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VII

The Beast without a Heart

Days had passed, but he finally found it. As shady as the prickly beast was, Log-a-Log's information was accurate. Just beyond the cliffs and sitting out on the beaches was the incomplete fortress. It didn't look very big from where he sat, but Urthquake knew that the fortress would be quite large by the time he and the Long Patrol got close to it. From what he could tell, the structure was composed of mostly stone, and possibly mortar and timber. He imagined that there was a gate composed of metal bars to keep intruders out, and the slaves in. Two cylindrical towers were positioned on the left and right corners of the front of the structure--they must be the guard towers. Fortunately, Urthquake could see from the edge of the cliff that the right tower wasn't even finished yet. He scratched his chin as he plotted and pondered, wondering how he and his soldiers should infiltrate the place. Stealth would probably be best, but if any of his hares got caught, they'd end up becoming hostages or slaves themselves. Urthquake just spent five days hauling his troops through the woods and he was just now yielding results. No point in waiting any longer. Those slaves needed to be rescued as soon as possible, and Blackheart needed to be sent to Hellgates.

The sun was setting. The waves were crashing into the sandy coast. Various seabirds were hovering around the fortress and certain cliffs--crows most likely, waiting to prey on any dead beasts they found. Urthquake could feel sweat running down his massive head and seeping into his armor. The scent of the sea was in the air, as opposed to the odor of the dead or of vermin. Urthquake almost smiled, reminiscing about how hot last spring was, and how much fun he had as he bonded with his long-eared comrades in the heat. But he wasn't the same beast anymore. He found it so much harder to smile when fortresses like the one in front of him existed. How could he possibly smile when he was safe outside, basking in the sun, breathing fresh air, and all those other beasts were locked away and being tortured to death? His life was so much easier compared to theirs. Why should he smile when all those poor beasts couldn't? Urthquake tightened his jaw and grinded his teeth together quietly. He growled as he stared at the fortress and forced himself not to enter the Bloodwrath. Not now, he told himself. You'll get your chance tomorrow.

Urthquake heard loud panting and blinked. Then he smelled something foul in the air and immediately grabbed the giant axe he had resting beside him. The blue-striped badger turned around and calmed down. It was only his gallopers, one of whom hadn't bathed in over a season.

"Och, ah...ah must say, this cliff be quite the strain on mah legs, sah, wot!" said Lakler.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Urthquake, somewhat matter-of-factly.

Elonv was sweating more than Urthquake was, and he was wearing light clothing. The panting hare took a few deep breaths before he exhaled deeply and rubbed some of the sweat from his eyes.

"We...we couldn't learn much, m'lord. Jus'...only got ta scan the fortress is all."

Urthquake couldn't keep staring at the beautiful sunset and the fortress in the distance. He stood up and started to walk along the rocky pathway on the cliff that led back to the location his hares were currently stationed at.

"You three must've learned something. Is there any information we can use?"

A comely, yet sullen-faced dark brown hare named Floswirth blinked and nodded her head. "Yes. We managed to get a look at the gate; it's made of wood, not metal. We're not sure how thick it is, but we may be able to break it down."

"What else?"

"There be only two guard towers, an' ah'm more'n sure that the rear wall don't 'ave guid fortifications 'n' wotnot!" said Lakler.

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cos they ain't got one of their guard towers finished yet, wot!" said Elonv. "The beasts seem t'be slackin', m'lord! 'Twas real easy to sneak by 'em all; some of the guards were drunk, an' others were too busy lookin' for slaves!"

"How many guards did you see?"

Floswirth shrugged. "I'd say about twenty. But they must've been out on patrol; I'm sure all the guards will be sleeping tonight once it's dark. It'll be perfect, sir. We infiltrate the fortress, slay some of the guards inside--"

"Stop," Urthquake interrupted.

The four beasts stopped walking. The gallopers stood in front of the badger as they looked up at the tall beast's sweaty face.

"Sumthin' wrong, sah?" asked Lakler.

"So just to be clear, all you know is that one of the watch towers isn't finished. There's at least a score of guards out on patrol during the day, but you don't know how many are on patrol at night. One of the fortress walls might not be finished, and the gate's made of wood. I got all that right?"

Elonv huffed and wiped some more sweat from his face. "The guards' patrols were random, m'lord. We spent more time tryin' not to get caught as opposed to observin' the fortress, wot!"

The giant badger started to pace back and forth as he ran a paw through the fur on the top of his head. "How are we supposed to attack this fortress tonight if we don't know the conditions inside? If all those slaves are in the main compound, the vermin can easily take hostages! We'll end up slaying more slaves than rescuing them!"

Lakler laughed heartily to himself as he stuck a paw down his trousers and started to dig inside his bum. "Ah got a great idea, sah!"

Elonv and Floswirth glanced at Lakler and started to scowl. They watched as the dirty hare grunted and scratched himself as he kept picking at his tailhole. Then he grunted and pulled out something that had been clinging to his bottom for two days now and flicked it away. He opened his mouth and licked his paw clean (by Lakler's definition of "clean," that is) before looking back at the badger and gallopers.

"Does it involve that vile paw of yours?" asked Floswirth.

Lakler grinned. "Not at all, Flossy! C'mon, Urthquake, ye should know how these vermin work, bein' a Northlander an' all! Yah wanna know wot's gonna 'appen tonight? Hehe, them vermin are gonna spend all night drinkin' an' fuckin' 'til their cocks turn red, wot! An' in the mornin', they'll be so tired an' sore all over that they won't be able tae prop'ly defend themselves when we attack!"

