hospital, and a protected silo of food which was closely guarded by some of Markem's most elite soldiers. Some Long Patrol officers had dropped their jaws when they learned that their usually dirty and lazy enemy even had stations for grooming and a large outhouse.

The vermin could have set up a small city if they wanted to around Redwall, but their intentions were clear when hares heard the unmistakable felling of trees. The ditches the slaves were digging around the abbey were to provide cover and a hiding spot for when the vermin launched their inevitable assault. If they attacked now, they would come from four sides. All shipments of food were restricted from entering the abbey, and curious beasts who ended up coming too close to Redwall found themselves explaining themselves in front of a vermin captain. An example of this happened to Markem when a field mouse family who had traveled from the far north to trade some grains to the Redwallers had accidentally stumbled into the vermin camp. They thought it was a surprise festival at first, only to realize their mistake when they passed some slaves and vermin and tried to turn around swiftly. Markem did let them go, but only after forcing them to sell their grain to him at a fair price. These small events would happen throughout much of the day, taking up time Markem wanted to use to rest up and socialize with his vermin.

Yet, as the night came to pass, the vermin army settled down to sleep and socialize. Some vermin tried to get a quick start and assail the walls early, but a volley from the Long Patrol sent them back with considerable injuries. Orders were given to keep a hold on getting too close to the abbey, but the time came at night for Markem to do his most dreaded task which he hated.

"We must wait a week, I will not assault the abbey while the signs are poor! We need time for ladders to be built, you idiot!"

"Ya flea bitten, dirt munching, water snake! We should be skirmishing an keepen dem Long Patrol on der ropes! We gots der numbers, an ya got da bow beasts! Ya a coward, or worse?"

Markem was standing beside 'Dirt', both were cringing a bit as the respective warlords who gathered in his personal pavilion in the late night were yelling and arguing at one another. Kylan shot up with a vicious snarl "Tis der best way we do a siege, we bribe dem workbeasts in der to open the gates an we rush on in! I gots a fox ya sees, who can sweet talk dem vermin we saw on der walls."

Hazul was furious, slamming his paws on the table "You may not believe the stories, but we must wait a week before we siege this place, for preparation!"

"We already are prepared!" The fat weasel boasted, he was joined in by Lusket who snickered "Ya, Hazul. We gots a hundred arrows fer each beast in dat abbey, babe an' all. Not dat we will use it on dem. We could take der abbey now, and be on our way to Salamandastron!"

Hazul shot up in his rare anger, usually a calm and collected rat most of the time. He was frustrated and pointed a paw accusingly at Kylan "You'd have half your own horde killed to take this abbey, and even then you will not take it! I must prepare a powerful spell you see, to ward off the spirit of the abbey, the same one who time and time again had defeated the likes of every warband who came here!"

One of the Bloodrack rats spoke up next, speaking on Hazul's defense "Besides, even if you do not believe in such things, ya are a fool to think that them gentlebeasts will give you an easy time! These are hares, not squirrels or damned mice. They are smart, with reflexes like lightning, and hardness of the sea!"

"Oh I know der sea better then you do, you hyped up northerner scum!" Lusket angrily spoke up. The other warlord bickered and argued, but Markem took comfort at least it was over tactics rather than respective loot. He and 'Dirt' gave each other sympathetic glances, knowing each other's personal distaste for all the verminous arguing.

"Quiet!" Markem finally shouted in frustration, and everyone silenced themselves. Markem gripped his head and then looked down at a crude map drawn up by the horde's scouts detailing the main walls and buildings of Redwall itself. "Redwall may be a place of gentle beasts, but dem gentle beasts have won out against terrible odds before. I'd be more confident if we didn't know dat der otters are now back out in Mossflower along with the shrews, and an entire Long Patrol army is defenden the walls."

Hazul interjected once again, being firm to remind everyone of the elephant in the room "Let us not forget it is defended more than by flesh and bone."

Markem wanted to ignore the comment, but he honestly couldn't. He was no believer in ghosts, spirits, or anything of that sort. Hazul insisted on a week long ritual to 'lessen' the spirit of Redwall to assure victory, a move which Markem found dumb. What was equally dumb was Kylan's view of war. It dumbfounded everyone how the fat weasel was as insistent as his sorcerous rival to throw vermin at the walls. Markem finally spoke up, and the warlord died down their voices to listen to their respected warchief.

"Now now, save yer anger for the gentlebeasts. Kylan, as much as ya are appreciated in dis horde, we cannot just throw our hordebeasts at der walls like others had. Starving em' out however will be costly. We'd likely be here fer seasons before dey give in, an' we cannot ferget the badger lord won't be sitten in der mountain ferever. When we are ready, we'll assault Redwall with the full force of our army, but we gotta be smart about it."

Markem pointed to the northernmost walls first "We don't know der precise height, but we'll need to make extra long ladders. Tussock was supported by earthworks, Redwall ain't. It'll be trouble just to get over dem without bein felled by arrows. We cannot exactly sneak in eder, there be a lot more hares den before, including a lot of archers. A single rout on one of the walls could spell doom fer the entire assault." Markem then turned to Hazul, with a glint of increasing disappointment "As fer the ghost of a dead round ears, I'll make dis perfectly simple. 'Flesh an bone' mixed with steel an spear will get us into the abbey, not magical spells an' other such nonsense."

Resker chimed in, oddly to Hazul's defense "Markem, if I may, ya may think it silly to believe such dings, but yet vermin believe em through an through. In der camps, me captains complain of ghost mice, and jump at shadows. I say Hazul here performs his spell publicly an' brightly."

