[IC] The Yurazen Prince - A Tale of Redwall

_{Dedicated to the memory of Brian Jacques...}

T H E Y U R A Z E N P R I N C E

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^{A T A L E O F R E D W A L L}

P R O L O G U E:

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The warm autumn winds shifted through the bustling courtyard, carrying the various crimson and golden leaves through the air and across the sandstone walls of Redwall Abbey. Anticipation hung in the air as the various beasts hurriedly finished their tasks, knowing the excitement that awaited them. Outside the towering gates, music could be heard in the distance as the colourful banners of the Travelling Thistledown Troupe appeared on the horizon. In the lead was a tall hare, who betwixt his paws held a large conch shell. Holding it to his mouth, the hare's ears stood up as he emptied his lungs through the shell. Its cry echoed ahead of the troupe announcing their approach.

The arrival of the troupe only further served to signal that the Name Day festivities would soon ensue. Delicious aromas wafted from the abbey's kitchen, filling the Great Hall and making their way into the courtyard where the Thistledown Troupe was receiving a very warm welcome. Dibbuns who could barely contain their excitement broke out of their single line formation behind the Sister watching them, descending upon the arrival troupe with squeaks and giggles of unbridled joy.

Jugglers and tumblers suddenly moved to the front of the crowd, wooing and entertaining them well into the evening, Their antics caused the Dibbuns to roll around the grass in fits of giggles while deep belly laughs came from the adults in attendance. As the night wore on and the smell of the feast being prepared overwhelmed the senses of the hungry crowd. As if hearing the cries of the stomachs of those in attendance, the Troupe's Melodious Mice broke into song, humming a simple melody while the hare returned to the stage and placed the shell to his mouth again blowing a few well-timed notes before breaking into song.

"Food to eat and games to play.
Tell me why, tell me why."

The hare's question was barely out of his mouth before the Dibbuns cried back in response, their less than on key voices drowning out the three mice lasses joining along with them.

“Kind muvva, gudd muvva, er, er, O pleeze tell this beast
Dat this is our Nameday, an’, an’, an’ we wanna feast!”

The hare chortled with laughter before responding once more.

“Serve it out and eat it up.
Have a try, have a try.
Nameday, Nameday, fun and game day,
Come, Brother, Sister, join our play.
This season has a name!”

As the hare let his final note ring out, a pair of moles in colourful clothes and silly make-up snuck up behind him. The Dibbuns cried out for the Hare to watch out but it was too late as the mole dumps a pair of buckets over his head. Laughter erupted from the crowd suddenly as the buckets emptied, as in place of water, flower petals rained over the hare.

"Let's eat!" The Friar cried out as the crowd moved into the Great Hall. Sprawling tables were filled with all sorts of foods. It was a joyous meal for honest creatures. Dishes went this way and that from paw to paw. Dishes made to be passed and to be shared. Dishes both sweet and savoury.

Hot cornbread with hazelnuts and apple baked into it, and a salad of celery, lettuce, shredded carrot, and white button mushrooms. Steaming soups, new bread with shiny golden crusts, old cheeses studded with dandelion, acorn and celery. Turnip-potato-beetroot pie, shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, and numerous cheeses rounded out the savoury dishes. But that was hardly the extent of the feast.

Snowcream pudding, hot fruit pies, colourful trifles, tasty pastries and nutbread cake iced with clover honey. Sugared plums and honeyed pears vied for a place with the harvest salads and vegetable flans. Turnovers, fondants and tarts alternated with beakers of cold fizzy strawberry cordial, cowslip and parsley liquor, brown ale, greensap milk, mint tea, rosehip cup and elderberry wine to wash it all down.

Not a single beast walked away from the Nameday feast with an empty stomach and more than a few walked away plumper than they had been when the day began. The watchful eyes of Martin the Warrior peered down fondly from his image upon the sprawling tapestry that nearly spanned the entire width of the Great Hall. The tapestry originally detailed the founding of Redwall Abbey and Martin's triumph over Tsarmina Greeneyes but over the years it had been added to and now was a visual history of the Abbey's history. From Martin to his reincarnation, Matthias and beyond, the tapestry depicted the Abbey, its warriors and the events that had befallen it.

Studying the tapestry in an effort to stretch his legs after such a full meal, the young initiative paused upon coming to a fearsome figure looming at the edge of the intricate piece of art. The stitching here was newer than other places, a more recent addition to the tapestry. The figure in question was drawn like a wildcat, but larger, the ears different, more pointed with tuffs coming off of the end. An army of vermin surrounded the figure, shields like the initiative had never seen, interlocked and creating a wall.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the Yurazen Prince?" A voice asked from behind the initiative, causing the young squirrel to nearly jump out of his fur.

"Abbot-"

"Oh young one, I didn't mean to frighten you." The Abbot chuckled, "Beautiful isn't it? The tapestry is one of the Abbey's most precious possessions. Arguably more so than the Sword of Martin itself." He added, gesturing with a grayed paw towards the blade hung above the tapestry. Forged of a fallen star, the Sword of Martin the Warrior was a family heirloom that was reforged by the Badger Lord, Boar the Fighter. In times of trouble, the Spirit of Martin would elect a champion from the Abbey to wield the legendary blade. A simple weapon adorned with a red pommel stone, the blade was inscribed with the phrase 'I AM THAT IS'.

"I've never seen anything like it." The young squirrel responded. "It's almost like it was calling to me."

"It's not unusual for the Spirit of Martin to do so." The Abbot mused, "He has quite the eye for potential."

"Who was the Yurazen Prince?" The squirrel asked returning to the Abbot's initial question.

"Oh, that is quite the tale, so much so perhaps everyone should gather around." The Abbot answered, raising his voice to address the Great Hall. "Come, young ones," The elder beast stated as he moved towards his chair with the aid of his cane.

"The tale of the Yurazen Prince comes from the first-hand account of Brother Rigby, nearly twenty seasons ago. Gather around my friends, our story begins now."

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[Lord Wraith]

B O O K I - T H E T H I E F

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Spring was in full bloom in Mossflower. Warm westerly winds had chased away the last of the snow and the trees were beginning to blossom and begin anew the circle of growth and life. Mossflower Woods was alive with the sound of young life and the chirps of birds returning from beyond Southsward.

Pacing through the courtyard, the elderly mole, Abbot Munty, observed the beasts of the Abbey hard at work as they scurried about preparing the gardens for planting and sowing the crops to care for over the next season before harvesting them once Autumn comes. It had been a tranquil time of peace in Mossflower over the past seasons. Mossflower had not seen trouble since the time of Abbot Thibb. It was an unparalleled period of peace, the likes of which hadn't been experienced since the time before Matthias and the Late Rose Summer Wars.

Today was a special day at the Abbey. It was Nameday, the day when the Abbot of Redwall Abbey formally named the season. The occasion was particularly exciting for Dibbuns, but also for grown beasts since it was marked by a feast and many fun activities lasting up to two days. The tradition had been mostly unchanged since the time of Abbess Vale although some Abbots chose to hold the feast in the orchard depending on the season and weather as opposed to the Great Hall where all feasts were traditionally held.

The previous night had been filled with stories of heroes and Namedays of old, while the morning saw the Dibbuns begin their parade around the Courtyard while they had begun their traditional song calling for the feast to begin. The feast in question had been in the process of preparation since the previous day and all Abbey beasts had awoken to aromatic smells of the various foods being prepared. It was a joyous day for them all.

"Spare a crumb for the p'or and unfort'nate?" A voice suddenly cried through the din. It came from outside of the Abbey walls, catching the attention of Abbot Munty as he made his way towards the gatehouse to see how Brother Rigby and Zaris were getting along with the gatekeeper, Brother Jethro.

"Oi, who be thurr outsides the gates?" The Abbot asked as he approached the small building alongside the main gate.

Peering down over the wall, the vole gatekeeper could see a stoat alongside a rat and a ferret.

"It be vermin, Father," The vole called back.

"We be not but humble forest beast, we're simply starving and Redwall Abbey has a repu-atation of 'elping p'or beasts in a need."

"Abbot?" Brother Jethro asked.