Urthquake stopped walking around and stared at the filthy hare. He pondered for only a couple of seconds before nodding slowly. It made so much sense now that he thought about it. Blackheart and his vermin would be tired at dawn--a lot of them would probably be sleeping, underdressed, and suffering from headaches from drinking so much grog and other intoxicating beverages. Nothing was better than striking at the enemy at dawn and giving them a rude and fatal awakening.

"Yes...yes, that's a great plan. It's better even; now we can find out more about Blackheart's fortress tonight."

"How?" asked Elonv.

"Easy. I'll send three more hares out tonight, when most of Blackheart's crew is inside the fortress probably sleeping or drinking. They can sneak into the fortress, gather more information, then come back here and relay it all to me. That way we'll know what to expect tomorrow and where to attack."

Elonv stretched out his arms as he yawned. "Not t'mention we can rest up 'afore we strike. Can't win a fight if yore troops are too exhausted t'move their legs, wot!"

"Sleeping would give us a tactical advantage," Floswirth added.

"Fair enough. We'll sleep in shifts from here on out. Since you three have done the most work today, I'll let you take the second one," said Urthquake.

Lakler scratched his right ear. "Err, shouldnae we be sleepin' first, sah?"

"Of course not. The sun is still out. And the last thing I need is you three trying to nap while it's so hot out here. By the time the second shift starts, it'll be nighttime and much cooler. Unless you three want to sleep right now."

Elonv and Lakler suddenly perked up and seemed to forget how much they were sweating. "Hehe, us? Tired? Pah! Couldn't fall asleep if I tried, wot! I'm so lively I could scale these whole cliffs without pausin' to take a breath!"

"I suggest you stop talkin' before Urthquake sends us back to the fortress again," warned Floswirth.

---

The fortress almost seemed hidden on the beach. Nobeast would even know it was there if it hadn't been for the torches in the guard towers. The moon only provided brief light that night, some of which shined on the water and illuminated Blackheart's domain even more. It looked like an ordinary fortress: four massive walls composed primarily of dark gray stone, two cylindrical guard towers positioned on the bottom corners of the structure, with a large wooden gate in-between the towers. The slaves inside the area were being forced to build a curtain wall and various heavy weapons such as ballistas and trebuchets so Blackheart's army could fend off invading forces when necessary. The slaves, suffering from malnutrition and constant torture, weren't living up to the demented ferret's standards, and were getting whipped, raped, or even killed for it. But Blackheart didn't care. After all, if he was running low on slaves, he could send his weasels, foxes, rats, and ferrets out to fetch more. There were thousands upon thousands of beasts out there just waiting to enter his "glorious" fortress so they could "assist" him with his reign of tyranny. And he had the finest, most bloodthirsty vermin under his command to ensure that everything went according to plan.

Such as the two weasels resting at the top of the left guard tower. One of them was tall and slender, lying down with his sword a few inches away from his right paw. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly as he slept. The other weasel, who was around the same height but sported a thicker body, was lying on top of the other weasel, snoring loudly with his mouth wide open and his tongue hanging out. The weasel lying beneath him wasn't even aware that dried drool was all over his head, or that his mate's tongue was resting on his ear. He twitched in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes upon hearing a disturbing guttural noise in his dream. And then he realized that his heavier mate was still lying on top of him. The weasel grumbled and jerked his body upwards, causing the heavier weasel to roll off of him. The heavier weasel snorted twice and started to wake up.

"Wuh...wot? Sumthin' wrong, Bannak?"

The weasel with drool all over his head groaned as he slowly stood up and staggered. He was still a bit intoxicated from all the grog he shared with his mate, and he was having trouble seeing and standing straight.

"Get up...we's still on duty," he said drowsily.

"Ain't nobeast gun' come here, Bannak...only thing we gotta worry 'bout is them fuckin' toads."

"So get up an' watch fer fuckin' toads, Cojin!"

Cojin exhaled as he rolled over onto his stomach and reached forward, grabbing his red kilt. He slowly stood up and struggled as he put it on, while Bannak simply threw on his red tunic and grumbled as he walked towards the edge of the tower and picked up a torch. The weasel glanced over the edge of the structure and looked down at the sandy beach, but saw nothing. Cojin sniffed and wiped drool from his mouth as he stumbled beside Bannak.

"Yew see anythin'?"

"Sand...some sand...more fuckin' sand..."

"Oh...I'm gonna git more grog. Wot kind yew want?"

"Fish head," said Bannak drowsily.

Cojin nodded before he walked over to the ladder on the side of the tower and climbed down, shouting as he fell off when he was almost on the wall walk. Bannak just shook his head and grumbled as he continued to observe the barren beaches. If he had been awake five minutes ago, he might've noticed three long-eared figures stealthily running along the ground, using the darkness to conceal their bodies. Sergeant Honward was sprinting alongside the two runners; the three hares wore dark clothing as opposed to their standard brightly colored uniforms. They also only carried daggers and slings with them instead of their regular swords or sabres. All the hares sprinted right for the wall and pressed their backs against it. Honward looked left and right and saw the two runners breathing quietly, while he was panting.

"Good. Nobeast has seen us yet," whispered Hon. "Now comes the fun part: you two are still skilled at climbin', yeah?"

One of the runners nodded. "Aye. Jenner and I loved scalin' mountains when we were leverets."

"Okay...I'll go first. You two follow closely, and try not to fall in the water; we don't want to make too much noise."