"Ya jumpen at ghosts too, Resker?" Jakker mocked the pine marten. Jakker grunted and explained a bit further "Sieges be an issue of morale an' supplies. We got der supplies, but a boost in der hearts of yer most superstitious troops will make em fight better I reckon. Besides, if we are waiten, der be no harm to it." Markem had not considered that line of thinking before. Hazul's rats did fight like devils in the name of their chief, and their beliefs drove them hard. Nothing terrified the rat more then glancing down at Hazul's burned paw which was wrapped in bandages. Hells, if even a damn fire won't stop dat rat, a horde of crazed and confidant vermin could move a mountain!

Markem sighed and nodded, granting his mixed blessings to Hazul. However, the water rat then spoke up "Der is also another matter, one which we have yet to see. Which is the matter of the Warrior of Redwall." There was a murmur in the room. None could easily forget how Kasg the Craven was defeated. However, what the vermin knew of this warrior was lacking. Some thought it was a squirrel, some even debated whether it was either an otter or a mole. The whole ordeal with Kasg was little more than rumor and legend, with even the former black clads in the Great Vermin Band giving conflicting reports.

"What of it?" Markem asked "One warrior can't hope to defeat an entire army, not unless warriors can summon fire from der sky."

"They won't need to." Hazul spoke confidently, although Kylan chided him with a nudge "Dis water rat jumpen at shadows, dat warrior hadn't dared make his presence known at Moss Field, an he won't be appearen again anytime soon I bets."

A voice came outside the tent, having overheard what was said. "Dats because he ain't even here!" The warlords who were in front of Markem were pushed aside by a larger figure. It was Scarl's voice, but the beast before him was a sacred, although somewhat younger, looking otter who looked around terrified at his surroundings. Although now draped in rags and a rope collar clinging to his neck, the woodlander still put up a fight against Scarl who came in huffing a bit. His sudden entrance into the tent got nothing but murmurs and vicious stares from the other warlords of higher stature.

"Oh? Is dis one it den?" Markem raised an eyebrow to the unfortunate slave.

"Nay, but i've been maken me rounds. Hazul gots a good point, me lords, der warrior of Redwall be a mighty warrior, an' I been asken meself 'why didn't we see der slayer of Kasg the Craven on der field of battle'. I got information ya all should know." Scarl patted the unfortunate otter who had fallen on the table with a harsh slap to his back. "Now why don't ya tell em, what ya told me."

The otter looked ashamed, but arose and seemed silent. Markem awaited for him to speak, but Kylan grew impatient and sneered at him "Well? Tell us, lad, or I'll personally have ya flogged!"

The threat did not fall on deaf ears as he spoke up with Scarl's insistence "Jue the Warrior, he disappeared seasons ago."

Hazul looked a bit dumbfounded and spoke up in an immediate flurry of questions "Disappeared? How long ago? Did no one find him, or a body by chance?"

Scarl was quick to answer for his prisoner "Seasons ago, quite some time from what I got out of dis one, but I confirmed de story with the other slaves we got in de camp dat we got from Moss Field. Der was a big hunt to try an find em in Mossflower, but nothing was turned up. Dis 'Jue' and der sword of dat ghost mouse be missing."

Markem shook his head "I care more about the Long Patrol den a dead mouse dat dis abbey respects, or worships, or whatever. If he is missing, all der better I suppose?"

Scarl shook his head back, indicating to Markem he disagreed "Markem, dis presents a perfect opportunity! Could ya imagine der faces of dem woodlander folk up der if we had either der warrior in bonds or der sword in our grasp? Dat would break der morale real quick!"

Hazul chimed in "It is more than just morale or breaking the woodlanders, this ancient wraith is tied to the sword, and my spells will be all the more powerful if we had it in our grasp, Markem."

There was a mix of universal agreement amongst the warlords, all except Kylan who thought it all daft. Most of the warlords agreed that having such a powerful relic in their possession would make sieging Redwall a lot easier, and could ease the minds of superstitious vermin. Markem was not as convinced as he and Hazul prodded the otter prisoner in front of them with further questions. "Dis warrior, what species is he?"

"A squirrel."

"Did the armor of Martin the Warrior disappear with him?"

"I don't know?"

"He got a brood?"

The otter had paused, his normal fright was replaced with sadness. He answered "Aye, one missus and a kid from what I remember. Me skipper mentioned them in passing once. I know little else."

Scarl smiled as he turned to Markem "Give me a week at best to at least start looken fer clues. Trail might be dead, but it be worth the shot regardless! Wit Hazul's help, we could have der bloody warrior benden knee to you, Great Warlord."

Markem would have found that amusing, but it was more likely that they would be looking for remains. Markem nodded in solemn agreement "Fine, ya have yer time, but der rest of ya prepare for an assault within the next week." Markem turned to the otter prisoner who shifted uncomfortably next to two warlords, ashamed of having given the enemy information that he thought was so common. "Double dis one's rations, an send em' to do easy work Scarl. Now. Everyone rest up, we got a long siege ahead of us."

---

It was early the next morning, and Jase was struggling alongside Gaisen to look over the walls. Where once the walls had been generally very quiet and lonesome, only ever patrolled by Garfan, now they were obnoxiously busy. Jase was afraid to even speak up with so many hares wandering about, all of them ordering each other about. It was confusing how calm and collected the Long Patrol were in the face of such an imposing enemy, and Jase was terrified to look out and see what the vermin horde was like.

