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.

52. Triumph of Southsward

Chapter 51: Triumph of Southsward

To match a gloomy event, a gloomy morning was needed.

Frankfort was thankful to the seasons for providing such a thing as he led the procession beyond the walls of Palewind, with a vast host behind him. He marched out slowly, with Samkon by his side, and his three generals behind him. In his golden armor, the prince looked on with a stoic youth, cold and imperius at the prepared sight far off. On a smaller hill beyond Palewind laid four yellow flags with a host of captains and soldiers waiting in silence, a single grave laid forth for one brave hare who had perished. Draped over the side of the prince's arm was that hare's black cloak. Samkon carried the yellow banner of Southsward, the symbol of the Bellmaker and the sun blazing upon it.

Behind Frankfort's general was a host of other beasts. First came the respectful advisors, then the captains of the armies, and the soldiers. Today is the day they all would set out, and the marching footsteps of the force quaked beyond Palewind. A decently sized garrison would stay behind, cramming themselves on the walls as they saw the vast force arrayed past the tents. Frankfort was the best seen, his shining golden armor could be seen even at a distance. As the last of the soldiers went out, next came the vermin and woodlander serfs, who became even more silent than usual considering the circumstances.

Yet, amongst the procession even farther back still was the Golden Regiment, the gilded force of the prince's own personal bodyguard and the soldiers of Lars. Four hares carried their former commander in a closed casket. The casket was far from humble, draped in the yellow banner of their country and lined with gold. Frankfort spared no expense, his commanders brought to the camp a casket maker and he had personally watched its construction. As nervous as the casket maker was, Frankfort was silent and stared outwardly into the distance.

The procession reached the hill as the captains forced the serfs to one side of the hill while the soldiers took the other. There was anxiety throughout the entire camp, as no one knew what Frankfort intended to do. The casket was brought to the edge of a grave, dug out recently and done to his perfected standards. The squirrel prince draped Lars' cloak over his casket and patted the wood in a soft tone.

"Lars was beyond friend." He sniffed "He was a soldier, friend to all including my father."

Frankfort looked up and towards Eskert, Borbon, and Loy who had made their way to the front. They respectfully kept their heads low as the southern scion frowned deeply. "Lars taught me all I knew, he taught me how to wield my sword and to command with authority. He taught me how to command the respect of those below me, and to be humbled by them. He was kind and gracious, with no fault found amongst him. He was brave, braver than any beast I ever came to know. I ask you, speak good of Lars, for he goes to a place we cannot follow."

The members of the golden regiment one by one came forward, placing flowers they had collected at the foot of his casket. They spoke of his bravery, his greatness, and honors. As they did this, Eskert went forward and did the same. "I did not know him for long, but for the time which I did, it was an honor like no other."

Frankfort softly smiled at this as there was a blow of trumpets amongst the soldiers. The generals came forward one by one to give their speeches. Yet, of all of them, Nosbub's was the one which touched the squirrel's heart.

"Me and Lars never got along, I am afraid, though I wish it were so. He was a good soldier, and a better captain. He saved my life, and I will never be able to repay him for it! His murderers are all dead, but the ones who commanded them and took our beloved Lars from us will be brought low! I swear it on the Bellmaker, On Southsward, and all those who dared to defile the good name of our good beasts!" Nosbub twitched harshly at the end of his speech, as if Lars himself had punched him. Yet, the whole ordeal made the black hare laugh profoundly in his mind, smiling gleefully as he watched his subordinates give more generic speeches.

At last, the casket was laid down into the ground. Frankfort stared deeply, tearing up as he wanted nothing more than the casket to move and open, and for Lars to pop out of it. Yet, as the casket was finally laid, Frankfort could see his soldiers burying his captain and friend forever into Mossflower's dirt. A martyr is not want I wanted. It felt so wrong to the squirrel prince. He had brought his army here, he expected death, but nothing like this. Not to a beast who was so close to him in particular. His tears began to dry up, and anger replaced his sorrow.

He turned to the gathered and nervous serfs first, his hateful eye looking over them as they bowed their head or stared on with suspense. Frankfort's gaze turned to his soldiers, and it did not soften.

"One of our own has fallen." Frankfort shouted out "Fallen as is suspected of any good soldier of our country, but our own was not slain by righteous battle, but by murder! Lars Fleetfoot is the fourth of his name in his family, but now gone is his charm and duty. Gone forever and never to return. He was a friend and ally, companion and dutiful advisor. He loved him as a brother, and he loved me as he would any son. As soldiers, our duty is to go forth where peaceful beasts will not tread, but never have we seen our own fallen in such a way. The monsters who attacked us, they were hateful and spiteful things! They killed our good Lars, and for it, we will punish and destroy them utterly!"

There was no cheer from the crowd, but Frankfort cared little as he turned to the serfs. He was somewhat aware they had joined in the fighting, but on his side of things. Apparently, as he was advised, the vermin and their families were as much targets of Nurf's evil beasts.

Yet also did they escape, likely having helped the Long Patrol claim their allies and the hated Gandal make his way beyond the sight of his scouts! The nuance passed over his head, his eyes squinted as he looked between frightened faces and the horrified youngsters.

"The vermin of this land, a barbarian and savage people. They had murdered us, tormented us, demeaned us, and insult us. Each step has been fraught with peril and sorrow, and each day I understand now more the plight of this land. Lars was with us for many years, and he had fought many battles, many beside my own father. We fought the evil of the lizards of the great southern marshes, we freed woodlanders from years of decrepit barbarism, and now we shall free this land from this filth as well! Yet we cannot become like them, we cannot go to their level and kill and main simply because our hearts grieve for our lost friend, and we cannot abide by such evil any longer." Frankfort took a step forward as some of the vermin serfs in the front instinctively took a step back. Frankfort could see they feared him and what he could possibly say next, and to him this was intended. They were learning.

Frankfort extended his ring paw to them and spoke with an illness "Bow, and show none of you are the barbarian filth who murdered Lars. You are serfs of Southsward now and forevermore, and till this day and into eternity you will keep your head low to your betters, for your sakes and ours."

There was no pause as the vermin serfs quickly bowed their heads, and others dove deep into the ground on their paws and knees. Frankfort looked almost desperately for any sign of resistance, an excuse to remove them, but did not find them wanting. He turned back to his soldiers, his sword coming out of its sheath as he waddled towards the grave.

"Loy Watertrot." He looked to the otter in the crowd "You know the path to Nurf's keep, you had come across it before."

"I do." Loy felt awkward, as surrounded by so many, only they spoke. Frankfort nodded "Then so be it, you have my trust to lead this army to Nurf Bloodkeep's lair, and together as one, we shall more than strike him down. We will tear his lair stone by stone till he is no more! On our way to Redwall, we will find every vermin who stands against us and those who murdered us and smash them upon the rocks of this country! For Southsward and Mossflower! For all good beasts!" There was a cheer amongst the rank and file soldiers as Loy smiled widely, and Eskert by his side smiled too.

Although for Eskert it was for a very different reason.

Eskert added to the chorus of soldiers, his revenge against the hated Nurf would soon be upon them all "For Mossflower, Death to the Vermin!"

"Death to the Vermin!"
_

Gandal and Gaster barely saw each other as their forces walked side by side, both armies being about as different as one could suspect. Gaster's forces were spread wide, while Gandal's was pushed closely together. Gandal spied upon Gaster commanding his forces, with Olan keeping alongside his warlord with a grim face. Gandal's eyes peered between the woodlanders in a long line with suspicion, whispering to his subordinate.

"Okay, am I an idiot, cause what der hell is dis lot doing?"

Olan looked from side to side and shrugged. Gandal hated not knowing, and that pesky voice at the back of his head spreading distrust only made him queasy. Angrily, the warlord yelled up. "Enough, we rest here!"

The group of vermin scattered and Gaster silently motioned his woodlanders to do the same, although both groups quickly segregated. Gandal motioned Olan to his side and pointed northward "Go an grab some of der boys, an scout out our way forward." Olan nodded and quickly left, as the warlord walked up to the squirrel who was a little nervous as the big black rat made his way to him. "Yer formation, is der a point to it?"

"My what?"

Gandal sounded more annoyed than ever "Ya got your woodlanders in far line in der marching, whats der point. Were trying to not have dem Southswarders following us, remember?"

Gaster blinked and grunted. He folded his paws, speaking as if talking down to a small child "Long Patrol tactic, i'm surprised you don't know it. Makes our small, meager force look like a much bigger army. It'll scare off attempts by a small force following us."

Gandal growled, extending his claws at the squirrel but not touching him, but he certainly looked like he wanted to strangle the poor creature. "You idiot. We want dem to follow me lads goin towards der inland lake! If dey spot us, dey'll come after us!"

"Well, they haven't." Gaster growled in return. The two were about go into a grander argument, with their forces awkwardly looking at them before Olan returned rather quickly and yelled out "Sir! We got movement on der hills!"

Gandal and Gaster turned as Olan returned a bit too quickly and both quickly followed the rat as he led them to the forest's edge and up into a balding hillside of tall grass and weeds. The two and their respective retinues climbed a hill and looked down much to their surprise as they saw a massive column of woodlanders waving the yellow standard of Southsward marching in a long line. Gaster spotted a few towns, East and West Ridderhill, two small villages owned by two feuding mice families who had separated long ago, farming two different hills. Much to Gaster's breaking heart, West Ridderhill was burning, its windmill was set alight and he could see figures on the hill marching out shackled beasts. The other village did not suffer the same fate as a yellow banner upon it with several of the villagers being marched out towards the army as well. Being closer, the group could spot the mice looking horrified as yellow clad otters and hares forcefully brought rebellious groups towards the main host.

Yet, of all the things Gaster knew, this was a confusing event. The mice families of both villages liked one another, but they were about as pacifist as one could get, so why the Southsward army was taking prisoners and burning villages in such a manner only made him think less of them. Barbarians in nice yellow coats.

Gandal and Olan looked over the main army as it headed north, but Gandal was confused himself as he spoke to his captain "Olan, dis army is a bit, erm, out of place. Is dis just one army?"

"Aye, but if ya look all der way back behind dat line, der is another vast host coming up."

Gandal did look as Gaster simply listened. Gandal nervously spoke "Dey aren't after us, ya dink?"

"If dey were, we'd be fighting dem an' finding der patrols. No, der heading north, towards der lake."

"I know dat, but I sent dem boys north, didn't we? Dey should have gone around, an-"

"Not unless they are after Nurf, and Nurf alone." Gaster spoke out. Gandal and Olan couldn't really argue with that logic, but they certainly tried. Olan moved his lips to the side, unsure. "If dat were true, bush tail, dey are being led by idiots. De's beasts don't act like idiots-"

"They are zealous and vengeful however." Gaster pointed out. "They may believe we are allied to Nurf in some way, right? They also know we can escape them easily, so they may assume we are already there. They know the Long Patrol made a small home there, and assume that the lake is most likely place we are all at. Even if they don't find us there, they'll have a large enough army to certainly find and kill Nurf."

Gandal sighed as if disappointed, looking around as he could see new plumes of smoke "I can't say ya be wrong, I suspected a bit better of dis lot."

Gaster rolled his eyes and looked on at the march of this legion of light destroy and murder his home. Gandal then gave a grim smile "If dey do this der entire remaining of der campaign, we won't got nutten to worry about."

Gaster gave the rat an angry look as Gandal took note. "Somethen wrong wit dat?"

"These are my people, rat. They are murdering and enslaving us, and you think thats the best news you could have heard all day?"

"It's cause it is." Gandal huffed "So what if dey take a few more slavebeasts? It means less food fer der rank an' file, an like every bleeding woodlander dey'll overstretch der lines as dey always do. More angry beasts who get det kin murdered or put in chains means more beasts on my side. Ya see dat burning village? Ya see ruined homes, but I see burnen crops dat our foe needs to even live here. Dis is how real beasts do war, wit numbers an' wit. Deez beasts will kill demselves before dey kill us at dis rate, an' if dey move north, it gives us time to regroup."

Gaster left in response, angrily marching back down the hill rather than yell or chide the rat. Gandal only smiled harder. Gandal spoke to Olan next once the woodlanders left back to their camp. "Make sure der lads don't give away our position, an prepare to march der following day. We need to trail dem an' make sure dey don't come looken for us if dey do end up goin north."

"Ya dink they will attack Redwall?" Olan asked

"Redwall or Salamandastron. Either or it be a win for us."

Gandal left down the hill after being satisfied with watching the distant yellow line move across green and barren hills towards the north forest. Olan blinked and sighed, being the last to leave. He continued to watch, a bit depressed he would not be able to bring the fear of the black clads alone into the hearts of this enemy. Yet, he would certainly try.
_

Olan returned to the camp after setting up patrols, his black clads would act as scouts for now, since he did not trust the woodlanders of Gaster's army to do it. Olan got to know the veteran militias, although he was far from impressed. He was a little shocked that the remains of the Long Patrol decided to even do such a suicidal raid and got themselves killed over a group of older, less experienced creatures. True, there were a lot more of them, but Olan couldn't help but roll his eyes at the idea of it all. Then again, he also didn't mind that the Long Patrol were dead, and all he had to do was deal with overly friendly and meekish mice, hedgehogs, squirrels, and some otters.

"No, and no! Like I said last bleeding time, you will not treat my soldiers like slaves, you infenral long tailed creature!"

Olan's ears picked up as he saw his boss and Gaster in the camp, surrounded by angry and menacing vermin and woodlanders. None had brought up their swords or any other weapon, but they were all snarling and barking at one another.

"How der hells we goin to eat den, ya useless bush tailed wretch!? Ya beasts know how to cook good, an's all I ask is dat ya do so! For us in der very least!"

"Cook your own bleeding food, rat!"

Olan kept his distance as the two continued to argue and scream. Mela was cringing off to the side, sitting on a log with her paws in her face watching the whole thing unfold. Olan came over to her and she came to attention for him. Olan lifted an eyebrow, looking at his boss as she tried to explain. "One of the black clads, that weasel next to Gandal, dragged one of the squirrel's younger recruits to our side of the camp and ordered him to cook for them."

"Did dey actually make anyding good? Olan asked, partly joking. Mela shook her head. "Nay, though, apparently this isn't the first time they've been arguing about it. I think i've seen the same thing yesterday."

Olan had partly remembered. Gandal was marching along, mumbling and complaining to pass the time when one of the hedgehogs of Gaster's armies decided to hum a small hymn to bring some entertainment to their small march. The whole thing annoyed Gandal, who ever so dramatically accused the beast of trying to give away their positions, but was soon yelling and screaming far more loudly as Gaster. Yet, if things went just as well as they had yesterday, Gandal would have been calming himself when things got too heated.