The two runners nodded. Afterwards, Honward walked along the beach and headed for the water. He looked down at the ground and could see that the fortress was built on a short stretch of land that was several feet above the waves. Honward lifted his paws and felt all around the foundation until he found a loose stone. The hare removed the stone block with ease before he stuck his paw into the gap in the wall. Honward moved his other paw around the wall and removed another block so he could stick both paws inside. Then he grunted and jumped up, his legs dangling in mid-air. Hon grunted as he stuck his toes against the wall, looking for a proper foothold. Fortunately, the walls were filled with cracks, and various stone blocks were missing or had fallen out during the fortress's construction. Honward managed to place his toes into two footholds he discovered and exhaled with relief. The hare edged his right paw towards the right and felt another small gap in the wall to stick his paw into. Honward gestured for the two runners to follow him, and they did.

It was much easier than they thought. Whenever the hares couldn't move left or right, they would move up or down, scaling the large wall anyway they could. The sound of the waves crashing into the ground covered up any grunts the hares made, or the sound of crushed stone falling onto the ground or into the sea whenever a hare slipped. Honward kept moving to the right until he reached the corner of the wall. The sergeant grunted as he felt around the corner and grabbed onto a ledge. Moving slowly, he slid around and was clinging onto the lower section of the rear wall. He waited for the runners to join him; he didn't want to leave either of them if they accidentally fell. Honward looked down and could see massive rocks protruding from beneath the waves, looking like ghastly stalagmites. From where he was, Honward would easily break his legs if he fell, and anybeast would surely die if they plunged from the wall walk above. Honward looked up at the wall and exhaled. The gallopers were right; the rear wall wasn't finished. The slaves started to work on it, but various merlons were missing from the battlement, and there were holes in the wall that Honward could literally see through.

The sergeant felt somebeast tugging on his left footpaw and looked down. Jenner and the other runner, Menner, were just below him. Honward gestured for the runners to follow him again as he began to climb up. There was no need to search for any footholds; there were so many holes and dents in the wall that all three hares found them naturally. So the long-eared creatures grunted as they slowly scaled the wall. And then they froze when they heard somebeast walking nearby.

"I said fer you to watch 'em! Blackheart'll skin you alive if another one of them slaves tries to escape!"

The hares heard somebeast yell at the creature on the wall walk, but they couldn't make out what he said. The creature, a lanky weasel with revolting facial burns, walked over to the edge of the wall missing the merlons and growled. He looked down at the waves and the jagged rocks positioned near the fortress and blinked. Then he grabbed his penis and sighed heavily as he began to urinate off the side of the wall. The hares could see the weasel's fluids gushing out of his groin; thankfully, none of them were in its path. Had the weasel been more alert and less concerned about emptying his bladder, he might've spotted the hares pressing their bodies against the wall. But once the weasel finished, he exhaled and walked over to the guard sleeping with his back pressed against a half-finished merlon. The weasel snatched the bottle of grog lying at the guard's side and snorted as he walked away, quaffing the fiery fluids. The hares waited for another minute just to be sure, and then they slowly climbed up onto the wall walk. Breathing heavily, Honward saw the guard snoring as he sat down against the merlon with empty grog bottles at his side.

The sergeant didn't take the risk of the guard waking up. He removed the dagger from his black belt and crept over to the snoring searat. He covered the rodent's mouth with his left paw and stabbed him in the throat multiple times with his right paw. By the time the rat woke up and realized he was being stabbed, Honward was already shoving his body over the wall. The hare didn't even see where the body fell--which was good, since the guards wouldn't discover it either. At worst, they'd just assume he got so drunk he tumbled over the wall. Hon wiped the blood off his weapon before he stuck it back into his belt.

"We're not here to save anybeast. We're not here to slay Blackheart in his sleep. We explore the fortress for a li'l while, we find out more about their defenses, and then we leave," whispered Hon.

The two runners nodded. "Gotcha. Should we split up?" asked Jenner.

"No. Last thing we need is to get picked off one at a time if we get caught. Don't kill anybeast unless you absolutely have to. Can't have 'em gettin' spooked before we attack tomorrow."

Menner walked over to the edge of the wall and looked down into the courtyard. The hare rumbled as he wagged his tail. "Doesn't seem like that'll be a problem. Look."

The other two hares stood beside Menner as he looked down into the bailey. Some of the vermin were sleeping or drinking more wine than necessary, while other beasts were still wide awake and tormenting the slaves below. The courtyard was massive area covered with sand and wet stone. To the left were the guard towers and the large wooden gate, which was actually smaller than it looked. To the right was the massive longhouse that looked like it could've housed at least half the slaves in the courtyard. But the hares knew just by looking at the smooth, pristine wood and stone that it was Blackheart's personal home. He probably didn't even let his own soldiers sleep in there. There were no other houses or buildings to store the slaves in, only a gate that led to the tunnels built beneath the stronghold. Palisades were built around groups of slaves, the barriers composed of strong timber and sturdy doors. All the palisades' doors were guarded by some type of vermin: a searat with a plump belly and no ears, a fox wearing a spotted gray bandanna, two weasel brothers with pale blue eyes; the list went on and on.

The hares weren't surprised at the condition of the slaves. All of them were clad in tattered tunics ranging from gray, black, or dark yellow. The slaves who had the luxury of sleeping were locked away within compounds made up of the palisades. All of them were chained together by one of their footpaws, so no one slave could move without taking another slave with them. Even then, sometimes the guards would walk into the compounds and watch the slaves as they slept. The slaves who were awake were also chained together; the slave captain would punish any of the slaves whenever they didn't move in unison and caused the team of slaves to fall over. Building walls, constructing weapons, entertaining the guards, offering their bodies to anybeast who needed to release their erotic urges; it didn't matter. They had to do whatever Blackheart and his crew wanted or suffer the consequences. But the hares could already see that they were suffering. Most of the slaves looked thin, bruised, and heavily scarred. A lot of them smelled just as bad as the vermin; the only "bath" they could take was having the rain wash their stink away. None of this was helped by the fact that some of the vermin let the slaves soil or wet themselves because they refused to let them release their waste properly.