"Ya think your pa fought something close to this?" Gaisen asked. He huffed, still wearing the 'recruit' uniform alongside Jase. Jase looked out at the vermin camp and shrugged "Pa never talked to me much, let alone talked much about this. Maybe Bollo and Kalma knows?"

Jase could spot a lot of things which frightened him. One lesser soldier was picking his teeth, eating a cooked wing of a bird. The sight mortified and sickened him, as he could never imagine the terrible fate that awaited any bird who fell into the grasp of the horde. Birds were a common sight in Redwall, some would fly up and even next near the abbey. Now, many were forced refugees, with singing birds looking down at the hungry vermin who would so willingly kill and eat them. Gaisen was mad when he looked at one of the Mossflower otters who had once been a performer during the last festival was now struggling to dig a ditch. He would constantly look over his shoulder at an angry looking weasel who tapped his foot, awaiting for him to dig faster. When he purposely slowed, the weasel beat him until he started to work again. Gaisen gritted his teeth and spoke angrily "Garfan was right about one thing, these folk are evil!"

Jase nodded with agreement, he could spot vermin gleefully sharpening blades or hearing the unique sound of armorers hammering away at their craft. The huge host was preparing for one thing; to breach into Redwall and use those weapons on those he held dear. He was more terrified than sad, wondering if his father was somewhere out in Mossflower even knowing what was going on.

"Jase! Get down from there!" Jase heard the all too familiar and angry call of his mother and looked down towards the courtyard. Kana was pushing past several hares and angrily stomped her way up the wall's stairs to meet Jase. "You will not be up here during this entire trouble! You are coming home at once!" Jase could already feel his tail being pulled and dragged, but Kana only stopped from a harsh yell by Stenna. "Kana! Stop that foolishness at once!"

Kana looked down to see an angry badger mother looking straight up at her, the two were getting into an argumentative mood as Kana started "Jase is my boy, not yours! He needs to be protected from that rabble out, and even inside, these walls!" Kana would occasionally look at a couple of ferrets who were camping suspiciously close to her own home on the inner wall. Stenna shook her head and spoke up to her "Siege or not, you will keep to the abbot's directives. Once Garfan is done with them, they are being sent straight to me, you hear? Young Jase will be back with you once he is done scrubbing every dish in Mossflower for that little stunt he pulled. Believe me Kana, he will be safe with me."

Jase gulped at the thought. He had hoped Stenna would not have noticed he little incursion into the library, but she did. Kana angrily sighed and stomped her way down, but was again stopped by Stenna "Kana, I know you are frightened and angry, and so am I. This is no time for hiding away or being angry with one another. As Redwallers, we have a responsibility to not only our youngest, but to our friends as well."

Kana had to pause as she accepted Stenna's reasoning, adding her own fears she related to "I cannot stand this! It was bad enough when Kasg was invading, but now this? I just wanted to have a normal blasted family! Not this, no-" Kana was on the verge of tears. Jase came down to try to comfort his mother which Kana embraced with her protective grasp. Stenna escorted Jase's deeply troubled mother back to her home, where she had spent much of the day help to prepare room and board for some of the new woodlanders who fled from the villages. Jase was looking on sadly, and could see all around how pained and terrified the adults of Redwall truly were.

No beast in Redwall looked happy, as officers of the Long Patrol gave out meek and terribly small rations which the normally gluttonous hares looked sadly down at. The terrified woodlanders looked to the monks who were helping them pitch tents inside the courtyard for comfort, but there was none to give. Many of the monks would look out over the walls, their faces twisted in sorrow at the mighty host arrayed against them. As Jase climbed back up the wall, Gaisen was awaiting him and spoke up to try to cheer the depressed squirrel up "Those blasted vermin outside I bet aren't going to make a big fuss I bets! As Garfan says, tis all bark and no bite."

"I hope so, Gaisen. I hope so." Jase and Gaisen continued to look out into the fields, their hope fading away as the morning sun rose.
_

Hesam and Vogar were silently looking over the walls at the Great Vermin Band, unsure of what to make of it. Hesam was trying to find a green flag, or a familiar symbol which would indicate to him who these vermin belonged to. He had no doubt in his mind that these vermin were one of the many thrallish minions of the wildcats of Sandbeach. Yet, the brown banners being widely displayed also meant they were likely an ally of them, not an army. Hesma spotted a grayish wildcat in the horde, but couldn't get a good look at him, which he was confident was the real brains behind this massive horde. Yet as he looked down at the horde, alongside Long Patrol hares who patrolled the walls in greater numbers, he was itching to discuss his troubles with Vogar who was looking rather bored.

Hesam knew how the wildcats treated woodlanders, but the slaves in the camp looked a lot healthier and less damaged then he remembered. This odd camp of vermin had a mix of Jusbrag and eastern vermin, but a vast majority of them were certainly from Mossflower. He saw few if any signs of vermin down below being lazy, many of them being quite active in a way he had never seen before. Some vermin were working alongside the woodlander laborers, or eagerly trying to learn from their thrallish counterparts. This was not vermin behavior as far as he knew, the dumb bandits were highly reliant on stealing their gear and had few if any craftsbeasts amongst them. It was why vermin used a wide variety of weapons, from farming equipment to even mining picks as weapons. Only more experienced vermin, like Kasg, was able to afford and recruit more experienced craftsbeasts, his horde to create weapons and armor, and had woodlanders toil with a majority of the major work. The same was true especially of Sandbeach's wildcats, whose only difference was that both vermin and woodlander worked as slaves under the feline lash. Hesam looked on curiously at this host, wondering what kind of deal Milo had made with this 'Markem' to gather such an impressive, albeit strange, host.

