Until I Die

**"Until I Die"** is the twenty-fourth and final episode of *War* and the 73rd episode overall. It is the second in the two-part season finale, preceded by "Bless My Homeland."

The episode was released on June 13, 2021.

In the episode, the escapees, traumatized and bereft, trek across the wastelands south of Cartonia searching for a new home.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 725**B:** Route of Escape
## The Episode

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—November 14, 725—*

*-3 Days After the Destruction of the Vulpus Dam-*

*How do I find the words to describe what has transpired over the last few days? How can I illustrate the scene at the Dam without invoking trauma? Do I dilute this chronicle, or use painstaking detail to gut open my heart and relive everything I want to forget?*

*This is the first time I am writing an entry without my mother nearby. She has been by my side throughout this war, from Ripper to O Camp to Canis and beyond, all the way to the Vulpus Dam. For her memory, and her sake, and because I have now sat with this diary in my lap for three hours staring at the blank page, I will retell the tale as closely as I can recollect.*

*Three days ago, after we arrived at the Dam, we waited in our truck as a team of soldiers stormed the Vulpus Administration Dam Complex. Mom, Nicholas, and I watched through the small windows of our truck with trepidation. None of us could believe we had actually made it to the southernmost tip of Vulpus. The Expanse was right there, and we were tasting freedom.*

*The Dam was quickly commandeered, and we disembarked our trucks. Mom went with her control room team to operate the Dam’s water levels and aid in our escape. I gave her a quick hug and told her I’d see her on the trash ship. She came down later on an errand, while we were loading up the supplies, and said she’d see me soon. And that was the last time I saw her. That will be the last time I ever see her.*

*It was so unceremonious. So quick. Insignificant. We were certain we would see each other soon. How wrong I was. There is nothing I regret more in my wartorn life. How I yearn to have her back in reach, if for no other reason than to say goodbye and express how much I love her. Oh Mom…where are you? Are you alive? Can you follow us?*

*I don’t have the will or motivation to describe the entire Dam complex and I’ve already gone over the plan, but I’ve attached a copy of the Dam diagram to this page. We spent the greater portion of the afternoon loading the trash ship with supplies. There were two ships, each laden with an equal stock of supplies. No one thought for a moment that choice of ship would determine who lived and who died. We chose the one on the right, and so we survived.*

*In a moment I will never forget, the freight elevator on the dock opened and out spilled a battalion of foxes. I was met first with incredulity, as I could not believe I was seeing them here. They had found us, after all. The foxes, far greater in number than us, began to kill indiscriminately. Those still on the platform, Nicholas and I included, scrambled to board the ships. The one on the left was bombed from the surface. The entire thing sunk into the Basin. I watched as the foxes used guns and bayonets to massacre those left behind. My mind went blank. I just remember wanting Mom. All I could comprehend was death. Stabbings, shootings, murders, blood everywhere. So many jumped into the water, hoping that would spare them. It did not. I don’t know how, but Nicholas got me on board the first ship. Everyone was screaming. They were going wild, banging against the sides, wanting to save our loved ones and fellow passengers. How could we? There was nothing we could do. I kept thinking of Mom, and how she was up in the control room. Was she safe up there or not? The foxes had somehow found us, and they would have swept the entire complex. Mom might be dead. I don’t know. I’ll never know.*

*Rockets kept firing at us, but they kept missing. One of them pushed us away from the dock, and at some point the door closed. I wish I could remember things better, but my urge to see Mom, to escape the ship and return to her, was overwhelming.*

*Nicholas returned me to reality and directed my attention to the platform. People were pointing there already, crying out about something—someone, actually. I had been engrossed in my own thoughts and nightmares concerning Mom that I did not realize that the Vixen Queen herself had come to the Dam to slaughter us. Her presence terrified everybody, as it could only portend the worst. She must know not only of our expedition, but of its occupants. And that makes our so-called “liberty” all the more fragile.*

*I saw the Queen myself. Far away, of course, but you can be miles away and still feel the piercing gaze of her nefarious eyes. I’ll never forget it.*

*As we got further away from the platform, we could see the scene with more clarity and terror. High up on top of the cliffs, where all of our escape trucks might still be parked, hundreds of black silhouetted foxes were watching us try to escape. At this point, our ship was nothing more than a life raft propelling us away from a slaughter. Luck dictated that we were the survivors.*

*I noticed the foxes on the platform had parted to allow the Vixen Queen to through, partially obscured from my vision by the ruins of the second trash ship and dozens of dead bodies. She was searching the dock, perhaps for one of the dead. As we watched this, still rooted in fear, yet inching further away, the unthinkable happened. Above and behind us, a horrid noise like two bricks grinding against each other, ripped my ears apart. I clapped my trotters over my ears to block it out. A giant wave suddenly cascaded over the Middle Dam into the Lower Basin, smacking our ship.*

*The Middle Dam was raining water like a gargantuan waterfall. Some believe that this could only have been achieved from the control room, while others think it was a major malfunction, or even foxes trying to rectify what Mom and the others had done. Everyone accepts that this flood was a precursor to what came next—the Dam’s collapse.*

*The water poured with the ferocity of a maelstrom. Titanic gusts of water flooded the platform, washing away every single person, including the Vixen Queen. I saw her drown myself. The ship was spinning, but I was on the side of her demise. I watching the Vixen Queen disappear beneath the sea, gargling water and gasping for air. There was no time to rejoice her death, as we were all crying out for the loved ones that drowned in that torrent.*

*Someone—Max, probably—screamed “the Dam is overtopped!” I thought he meant the Middle Dam, which was clearly overflowing. However, he meant the Lower Dam. So much water was jettisoning into the Lower Basin that soon the Lower Dam was dripping water over its edge. That grinding sound was continuing, somewhere far behind us. I’ve heard suggestions that it was the Upper Dam failing. I began to suspect we were going to fall over the Lower Dam, and die upon impact. The ship was being pushed rapidly toward the edge of the Lower Dam.*

*Then the Middle Dam began to crack, as if someone took a sledgehammer to it. Minerva Taylor blew a whistle, and Nicholas pulled me to the floor as all the passengers assumed brace position. Someone was tossing helmets around from the upper level of the ship. I managed to secure mine just in time. I thought for a foolish second that we were about to enter the bell-mouth spillway, but…*

*The Lower Dam collapsed. You could hear the concrete breaking away and tumbling out of place, and the suction of water racing to fill the void. Our ship pitched violently, and began to slide like a ball on a ramp. The supplies up above on the second floor of the trash ship banged into each other. I covered my helmet with my trotters and leaned against Nicholas. My curiosity kept one eye looking outward.*

*The ship passed beyond the horizon of where the Lower Dam once was. The Middle Dam was bursting open as if exploded by a bomb. Outside the ship, I saw the Vixen Cliffs stretching from the Dam to the Western Ocean, and then we were falling. The ship plummeted, and everyone screamed. It was like descending into the lowest depths of hell. Relentless and vehement. My stomach flopped and inflated like a balloon, and everything in my body tensed as it subconsciously braced for impact. I was certain we’d hit the Expanse below and die instantaneously.*

*The ship jolted—I thought this was the awaited impact—but then it jolted again. And again. Water sloshed against the ship, and I realized we were moving. No longer falling, but moving southward. Our plunge was not vertical, though we were still descending into the Expanse. The collapse of the Dam had created an incomprehensibly enormous deluge that was carrying us far away from the Vulpus Dam. I raised my head and watched as the Vixen Cliffs faded away. I could now see that the entirety of the Vulpus Dam had collapsed, including the Upper Dam. This meant that the Vulpus Reservoir was draining, supplying our escape route.*