"Haver 'em searched fo thur weapons," The mole nodded, "But'er Redwall does notter turna way any beast in needed."

"We have not any weapons!" The stoat called again, "We're naught but peaceful vermin."

"We'll be the judge of that," Jethro called back as he began to open the door. Approaching the three vermin, Jethro held his quarterstaff tightly while the vermin opened their cloaks to reveal that they were indeed unarmed. Nodding his approval, Jethro motioned them through the gate before calling to Brother Rigby.

"Help these three find their way to the Great Hall, they can earn their meal but helping the Friar."

Watching them leave, Jethro turned to Zaris. "Keep an eye on those three, I don't trust vermin in the abbey."

[PrankFox]

It had only been a short time, at least shorter than most beasts, that Zaris had found himself at Redwall Abbey. It had taken some time, and no small amount of work on the part of the healers present to get him back on his feet, and he was more than grateful for that. Hence why he was currently posted up by the gate with his sling and swords. Officially his role was helping Brother Jethro with manning the gate, but he was happy to help keep watch as well. It was a time of peace, for the Abbey at least, so mostly he spent the days standing around and helping open the gate when the need arose.

Nothing much exciting had happened in his time at the gate, unless he accounted for Brother Rigby's constant pestering, but he'd grown somewhat fond of the mouse despite himself. Either way he was happy to help out given the aid that the Abbey had given him. He leaned against the inner wall of the gatehouse with a sigh, idlily tossing stones between his paws and listened to the chirping birds outside. The new season was happily welcomed, but each day he spent at the Abbey was one day longer that the vermin that killed his family had to wander away from Mossflower Woods.

Despite this, he was eagerly anticipating the feast that was planned for the evening, and he had even enjoyed listening to the stories that were told about the previous heroes of the Abbey. Rather different from the ones that he heard from his tribe, but no less entertaining. It wouldn't be too bad sticking around the Abbey for just a little longer. As long as he had to in order to repay his debt to the goodbeasts who took him in.

The sound of voices pulled him out of his thoughts, as did the arrival of Abbot Munty to the gatehouse. He pushed off the wall; quickly tucking the stones back into his pouch as Brother Jethro looked over the wall. His eyes narrowed at the gatekeeper's call that there were vermin on the other side of the gate, and he couldn't help but scoff at the beasts saying they were peaceful. He'd never in his life met a single vermin who wanted peace, it was anything but for them.

He followed a step behind Brother Jethro as the gate was opened, one paw held slightly back towards where his twinned swords were sheathed. There was no way these vermin had good intentions, but he wasn't going to argue with the Abbot. If the Father allowed them into the Abbey, and they did appear to be unarmed, who was he to say otherwise. He hadn't been here long enough, but the sight of the vermin traipsing through the gate made his scars itch.

"Aye Brother, I don't trust 'em any farther than I could sling a stone in the woods." He slammed the ground with his rudder before stepping away to join up with Brother Rigby and lead the vermin to the Friar. If they were going to be here he wouldn't let them out of his sight.

[Nemaisare]

Although the excitement of the celebration to come was doing its level best to ward away the fatigue of having gone to sleep late and woken up far too early, Brother Rigby couldn’t hide the yawn that stretched his mouth wide as he leaned on the battlements beside Brother Jethro. He was looking in entirely the wrong direction, of course, entertaining himself with the view of the Dibbuns’ antics and the many smells he could parse on the breeze. Trying to guess what all was going to be served and making his stomach rumble while he was at it.

“Mmm, sweet apple tarts, I’ll bet. Oooh, mushroom flans, d’you smell that? I’m sure of it. Dripping with leek and onion gravy…” He took in a deep breath, chuckling at the poor Sister trying to corral the Dibbuns into some semblance of order before they got underpaw; she did have her work cut out for her. “And nutbread warm from the oven, just enough it’ll steam your whiskers when you break into a piece. Wash it down with some of that sweet wildberry and pear cordial ole Ellis brought out this winter. There’s still a few beakers left, I-Who’s that then?”

Cut off mid-imaginings, Rigby’s ear twitched at the halloo behind him, and he wondered if that wasn’t the reason Jethro hadn’t told him to quiet his musings earlier. The vole was doing a far better job keeping an eye out for visitors who’d heard the news and come to join the celebrations. For one, he was actually looking the right way. Though as Rigby hitched himself around and grabbed his crutches, he saw the Gatekeeper looking down with a grim expression and Abbot Murty ambling his way across the front lawn. It did not occur to him why Brother Jethro might be making such a face until he’d poked his head out and peered down for himself and then his eyes went wide.

Vermin at the gate?!

Where’d they popped out from? So far as he knew, the Abbey hadn’t been troubled by their ilk for quite some time, though that wasn’t to say they weren’t about… Well, maybe they were only passing through. They looked a right scruffy trio, though the stoat had a wheedling tone that might well have convinced Rigby of their claims if it hadn’t been for the wary welcome the Abbot and Brother Jethro were offering. Still, who could blame them for knocking on the gate when the air smelled so heavenly?

Once the decision was made to let them in, and he’d made it down off the steps to solid ground, the young mouse didn’t hesitate to accept the task he’d been given. “Right you are, Brother Jethro. We’ll get them squared away with the proper motivation.” Rigby knew full well how much good incentive there was to be found in the kitchens with the reward sitting right in front of you, painting the air with tantalising scents and always looking like a right work of art. “Well, hullo then, you three. Come along now afore those empty stomachs of yours have everyone thinkin’ it’ll rain. Right thunderous racket they’re making. Follow me and we’ll see you fed.”

And so saying, he led them off smartly, though not so fast that Zaris couldn’t catch up without much trouble. And along the way, not entirely unaware of the otter’s stern countenance behind him, though rather less concerned by it than the rat, stoat, and ferret might have been, he kept up a steady stream of commentary. “Come at just the right time, you lot have. Bound to be a score of things still needs doing and even more good victuals to fill up on afterwards. I’m Rigby, by the by. How d’you fancy yourselves at chair hauling? Or barrel rolling? Friar’ll want you washing your paws before he’ll let you anywhere near the food. Not to say it’s just you, he gets after everyone that way. Right, Zaris? Ah, could you get the door?”

[Cyrania]

Away from the Abby, the sounds of the celebration wafted in the breeze, dibbuns laughing and cheering about. As the young squirell maid started to wake from her pine needle bed, she couldn't but help be reminded of simpler times, happier days. The way would gather together to feast and...

She shook her head, then stood up. No time for such musings now. She stroked a hand down her golden fur. Vermin could be here any moment now. She strode to her larder, grabbed out some fresh berries to munch on, then checked it over. "Should last at least a week, if I ration well." She said to herself. "I still could gather more..." Then she gave a quick herself a quick scrub from some of her water, put on her bow and quiver, looked through her glade to see if it was clear, then when it was to her satisfaction, she started climbing down to the berry patch.

It truly was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining as the birds sang their songs above. For most creatures, this might be a day to enjoy. Marigold Yew though couldn't though, watching her shoulder constantly as she searched for what was ripe of the wild crop. The laughter over yonder caused her to pause for a moment, but she only shook herself and went back to work. She was doing quite well on her on.

There was no need to have anyone else.

[Fading Memory]

The cool stones were well familiar beneath aged paws. Over seasons of care, a pattern of movement had treaded itself into the memory of these stones; the path remembering the walker as much as the walker the path. To the hedgehog warden of these casks and barrels, those stones may as well have been the softest and most comfortable of walking paths. To Ellis of the Tap, the weighty atmosphere laden with the knowledge and flavors of innumerable seasons was Home. He traversed it on this most important of days now with a most sacred task in paw. In fact, his paw rises now and, with a languorousness born from confidence and practice alike, raps upon the lid of a cask.

A gentle thud bounced back to his ears.

"Three quarters." He responded immediately, his words sparking the movements of his till-now silent follower. The younger Hedgehog, Grant, swiftly penned down this declaration on a parchment he bore. "Hm..." Ellis continued, before tapping the wood again and listening closer. "...Four-Fifths, to be true."

Grant paused, then rectified his inventory.