"Oi! Muv uvor, Hesum. I gutta see des hurde fer meself." Hesam glared behind him when he saw Bollo and Kalma climbing the stairs to the walls, the two elder heroes of Mossflower were in their typical garments, although Kalma was wearing one of her favorite pans tied to a rope at her chest as a makeshift and ineffectual breastplate.

Hesam gave a smile, but truthfully dreaded being near the hostile mole as Bollo was looking out over the vermin camp himself. Although, in truth, Kalma had to help him be raised up just to see over the walls.

"Huw many varments, are dur Kalma? Big bluck rats ya thunk?"

Kalma chuckled cautiously, fearful of a lot of things "Nay, I don't see any black clads for sure. Kasg isn't back from the dead, you think?"

"Nut unless rats sturted practicing necromancery." Bollo joked "Although, I do see some bluck bunner folk duwn dur."

Vogar commented, scanning the fields and forests "A bit organized for a horde, wot. If I am not mistaken, that group of rotters are likely already building ladders. An absurd amount of slaves, even for a vermin horde!"

Bollo nodded in rare agreement "Aye, any clue whuy?"

Vogar scratched his chin and thought, eventually speaking up to his thoughts "Vermin usually take slaves so they can keep more of their own kin on the front lines, camp followers of sorts. Bloody cretans need a lot of supplies taken with them, and will get exhausted real quick like if they carry all those supplies with them. With a large workforce, they can pitch their tents and build camp fortifications in hours."

"Tis a shame they are not like hares then." Hesam pretended to lament "Had they been more studious and without a lazy bone in their wretched bodies, they might even be a more proper enemy of the good people of Mossflower. And they would rely so less on the likes of us to do their work for them. Tis typical, for all their bravado about supremacy over the likes of us gentlebeasts, they must yet rely on us for their work."

Bollo was trying to ignore Hesam, scanning around and commenting "Udd. Jusbrug varments. Luuk at dut orange paintued furret over dur. Whut dey doin all dur way duwn here?"

Hesam paused, looking to Vogar for information but the hare only shrugged. Kalma didn't seem to believe Bollo at first "Nay, can't be. Usually. . .wait, no I see it. Odd. Mercenaries maybe?"

"If I may ask my good fellow heroes, what is a Jusbrag?" Hesam said in a confused tone. Bollo rolled his eyes subtly, but a light kick from Kalma got him to stop being passive aggressive. Kalma explained "When me, Bollo, and Jue were out in Mossflower, we ran into some pirates who came out of Jusbrag. It's a big vermin fort up there in the north, they got a very distinctive orange painted armor. See the pirate headbands mixed in with those rotting rags? I'm surprised you folk don't know much of it."

Bollo didn't seem surprised that Hesam nor Vogar knew much about Jusbrag, his belief in them being scammers and conbeasts only seemed to hold more water with their supposed heroism. Hesam puffed up and affixed his feathered cap "Well, Jusbrag or some other far flung vermin stronghold, these dark beasts will rue the day to have dealt with the companions! I hope you will be joining us as well, heroes of Mossflower." Hesam was goading Bollo and Kalma, who were past their prime. Kalma sighed "I wish I could, but as chief chef, its my duty to keep our food stocks in order! Its bad enough with the vermin we got inside, but those younger hares are desperate eaters I tell you."

"Aye, I'll be stayun on de wulls." Bollo said casually. Kalma scolded him "No you will not! You are the foremole Bollo, and your moles need help laying out defenses."

"True, but nut tull I smuck dut rut fur whut he dud to Dakun." There was a silence as Bollo continued to scan the fields, looking for this 'Markem'. If Jue could battle Kasg to a standstill, he certainly could beat that murderous, slaving, tyrant into the ground himself. Kalma sighed and patted his back in comfort "Well, you can't do much about that from up here, old friend. Last thing we want is that murderer to win."

Hesam was truly trying to hold back a cruel chuckle. Ah, our dear dead skipper and his equally dead son. Such a tragedy, that they won't get to see what the Greeneyes will do this stupid abbey and its equally naive beasts. Hesam turned to Vogar and smiled a bit "Well, me and Vogar must go prepare for the coming battle. I may not have armor, but my song is far sharper than my sword. I wish you well, Bollo of Redwall." Hesam and Vogar made their exit, although the two continued to keep themselves silent as the mass of hares still marched past them.

Bollo and Kalma separated and headed towards the back of the walls, by pure accident bumping into a rushing Garfan who was scolding Nuck and Darper "You know slowpokes get this fresh water to the eastern side of the wall at once! Well? Hurry up then!"

Nuck complained openly as he passed Bollo, struggling with a pale of water which weighed more then his absurd 'recruit' uniform he was wearing "Why can't those two dumbskulls carry this? Not like they ever do anything useful around here anyhow!" Nuck was referring to Jase and Gaisen who were following Garfan from behind. Despite Nuck's complaints, both of them were carrying around a sack of bread and handing it out to some of the hares.

Garfan and Bollo met up, with Garfan who was looking frustrated. "Bloody vermin! I swear, if I see another fox trying to sneak off with something from the abbey, I am going to be throwing that lot over the walls!"

Bollo ignored the old and grumpy mouse, coming over the Jase and Gaisen, ruffling their heads in friendly greeting "Yuo twu be wurkin hurd I see, why dun yuo two come duwn an help wit sum fortifications wit me udder moles."

"No." Garfan said firmly "Once these two are done with passing out today's rations to these hares, they are going straight to Stenna."

"Dun I will ask Stunna." Bollo replied. Garfan was still unsure of what to think of Bollo, and was not willing to hold his tongue back "Shouldn't you be elsewhere, Bollo?"