*We were out. We had actually made it beyond the Dam and were going south! The flood worked to our advantage, as it did not stop for hours. The ship traveled so far that we lost sight of the Vixen Cliffs. We were in the center of the desolate Expanse, unpopulated, arid, hazardous, and of course expansive. The ship moved violently, jerking whenever a large wave sent us in an opposite direction. For the most part, we could sit up and look out the windows. At one point, the ship dropped into a valley with great red rocks on either side. The valley was already flooded with water from Cartonia, and we sailed over it. Along the valley walls were natural arches of rock. They were like windows to another world, but they too passed in the blink of an eye. The water thinned out over the evening, and around 9:00 at night the ship finally came to a rest in a newly-formed lake. The lake was entirely fed by the water of Vulpus. I have no idea what was here before today, and the water will not drain fast enough for us find out. We’ve been told the Expanse is unpopulated, and I hope that’s true and we didn’t flood a village.*

*The ship floated gently on this new lake, which someone called Lake Beyond for its positioning beyond the Vulpus Dam, the Vixen Cliffs, and Cartonia. That’s now all we refer to it as. Nicholas remarked that we are like explorers now, and everything we find can be named to our pleasing. I’m glad someone sees a positive in our situation. Yes, we have made it beyond the Dam. What comes next?*

*Eventually, the ship bumped against land, and Max opened the door. There was some hesitancy in leaving the trash ship, which is ironic. It was nothing more than a vessel, yet there was safety in it. The trepidation was shattered when dead bodies were found lying about the ship, from injuries sustained in the fall from the Dam. Everyone got off the ship quickly after that.*

*With 41 fatalities, there are 501 of us. We took a roll call standing on the bank of Lake Beyond, shivering in the cold air and scared of our surroundings. So many were left behind at the Dam. We lost about half of our farmers, and a sizable portion of doctors and builders. Soldiers too. The hydrologists in the control room. Mom. Some of the bodies have washed up on the shores, but nobody is recognizable after spending so long in so much water.*

*We held a memorial service that night, for all those that died in the Dam’s collapse. Minerva led with a moving eulogy, most of which I cannot remember because I was so emotional. We know that everyone on the dock died, but the fate of those in the control room is unknown. The foxes may have gotten to them, or they saw the Dam collapse and retreated, allowing Mom and the others to escape. I have to choose to believe she lived.*

*The one part of the eulogy I remember clearly is Minerva’s assertion that if not for those in the control room, we would not be here. Some still believe the Dam failed on its own accord, but Minerva believed that Mom and the others precipitated the disaster, enabling us to escape. For many of us, they are heroes.*

*Over the next two days, we slept outside in the grass by Lake Beyond. We have nowhere to go, except elsewhere. We have no plan, as everything has changed now. We’ve organized supplies and fashioned makeshift wagons from chopped-down trees, courtesy of the carpenters and builders we have with us.*

*On this third day since our escape, it seems as if we were not followed. We’re not sure how this feat would be achieved, but if the foxes wanted to avenge their Vixen Queen, they would assuredly try. If we are not being followed, then we must press on to gain as much of a distance advantage as we can. We are using a compass to direct a course for the southern mountains, which is the furthest anyone from Cartonia has gone into the Expanse in recorded history. We must find a suitable place to establish some sort of semi-permanent camp.*

*I am not alone in losing a loved one on this journey. Nearly everyone was affected by the fox attack and subsequent disintegration of the Dam. No one knew Mom like I did, and only Nicholas and Sergeant O could share a meaningful memory with her. Her legacy must be preserved by me, and me alone. I will never forget her. She will be a part of me until I die. And by my words, and with my story, including this diary, she will be alive long after I am gone.*

—Lake Beyond—

Bella Mallard, once the Queen of Mallardia, took a moment to stroll along the lake that evening. She was suddenly overwhelmed to be here, the reality of it all catching up with her. This odd land was familiar and yet so different. This was still the Cartonian continent, but everything was unexplored. Even this lake was new, the product of the flood from the Dam’s collapse. Bella just needed a few moments away, to herself. She hadn’t left her family’s side since the escape. She was extremely fortunate that every single member of her family had been on the first ship, and survived the fall. She passed her daughter, Emmeline, off to her Uncle Bosworth, and headed along the lake’s edge.

There were a few bodies bobbing up and down in the water. They were all face-down. Two foxes, one cat.

Bella hesitated, and glanced backward at the others gathering around fires. Tomorrow, they would start the trek south. No one knew how long that would last.

She turned back to the bodies. The cat. Who was the cat? It was one of the passengers. It could be Lionel Lazoy, or Queen Roxanne.

Bella waded into the water, only up to her knees, and flipped the body. An unfamiliar face, bloated and waterlogged, gazed up at her. She winced at the sight. She bumped against one of the other bodies, and it rolled over.

Bella froze. She knew that face. She had only seen it in person once before, at Beakfield Manor in Anatoidea on July 2, 716. The night Mallardia fell. The night Dad was murdered.

The Vixen Queen.

Bella couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this an illusion? Her imagination willing those features onto this corpse? But the longer she looked, the more she realized that this was the body of Queen Vixen VII. Her crown was long gone, her life long extinguished.

Nine years ago, teenaged Bella Mallard watched through a crack in the door of the Gallery as the Vixen Queen impaled her father. Ever since that day, she had imagined hundreds of scenes of revenge. Gruesome as they were, they gave her comfort. Somebody had to avenge the murder of King Swan XX.

But here she was. Dead. Forever.

Bella smiled. No one else knew she was here. The passengers, Bella included, needed to heal. The Vixen Queen and Vulpus were behind them.

Bella left the body in Lake Beyond, abandoned to rot away forever.

—The Expanse—

—1 Month Later—

December brought harsh cold weather, worse than when they escaped, and the passengers found themselves struggling for survival in a desolate wasteland. Their supplies, especially the canned goods, were key to maintaining sustenance. Finding edible food in the wilderness was a challenge.

Nonetheless, the developed routine since the escape mandated that more than half of the passengers would scavenge the surrounding area for food. They went in pairs, and Trent Mallon chose fellow BioFreak and escapee Sophie Riffick to hunt with him. While Trent was poisoned by Cervidium on the battlefield, Sophie was operated on in the sadistic labs of Talonclaw Castle. Sophie had broke out of the Castle with Doe Deirdre of Cervidium, and went with her to Antlerstag to overthrow Stag Ellis. He had died in a confrontation with Deirdre, and she was sadly killed by Barrow Elkton, who elevated himself to Stag shortly thereafter. That was years ago, but Sophie still spoke often of Deirdre’s spirit and bravery.

A majority of monarchs, heirs, and royals managed to board the first ship. Sterling, Grayson, and other Oldman family members died trying to escape the massacre on the dock at the Dam. All the Lazoys perished, including Lionel Lazoy, one of the organizers. Max and Minerva were devastated by that loss. Only six elephants made it, including Card, Jasiri, and Binti Tatum. Diana Loudoun’s fate was unknown, but she did not escape.

Trent counted his blessings daily that he was on the first ship. If not, he would be one of the hundreds of bodies that washed up in Lake Beyond. Eyes bloated, skin peeling off, dead.

Trent shuddered and resumed what he was doing, rummaging around bushes for berries. He knew he wouldn’t find any; it was more of a shrub or tumbleweed than a bush. Sophie was poking at a piece of greenery with a stick.

Nothing.