The hares crept along the wall walk and saw four compounds made up of palisades. Much to their horror, they saw a compound that was mostly filled with young beasts and babes, some of whom looked as damaged as the fully grown beasts. The gate that led all the way down to the tunnels wasn't far from the longhouse. There was no way for the hares to enter them without getting spotted; they had to stick to the walls and shadows until they discovered everything they needed to find. The long-eared beasts were moving along the walls when Jenner swore and gestured for Hon and Menner to hang from the wall over the rocks. The weasel with a burned face came back around again, still drinking the grog in his paws. He noticed that the searat Hon stabbed earlier wasn't there anymore, but the weasel paid no attention. He just shrugged before climbing back down into the bailey. The hares climbed back onto the wall walk and crept along the stone path, observing the commotion going on near two of the compounds.

"And here I thought you twats would never get it finished!" said one ferret.

There was a gray rat standing next to the ferret, a well-fed, rugged creature with earrings and tattoos all over his body. He was holding a thick whip in one paw and a serrated knife in the other. The ferret had his fur dyed different shades of black. His tunic, shorts and cape were all shades of green that were almost as dark as his dyed fur. Like the rat beside him, he wasn't stout, but he definitely looked healthier and thicker than the slaves and vermin around him. The tall, narcissistic vermin touched the crude device he was standing beside and growled. A nasty smile revealed all the sharp yellow teeth in his mouth. Hon and the two runners were focusing more on the device beside the ferret, and the naked mouse whose head was placed beneath it. The mouse's paws were locked onto the table below the device, his jaw was planted on a thick metal plate, and there was a metal head cap sitting right on his skull. The mouse whimpered as he wagged his tail and tried to speak.

"Please...I didn't--"

The ferret ignored him as he snickered and playfully pitched his nose. Then he walked towards the compounds so he could address the slaves who were still awake.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you: anybeast who steals from the glorious and splendid Lord Blackheart will be put under the head crusher! Hehehe, oh, I've just been dyin' to try out this magnificent contraption! And I have all of ye to thank for buildin' it for me!"

The black ferret walked over to the head crusher and laughed again as he grabbed the handle on the top of the crude device and looked down at the slave. The mouse was shaking and whimpering as he thrashed his legs about, but it was useless.

"Stick your tongue out. And keep it out," commanded Blackheart.

It wasn't until after the mouse did as he was told that he immediately regretted it. Blackheart started to twist the handle, and the mouse began to scream. Or he tried to, anyway, but he couldn't. As Blackheart twisted the handle, the head cap moved down, compressing the skull. Tears began to come out the mouse's eyes as the bones in his head popped and crackled. At first he felt nothing, but after each pop, the pain slowly began to creep in. He couldn't open his mouth, and his teeth continued to bite down on the tongue, further and further, until it bled profusely. Some of the slaves started whimpering and crying, turning away from the grisly scene so they couldn't see the mouse's demise. Blackheart jerked the handle around with a loud grunt, and then heard a disgusting squish below. The mouse just bit off his tongue. He started to release muffled, hysterical screams as blood seeped in-between his teeth, running down his bottom lip and chin. The severed tongue landed on the table, the organ still fresh. Blackheart started to laugh with joy, even stopping so he could observe his handy work. One of the slaves turned away and started to vomit all over the wall he stood next to.

"Did yer Lord tell yew to turn away?!"

The gruff rat standing beside Blackheart walked over to three slaves and started to mercilessly whip them for not looking at the mouse. All the chained up slaves shook and shouted as the rat tore through the slaves' clothing and skin with his mighty whip, leaving scars that exposed their flesh.

"NOW LOOK!"

The whimpering, sniffling slaves slowly turned back around and watched as Blackheart continued. The mouse's eyes were bulging outwards as the cap kept tightening. The jaw was cracking, the cheek bones were in multiple pieces, and the teeth were cracking very slowly. Then there was a disturbing series of cracks, and the mouse's teeth seemed to explode. They all burst into dozens of pieces; some went down the mouse's throat, others were driven into his gums, and the rest flew out onto the wooden structure. Blackheart stopped again as he laughed and looked at all the shattered teeth on the table.

"By all means, speak up slaves! Which one of you stole a dagger from the armory?! Anybeast who confesses won't suffer the same fate as this mouse here! I swear--"

"STOP! Stop, stop--I-I took it, sah!"

And just like that, Blackheart gestured for two solid brown ferrets to rush over to the squirrel who confessed his crime. One of the ferrets unlocked the squirrel's ankle lock before they both dragged the old, graying squirrel over to the cold-hearted ferret wearing his cape. No need for him to shout or yell. Blackheart looked down at the squirrel on his knees and held out a paw.

"Give it to me."

The squirrel whimpered silently as he dug into his shorts and pulled out the dagger wrapped in cloth. Blackheart snatched it from his paw and unraveled it before he grinned to himself.

"I-I-I just...I needed it, Lord. I-I didn't...the rats, they always--"

"No need to explain yerself, mate! I'm a beast of my word."

The squirrel stopped shaking so much and stood up. "So...so you-you won't put me...in-in that?"