"Latur." Bollo kept his attention on the two, giving them both a friendly wink. Jase and Gaisen were relieved to know Bollo wanted to get their help, as working with wood sounded a lot more exciting and calmer then getting dragged into Stenna's care to calm down and pretend to play with the dibbuns. Garfan scolded him "At least look at me when I am talking to you Bollo."

"Oh, behave yourself Garfan." Kalma scolded back "Bollo here be a regretful beast, no need to bully at a time like this!" Some of the hares who were sitting or standing on the walls would give each other odd looks as they overheard this drama. Bollo stood and turned to Garfan, huffing at him "I mude me dues, to dur abbuy an' so. I wun't be sculded at by dur likes of yuo, Gurfun."

Garfan grunted in annoyance "And I won't tolerate you demoralizing us any further with paranoid delusions."

"Bolly hell." One of the hares piped up "Are you folk in the middle of some family feud or something?"

Neither Garfan nor Bollo answered, and Kalma tried to calm everyone down "Let's keep our focus on the trouble outside these walls, please!"

Garfan was about to speak up again, but he felt a harsh tug at his backside. He looked around and saw Nuck looked terrified and was yelling up at him "Garfan! Garfan! Ya gotta come quick! The vermin are approaching!" Darper was next to him, and Garfan was about the scold the two, until he saw several hares rushing towards the main gates of Redwall itself. It was closeby and everyone was rushing. Garfan commanded the four youngsters "You four get below! Now! If you hear fighting, rush into the abbey!" Garfan pulled out his sword and was soon rushing towards the gate.

Bollo and Kalma shepherded the youngsters down into the courtyard while Garfan rushed with a number of Long Patrol to the main gate. The Hares were preparing themselves for the worst, as panic reigned below them in the courtyard. Garfan could see a huge mass of vermin at the front of their own camp, surrounding a rat in a horned helm. The rat and his bodyguard were looking over at Redwall itself, and the vermin had gathered to him. It was a mass of barbarians who seemed to be a bit too comfortable. Garfan was joined by Hesam and Vogar who had also rushed next to Garfan, eager to see what was happening.

There was a silence as Garfan could see very little from the distance, as the rat warlord continued to stare.
_

"Markem, this is insane!" Scarl was practically pulling out his fur from his head, something which finally had gotten Markem's attention. Scarl looked frustrated, pacing between various hordebeasts as he seemed to accusingly rant and rave "Ya are gonna ruin dis whole ding for a spot of diplomacy?! Diplomacy!"

One captain who was next to Markem spoke up next, with a mix of concern "Chief, ya sure dis be wise? What if dey stick ya on der walls."

Jarolom was pushing his way through the crowds, trying to figure out what the whole mess was about. He was joined by Niala and Wulvog who came next to Scarl who was still pacing. Markem eventually turned to his horde and spoke up, seeing how clearly concerned they were "I know it ain't normal, or 'orthodox' as dem hares would say, but we are a conquering people. Not a pillagen people. I made me offers of peace to dem woodlanders at both Tussock an Mossfield an' kept me word, tis only fair I do der same fer these abbeybeasts."

"Ya, but what if they stick a spear right into you!" Scarl bursted out loud. Markem sighed, he could see his friend was suffering from all the possible troubles there could be for the leader of the horde to waltz so close and unprotected near the walls, yet it was Markem's insistence of going inside which made him burst out in rage. "Ya gotta think dis one a bit more through, chief! Dem woodlanders aren't stupid ya know!"

"I know, but dey are woodlanders. Dey are beasts of honor an' all dat."

"Ya, honor ain't gonna not tempt em to do somethin drastic!"

"I made me decision. We'll approach to talk wit a large group, an see what der willing to give up on. We gots a week to prepare for an assault on der abbey, but if dey be smart dey will just surrender without a fight! These lands will belong to all of us, whether we like it or not, an as by right of conquest it will be der Great Vermin Band who will rule Mossflower. I cannot do dat by acten like nutten more den a bandit king. Scarl. Jarolom. Ya two will accompany me to der gates." Markem turned towards the gates of Redwall and held his breath. Scarl was practically pleading with his chief "Markem, don't be stupid, now ain't da time fer talken."

Jarolom interjected as well "Aye, all dem hares gotta do is stick a markbeast's arrow through one of us, an we can't do much about it."

"Dat be true. For vermin like ourselves. Luzgot, Kostomar, an others may pull der tricks an' schemes to betray and abuse our trust, but lets not ferget this is an abbey. The hares respect honor, an dey would radder throw themselves from the walls den harm a beast who comes to talk to em in parlay. I had an offer I planned to give onto de abbot an hare commander, an if dey takes it, we won't even needs to fight."

"Ya, wish ya would tell me doh." Scarl chided him. Markem smiled, trying to reassure the ferret spymaster of his beloved horde "I'll tell ya on der way over. Don't want der likes of me other captains hearen it. Now, lets go. Keep der watch for any treachery on der walls, if der hares do actually become desperate."

Five creatures left for the walls in a slow and steady pace. Markem, Jarolom, Scarl, 'Dirt', and Markem's banner bearer. The five made their way out into the field, and once they were in the firing range of the arrows of the hares, Scarl expected the worst. He kept scanning the walls for danger. Most of the beasts on the walls looked down angrily at them, vermin who blatantly put their slaves to work digging trenches around the abbey and sang war songs within earshot of the defenders. They did not fire, but they held their bows close. The panicked yelling died down in the abbey itself, as Markem approached. He stopped half way only when he thought he saw bad movements near one end of the wall. The reality became more clear when a younger hare maid was pushing past other hares to make her way towards the central wall. Markem continued to move forward, his paw away from his sword as he was eventually yelled at by the hare.