The Expanse was mostly cracked desert, with mixed-grass prairies punctuating the landscape. Eroded buttes and pinnacles stood like statues around them, and there was hardly any wildlife. Not even snakes. It was most similar to the volatile environment of the steppes of Capricon, though this was on a much greater scale with no population. There were reports of small nomadic colonies in the Expanse, but in the past month none had been found.

Every morning, the passengers awoke and traveled south. They moved for three hours. The elderly, the infirm, and the children rode in wagons with the supplies. Teams of the strongest, mostly soldiers, pulled the wagons. Horses were historically wagon-pullers way before Cartonia was settled, and it was easy for them to shoulder the weight. The refugees rested at midday and had lunch from their supplies, rationed to ensure long-term survival. Then they would travel for another three hours, rest and have dinner, and then hunt for food.

Trent and Sophie had grown closer since becoming hunting buddies. As BioFreaks, they were already bonded by their deformities.

“Are you tired?” Trent asked as they headed back to the entourage, empty-handed.

“Exhausted,” Sophie replied.

“Will you sleep?”

He asked that everyday. Sophie had the power to induce sleep, and was often called to help quell nightmares. The reverse affliction was that she had insomnia. Most nights, she didn’t sleep a wink.

“I’ll try. Maybe I’ll get a few hours.”

“I’m sorry,” Trent said sadly, another thing he said a lot. Sophie shrugged.

“It’s okay. The stars of the Expanse…they’re beautiful.”

—

Max and Minerva were at a disagreement. Having lost Lionel Lazoy in the Dam’s destruction, and his critical tie-breaking vote, they were arguing back and forth. Max wanted to settle temporarily at the base of the mountain range to the south and set up a society to one day allow the royals and their heirs return for their thrones. That was, after all, the whole point of this. Minerva, on the other hand, wanted to forgo the original plan and establish a permanent settlement as far south as possible. That meant climbing the mountains and going further than anyone else had ever gone.

“Most of us don’t *want* to ever return,” Minerva near-shouted. They were in a tent after sunset. The ground was uneven and sharp grass was poking through the fabric.

“We probably won’t,” Max agreed, rubbing his temples, “but the next generation will! They must! We have a duty to those we left behind!”

“Max,” Minerva groaned, “we are the lucky ones. We have to utilize and capitalize on that luck. No one wants to frame their minds around a return to Cartonia. It’s akin to walking into your grave.”

Max shook his head.

“Then we’re cowards.”

Minerva sucked in her cheeks, her eyes firing up.

“It is not cowardice to protect your family, to seek a better life beyond impossibly horrendous conditions. If any of us stayed in West Terrier, we would have been killed. I mean…here—look at Daisy Mus!”

The flap of the tent was open, and Max could see Queen Daisy of Willie having dinner with her family. Her two teenaged daughters sat beside her, scraping the last remains out of a can of beans.

“What about her?”

“Daisy would have been executed. She was a royal, a sovereign, and a threat to the Vixen Queen. She and her two daughters would have been lined up and shot like so many have before them. Instead, they stand strong beyond the Dam. They are *free*.”

“We don’t know if we’re going to be followed,” Max mumbled. “We may not be free.”

“That is why we keep going south. *Beyond* the mountains. Further and further, until we cannot run anymore. Only then can we ensure our safety for generations to come.”

—One Month Later—

January brought the coldest weather they had yet experienced on their journey, but the drop in temperature was nothing compared to the icy tundra climate of West Terrier, Canis. Thumper and Evangelina Connelly were relatively unscathed as sharp winter winds sliced through the party as they trudged south. Thankfully, there was no snow to impede their trek.

“I think he’s still alive,” Evangelina said suddenly, and Thumper immediately knew to whom she was referring. “Uncle Benny is probably still on the run around Cartonia, jumping from safe house to safe house.”

“Raising flags of rebellion,” Thumper mused, closing his eyes momentarily to picture the scene. “Not giving up. Wily old Benny.”

Both Evangelina and Thumper made the conscious choice to believe in Bentley’s survival. Anyone with family back in Cartonia did the same. Until they were proven dead, they must be alive.

Yet, Thumper often felt as if his spirit was with him, in a way that could only happen when one had passed from the physical world and into the intangible realm of eternity.

—1 Month Later—

“It’s bright over there,” Binti Tatum pointed so her cousin could see. Card went to the side of the moving wagon and squinted at the horizon. The sunshine was pooling on what looked like a pointy rock.

“Not beautiful though,” Card murmured sadly. Card, like all the other children on the adventure, wanted desperately to know where they were going. Whenever they asked an adult, they got the same answer: “someplace bright and beautiful.”

Card and Binti spent the long afternoons scouring the surroundings for a place that matched that description. Nowhere seemed to fit the bill, and Card was beginning to wonder—after three months of traveling—whether such a place even existed out here. Worse, last night Card heard his Uncle Jasiri talking about foxes. He was speaking in a hushed voice to the other three elephants with them. Card worried there was something being withheld from him and Binti.

The unknown did not sit well with him. He missed his dad, who got shot on live television by the Vixen Queen. He missed Phantine, and his family. His grandparents, dead from the war. If Card was left alone to his own thoughts, he was always sad. He had nightmares, mostly about the war and the Vixen Queen, but sometimes about the Dam. When the trash ship plunged from the big basin of water into the Expanse, and he felt weightless and actually lifted off the floor, he thought he was going to die.

Facing death at such a young age was a constant haunt for the young elephant who, if not for the war, would have become Babar of Phantine.

—1 Month Later—

The cold weather softened a bit with the advent of spring, though the Expanse surprisingly got cooler as they pressed south. In Cartonia, the southern nations were the warmest and the northern were coldest. The exception was Sergeant Monica Oll’s home of Porcinia. The positioning of the nation and its dry climate gave rise to warmer winters than its neighbors.

When the travelers came to a rest that night in March, Monica stopped by the supply wagons to see Sentinel Dane Mastiff rifling through the crates with a clipboard.

“Half remain,” he said to her, even though she hadn’t greeted him. “Half our supplies are gone.”

He glanced up at the mountains in the distance. They were several weeks away from reaching them. In the winter, they had to cut down on distance traveled each day, and had to twice zigzag around natural obstacles.

“We can keep gathering edible food from the Expanse,” Monica pointed out. “Spring brings growth and food.”

Dane sighed. “It won’t be enough.”

Due to the twelve different species and therefore twelve different diets, finding something universal growing in the wild was a challenge. Everyone was used to ripe and ready groceries from markets and stores in Cartonia. Even with wartime rationing, no one ever had to forage for their own food. Because they were constantly moving, they couldn’t utilize the farmers they had among them.

“Some think we should stop moving and start settling,” Dane said, dropping his clipboard. He squatted his enormous body on the bed of the trunk and stared at Monica. “What do you think?”

“I agree with that,” she said. “We can stop anywhere around here and build defenses and prepare for any Vulpine contact. We can construct a fort, and begin farming. Take advantage of the summer months and the autumn harvest, and then keep heading south if we know we weren’t followed.”

Dane sat on the edge of the wagon, his thick legs so long they touched the grass. Monica standing was still shorter than Dane sitting.

“I don’t think we should stop,” Dane stated. “Look at these people we have with us. Royals. Heirs. Children. Nobles. Servants. A handful of soldiers, and some scrappy carpenters. Resilient people, for sure, but not warriors. If the foxes trace us here, we’re doomed. You and I can hold our weight, but most of these people cannot. We won’t be safe from the foxes until we’re further than they could expect us to go. I say we keep moving, and go over the mountains.”