"Father, I'm quite proud of that one." The younger spikebeast added with a chittering tone. "I think it's ready, and it is Nameday-"

"Lad, tis ready." Ellis assuaged his son's ramble before it could even begin. "The fifth missing has been my own sippin' and samplin'. I got downright tipsy with the brew preparing for the feast. You did good with it; Buttercup, for sure, and I taste Burdock- strange comb'nation, but ye've got the quantities well enough. You sof'nd the bitterness well, tis some honey in there, but the brew has some bite! Sipping draft, not a quaffing ale, for true. There is a hint of something else to it, what craftiness gripped you?" Ellis played the coy mentor for now, trying to stoke Grant's confidence with some light praise and analysis. If the young man could have the confidence with the Craft that he did with the maidens, Redwall would never remember sobriety!

Beaming, Grant replied;

"A taste of Chestnut, father."

"Ah! That marks the smoothness beneath! Well made, lad, well made. It bites the tongue, soothes, then slides down soft. I 'spect it'll go well. Did ye name it right?"

"I've been calling it Chestnut Bitters."

"...Decent enough, rolls off the tongue. Bit like the brew, that name; it'll do. Keep it on the list. Mm...What does that put us at for the preparin'?"

"The last of elder October Ale stores, we've plenty of a newer brew to supplement needs, as well as plentiful Strawberry Cordial and Nutbrown..."

The two followed the familiar path as Grant's voice filled the air; after a few moments, Ellis was no longer listening to his son. The words in the air carried with them familiar tones, the way the sound bounced off the stones was soothing to the greying Hedgehog, but he found himself listening not to the content of the words and rather the sounds. The way they flowed through this most sacred of places, the way the wood of the barrels and the stones of the cellar amplified and carried them. His eyes shut and he walked the familiar paths of the Cellar as the sounds reverberated and echoed around him in their soft and subtle ways. When the sounds finally made their convoluted adventure back to Ellis' mind, twas a strange occurrence indeed;

"Ellis, my love, you canst be resting upon your feet just yet."

Ellis went stock still, suddenly rigid- his spikes rising briefly and causing Grant to stumble to a halt.

"--Is everything alright, Father?"

Ellis tensed, his eyes opening wide. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and suddenly thumped a paw into the palm of its companion with gusto.

"There should still be a bit of the Wildberry an' pear cordial, aye?"

"Aye." Grant allowed, his eyes studying the elder with concern.

"Then let us rid ourselves of it on this day, add it to the list. I was tryin' to 'member which of the brews was running empty and it finally came back to me jus' now." His spines relaxed, returning him to his admittedly still impressive stature for a Hedgehog; a stature that Grant himself was steadily approaching as the seasons carried on. "Now harken to me lad, listen well; my eyes need some proper light after spending the morn' doing this, I'm goin' to be trusting you to handle the rest of the sampling and servicing whilst I go check on affairs above and make sure there isn't some small request or preference we'd be missin'. Nobeast deserves to go through a Nameday with disappointment on their tongue."

And before Grant could fully formulate a response, Ellis was barreling his way through the cellars with Haste. Grant looked down at the parchment in his hands, then around at the various casks and barrels now left to his sole purview.

"...Aye, sampling indeed. Gotta make sure it all tastes tip-top for the Nameday. Aye... Better start with the Strawberry...Needs straining...and sampling..."

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Ellis' haste brought him out from the cellars in short order. He let out a huff as he hefted the cellar doors closed, dusting his hands off unnecessarily to mark the conclusion of a task.

"Mm... Need to be rememberin' to take it easy on stairs." He muttered to himself, before turning and adjusting his gait to a more natural and calm pace. His eyes were open now, but narrowed still; that voice he'd heard had troubled him, sent him into a remembering mood. It had been her...

"Good day to ye fellows." He said in a polite and warm manner, stopping by the doors to the Abbey as Rigby, Zaris, and company, approached. The bulk of the Hedgehog transitioned itself out of the way as they approached. He was all smiles and good cheer. "Welcome to Redwall, and on Nameday too!" He offered towards the Vermin. "Tis a good day to visit. Hope you lot are hungry; I know I am!"

He began to walk back down the path, nodding to Rigby then to Zaris. His spikes rose fractionally, then settled back down, as he passed the Vermin. He had offered the vermin an inviting warmth that those familiar with his history, but not with the Hedgehog himself, would find puzzling at first glance. Briefly he extended a paw to Zaris and pat him companionably upon the shoulder in passing, but said nothing further as he made his way towards the gate and out into Mossflower Country.

His wanderings did not take him far from the vaunted abbey walls. His meandering gait lead him down the path and towards the wood, sure footfalls soon leaving the beaten path and guiding him to a bend in the River Moss. Kneeling down at its bank, the greying creature stuck a paw into its cool waters as the wind flowed around him. If he closed his eyes and made himself let go of the now, the wind almost sounded like a voice to him- some far off whisper reaching his ears. Stirring old memories, bringing a chill to his bones, and filling him with a mortality. Silence reigned for a time, until at last Ellis' voice rose out over the River's Bend;

Adelaide. Oh, Adelaide.
A time had come again
Where I could hear you...

Adelaide. Oh, Adelaide.
You greet me in mem'ry
You hold me in song!
Your smile always was sweet to me...
It has been so long!

Beloved, oh sweetness of my life!
What more is there? What more tasks my life?
Why can't I rest yet? Why can't I stop?
The boy is yet grown; I've tended that crop.

Adelaide! Oh, Adelaide!
I see you in him, my dear!
The way he walks
The way he talks
It keeps you, oh Adelaide!
It keeps you so very near!

I can hear you, my dear...
Speak up, let me hear what you say!
Speak up, dearest Adelaide, before your voice fades...Away...

His baritone trembled as the song came to an end, strength seeming to sap from the hedgehog's shoulders as he stooped to dip his paw back into the river. The wind coiled through the air and seemed to grow calmer to his ears. He heaved a quiet sigh and pulled his paw from the river to wipe at his cheeks.

"Tis not a day for rain." He mumbled quietly to himself. "Hoist thyself, Ellis of the Tap, and carry the spirit with you."

Strength surged back into his limbs and body as he rose up, leaving this most sacred of places- where the bend met the wood, where the sunlight gleamed with mirth through the trees overhead, where the wildflowers grew in thick, where he and Adelaide had spent many a moonlight hour- as he returned to Redwall Abbey.

The lad could handle the Cellar; someone had best see that those glorious smells weren't being disrupted by some well-meaning mischief. Taps aren't the only thing that needs sampling, after all, and some dibbuns grow older without growing up...

[Lord Wraith]

B A N C R O F T

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The young mouse took a slow but intentional step backward. The fresh soil beneath his paws was cool and moist, finding its way between every toe as he gingerly took another step. The wooden shaft in his hand was gripped tightly, the axe handle extended before him while the weight of the axe head sat behind his paws. A sharp crack filled the air as Bancroft, son of Geoffrey Fieldmouse, parried the incoming attack. The rat in front of him, pushed down harder on his weapon, using his larger size to try to take the advantage. Standing his ground, Banny grit his teeth, his ears flattening towards the back of his head.

With a feint to the left, the young mouse suddenly put all his might to the right, pushing the weapon away from his head before moving it through a smooth arc and neatly disarming his foe. Spinning around on a heel, Bancroft stopped the weapon just short of the rat’s neck.

“BANCROFT G. FIELDMOUSE!” The voice echoed across the field freezing the young mouse in place. Laughter erupted from the brown rat in front of him as Bancroft sheepishly lowered the axe handle and turned to face his mother.

“I can only assume the field must be fully tilled if the two of you have time to play pretend?” Lonicera asked, her tone unamused. Her eyes darted from the axe gripped between her son’s paws and the hoe laying where it had been discarded after Bancroft disarmed Riker.

“You both could have seriously injured yourself, tools are not toys.” Lonicera continued, picking up the hoe and handing it back towards Riker. “Banny, get washed up.” She ordered, motioning with both head and tail for the younger mouse to head back to the brick farmhouse. “Despite this setback, I think we can still make the Name Day feast at the Abbey.”