The mirthful ferret chuckled again as he rubbed the dagger. "Absolutely not!"

The slave grunted when Blackheart plunged the dagger into his torso. He tasted blood in his mouth and could feel it dribbling out and running down his chin. He whined as Blackheart quickly ran the blade along the abdomen horizontally, cutting open the squirrel's stomach. The squirrel could feel his intestines sliding out and collapsed in front of Blackheart. Blood was pouring out of the wound. The feces in his large intestines was dripping out and contaminating the blood in his other organs. The squirrel whimpered as he started to bleed out on the ground.

"You...you--"

"I said I wouldn't put anybeast underneath the head crusher if they confessed. And I didn't! Aren't you glad ye came forward and didn't have to suffer from this...this awful torture device?"

Blackheart wiped the blood off the dagger before he stepped in the middle of the bailey and addressed the rest of the slaves.

"Anybeast else wanna confess? Anybeast? ...No?"

Nobeast was going to speak up. Why would they? Their only options were to have their head crushed, or to be gutted like a giant fish. Blackheart snorted and wiped his nose with his arm.

"Then get back to work! And as fer you, Nelldyne,"

The weasel with a disgusting, burned face stopped drinking grog and stepped away from the palisade compound he was leaning against. "Yeah?"

The ferret snickered as he glanced over at the mouse still moaning, the blood still pouring from his mouth and getting all over his broken pieces of teeth.

"Finish my slave off for me. You've been doin' a fine job lately; I think you deserve it!"

Nelldyne spat on the ground and grinned widely. Unlike Blackheart, he was missing half his teeth, and some of them were black and rotten. "By all means, Lord!"

The weasel walked over to the wounded mouse and the head crusher device and grabbed the handle. Giggling like a mischievous babe, he started to twist the handle and resumed crushing the rodent's head, breaking several more bones. As Blackheart watched his soldier smash the mouse's skull, one of the ferret's top lieutenants grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside.

"And just what is yer problem, Clemson?!"

The fox panted as he rubbed his head and looked over at the mouse. "How long are yew gonna keep this up, sah? Are ye tryin' ta build a fortress or wot?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Yew want yer slaves ter build this fortress, but how c'n they do that when yew an' Gilmar an' Nelldyne an' all the other vermin here keep killin' 'em all?!"

"By getting more slaves, Clemson! That's what you're for, 'member? You and all my soldiers!"

"Y-yes, yes, sah. I-I know that," he said, before glancing over at the mouse again. Nelldyne shouted as he twisted the handle so fast that the rodent's eyes literally oozed out of his head, turning into watery slime that ran down his face and plopped on the table. Blackheart and Clemson weren't sure if the slave was still alive, but he wasn't hollering anymore. The fox looked at Blackheart again and sighed.

"I know that...y-yer our leader, but...maybe you could--"

The fox yelped when Blackheart grabbed his tunic and roughly pulled him towards him. The fox could feel the ferret's hot breath on his nose as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, are you telling me how to rule my fortress?"

"N-no, sah!"

"Are you telling me how to rule over my slaves?"

"No, sah!"

"You do not rule this fortress, Clemson! I do!"

"I-I know--"

"Then why are you treating me like some fuckin' idiot?!"

"I'm not--"

Blackheart was shaking the fox now and getting spittle all over his face. His voice was getting vociferous; everybeast in the bailey could hear the cold-hearted ferret as he roared at the vulpine now.

"YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK I DO! YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT'S BEST FOR ME! I AM THE ONE IN CONTROL HERE! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?!"

"YES! Yes-yes, please, just calm--"

Clemson shouted when Blackheart punched him down to the ground. Blackheart removed his cutlass from its sheath and pointed it at Clemson.

"Get up! GET UP!"

The fox started whimpering like the slave who just had his intestines cut out of him. His eyes were watery with tears, and the vulpine couldn't speak without stuttering.

"P-p-please, sah! Please--I'll stop questionin' yew! I won't--"

"Ear or cock? I'll let ye decide this time!"

Blackheart chortled quickly before he crouched down and got in the fox's face again. "Ohhhhhh...that's right! I already took your cock!"

And with that, Blackheart sliced Clemson's right ear off with his cutlass. The fox shouted and fell to the ground again, whimpering and groaning as he clutched the stump that used to be a pointy ear. Clemson could feel blood getting all over his paw and started to breathe heavily. The black ferret scoffed as he wiped the blood off his blade and placed it back into the sheath.

"You talk to me that way again, and it'll be yer eye next time," Blackheart warned.

Clemson didn't respond. He just lied on the ground and kept whimpering. Blackheart, on the other hand, walked towards the metal gate leading to the tunnels and opened it up. He walked down a set of stone stairs and disappeared from the slaves and soldiers. And unfortunately for Honward, his line of vision. The three hares couldn't see the ferret anymore, and they weren't sure whether or not to risk following him into the tunnels. They sat down with their backs pressed against the merlons.

"Lost him. Guess he went into the tunnels," said Menner.

The sergeant exhaled. "So we know who Blackheart is an' wot he looks like. We know where the slaves are, an' we know how well-guarded they are."

"We still don't know wot's in the tunnels, sah. Could be more slaves, more vermin; mayhaps both," said Jenner.

"Could be the armory," said Menner.

Honward peeked over the merlons as he took a brief glance at all the vermin and slaves around the courtyard. He rubbed his left ear before staring at the guard towers and the wall walk.

"So our biggest concerns are the longhouse, the armory, and wotever's in the tunnels."