—3 Weeks Later—

The mountain range that bordered the bottom of the Expanse was taller than any peak in Cartonia. Mizzie Mercury was certain of it. They were like jagged rocks in a long line. Snow was packed onto the slick cliffs from the midway points to the summits. The mountains were always visible to the escapees, though at first when they reached Lake Beyond the mountains seemed tiny. Now Mizzie understood why nobody had surmounted the mountains and returned to Cartonia. They were probably all dead somewhere on the range.

Fortuitously, the warmer weather of spring meant less snow and a potentially quicker journey over the mountains. They had no idea what waited for them on the other side.

They would find out in the coming days as Max and Minerva organized scouting parties to determine the quickest route up that would accommodate the greatest number of people.

Mizzie and her good friend, Daisy Mus, agreed to form one of the scouting parties. Mizzie and Daisy had grown close during their years at Vinesteeple, when Daisy was living in exile from the belligerent foxes that occupied Willie. Both of them had daughters too, which brought them closer. Mizzie’s two young girls were some of the youngest on the expedition.

“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?” Daisy asked, gesturing at the mountains. “Like something out of an art gallery.”

Mizzie nodded, taking in the breathtaking scene. The peaks were blue and white, silent and still like everything else in the Expanse. They cut across the continent from west to east, even extending into the ocean.

“I wish my father could have seen them,” Mizzie muttered, longing to be reunited with her father and the leader of Simeone, Ham Mercury. In one of his final acts before Mizzie left Cartonia, Ham proclaimed Simeone a monarchy once more with him as King and Mizzie as heir apparent. The move was to solidify her place on the expedition south, even if it meant permanent separation.

“Mine too,” Daisy replied and afterward fell poignant silence. Daisy’s own father had been murdered by the Vixen Queen, the entire Willonian royal family shot together in a dirty basement in Vulpus. The two collectively looked toward their children, the elder Mus daughters teaching a game to Mizzie’s kids.

“I can’t wait to see what’s on the other side,” Mizzie said to boost their optimism. Daisy grinned in return.

“May it be our future home.”

—Two Days Later—

“Albion, give me your flipper.”

Bosworth Mallard’s younger brother, Albion Mallard, extended his flipper and pulled Bosworth onto the ledge of the mountain. Out of breath, they paused to take in the view. The Expanse was rolled out before them like an endless plateau. Far in the distance, invisible now, were the Vixen Cliffs.

Bosworth and Albion, cousins of Queen Swan XXI of Mallardia—better known as Bella Mallard now—were one of the scouting pairs to locate the most accessible route up the mountains. They had been hiking for three hours, and so far found their chosen route to be quite usable. There was a few bottlenecks, such as the ledge they had just scaled, but a simple ladder would greatly expedite the trek.

Albion stooped and placed a fluorescent yellow cube to mark their trail. This way, they wouldn’t get lost and could replicate their path if theirs was chosen. The cubes were packed specifically for this purpose. The other teams had different colors.

“It’s so empty,” Bosworth commented in regard to the Expanse. The place was so large that they couldn’t even see the oceans bordering on either end. They were alone. From this vantage point, however, they could not see with the naked eye any large groups moving south, which meant they might actually have been left alone by the foxes.

“I think we should hike another two hours,” Albion suggested, craning his neck at the rest of the journey. “That’ll put us about a fifth or so up the mountain.”

“Agreed.”

The two brothers headed for a boulder behind which was the easiest way up to the next ledge. As they passed a cave, something moved.

Bosworth whirled to his right in time to see a living creature emerge with a cry. Albion yelped and pulled Bosworth away. More creatures egressed the cave. They were bigger than either Albion and Bosworth, brown and fuzzy, and wielding sharp weapons. Worse, they were all shrouded behind huge masks.

As despair dawned on Bosworth, he soon found himself surrounded. Albion raised his flippers to the sky.

“We’re peaceful! We don’t mean to trespass!”

“Please don’t hurt us!” Bosworth begged.

The first creature lowered his weapon, a long spear with a sharpened end. He cocked his head.

“Cartonia?” he asked, his voice gruff and muffled.

“Yes…” Albion replied, his flippers falling an inch. “We’re refugees.”

The creature’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. The veil was made of what appeared to be rock, painted white, with no markings. It was one of the most terrifying things Bosworth had seen. The mask covered the entire face, even the ears.

“Refugees?” the creature repeated. “Refugees from what?”

“War.”

The creature did not miss a beat.

“War in Mallardia?”

Bosworth glanced at Albion. Neither framed a response quick enough, and the creature raised his spear again.

“Names. Purpose. How many of you are there?”

Bosworth gulped.

“I’m Bosworth Mallard. This is my brother, Albion Mallard. We are fleeing the war in Cartonia and trying to find a place to settle a new home. There are 501 of us in total.”

“All ducks?”

“No,” Albion replied. “A mix.”

The creature raised his spear and jammed it into the ground.

“A war between nations? Impossible. What of the Harmony Crown?”

Bosworth could tell these people were also from Cartonia, though they must have fled before the war began. He wondered how long ago.

“It’s been abolished,” Albion sighed, “by the Vixen Queen.”

The creature perked. His head swiveled to his comrades, whose weapons were still aimed.

“Who was responsible for the war?”

Bosworth hurriedly explained the impetus for the war, leaving out the details of Bentley Connelly and Victoria Vixen’s love affair, which might not be well-received by these creatures. He emphasized the brutality of the Vixen Queen.

“I see,” the leader said in his rather unique accent. “Do you have foxes among you?”

“We do not,” Bosworth said, hopeful that these creatures understood the bellicosity of the foxes, which was detected years before the war began but never acted upon. “As they are to blame for this war and countless deaths, we did not bring any with us.”

“Never trust a fox,” Albion added.

The creature reached behind him and passed his spear to one of his compatriots. Then, he seized the bottom of his mask with both paws and lifted it from his face. Bosworth and Albion recoiled when the grizzled features of a fox were revealed.

“You know,” the fox said, crossing his grey arms, “I am inclined to agree with you. Spears down. They’re harmless.”

At that last command, all the weapons were dropped. The others removed their masks. All of them were foxes. The leader extended a gentle arm to the two ducks.

“Come inside. I want to hear more of this war. I’m sure you must both be hungry.”

Bosworth and Albion did not move as the foxes returned to the cave. Both were adhering to their dogma—never trust a fox. They just met these tribals; how could they just walk into their dwelling? The leader noticed their apprehension.

“Ah. Hesitancy. I imagine from what you’ve seen, you’re serious when you say you are distrustful of foxes. We are refugees too, though our ancestors fled long before you did. My father led the escape attempt from Vulpus, under the reign of Queen Vixen V. Who is on the throne now?”

“Vixen VII was the Queen during the war,” Albion stated, “but she died when we made our own escape. We are assuming her daughter is now Vixen VIII.”

The leader nodded. He stuck out his paw.

“My name is Oster. As you come in peace, we return that peace. I’m sure you can understand why we greeted you with hostility. We have never seen outsiders climb our mountain, and never so close to our own home. We too seek to remain hidden from the foxes of Vulpus, from whose persecution we fled. Our decades of isolation have allowed us to explore much of this mountain range. If you are searching for the safest route of passage, we can help you.”

Bosworth saw that Oster was being genuine. There was a time, before the war, when foxes were just like anyone else, and you could determine someone’s authenticity by a simple conversation. The foxes ruined their own ability to be trusted when they ignited the war. The Mallard brothers followed Oster into the cave.

It was dark until Oster pulled back a heavy curtain, made of what looked like knitted fabric. The foxes had built homes within the confines of the mountain cave, and lanterns hung around them like a fiery constellation. It was ingenious, and highly developed. There wasn’t electricity, or other modern appliances, but this second generation of refugees must have learned to go without.