“We’ll be takin’ care of things here, Ms. ‘Cera,” Riker responded. “Lots to plant yet.” The brown rats had always farmed in Mossflower, even as far back as the days of Matthias and Cluny the Scourge. In those days, the latter had destroyed their homes to pressgang the rats into his army. While there was still plenty of animosity between rats and the Woodlanders, the brown rats that lived near the farm had always been of the agreeable sort. After the death of Bancroft’s father, Geoffrey, along with many of their farmhands, Lonicera, Bancroft’s mother, had managed to make a deal with the rats and in exchange for a share of the crops and a portion of the more fertile land, they helped to work the farm as partners.

“Thank you, Riker,” Lonicera responded as the large rat returned to the till while the two mice moved back towards their home. Adjusting the crimson scarf around his neck, the young mouse made a small squeak as if he was about to speak. Only now just entering his adult seasons, Bancroft often felt his mother saw too much of his father in him. He wasn’t content to be a farmer, he wanted to go on adventures. Bancroft wanted to see Salamandastron, he wanted to venture to Southsward.

More importantly, he wanted to swing a real sword. When he was younger, he had watched his father practice. He’d watch mesmerized as the metal blade twirled through the air, neatly slicing through apples and candle wicks. He touched a paw to the scarf draped around his neck once more, it sometimes felt like the ache of this wound would never go away.

“I miss him too,” His mother interjected, seemingly reading Bancroft’s mind. “He used to love feasting at the Abbey, Geoff was quite fond of the cellarhog, Ellis. He had many friends within those sandstone walls. Your father was renowned for having the appetite of a hare, the rowdiness of an otter, and the speed of a squirrel.”

“How did you meet him?” Bancroft asked.

“I met him at the Abbey. I was an initiative, on my way to being a Sister of the Abbey. But your father had other plans. Few could refuse his roguish charm. He was a farm boy, but so full of life and zeal. I see so much of him in you, my Banny.” Lonicera stated, looking up at Bancroft with a sad smile. A single tear welled up in the corner of his eye before she laughed suddenly.

“I’m still not used to you being taller than me.”

“Get used to it, Mom,” Banny retorted, “I’m not going to get any shorter.”

“Ah, there you two are.” A baritone of a voice called. Turning to its source, Bancroft suddenly found it was his turn to look up. Standing over top of the two mice was an older otter, silver dusted his muzzle and was flecked throughout his fur. Hoyt Tidebreaker had been a long-time friend of the family. The sea otter had taught Geoffrey everything he knew about how to handle a weapon and in turn, had also taught Bancroft a thing or two whenever Cera wasn’t hovering over the young mouse.

“Wagon be all ready to head up to the Abbey whenever yer ready, mateys,” Hoyt stated, motioning towards the wheeled cart behind him.

“Thank you, Captain,” Cera smiled as she climbed inside, “Bancroft, go clean up.”

“Aye, aye, Mom!” He saluted smartly before rushing inside. Dusting his fur off, Bancroft cleaned the soil from his feet before changing his footwraps for freshly laundered ones. One after all didn’t want to wear soiled footwraps to the Name Day Feast.

Emerging from the farmhouse, Bancroft took a second to wave to Riker one last time before clambering aboard the wagon. Nodding to both of his passengers, Hoyt took hold of either shaft emerging from the front of it and began to pull them towards the direction of the Abbey.

---

Friar Rudolph ‘Ruddy’ Riverswyft hurriedly moved around the Abbey Kitchen. The river otter was hard at work as various dishes began to come to a point of completion. Still, it felt like the work was never-ending, there was still shrimp to peel, potatoes to boil and carrots to chop. A few more paws could go a long way towards helping pull it all together.

“Well, slap me rudder and call me a beaver.” Friar Ruddy bellowed as he erupted into thunderous laughter. “Zaris and Rigby, I could kiss the pair of ye, what is it here that you’ve a-brought me? Some right proper kitchen aids is it?” The rotund otter was absolutely mirthful at the site of the two Abbey dwellers and the three vermin.

“Tis happens every year, some vermin wanting a handout meander into the abbey and ol’Jethro sends ‘em to me.” Ruddy rubbed his paws together, happily slapping his rudder against the Abbey’s stone floor. “Righty then, Rigby, can you show the vixen there how to peel the shrimp. Yous there, Ferret and Stoat, I’ve gots vegetables that need chopping but the whole lotta of ye best be washing yer paws up before you touch anything.”

The happy otter turned towards Zaris last.

“I suppose you’ll be heading back to Brother Jethro, I was wondering if you could maybe instead check the cellar for some more hotroot. I think the soup is lacking in kick and that just won’t do.” Tossing a candied chestnut towards Zaris for his trouble, Ruddy turned back around to his four conscripts.

“Alright, let's get cracking lads and lady!”

[PrankFox]

Vermin in the Abbey. It was not something Zaris thought he would see even in the short time he planned on staying. Still, he didn't know a lot of the traditions in the Abbey, so maybe this was something that they did every Name Day? Either way he was going to keep a close watch on these three. He let Rigby do the talking at the front of their little entourage, the mouse was always better at it than he was, and kept in step behind.

He let his mind wander as they walked; wishing that the line in front of him didn't include a fox, ferret, and stoat, but rather a traipsing patrol of river otters marching down the stream to catch either some dinner or sneaking vermin. His father, their Skipper, raising his strong voice to lead a jaunty tune about great battles and feasts. A pang of painful memory struck his chest and he slightly shook his head to rid himself of his own thoughts and return to the task at hand.

Despite the lapse, a smile crossed his face at the sight of Ellis and he gave the large Hedgehog a nod in return to the pat he received on the shoulder. He liked the old cellar hog, and many of the older beasts were privy to what it was that brought Zaris to the Abbey in the first place. He held all of the Abbey beasts in high regard, so the companionship was appreciated, and he always knew Ellis was good for a song or story and a bit of a drink. He watched the Hedgehog meander is way out of the Abbey and into Mossflower Woods proper before swiveling his head back towards Rigby at the mouse's call.

Being in the presence of vermin made him uncomfortable, made him want to pull his dual swords and rid the woods of more of the beasts, but within the Abbey walls he knew he couldn't. Still, he shuffled past and pulled open the door for Rigby; keeping it open until the three vermin passed through then returning to his step behind.

The smells of the kitchen were enticing and he let a bit of excitement build for the feast that was to come. A genuine light lit his eyes as the Friar called out to them. There weren't many otters in the woods around the Abbey, let alone inside the walls, so it was always a joy to meet up with Ruddy. The big otter reminded him a great deal of many of the others in his tribe, and nothing quite set the heart at ease like a familiar face.

He caught the chestnut as it was tossed towards him and gave a quick nod, "Aye, I can do that for ya. Brother Jethro should have the gate just fine. He kept it well before I joined 'im, so a moment more shouldn't be grayin' his fur." He tossed the chestnut into his mouth as he made his way to the cellar. He was happy to hand the vermin off to someone else to watch and he knew Ruddy wouldn't let them get away with anything. Ellis wouldn't be back yet as far as he was aware, but he figured someone would be in the cellar to ask about more hotroot. He didn't want to be wandering around for too long and no way old Ellis left it unattended.

The stones were cool on his paws and the sheer number of barrels, taps, and brews was always astounding to Zaris. Though with it being Name Day he couldn't say it was a surprise nor was he going to complain about the number of options. He caught sight of the second spiked head that spent most of their time in the cellar, "'Lo there Grant," he only knew Ellis' son in a passing manner but it was enough for him to feel comfortable asking, "Friar Ruddy is askin' for some more hotroot. You know if there's any more?"

[Lord Wraith]

B A N C R O F T

---

There was a certain tranquillity to Mossflower Woods at this time of year. The smell of fresh buds opening their petals for the first time as the bees hummed from flower to flower. Singing their little songs as they whizzed by overhead, the faintest of voices reaching the ears of the two mice and the large sea otter.