"Guard towers?"

"Archers can take out the vermin up there," said Jenner.

"The gate?"

Hon scoffed. "Have you seen Urthquake, Menner? He'll bust it down, simple as that."

Menner exhaled heavily. "That jus' leaves the tunnels. We should stick around; see if anybeast starts blabbin' about wot's down there."

---

Calling the area beneath Blackheart's fortress "tunnels" would be a severe exaggeration. They were the torture chambers, pure and simple. As the black ferret walked along the stone path, he grinned widely and sighed, reveling at the sight of the place. The whole area was one long corridor composed of stone, with several cells scattered on the left and right side of the hallways. The area was lit with several torches--none of which were placed inside the cells. The cells themselves were no different from ordinary ones that existed in Fort Kotir. Inside were four walls and malnourished slaves, nothing more. No food unless it was thrown at them, no drinks unless they were given to them, not even a container for somebeast to excrete in, so the slaves had to go in the corner of the cells. But the stench of feces and urine was minor compared to the stench of death. Any of the beasts who died in the tunnels weren't buried or thrown into the sea. They were thrown into a dank cell, left to rot and attract flies and to stink up the area. The bodies piled up, and so did the odor and dried-up blood. Anybeast would've been repulsed just by walking down the stairs.

But Blackheart relished in it all. Everytime he walked into the tunnels he would hear somebeast screaming or moaning or crying. Somebeasts would be complaining about the smell. Others would be complaining about the small amount of food given to them. And the guards were allowed to do whatever they wanted to the slaves, no matter how abusive or nonconsensual it was. Blackheart walked over to one cell and knocked on the door, and a brutish ferret missing his left eye slowly turned around.

"Later, Lord. I'm still a bit busy," said the naked ferret, as he lied on top of a recently abused hedgehog.

Blackheart snickered as he walked away. He spotted his second in command standing beside a torch on the wall with a scowl on his face. The brown beast wasn't fat or overly buff, just tall and fit. Even Blackheart wasn't as tall as his second in command--and arguably not as smart. But he was intimidating, and that was what Blackheart needed. The tall weasel unfolded his arms after Blackheart approached him, his expression still the same.

"Why the stern face, my trusty, conniving cohort? Upset we ran outta blackberry cordial?"

"Water..."

The weasel grumbled as he stared at his leader. "We have a problem, sah."

"Water...please..."

"Hold that thought," interrupted Blackheart.

The black ferret opened up the cell door he and the weasel were standing next to and walked inside. Five slaves were crammed inside the tiny cell; two of them were so skinny that Blackheart could see their ribs. The other two were curled up in a ball and twitching in the sleep, probably suffering from nightmares and diseases. The last slave was lying on the floor wheezing and moaning, his mouth and throat so dry that his voice was nearly gone. The creature blinked as he looked up at Blackheart, hoping he'd give him something to quench his thirst.

"Oh dear, we forgot to send ye a nice, cool bottle of wine to drink for dinner tonight!"

The slave, a hedgehog who was slowly getting thinner as the weeks went by, got to his knees and wheezed.

"Please..."

"I'm sure you want some warm wine to flow down that dry throat of yers, eh?"

The hedgehog was broken. He couldn't help but nod and hope that the ferret showed mercy. But for some bizarre reason, he was undoing his shorts and exposing his groin to the hedgehog.

"Lucky fer you, I got a full bottle right here!"

It all happened so fast. One second the hedgehog was wheezing. The next he was gagging when the ferret stuck his penis into his mouth. The hedgehog gagged at first, but it wasn't until Blackheart began to pee that the slave started to retch. Blackheart held the hog's head and tried to keep him still as he urinated into his mouth. The yellow fluids went everywhere, running down the hog's chin as he spluttered. Blackheart made sure that he stuffed his penis far inside so that a majority of the urine would flow down his throat. And the disgusting truth of it all was that the hedgehog was partially glad this was happening. He hadn't consumed any fluids for an entire day and was forced to swallow his own saliva. At some point, the hedgehog was so thirsty that he stopped trying to spit up the urine and just drank it. Blackheart grinned widely as he watched his slave submit to him before he removed his penis as he finished. The hedgehog coughed and retched, on the verge of vomiting after realizing what he just did.

"I got some hot honeyed nutbread and baked red fish if you're hungry too! Are ya hungry slave?"

The hog didn't even look at him. Maybe his belly was grumbling, but he wasn't that hungry. The hedgehog slowly shook his head, and Blackheart snorted as he crouched down.

"Then shut yer fucking mouth, 'afore I rip your tongue out!"

The ferret pulled up his trousers and walked out of the cell so he could regroup with his second in command. He locked the cell door back up before he and the tall weasel began to wander down the halls.

"So what's troubling you, Trilden?"

"You, Blackheart. All the shit we've been doin' fer the past few seasons."

The ferret exhaled. "I've already been through this with Clemson!"

"Production's down, sah. The slaves aren't workin' as hard as they used to. An' more bodies are pilin' up in these tunnels."

"Then double their work shifts! If any slave even stops to take a breath, have Gilmar whip 'em until they can't walk! And from now on, we're only feeding the slaves once a day, not twice!"

Trilden shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "You fuckin' moron."

Blackheart stopped walking and snarled. His second in command usually didn't speak to him this way--not unless Blackheart was drunk. But the beast was sober tonight, albeit a little irritated over the slaves' sluggish work.

"I know you did not just talk--"

"Shut up and listen for two fuckin' minutes! You see that slave in there?"