The first few days of marching was not kind of either force, exhausted from marching and dizzy from bad rationing. Gaster had kept his beasts scouting for sources of food while Gandal kept his scouts keeping an eye on movement. The two argued over responsibilities and tactics, sentiments shared between the militia and hordebeasts. The woodlanders had all lost homes and loved one to Gandal's purges and raids, and the vermin viewed their woodlanders peers as little more than slaves to bully around. It was almost miraculous that the two weren't killing each other. The whole affair would have made Olan nervous had it not been so common now. His black clads complained to him non stop about small and trivial things, as if not understanding fully that the barely armed woodlanders next to them were not slavebeasts to push around, let alone an enemy. Mela at least was better known, a more willing slave to the horde who helped to it's menial duties.

"Enough!" Gaster finally yelled out as the group became more violent, their threats bringing snouts closer together. The group stopped as the squirrel leader pinched his nose with frustration. "Look, we can't cook for you, rat. We won't. Not unless you give something in return."

"What I am given in return is safety, ya idiot." Gandal snapped back. Gaster looked like he wanted to strangle the rat then and there, but he held back his tongue. Gaster looked around at his beasts and spoke to them "I'll handle this, shoo, all of you."

Gandal could see Gaster was not going to let this trouble down till it was resolved, the squirrel's beasts slowly departed from his company, and Gandal held up his paw to his vermin who did the same. Olan stepped forward, and so did one of Gaster's captains as Gaster growled "Work with me, you blasted vermin. Your beasts can't just take my beasts and bully them, get them under control."

"I can't feed me own army if yer beasts keep hoggen all der good spots for food." Gandal grunted. Gaster followed up quickly "Then order your beasts to forage for food."

"I have been campaigning fer seasons now, ya rot brained bush tail. If we were wit Kasg's army, he'd have ya strung up fer such disobedience. Ya need me a lot more den I need ya."

"And if my father were still alive, he'd have dragged your sorry behind to the great southern desert and chased you into it! I don't care if your former, rotting warlord would have done. I am not going to keep marching while we are all at each other's throats! Deal with me, give me something to work with!"

Gandal thought, and in some way, he couldn't help but have an inch of respect to this yelling, unreasonable creature before him. He certainly had a tongue, sure, but he also was pragmatic and willing to make peace. Gandal hated to admit it, but he truly did need the squirrel, it was extra hands and extra troops in case things went south, but getting them to do what he wanted was the trouble. With a loud sigh, he finally spoke in a somewhat defeated tone.

"Fine, I'll have me boys take up foraging fer me camp, but yer beasts have to take up der spots in scouting out fer enemies. If yer beasts will cook our meals, it will mean my boys will be more ready fer a fight an-"

"Cooking your meals will come with your beasts carrying our things, and I will accept nothing else."

Gandal gritted his teeth, angry at the response, but Olan spoke up a bit more to try to find a more reasonable solution. "Cook our meals, bush tail, an me boys can drill yer troops. Before ya say anyding on it, even ya gotta admit most of yer boys aren't battle ready, dey fought bandits and lonesome scum, not trained warriors. Most of our troops are veterans of Kasg's war, an we faced up against Long Patrol."

Gaster gave a critical eye to Olan, and so did his own captain, but after a bit of thinking it over, Gaster was having a hard time disagreeing. It was true, his militia weren't as well trained as Gandal's were, let alone as well armored. They weren't boys pretending to be soldiers, but they were experienced with dealing with individual bandits, not fully fledged units of armed woodlanders. He looked to his fellow captain and nodded his head, as the captain spoke up plainly "I know a few I can set aside to do your cooking, but we will need to do a lot more foraging for find a village to help us. We are running low on food as it is. We can dis-"

The captain was interrupted by Ganda; "Discuss der details later, till we see dem yella clads leave."

"Fine." Gaster turned and went away, and his captain followed. Olan didn't follow Gandal as he went in the other direction, mumbling and complaining to himself. No doubt the two would be at each other's throats again, but today at least was not going to be an internal fight. Olan looked behind him at Mela who was relieved. After a small bit of time, standing in one place and looking at her, he approached.
_

Night had fallen as Mela followed Olan out into the forest, carrying a few things she was not familiar with. She carried a small black cloth, a torch, and a strange knife. The two walked farther from camp, the light wind rustling through fur and the stars in the sky shined down on the blackened camp which dared not light a larger fire. Olan commanded Mela about, as he sat upon a small rock firmly buried in the ground. "Light der torch, we'll need light fer dis." He could barely see, but he could certainly feel as he kept his ears open for birds or movement. Mela felt a tinge of excitement as much as nervousness as she lit the torch and placed it into the ground, bringing light to Olan's face.

The rat looked weary and tired, but yet also sad as he spoke with a firm seriousness "Ya sure ya want dis, round ears? Dis is not somethen I can easily give."

"I had thought it over, and I want it. I won't say no." Mela said even more firmly than Olan did, impressing him. Olan tried to get up at first, but he felt a terrible pain in his chest and quickly sat back down. Mela came over as Olan had no strength to push her back. He looked down at his bandages and huffed. Mela, as if on que, pulled out some fresh herbs from a sack and gave them to Olan to eat. It dulled the pain, but it also made him slightly dizzy as he shook himself to be kept awake. Awkwardly, Mela apologized "I'm sorry about what Borbon did to you, Olan."

"Ya know him?" Olan asked, raising an eyebrow. Mela nodded "Loy mentioned him many times, how he and his father would fight, well, your boss an' such."

"Den ya got nothing to apologize fer." Olan shrugged as he regained his composure "Tis just war, der is nothing usually personal about it. Though, I do dank ye fer der sentiment."

Mela nodded, and Olan arose and smiled "If yer gonna stay in dis horde, gotta make sure yer one of us. Ya proved a lot more loyal den even one of der captains appointed by me chief, so wit confidence, ya can take Kasg's oath. Ya ready, Mela?"

"Y-yes." Mela somewhat felt unsure. What she was doing was an act of evil, an oath binding her by a dead warlord's word to a horde which she had only know to be evil, but Gandal was competent to her. Olan was too, and Gaster seemed a lesser beast compared to that foolish hare who got himself killed in Palewind. She wondered what her parents and siblings would think of her doing this, but she was after all doing this for them. She nodded, and said more confidently "Yes, I am ready."

Olan nodded and commanded her "Raise yer right paw, an' repeat after me."

Mela did so, raising her right paw as Olan looked more dignified and adult, speaking with a cold tone.

"By me companions an' friends an' kin in attendance, I confirm my eternal service to Kasg's Leadership, committed to his horde an' his black cause. I commit myself to his armies, to march under his banner, and to speak no ill tongue to him or his captains. I will stand my ground if asked, and will not falter in loyalty. I will spare no friend, no beast, and no creature that is an enemy of Kasg, he who inherits the earth. By my paw, I will bring death to the enemies of his realm, and swear onto him as my captain, my lord, and my leader."

Mela blinked and spoke the words which came best to mind, and although not proud in what she spoke, she repeated the words. "By the witnesses of Olan, captain of Gandal, I confirm my service of Kasg's lordship. I commit myself to his horde and cause, and I commit myself to his armies to march underneath his banner and speak nothing bad to his subordinates. No beasts, friend or foe, will be spared by me. By my paw, I will kill his foes, and swear onto his captain. My warlord." Olan knew that nothing said we perfect, but he nodded in acceptance of her wording. He took the black cloth and wrapped it around her neck, as Olan spoke with increasing softness.

"I would have given dis to my pup if he had come of age, Mela. I remember speaking dat oath, when I was faced with der black rat himself. He was sleeker den I remember, a little shorter den me, but his stare could make even wolverines shiver. Every single one of us took dat oath, and for beasts like Gandal it meant more den any other oath we had ever made. Ya don't take dis off, Mela. Ya are now sworn forever to his cause."

"That cause, sir, if i may ask. I won't need to be, well, killing friends after all this?" Mela suddenly asked. Olan looked up at her as he finished, and like with any potential vermin recruit he was tempted to lie to make them feel better. Yet, he shook his head. "If it is demanded of ya, you must do it. Kasg may be dead, but we still fight his cause. To build his empire as we had in der north. We built cities, Mela, an' we'd do so again no matter der cost to our own lives."

Mela frowned but nodded in acceptance. She knew better than any other what Gandal and his horde would be capable of, and it terrified her to think she would be a part of it. Yet, Olan spoke with comfort "Ye had kin, I take it?"

"Yes." Mela touched the black cloth, her face flushed with a reddishness of sorrowful remembrance. "When Jano first picked me up, I was heading back to my farmstead. I was hoping when I got home, mom would be cooking some very fine. Have you ever had soft cheese bread? Mom was proud to be named best cook in the villages, I-" Mela frowned, the terrible image of her mother's warped and horrified face clouded her mind and murdered the good thoughts she had. She twitched with anger as Olan held her in place. He could see her freezing up, much as he had learned of his own kin's death. Mela looked to Olan, feeling embarrassed almost "I don't want beasts to think sadly of it, they say you lost kin as well."

"Yes, I did." Olan was colder and sighed deeply "Me missus an' pup. Lad about der size of dis little rock over here. Wanted nuthen more den to become a black clad like his pa, like most of our pups were. It's not something ya think on when dey are dat young. I had brothers killed by hares during Kasg's war, but I thought nuthen of it. Dey were warriors an' got killed. But-" Olan paused, anger returning to him as Mela put her paws on his shoulder in comfort. She understood such a plight, as Olan took up the small doll in his paws he had upon his belt. "Maybe perhaps der seasons finally decided me an' Gandal lived too long. Maybe perhaps we were just unlucky. We did terrible dings, ya know dat, an' if ya truly are willing to go all der way, ya must prove it."

Olan produced a knife to her and showed an old wound in the bottom end of his paw, a small slit. Mela understood and took the knife in paw, but gave it back to Olan who was a bit surprised and disappointed. Yet, instead, Mela took out her father's sword and spoke.

"For my kin, I will take upon any price to save Mossflower, and to kill my family's murderers. If the seasons despise you so, they certainly despise me as well." Mela's eyes went wide for a moment as she pressed her paw into the sword and blood trickled out. Olan looked down, and he smiled widely at such fierceness. He nodded as he helped wrap the mouse's paw up.

"Welcome to der black clads, Mela. Kasg would have been proud."

---

Ash fell from the skies, as if heaven itself was burning. To some villages farther off, the ash was like a dark omen of an early winter, while others closer could see one of the great trees burn.

Mossflower was home to many species and many forms of foliage, trees as tall as walls jutted up from the forest floor and reached into the sky. Some pines could grow to immense sizes in the east, but none were as big as the Black Pine, a massive thistle infested tree which was the home to Mossflower's ravens and black birds. Many black birds were coming out from the trees and diving down upon the yellow divisions below it, only to be shot down in their charge by crossbows which pierced their unarmored hides. The caws of terror filled the air as more and more black birds abandoned the Black Pine and flew upward.

"Cawww! To me! To me!" Yelled the largest and most royal of all the black birds, flying high above the Black Pine. Bulp was the lord of ravens in Mossflower, a title which didn't have much merit beyond himself and his horde. He and his black birds had traveled south from the wintery lands of the north to nest, and his clan had made their home in the south. To most woodlanders, black birds like crows and ravens were massive and horrible creatures who preyed on death and younglings, but Bulp was always cautious. The raven was no fool, having a hefty iron armor and ancient, healed claw marks all across his underbelly. The armor had a spikey spine which ran all the way to his tail feathers, making it appear as if he were a flying lizard, a black dragon looking down at the battle unfold.

Bulp's captains flew with him, his honor guard as well, looking down with dismay and silent anger at the massacre unfolding. One of the older magpies peaked down at the burning tree that was there home, speaking as they flew in circles over it "My lord, ground beasts burn the tree to its roots! What are your orders!"

Bulp looked down even though he wish he hadn't. He had been warned by his scouts of an approaching yellow bannered army, which confused him at first. The banners of Mossflower were a darkish green, or even a reddish color The idea that these oversized morsels were a threat made him scoff back then, but then the woodlanders began to surround his tree and were throwing torches at it and chopping at its base. He had sent down his mate to see what was going on, and to perhaps chase away these nuisances, but for her efforts she was immediately slain by bolts. Bulp didn't care much for her, but he did care for her eggs, his future children and those who had just been born.

"Gather the wings of my horde, Yusaris, we need to drive the foe away from the Great Pine, our home!" He looked to a large crow to his left, he turned tight "Urnas, with me. Gather your workers and stealers, we must rescue our eggs and younglings before the flame devours both! Yunaris will provide us with precious time!"

The Southswarders looked up to see a gathering of many screeching black birds hovering into the air, quickly forming into three formations. The larger raven and a group of magpies waited as the crow and a large group of beasts dove down towards the 2nd Army of Southward. Forming up, the Southswards aimed high and unleashed a volley, but it wasn't enough to deter the charge of the black birds into their rank and file. Several beasts were clawed viciously, but others screamed as they were brought up into the air and dropped to the ground, a chorus of crunching sounds were heard all around.

Southward was not without its own birds, although most were couriers who quickly took flight to try to deter the black birds from another devastating attack as they ascended once again to prepare for another charge. Clawing at their tail feathers, the crows panicked to see a small swarm of smaller birds behind them, and quickly turned to face them. Perhaps thinking themselves braver, the smaller good birds of the 2nd Army did not last long against the crows who challenged them, even though they bought time for the Southswarders to continue burning the base of the great tree.

Bulp was busy elsewhere, his own birds provided cover and distraction as his magpies entered into the quickly illuminating tree to try to find the nests, only to find horror inside. Smoke plumed from the great tree as paranoid mothers refused to leave their nests, pecking at those who dared try to get close even as fire consumed them and their eggs. Urnas rushed to Bulp's nest, and quickly sought his eggs. There was an awful feeling in the magpie's mind as he tried to pick up one egg as a shout came from his master.

"Yunaris, you fool! Kill the ground beasts! They chop at our home!"

The tree began to shake, and birds continued to flee from the tree only to be cut down in waves by the Southwarders picking them off. Magpies dropped eggs from the skies upon the ground as they too were felled. Knowing he had little time, the magpie captain grabbed only one of Bulp's eggs and quickly flew up, through the smoke fire only to bash his head into a branch. He recovered slowly, but he could feel the great pine was being felled right beneath his feet. The screams of dead birds were heard as Bulp joined in the last desperate charge to drive the destroyers away from his tree.

Urnas came out last, one of Bulp's eggs in his claws and flew hardily towards his master who circled above him, his armor dented with bolts and partly bleeding. Bulp looked down, at first pleased, until a bolt hit the magpie, exploding its way through the egg and hitting the magpie in the head, falling down into the smoke below.

The few who had survived were not allowed to live, as injured black birds and their eggs were smashed by the Southwarders who watched the broken raven lord fly up with his remaining birds and eggs, bleeding and injured. Bulp called out to his remaining captains ``This battle is lost, my wings! To me!" Bulp gave a vengeful look below him at the vast woodlander army, cursing them beneath his breath. The great tree finally was felled, falling and burning onto a hill's barren floor with cheers from the victorious Southwarders. Bulp had never seen such atrocities committed by woodlanders before, he expected this kind of thing from vermin, but never woodlanders.