"That is bolly far enough, vermin!"

Markem looked up, stopping as ordered. He was close to the gates, as Jarolom and Scarl looked a bit frightened. They were staring at a lot of hares with javelins and bows, each one could expertly kill them at a moment's notice. If they needed to get to cover, it would be difficult. A large chunk of the horde was staring at Markem, as he looked up and huffed "Ya know who I am. I only wish to speak."

"Speak? Speak to whom? We won't surrender to the likes of you!"

Scarl was wanting to break off and head back as quickly as they could, and Jarolom looked very paranoid. Markem spoke up "Yer commander, is he dead or alive? Naus I takes it, I spoke to him befer."

"He be alive, but no thanks you he ain't well, you rotter!"

"Oh for season's sake! Who the hells am I talken too?!"

"Marople De Fformelo Tussock, temporary commanding officer!" Marople was looking down, trying to get a better impression of Markem. The rat was tapping his feet in impatience, his paws folded as he tried to argue with the hare "Well Maple, I ain't goin anywhere until I speaks to der abbot of dis abbey. Last time I check, dis ain't a Long Patrol fort."

Garfan peaked over the wall next, ready to unleash his hateful spite on Markem. He only paused when he saw an otter staring back up at him. He looked to Markem and spoke up in anger "You're lucky to even be standing there rat, you murderous wretch! I should throw a rock on you for what you did to Dakan and his son!"

Markem gave a sigh at this comment, and Scarl shifted uncomfortably. "An if ya do, dem me horde will attack fully. Today. An dey won't give in till yer all dead for tryen to murder der chief during a parlay! I've come wit an offer or two."

There was a murmur on the walls with the hares, but Garfan was not having it. He angrily spat at Markem. "That is what I think of your offers, rat! We won't be neither your slaves or your victims! Redwall ain't yours to take!"

Markem was quite fearless and confident in his own safety. 'Dirt' on the other hand felt a little awkward, especially when Garfan looked a bit more closely at him from the wall, unsure of what to make of the otter. In fact, Garfan thought he looked suspiciously familiar. Marople and her other officers were about to turn down the offer, until Hesam spoke up "Mam, if I may. This rat seems to be quite a diplomatic creature of sorts, there would be no shame in listening to his demands. I know it sounds odd, but I saw let him on in, without his sword. When he is in-"

Garfan spoke up next, confident in what Hesam would say next "Then we arrest and imprison that cretan!"

"Well. . .no." Hesam painfully chuckled, dwindling his paws. He had no clue why this warlord was acting so suspiciously diplomatic, but he was bound to help what he came to believe to be one of Milo's many pet allies. "I say we let him in, under conditions, and hear him out."

Garfan looked a bit shocked and spoke up "Cluny tried this same trick as the old stories say, Markem will likely try to hold a prisoner if he hides a sword or worse. Last thing we need is him taking a hostage in the middle of the abbey. No doubt whatever this rat has to offer is slavery or death."

Marople was thinking it over, and seemed rather conflicted. She was bound by codes of conduct to at least hear the rat out if his terms were decent, but trying to speak at the walls would strain their voices and cause more trouble then it was worth. She went back to the balcony of the walls and spoke up "We will speak. Inside the abbey, under the condition you leave any and all weapons at the gate!"

Jarolom angrily spoke up "Ya think us stupid hare! We ain-" Markem nudged him, stopping the fox mid speech. "Deal, but under me condition I can take one beast inside wit a weapon for me own protection!"

"One vermin is enough!" Garfan angrily chided, but the rat spoke back "Me and my bodyguard, 'Dirt'. Does dat seem fair, hare?"

Scarl whispered to Markem "This is stupid, Markem! They will have you inside and surrounded!" As the woodlanders on top discussed amongst themselves, Markem turned to Scarl and smiled reassuringly "I'll be fine Scarl. If I ain't, den ya can beat me over the head fer all eternity in der afterlife if der is one."

Scarl shook his head "Oh I'll do more den dat, ya crazy rat. I should be in der wit ya."

"Deal!" Marople called down. "You will meet us in the courtyard, and you can say your peace and then leave for good!" Markem nodded in response, taking his sword from his belt and passing it to Scarl who took it. Markem turned to 'Dirt' who seemed to awkwardly shuffle himself into a more dignified look "Keep yer paw on yer sword, 'Dirt'. Just in case."

'Dirt' only nodded, as they heard the gates unlock and open for Markem and his servant, and the two waltzed inside.
_

All of Redwall was out in the courtyard, keeping a far off distance once they heard of who was coming in. Abbot Marthomis was walking slowly out of the abbey, with Marople next to him. The children of the abbey would watch from the windows, while the adults would shuffle out to surround this meeting at a safe distance. The vermin inside Redwall also look on with curiosity, wanting to see this conquering warlord for themselves. Hares watched from the walls and from the crowds, already knowing what to suspect, but still sought to keep some manner of authority over the crowd.

Garfan was coming down from the walls, and was angry to see Bollo and Kalma watching alongside their four respective youngsters. Jase and Gaisen kept to Bollo's side, and Nuck and Darper to their right. They were curious to see this 'Markem' for themselves, but each had a different idea in their mind. "You should have taken them inside!" Garfan seethed. Bollo chided him a bit "I wus, but yuo saud to take'um inside if we heurd battle, an I heurd no buttle. I hurd dem hures are gonna allow dut rat into Redwull. Fur what?"