Blackheart heard somebeast moaning and chewing on meat inside a nearby cell. The ferret walked over to the door and looked inside before he started to grin. Inside was an otter covered in blood. The ravenous creature was on the floor chewing and smacking as he tugged on bloody flesh with his teeth. His cellmate had been chopped into pieces, and a majority of him was simmering in the otter's stomach. The otter swallowed hard and glanced up at the ferret, his eyes feral, demonic. He snarled as he looked back down and started tearing away at his cellmate's severed leg with his teeth. Blackheart snickered and looked back up at Trilden.

"Just a slave fillin' his belly! Can't work tomorrow if he don't eat, now can he?"

"Blackheart, you told me that this was about buildin' a fortress, about controllin' the coast, about findin' more pirates ter help us. But all you and beasts like Nelldyne do is force yerselves into yer slaves. You kill 'em all an' then force us to fetch you more, like there's an unlimited supply!"

Blackheart shrugged. "Isn't there?"

"There is a difference between bein' a lord, a conqueror, and bein' a savage, a fuckin' barbarian. ...I caught Nelldyne fuckin' a mole a week ago. After he cut her head off."

The ferret scratched his head and continued to walk down the hallways. "We both know that Nelldyne is a bit...queer. But he's a good soldier--"

"Wot Nelldyne does is barbaric! Wot you do is barbaric! We're not even tryin' to finish this fortress anymore; we're spendin' too much time torturin' slaves! Rapin' males, females, and in Nelldyne's case, corpses, whippin' babes, starvin' the slaves an' forcin' them to eat each other...wot is the point, sah?"

"To show all these mongrels who's in charge here! If they don't fear me, then how will they ever work for me?!"

"If you kill them all, how will you finish this fortress?"

"Hehe, it's a cycle, Trilden! The slaves work for me until they die. An' when we get low on slaves, we go out and find more!"

"Yore not--" Trilden huffed as he guided Blackheart towards the cell filled with bodies. "This isn't just about barbarism, sah. We're killin' too many slaves. Somebeast with way too many friends is gonna notice. We're gonna attract the wrong attention, sah!"

Trilden opened up the door and stepped into the cell. His footpaws created vile squishing sounds as he stepped around the pools of blood and rotting flesh. All the bodies inside were in different stages of decay. Some were only starting to rot, while others were nothing more than grayish, wrinkled, bloated piles of meat, skin, fur and bones. Trilden nonchalantly rolled a squirrel's body aside before crouching down and moving a few severed limbs off a small corpse. Trilden grabbed the short corpse and grunted as he hauled it out into the corridor. The heavy weasel dropped the bloody, mutilated corpse at Blackheart's footpaws, causing the ferret to raise an eyebrow.

"So this is about some shrew?"

"Those two scouts you captured were from the Guosim, sah. An' you slew one of 'em."

Blackheart laughed. "Yes, I remember now! Gilmar and I took turns whipping him across the face! Think we tore out one of his eyes in the process 'afore I ran him through with my good ole cutlass!"

"Yore still not fuckin' listenin'! Log-a-Log was our friend at one point, our ally! But you cocked it all up when you killed this beast an' failed t'kill the other one! Ya shouldn't have captured 'em in the first place! Wot's stoppin' Log-a-Log from fuckin' us over now?!"

"That bloated shrew wouldn't dare try to breach this fortress."

"But he's got a big mouth, sah. How do we know he won't tell us where we are, wot we've been doin'?"

"Because I'll just tell everybeast that Log-a-Log is the one who told me where I could find slaves fer my army in the first place. I'm sure that'll raise a few eyebrows."

"Who's the woodlanders gonna believe: the Shrew Chieftain, or some lowly, narcissistic Badrang wannabe who rapes an' kills innocent beasts fer a livin'?"

Blackheart did not like hearing those words. He always thought himself to be much greater than Badrang ever was. Even that stoat never managed to ally himself with a Shrew Chieftain. What right did Trilden have to talk to him this way? All the beasts on the Western Coast feared him, bowed down to him, piddled themselves when his name was even mentioned. The world was so scared of him that the Red Sand tribe and cannibalistic lizards and toads didn't come wandering around the fortress. So what if Blackheart killed one too many slaves, one of whom was a scout in the Guosim? Blackheart was a valiant leader, a maniacal and fearsome tyrant. He could do whatever he wanted.

"You take that back. Now," the ferret growled.

"Listen to me--"

"No, you listen to me, Trilden! I am your leader! I am your lord! The beast you worship! This is my fortress, and I shall do whatever I want, whenever I want to! If I want to stick my cock in-between an otter's thighs, so be it! If I want to flog a mouse fer lookin' at me with a scowl on his face, so be it! And if I want to slay a member of the Guosim, then so fucking be it!"

Blackheart slowly started to walk backwards as he broke out into an insane fit of laughter. Trilden snorted as the black ferret started grinning demonically again.

"This," he said, spreading out his arms, "this is all mine, Trilden. MINE! And you and Clemson and whoever the fuck opposes my actions aren't gonna tell me how to run my domain, my soldiers, my slaves! Nobeast is taking my kingdom away from me! Not you, not the Guosim, not even these slaves I know are plotting to rebel behind my back!"

Blackheart giggled again. "We-we should chop up all those bodies! Hehe, it's aaaaaaall about fear, Trilden! We-we chop these bodies into tiny pieces, fetch some birds, send 'em all back to their families! HA! Then everybeast will know what I can do should they ever cross me! Whaddya think, Trilden? Definitely not somethin' a lowly beast would do! Hmph, wannabe? I could've given Badrang a few tips if he were still alive! Dont'cha--"

Blackheart squealed when Trilden grabbed him by the throat and squeezed hard. Trilden was a lot stronger than he looked. So strong that he managed to lift Blackheart right off his footpaws. He held the black beast in the air as he pressed him against the wall, scowling and growling.