“How long have you been here?” Albion asked as Oster led them to one of the subterranean huts, where another grey fox was doling soup into bowls. He was humming something as he did so. An infant fox was sleeping in a cradle.

“84 years. Our forebearers, the ones who escaped Cartonia, wandered the Expanse for five years, searching for a place to call home. Much like what you’re doing, it seems. They met nomadic tribes along the Western Ocean, people of all species, but wanted something more permanent. The nomads go wherever the food is. But we were all foxes, and we are omnivores. The first generation discovered these caves, and we’ve remained here ever since. The mountains supply much food, year-round. We are fortunate, and we will never leave.”

“And no one has ever come looking for you?” Albion asked, sitting at the table in Oster’s house. The other fox sat with them.

“Never. No one cared that our ancestors escaped.”

“Really?” Bosworth said, digging into his soup. “I can’t say the situation is the same for us. We destroyed the Vulpus Dam on our way out.”

Oster’s eyebrows went up.

“Quite the spectacle.”

“Yeah…”

They ate for a minute in silence. Bosworth’s stomach flared with delight at the exotic tastes.

“Why did you flee?” Albion asked. “We’ve told you our story.”

Oster set down his spoon and told his family’s tale. During the reign of the fifth Vixen Queen, villages along the Vixen Cliffs were uprooted to build underground mines. Vulpus wanted to beef up their treasury, and deep caches of gems were buried in the Cliffs. Oster’s father’s village was one of the ones razed. The Vulpus government refused to resettle them. They were essentially forced into homelessness. Seeing no other way out, and seeing the cruelty of the Vixen Queen, they stole into the bottommost mine at night and rappelled into the Expanse. Three dozen of them, in total. The rappelling took all night, and two died falling from the Cliffs. They wandered for five years, and settled in the mountains.

“We are independent, and free,” Oster finished. “We are happy, and though I never lived in Cartonia, I would never want to return. Especially now knowing there is a war.”

“You know a lot about Cartonia for someone who has never been there,” Bosworth pointed out. Oster nodded fervently.

“It is imperative that we educate our youth on where we’ve been. Our history in Cartonia defines our future here.”

He pulled himself forward. “Now tell me of your own struggles. This war, your escape. I am very curious, as are my fellow tribemates. As their leader, I will relay your story to them upon your departure. Information is a powerful thing, and if you are going to be followed by Vulpus, then we must likewise prepare.”

Bosworth and Albion traded off telling the story of the war, the last eighteen years of strife and turmoil, and their elaborate plot to escape Cartonia through the Vulpus Dam. They spoke to their upbringing in Mallardia and their Uncle Beck, who ruled as Swan XX and was killed during the sacking of Anatoidea. Oster and the other fox, named Polen, asked a litany of questions. They spent an hour at that table, telling each other stories and learning from their experiences.

“Your tale is most compelling,” Oster muttered in deep thought once the Mallard brothers were finished. “And of course, we will help you in your escape. If you choose this route as your path up the mountain, we will guide you to the summit and beyond. From there, you will be on our own. Once you are through, we will destroy the path you took so that no one else can follow this way.”

“Will that harm you, though?” Bosworth asked in genuine concern. Oster shrugged.

“We hardly ever go into the Expanse. There are other ways. We are masters of these mountains.”

Suddenly, the baby began to cry. Polen and Oster glanced at each other, and Polen ultimately went to soothe the child.

“Whose baby is that?” Bosworth asked.

“Ours,” Polen replied as he bounced the infant in his arms. Bosworth clapped his mouth shut to prevent anything rude coming out, but Albion was not so quick.

“Yours? But you’re both men.”

Polen and Oster got very serious. Oster leaned across the table, his eyes alight with fury.

“Cartonia is archaic in its laws and its practice. You had husbands and wives. We simply say ‘others.’ Polen is my other. I am his. Our love is equivalent to anyone else’s. When our ancestors escaped Cartonia, they left ignorance and hatred at the Cliffs. I see you have not, and if that is your attitude then I’m afraid we must say farewell.”

Bosworth angrily elbowed Albion.

“Forgive my brother. He’s never met a…gay couple before.”

Oster cocked his head.

“Have you?”

When he didn’t reply, Oster stood and collected their dishes.

“Not much has changed in Cartonia, then. It’s a shame, because excluding individuals from life’s greatest institution is an oppressive tactic. Your description of the war was jarring, and yet Albion’s judgment of our love hurt most.”

Albion jumped from his chair, flippers raised.

“I am *so sorry*. I didn’t mean any offense. Please forgive me.”

“Me too,” Bosworth mumbled, feeling terrible. Oster went over to Polen and stroked the baby’s head. They both gazed at the infant with such unadulterated affection that Bosworth could not see what the problem had ever been with same-sex relationships. It was the same as interspecies love.

“The war,” Bosworth said, “did not start out of nowhere because the Vixen Queen wanted to. It was born out of an interspecies romance between two heir apparents.”

Oster and Polen both listened as Bosworth explained the full story of Victoria Vixen’s assassination and Bentley Connelly’s bid to avenge her. He spoke of Canis’s overturn of the interspecies marriage ban and how other nations in exile—Mallardia included—planned to do the same.

“We are not used to unconventional romance,” Bosworth said. “It is not an excuse, but we are learning to be more understanding. I personally would like to thank you both for opening my eyes to a new experience. I think we would be better off if we left our own ignorance here at the mountain and established our new community on the basis of acceptance.”

Oster smiled.

“Apologies are accepted. Forgiveness is one of our tenets of principle here. You may think that we are both angry at you, but that is not the case. Surprised, yes. But ultimately your visit here has proved most enlightening. 89 years of missing history has been filled in, and we know now that our ancestors made the right choice to flee Vulpus. Had we been left there, our minds may have been warped by this new Vixen Queen and pitted against you as enemies. Instead, we both find ourselves beyond the realm of Vulpine control, and we are friends.”

Oster shook each of their flippers to demonstrate their friendship. Even though Bosworth and Albion knew they should be getting back down the mountain to report on what they found, they ended up staying with Oster, Polen, and the other foxes for hours.

For the first time in eighteen years, Bosworth trusted a fox.

—Three Days Later—

Navarra Caligari did not realize how poor of physical shape she was in until she had to hike these mountains. The upward incline was taxing, and her mental resolve went haywire when she heard that the expedition had already traveled well over 1,000 miles before even reaching the mountains.

The escapees were divided into groups, each led by a mountain scout who Albion and Bosworth found in the mountains. They wore these ugly masks that hid their entire faces.

“These mountains are unforgiving,” Navarra remarked angrily to her sister, Calinia, unaware that her words would not only prove to be extremely accurate, but would also become the namesake for the range they climbed.

—3 Weeks Later—

Nicholas Porker dozed beside Lana Loudoun as she completed an entry in her diary. They were only a day’s hike from reaching the summit. Everyone was wrapped in heavy coats and blankets, even the mountain scouts who were leading them. They were foxes, and Lana was shocked when she first saw one remove their mask. She chose not to include the species of the scouts in her diary, as they were clearly an exception to the rule “never trust a fox.”

“What’re you writing?” a voice said to her. She looked up to see Maximilian Walters clasping a cup of coffee.

“It’s my diary,” she explained. “I’ve been keeping a chronicle since the war began.”

Max looked impressed.

“May I?”

She handed it to him, and he skimmed the pages. A map of Cartonia fell out. “Did you draw this?”

“I did.”

“This is amazing. A firsthand account…I daresay you’ve been more detailed than I have. My own journals are very brief.”