The few who didn't immediately scattered joined up with their leader, silently leading them forward as they realized their grim situation. The Raven lord had a place he intended to go, but he spoke to his remaining captains.

"Gather the wings, we will land near the edge of the eastern forest to rest. We will return, and avenge our nests! I swear it, upon all those who had fallen, that I will punish those savages for their insolence!" The birds next to him nodded in agreement and flew in formation towards their destination, leaving the massacre behind them.
_

Frankfort watched from a distance with Nosbub and Shackleford at his side, his eyes peering upward to the retreating birds, slowly but surely being driven from Mossflower hopefully forever. Nosbub looked up with anger at his brave birds, his couriers, buying time for his soldiers, returning barely alive and mostly dead. Frankfort had been standing on a hill, as Shackleford looked on with amazement. "Truly fascinating, my lord. Black birds, the vermin of the avian species. To think that such a natural form of barbarism exists outside a cycle of violence, but yet remains violent, is truly fascinating."

"And also deserving of being removed." Nosbub quickly retorted. Frankfort nodded in agreement. He had been mostly silent, having stayed with the 2nd army with Samkon not far behind him and the 1st Army being led by Loy towards the eastern side of the great Inland Lake. He made his way down towards the camp, satisfied with his victory over the troublesome blackbirds as his army purged what remained of their wretched existence from Mossflower. Nosbub smiled grimly as he watched the tree sway partly to one side, and then fully began to crack and rattle before the burning husk was formally felled. A small piece of ash fell upon his nose, and its warm touch made him twitch lightly in his eye. Frankfort spoke up once the deed was done.

"General Nosbub, I want no survivors of these foul beasts. I want their eggs smashed. These troublesome flying bandits have been protected by the Long Patrol and their ilk for far too long."

"Of course, sir." The Black Twitch followed his general and Shackleford followed closely behind. Frankfort passed by divisions of the 2nd army, who stood at attention. The 2nd army was doing quick work of the blackbirds, one of many threats in Mossflower which would bother its people no longer. And certainly won't cause me damage if they too decide to attack! Frankfort was not a happy creature, as he met up with Samkon who returned to his side. The Prince spoke with a coldness to his general, as he listened to the sound of battle softly fading out.

"The villages who harbored vermin, how many did you say there were?"

Nosbub lifted an eyebrow, but quickly spoke with a sheepish tone "Four, my lord, during our march. Most were hamlets, and-"

"They were burned, correct?"

Nosbub would have been concerned had this not been what he wanted from Frankfort. He retorted quickly "Yes, my lord. The prisoners we got from there await your judgment as ordered."

The group made its way towards a large group of prisoners, bound in chain as they watched on with amazement and horror at the burning tree. No one would shed a tear for the black birds or their ilk, nuisances who preyed on both vermin and woodlander alike, but the brutality shown to them got an ounce of pity. Most who had been captured were those who remained firmly in their homes when the Long Patrol called for evacuation, mostly hamlet folk and a couple vermin stragglers. The vermin shuffled awkwardly towards the back if they could, only to find themselves shoved to the side as Frankfort approached. Surrounded by a grim halo of fire from the burning tree, ash swaying into his golden armor and fur, the squirrel looked on with a tired and rageful eye at the group.

"You have all resisted my offer for peace, I am told. I am Prince Frankfort of Southward, and we had come to rescue you from vermin filth, but now seek to free you from the shackles of incompetence and barbarism. You have resisted us, and some of you even sought to do harm."

One of the mice in the group came forward, an older mouse who held up a shackled paw "M-my lord, we most certainly had not!" He protested. The protesting got Frankfort's unwanted attention as he motioned his guards who quickly fell on the elder and beat him much to the shocked cries of his kin. Once pulled back into the crowd for safety, Frankfort made his anger quite clear "Like these black birds, they are our enemy and a foe of Mossflower, far from being friends to even the hated vermin. For your troubles given unto us, your immediate punishment is to work and labor for my army for twenty seasons, likely even more for some of you. For you vermin, you will work and bend your back till your days grow bleeding dark."

One of the younger squirrels pushed through the crowd and yelled up at the squirrel prince "Tyrant! No better than the Scourge or that Craven!" The younger squirrel was teenaged, and even the shackled on his wrists were falling off due to not being made for the likes of him. Frankfort looked at him with a terrible anger and fury and looked to Nosbub.

"Have this one lashed thrice. The rest, set them to work immediately."

One of the vermin, feeling wronged and perhaps a bit braver also came forward, yelling out in anger "Ya don't own us, bush tail! Dis is badger land! An-"

"Hang that one." Frankfort quickly retorted. The shocked vermin was silent and then began to get on his knees and beg as both were led away to their dark fates. Nosbub nodded to his soldiers as the squirrel prince looked on with a broken heart before turning and making his way towards his command tent. "I do not understand it, Shackleford. Why harbor their enemies, are we simply that naive as a people?"

"As a species, we are good beasts. You actions may not seem kind in the traditional sense, but I assure you it is sadly the only way for either of them to learn."

Frankfort nodded along, reassured somewhat. However, he looked around at the other serfs working on making sure the wagons of the army kept their supplies in tow, while others had stopped to watch the destruction of the blackbird nests. Frankfort and his council were awaited with one less member inside. One of the vermin serfs had stopped to watch the terrible sight, one which he was familiar with. It was 'Valan' Orange, having partly dropped a sack to look up at the burning tree, unaware he had caught the squirrel's attention.

He was there, no doubt having let Nurf in. Out of revenge.

Frankfort had a couple sudden thought which made his head hurt, but he still yet marched over and grabbed the surprised fox by the shoulder and shook him "Is there a reason you are not working, you stupid creature?"

"I-I-"

Frankfort angrily picked up the sack and threw it into his paws, his retinue coming over. Surrounded by grander beasts, 'Valan' was wide eyed and frozen with fear. Frankfort seethed "Well? You have your bleeding work to do, serf, do it! You and your like have a lot of work ahead of you to make up for the trouble your kin caused me!"

'Valan' gulped and spoke with a meekish fear of the golden armored squirrel "Y-yes, my lord. I will do as asked, I-"

"Bleeding, stupid beast." Frankfort continued, turning to his companions, working up a rant. "The idea a beast much like this took Lars from us, this stupid, hollow headed, idiot of a creature who can barely carry their own weight could have even harmed such a beast like Lars. It's an insult! He betrayed you, they all did. "These cretans, we come to save them from themselves, and they dare side with that degenerate murderer! That fiend!" They plot and scheme together, underneath the hallowed halls of Salamandastron.

Shackleford wasn't much paying attention to the rant, his eyes set on 'Valan' who only bent his head down with dismay. It was curious to him that such a beast should speak up in his own defense, but dares not to. 'Valan' for his part kept quiet before Frankfort turned back around to him. "Well? Are you deaf as well!?"

"N-no sir, only stupid." 'Valan' was hoping just telling the squirrel what he wanted to hear would save him, and it worked. Frankfort huffed "Finally, some honesty from you infernal lot." He shooed the fox away as gripped his head. He ordered Nosbub around "I feel like I am going mad, I must admit. Loy I am told is leading General Kelsum along quite nisely?"

"Yes, my lord." Nosbub said in a bored tone. He and Shackleford brought the prince inside his command tent where his councilors were waiting. Samkon took his place outside the tent to guard it, as Shackleford spoke softly to his council.

"It is good we heard of the black birds early on before they caused a mess, but liberating the south I fear will only reveal our intent. We need to clear out Nurf before he can regroup, and preferably before Gandal and the remaining rebels escape. Are we sure Gandal made his way towards the Inland lake?"

Nosbub nodded "Of course, my lord. The traitor Terrance-"

"The redeemed." Shackleford corrected. Nosbub cringed and nearly rolled his eyes had not everyone been watching him speak. "The former and redeemed Long Patrol, Terrance, has spotted tracks from a separate horde going in two directions. One went south, the other obviously being a part of this Gandal's retinue escaping to regroup with Nurf and his horde."

Guil pinched his chin as the otter looked down at a map of the country, not being very sure "It is strange, with Shackleford's aid, we can identify that this Nurf and Gandal work closely together, but the average woodlander? I wonder if they were the ones who went south. Though, regrouping at this lake, far from Gandal's normal home and operational base, leaves me perplexed."

Vergber nodded in agreement "It also doesn't make a lot of logistical sense, this nest of evil Nurf has traveled to is well hidden from what we are told. Not a place for three small groups to hold up in unless they plan to overcome their foes by retreating elsewhere. I wonder if they will regroup with this vermin horde near Redwall?"

Nosbub shot back with boringly vicious glances at them both. "Yes, yes. We get it, doesn't make sense, bla bla bla. These aren't general of Southward we are talking about Guil, these are vermin, dumb and stupid beasts who now no longer have a Long Patrol master to command them. If they do head north to another horde, they'll likely be unwelcome or seen as foes unless they got some Long Patrol commander to vouch for them! Let us not pretend these are intelligent beasts, please."

Guil scoffed at the Black Twitch's cruel words, but Shackleford added to his thoughts "This is true, and there is wisdom knowing the cranial capacity of vermin beasts. These are not creatures of advanced tactics, they attacked a fortified camp with the urging of more clever hares. To disguise their attempt to rescue their commander."

Frankfort listened, nodding in agreement. It made sense to him after all. He spoke up once again to his council "Once the fire fades, we'll move again and meet up with Kelsum. Seasons willing, he and his forces will capture Nurf alive, so I can see that wretch personally and return that small insult of trying to have me killed in my own bed! You are all dismissed. Nosbub, I want every bleeding village either waving my flag or burned, I will take nothing less than total surrender at this point. All of those who side against our good cause we must automatically think as foes, especially those who sought to join to Nurf and his evil lot."

There was a mixture of nods, although Vergber's was hesitant. Sitting in his command tent alone, the squirrel prince thought about today's activities. He would be proud of you, father. He would have done far worse, what is being done I am doing for the good of all Southward and Mossflower. They will bend knee, or they are my enemy. Frankfort smiled to himself, hoping that the ghost of Lars would at least bring some slight comfort to his sorrow.
_

Grok awoke from his bed, a large and imposing hedgehog who looked to the side to see his two grown kids looking outside the window of his hut. In the villages of Dalewood, hidden between two large hills, a clan of hedgehogs lived peacefully and in perpetual fear. Grok had spent much of the winter building a watchtower for the village's militia to keep a lookout for Nurf and his goons. It was funny in a way, the closer one was to Nurf's secret lair, the safer they were, as Nurf and his horde of vermin were often fearful of revealing themselves to the locals, and knew that bothering them often meant a quick end should they be caught. Yet, it wasn't uncommon for one of Nurf's evil goons to show their face, looking for trouble. Grok and some of his friends built the watchtower for an old and graying soldier to keep an eye towards the inland lake, scaring away the evil fox more than protecting the village.

Grok expected his kids to be daydreaming of being up in that tower, pretending to be soldiers much like he had been during the frog's incursion into Mossflower, but instead he could see a strange white fluff come down from the sky.

"Seasons, it isn't an early winter is it?!" Grok exclaimed as he got up from his bed. In their small thatch hut, the two siblings turned to their father, not smiling at his proclamation, and slowly shook their heads. "Tis ash."

"Ash, oh don't just." Grok went outside and much to his surprise, the other villagers of Dalewood were standing around in amazement, looking as the last heated fog covered their homes and whitened the ground beneath them. Grok's missus was outside with her family, her parents being paranoid of the worse. At first, Grok was horrified to think that perhaps this meant the watch tower had burned, but no, it was still there and the beast occupying it was looking out at the red lined snow. The heat of the ash filled Grok with concern as he went to collect his missus "Let's get back inside, no doubt there be some forest fire, bad for all our healths."

"Beasts approaching!" An old voice yelled out. Grok was half way to his house when from the village's southern path a group of beasts were marching up the path towards him and his family. The beasts were clearer now that the ashy fog had slowly disappeared, revealing yellow banners and an empty wagon heading their way. It was a group of hares, otters, and hedgehogs all dressed in black and yellow regalia, with two more finer dressed and better armored beasts approaching, an otter and a hare. The hare had his arm nestled in a wrap, and who didn't look very happy.

The soldiers quickly broke from their formation, with two rushing the opposite end in a spring and took up stations near it while others quickly took their stations at different corners of the village. Three of the soldiers, who looked more casual and held larger packs then the others, looked up at the guard station with delight. The otter captain of the group came to the middle and made his orders "Gather everyone to the center, quickly now! This isn't the last village today, lads."

Grok and his missus found themselves being herded alongside their sons to the center of the village and others were brought out and intimidated to join them. Once lined up, the hare came to front and yelled out at them.

"I am Captain Murchan of Southward, Officer of the 2nd Army. This is captain Gythan, my peer-

The otter came to front, looking cold and annoyed as he corrected the hare somewhat "I am Gythan Springriver, Captain of the 2nd Army of Southward under General Nosbub Verg Von Gazbring the third. I am here on behalf of Prince Frankfort, coming to save this land and it's people from-" Gythan looked around at the housing, huffing with cringe at what he saw. "This. We are saving you from the evils of the vermin and those who control them, you and your families are now all citizens of Southward unless you protest."

There were confused murmurs and estranged looks, but Grok felt uneasy as Gythan and Murchan looked at him and his sons specifically, before nodding to one another. The elder of the village came forward, demanding to know what was truly going on, trying to be informative of where these estranged soldiers were. Gythan and Murchan coldly ignored such requests and the elder was pulled back into the group. "Is there any who does not agree to vassalage, speak up now."

There was no beast amongst the frightened hedgehogs who dared speak up, surrounded by beasts looking down at them. Murchan spoke up again "Good. These three lads will be your garrison commands, aligned with the loyal village of Rumpreed. They will protect your village from harm, and you will treat them nicely." The awkward soldiers waved to the hedgehogs who just gave them blank stares. Murchan then again spoke up "Our army requires resources and food, which is why you will be providing ten boxes of fresh produce by the end of the season for the army's use."

"T-ten boxes." One of the hedgehogs said aghast. Dalewood mostly made its trade with vegetables and lumber, but to produce such a large amount of food as the season closes up, Grok looked insults. Now the woodlanders began to murmur as Murchan reaffirmed his demands "Yes, ten. Not including food for yourselves, but since you have so much wood you will be making your own crates, to a Southward standard of course."

"We don't got the space." Grok finally spoke up. Murchan's grin began to widen. "Oh, you say that, but I believe there is plenty of space once you remove a few houses in this little vale."

"Remove our houses!?" Grok said insulted, but was pulled back by his missus "None of that, Grok." Murchan nodded and pointed to a group of houses on the far end. He exchanged words to Gythan who coldly looked at him and sighed. Grok growled "Those are my bleeding lands, what gives you the bleeding right!?"

