"For the last time," Harlapple's voice dripped with annoyance. "I will not make you my second in command." He interrupted the fox before they could protest. "You have been here for what, a week? Less? And in that time all you've done is burn off your own face and try to incite a revolt. And you expect me to... reward this great service to my cause?"

"Well I'm scarred for life now, mouse." Bill snapped. "And it's all because of you. I expect some compensation!" He slammed his fist down on the table and lowered his voice. "Or maybe I'll just kill you here and now, and promote myself to leader, eh?"

The mouse rubbed at his eyelids. "If I had a brick for every time a spineless wretch has threatened me to my face I'd be able to build my own abbey." He jabbed his tail-spike in Bill's direction. "Did you ever hear of the expression all bark and no bite?"

Bill sneered. "I do not bother with woodlander talk."

"Well it describes you perfectly." Harlapple muttered. "Now. As you are new here I will show some leniency. Instead of executing you on the spot I'll act like what you said is a very good joke- because it is. Bad jokes and poor sense of humour aside I'll promote you to corpse if you threaten me again." The mouse sighed, leaning back in his chair so that he could plop his feetpaws on the table (luckily his mother wasn't there to reprimand him for it). "As for compensation, some creatures quite like a good scar." He jabbed a thumbclaw at his own. "Gives a beast character. If your now hideous features bother you (but let's be real here it's an improvement) perhaps consider investing in a mask of some sort? Dung has some old footwraps he might lend you..."

"ENOUGH!" Bill roared, drawing a blade. "You expect me to stand here and swallow your insults? Like the rest of your acting troupe?"

"By all means," Harlapple gestured at a nearby chair. "Have a seat."

The fox dived forwards, snarling hatred, his blade ready for murder.

The mouse rolled his eyes, and raised Martin's blade to parry. His tail-spike struck lower, and stabbed at Bill's other paw- still pressed against the table- and pinned it to the wood.

Bill yelled in pain, his dagger falling to the ground.

And Harlapple's sword lopped his head clean off.

Bill swallowed. "F-fine. Thanks mouse. I'll go ask Dung about that." And without another word he left the tent, a trembling paw reaching towards his neck.

Harlapple shook his head and went back to staring at his reflection in Martin's blade. "It's always the foxes that are mutinous..."

"Damn mouse..." Bill snarled, when he was a safe distance away from the detestable rodent. "I'll get him. I'll show him." But that was just huff and puff. The mouse was good at what he did, even if what he did should never have been done by a mouse. Bill would have to approach with caution... "I'll just poison him!" the crafty fox snickered, his fear all but forgotten. "Few droplets of something nasty- for his mother too- and then oh no the horde will be without a leader! And those useless dimwits will flock to the only beast here that could possibly look after them." He smirked, striking an impressive pose. "Me." He giggled, clapping his paws together like an overexcited dibbun.

He stopped abruptly, watching as Lackfoot did his familiar stumblebumble towards the boss' tent. "But I mustn't get ahead of myself... No. First I have to get the poison. Hmm, let's see. I know!" He snatched at a nearby flower. "Mice are probably allergic to pollen!"

"No dey're not," even at such a distance, Lackfoot heard him. The stoat gave Bill a condescending look and shook his head. "Das the stupidest thing I've ever 'eard."

The fox gritted his teeth and waited for the one-legged hordebeast to walk out of sight. "I'll poison him too. No horde needs a cripple." He gave the flowers a look, growled, and tossed them over his shoulders. "Pah! Maybe he's right. I need something stronger... something... something..."

The memory came to him, and he felt very stupid for not thinking of it first. "See that pretty flower? The one with the creamy, speckled petals? If I put even the smallest amount of that on your tongue, ye would have violent convulsions, foaming at the mouth, and paralysis...slowly followed by death."

Bill snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I'll just take the squirrel's stuff!" And with a sinister cackle Bill tip-toed through the camp, unseen by the foolish mooks, unheard by the buffoons, towards the healer's tent.