"Let's get somethin' straight here: I'm bigger'n you. I'm stronger'n you. If I wanted to, I could crush yer neck right now. You think I fear you 'cos...wot? Yore my leader? Hmph, wot makes you so special?"

Blackheart was whimpering and gagging, desperately trying to remove Trilden's paws and even clawing at his arms. Trilden didn't even budge.

"You don't listen. You don't care. Sooner or later, yore gonna drag this whole army into the ground, an' yore 'kingdom' will be smothered with sand and our corpses! So I'm gonna make this simple: yore gonna start listenin' to me, to Clemson. Yore gonna stop killin' so many slaves. And yore gonna get back to buildin' this fortress, like you said you would."

Trilden let go of Blackheart. The black ferret collapsed to the floor and started to cough violently as he rubbed his sore throat. He started breathing heavily and whimpering afterwards, his eyes watery. He had never been so scared in his life. He had never been so close to death before; it all happened so fast, so suddenly. All his precious work could've ended right then and there had Trilden not spared him. Shaking and sniffling, Blackheart slowly stood up as he looked up at the oversized weasel.

"You...you can't...y-you don't do that to me."

His proud, booming voice was now soft, hoarse, and pathetic. Trilden just grinned widely as he looked down at his leader.

"You take my advice, Blackheart. Or...this glorious fortress might not be yores to command anymore."

"...Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warnin' you, sah. I'm statin' a fact."

Blackheart whimpered as he slowly began to back away from Trilden, his eyes still watery. He pointed at his second in command, his finger shaking.

"You...you don't...don't speak to me this way again...don't-don't ever choke me again. I...I'm your ruler. I-I can still--"

"Wot? Yer gonna chop my cock off like ya did Clemson? Hehehe, try it. We'll see which beast loses his shaft."

Blackheart looked away and paused for a very long time. He exhaled as he slowly lowered his finger.

"...I suggest you stay awake tonight...Trilden. That's my advice."

Trilden shrugged. "Wotever you say, Glorious and Wise Lord."

Blackheart couldn't take this constant mocking. He wanted to punish Trilden. He needed to. He had to show him who was more dominant. But how could he? He couldn't physically best him, and he knew he couldn't kill him. ...But he could do what Trilden didn't want him to. Hmph, tired of me raping slaves? he thought. Fine then! Because of you, a slave's going to suffer my wrath tonight! Snarling and still trying to cover up his tears, Blackheart opened up a cell door and pulled out a slave: a female rabbit with white blotches all over her fur. Blackheart dragged the slave away by the ears, paying no attention to her incessant screaming and pleading. Trilden couldn't help but smirk as he watched his lord walk away. This hadn't been the first time he had done something like this to Blackheart. And at the rate the ferret was going, it probably wouldn't be the last. But the weasel didn't care. Sooner or later, he'd end up slaying him anyway and taking command of this fortress.

---

Honward and the runners saw the vexed ferret walk out of the tunnels dragging a rabbit by her ears. The hares saw what Blackheart was doing and knew the rabbit was in grave danger. But they couldn't do anything--not without getting caught. Blackheart walked over to Nelldyne (who was busy carving out the eyes of the squirrel Blackheart disemboweled) and snorted.

"What is it, Lord?"

"You and Gilmar go into the tunnels and look over the slaves with Trilden! An' if that cocksucker so much as sneezes in the wrong direction, you slay him! Understand?!"

Nelldyne scratched his head. "Slay him? But he's yer most trusted--"

"DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!"

Nelldyne started nodding like an idiot. "Yeah, yeah! Okay, Lord! Whatever you say!"

Blackheart looked down at the rabbit still thrashing about and grinned wickedly.

"Don't worry my precious little long-eared prize! The fun part is just about to start!"

Some of the slaves and soldiers looked at the rabbit as she was dragged into Blackheart's longhouse hollering. Then the pitiless ferret slammed the door shut. There was no need to guess what was about to happen. The hares knew just by looking at how pretty the rabbit was. Menner shook his head and exhaled while Honward watched as the weasel with facial burns and the rat carrying the long whip traveled down into the tunnels. Clemson was out of their field of vision, most likely applying poultice to the wound on his head. Honward sat down on the wall walk as he faced his hares.

"We're done here. We know most of the primary locations and we have a good idea on wot the state of their defenses are. We'll come up with a plan tomorrow."

"But we still don't know how many slaves are down there, sah," said Menner. "Or vermin, for that matter. Wot if they decide to slay all the slaves the moment we breach the fortress?"

"Like I said, we'll come up with a plan. There's nothin' more we can do here without gettin' caught. Don't worry about the slaves; they can hold out for one more night. Come dawn, most of 'em will be free anyways, an' all these vermin will be at the Hellgates. Now let's go."

The runners didn't argue with the sergeant. They both nodded as they followed him down the unfinished wall. Honward was right. They couldn't worry about what would happen to the slaves tonight. They could hold out until dawn. If a few slaves died tonight, so be it. It was better for them to lose a few slaves and save the rest tomorrow, than to botch the rescue attempt tonight and get several of them caught in the crossfire. No need to unleash their fury now without thinking. Hon knew from experience that it was better to let the fury simmer inside and slowly build up until it was nearly overflowing. Then he would unleash it, and cut down every enemy in his path.