"Swearing at an officer, what is that Gythan, a fine?"

Gythan was silent, but informatively directed his spite to Grok "Five ducats for insulting a king's officer."

Grok looked angry, because he certainly couldn't pay such a fine. He never heard of a 'ducat' in his life, let alone seen a form of currency inside his home. Grok's missus joined in, now knowing they meant to destroy her home and that of her neighbor "You aren't collapsing where me an' me Grok sleeps, long ears. Not to build some bleeding vegetable garden, we don't have room for it other than feeding ourselves!"

"That's too bad." Murchan said with a mocking chuckle. "As citizens of Southward now, you will comply, or you will be punished." Grok growled at them, but dared not speak up in case things got even worse for him and his family. Bowing his head in defeat, he calmed his missus and his increasingly infuriated children from speaking up further. However, this was not the response Murchan wanted. Murchan marched over to them, and Gythan followed, the two seemingly looking the four over as if they were fine rugs for sale.

"You four look intensely strong for hedgehogs, don't you agree Gythan?" Gythan remained silent and stoic, as if trying to ignore Murchan's request. "You four wouldn't want to be in league with our foes, the vermin, would you."

The other hedgehogs looked to the Spikkats who found themselves more closely surrounded by the Southward soldiers. Grok looked furious, but shook his head "Of course bleeding not, we didn't build that big ol' tower with these two paws to be friends with the likes of the vermin."

"Good, then you wouldn't mind proving it then."

"Prove how?"

"Well, just prove you are an enemy of the vermin."

Grok gave a confused look, unsure what the hare wanted. "If you want me to speak ill of the vermin, I can and-"

"No, prove you are an enemy of the vermin."

"How!?"

"Just prove it."

Grok couldn't, cause he still had no clue what the hare wanted. As if on que, Murchan motioned to his soldiers who quickly pounced on Grok and his family. The hedgehog punched one of the soldiers who grabbed onto him as the two officers stood back and watched the four get dragged to the cart. Murchan spoke to the frightened crowd as Grok found shackles being clasped onto his paws and ankles, connected by a lead of chain locked to the cart, as if prepared for him. Grok and his family protested, but none of the frightened hedgehogs dared not speak up as Murchan spoke harshly "Now, as enemies of the vermin, you good folk certainly will find no trouble holding firm to witness the resistance of these sympathizers. By orders of Prince Frankfort, these simple folk will learn the meaning of civilized life in our camp, laboring for us for twenty seasons before they can return home. My soldiers will make sure you folk keep to your quotas, and those who resist will be sent straight away to become laborers for our camp."

There a terrified look exchanged to Murchan as the wagons began to pull at Grok, cursing him "To the black forest with you hare! Let me out of this shackle an' I'll show you what I can do! Frog licked cretan!" Grok's resisting voice disappeared as Murchan marched his soldiers out of the village, leaving a yellow banner hanging above it.

Grok's cries of resistance faded as he and his family marched, with Murchan and Gythan both threatening them with the lash should they get out of line. Grok continued to argue with the hare "The hells is this all about, if you wanted me to beat upon some vermin, that's all ya had to say! What is the meaning of this, I demand you at least tell me!"

Murchan wasn't listening, at least somewhat. He turned his attention to Gythan who marched alongside him "Quite mouthy, Gythan. You sure you don't want me to take them?"

"That won't be necessary, Murchan."

"Mouthy?" Grok asked. Gythan looked to Grok as the group marched, giving an audible sigh and he informed him. "Apologies, hedgehog, but this is not normal procedure. Once we get back to the main camp, you will be under my orders."

"Your orders, who the hell do you think you are?"

"Liberators of course." Murchan shot back. Grok gave the hare a dark look, but it only emboldened the hare. "Gythan, quite a poisoned look he has as well, Hopefully your overseer will be happy with this lot, hmph."

"Yes, hopefully."

"I demand to know why you are arresting us! What is this about!?" Grok demanded. He had his suspicions, his anger boiling as it made his family uncomfortable to see him in such a mood. Gythan turned his critical eye to the hedgehog and his own mood darkened "I would prefer you not speak, serf. We need laborers for our camp, and my division. Good cooks, workers, and others. Since my prince decided to promote most of my own serfs to soldiers."

"If you needed such help, why not just ask us!?" Grok's missus spoke up now in equal fury. Gythan looked forward at the road, as if trying to not give mind to them "Cause, we will need beasts for the long haul and I am not taking on vermin workers for my division. You looked strong enough to work."

"So that whole business back there, just a lie, hmmm?" Grok growled. Gythan shrugged "Not very, depending on a way of thinking of it. You resisted, we arrested, that is our orders. We'd have done much the same even if my potential workers didn't escape from Palewind."

"Palewind? The Long Patrol know you are doing this!?"

"Yes, and they disagreed quite harshly." Gythan rolled his eyes. Grok and his family were pulled forward as the two corrupt captains looked around at the haunting visage of Mossflower Forest and towards the huge Southward camp parked near the edge of the inland lake.
_

Grok got to know a lot more than he needed to as he and his older son lifted a large crate onto a wagon he had come to hate more than any other. He looked with a furious look at the iron ring attached to the wagon, where the chain lead was locked to which dragged him, his wife, and his sons into this camp to work under Gythan and his division. He learned of the horrors that Southward visited upon vermin and woodlanders alike. Grok was never one to shed a tear for the vermin or black birds, but as he learned more of what was happening to him and others, he couldn't help but pity them. Under the threat of the lash, Grok and his son lifted another crate into the wagon, full of cabbage from a village not far from his own. Like all serfs, he had been subjected to a harsh cleaning, the spikes on his back were fiercely trimmed, and he wore the baggy clothes of a serf with a yellow vest. His sons and missus wore the same clothes all serfs now wore.

Grok wiped sweat from his brow, watching as other fellow serfs did similar miserable work. Some were from villages much like his own, having been braver in their resistance. He felt embarrassed that the reason he now stood in this bondage was because his master had a need for strong laborers, but not the means to getting them legitimately, Gythan had not been cruel to him or his family, but he certainly had not been kind either. Grok worked hard to not get the threat of harsh punishment waved over his head, looking with contempt at a nearby patrolling overseer.

"You think ma is doing well." Grok's son asked, preparing to lift another crate. Grok nodded "She can be as fiery as me, and no doubt is grumbling as I am. Just keep that lot happy for now." He whispered. The younger hedgehog smiled and confidently piped up "For now?"

"Keep your voice down." Grok warned. Yet, it wasn't enough as he heard a sudden cracking of a whip over his head, sending him and his son flying downward. The overseer came over, pushing the two up as he angrily spoke to them "Enough mumbling about, these supplies won't pack themselves! Go grab some of the sacks from the supply tent, now!" The overseer looked furious, as Grok huffed and obeyed.

He counted his blessings however, knowing that compared to others, neither he nor his sons felt the hash crack of the whip on their backs just yet, but he wondered how long it would be till they somehow got out of line. The two walked with tired feet towards their destination, but Grok's eyes perked up when he saw another beast heading his way.

"Is that Tangran?" Grok's son asked. He had to be sure he was seeing him right, the otter did not recognize him at first, as he was nudging along his followers. He stopped to get a good look at the strange serfs staring at him, stopping only to say "Grok? Grok Spikkat?"

"Seasons, Tangran, how the hells did you an' your bleeding mercenaries end up here?" Grok approached with a friendly demeanor and the otters did the same. Though, Tangran's mood was depressed when he saw his friend in the strange yellow wears.

"Haven't seen you since we were bashing in frog skulls."

"Same, you big lug. Ummm, Grok, whats with the yellow?" Tangran asked rather dumbly, as the big hedgehog ranted. "That blasted otter, Cap'n Gythan they call him came to my village. He and his pal, Murchi or Marchen or whatever that hare's name is! Bullied me and my family, threatened to tear down me home, and then asked me weird questions about vermin and next thing I know they had me lashed in chains to a blasted wagon! Turns out that black and yellow otter wanted slavebeasts, and he certainly got it."

"Slav-" Tangran huffed "You didn't resist them did you?"

"I should have done so! Barely even got a good word out before they had us beaten and dragged here! Missus and me boys too. You aren't a prisoner yourself?" Grok had to ask. He knew Tangran and his otters, northerners and victims of Kasg the Craven's cruel campaign. Viciously opposed to any beast to be bound in chains as they once were, or so they claimed, Tangran took a more stoic stance. "You are mistaken, ol' friend. You aren't a slavebeast, just a serf. As are most of those others in the camp. I was joining the likes of Borbon you see, paid all nice and well to join in this little campaign. You'd not believe the organization of these folks, Grok, help-"

"What do you mean by that Tangran?" Grok asked abruptly. "They are treating me and my kin as slaves. They are treating those folk over there as slaves." He pointed to some of the vermin near the carts, some being pushed by one of the overseers for not doing their job fast enough. Tangran sneered "Oh don't tell you pity that lot?"

"Do you not pity me then?" Tangran frowned and turned to Grok who came up close "Tangran, look, yer in this camp all snug like, but I'm goin to get out of here an' head north, to middle Mossflower till this all blows over. We need your help." Grok demanded of him "Me missus and I are suffering, and so are my boys. We fought together, Tangran."

"Aye. We did." The otter frowned, looking away rather shamefully. The pause made Grok nervous, and then hateful as he asked more firmly "You are going to help us, right?"

"Grok, apologies mate. I can't help ya." Tangran and his surrounding otters gave awkward glances at the hedgehog who grunted at them. "Well, why the bleeding hell not?"

"Just walk with me mate, and-"

"We can't, Tangran, or that slaver over there will bleeding lash us." He pointed to the overseer, and Tangran continued to frown. He gave an accusing glance at Grok "Then stand there an' listen."

The otter mercenary folded his paws "Look mate, whether ya resisted or didn't, ya gotta know that this is for the better for this forest. I was up there, ya know that? Up in the north when Kasg an his horde came. They cut off the tails of me whole holt except for me an' me boys, an forced em' into squalor. Me an' me lads haven't been home in an age, I was yer boy's age when they took me down south, building roads. I lost friends cause some blasted rat thought overworking us to death was funny. I don't want that for Mossflower, and now there are two huge vermin hordes gathering strength in the north, an' these beasts may be half mad, but they got an army to beat em' both back!"

Grok and his son listened, but neither looked convinced. Tangran didn't want to lose a friend and fellow warrior over such disagreements, but he explained the best he could "Look, these folk say they may be conquering, but they treat ya a lot better than they treated me in the north. I'd wanna help ya, I truly do, but I can't just go making enemies of these lads either. I mean, can't ya just work through it, till at least them vermin are all buried deep in the ground?"

Grok's son looked at him confused "Work through it? This?"

"I mean, ya? Work on through it, for now. Its just hauling a few crates, and me an' me boys can likely help and-"

Grok help up his paw, having heard enough "They demolished me home and put me and me kin into bondage, what is the matter with you to declare I must 'work through it'?! I had no trouble till this lot stole us here, and now you of all beasts won't help cause ya think this is going to be helping Mossflower!?"

"Yes." Tangran said suddenly, more seriously than he had been previously "I don't like it fully either, didn't like it when they killed all those Salamandastron hares, but I tolerate it cause they are the only beasts going to save this land from the vermin! Would have ya preferred that them northerners came down and did ill to you!?"

"These beasts are doing ill to us now!"

Tangran's lips quivered in anger, but he felt sorrow for being so frustrated. He held his paws to the side and frowned "I am sorry, Grok, but me mind is made up. I won't stop you, but I can't help ya."

Grok stared with a deep spite at the otter, before making his true thoughts known "I hope you enjoy your time in this bleeding horde, you ingrate beast. I truly do, cause when I get out, I will make damn well sure you are unwelcome in every place I step in! To the hells with you and your beasts." With his curse spouted, Grok angrily marched off, and his son followed. Tangran stood there, insulted as his otters kept silent.

I was starting to wonder if he had chosen the right side, or if he truly is damned. Yet, he knew Grok would try to escape and spoke to his fellow beasts in a more humbled mood "They'll make their escape, lads. You see anything, ya keep your mouth shut, an' help em if they get caught, alright?"

There was a nod amongst the warriors, who continued behind their leader, less sure of their loyalties than they had since this morning.
_

Night had fallen in the Southward camp, with the sentries being on high alert. There was no time to build proper camp defenses, so small defensible positions and high points were covered with temporary stakes and large patrols. The 2nd Army was joined by the 3rd as it laid down its tents nearby, and the army began to drift to sleep. The serfs, ever controlled, were corralled into their respective barracks, tired and exhausted from the long marches and recovering from wounds and humiliations. Grok was in one such tent, pretending to sleep until his overseer had firmly left. He awoke and looked up from the cot of his barracks, and joining him was a weasel.

"They be gone, spike back." He whispered. Grok nodded in the dark and slowly got off the cot and went towards the side of the tent, looking in various directions. He had spent much of his captivity plotting his escape, and gathering those who wished to do so. He was still cursing the otter mercenary in his mind, the thought a beast once damned to slavery himself would refuse to help him was not something he found abominable. Woodlanders were after all supposed to help their fellows, especially in situations such as this, it was told in the old stories.

Grok was joined by the weasel, as they heard the entire tent moving and coming awake. Grok repeated his plan to the weasel, making sure his dumber but more stoic acquaintance knew what to do.

"Guards patrolled in a circle, means there is a path out towards the denser forests, we make a roundabout at the remains of the burnt black bird pine and head north. Most of the soldiers are asleep, right?"

"If it be like last time, dey'll won't notice us leaving much. Nurf, Gandal, and dem Long Patrol got in, won't be long for us to get on out." The weasel was not well known to Grok, but he wouldn't call him friend. He learned the weasel was a failed kidnapper who joined several hordes in the east, and only returned to Mossflower to extort his own missus after she had her pups. That missus and pups were in the tent, and were the only beasts who awoke and quickly went to the back of the tent, refusing to move or escape with the group. Grok felt he couldn't be surprised by such things, but vermin were their own world of madness.

Yet, the weasel was still competent and was just as desperate to get away. Many guessed he was a violent beast, thus fulfilling the prequiste to be murdered should the Southwarders were to discover his history. "There is an armory we can get weapons from not far from here." He commented "Maybe get ourselves some good swords to make this escape easier."

Grok nudged him "No! We meet up with the others, then make our way south as planned. He looked behind him, seeing his sons and his missus having joined him. They motioned they were ready, having made a sack of provisions. Two other vermin formed behind them as Grok awaited for one of the sentries to make his pass farther off from the tent.

The group slowly stepped out and began to move, hiding in the shadows of the tent as the weasel led them on. The weasel motioned them to approach or stop if he saw something, while Grok kept the fearful group moving. They made their way to a dark spot behind one of the tent rows used for dumping supplies, and gathered up with a few others. Most were woodlanders, with only a few braver vermin. They whispered to Grok "You ready? Gample said he couldn't make it, I don't think he is coming."

