"Vermin! There's vermin at the bar!"
Santain swore as Roland charged toward the kitchen and grabbed Mosslyn by the collar.
"Filthy rat!" He shouted before hurling her to the dirt floor. Before Santain could intervene, swords were freed from their scabbards and pointed at the Steeltails. Dronga cried out in terror as he was knocked to his rear, spilling drinks all over him, as half a dozen deadly edges pointed at his throat.
"What's the meanin' of this!" Roland roared as Mosslyn leaped to her feet. The rat slashed at the otter with her claw striking his cheek. There was a gasp as blood trickled down the barrel-chested beast's face.
"You'll pay for that!" Roland snapped as he hurled a mug at the rat. Mosslyn nimbly dodged it, slipping under his arm and landing a flurry of punches to the tavern keeper's stomach. Roland grunted before grabbing Orsen, who still sat in a drunken shock.
"Catch yer mate, rat!" Rolland yelled as he hurled the light mouse at the vermin. Mosslyn hesitated for a split second before the rogue smashed into her. The two crashed to the floor as the mouse caught her midsection with his elbow. The rat gasped in pain as Orsen mumbled curses toward the large otter. Roland steamed forward, grabbing a sword out of the paw of an oblivious hedgehog. Santain suspected now was the apt time to involve himself.
"Roland, settle down," Santain said as he stepped between the furious otter and Mosslyn.
"Get out of my way Tommok!" The otter snapped as he tried to push the hare aside. "She's vermin!"
"I can see she's a rat, but she hasn't done anything wrong. It's just her idiot brother trying to prove a point," Santain said as he followed closely behind the otter.
"Brother?" Roland spat as he spun to face Santain. "He's a mole!"
"Yes, he's certainly a mole and a mad beast, but he's mad serious t' claim the rat as his sister, same with the otter."
Roland whipped his head toward Ramir who was pushing his way through the crowd. The young otter had a look of stoic determination and unbridled rage.
"Grab that fool!" Roland snapped and immediately several swords were turned toward the otter.
"If you touch my sister again, I'll beat ye senseless, you cowardly bully!" Ramir roared before hurling a mug at the older otter. The mug missed by a wide margin, flying past Roland before landing into the kitchen fire. Wyberd shouted in surprise as the fire died with a hiss.
"If ye look at me daughter again, I'll cut yer lettle tail off before tossin' yer sister into the river!"
"Roland settle yourself!" Santain placed a calm hand on his friend's shoulder. The otter stepped away from the hare, his heavily furred face drooping in a dark frown.
"Vermin aren't allowed here, yet you disguised her like a mouse! You thought you could take advantage of me! What kind of fool do you take me for!"
Santain held his paws up in his defense. "You know I'd never do that to you! I completely forgot; I swear on Lord Bromwell's name! We've been freezing our tails off in the woods for the past two nights, the sight of a friendly inn was enough to make any beast desperate for some warm food and a cot for the night."
"For you maybe." Roland hissed. "But not for these vermin! They're to leave immediately!"
"Come now Roland, they're not that bad. We've just gotten-"
"Not that bad! Are you mad? They'll sneak out at night and slit me throat! They'll burn this inn to the ground for revenge and murder everyone here! You know that you've seen it with your own eyes!"
"I've subdued them, Roland." Santain snapped, he was getting annoyed at his friend's inability to see his reasoning. "We need these prisoners!"
"Why do we need them? There hasn't been a horde since Vott Twisttooth churned trouble in the south… unless you know something we don't."
Santain could feel the room's anger turn toward him. There followed an uneasy silence.
"I would've let you all know if there was a threat to you or Mossflower, you know that, wot!"
"You lied about the vermin, and you wouldn't keep these three mad beasts wid ye if you didn't think them to be important somehow," Roland responded.
"You're right chap," Santain said, regretfully admitting the otter was correct. "Which is why you know all these beasts must make it to Salamandastron in one piece, wot wot."
"Why?" Roland responded. "And why don't you have a whole troop with you if you need to keep it a secret from everyone."
"If I knew what I was getting myself into I would've brought more hares, wot wot," Santain responded as a deep sadness filled his heart.
"Stop lying to us Santain!" Winefred shouted from next to the fire. She held a dagger in one paw and a loaded sling in the other. "Why are you here?"
Santain bit his tongue not to respond in a similar tone. The woodlanders' concerns were valid but he didn't want a mob to try and tear the Steeltails or ferret brothers apart. Sparking confusion amongst beasts within Mossflower Woods is the last thing the hare captain wanted to do. It would also invalidate Thimblebrand's sacrifice if any of them were to run off or be slain.
"Aye, I haven't been completely forthcoming with you for why I'm here. I haven't even told the vermin or these mad beasts either, wot wot." Santain said. "I'm delivering a message to Lord Bromwell from Abbot Micah of Redwall."