The journey to Redwall Abbey wasn’t necessarily a long one. In fact, by foot, Bancroft could likely have been at the East Gate before high noon had he left mid-morning. The wagon Banny currently occupied alongside his mother was necessitated by the supplies they came bearing. Behind the pair of mice laid several bags of freshly milled flour. They had been carefully placed in order to help secure a barrel that contained the last of the winter root vegetables. Abbot Munty, like most moles, had a soft spot for Deeper’n’Ever Turnip’n’Tater’Beetroot Pie. There was no doubt that Friar Ruddy would be thankful for the resupply after cooking for the Name Day Feast.

The road between the farm and the Abbey followed along the bed of the River Moss. The cool waters were running quickly this time of year, the tide flowing steadily westward. Trees that normally lined the riverbank had their roots submerged from the Moss’ overflow. It had been a long, snow-filled winter and all of that melting had to go somewhere.

Despite the warmth of the sun, there was a distinct chill in the air. The wind was blowing in from the East, coiling through the trees, whistling as it came and then gone again as silence came over the forest.

“Where are the birds?” Hoyt mused, looking skyward as Bancroft too was suddenly realizing the usual abundance of sparrows and robins that lived in the trees above were oddly absent from the forest backdrop.

Gripping his staff, Bancroft tilted his ears and listened. Standing up from the bench, he held his balance while Hoyt continued towards the Abbey. High above the treeline, slow, rhythmic flaps beat against the air. Suddenly a shape appeared which caused the young mouse to freeze. Never before had he seen a bird so large.

Easily bigger than a badger, the bird was covered in dark plumage broken up only by its pale talons and hooked beak. Hoyt began to break into a run, pulling the wagon off of the road and into the thick foliage of the forest.

Banny bent down at the knees, catching himself against the edge of the wagon and balancing with his staff while Hoyt came to a sudden stop. The trio paused, watching the bird go by overhead. It seemingly had no interest in the three of them.

“It’s on a direct path to the Abbey,” Banny muttered, eyeing the creature’s trajectory.

“You’d be right on that, mate.” Hoyt replied, turning back to look at the young mouse. “Lad, I hate to ask this of you, but you’ve got to run ahead. The Abbey’ll be alright if they can get everyone inside.”

Hopping down, Bancroft nodded solemnly.

“Wait!” Lonicera shouted, standing up in protest. “You can-”

“Mom,” Bancroft interjected, “I’m faster, I’ll stick to the treeline, stay out of sight.” The young mouse squeaked. “I promise, I’ll be waiting for you at the Abbey.”

“Go, and be safe.”

Bancroft nodded in response before running forward. Staff tucked under his arm, scarf billowing behind him. Tufts of dust and dead grass shot up behind him as the mouse ran as fast as he could. Weaving between bushes and trees, he almost didn’t have time to react when he came across a graying hedgehog. Skidding to a controlled stop, Bancroft regained his balance, nearly ignoring the elder hog before the familiar flaps echoed above.

“Stop!” Banny frantically squeaked at the other woodlander. “Stay in the trees!” He motioned skyward towards the black raptor circling above them. It was only now that Bancroft began to recognize Ellis, the Abbey’s Cellarhog.

“I need to warn the Abbey, that thing is headed straight for them.”

[Cyrania]

The chill was what she first noticed as she gathered her fill, hugging her tattered, threadbare dress closer. Only then did it strike her that the birds had stopped singing...

Marigold cursed. Were vermin near? She dropped her harvest then picked up and notched her bow, aiming it this way and that. No signs of vermin though...Maybe they were sneaking up on her! She scrambled up higher in the tree, still looking around as she went. They weren't going to get her. Never again! Only then did she spy the black shape overhead.

She paused, then got up on a branch and nocked her bow again. Was that a raptor, here? She'd always been warned about them, but never saw one before. Especially not in Mossflower...If it was on it's way to attack, where would she even-?

"Stop! Stay in the trees!"

At the sound, she jolted, loosening her arrow down towards where it'd come.

[Nemaisare]

Seeing Ellis had been a momentary jolt of surprise for him, both because it reminded him of his curiosity as to the possible continued existence of that wildberry and pear cordial and he’d not been expecting to see the old Cellarhog until feast time. He was rather serious about his craft, after all, and ensuring the drinks always satisfied. The friendly hedgehog seemed preoccupied, however, probably by the errand that had coaxed him from the cellars, so Rigby only gave him a grin before continuing towards their objective. He was less surprised by Zaris’ apparent preoccupation with his own thoughts, and their current company, and Rigby could hazard the guess that it was for a similar reason that the Abbott and Brother Jethro had been so cautious. So he didn’t try to include the otter in the conversation, such as it wasn’t really, anyway, and took the shortest route to the kitchens after ascertaining that Friar Ruddy was not in the Great Hall, and that most everyone else apparently was.

Too crowded by half. It would be much better to sneak through Cavern Hole. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure the other four were still with him, Rigby rather enjoyed the expressions on the three newcomers’ faces. It was a sight he’d seen many times before. It always made him prouder than it likely should have, given as he’d had absolutely no paw in building the impressive structure, but it was his home, and he certainly thought it was well worth a bit of awe. He happily explained the origins to them, and coaxed their names out along the way, though it didn’t take long for them to find Friar Ruddy.

He was exactly where Rigby’d thought he’d be, and all in a tizzy, too. The welcome they received was enthusiastic, to say the least, and it caught him somewhat flat-footed… He hadn’t… Or well, he had brought a few able-bodied volunteers, but he hadn’t been meaning to include himself among their number! Clearly taken by surprise, the young mouse blinked at the otter’s instructions before glancing around the wide area and back to the three strangers, all unsuspecting… Well, he had been taking it pretty easy all morning, and it wasn’t as though Brother Jethro or Zaris actually needed him at the gate. Friar Ruddy, however, looked like he’d lost several of his usual helpers to other chores. Besides which, he’d really only been waiting at the gate in the hopes of catching Bancroft’s arrival, but Bancroft would be bound for the kitchens with fresh stores anyhow, so staying here served much the same purpose.

And it would be more useful.

Decision made—more like foregone conclusion given into—Rigby led everyone to the broad sink, washing his own paws while he was at it. He was happy to help out, despite the initial baulking, but he still couldn’t help a wistful glance over his shoulder as Zaris wandered off, scoffing the treat he’d been handed with obvious relish and utterly ignoring the imploring stare at his back. Half of him wanted the otter’s company around a little longer, dour though it could be, now he was suddenly surrounded by the three taller, sturdier, potentially far more dangerous creatures he’d led here. The other half wanted to join in on the errand to see how Grant was doing, but he was mostly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a candied chestnut, too.

Abandoning that train of thought quickly in favour of shaking the wet off his paws before drying them and considering the chance to sneak a bite of something else for himself, Rigby handed the towel to the stoat next to him and surveyed the room.

“Right, Rawback, Scraggs, there’s your table where Ruddy’s just passed now. Looks like he’s got a mountain of carrots, turnips, and parsnips for you. Best of luck whittling that lot down before he adds the beets I can smell baking.” Pointing the table out, Rigby sent them on their way. They had their work cut out for them and he was sure they’d have sore paws by the end of it. “Try not to cut yourselves, or you’ll be physicked half to death on Nameday of all days. Sad fate, that’d be. Trust me though, the works’ worth it for the feast come’s out of it.”

Giving their sullen faces an encouraging grin, he waved the vixen after him to the table with a large bowl of shrimp on it, and several empty ones waiting to be filled. “As for me and you, Rubella, I guess we’ve been volunteered to avoid disappointing the otters. Don’t worry, this’s easy work.” Well, as easy as standing on your feet and dealing with finicky, somewhat delicate shrimp could get. He preferred it over chopping turnips, at any rate.

Once they were standing next to each other, the vixen watching him with a very direct, yellow stare, Rigby had to swallow the nerves trying to get to him. She was very big and rather toothy… But it wasn’t as though he hadn’t gotten used to being among the smallest in any group already. He just couldn’t help remembering several stories in which a fox's most fearsome traits had been happily embellished... They weren’t all that reassuring to have in his mind, just now, but they’d come asking for a meal and were willing, even if somewhat begrudging, to work for it, so there wasn’t any reason to be nervous, was there?

He hoped not.