Grok nodded, the beast mentioned was a fearful creature, and he was as desperate to get out but not desperate enough to go against the woodlanders he cut off one of his fingers. Grok had not spent long in the camp, but his disgust of the Southwarders was growing. He had never seen woodlanders act the way these folks did, how angry and spiteful they were. One of the hares had taken out his anger for a fallen comrade on one of the foxes he had gotten to know, and had frightened him from ever trying to leave.

"We'll have to do what we got. Me an' the stronger beasts will lead, we'll likely have to bash in a few beasts to get away."

"Can we not make noise?" One of the escapers protested. The weasel co-leader growled "Can't be avoided, nitwit. Now all of ya, keep quiet yerselves. We need to be careful as we do this. Kill dem folk all quick like an' be out dis infernal camp by midday."

Grok nodded with approval, although others shifted uncomfortably. Taking the lead, the weasel led the group as they shuffled past the first set of tents, taking them towards the empty kitchens to find cooking knives to use. The group hid between the shadows of tents, hearing the sleeping soldiers inside them. The group made it past the first roadblock in their escape, making their way out of the first group of tents and coming across the camp's bordering sentries.

The weasel spotted two beasts who had their backs turned to him, and he approached with another vermin. Sneaking up behind them. Yet, before the weasel could strike down on the two soldiers boringly looking out at the forest, watching as a larger patrol was making its rounds in the distance, there was a horrifying scream behind them.

Grok turned first, seeing a group of soldiers having snuck up on them, fully awake and fully armed they had grabbed onto one of the woodlanders and pulled them away as other soldiers quickly advanced in on them. "Escape! Prisoners are escaping!"

The weasel was distracted, but turned quickly enough only to see the beast he was about to kill was backing away from him, taking out his sword. Grok yelled at the others, realizing the worst has come to pass "Scatter! Run!"

The weasel co-leader tried to stab at the guard, surprising the professional soldier with how forceful and strong the beast , it wasn't enough when the weasel was cut down by a bolt to his chest by another soldier. Grok was horrified as he looked behind him, his fairly decently sized group scattering in all directions only to be caught by guards he did not even see. They came out of shadows, as if awaiting them, as he grabbed onto his missus and pulled her forward.

The group was making its way towards the forests, the initial surprise had stirred the guards, and the more violent members of Grok's group provided at least some fodder for his own escape. Yet, then he saw problem number two barreling down at him, as that previously distant patrol was quickly converging on him. Grok and his family continued to move, but things didn't go well. His group was being smashed into the ground by running hares and otters who dove onto the fleeing and crying serfs.

"Pa!" Grok turned, seeing his younger son get caught by a hare who grabbed onto his leg. Grok went over, trying to kick the hare off, taking the surprised woodlander and bashing his head into a tree, knocking him into blackness.

As more beasts were caught, the harder it was for Grok to swerve around them. Grok and his family were slowing down, his missus huffing to his own concern as he wondered how long she could take it. Yet, the worst came to pass when a group of hares came to the front of him, having caught up and with weapons drawn. Grok, screaming with rage, bursted through them and flung himself on one, barreling him into the bushes. The hare was shocked as Grok hoped his family would make it through with him, scattering enough for him to collect them. He arose, continuing to run and looking behind him, seeing movement going off into the distance.

He was stopped by himself when he noticed that movement wasn't from his wife, but from one of the woodlanders yelping as they flung themselves into the forest. In the darkness of the forest, he tumbled, trying to keep out of the torch light as he realized he had made it farther past the sentries.

But his family did not.

Grok could see his exhausted missus huddled with his sons as the soldiers swiftly surrounded them, harshly taking them by the paws and yanking them back to the camp. Most of the escapees were far from lucky, either coming back injured or even dead. The stirring of the camp brought its officers to awake, as Grok could spot movement beyond the bushes, but couldn't do much but watch. Grok turned around, his heart laden as he went in any direction far from the enemy camp.

He met up with a few others who rested as they were relieved to finally escape, but were demoralized from their decently sized group now reduced to barely three, including Grok himself. Grok and the others wandered, wondering what to do next, but original plan to head towards middle Mossflower, but Grok now was tempted to return to the camp to be with his family. It did not take long as he led the group forward to run across another beast in the dark.

Gaster came out of the bushes alongside a few others, blinking at Grok who was revealed in the twilight hours. He and the others backed away in fear at first, but Gaster spoke in a calm manner.

"You are escaping from Southward? I am Gaster Greatvine, and we are enemies of Southward."

"We?" Grok asked, calming himself as he saw others approach. He began to finally smile, realizing the kind of beasts he had come across. "Names Grok Spikkat, Mr. Greatvine. How can I be of service?"

---

Frankfort was guided by Samkon towards the command tent, his mood not having improved at all since yesterday. Kelsum and Gosland had come to the camp personally, with Kelsum leaving his army to be a part of this general meeting. Frankfort had been informed of the recent escape attempt by some of the serfs, and he was somewhat conflicted. Until recently, this had not been much of a problem, but there were a nice chunk of woodlanders who tried to escape more than just vermin. Vermin could understand them as being spies and saboteurs trying to get back to their hordes, but woodlanders? He supposed most were like other rebels he had killed previously, but they certainly knew the consequences. They should know, shouldn't they?

Frankfort shook his head with disgust at the thoughts, as he joined his generals in the command tent. Nosbub and Shackleford were side by side, but the mouse scholar was busily looking through one of his own books, cheerfully discussing his favorite passages with a less than interested hare. Kelsum and Gosland were opposite of them, speaking with Frankfort's advisors.

Taking his place in the middle, the notable absence of Lars loomed heavily over Frankfort, as after a long pause and silence, he began the meeting. "General Kelsum, is the 1st Army in position I take it?"

"It is, my lord." Kelsum said, but his voice wasn't very cheerful. "Although, the absence of the 2nd and 3rd armies has been noted. I am told these forces have stopped to liberate villages, something I can understand, but what I don't understand is the burning of one of these larger pines-"

Nosbub quickly interrupted him, followed by a twitch of his nose "General Kelsum, I do hope you don't mean to chide us for getting rid of an entire horde of bleeding 'black birds' as they are called. They murdered quite a large group of my own fine birds."

Kelsum frowned, and then grew displeased with the Black Twitch's remarks "General Nosbub, I am merely saying that if we are deal with this threat such as Nurf, perhaps informing him of our encroaching presence is not a good idea. I could see that ash as far as my own camp, and the casualties of your birds and others for beasts who had not bothered us is-"

"Apologies General Kelsum." Frankfort spoke up suddenly. "I had ordered it once I heard that such a horde existed. I believed they would have been a future, if not minor, threat to woodlander lives as it is. It would have been inappropriate to let them live."

Nosbub smirked, adding onto Frankfort's voice "Yes, do tell me more how to command my army in the king's name, General Kelsum. If you think I enjoy stopping my entire division to deal with these foul threats, perhaps you should be a bit more gracious that such an evil is now gone forever."

Kelsum kept himself silent, not wishing to even entertain the black hare. Frankfort continued "By the time we arrive, Kelsum, will Nurf be dealt with?"

"His horde is from what I understand far too small, but he is well hidden and clearly skilled at stealth. The otter Loy and his friends however have been leading us along, and if we can ambush the group before they regain a footing or numbers, Nurf and his allies will be brought to you in chains. Or dead."

Frankfort nodded "Good, I will not delay you then. However, there is one last thing I must tend to. There was an attempted escape last night amongst some of our serfs." Frankfort gulped and shook his head "Normally, for vermin, I would have had them hanged as going back upon their pact with me for their servitude and willingness to learn civilized ways, but these were mostly woodlanders."

Gosland quickly picked up on Frankfort's concerns "You seek to punish them, my lord?"

"Yes, and I do not fully know how. It was made clear what we will do if they continue to resist our liberation of them, or at least I so hoped, but most of these serfs were new. I seek good council on this matter."

Shackleford and Nosbub kept up a silence, but exchanged looks between one another as Kelsum gave his advice "My lord, these are serfs, and I believe you can forgive one attempted escape. Gosland and Nosbub both have a set of shackles to put upon such prisoners should they attempt it again, or be believed to attempt. Just as we did in the campaigns of your father to civilize the southern woodlanders, we must show our ways are superior to savagery and barbarism."

Gosland nodded "Aye, if you so wish my lord, I can take them on as serfs and have them distributed amongst my harder laborers. It'll be harder work, but it'll keep them busy and serve as a form of punishment."

There were nods of agreement amongst Guils and Vergber, which somewhat surprised Frankfort. He had almost hoped for the advice of lighter punishment for lashings, as he turned to Nosbub to see what he would think. The hare only gave a nasty twitch of his arm as he slowly nodded and spoke with a strange silence "Hmph, I suppose. I'd normally suggest a lashing or two to keep them in line."

Kelsum raised an eyebrow as the cold and bored look of the Black Twitch stared back at him. Kelsum did figure his peer was just bored of the meetings and desired to just go off and do something else. He nodded and the meeting concluded, as the generals and advisors left one by one. Frankfort was about to leave himself back to his tent when Nosbub and Shackleford got in front of him "My lord, mind if we speak for a moment, in privacy?"

Frankfort nodded, as Shackleford came up close, speaking in a low tone. "We did not wish to speak, my lord, for fear of what others may say. Me and your good general Nosbub have been discussing the woodlander escape from the camp, and I fear the entire group is tainted. My lord, a lighter punishment will not suffice, and give a poor impression on the improving serfs we already have in the camp."

Frankfort had not questioned the scholar thus far, but raised an eyebrow to this "Your advice is treasured, good Shackleford. You think there should be harsher punishment?"

"Yes." Nosbub gritted his teeth, trying to not reveal his annoyance with his monarch "Yes, my lord. These serfs are clearly aligned with the will of our enemies, and if they seek to escape once, they will likely do so again and take secrets or become enemies." Nosbub then smiled, bringing down the hammer of his sly tongue to the Southward prince "My lord, it is my sole advice that we must give unto them the ultimate punishment, and be rid of them. All of them. For traitors deserve nothing more and nothing less."

"Your zeal is noted, but I had just told Kelsum that-"

"My lord." Shackleford said in a sad tone "Perhaps it is best that Kelsum and Gosland, nor any except us in this tent, need to know." Frankfort was shocked. Shackleford continued, seeing Frankfort looking rather distressed "My lord, I would never in a thousand years suggest lying to our own general about such actions, but we must consider this. Not every beast can have a hard heart, especially towards their fellow woodlanders, but in a war against the stupidity and evil of the vermin, we cannot forget our true enemy is the Long Patrol and their verminous badger masters. The badgers are clever and subtle, and we must arise above it. I know good beasts like Kelsum or Gosland would never truly understand the need for such secrecy, but we must deal with such foolishness before it gets out of hand. If the vermin serfs see how good we treat the woodlanders, who is to say they will become ambitious themselves, using our mercy as a mace to get what they want and undo our good work?"

Frankfort was silent, and he wondered what Lars would do, but thankfully for the squirrel prince, Nosbub had that answer.

"My lord, Lars and I were not the best of mates, but I know truly deep in my heart that this is what he would have wanted. He was a hard and battle worn hare. He would not have outright called for it, but he would have advised it."

Frankfort thought for a longer time than usual, his general and resident scholar in front of him. He shut his eyes, trying to figure out what Lars would do in such a situation as this, but that voice returned to him. He would have wanted this. Frankfort pursed his lips and then let out a sigh, coming to attention for the two as he spoke his commands.

"You have my permission, General Nosbub. Just-" Frankfort frowned "There is no youngsters amongst the escapees, right? I hope I don't have to tell any good beast about such things, right?"

"There were none, but I will double check." Nosbub patted the shoulder of his future monarch "Leave such things to me. I have a captain, Murchan, who will personally handle the deed. You can at least trust me with such deeds."

Shackleford frowned as the squirrel made their way past them, as Nosbub smiled. Shackleford was less sure than he had been, wondering openly "Oh I do hope our lord understands these things at least. Such foulness amongst our own, it is unthinkable."

All that matters is his trust. Nosbub slowly began to smile, not at the evil deed he would soon order, but the squirrel to rely more solely upon his advice.
_

The familiar sight of Nurf's skeleton adorned keep filled Loy with dread, and it made Eskert sick. The two, moving far ahead to scout out Nurf's hideout, looked over the ruined tower for which a dim glow came from within the bowls of it. The keep's skeletal figures, lined up on spikes or resting beneath the frame of the ruined tower. Nurf's tower may have been close to the lakeside of the Inland Lake, but it was well hidden by the tall trees, bushes, and was overgrown enough to make it difficult to see unless one came up close enough to it. Eskert had at first been baffled how such an evil, death-ridden keep which smelled awful as he approached could have fooled the Long Patrol. Then he began to think that perhaps Shackleford was right, but also realized another interesting problem. There weren't many beasts around them, not even a village. Maybe perhaps some vermin homes, but to the east lay thicker forests, and to the west the waters of the lake itself.

"You think he is still in there?" Loy asked, but was quickly shushed by Eskert. The mouse kept a paw on the hilt of his sword and kept a very low voice "I don't know, nor do I want to find out. Keep an eye on the bushes and trees."

The two snuck forward towards the edge of the main stairs leading up to the lair, but were stopped when Loy spotted a beast coming out. He rammed into Eskert and grabbed him, diving the two into some bushes. The two peaked up to see a strange sight, a ferret trying to run out of the keep itself. His paws were bound, and he was looking fearfully behind him, with scars across his face and nose.

Loy's blood froze when he saw Jano Whiplash swagger out of the keep with a big smile on his face, taking up a big stone and harshly slinging it at the ferret's back. He rushed down as the ferret dropped further and further down the stairs, whimpering as his fellow ferret dragged him back towards the keep.

"Ya really dink that was going to save ya, Iscal? Ha! I'm starting to dink ya don't like being in Nurf's horde!"

"Let me bleeding go, ya bloody degenerate!" Iscal yelled out in vain, the back of his neck pulled further back into the keep.

"Oh, I'm gonna have too much fun breaking ya in, ya stupid ill-bred beast." Jano sounded the happiest in his life, which made Loy disturbed. Once the two disappeared back into the evil lair, Loy informed Eskert of the evil beast he had just bore witness to "Jano. Jano Whiplash we used to call him." Loy said with a dark spite "If he is here, Gandal is as well! Cretan lashed me back more times I wish to remember. He-"

"Calm yourself, Loy." Eskert nudged him. The two approached the keep again, keeping an eye on the door. Eskert was a little surprised how few sentries there were, if any. Neither he nor Loy had spotted them, but he looked up to see a small stand on the tower with small climbing stones reaching up to it. Likely there had been a sentry before, but he supposed that the vermin stupidly held them inside.