"Ye don't serpose Bill's up ter somethin' narsty, do yew Dung?" Skunksnot asked, as he and the rat watched the fox do an impressive barrel roll behind a barrel.

Dung shrugged. "Probably been drinkin'."

Bill burst into the squirrel's tent and with no subtlety whatsoever demanded. "Give me all your poison! Now wretch!"

Dung and Skunksnot shared a look outside, the pair shrugged and decided it was none of their business if the idiot got himself killed. "Wanna go prank the newbeast?"

Snowbelle had been dozing, her nightmare extract having been cooked down into a potent toxin, perfect for her plan, when the fox burst in. She opened one eye lazily, raising a brow to him. "Hmm? What poison?"

"Don't act dumb with me, squirrel! That flower you threatened me with!" He snarled and drew his dagger. "The one that causes frothing at the mouth. Give it to me!"

She coolly examined her claws and stretched, curling her tail around herself. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." The squirrelmaid recognized that Bill was already an insubordinate fool, a creature easy to rile up. He could be a valuable ally in her plans to take down Harl...or a perfect distraction to cover her plans.

Almost frothing at the mouth already, Bill pressed his dagger forwards, so that it dug into the squirrel's neck. "Don't. Play. Dumb."

Widening her eyes in innocence, she gazed at him with mock confusion. "But sir, I cannae help it! I'm just a stupid woodlander!" Her paw inched into her pocket, where she had hidden her extract. "I dinnae anything about anything at all!"

"Right then," he spat, and tucked the dagger away. He spied bunches of herbs in a corner and snatched them up. "I'll just be taking this then."

"Of course, sir! I'm sure ye'll love them!" Just a glance told Snow that, much like Harl, the fox clearly knew nothing about plants. "They're absolutely rae die for!" Culinary at least, they were. Thyme, parsley, rosemary...various delicious herbs. None of which were poisonous...save for the few nutmeg seeds, which could be deadly in large doses.

Bill chuckled sinisterly. "Oh they will be!" And without another word he left the tent, now holding the delectable herbs in his paws.

She giggled, rolling back over as she watched the idiot leave, cackling over a pawful of regular cooking herbs, presumably to go an poison some poor creature.

Dawn broke over Harlapple's horde. The vermin went about their morning routine. Scratching backs, applying footwraps, seeing who could belch the loudest. All but one vermin, and that vermin was, of course, Bill. The fox tiptoed towards the cooking tent, his face twisted with sinister intent. He peered inside and found, to his chagrin, Skunksnot and Dung bickering as they stirred up a stew.

"That rat ain't gunna fall fur that one. I'm tellin' ye! What we gots ter do is act like superior officers. Yew can be Starboard Left- Sargeant, an' I can be General Right Port Left Wing Cavalry Division," Skunksnot was saying. "An' we can be all like 'we's the beasts yew goes to iffen ye wants a promotion'."

"I still prefer moi plan," Dung pressed a thumb to his rapidly inflating chest. "Kin yew think of anyfink funnier dan stealin' all his clothes an' hidin' 'em somewhere so he's gots ter walk around lookin' for 'em?" Skunksnot gave the rat a patronising look. "Dung, none of us's got pants anyways."

After a short pause, Dung deflated. "Fine, we'll go with yer plan then."

Skunksnot grinned. "Knew ye'd come round! Come on den, less do it quick-like before he wakes up! Stew kin wait."

Bill grinned as he watched the pair of imbeciles leave. The fools! They should know better than to leave breakfast unattended! A sly old fox might just accidentally drop in some poison! Cackling malevolently, Bill whipped out his stack of stolen plants and dumped them into the bubbling cauldron with a gusto.

The sun hung low on the horizon, barely peeking over the trees as vermin within the camp began to stir. One such vermin being Roughtail. The rat was scratching his back, eyes still firmly shut. He was determined to get in another hour of sleep, at least.