He waved his paw in the direction of one of the mountain wagons the carpenters built specifically for the vertical hike. It was packed with books from Cartonia. “I wrote many of those, you know. Most are just history books. Minerva and I have a vision of establishing a great library wherever we’re going, just like the Grand Library of Phantine.”

“That would be nice,” Lana replied. “Maybe my diary will have a place there.”

“It absolutely would. I’m sure there will be many firsthand accounts of our escape.”

—The Next Morning—

The wind was strong at sunrise when Max and Minerva reached the summit of one of the Unforgiving Mountains. The hike was by far the most strenuous part of the journey thus far. On some days, they could only hike for a single hour. Max was winded, and ever-grateful to the mountain-dwellers that Bosworth and Albion Mallard located on their scouting trip. The leader, named only Oster, joined Max and Minerva at the summit.

“The sunrise never gets old,” he said, smiling at the yellow orb rising over the horizon. The nascent sunshine illuminated the view, and for the first time Max got his first glance at what lay beyond the mountains. Beyond the map, where no one in record history had gone before.

Water. It was all water. As far as the eye could see, stretching in all directions.

“The ocean,” he gasped. “This is the end of the continent.”

“Indeed,” Oster said. “This is it. You can go no further, except down to the shore.”

Far below them, at the base of the mountains on the other side, was a narrow plain connecting the mountain range to the ocean.

“We should go either right or left,” Minerva suggested. “The right looks more bountiful. I see trees in the distance.”

“That’s where the foxes would expect us to go,” Max noted. “They would make the same conclusion. We go left.”

Minerva nodded.

“It looks fertile. We can farm that land. Oster, have your people explored this area at all?”

“A little,” Oster replied. “It is moderately fertile down there. We use to have a few patches of vegetables at the base. I think Max is wise to head east—to the left, as you say. To my knowledge, no one lives beyond these mountains, so you will have a free choice of land.”

He stepped in front of them, blocking their view of the Southern Ocean.

“Heed this warning, my friends. What you’ve told me about the Vixen Queen and Vulpus leads me to believe that they *will* try to follow you and prove to the rest of Cartonia that no one can escape Vulpine authority. If they cannot find you, they will disseminate rumors of your deaths in the Dam’s collapse. You are almost off the map of the known universe, but that won’t stop the foxes any more than it’s stopped you. You must keep moving, as far as you possibly can, until you cannot run anymore. Only then will you know you cannot be followed. Only then can you be free.”

—4 Weeks Later—

Glaucous Oldman knew that this journey was going to kill him. He was already elderly, meant for retirement, not adventure. He was racked with guilt for being here when his brother and nephew, Sterling and Grayson, died at the Dam. Sterling had been the *King*. He deserved to be here more than Glaucous. With Sterling’s family destroyed, Glaucous was technically next in line for the throne.

Carolina Oldman, Glaucous’s wife, was in no better shape. She too was out of breath when they reached the base of the mountains. She was only a few years younger than him. Both of their healths were heavily depleted by the journey. They longed for a permanent settlement, for that final destination.

Before them was the Southern Ocean, a place only imagined but never visited. The group recovered from the descent, had lunch, then turned to the left and headed east.

—2 Months Later—

—*Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—August 23, 726—*

*Pam Kharita is a writer from Eusuchia, and an amateur cartographer. Over the last few days, I’ve gotten to know her well and she showed me a map she has drawn of the Expanse. It is immaculately detailed, even showing the buttes we passed in the desert. She has come to the conclusion from the positioning of the Eastern Ocean and the body of water we thought was the Southern Ocean that we are not near the Southern Ocean at all. In fact, it is a lake. An enormous continental lake, perhaps as large as the Expanse itself. She has dubbed it Lake Liberty.*

*So all the times I’ve called Lake Liberty the Southern Ocean heretofore must be discounted. The Unforgiving Mountains do not border the Southern Ocean at all, but instead Lake Liberty. I’ve never seen a body of water so large and have it not be an ocean. We’ve discussed the possibility that there might be an island on this lake, like Harmony Isle in the Gulf of Cartoon, that we could use as a haven. We do not have boats though, and may get lost at sea.*

*We are therefore traversing the passage between the Eastern Ocean and Lake Liberty. We have so far forded four thin rivers. The hope is that the other side of this lake is our new home.*

—October 1, 726—

Lake Liberty leaked to the Eastern Ocean in an undetermined number of tributaries and rivers. The passengers trekked across eight of these rivers before emerging on a grassy plain. It was verdant and beautiful, elevated toward the south. Thinking that high ground would be advantageous for a new civilization, the group headed in that direction. The plains bordered another mountain range, smaller than the Unforgiving Mountains but all the more treacherous. When they reached the summit, they discovered a glacier descending into a serene valley situated on cliffs.

The peninsula below them was a dead-end, but everyone just wanted to check to see if the peninsula was suitable for habitation. If not, they’d scale the mountains again and keep going along the southern edge of Lake Liberty.

Bella Mallard had never been colder than here on the glacier. It was slippery, and mostly ice. They had to chip away places for them to rest for the night. There was no way they could continue now that night had fallen. The other side was jagged and just as cold.

“I’m freezing,” Bella gasped, feeling the inside of her beak turn to ice. She had on ten or twelve blankets, plus her coat and gloves and hat. Her mother, Isadora, hugged her for warmth. Bella had fallen ill the last week, and the cold was not helping her recovery. She already had chills, and the weather was exacerbating her condition. Bosworth and Albion rubbed her to generate body heat. Bosworth’s son, Thomas, and Bella’s daughter, Emmeline, were shivering too.

“Here, Majesty,” Jeanette Kinnar, a former Senator and fellow duck-in-exile, said as she shrugged off every layer of her blankets. “Take mine.”

“I couldn’t,” Bella gasped. “We all need to stay warm.”

“I know, but you’re colder,” Jeanette insisted. She draped the additional blankets around Bella.

“You’ll be cold,” Bella said with concern. Jeanette shrugged.

“There are extras. I’ll fetch some. My priority is *you*.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Bella sighed. “I am no longer a Queen.”

Jeanette, who had become one of Bella’s closest friends as she came of age in exile as Queen of Mallardia. Jeanette Kinnar had served on the Senate of Mallardia, a small elected body that convened in the capital to advise the monarch of Mallardia. She was also a confidante of the late Emmeline of Capet, Bella’s great-grandmother.

“You are always a Queen, in my eyes,” Jeanette said gently. “I am honored to have been in your service.”

“You’re very kind,” Bella grinned.

Jeanette stood and wandered toward the supply area to find more blankets for herself. Miraculously, Bella fell asleep despite the cold.

As the sun rose over the glacier, and Bella awoke, she went to thank Jeanette again for the blankets. The former Senator was lying against one of the wagons without a single blanket. Her face was blue, and her skin was colder than the ice.

Bella screamed. Jeanette Kinnar had frozen to death.