The two made there was to the place which Loy had snuck in before to get a good view of the inside of the lair, as Eskert looked up with disgust at the impaled skeletal remains of woodlanders, and even some vermin, of varying sizes. He was angry that a beast like Nurf had once even been considered just apart of daily life, wondering which village this mad and infernal creature would raid in some off-season. There was a grim feeling of satisfaction that once they returned to Kelsum with all the information they needed, Nurf would be gone for good.

"Lift me up Loy." Eskert commanded. The otter helped his friend up to a small ledge which allowed him to ascend towards an open window higher up. Eskert reached down, helping Loy get some footing as they slowly arose towards the window and peered inside, and what they saw gave them slight pause.

Strewn across a bone covered room were a number of vermin, most were bound with ropes and looking worryingly at their captors. In the corner of the room, upon a large pile of old treasures was Nurf himself, squatting and looking down greedily at his horde, observing Jano bring Iscal into the room where he shoved the bound ferret into a group of others. The vermin who weren't bound were being guided over by Nurf's hordebeasts, who violently introduced them to their small clan's culture and customs of violence and hedonism. Eskert and Loy were almost amazed by how the vermin could so quickly go from being frightened of their captors to drinking with them, as one younger rat who joined in with the group gave an awkward smile as the older vermin showered him with bling and ale. Other vermin were being drilled in how to use a knife, or were being chided on how to properly sneak.

Yet, Loy took notice of something rather quickly, there weren't a lot of older and experienced beasts left, let alone any captain of worth. More importantly, Jano was the only beast who seemingly was in some manner of command as Nurf called out to him.

"Poor little vermin, thinking the pretties would allow them to escape. Why must they run from Nurf? Do I not feed them, give them nice shiny things?"

Jano gave a grim smile "Aye chief, ungrateful dey are. Ya want me to give em a couple striped backs, eh?"

"In front of my pretties!?" Nurf said with anger and shock, and Jano nearly flung himself back. Yet he calmed when the fox began to maniacally laugh "Ha! No need, pretties say it is enough they are caught! They'll make a nice fur coat for Nurf, and our horde. Don't you think so Mr. Carrotbreak?" Nurf looked at the skeletal remains of the fallen hare, its mouth gaping as if in some manner of silent scream. Nurf nodded his head, listening to whatever the voices came from the thing, voices of course only he could hear.

Loy and Eskert looked around more, counting out silently who was there, but Eskert paused when he spotted a tied up vermin far across the tower's hall, sitting uncomfortably on the ground, tied with rope. The vermin was giving a hopeful and horrified look to the mouse, who only could coldly look back at him. Eskert was about to pull Loy down to make a run for it, but the vermin would not survive much longer when one of Nurf's beasts came over to him, another freer vermin being shadowed by him.

"Ya wana be apart of dis horde, ya gotta learn to let go. Ya gotta be a killer an' a real hordebeast to be in dis horde, lad. Here, take dis knife and give it a go, eh?"

The newer hordebeast took a blade in his paw and played with it a little, having already lived in the temptations of Nurf's home. Guided by his mentor, the bound vermin was blocked from the view of Eskert, who began to scream. Eskert winced, not even wishing to wonder what manner of horror was being done to such a creature, even if he believed they deserved it.

Loy and Eskert slowly lowered themselves down and found themselves a long ways away from the fort, but never retreating their eyes from it. Loy whispered to his smaller friend. "I, ummm, don't think most of those beasts were there willingly, Eskert."

"That is because they usually aren't." Eskert huffed "Though, Gandal nor any sign of other foes are there."

"Borbon won't like it." Loy frowned, although he was disappointed only slightly. His hated foe laid comfortably in that keep, and the thought of shoving a javelin up that ferret's vile skull filled him with comfort. "I never understood it, Eskert. Why do the vermin do such things to each other, and why do they tolerate it? They clearly hate being there."

"It is because they are evil, Loy. Born and bred for evil. Nurf isn't keeping them prisoner, only melding them into his horde for comfort. The only thing unusual is that his methods are far more violent."

"Maybe we can save them from that at least." Loy and Eskert began to move away from the dark lair and toward Kelsum's army. Yet, Eskert felt annoyed by such talk, but he would refuse to show it. His thoughts turned to the soft heart of his former friend and rescuer, a glint of anger coming over him. "I would wish it so, Loy, but I fear they are already tainted. You saw what Nurf and his horde were doing in there, those vermin are taking those temptations of evil or being killed by that evil thing."

"I mean, if beasts like Dangan-"

"He is younger and not as tainted, but still tainted nonetheless." Eskert was really disliking to hear that name. "You have to remember, these are vermin, they are all evil Loy. Not a single one is without a hint of darkness in their hearts, and they do not consider us as friends or equals. They consider you and I as naive creatures to bully, enslave, or just kill for their own pleasure. We are capable of evil, but we have the means to resist it. If it is some learned behavior for these creatures, we have never seen it. I know it is hard to accept, but trust me Loy, it is better for them and us if we put them all down."

Loy sighed, but nodded his head in agreement "It is a shame, really."

"It is, but it's a grim duty of a warrior to put down evil where it crops its head. Now come, we have to make sure we put down that fox for good."

Loy and Eskert left, their conversation dimmed as they made their way back to Kelsum's camp, making themselves ready for the coming battle ahead of them.
_

It was mid afternoon as Iscal looked on in anger at his captor sitting on a big throne of broken wood and loot, Jano's face looking up at the cracked stone ceiling of the ancient tower. Iscal moved a bit to try to get more comfortable, but his eye shifted over to a small pile of bodies slowly increasing. Of the other prisoners in the room with him, fewer were left and exhausted from Nurf's tortures as his new hordebeasts eagerly awaited their chief's dark command. Nurf was mumbling to himself, teaching one of the younger vermin of his horde how to properly slit a throat as Iscal watched on in objective terror.

Nurf terrified most beasts, and he made sure everyone knew how unpredictable he was "Yes, yes. Like this, little things. Can't bring the little ones to the pretties all alive like, eh? The knife punctures the lung, making it hard to scream. Throat is more painful, more bloody. Preferable." Nurf seemed to childishly become jovial at the prospect "Yes! Like this." Nurf took the knife from the vermin's paws and went over to one of the newer hordebeasts and 'showed' his apprentice on how it is truly done. Nurf crept closer, silent as the grave, before grabbing his own hordebeast and holding his neck. The surprised creature didn't squeal much before Nurf put a few harsh stabs into his back and then slowly brought his knife across the throat.

"Yes, yes, like that! See!" Nurf tossed the knife to the surprised hordebeast who fumbled it in his paws. Iscal and the others knew what danger they were in, but were powerless to do much about it. Iscal was tempted to just give in, perhaps have some faint chance of surrendering all to Nurf and enjoy what brief moment of life he had.

Yet, Nurf and his random murders were far less appealing with Jano looming over the group. Jano took a bite from some of the food provided to him, his whip firmly held in his lap as he looked out at the group before him. He was at peace in a strange way as Nurf leaped about the room, scheming and plotting quite loudly.

"Jano, yes, my newest captain." He crept closer to his new captain, caressing his head which Jano did not resist as the mad fox grinned with disturbed delight "We need more beasts! Aye, more and more vermin, refill our numbers. Murderers, assassins, beasts of strong and good looking types. Rats, weasels, ferrets, maybe some foxes. Foxes not always so good, make bad friends, always looking down on my pretties."

"If ya want more beasts boss, I'll have em for ya." Jano got up and moved away, knowing how unpredictable Nurf could be. Nurf moved about his little hill of treasures and decaying bones, holding up a disturbingly small skull of a vole which petted. "Pretties make many demands, my children want more play things. Frankfort be his name, and Frankfort shall play and tend to my little ones. My pretties."

"Aye." Jano thought, trying to be careful with what he said as he came over to Iscal, using his head like a stool for his arm "Though, can't just waltz into der camp, boss. No doubt dey be looken fer ya. Maybe a small wait, hmmm? Train what beasts we got now, den kidnap dat squirrel, skin em' here, next to yer pretties."

"Sad, isn't it." Nurf suddenly said, although sadness wasn't on his mind. Iscal growled at Jano, only to have the cruel ferret's small claws grab his head and squeeze. Iscal whined in pain until Jano eased up. "Sad. Me ol' chief, that wretched fool. Couldn't see what Nurf sees, couldn't imagine what Nurf imagines. Pathetic, stupid beast. Glad he is dead." Nurf came up to Jano, growling and frothing at his mouth.

"Yes! Stupid beast! Evil, he called me!" Jano went back a little ways, discovering something about Nurf that others seemingly had a hard time understanding. Nothing was personal for the mad fox, he just acted out his desires whenever he wanted, and instead of grabbing Jano, he grabbed Iscal instead, angrily shaking him.

"Evil!? Me!? Stupid fool, couldn't see I take care of my pretties!" Nurf suddenly stopped, his smile growing wider and wider as he let go of Iscal and gave a sudden speech.

"Frankfort, oh if only not born a woodlander, I would have made such a friend of a beast like him." Nurf sounded to his confused horde as if he were dreamy "He kills, pretties speak good things of him, but there can only be one beast the pretties like. Bowthieves are all dead! Hahaha! All of them! Saw their graves, saw many graves! See his face, that foolish thing, in my dreams! See the small little ones denied to me pretties in the camp!" Nurf sounded relieved, and the madness made even his veterans nervous, but that hint of cunning returned to him when he stopped laughing, becoming suddenly serious.

"When Frankfort lies dead, it will be by me paws, and all those little vermin will be very thankful to me, and his army will scatter. They go looking for us, we'll kill them, skin them, make them into new manner of art for my pretties to enjoy. Gandal will be long gone, and in his place I will be-" Nurf suddenly shifted his head to the pile of bones. "Yes! Yes, that is what I was thinking! Genius! Pretties make me so proud, so happy. Redwall, yes, redwall."

Such ambition was ill for some vermin, but Jano encouraged it on "Yes, Redwall chief. Lots a planning to do, lots of dings to get to doin. Perhaps we can-"

Nurf suddenly widened his eyes and lifted his ears, listening to something. Jano paused as Nurf looked towards the door, and so did he. There should be a sentry outside, watching on the wall, but they could hear something coming.

Clang. Clang. Thump.

It was growing louder as the vermin of Nurf's horde remained silent. It was rather odd to think beasts, even those of a large army, would come all this way and learn where they were. Long Patrol couldn't find them, but Nurf quickly spoke in calm tone while backing away.

"Probably just the sentry, go check, yes?"

"Uhm." One of the vermin closest to the door was unsure, but he didn't get much time to even go to the door or argue before the door to the lair was kicked in, and a large hare was standing in the door and rushed on in with a sword. He was followed by another hare, an otter, and a bunch more woodlanders who quickly entered the room with weapons drawn, a shout was heard as Nurf saw a small tide of yellow and black enter his lair. Jano backed away towards the wall as one of the confused vermin was quickly pulled into a hare and a sword stuck out of his chest.

There were screams as Nurf's horde, or what remained of it, tried to fight back, trying to reclaim the door. Jano was shocked and horrified, as the beasts continued to flood into the room. Jano's eyes went wide when he saw Loy in the back of the group, awaiting a turn to enter with a javelin in paw, with Borbon and some mouse he didn't recognize waiting patiently to enter next. The woodlanders began to cut down everything in the room, bound and unbound vermin. The prisoners begged for mercy as spears were thrusted downward upon them, and the freer vermin fought for their lives as they were smashed against walls.

The massacre was sudden and the battle was ending very quickly. Some of Nurf's newer vermin held their ground, giving precious time for Nurf to back his way towards the back of his pile of loot and somehow disappeared. This was noticed by Jano who followed and saw a small but hidden path downward into some rubble, leading out towards a secret entrance. Jano looked up at the windows, noticing some vermin trying to climb to safety to escape, only to be put down by bolts from snipers nearby.

Jano cursed himself of leaving behind all of Nurf's loot and quickly made his way down, unaware of another beast watching him. Iscal and a few others were backed up against a wall, their numbers dwindling as the Southwarders began to execute whatever was left of Nurf's vermin with vengeance. Iscale crunched down, noticing a fallen axe which he used to cut his bonds and crawled on the floor.

"Where is he!?" Eskert shouted. Iscal looked to the side, seeing the mouse warrior climb the hill and who looked down to see Iscal trying to escape. Iscal could see anger and ill intent in his eyes, and quickly dove for the small hole. Eskert followed, slashing at Iscal's tail which escaped harm barely in the nick of time. Eskert looked down with frustration at the hole in the ground and yelled out "They are escaping, Outside! Hurry now!"
_

Eskert, Borbon, and Loy made their way out, yelling at the vengeful soldiers "He is this way!" Yet, none were listening as they pulled bodies and still living vermin out of the crowded hole and quickly put their swords and pikes into them. Eskert had no time for such business, grabbing his friends "We'll meet up with the crossbowbeasts. Terrance is nearby, we can hunt for Nurf ourselves!" Eskert and Borbon led onward with Loy disappointed to not see Jano, or get the chance to put him down. The group met up with Terrance and some of the Southward crossbowbeasts and quickly left from the side of the ruined tower and gave chase through the forest.

"Bleeding hell, of course that bugger could have some manner of escape!" Terrance cursed as he led the party forward. Borbon was slower, speaking up as they continued to give chase "He be bluody fullowed by sume varmunts! Furrets!" Borbon then pointed to an alternative path, picking up Nurf's trail which the swift fox left behind in his hasty retreat. Nurf's tail could be seen only briefly as it disappeared into some distant bushes, as Terrance pointed to him and quickly gave chase, bow in paw.

"Hurry! Before he bleeding gets away!"

Eskert and his friends followed, watching as one of the nearby sentries making sure vermin didn't get out try to engage Nurf only to be quickly put down by him. The fox was almost demonic and mocking in its movements, paused only temporarily as he continued to be chased. The group ran through bushes, trying to keep an eye on the fox, only for Nurf to suddenly climb a small tree and leap towards the lake, and then rush in another direction. He was nimble and difficult to keep track of, as Loy threw his javelin in the hopes of slaying him only for it to land a foot away as the fox kept moving.

Nurf was gaining distance, Terrance unleashed an arrow at him, but it missed as Eskert and his angry companions continued on. He heard something behind him, as if a beast had fallen, but he was focused on Nurf. They all continued to rush at the fox, swords and weapons raised as they charged into the underbrush after Nurf.

All except Loy who had fallen, but not by a root or small rock, but by a paw.

Jano rushed up to Loy, tired as he was trying to chase after the fox, covering his mouth with his paw and swiftly pulled him into the bushes. Loy was mortified and tried to scream for help, but his friends were far gone and were going after Nurf in a terrible haste. Loy struggled, trying to get his paw on a knife or even one of his javelins, but the ferret was quickly disarming him and kept a knife to his throat. Loy stopped struggling as Jano's evil smile crept over his face, and once confident the two were a bit more alone after pulling the otter towards the inland lake, he punched the otter and threw him at the foot of a tree facing the lake.