There was a shared glance and a small murmur of discussion before the vole Cuthbert raised his voice. "Why would he send ye alone? I'm sure there are swifter hares than ye Captain."
"Aye, there are," Santain said when the snide chuckles died down. "But Abbot Micah wanted me to personally deliver it to Salamandastron. Don't ask me what's in it, he didn't tell me. It's sealed and tis' for Bromwell's eyes only, wot."
"So why the need t' haul these scum about?" Cuthbert's voice was oily. "Surely it's bettah if ye were free to hurry to Salamandastron."
"I told you I didn't intend to cross paths with them, wot. But I did and I decided that they need to come with me to Salamandastron, wot."
Roland didn't appear convinced. "Why is the Patrol in Redwall? I know I asked ye earlier but why are they truly there?"
"I told you earlier you waterlogged knave, we're here because Lord Bromwell and Abbot Micah thought it best for us to be there. To ensure no vermin gets too comfortable in the surrounding countryside and whatnot, wot wot."
"Have you had a run-in with any scoundrels?" Roland blurted, his hatred of vermin overtaking his senses for a moment.
We've got half a score running about the abbey! Santain bitterly thought. He figured it would be best not to inform his friend of that.
"Only as much as the rest of ye. Nothing to threaten the Abbey's great walls."
Roland raised his lip in a disgusted frown. The otter wouldn't stop the hare, as long as the Steeltails and the ferret pair would keep their mouths shut. Santain figured they were all too scared or smart enough to keep quiet.
"All we need is a warm meal and a cot to lay in for the night and we'll be right on our way, wot wot!" Santain rested his case.
"Yes, ye do." Roland huffed. Santain smiled, his shoulders dropping in relief. "But yer not staying here! I've had more than enough trouble with vermin this season. Untrustworthy friends and suspicious companions don't ease my concerns."
Santain was beside himself. "Hold on just a flippin' minute! I didn't mean t' lie t' ye an' we've spent the past few nights-"
"Then ye can spend the next two outside as well," Roland said as he turned to the bar and began to upright some of the steins knocked over by his outburst. "I'm not gonna have vermin in my inn, that's final. You can stay if you want but they," Roland pointed at the Steeltails, "need to leave."
"They've done nothing-"
"Enough!" Roland roared. "I'm trying to be kind, but ye lied t' me! You brought these fiends into my house without my knowledge! You're lucky I'm still offering you a place t' sleep."
"They need to stay with me!" Santain protested. "I need t' take them t' Salamandastron, wot! They'll run off if I leave 'em outside!"
"Well, then it seems you have your answer." The otter responded with a rather cold hiss. "Now get out of my home, before I force ye out!"
The door to the Fishtail Tavern slammed shut in Santains face. The hare bit down on his tongue so as not to shout profanities toward his friend and make things far worse. With a sigh, his mustache drooped in exhaustion as he shuffled about to the Steeltails and ferret brothers. They looked at him, despair painting their faces.
"A rotten group o' beasts anyways," Wungle muttered. A wave of fury washed across the hare's face. He stormed past the mole and picked up a pack of food and drink that the Riverwakes made for him.
"It would've been nice t' have a roof over our heads. But yew had' t' ruin it fer all o' us!" Santain shouted at the mole. "You couldn't have kept yer bloomin' mouth shut ye shorted pillok!"
Wungle winced from the hare's scolding.
"They would've hurt Dronga or Mosslyn. We should leave if they can't refrain from harming other beasts for a single blasted evening." Ramir spoke up.
"What does it matter, they're vermin anyway!" Santain shouted back.
"Come now Captain," Wungle responded with an exasperated sigh. "Were they that bad? Did Mosslyn or Dronga do anything t' warrant us getting thrown out of the tavern?"
"They're vermin that's more than enough reason t' toss 'em out, wot!"
"Poppycock!" Wungle snapped back. "You keep saying that like it gives you a reason t' act like a bully! Mosslyn kept quiet and out of the way, Dronga took their abuse in stride and even Smig kept his mouth shut." Santain glared at the no-legged ferret, who returned the gesture with as much animosity. "What more could we have done?"
"Well, you could be dead." Santain spat without a passing glance. "That would solve most all o' me problems, wot!"
"Yer problems are that ye feel rotten fer how they were treated. All yer friends think it's right t' bully and harm beasts they don't like the look of! You know it's wrong but ye look past it. This is why the Long Patrol has lost its way. Yew claim t' protect the innocent yet ye would let those otters tear Dronga t' bits!"
"I should've let Roland have his way with the blighter! Would've saved all o' us the trouble, wot wot!"
Wungle threw his claws into the air in desperation. "Fine go ahead! Slay them! I'm sick of you talking about these vermin like you've got the guts to do anything but bully them! You're nothing but a coward unless ye slay them and prove you're a brave Captain of the Long Patrol!"