Burying himself deeper into the pile of moldy hay, he tuned out the steadily rising sounds of the camp as morning dawned. After filling up on as many vittles as he could without garnering the wrath of the entire camp, he'd been unable to find his tent and had decided to sleep outside in a pile of hay. It was a decision made in hopes of avoiding a conflict or even worse, drawing attention to himself. He was used to sleeping in harsh conditions and, in fact, a pile of hay was more than he could have hoped for. He'd be damned if he didn't enjoy every minute of it.

"Dere 'e is!" Skunksnot snickered, as he and Dung peered at the sleeping rat from behind a tree. "Lookit 'im, sleepin' in on 'is firs' day! Can't 'ave that, can we Dung?"

Also snickering, Dung shook his head from side to side. "I don't think so. Somebeast with higher authority," he winked broadly. "Oughts ter give 'im a few chores te get him accomodated te horde life."

The two cleared their throats and put on their best 'we mean business faces' before slinking out from behind the tree. "Oi! Yew there, on the hay!"

Roughtail was awoken from his peaceful sleep in crude fashion as the hollers of two vermin, who sounded like officers, pierced his ears. He stumbled up groggily and whipped straw from his snout before giving his best salute. "S-serry surs!" He stammered, keeping as stiff as a tree in the presence of his current company. Of course they're not goin' t' just let me sleep in! Roughtail scolded himself. Now I've attracted the attention of the officers, good job. He let out a subtle sigh.

The ferret held out an arm, stopping the much larger rat in his tracks. "Didjew just 'ear wot he called us Dun- I MEAN!- Lootenant Left Corporal Commander Of The Eighth Divison Platoon Brigadier Starboard Plank? He called us 'surs'."

Dung shook his head from side to side. "And 'e was sleepin' in the nice clean hay Skun- I MEAN- Right Hand Captain Cavalier Officer Of The First Platoon Star Plank Division Board!" The rat winked broadly and unsubtlely. "Sounds like insubordination t'me."

Liutenant Left corporal -What the what? He'd heard 'Starboard' somewhere in there. Starboard ain't a rank, Roughtail thought, but he knew better than to say. Maybe they 'ave some weird rankin' system with directions? "Apologies, I be new 'ere. Not too familiar with the… rankin' system an' what not… What didja say yur ranks were again?" Roughtail inquired skeptically.

Dung and Skunksnot shared a look. "Eeeer-" Dung jabbed a finger at the ferret. "Well 'e's the er- Cavalry Plank Board Divison Platoon Charger Captain Of the Eighth-"

Skunksnot stomped on the rat's tail very hard. "It's pretty obvious yer new 'ere!" he snapped. "Considerin' yer not wearin' our uniform!"

"We've got a uniform?" Dung whispered, covering his muzzle with the side of his paw.

"We do now!" Skunksnot whispered back, also covering his muzzle with the side of his paw.

Uniform? "Roughtail shuffled awkwardly, "I-I was told ya were all outta clothes," he said raising his paws in innocence. "Listen fellas, It was great meetin' ya, truly, but I really must be off. Beakist and what not."

"Hold it right there!" Dung barked.

"Drop an' gimme twenty!" Skunksnot yelled, in his best imitation of Harlapple's squeak.

"Dat wasn't part of the plan," Dung whispered, concerned.

"Got carried away, go wid it," Skunksnot whispered back.

Twenty? Twenty what? Then Roughtail remembered Lackfoot's advise. He awkwardly knelt down and began kissing the ground at their feet, counting as he went.

"W-wot's he-" Another sharp stomp to the tail cut short Dung's sentence.

"Very good!" Skunksnot praised.

Somewhere upwards of ten, the rat lost count. Hoping that he'd completed his quota, he rose again, standing at attention.

"Excellent! Das the kind of respect we 'xpect round 'ere. Now less iffen ye've got the muscle we need." Skunksnot jabbed Roughtail in the gut and shook his head. "Nothin' but fat! Tsk, tsk, tsk, not te worry, we'll get yer shaped up. Twenny push ups, now!"