Loy immediately tried to run, in pain and yelping "Help!" However, he suddenly felt a much sharper and harsher pain in his shoulder, and seeing a knife sticking out of it. Jano lept at him again, pulling his knife out of the otter and bending himself down to him.

"Loy Watertrot, yer a difficult beast to hold onto, eh?" Loy gripped his shoulder in pain, his eyes wide as he looked around and yelled again "Help! Eskert! Bor-" There was no answer and for his efforts got a nasty punch to his face by the ferret who gripped his cheeks.

"No one is comen to save ya, water dog. Not now anyway." Jano didn't look angry, Loy was far more horrified to look into the happy and vile face of his tormentor "Just you an' me now, though not fer very long."

"You and your blasted chief will perish, Jano." Loy huffed, trying to give off some bravery. Jano wasn't impressed as he brought his knife towards the otter's cheek and nipped at him "Which one?"

"Gandal. Where is he."

"How der hell am I suppose to know, Loy? Ya kinda made it hard fer me to go back to the old idiot. Though not that I be complainen till now. Ya really had to just bring yer little fine friends along fer dis, didn't ya. Ruinen somethen good fer me." Jano grabbed the otter by the collar of his shirt and held him close.

"I'm going to kill ya, boy. I'm going to kill ya like I shoulda done a season ago an' make ya scream, an' scream, an' scream. By der time Borbon finds ya, you'll be a real mess. What does Nurf call it, hmmm? A masterpiece? Aye, I dink dat will be worth it to do to ya. Yer gonna be joinen yer ma an' pa in whatever hell dey ended up in."

Loy spat in his face, and Jano angrily threw the otter's head to the ground. Jano brought his knife up to Loy's scalp as the otter angrily cursed him "You murdered my ma, Jano. Even if I perish, Borbon will put ya down. You an' Gandal both! I hope you rot, you murderer!"

Jano stopped, and then gave a big grin to him. Loy was confused as Jano in mockingness and softness spoke in villanous whisper "Loy, I want ya to know dis before ya pass, especially ya. Gandal wanted me to spare yer ma, ya know dat? That old fool wanted ya two to be broken, swearing to Kasg der Craven, given dat stupid oath I gave when I was naive an' young. Ya did, in pretend, but Gandal is gone now. Gone an' hopefully dead. I want ya to know that I killed her wit me lash, Loy. I killed her, an' me alone. That stupid fool Olan thought me degenerate fer doin so, but so what? Now I am realizing dat I should have been doin dis from der very beginning." Loy's eyes widened with fear and hate of the ferret as Jano brought his knife to the otter's scalp again.

"I'm going to really mis lashing ya, Loy." Jano was about to begin as the otter prepared to scream out one final time before Jano was smashed into by another beast. Loy's eyes widened in surprise as he weakly got up and looked at his rescuer, expecting a hare or some soldier, only to find another ferret wrestling with Jano. "Get off of me, ya stupid fool!"

The other ferret didn't listen, angrily taking his teeth and sinking it into Jano's arms as he let go his knife. Jano punched the beast, but it did little to dissuade the the attacker Jano looked up, in horror to find Iscal standing over him, murderous intent in his eyes as the ferret began to pummel him in his face. Each strike blurred Jano's vision, as Iscal angrily brought down death upon the beast. Loy was in shock, as he recogonized the creature, as the two ferrets fought. Jano tried to reach for his knife, but Iscal only angrily spoke his last words to the ferret in anger.

"Oh no ya don't ya conscripter! Ya dink yer gonna just drag me to some degenerate crypt an' get me killed!?" Iscal continued to pummel Jano's face till only red seemingly remained on it and his body began to go limp. For good measure, Jano's knife was picked up by Iscal who put it into the chest of the cadaver, a stake to make sure this slaving evil did not walk the earth again. Iscal arose, blood on his paws, mumbling to himself as he looked at Loy, almost surprised to see him. Loy was looking back, gripping his shoulder.

"Loy! Loy!"

Loy turned his attention to the north, noticing Eskert come out with fearful eyes. He was shocked to see Loy slumped at the back of a tree, gripping his wound. Borbon came out next, huffing and rushing to the otter "Luy! Oh sweut seasuns!" Borbon began to check his wounds as Loy winced. Swiftly, the mole began to bandage and apply pressure to his wound as Eskert frowned. He was about to put his sword away until he noticed Iscal who was slowly trying to back away.

"You-" Eskert growled. Iscal nearly went to run, until he found himself face to face with Terrance who didn't look much happier, and having a wound of his own across his face. Terrance looked to Loy and then down to the body of the dead ferret.

Eskert approached Iscal who didn't speak, expecting they wouldn't listen. However, Loy yelled out "Eskert! Wait!"

Eskert turned to Loy, almost annoyed. However he listened when Loy arose with Borbon's help and came forward. He looked down at Jano and back to Iscal, giving a warm smile "I owe another vermin my life. Thank you."

Iscal only blinked as Eskert didn't seem to wish to relent "This beast is one of Nurf's, Loy. Save you or not, it has also killed. It is tainted."

"Now hold on just a moment, I ain't one of dat fox's degenerates." Iscal finally spoke in his defense, insulted. Eskert's dark eye turned to the ferret who quickly silenced himself, but Loy spoke in a calm manner "If so, I don't wish to kill such a beast or seen them slain."

Terrance then gripped Iscal's shoulder "Then we return to camp with him. Let us not dally, Nurf is still out there."

"We didn't catch him?" Loy frowned.

"Bugger slipped us again." Terrance gritted his teeth "Though, I will have plenty of hares to put him down for good once they find him. He is alone now, his horde is gone, and no doubt he won't recruit much without all of his precious supplies and loot to bring beasts into his fold."

"We'll fiund dut fiend." Borbon grunted "Gandul is still out dur."

"If he was here, he went north."

Eskert put his sword away and grunted and nodded "Then we take this beast with us. He is the last of Nurf's horde. Let us not waste anymore time." The group, injured and saddened, made their way back to Kelsum's camp, with the burning husk of Nurf's keep now starting to bloom into the distance.

---

Grok didn't think he would be leading a large force of vermin and woodlanders forward, but yet here he was. The hedgehog called to those behind him "Keep up! Were almost to the ol' Beersit Hill!"

Gaster and Gandal looked forward, both tired of marching as they looked up at the increasingly tireless hedgehog. Grok was larger and better built than both of them, and he was now proving to be faster than both. Gandal was annoyed that some workbeast would dare talk down to him, commanding him of all beasts. Yet, Gaster was pleasantly surprised as the hedgehog helped the group traverse southeast Mossflower with ease. The hedgehog was clearly a local, removing the accursed yellow clothes given to him as a serf in favor of an extra uniform from Gaster's camp. "We'll be able to see a lot from Beersit Hill, one of the last great hills before it all flattens out east. If were lucky, we should be able to see them Southwarder camps a mile away!"

"How'd ya know?" Gandal asked, annoyed. Grok turned to him, huffing "I'm surprised ya wouldn't know, rat. Its high enough and balding on top, much steeper on the other side going down. Not many beasts out this way either, so I doubt the folk out there will be looking for us."

Gandal turned his attention to Olan who nodded in silence at him. Olan nudged Mela who was marching beside him to follow, in which Gandal took note of the black cloth around her neck. Gandal had only recently been told of Mela's introduction into his horde, formally. He and Olan had argued for about a night, but eventually the warlord relented.

Grok led the group up towards the hill where it camped on the far south side while Gaster followed the hedgehog up onto the hill, giving a look around. Grok grinned as they spotted the smoke of camps farther off into the distance. Gandal and Nosrig joined them soon after, with Grok in the middle of explaining things to Gaster.

"They are heading north, squirrel. Towards Redwall. They say there is a big horde surrounding it or at least heading towards it. It sounds like they have been digging their heels into the south, and that wretch sends garrisons all across the forests to occupy our villages. But it's like three beasts at best, it shouldn't take us too long to reclaim them."

Nosrig spoke up "Too risky, I thinks. Chief here says we should be heading east. Shadowing three huge armies won't do much but get their attention."

Gandal growled at him "I speak fer meself fox." Nosrig silenced himself, although annoyed in turn. Gandal approached and looked out and pointed "Olan an some of me boys will look fer any of our lads who had distracted dem towards Nurf. If dey be at der Inland Lake, den dey will still stay der looken fer Nurf an' his compatriots. If dey are intenden on goin north to engage some blasted horde, all der better for us."

Gaster shook his head "Better for you, not our people."

Gandal angrily scolded the squirrel "Lest ya forget, dat is three armies. Unless ya want to engage dem now an' get yerselves killed, we continue east."

Grok nodded "Smart, go east and return west once they are gone?"

"Y-yes." Gandal said, a bit surprised. "Like what he says."

Grok spoke calmly "I want to get me sons an' missus back as quickly as possible, but we can't dally too long trying to hound that army. They are learning since that little raid you two did a while back. Me sons an' missus will keep their heads down, but if you two got a way to deal that killing blow to that evil lot, I am more than fine to help you two. Including you, rat."

Gandal mumbled as he continued to look out over the lake. Gaster appreciated Grok more and more since he joined them. He even made some considerations making him a captain due to how helpful he had been thus far. The group continued to look out until Olan and Mela appeared again, ghostly eyed and troubled. Mela kept herself quiet as Olan approached Gandal. Gandal spoke up "There be something down der, over der me captain says. Some dead beasts." Gandal pointed to a bit of forest farther down the hill, which Gaster raised an eyebrow about. "Hanged beasts." Gandal corrected himself.

The group went down the hill, following Olan and Mela as Grok cursed and complained to Gaster "Out of all the evil things to happen to our bleeding forest, first Nurf, then Kasg, and now this. I hope the Long Patrol can pull their britches up an' deal with this lot before they get us all under their lash."

Gaster nodded "Couldn't agree more. Now they are murdering beasts left and right. Vermin, woodlander, and now even birds aren't safe. I am glad you decided to join us Grok."

"Someone has to help out, otherwise you lot would still be wandering all over these forests, blind like bats." Grok said in a partial joke. They continued, but slowed down when they came across the first body. It was a squirrel in which Gaster looked up and scowled at. It was a bit too on the nose for him, but Grok became deadly silent. They continued as the number of bodies began to pile onto the trees. They were let there to rot, which was rather abnormal for the vermin which Gandal spoke up in casual confusion "Huh. Dey decided to leave dem bodies up an' about? Why?"

Mela could only guess "Likely because they didn't want to make it look like they had done so. They did this to my family. They did this in a hurry and the soldiers likely left back to their camp, and will return to dispose of the bodies when they find a chance."

Gandal was not disturbed as he looked up, he expected this, but what made him pause was the numbers. There were a lot of woodlanders who swung from the trees above him. Grok looked around, beginning to panic as Gaster noticed the hedgehog becoming nervous. Nosrig noted this and asked "You haven't seen this before?"

"T-they were the beasts who joined me!? In my escape!?" Gaster realized what this meant as Grok spotted them, high above the trees. He paused, tears swelled in his eyes as he fell to his knees. He was silent, seeing them there, of all the terrible things that could have happened, he began to slowly weep. Gandal and Olan approached, looking up at them, the light breeze being their only matter of protest to their fate. Gandal looked to his side, Grok being comforted by Gaster who tried to calm the hedgehog who began to cry out in horror, even though both realized that doing so could alert some manner of curious beast.

"Olan." Gandal commanded. "Grab dat mouse, an der fox. Cut em' down. Grab some of der boys, an some shovels."

Mela overheard and quickly went, as Olan gave his chief a strange look. In truth, he could see Gandal was starting to become afraid, even a bit respectful of his new foe. He could respect the pragmatism of atrocity, but what he feared is this of all things, for what purpose did this serve? It was a private slaying, a means of disappearing beasts, and it was done so callously and suddenly. Olan and Nosrig got to work, as Gandal stood in the circle, his attention turning to the bright and sunny day above him, ashes again beginning to fall from the sky.
_

Gythan was overseeing the packing of his personal abode, his soldiers aiding him. The 2nd army was finally moving again to meet up with the first. The army was forming up in the forest nearby and Frankfort and his army was gathering for a trip forward towards the 1st army where they heard of a bitter sweet victory. The cheer of defeating Nurf and destroying his horde was dimmed by the fact he had gotten away. Yet, the army would soon be moving north despite interruptions. The news was personally delivered by Eskert and Borbon, relayed to the captains by Nosbub who didn't seem all that concerned.

Yet, Gythan wasn't happy and was a little annoyed. He was joined by another otter who came up to his side, who folded his paws at him, looking mean and foul looking. Gythan raised an eyebrow to this "May I help you?"

"Aye, I was looken fer the Spikkats."

Gythan grunted and realized the otter was Tangran, the mercenary didn't have his cadre with him. The bigger otter nudged the captain who didn't seem to answer back. "They attempted an escape, I know Grok be still missing, but where be his missus an' sons, eh?"

"I don't know."

"The hell you mean you 'don't know'?"

"Captain Murchan and Captain Esmert came up to me and told me they would be bringing the escapees to one of the nearby villages to work, and be punished for their attempted escape. They didn't tell me which village nor did they tell me what they would be doing to them, if that is your concern. Though, I do wish they would have left those younger and stronger lads with me at least so I didn't have to exhaust my soldiers with this manner of work."

Gythan returned his attention to the soldiers but was harshly nudged by Tangran again. Gythan tried to ignore him, but the mercenary didn't relent. "Then where the hell is Captain Murchan? Or Esmert for that manner?"

"Murchan is marching to the 1st army, and Esmert is probably on some higher ground trying to not get his bleeding boots dirty." Gythan wanted to curse "Now, please, leave me to my own duties." Tangran wasn't done, before getting into Gythan's face. "Now, if I see one bloody spike missing from any of them Spikk-"

Gythan stopped him, harshly speaking down the larger mercenary "Sir, I would kindly ask you to not think so unkindly of me. The Spikkats are fine, they were fine this morning when I spoke to them, and are likely fine when Murchan marched them off towards some village to dole out meager punishments. We aren't like the bleeding savages of this land. If you want to know where they are, go ask Esmert or Murchan." Tangran continued to grunt, but left Gythan to his tasks as went to his otters perched nearby. They informed him they couldn't find Grok's family. "Fool beast nearly getting himself killed. I promised that lad I would look after his kin, lets at least make sure they are safe, lads."

The group left to search for Murchan and Esmert, but it seemed rather fruitless. Tangran was about to head towards the fields, until he heard the arrogant and high pitched voice of Esmert nearby, angrily speaking "Oh that bleeding idiot, why didn't he just use his weapons, what am I supposed to do without our ropes!?" Tangran paused and quickly hid himself behind some of the tent of the camp. His eyes widened, as he listened closely to another beast who began to whisper "Shhh, you idiot! You want the others to hear!?"

"Oh so what, they were just a bunch of serfs anyway, no harm in having them gone."