"What? Wungle, don't-" Ramir was interrupted by the mole.
"Nope let him! He thinks it best t' slay 'em, let him do it. He thinks there's no reason to keep them and I'm sick and tired of hearing him complain about how horrible they are so he can puff up his ego. Captain Santain, prove how strong and brave you are by slaying this pair of lame ferrets!"
A warm rush flooded the hare's senses. Santain winked a smile as he turned toward Smig and Dronga. "Well now that ye say it. I've been getting tired o' these two leeches. Thank ye!" Their eyes flicked toward Wungle then back to the hare as he drew his rapier.
"I've been waiting a long time fer this, wot wot!"
"W-wait n-n-no! Please!" Dronga stammered as he limped backward. Smig wore a horrified expression as he watched his plans crumble right in front of him.
"Yer gonna regret running in t' me you vermin scum!" Santain hissed as he stormed forward. His sword arm was grabbed from behind. Whipping around he looked into Mosslyns sad green eyes.
"Leggo ov' me rat, unless ye want me t' loose yer head from yer body, wot wot!"
Mosslyn let go stepping back immediately in what Santain thought was a feeble attempt to garner his sympathy. All the Steeltails watched him with a mixture of disgust and deep sadness. The only beast who looked like he was going try and stop him was Ramir, but a fierce glare from the hare led to the otter muttering some choice words and looking in the other direction.
"What've we gotten ourselves into?" Ramir asked with an obvious tightness in his chest. "Father would be so ashamed!"
"Ashamed of wot ye mad cur!" Santain screamed at the Steeltails. "I'm the only one here who makes any semblance of bloody sense!" He felt a vein in his head throb. The ferrets were evil, all vermin were evil. They had to be stopped.
"Then slay them! You know how evil they are, you're the protector of all good in Mossflower." Wungle chided. "You've seen how heartless these fiends have been, sheltering you, sharing their food, helping you on your journey home, and taking your abuse without complaint. Tis clear they don't deserve t' live do they!"
Santain tried tuning the mole's mocking voice out. Vermin were evil, Salamandastron knew it, the Long Patrol drilled it into him, and he had experienced it. Yet Redwall is seemingly forgetting that and these woodlanders completely deny it. Even now the ferrets were being filthy cowards fleeing from their judgement.
"Hurry yer mangy hide Dronga! He's coming right fer us!" Smig hissed.
Dronga watched the hare storm towards him with eyes as large as dinner plates. With a gasp, ferret tried to hobble away but he didn't make it far with his brother on his back. Santain hit him in the head with the guard of his rapier and pounced.
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Dronga sobbed as he tried to scramble away. Santain pinned him to the snow with a large boot to his chest.
"I'll kill yew hare! Iv ye touch a hair on 'is 'ead ill bash yer skull in! I'll fry yer ears and force 'em down yer gullet!" Smig snapped as he scratched at the hare's leg. Santain punched him several times to get him to quiet down. The legless ferret cursed the Long Patrol as his brother began to wail. His clean kill was becoming more of a mess the longer he waited.
Santain pressed the tip of his rapier against Drongas neck. The pitiful beast sobbed and blubbered apologies. Santain thought back to the seer in the abbey. Those two were more alike than he initially thought.
"What's the hold up hare?" Wungle called. "Ye come t' yer senses er somethin'?"
"Shuddup mole!" Santain snapped. Wungle stood aside his siblings. Mosslyn buried her face into Ramirs shoulder. The otter watched him with a disappointed expression on his angled face. Santain hesitated.
Why do they care about these fools? They're vermin, they're evil. Why are they looking at me like I'm a villain?
Santain looked at Dronga as tears slid down his masked face. He was a pitiful beast, a klutzy fool, and a tame beast to order about. He had gotten in Santains way, and it led to Corporal Thimblebrand's death. He had to be punished for it! Yet his conscience nagged him.
It was an accident. This is wrong!
With a furious shout, Santain slashed at Drongas throat. The world fell silent. The edge of his blade bit into the frozen snow a whisker length from the ferret's throat.
Without a word, Santain stood up and backed away from the ferret. He watched wordlessly as Mosslyn and Ramir rushed to the sobbing ferret's side. Wungle walked beside him and took his paw in his claw.
"My father always said the hardest decision is always the first. Thank you, Captain. I knew you'd make the right choice."
The mole's words traveled through one ear and out the other as the hare sheathed his sword.
"Let's make a camp for the night. It's already far too late."
This was supposed to be out sooner but school ended up taking my attention. That being said I have completed most of the next chapter minus edits and such, I hope to be out with that very soon.
As always please let me know what you think and what can be improved upon. Any and all feedback is appreciated!