Garfan calmed himself and shook his head "For a talk supposedly." As Garfan and Bollo whispered and talked to one another, Jase felt a bit frightened. He was anxious to see this Markem, this murderous, slaving, evil rat who commanded a vast horde of vermin. It showed, shivering a bit. Gaisen had his own thoughts and spoke up almost excitedly "I bets dat rat be as tall as cluney."

Jase was silent as ever, as he had his own suspicions of what he would see. In the old tales, the image of Cluny was well known. A rat as tall as an otter, one eyed, and a barb on his tail which could slash at his enemies. Warlords of monstrous and terrible power, each one more evil then the last. Badrang the Tyrant, The Marlfoxes, Slagar the Cruel; Each were unique in their own ways, true monsters from the tales of yore. Yet, when Markem finally did enter alongside an otter who stood tall over him, Jase looked confused as the entire abbey went silent.

Markem was no Cluny, that was more than certain, with Nuck being in particular looking disappointed. Markem was just a brown rat in a chainmail shirt which was hidden beneath a warrior's tunic. He originally had a terrifying helm on with antlers on top of it jutting forward, but he took it off almost immediately and held it to his side. He was maybe only slightly taller at best, but not by much. The abbot of Redwall stood at the stairs of the abbey's entrance, slowly walking out to meet him, and was joined by Marople who kept to his side. The two forces met halfway in the courtyard and kept only a slight distance to one another, as Marthomis got a good look at the enemy warlord who had come to take his abbey.

"I am Abbot Marthomis of Redwall, and as my hare friend has already made their acquaintance on our walls. I have been told you wished to speak in peace?" Marople kept an eye on the otter, unsure of what to make of him. 'Dirt' kept his paws away from his sword, and instead kept his paws behind his back and remained silent. Yet his eyes wandered, looking around at the legendary abbey, a bit saddened at how beautiful it was. Markem introduced himself "Aye. Nice to meet ya, abbot. Names Markem. Brownnose if ya are lookin fer surnames." Markem's voice was oddly pleasant and humble, which took the abbot a bit by surprise. He expected a boisterous, evil, and arrogant creature.

"Well, Markem Brownnose, now that you are inside Redwall Abbey, I will listen to what you have to say, since you have asked for me specifically. Know that other rats such as yourself have also come to this abbey, asking us to surrender, but we have never given into such demands."

"Aye, an I intend to do der same." Markem sighed "I will make me intentions clear. Ya have aided my enemy, mustered em, an I defeated em at Moss Field. By right of conquest, I am intending to rule all of Mossflower, an I ask of ya to surrender der abbey peacefully, for both of our sakes."

Marople huffed "That will not bolly happen."

"I offered der same at Tussock, hare. I offered der same at Moss Field, an I won dem both. Der be no shame in surrenderen to der likes of me."

Marthomis grunted "By how you treat your prisoners, Markem Brownnose, I know several otters who would heavily disagree." Markem grew silent, and paused for a bit. Although he did not know it, others watched on as he spoke to the abbot and grew restless. Jase looked to Bollo, asking him "Bollo, was Kasg like this?"

Bollo shook his head "Kusg were a bluck rat, but a bit shurter. Twas a turribly guud fighter as yur pa described him aus."

Nuck looked to Jase when he spoke up, as the squirrel retreated a bit in fear towards Bollo. Jase looked fearfully at the conquering warlord, and his thoughts were invaded by the fear of what this rat could, or would, do if he found out his lineage. If Markem would murder Kasser for being the son of the Skipper, he could only imagine what Markem would do to him. "Bollo, I am frightened."

Bollo gave him a comforting pat, although Nuck spoke up in a hushed and angry voice "Coward. He ain't even armed and you shiver in fright of him!"

"Hey! Lets me see! Lets me see!" Snot Butkan was nearly yelling out, having pushed past Bollo and others. He was in his small robe, trying to get a better look at this Markem. He looked almost disappointed, and then looked around "Is dat suppose to be der warlord of dat army outside? Must be a courier I bets."

"No, thats him Snot." Gaisen said. Snot huffed in response as Jase retreated further towards Bollo. Nuck kept his damning eyes on Jase, angry at him and trying to chide him "If your father was here, I bets he'd have that rat killed by now! Like in the old stories, driving those cowardly rats from Redwall, something you seem to have in common with Jase the Meek!"

Kalma harshly slapped Nuck over the head "Enough of that. You will not speak of murdering any beast here, especially!"

Of the youngsters, it was Darper who was silent and looking longingly at both Markem and 'Dirt'. He didn't understand why, but the rat had brought a fellow woodlander with him. The younger otter felt puffed up, trying to act strong. He was emboldened as he thought of the ancient story of Mathias the Warrior, of how he drove Cluny from the abbey as he read his articles of surrender, something which Markem was just getting to.

Abbot Marthomis and Marople listened in as Markem eventually spoke up "Abbot. Maple."

"Marople." Marople corrected. Markem apologized "Oh. Sorry. Bad wit names."

He coughed and continued "You will all have grace fer one week at best, an in that time if any beast wishes, they may leave the abbey in peace. Ya will not be imprisoned, enslaved, or killed. Ya will be allowed to camp nearby an given provisions fer the remainder of the campaign. Any vermin in here may join me cause if they so wish, but if they do not, I will allow em passage back to der homes an under guard. At der end of me campaign, ya will be allowed to return to yer abbey flying me banners, an a garrison will be placed here to keep yer loyalties and extract tribute fer me horde." Markem said aloud. It was then Marthomis's time to pause, surprised at how gracious Markem's deal was. There was an immediate murmur across the entire abbey grounds, vermin and woodlander alike. Marthomis then spoke up "How can we trust your word?"