After showing her the deft twist of paw that removed a shrimp’s head, and how easy it was to slide a claw between shell and flesh to peel it free along with the legs, Rigby pointed out the bowl for the shell and took up the paring knife himself to do some deveining, leaning his hip against the table for support as he did. Nobody was likely to notice the difference, but he figured he might as well, since there were two pairs of paws doing the work. It was a steady sort of process, easy to see the results piling up.

While he’d learned a good number of skills with a varying, and occasional utter lack, of actual skill, the kitchen was, luckily, one of his better areas, and he settled into the task readily once he’d made sure Rubella was confident on her end and that both Rawback and Scraggs were managing. Eventually, unconsciously filling in the quiet, he found himself humming the song the Dibbuns had been singing earlier. It was a tradition that always won smiles from every beast, audience and participants alike, and he had a few fond memories of the one Nameday he could remember when he’d been a Dibbun joining in the parade. He was looking forward to the evening, wasn’t he just.

[Fading Memory]

Zaris, Grant

Zaris descends down into the cellar, the stairs and their cool stone sensation accompanied by the warbling tenor of an amateur song...rememberer...Thingy...Thingummy...

"Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh...!
Tis Hotroot Aplenty,
Tis Cordial to share,
Tis beer to toast with,
'Neath this abbey so fair!

Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh...........!
How the ale flows!
How the wine sits!
How the fizz fizzes!
I could blow this abbey to bits!

For, Oh! Oh! Oh!
I'm aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Spiky 'Edge 'Og!

The Spiky 'Edge 'Og!
In charge of the grog!-"

Zaris finds himself encroaching upon the bulwark that is Grant; his bulk and frame fair remembrance of Ellis' own hulking physique, but softer and gentler in the subtle ways that a life within the abbey walls would give him. Where Ellis' frame was of muscle, or of once-was-muscle, Grant's was of the soft roundness of a happy, peaceful, life- and Zaris was one of the few creatures with perspective enough to distinguish the difference.

"A- I- Er- Zaris!" Grant chortles with laughter, rocking up from a chair as his spines flex and fall in a sudden anxious display. The mug in his hand seems forgotten, as the hedgehog stumbles a few steps. "Good to see you, friend-fellow- if Friar Ruddy wants more hotroot, 'e'll 'ave 'ore 'ot 'oot!"

The final half of his dialogue was between gulps of whatever brew inhabited his mug- which he finally seemed to remember as he topped it off. Positively blushing with embarassment, he set it aside with an awkward shuffle towards the table he'd been sitting at, before he swayed back to attention with Zaris.

"I mean. Ahem. Aye, there's more. Let me go and fetch it for you." Grant nodded soberly- at least, in a good passing attempt at soberly- and sauntered through the various stores of supplies kept down here as he grumbled their names and quantities to himself under his breath, having to stop every so often to reference a parchment and quill to verify something. After several moments he hiccups.

"Oh, right, the Hotroot." He mutters, placing the inventory back aside, before opening up a few crates and sniffing at their contents. "Hm...There's enough for the feast, but we'll be on the lower side of comfortable after the fact. You're a strong lad, you can carry this up."

And with that he hefts a box out of the crate, and sets it upon the table. He raps upon it twice with his knuckles, and taps his snout with a paw conspiratorially.

"Proper day for a celebration, eh?"

---

The Late Bancroft, Marigold the Slaughterer, Ellis The Unfortunately Present

Ellis's trundling gait and roaming memory were both halted at once, the whipsnare of life coiling him back to the present in the form of a mouse's warning cry;

"Stop!" Banny frantically squeaked at the other woodlander. "Stay in the trees!"

Ellis' eyes rose from distant memory, his heart discarded the weight of mortality that had temporarily gripped him, and in that moment as his spines flared to full alert he almost seemed young again- if not for the grey permeating through his fur. He whirled about, eyes cast skyward to follow Bancroft's paw-

But his attention latched onto something else, indeed.

As quickly as Bancroft had appeared, Ellis' arms embraced him and threw him aside into the cover of nearby bushes.

"Warn the Abbey- aye, tis a good plan, but let this be a lesson, young Bancroft, to always keep yer ken in the now." His words came smooth and gentle as his paw plucked the arrow from the ground where Bancroft had been standing. His eyes studied the shaft and the fletching as he carefully maneuvered to share the protected space with Banny, his spines lowering safely but still tense.

"Hold!" He called out into the trees. "Fair beasts we be! Shelter yourself from the skies, lest that raptor be less friendly than me!"

[Cyrania]

"How'd I know you're fair?!" Marigold cursed herself, then went to clamber higher into the trees. "Stay, stay back! If you're vermin, the next arrow won't miss!" Her heart thudded in her throat. What if they weren't vermin? Oh gosh, had she about killed some goodbeast? But if they were vermin...Though, did vermin even team up with raptors?

...The raptor! She stopped at the next branch and looked up into the sky as she realized she was a good deal nearer to that threat. She skittered back down and behind the tree from it, then readied her bow again. Trapped, she was trapped! Potential vermin below, a raptor above...Whichever tried to take her, she wouldn't go without a fight.

[Lord Wraith]

B A N C R O F T

---

No sooner than the warning had left Bancroft's mouth, the older hedgehog had taken ahold of him and tossed him aside. The mouse skidded across the ground, tumbling into the nearby brush. Scrambling back onto his hind paws, Bancroft quickly regained his bearings, a forepaw moving to the blade on his belt.

His ear was burning. Bancroft gingerly touched the source of the burning, his fur coming back stained with his own blood. Reaching his paw to his ear again, Bancroft felt a small nick, no doubt the source of the bleeding. Turning back towards where he had previously stood, Bancroft's eyes were drawn to the arrow occupying the space he had been standing before Ellis' timely intervention.

"Warn the Abbey- aye, tis a good plan, but let this be a lesson, young Bancroft, to always keep yer ken in the now." The Cellarhog spoke softly, plucking the arrow from the ground. Ellis' eyes studied the shaft before shifting his back towards Bancroft, obviously taking up a guard stance while looking towards the treeline.

"Hold! Fair beasts we be! Shelter yourself from the skies, lest that raptor be less friendly than me!" The hedgehog called out. His voice was authoritative and the volume increased though not to the point of yelling. Something Bancroft was grateful for as he cast his eyes back towards the massive black mass carving its way across the sky.

"Stay, stay back!" The voice of a young lass came in response to Ellis' call. "If you're vermin, the next arrow won't miss!"

"You fired without even seeing what we look like?" Bancroft exclaimed breaking his silence. "What manner of vermin even looks akin to a hedgehog?"

He took a step forward to make stride with Ellis. "Whomever that be in the tree, they have no interest in helping the abbey, perhaps we'd be best making haste and leaving them be," Bancroft stated, bending down to pick up his fallen staff.

Overhead the raptor started to circle the abbey. Bancroft could see the shadow cast by its long hooked beak. There was no doubt in his mind that the good beasts inside were in grave danger should any wander into the courtyard.

"I hope Rigby and Jethro are getting everyone inside," The mouse muttered before turning back to Ellis and their unknown assailant.

[Cyrania]

"A, A hedgehog?!" She frowned, looking closer. Then she notched her bow and arrows away, then started down the large tree. Her jumps were slow at first, until she finally saw them clearly There indeed, was a hedgehog. Along with a mouse with a nick in his ear. She swallowed. Was that her doing? "So I now see..." Then she started jumping quickly from branch to branch before she came to gracefully land beside them. "My apologies. I didn't realize any good beasts were even near here..." She looked back to the sky, towards the raptor going to that fortress that had long been in the distance. She'd thought it must have been some old ruin, but if they were worried about people over there..."Won't they know to hide in your, abbey?"

[PrankFox]

The sight, and sound, of the at least slightly sloshed Hedgehog that was the second guardian of the cellar caused Zaris to chortle as Grant tried to remember a song he presumed Ellis had sung at some point, or lar least had a hand in crafting. He reached out a paw as the large cellar hog stumbled towards him, just he case he need to prevent Grant from falling flat on his snout. Thankfully he seemed to have a pretty good handle on his own feet. It took a careful ear for him to decipher what it was that Grant told him in between swigs from his mug, but Zaris could at least assume that there'd be hotroot for the Friar.