—*Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—October 3, 726—*

*It has been an eventful two days. I did not write yesterday because I was in shock at the death of Jeanette Kinnar. She was a former Senator of Mallardia. The poor woman froze on the glacier. It has been named the Kinnar Glacier in her honor. We did not want to bury her body on the glacier in ice, so it was loaded onto one of the wagons and carried into the valley.*

*This area is very cold. It’s incredible how we are so far south and it’s frigid. The Oldman family has taken a liking to the area, and a few others, but not me. I love snow and the cold, but this is something else. Our mission yesterday was to explore this peninsula. Is it suitable for living? The mountains in the north give it a layer of natural protection, and it seems to be surrounded on the east and west by cliffs. We cannot tell precisely about the east, as dense forests cover that area.*

*Eventually, the snow ended and light soft wooded thickets replaced the icy undertow. We were hiking westward across this peninsula, and a total serenity overcame us. The breeze that blows gently through the trees rustled the leaves and you can almost hear a sound like singing. A melody, as Nicholas described it. The terrain dips as you edge closer to the west, and tall trees and dark clouds block out the sun, making it appear as if it is night. We cannot grow food without sun, so we left this place alone and returned to the melody land. Max and Minerva turned us south and up a  hill. From the perch, we could see that the peninsula declined toward the sea. Marshes are in the west, and those dense forests are in the east. It seemed like a good place to rest, and here we did. We buried Jeanette Kinnar on this hill.*

*Today the farmers took a few soil samples to gauge the fertility of the earth. Several others are investigating the marshes, and another team is traversing the eastern forests. One thing is for certain: the cliffs on either side will protect us from invasion. That leaves only the south open, the side that borders the ocean. This time, we are fairly certain this is the Southern Ocean.*

*Max, Minerva, and their team are currently down at the water. It was very foggy down there last night, but the fog rolled out in the morning. If this peninsula is deemed uninhabitable, then we’re going back up the mountains and continue our search.*

—

It was almost sunset. Maximilian Walters was ankle-deep in water awaiting the feedback from the day’s prospecting. So far, this place seemed nice, but Jeanette Kinnar’s death on the mountain cast a dark shadow over the peninsula, like an omen.

“Here they come,” Minerva Taylor indicated, herself up to her knees in the ocean. The two waded back to shore, where the three teams were converging.

“The soil is fertile,” one of the head farmers reported. “This is definitely farmable land. The marshes in the west not so much, but everywhere else yes.”

“Even that cold place by the glacier?” Minerva asked in shock. The farmer nodded.

“It’s cold, but underneath that snow is ripe soil.”

“You’re certain?” Max pressed. This was the first positive report in the farming aspect since their escape last year.

“Absolutely.”

A short mouse spoke about the dense forests in the east. He said it would be a good source of lumber, and that the entire eastern edge of the peninsula was sheer cliffs not unlike the Vixen Cliffs. The scarps abruptly dropped to sea level as they got closer to the southern tip of the peninsula.

“Same on the western edge,” one of the other parties added. “Cliffs wrapping around from the Kinnar Mountains to where we’re standing.”

The group got quiet. Minerva turned to Max.

“It sounds…habitable.”

Max’s stomach filled with butterflies, the prospect exciting him. Could this really be it? He heaved a sigh and faced the water.

“We have been running for a whole year. We are almost out of supplies, and winter is coming again. This place is protected in the north by mountains, and in the east and west by marshes, forests, and cliffs. The chipmunks and foxes both have formidable navies and may attempt a water invasion, right here. We’re not safe this close to the water.”

Max squinted at the ocean. The horizon appeared to be ringed by something. He at first thought it was just a mirage or byproduct of the fog, but the longer he stared the more convinced there was actually something there.

“Does anyone have a spyglass?”

“I do,” the head farmer said and passed him a copper looking glass. Max lifted it to his eyes and peered at the horizon.

“There’s crags…” he muttered. “Minerva, take a look.”

His counterpart grasped the tool and swung it across the ocean.

“You’re right. We’re surrounded. That’s another piece of natural protection.”

Something washed over Max like a tidal wave. It made his knees knock together and his paws tingle.

“Mountains to the north…” he thought aloud. “Cliffs in the west and the east…crags to the south encircling a bay. We…we’ve reached the bottom. This is it. There’s nowhere further we can run.”

He pressed a hand over his mouth and choked back tears, the significance of the moment catching up to him. “We can stop…”

Everyone was quiet, contemplating the miraculous implications. Then, Minerva placed her paws over her head and yelped in joy. The group erupted into united cheers as Max repeated loudly, “We can stop!”

“Thank the Gods!” a crocodile bellowed, lifting his arms to the sky. “We are free!”

—

At the center of the peninsula, where a temporary camp was set up while the organizers and farmers explored the area, the news that the expedition could finally stop moving hit the escapees like a bomb. Celebrations burst at once. Every musical instrument was utilized to flood the atmosphere with vibrant tunes of liberty and ecstasy.

Azure Oldman saw smiles on faces that had long been solemn. He saw people dance with one another, singing along to songs that crossed country lines. He witnessed pure happiness, mixed with relief and exhaustion. Tomorrow, when they all awoke, they would not have to worry about where they were heading next. This was it. The final destination. Their new home, their safe haven.

Azure had a hard time controlling his snow powers, as his emotions refused to mellow through the night. His wife, Celeste, waited until after the cacophonous yelling and whooping died down to pull Azure away from the party.

“I have something to tell you,” she said. Azure winced.

“I hope it’s not bad news…”

“No…” Celeste teased. “It’s um…rather good, I think. I am with child.”

It was in that moment that Azure became confident that they had truly found absolution.

—December 20, 726—

—2 Months Later—

Lana Loudoun felt out of place as she sat around a table with all the former monarchs and royals in the unfinished first floor of the new Town Hall. Max invited her, as apparently the royals were going to determine the new system of governance for the 500 survivors of the trek south. It didn’t surprise her, as monarchy and royalist sentiment was all anyone knew. Max and Minerva were leading the proceedings.

In the last two months since the party ceased their southern advance and broke dirt on their new home, builders were making record time in constructing homes. The Oldman family took residence at the edge of the snowy area in the north. It was unofficially known as the Brrrgh, a play on the words “Burg” for town and “brrr” for cold. The name was a running joke, and everyone agreed that a better name would be devised later. Most homes were being built in the town center, though groups were beginning to gravitate toward the place known as Melodyland and the area near the water, called Sealand. These four regions were developing unique identities and cultures, at a rapid pace in Lana’s opinion. She and Nicholas wanted to be near the others, and so they had submitted a request for their not-yet-constructed home to be based in the town center.

As a representative at this meeting and a spokesperson for the pigs, Lana took her role seriously. She briefly met with the other fifty or so pigs on the expedition and sought their opinions. What kind of government did they want to see? What kind of future?

“Here’s my suggestion,” Max proposed after opening remarks. “We reinstate the Harmony Crown between the twelve remaining species, or the nine remaining royal families. This system was proven to work in the centuries leading up to the war. Instead of separate kingdoms, we’ll all be one community with a rotating line of succession. The crown moves to a different head every ten years, just as before.”

Lana shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Something about reverting to the old system didn’t sit right with her.

“Works for me,” Glaucous Oldman said with a yawn.

“And me,” Jasiri Tatum stated. “It’s what’s easiest.”

The others in the room—Minerva Taylor, Daisy Mus, Mizzie Mercury, Thumper Connelly, Nilia Hotep, Navarra Caligari, and Lana—were silent. Lana wished inwardly that they wouldn’t succumb to groupthink. But unlike all the others, Lana was not raised in royalty and felt out of place. Over the last twelve months from the capital of Canis across the Expanse, royal lines became blurred. Commoners such as Nicholas mingled casually with royalty like Farress Nilia. It was apparent that the 500 remaining refugees considered themselves equals, and would not feel right elevating royals back into hereditary positions of power that would inherently outrank the others.

“I’m against the idea,” Daisy Mus shared. “It worked in Cartonia, but I don’t see how it would apply here. There are so few of us. We won’t be creating new Kingdoms.”

“There must be something else we could try,” Bella Mallard pondered.

Mizzie Mercury stood to address the assembly.

“Perhaps a republic, as Simeone had been after Queen Ana’s assassination?”