With a groan and a sigh, the rat got on all fours and began pumping out the order. Years of pulling lines and rigging all day had given him a fair bit of super strength so, all things considered, it wasn't too hard. He was more concerned with drawing attention to himself. Sooner I finish me tasks, the sooner I c'n go back to layin' low.

Skunksnot's eyes widened in horror as he realized that this new rat was doing better than most of the horde could. Desperately, he turned to Dung and whisper-screamed. "H-he can't do that! S-shoot him! O-or somethin'!"

"'Ey! I 'aven' started countin' yet! Er- a-an yer serposed ter be liftin' more than yer own weight!" The fat rat sat himself down atop the other rat's back. "Dere, now yew kin start!"

Roughtail's eyes nearly popped out at the added load. His back sagged and his elbows buckled under the weight. Within seconds his face was slammed into the ground, his arms pinned under him at an awkward angle. "C-couldja gerroff?" He groaned with a mouthful of dirt and grime.

"I said twenny, new meat! 'E gets off when I tells 'im too an' no sooner!" Skunksnot very much liked his newfound position of power and was not about to relinquish it so soon. "Now 'urry it up, we've got a whole lista chores te get through before lunch!"

"Ya know, it's comfortable lyin' 'ere," Roughtail lied, stifling a pained groan. "I don't gotta haul sterff or work. It's quite nice…" Roughtail did his best pretend yawn and smacked his lips lethargically, "Ifin ya don't mind, me thinks I'll jus' take ah nap righ' 'ere." Years on the Bloodyscab had taught him a thing or two about getting around the officers. Pretend that I like my punishment. It always results in less punishment, whatever that may be. One time, Roughtail was sentenced to 50 lashes and got it reduced to less than twenty after calling out in delight and praising the officer for scratching his 'itchy back.'

Skunksnot and Dung shared a look of disbelief. 'Cumfurtable? Dung mouthed, stunned and rightfully confused by the statement.

Skunksnot twirled a claw round the side of his head. 'Nutty, this one', he mouthed back, before continuing to address Roughtail. "Alright then, gives us one push up an' we can get round te the other chores."

The rat sighed with relief, that almost always works… almost. He was just glad that it worked this time. Ok one push up. One. That's easy. He was disappointed to find that it was not easy. His arms were twisted under him at an awkward angle resulting in a lame display which looked more like the curved hull of a ship. His belly hardly left the ground, but his shoulders came up. He smiled toothily at the ferret before crashing back down to the hard earth in a cascade of dust. "One" he counted.

"See, that weren't so hard after all! Alright fellow Commanding Officer, let the newbie breeve." Dutifully Dung got off the rat, picked them up by the scruff and batted away the dust. "Yew didn't do too bad," the large rat said, setting Roughtail on the ground. "Better than most in fact," he said with a wink and a hearty pat on the back.

"Thank - you" Roughtail breathed. Looking at the rat who was on top of him, he could hardly believe he'd not been crushed into dust. "So what're me tasks!" He asked enthusiastically.

He was met with a faceful of wet jerkin. "Yer on laundry duty," Skunksnot, now shirtless, grinned. "Slaves 'ave bin ravver slow on the upkeep lately so it's up te us vermin te keep our things clean." His grin widened. "An' by 'us vermin' I mean yew!"

Dung stepped to the side to reveal a large, round wickerbasket, overflowing with unwashed clothes and reeking of every nasty vermin stench under the sun. "Welcome te the horde!" The big rat grinned.

Roughtail's smile dropped a bit at the sight (and smell) of the laundry. Couldn't be drivin' slaves or goin' guard duty huh? As bad as washing laundry seemed, Roughtail figured he could throw in a little something for himself. He could, after all, use some new clothes. "Yur a smart un t' trust me with such an impertant task sur!" He saluted the ferret officer dutifully. Hell, ifin I do ah good job mayhaps I can git a promotion.