He couldn't help just chuckle again as Grant attempted to sober up, and it was a passing act for anyone else. Not so great for an otter who'd grown up in a rambunctious tribe and could tell the difference between the slurring of ale versus beer. He didn't want Grant to feel embarrassed in front of him though. No doubt he'd end up doing something stupid himself before his time at the Abbey came to a close. "Nothin' wrong with samplin' a bit of the drink for the feast," he told Grant he waited for the hotroot to be brought to him. "Just make sure there's enough for the rest of us yeah."

The cellar was certainly packed full and he tapped his nails on the table in front of him as he waited for Grant to return. He could hear the muttering in the backroom, but he wasn't in any particular hurry aside from making sure the Friar had what he needed to make sure everything was ready in time.

"Aye, I'd like to think I can heft a fair amount," picked up the crate with ease and gave a nod. "I'd say so. My Skipper'd say that any day is a proper one for celebration though." His father had been one of the most guilty when it came to starting a party for any and all reasons. Though it seemed that the Abbey had a fair number of celebrations themselves. "I'll let Friar Ruddy know that the hotroot supply is runnin low'. I'll be seein' ya Grant."

It was a quicker walk back up to the kitchens and he set the hotroot down by the jovial Friar and did as he told Grant he would. He could see the vermin had been put to work, as had Rigby, but it still made him uncomfortable knowing they were within the walls of Redwall.

"I'd best be headin' back to Brother Jethro," he told Ruddy, "Come back to us when you're released Rigby," he called out to the mouse in a more teasing tone than usual. The thought of the feast had put him in a better mood despite himself. He waved a paw at the Friar before turning and heading back out the way he came to return to the gatehouse.

It was a short jaunt across the courtyard back to the gatehouse with the dibbuns marching about. He had just pushed open the door when a dark, looming shadow caught his eye in the sky above. Fear spiked in his veins as his head snapped up to see a raptor soar over the Abbey walls and begin to circle the courtyard. There was no way that it was unseen, "Brother Jethro! Sound an alarm!" He called through the door before letting it swing shut and pulling his sling free.

"Sister, get inside!" He didn't want to panic the dibbuns and send them scattering across the courtyard, but he trusted their guardian to herd them to safety. He plucked several rocks from his pouch and set one into the sling. the raptor had yet to dive, but if it did he would be ready.

[Fading Memory]

"Worry not." Ellis began to Bancroft. "Honesty and goodness tends to come out in folk, don't hold it against somebeast to be afraid." His words were soothing and quiet, and he spared a moment to look over Rigby's nicked ear. He clicked his tongue once, before letting out a low chortling laugh from deep within his chest.

"Aye, that little scratch'll do you good I be 'spectin'. Every lad gets scratched and bruised; few get to claim a genuine battle scar, eh Bancroft?" He was jovial as ever, even as his spines finally fell flat from the initial surprise. Swiftly enough, Marigold's deft leaps and graceful descent from the treetops warranted his attention- though only half of it. The other half was lost to the depths of memory.

"Iffen Tybalt were here, and could see mind you, he'd swear the ghost of Juniper just shot at us." He whispered, softly- so softly, it was clearly meant for himself.

But then Marigold is at their side, and Ellis swivels his head upwards and his gaze once again into the now.

"Jethro has good sense, he'll keep things as safe as can be. Rigby's a good lad, and Zaris is a little too keen on seeing danger in the shadows- the Abbey is in good hands, but we do be on the wrong side of 'er walls. We should be able to make the Gatehouse if we keep to the walls; such a creature as that shan't be risking limb to attack against their sides, methinks. Especially not if we have a sharp-eyed archer and a fierce mouse warrior amongst us!" He nods to Marigold, then to Bancroft, as if addressing equals.

"Keep that staff on hand, but do not be tense- keep your wits about you. A warrior with staff but no mind is a warrior disarmed. That goes for you as well, friend; skill with the bow but no sense of the self just leads to bleeding ears! I am Ellis of the Tap, Cellarhog of Redwall Abbey, to get introductions out of the way. Let us make haste, 'fore we're stuck hiding in the shrubbery! Tis Nameday, not a day for sniffing in the dirt!"

And just as quickly as Marigold appeared, Ellis was trundling off alongside the cover of the trees, moving in a lumbering but quiet gait.

[Nemaisare]

“Ha! Sure, I’ll follow with a treat of my own and enjoy it right in front of you two. Won’t share a crumb!” Rigby shouted after Zaris as the otter bid them farewell to return to his post. He was mostly jesting, but if he worked to earn a little snack, then he definitely wasn’t sharing it with anyone. Well, not unless they asked really, really nicely…

Honestly though, the work was a pleasant break from not working. Mostly because it was simple, and he felt useful. He would have been more disgruntled if Friar Ruddy had put him on chopping duty too, which the jocular chef may have been aware of. Cutting things wasn’t hard, they kept the knives sharp in the abbey kitchens, but doing it for any length of time was a tedious chore. And the thunk of the knife was annoying… He could hear two now behind him, both being inexpertly wielded against tough vegetables. Too much effort by half, if you asked him. No, he’d go for peeling shrimp any day over dicing turnips. That being said, however…

“I’m going to be dreaming of shrimp for days by the end of- Huh?” Both fox and mouse jumped as a voluminous shout rose behind them, and both wheeled to find a rather odd sight. There was Scraggs, by no means a small ferret, no, nor one who looked disarming, no matter how hard he’d tried earlier at the gate. And berating him with the very knife he’d been using was a small, spiky-furred shrew marm. Rawback’s sniggers at his companion’s plight were cut short when she turned both knife and temper on him. The poor beasts looked so put-upon confused that Rigby was struggling hard not to burst out laughing as he exchanged a glance with Rubella. She wasn’t trying at all, her own amusement clear to see as they turned back to their task. From the one-sided conversation, it was clear they were being lectured on proper knife handling safety. Rigby figured it was better if he didn’t butt in. He’d received a similar lecture, though with slightly less fervent zeal, when he’d first started learning as well. It was useful information, even if it was delivered in a no-nonsense manner and with a horrifyingly dazzling display of blade skills that… didn’t really belong in a kitchen.

He coughed to cover his giggle as Rubella elbowed him and snickered.

And for a brief moment, things continued in a mostly peaceful manner, mild background harangue not-withstanding, and festival chaos taken in stride… It was just another day at the Abbey.

Being in the kitchen where it was already noisy meant no one heard the distant shouts raised upon Zaris’ initial warning. The Friar did send someone out to see what the fuss was about when they caught a few raised voices in the Great Hall, but it wasn’t until the bells started ringing that everything fell still and all the Abbeybeasts froze to listen to the slow but unsteady rhythm of Matthias and Methuselah that signalled alarm rather than celebration. No one liked the sound of that. No one had been expecting it either. But, just in time, the young mouse who’d gone to find out the source of the fuss came back shouting. “It’s a hawk! A hawk or something bigger! Circling the Abbey, Friar. We’ve got to get everybeast inside! There’s some been caught under the tables and no way to the doors. We need more able paws!”

Well, with that news delivered, she turned right around to go back to help herself, and everyone else hurried to follow, or to check on their family members. Rigby spared a moment’s thought and then heaved a sigh of relief when he recalled that his mother and grandmother should be in the Great Hall going through the linens and his father knew better than to stay in the open with a hawk about. They’d told him often enough about their adventures, warning him on what to do. And now they all knew about it, so they should all be safe. And at least it didn’t sound like anyone had been taken, but…

Rigby stayed out of the crowd, knowing so many rushing paws would only trip him up or be tripped up if he joined in. But he did put the paring knife down and was staring worriedly after them all, concerned enough for everyone who’d been outside enjoying the gorgeous spring weather that it took him a moment to realise he was the only one left. Well, him and Rubella, Scraggs, and Rawback. They obviously didn’t have anyone they were instantly worried about, nor any idea how to help, probably. That, or they saw no need to. Rigby supposed it didn’t really matter, but since it was only them now, and no clear idea how the festivities might be affected, nor how long it might take everyone to come back, he sighed and shook his head. “Well, never mind your work for now. I know you three are hungry, so let’s take a break before we get back to it. Here’s some scones to tide you over.”