"I made a similar promise at Tussock, an dem hare families der are free an' fine fer now. Every village from here to me own home can attest to me word. Me honesty is valuable to me, more so den any piece o' land."

Marople spoke up "And of my Hares?"

"You an yer hares will be sent to a quarry in der north, where ya will remain fer the rest of the war an kept as prisoners till its end. When I make my peace with Salamandastron, den you folk will return to yer homes, an not bother me vermin folk."

Marthomis spoke up again "And if we do not take this deal of yours?"

The abbot locked his eyes to Markem who seemed almost regretful to say his next piece. "Den I will assault der abbey an' either kill or capture any beast inside. Der will be no mercy den, except dose who surrender. An dat mercy will be ya all bein slaves of me horde."

Darper huffed in anger, his memory of Stenna's stories of Redwall made him breathe quickly. Marthomis and Marople continued to speak humbly to Markem, but he no longer wished to hear. Blasted! I am not going to let this evil rat speak any longer in such a way to Marthomis or ill of me home! Darper looked nervous, and he decided to take action. He wasn't going to let Markem try to sweet talk his way into ruling the abbey, and he wanted to make sure of that. He rushed over to one of the monks who had a staff and yanked it from his surprise paw. Neither Bollo and Garfan could stop him as Darper began to rush out from the crowd yelling "Redddwaallllll!" In his pained and squeaky voice. Everyone was now staring at him. He did not notice, but Stenna was closely following behind alongside Garfan trying to catch him as Darper tried to come close to bash the rat's face.

Snap! Crack!

Darper had come close and paused, looking up at his staff which had been chopped in half. 'Dirt' had taken out his sword and chopped the stave, as its head fell to the ground. Markem looked amused, but 'Dirt' looked a lot more sour at the younger otter as he froze in utter fear and fell on his tail and was now crawling backwards. 'Dirt' put his sword back into its sheath as Stenna grabbed onto the frightened youngster. "I apologize most profusely abbot! Darper you fool of a creature, come here!" Stenna didn't sound very angry, but was looking at Markem with terrified concern.

"I apologize, Markem, I beg you to not take this the wrong way."

Markem didn't seem bothered and turned his attention back to Marthomis. He could see he was worried what Markem would think of them, but the rat seemed understanding "Energetic lad, I see."

Garfan came over, grabbing Darper more harshly than Stenna was, but as he was pulling back the frightened otter he got a good look at Markem's bodyguard. 'Dirt' looked grim, almost tired in some way or another, and it was obvious from his years under Markem had not always been kind. Garfan yet seemed to almost recognize him, and it disturbed him immensely.

"Markem, this abbey stood for many seasons against tyranny and evil in all its forms. Your offer is fair, and I will make it known to our non-residents. However, many of us will not willingly go to such lengths to abandon this abbey. The warrior Martin has protected this abbey for many seasons, and shall for many more seasons, and we shall always be here to help and heal the beasts of Mossflower. We cannot abandon our friends to any fate, and I cannot in good conscious surrender to you who have murdered our most beloved of friends and enslaved others. I am tempted, I must say, to surrender to not see war of any kind like I did when Kasg invaded this land."

Markem nodded "Den so be it. I wish ye luck to rely on yer spirit fer aid, but me offer will still stand fer the week to make yer dues."

Marthomis then spoke up once again "Markem Brownnose, please, listen to me. You need not do this, any of this. Mossflower is a land for all beasts, woodlander and vermin alike. I do not ask of your surrender, but to reconsider your course."

"Tis a bit late fer dat. Been far too late fer dat." Markem said regretfully "I made me plans der moment I betrayed a horde of Pelg der Tall dey called him, an made me chief. I murdered, enslaved, and tortured many a' beast in dis one path open to me. Dem vermin outside call me chief, expect of me to bring em a new land to call home. I cannot change me people in a small corner of Mossflower, I know dat, but I can build a better world fer dem here. Mossflower be where I grew up in, an where I spent most of me life. This land be where I'll likely be buried as well. War be the only way I know how to change it, an it worked fer me thus far. As much as I would love to admire yer efforts, abbot, tis naive an' foolish fer a beast like meself."

Marthomis frowned and figured that would be his answer. He wondered what Markem would have been had he not been thrusted into a world of violence like many vermin had, if he grew up near the abbey rather than live and march in hordes. He wondered how much pain and suffering for both woodlander and vermin alike had Markem been given a better world to live in. He sighed and asked of him "If by whatever means you take this abbey, Markem Brownnose, I will ask of you to please spare our youngest at least. Even the one who so foolishly tried to strike at you."

Markem nodded "Der will be an attempt. I have no intention on bein a degenerate." Markem turned around and spoke to the crowd himself "Ya shall all have a week to leave de abbey, or be combatants within it! A week!" Markem was about to leave the abbey, but he felt something was wrong. He was walking alone, and looked behind him to see 'Dirt' still looking around the abbey. Marthomis and Marople seemed to pity the otter as Markem spoke up 'Dirt'! Get a move on!" The otter rushed back to Markem's side and exited the abbey with him, leaving the redwallers in dismay.

Jase was frightened, but as he looked around he could see nothing but dejection and fright on everyone's faces. Even Darper floundered in trying to act brave as others had, and his failure only got him looking white as a ghost. Jase thought to himself. Oh seasons, Pa really needs to be heading home, and heading home now! Before Redwall breaks!