"Aye, vurry important task!" Dung and Skunksnot shared a secret high-five. "Meadowblossum owes us a favour now," the ferret whispered as identical grins spread across their very different features. "Skunksnot!" came the familiar yell of an iritated Harlapple fast approaching. "How many times have I told you to never leave a fire unattended!" The incredibly cross little warlord came into view, his undivided scowl fixed firmly on the no-longer grinning ferret. "Errr I er- l-lost count boss." Skunksnot swallowed audibly. "We've already had one massive fire- I'd like to keep it that way." The mouse wrinkled his nose as the unbearable aroma of vermin laundry hit him like a sledgehammer (a less experienced beast might have gagged, or else died on the spot, but Harlapple was eerily accustomed to the stench of his horde). "And what is this doing out here?" He gestured at the laundry basket.

"Oh w-we was just showin' the new recruit around an' errr- g-givin' 'im 'is firs' job." Dung gestured at the basket. "Somebeast's ought ter clean it." "'E only joined las' night an' er- we thought it'd be nice te show 'im 'ow things are done round 'ere." Skunksnot smiled nervously, also pointing to where Roughtail had been standing.

As soon as he glimpsed the mouse, Roughtail had shot like a lightning bolt from his position. The rat was stammering something about inspecting the laundry as he dived headfirst into the clothes bin. Peeking up, with a pant leg draped over his head, he confirmed that the mouse was indeed Harlapple, there was no mistaking that mouse. He was grilling the two officers about something that Roughtail didn't bother to follow. He was just glad the attention was not on himself and was praying to Vulpez that the two vermin didn't give him away. If Harlapple discovers me, hiding in ah basket o' laundry, this stench'll be the least ah my concerns.

Harlapple stared at the empty space Skunksnot was pointing at and his scowl deepened.

"'e was right there boss, I swear it!" The ferret stammered. "P-probably just bolted coz 'e's tryin' te avoid work."

"Nah, 'e's inspectin' the laundry," Dung, who had heard Roughtail's hasty excuse, pointed at the basket.

Harlapple gave the rat in the basket a brief glance.

Roughtail's heart skipped a beat at Dung's words and the mouse's subsequent response. Dung yew absolute fartbrain! A whimper escaped his snout before he could stop it as he glimpsed, for the first time, the sharp metal spike that was attached to the mouse's tail as it swayed back and forth as if in thought. Harlapple hadn't had that before! Or had he? The rat sunk down into the bin and further buried himself. Panic was shooting through his body and he was uncontrollably shaking. A tail spike? How did he know? He gripped his trembling paws together, I'm jus' a sea rat down on me luck an' I'm inspecting the clothes, yes very much inspecting the clothes an' I care 'bout me job so much that I ain't goin' t' come up even fer the Cap'n. Roughtail breathed a sigh of relief at his somewhat formulated plan. I'm not dead… yet.

"And why is he doing that from inside the laundry?" The mouse demanded, paws akimbo. He glared at Dung and Skunksnot with renewed irritation. "Which of you idiots gave him that idea?"

"We din' ask 'im too!" Skunksnot protested. "We just said 'e oughts ter clean it."

Dung leaned forwards to whisper. "Te tell ye teh truth 'e's a bit strange. I sat on him before an' he said hewas cumfurtable so-"

Harlapple pressed a paw against the rat's lips. "I have decided that I don't want to know." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. "In any case it is time for breakfast now. Please make your way over to the rations section." He dismissed the two with a wave. "You can check on the new recruit later."

Dung and Skunksnot saluted smartly, and promptly began following the sweet aroma of herbal stew towards the breakfast line.

The warlord shook his head, leaning against the oversized basket, idly testing the sharpness of his tail-spike. "Got a name?" he asked of the laundry rat.

The rat gulped, "Er- name's Roughtail Cap'n!" He called up through the pile of laundry. "Inspectin' the clothes fer yur honors! I take me task very serious ya see." He shuffled around to make it look as if he was doing something.

Odd... never knew a vermin that'd miss breakfast for work... "Yeees, I can see that. Very diligent of you. I'll have somebeast come and check on your progress later. And maybe bring you some breakfast."