He felt a bit bad that they’d come asking for food and had then been forced to stare at food without being able to eat any of it, and now they might well be eating even later. So better to let them have a snack now, keep their energy up and all, and then they could finish their work. He stole a scone for himself as he went past the ovens, sniffing the air as carefully as he could to test the readiness of anything in them, though it was honestly hard to tell, and stirring the soup in the big cauldron as well as he was able before he gave in to his own worries. He knew he wouldn’t be much help even if he went. In fact, he’d probably be more helpful if he stayed here and kept an eye on things and made sure nothing started burning or anything, but… well, but. He didn’t want to stay and be useful not knowing if everyone was safe or if there really wasn’t anything he might do to help the others.

“Well, feel free to rest your paws for the moment, though if you could give that pot a stir now and again, and pull out anything from the ovens if you start to smell burning… Really appreciate it. Bit of a sorry welcome, right? Uhh, should be a beaker or two of something to drink on that shelf over there…” He was already at the door before he’d finished speaking, and he balanced there with a fidgety sort of hop as he tried to cover all the bases, too impatient to settle properly. When his brain wouldn’t tell him what it was that he was sure he was forgetting, he gave up, waved a crutch vaguely towards the corner where he knew the Friar kept refreshment for his helpers, and then started after everyone in his own delayed rush. Zaris had been heading for the Gatehouse, so he was outside and not near any tables, and Brother Jethro might have been on the wall again, which had to be even worse! Abbot Murty may have still been with him, too. Grant’s father had been outside, as well, and there were several Nameday regulars from the surrounding woodlands who hadn’t shown up yet, and Bancroft… what about him and his family? Did they know about the bird? He hoped anyone who heard the bells would know to tuck in out of sight somewhere safe.

[Lord Wraith]

E L S E W H E R E:

---

The waves broke over the bow as the trireme scouted along the coastline. The sun overhead was beating down heavily upon the crew above deck, while those manning the three tiers of oars stayed cool below, albeit showered by the mist of the waves breaking against the oar holes. Gulls circled above, suspiciously eying the foreign craft. It was unlike the pirate galleons or merchant schooners usually seen off the coast of Mossflower Woods.

Atop the bow stood a towering figure. Plumed ears were swept back by the sea breeze as the feline figure lifted his powerful jaw towards the sun. The light glistened off the two pointed teeth peeking out from under the upper half of his muzzle. A spear was gripped firmly in his left claw, a brilliant cerulean banner flying defiantly against the wind and waves.

The Prince's eyes searched the horizon for Cinereous. The vulture was his eyes, ears and most importantly his herald. The raptor had departed from the vessel some time ago. The tales of Mossflower and its Redwall Abbey had reached even the shore of Yurazea. Amidst the war, famine and sickness, the shores of Mossflower Woods sounded like an enticing paradise. A paradise that the Prince hoped to claim as the seat to his new empire.

But first, he'd need a legendary weapon, one worthy of an Emperor Apparent. The legends said that the abbey held one such weapon, one forged by a Badger Lord from a fallen star. Soon, Cinereous would return with said blade grasped between his talons and then, the Yurazen Prince would march on Mossflower Woods.

B A N C R O F T

---

With his staff held high, Bancroft moved swiftly and quietly behind the Cellar Hog. The older good beast was surprisingly spry given his seasons and Bancroft found himself having difficulty matching both the speed and complete silence that Ellis maintained. Keeping an eye on the sky, the mouse let out a small squeak of surprise as the giant raptor landed atop the Abbey's main gate.

Dust and stone crumbled to the ground, loosed by the razor-sharp talons gripping the rampart. Clearing his throat, the raptor called out to the Abbey Grounds below.

"Creatures of Redwall Abbey, fear not!" He cawed, "For a bring glad tidings and news of salvation! It comes in the form of your new Lord, from across the Eastern Sea and with an army of Yurazea's strongest, my Liege seeks only one small token of gratitude from your humble order." The raptor turned its head, cocking an eye towards the grounds as it searched to see if it had any sort of audience. His hooked beak casting a long crescent shadow across the grass.

"Legends of your Abbey have traveled far and wide and it has reached our ears you have a great treasure. A sword, forged in the darkest of nights of the brightest star. Turn this weapon over to me, and not only will my Master spare your lives, but you'll live and prosper. Wealth beyond your wildest dreams."

The vulture hopped across the rampart, entering further into the abbey.

"All I seek is the blade, hand it over and you may resume your festivities without fear."

[Cyrania]

Marigold huffed, standing near Bancroft who'd she'd run beside. "As if any vermin lord would honor that..." She muttered under her breath.

Surely these Abby folk wouldn't be gullible enough to fall for this ruse. Vermin 'lieges' never kept their word. And to give up that sword...Mother told her those stories before, though she could barely recollect them now. But the sword of Redwall, that always triumphed over any foe that fought against the abbey. If they just gave up that, how could they defend themselves?

Covertly, she crouched down, then rested an arrow into her bow and waited. When the time was right, she'd be ready.

[Fading Memory]

Falling still at his companion's sides with their own discretion, Ellis shut his eyes and let out a soft breath as the raptor cried out its exaltations from the Abbey Gate. The words travel'd the air and, to the elder hog's perception, seemed to fill him from the tips of his paws to the farthest reaches of his spines. Unbidden to his senses, his spikes rose slowly as the raptor spoke- the threat of its words working their predatory call into the very instincts of Ellis of the Tap and overriding his bodily control.

"...We must be taking an unproven beast at their word." He said quietly, in response to Marigold. "Don't be looking for lies when the rest is plain scary 'nuff. Stay still, stay quiet, young cousins, but keep your eyes and wits- we must try to give time for others to scurry away and seek refuge 'afore we can properly bargain with this beast."

He opened his eyes, his spines settling, before he rose from their hiding spot and set himself upon the road striding towards the Gate with a lumbering, oafish, gait. His voice cried out, rising high and strong;

"Hark, listener, to these words!
They carry within them a warning of old
A warning, dear listener, of a dibbun so bold!
This youth, this youth, oh this blessed youth!
Nary a thought nor caution was felt
Nary a grown'un nor mother was behel't

This little one was reckless, tis true!
This little one was a fool, too!
He feared not a bruise nor scratch-
But the rumble of the stomach was too much for the lad!
If ye learn anythin' from this tune, let it be
'do not be bad!'"

His song carried high into the air, his deep baritone rumbling through the air as the large hedgehog approached the Gate brazenly, heaving against it and casting it open before him. Solidifying his message to any goodbeast within earshot, for all of the abbey were familiar with his songs and tales, he skipped stanza and shifted to a separate part of the tune. To the raptor he was just a hedgehog who may have had too much to sip- to those who may be in the area, he was calling upon memory and learning of danger and warning;

"They ran, they swam, they bounded, they leapt
The great Rat's nose sniffing as they went!
Soon the great Abbey walls rose in their eyes-
But the vile rat soon would have them as his prize
If not for the walls! Oh Redwall, Oh Redwall!
The Walls of Redwall and its great tower Bell!

The Rat leapt from hiding, scooped them young'uns up!
But right as he did, the bell was struck!
The spirit of Martin rushed to their aid!
The Warrior of Redwall always saves the day!
While battle was set, the Dibbuns made their haste!
For within the walls of Redwall, there was dinner to taste!"

The message was clear; listen to the elder beasts, seek safety, danger was afoot.

Ellis swayed forward, remaining in the shelter of the gate itself, and cast a paw over his eyes as if the sun was a bother.

"--Eh? What...Whatzallthisthen? Fear? Summa...some-kind of greatbeast? Ho! Ye be in the right place then, friend!" He called up to the air, attempting to draw the raptor's attention to himself. "Redwall Abbey welcomes all beasts! Harken, new friend, harken to me- tell this humblybeast more of this..this...this prince fella!" He laughed so loud and boisterous that he almost seemed as if he was to fall over upon himself. "I think I'd like to shake 'is paw, sounds like a proper generous lad!"