"You have no imagination for secrecy, Esmert, which is a real shame." A vole was speaking as Tangran could see, a short and stocky creature in a soldier's uniform. Esmert huge and bulkier form appeared next to him, his big royal collar swayed as he moved, and his ornate boots shined. If it wasn't for the fact he was wearing some manner of breastplate behind his magnificent noble wear, Tangran could have sworn he was just some visitor.

"Baros, just because Nosbub thinks highly of your 'abilities' doesn't mean I do. Remember, you are my soldier and my least favorite one at that. I still have the authority to lash you if you speak ill of me."

"Oh yes, and do tell what you are going to say to Nosbub when he finds out that I start talking about what you and Murchan did, hmmm?"

"I'd sooner cut out your ton-"

"Too suspicious, even for you. Now yes, Murchan is an idiot, but he's an idiot we can both agree should be our fall guy, right? Nosbub wants all these little things done and quick, just like when we were on the trail to subdue those villages. Just trust our 'dear leader' for once, Esmert."

"You're not the one who has to tell him we left a lot of bleeding rope. At least if we killed them with our pikes, we'd be able to clean them, hmph."

"Oh yes, march the army back to camp with blood on your weapons and casually clean them." Baros slapped his head with frustration "I still don't know why you two decided to even go along with it. Hiding bodies the first time was bad enough, but this?"

"Oh don't tell me you are getting a heart for a bunch of beasts like that, Baros."

"No, of course not, but-"

"But what?"

"Weren't those hedgehogs a wee bit young?"

"They were adults, you idiot. Younger adults in the sense younger than me and you, but not young enough to escape punishment." Esmert chuckled a bit "Besides, bleeding fools deserved it anyway, one of them got a nasty kick to my bleeding chest before perishing. Cursing us up and down."

"If Frankfort finds out-"

"If Frankfort finds out, we just blame Murchan." Esmert huffed "Seasons, Baros. You act like as if Frankfort is ever going to find out!? Who bleeding cares about a bunch of serfs disappearing, especially when we tell them they are going to some blasted village to be 'punished' hmmm?" Esmert and Baros quieted their conversation and continued onward, arguing and berating each other. Tangran was beside himself, his paw over his mouth and anger in his eyes. He had been tempted to slay the two right then and there, and he came out of the tent with red on his face.

He didn't know what to do first, but he needed to immediately tell a beast.

Tangran ran through the camp, knowing whatever beast he told would need to be the most important. He was immediately bombarded with doubt which slowed his movements, he wondered if Frankfort would listen, but knew he was likely already in the know. He considered maybe Kelsum or Gosland, but he figured they too would be in agreement of some kind or worse were perhaps already knew.

"Borbon." Tangran told himself, he perked up looking around for the mole. He spotted him farther off in the camp, preparing to move out. Although small, he was slowly cresting a hill, making his way towards his friends farther off, chomping on some rations for himself. Tangran pushed past beasts in a desperate hurry, calling out to the mole "Borbon! Lad! Borbon, hold up!"

Borbon turned to the otter, stopping halfway up a hill. He slightly came back down towards the running otter, not sure what was wrong. He gave a fine smile to him in friendliness as he rushed up "Tangrun, guud to see you, lud. Whut cun I du ya fur?"

Tangran was out of breath, as Borbon noticed he looked distressed. The mercenary quickly blurted out, trying to explain "Borbon, lad. Something has happened, something foul has-"

"Explauin. Sluwly." So Tangran did. He explained what had happened the night before, of Grok Spikkat and his family. Borbon's eyes widened, partly shocked as Tangran began the blurt out in anger what he had overheard. Borbon listened at first intently, but his attention kept being turned up towards the hill, as he gave the otter an increasingly disbelieving look. Tangran finished telling Borbon what was wrong, hoping the mole could help him.

"Ya gotta help me, Borbon." Tangran pleaded "They say they murdered them, I can't just allow that, lad. I-"

Borbon held up his paw, trying to be calm in voice, but there was a hint of annoyance "Tangrun, ya beun a guud friund thus fur, an' yuo been helpful. Yuo likuly just ovurheard wrung."

"I know what me bleeding ears can hear, I ain't deaf."

"Cleurly are." Borbon snapped back, and then pointed up north "Gandul be dut way, in one wuy or dur other. Tangrun, I knuw ya wull, but yur speakun liuke a maud beust. Yur friund's kin is sufe, cause dut is whut dut uther wuter dug said. De's fulk aren't tryen to kull us, nor would I dink duy would evur try to hurm us, unlike dum Lung Patrul hud been doin."

"Borbon." Tangran frowned "Ya gotta-"

Borbon snapped back more harshly this time "I dun gutta do anydung, Tangrun. Yur here at me behust, but I wun't defund ya if ya cause trouble. Nut without pruuf. You are just hearun dings. I dun't cure whut happuns to thuse who try to run, I am already angury enough fur one beast runnen, likuly helpun dum varmunts attuck dur cump. I ain't gunna shud a tear uver some hedgehug who tried to du dur same." Borbon left with a huff, marching back up the hill with his warhammer in paw. Tangran looked up to him as he left, more sorrowful than angry. He returned to the camp slowly, unsure what to even do.
_

Tangran and his otters formed up and were marching through the camp, making their way out towards southern Mossflower. The other otters were shocked to hear what had transpired, giving the camp around them a more grim light. Yet, not all were in agreement as Tangran was, some having openly questioned him on what he had heard. Yet, when their leader ordered them to move out, they kept to him even though some of Tangran's captains who marched side by side with him debated him.

"You sure about this Tangran? I mean, you don't know for certain. These folk, as ya said before, are doing good work aren't they? They wouldn't try to do something so foul."

"You heard Tangran. How can we not believe them? They be making serfs of woodlanders here, an' no matter if they kill vermin or not, they are now murdering the family of friends!"

"That's if they did so-"

Tangran growled "Enough. We leave an' that be final." Tangran's captains silenced themselves, as they continued onward, their destination farther off. The otter now felt partly mad, wondering if he had even heard rightly. The thought of Grok ever having to discover this terrified him, let alone meeting him again. Tangran felt he wouldn't be missed at least, with plans to find Grok. Tangran sighed, speaking to his more skeptical captain "I know what I heard, but we can't just let this go. Especially if there be some manner of corruption in these ranks."

"I won't challenge ya, sir. I just hope we know what we are doing."

"I hope so too."

Tangran was just about to exit the Southward camp, already packing up to leave itself until he came across another hedgehog captain, marching along with two other beasts at his side. The hedgehog was shouldered by a fellow otter and a dormouse. The dormouse was in a soldier's uniform, looking deeply displeased while the otter of the group was waving his paws around as if in some manner of argument. As the two groups got closer, Tangran could hear them better.

"-be ridiculous, Banoff! Just cause they are missing, doesn't mean they were dragged away and murdered. Come now, even the Black Twitch wouldn't got that far, let alone have it approved by Prince Frankfort!" The otter said, huffing as if insulted. To Tangran, he looked like some manner of officer, but the dormouse spoke with some authority to him.

"Come now Brownstreak, we both saw what Nosbub and his fools are capable of! Gythan and Murchan butchered the bleeding countryside."

"And those soldiers who tried to do so were caught and punished. They are angry, Garzlan. Oh, for the bleeding Bellmaker's sake, call me Pelo!"

"There already is another Pelo in this camp, and Brownstreak really does more fit you."

"Enough you two!" Banoff yelled a bit annoyed "Brownstreak, you and your beasts, you didn't find a single one of them? Are you absolutely sure?"

Pelo Brownstreak frowned and shook his head "None that I could find, sir. We did look and asked around, but no one's seen them. Even asked that mean ol' creature. Captain Gythan, said he'd beat me with a whip if we kept asking questions. Apparently some other otter was looking for them as well I think."

Tangran blinked and stopped with his small horde of mercenaries behind him, and Banoff stopped as well. The two forces faced one another as Tangran came forward "You. Are you looking for the Spikkats?"

Banoff squinted his eyes, a little nervous in speaking "I'd ask for whom'st be asking."

"Whom'st? I am." Tangran said annoyed, coming dangerously closer. The Dormouse got in front, with a pike in paw which remained high above them both. Tangran backed away and spoke in a desperate tone "The Spikkats, what do you know of them. Grok Spikkat, the one who escaped, he was a buddy of mine. Was." Tangran looked the hedgehog captain up and down "I got something to tell ya. I overheard something, an if I tell ya, promise me you won't do anything foolish or speak ill of me."

"I only promise to try, depending what you got to say."

Tangran looked around and walked with Banoff at the edge of the camp, farther from others as the surprised hedgehog listened to Tangran's tale and suspicions. Banoff nodded, while Brownstreak tried to reason with the two. Yet, Brownstreak's concerns fell on deaf ears once Esmert's name was mentioned.

"Oh that bleeding creature, of course he'd be involved!" Banoff suddenly ranted. The hedgehog's heart fell as he sorrowfully looked to Tangran, who hoped that the hedgehog had some manner of hope for him. Banoff shook his head "We were here to try to pick up the folk who failed to escape, before others got to them. This isn't the first time this has happened, and no doubt the last."

"There are others?" Tangran asked. Garzlan spoke, although his voice etched on rage "Aye, mostly those vermin blokes. A couple of them disappeared from Nosbub's camp, speaking ill and suddenly no beast knows where to find them. Even caught some of Nosbub's soldiers doing some manner of evil, being overzealous, swore up and down they were ordered to do things."

"We've been trying to help as best we can." Brownstreak sighed "Even though I personally think this is all a bunch of paranoia. Nosbub has always been like this, its not like we don't know that. These are extremely serious accusations, otter."

"I'd not make it if I didn't know." Tangran grunted "I told Grok I wouldn't help'em, but now I figure I should have. Can't we bring this to your generals, your prince?"

"Prince Frankfort is a reasonable and bright creature." Banoff nodded "But his council is not. I need hard proof, and if Esmert or Murchan did kill them, he isn't leaving behind any clues."

"He was talken with another beast, a 'Baros'. A vole."

"Voles are all over the camp." Garzlan reminded him "A name is good at least to have. Maybe we can-"

"We'll have to do so later. Our orders only get us so far." Banoff grunted. Tangran was confused, something which Banoff was quick to notice. He explained, whispering "We aren't supposed to be here, otter. We had just come from kicking some of Nosbub's beasts from killing some dumb fool who talked back to Frankfort when they were captured, had them sent to one of the villages. Not even my General knows I am here."

"I see." Tangran sighed "Can ya help me?"

"Only if you can help me. Join me an' my division, and we can hopefully do something about all this."

Tangran nodded and joined the three, his mercenaries following them towards Kelsum's camp. As the group walked, Tangran looked behind him, wondering if he should still try to find Grok, but he supposed he'd have to bide his time. The vast army began to move north, as Tangran noticed ash starting to fall from the sky.
_

Samkon and Frankfort marched through orderly lines of the combined armies, making their way towards the farther field for which Nurf's keep burned. The fire roared and latched onto some trees, as some of the serfs quickly began to use axes to cut down nearby branches before a wildfire could start. Smoke bellowed out of the keep, where bodies of Nurf's horde laid, with Loy and Dangan throwing the hated slaver Jano into the pile. The burning structure enamored the squirrel prince whose golden armor shined ever brighter in the light of the fire. Samkon took his place beside his Prince, and looked on at the gathered force. The vast woodlander army was looking a little less sure, but yet were satisfied to see the hated foe and his carnival of evil burning before their yellow banners.

Banoff and Tangran were the last to arrive, the otter mercenaries and Banoff's division were cresting the hill when they came down and took their place in the farther back. Banoff ordered his beasts to stay while he and Tangran made their way to the front.

Frankfort faced his army, his general were to one side, and his champions to another. Balon Blackpatch remained silent as he took his place amongst a group of soldiers, silently awaiting the orders of Frankfort. Shackleford coughed and covered his nose, approaching the side with the generals in which seemingly only Gosland wanted him to. The smoke and ash bellowed all around the group, slowly covering them and baptizing them in the afterglow of their deeds, touching them in different ways. For some, a new found fire was in their hearts, eager to put all of Mossflower to the same sword for fallen friends, while others covered their mouths and noses. Only Frankfort seemingly was unaffected, feeling the heat behind him as he yelled out to his front troops.

"Soldiers of Southward, Lars has almost been avenged, but far from satisfied!" He declared. The prince came forward, gleaming in the dark light of orange and red covering him. "Nurf Bloodkeep has escaped, but fear not. This has not been in vain! Nurf's horde is dead! His beasts lay slain, and those they have killed have been near avenged. Let that fox rot and skulk in the forest, unwanted from the world, we will return to burn him out as we did here! Yet, we are far from done. Gandal Blackfur has no doubt gone north, to meet up with one of the hordes there, retreating from our justice!"

Frankfort wrung out his ornate sword, raising it up for all to see.

"We came here naive and foolish, but now we are no longer blind to the evil of this land! We will free the woodlanders of Mossflower from the villainy of the vermin, and we will not be stopped by the machinations of these once beloved Long Patrol! We will put an end to the evil which afflicts this land, we will put an end to the slavery and murder and generational barbarism which afflicts this good realm! We shall bring order at the end of our pikes and from the tips of our swords, and march out against the tide of troubles which hellishly grip the whole of the north! Let your banners fly high, my soldiers, my people!"

Eskert and Borbon nodded, and in doing so, so did Loy and Eskert's newest squires. Pelo and Tera smiled, even though disturbed by the fire raging behind the squirrel whose shadow spilled forth onto them all. Frankfort put his sword down, swearing to his soldiers his oaths.

"I swear unto you, brave beasts of Southward. We shall not go home till every slave is freed, every vermin cut down or swearing to undo their evil ways. We shall right the wrongs of this land and build for ourselves a new realm, with proper legends, and proper cities! Fight not for just good beasts, but for the future of Mossflower and for Southward! Fight for me!"

Banoff and Tangran had made their way to the front with the other captains, hearing cheers from the vast army. Pikes and swords were raised, as Banoff found it strange. For him? He'd have ignored it had it not been such a subtle twist of words. Frankfort ordered his banners raised, and for song to play.

"We march to Redwall, and for the glory of the entire north! Drummers sound off, for we march to war!"

A song played up for the entire army as it marched beyond the inland lake, guided by a great cloud of ash which would dissipate and disappear behind them as they made their way north, a fire stirring in the hearts of every beast.

"Hurry! Hurry! To the front of the lines!

No beast can fall till the battle drum calls from behind!

Hurry! Hurry! We have much to do!

To free the lands of good beasts to make it safe for me and you!

Ohhhh Southward! Glorious and brave!

Let no beast be found wanting when we get to our graves!

Ohhh Southward! Death comes to evil and gloom!

And all shall bow to the Bellmaker's Boon!

Bring the ale, and bring us a pike!

For no beast will be sitting down when we strike!

Glory and honor! That is our call!

Let none of us be found wanting, before we had our feud!

Glory and honor! That is what they will say!

And when we join the Bellmaker, we'll drink till the end of days!"