As Harlapple was leaving (breakfast smelled unusually good today) he did a half-turn towards the laundry. "Oh and take extra care of the red things. Most of them are mine."

As his panic subsided a bit, the smell seemed to get worse and he had to stifle multiple gags. "Aye Aye! Cap'n," Roughtail called up. There was so much excitement and relief in his voice, far more than there should have been for a rat who was forced to miss breakfast to wash stinky laundry. Roughtail realized this; he had to add something or else look suspicious. "'ope Breckist smells better th'n this!" he called up in a more annoyed tone.

That is an incredibly low bar... Harlapple noted, as he made his way to the breakfast pit.

"Nuttier than one of 'em nutcrackers!" Skunksnot managed to splutter out between waves of laughter. "An' 'e actually thought we was lootenants an' stuff!"

"An' now we've got him doing the laundry," Dung guffawed. "An' we had him doin' push-ups an' kissin' the ground at us an' everything!"

"Yer pullin' me leg here," Lackfoot grumbled. "Feller didn't sound harf as daft yesterday."

"Well 'e is!" Skunksnot snickered, holding out his bowl for Bill to fill up with a generous ladle of stew. "I bets we can get him ter do anythink we want!"

"Yew know I don't like gamblin'." Lackfoot grumbled, also passing his bowl to Bill. "Always ends badly fur me."

The fox on serving duty payed little mind to the camp gossip shared between the vermin. Bill smiled sinisterly, making sure to give Lackfoot an extra-generous portion of the stew. That's what you get for insulting my intelligence, cripple "Enjoy your breakfast." he said, passing the bowl back to the stoat. He wore a smile worthy of a dentist advertisement.

"Didjew spit in it or sumfink?" Skunksnot asked, giving Lackfoot's bowl a sniff. "Yer lookin' mighty cheerful this mornin' Bill. Ain't normal." With a shrug the ferret lead his fellow fools away.

I'll give you cheerful, ferret. I shall dance upon your grave and laugh as you choke upon the poison! Bill had thought long and hard about his plot. Why just poison the mouse, when I can get rid of the whole horde in one, fell swoop? Redwall will thank me! Honour me! Laden me with riches! And when they least expect it, I shall poison them as well! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

"Something funny Bill?" Harlapple demanded, giving the scarred fox a scrutinizing glare.

Did I say that all out loud? "N-no! No of course not!" he smiled sweetly. "I made sure to make this breakfast extra special for you, heh, 'boss'."

"I don't like your tone," the mouse frowned, swallowing a spoonful of the stew. "Watch your tongue Bill, or I'll have it burned off."

Bill was in too good a mood to be cowed. "Ohoho! Maybe you should watch your tongue, mouse!" He grinned sinisterly. "That stew is very hot! You could burn yourself!" The fox proceeded to cackle at the top of his voice, so that the whole camp was staring at him in utter silence.

Crickets chirped.

"I knew he spit in the stew!" Skunksnot snapped, rising to his feetpaws and hurling Lackfoot's bowl at Bill with murderous intent.

Harlapple felt his chest swell with pride as the fox's muzzle took a direct hit. The target practice is working!

Before the breakfast pit could turn into a full on food-fight, Mama Apple walked in. "Good morning horde!"

"Good morning, Mama Apple!" the assembled vermin chorused, eagerly going back to their breakfasts.

Except for Lackfoot, who had no choice but to go hungry now.

The elderly mouse gave the stewpot a sniff. "How lovely Bill! I had no idea you knew your herbs so well! Let's see, rosemary, thyme, parsley- and just a hint of nutmeg! Divine!" She filled up a pair of bowls. "Just what the good Abbot needs, a nice warm breakfast." She glanced up at the stew splattered all over Bill's face. "We'll have to talk about your table manners another time, I'm afraid. I'm a little bit on the busy side."

"Well Bill, if you can cook this good it's only fair I give you that promotion," Harlapple relented with a sigh.

The fox felt his heart flutter with fresh hope. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course." the warlord smirked. "You are now the horde's official kitchen assistant."