Nilia raised a scaly finger, her face still covered by a lace black veil of mourning for her two long-dead sons.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that Simeone was not exactly the republic Ham Mercury declared it to be. He was, in essence, a King. He served for life as Major and you would have inherited the title had he died.”

Mizzie sat back down, deflated.

“I just meant that we could rule without royalty. That’s all a republic is.”

“Sure,” Thumper Connelly added, “but it would probably be best if power rotated every ten years or so, like Max suggested. What if we held elections?”

“Like for legislative bodies?” Max asked. “Yes, that could work. We had that in a regional form in Canis. I’m sure most of your nations had some sort of elected assembly.”

Everyone nodded, including Lana. In Porcinia, there was a small council of three pigs that were chosen by the people. They would debate minor local issues and present them to the King’s councils monthly.

“Alright,” Minerva announced, sketching a diagram on the table with marker. “Any government has the executive and legislative branches. The executive serves as head of state, and in Cartonia that was always the monarch—or the Major. The legislative was often appointed by the monarch or by the nobles across the nation. We don’t have nobles, and it doesn’t sound like anyone wants a monarch. Correct?”

“I do!” Glaucous Oldman cried. “Monarchy is stability. We’d be lost without it.”

“Glaucous is right,” Max agreed. “If power keeps changing at the highest level, there will be unrest.”

“It’ll be chaos,” Jasiri added.

“For the record,” Mizzie Mercury said, “I do *not* want a monarchy. It would not work for a community this small. We are but a town.”

Lane stuck her trotter in the air. The others stared at her.

“Yes, Lana?” Max called on her.

“Um,” Lana stammered, “I lived in a town for most of my life. Ripper, Porcinia. It had a population of about this size. We had a Magistrate and a council of four. The Magistrate broke the tie if the council could not decide. All positions were elected by the people. There was never unrest, nor was there chaos.”

The table was quiet, though Daisy Mus and Mizzie Mercury were beaming at her.

“That sounds perfect to me!” Bella Mallard exclaimed with a slap of her flipper on the table.

“We had a similar system in our towns in Simeone,” Mizzie explained. “It is where my father got the idea for the republic’s system of government. And to an earlier point, my father never had the opportunity to convert Simeone in to the republic he had envisioned due to the war. He remained in power for the stability of the war effort and for his relationships with those in the Granite Bloc.”

“This is ridiculous,” Glaucous blurted. “A council ruling without a monarch? Absurd. It’ll never work.”

The debate continued for hours, running Lana ragged. She became more comfortable among these people as the night went on, and she began advocating for her system earnestly. The fragile state of monarchical alliances and the failure of the Harmony Crown led in one way or another to the war. The one thing everyone could agree on was that future generations must be spared the atrocity of war. Max, Jasiri, and Glaucous were the only three that fervently wanted a monarch. Jasiri was swayed when he realized that the executive branch would be headed by someone who had the same powers of a monarch, and that position was not just a tiebreaker. Max eventually withdrew his hesitations, citing that he shouldn’t have a vote in the matter anyway since he believed the royals should decide. Minerva chided him for that, since he more than anyone should have a say for his role in the escape.

“There are four regions of this town so far,” Thumper Connelly noted. “The town center, Melodyland, Sealand, and…the Brrrgh.”

Everyone snickered at the unofficial name for the cold region.

“One councillor per region?” Daisy suggested.

“And a Major presiding over the council and the town as a whole,” Mizzie interjected.

“We had something similar in small towns in Eusuchia,” Nilia chimed in. “Although the Eusuchian translation is Mayor.”

Lana pointed at the Farress.

“I like that.”

Glaucous Oldman scowled.

“If we *must* do this elected…Mayor…then the council should be appointed by the newly-elected Mayor. I will not budge on this. Too much democracy will lead to total collapse.”

Max was taking notes. At the top of page, Lana saw he wrote “Town Constitution.”

“We must take precautions against a tyrant,” Minerva said. “The elected Mayor cannot rule for life.”

“Ten years is fine,” Bella remarked.

“My father originally suggested terms of three years,” Mizzie commented.

For some reason, this specific part of the government took a whole hour to discuss. There were some who wanted one single term of a decade, while others thought that was too long. Lana suggested two five-year terms, but even that was disagreed upon. Mizzie and Bella liked the three-year term, while Nilia, Lana, and Daisy preferred five. Ultimately, they compromised on four years, with a two-term maximum. A Mayor could therefore only serve for eight consecutive years total, or two non-consecutive terms.

Lana felt extremely important at this table as the framework for the future town was developed. If this was done correctly, if this was well-received, then the system could remain in place for hundreds of years. Unless, of course, the foxes returned and found them.

And inwardly, Lana believed that would be the case. Once the war was over, Vulpus would explore the Expanse. Traces of the party would be found, and this town would be discovered. If not soon, then eventually.

“What do we even call this place?” Max asked, looking up from his notes. The longest period of silence followed. Everyone just looked at one another, searching for ideas. Great weight was carried in a name, especially for this place, the only permanent society like it beyond Cartonia.

“New Cartonia?” Glaucous suggested.

“Harmonyville,” Navarra Caligari threw out.

“Maybe just Harmony?”

“Peaceland!”

“Lovetown,” Thumper said with a shrug.

“Granite Town.”

“*Better* Cartonia.”

“Granitia!”

“Peninsula.”

“Cartoontown,” Minerva submitted, “after the Gulf of Cartoon where Harmony Isle was located. That’s the origin of the Harmony Crown and the advent of peace back home.”

“Toontown,” Thumper muttered to himself. Max grinned.

“I like Toontown.”

“As do I,” Jasiri agreed.

Max wrote the name on his page.

“Then we’re no longer Cartonians,” Minerva murmured. “We are Toons.”

The congregates nodded in unison as their future was solidified. Removing their Cartonian identifiers separated them from their past. Lana already felt her Porcinian heritage slipping away. It would have no bearing on the future of Toontown. They were never going to go back.

*I am a Toon*, she told herself, finding comfort and excitement in the moniker.

“I’d like to add something,” Thumper said, clearing his throat. “Interspecies and same-sex relationships are absolutely permitted. Write that down.”

Max’s pen remained poised. Glaucous leaned toward Thumper.

“Same-sex…?”

“Yes,” Thumper insisted. “There will be no limitations on love here. We know the ban on interspecies relationships played a direct role in the outbreak of war, and I don’t see why same-sex couples should be denied the honor of loving another.”

Bella clapped her flippers.

“Absolutely. I’m with Thumper.”

“As am I,” Daisy Mus assented.

Lana and Nilia both raised hands in the affirmative. Lana personally saw no issue with it.

“Oh, this is nonsense!” Jasiri cried. “Not the interspecies part, but gay love? There aren’t any gay people here.”

“I’m gay,” Thumper said bluntly. Jasiri’s face blushed. He dipped his head and mumbled something only Minerva could hear. She *tsked* in his direction.

“We have his vote,” she said to the group. “And you have mine.”

Glaucous rolled his eyes and nodded. A heavy exhale came from Thumper as Max scrawled the addition to the paper.

Max finished the first draft of the town constitution, and the next day the assembly of royals read the proposal from the steps of the renamed Toon Hall.

Though certain elements were met with mild resistance, the framework of government was well-received and the first Toon Elections were planned.

—Christmas Day—

—5 Days Later—

The Connelly house was about half-completed. Thumper and Evangelina lived together, ready to start anew. The house was located only a short distance from Toon Hall on the town’s first street. The architect envisioned it being a big circle around the town center, and so it was being called Loopy Lane. Thumper loved the names for the places in Toontown. They were often silly, a stark contrast to the omnipresent seriousness of Cartonia.

Neither Thumper nor Evangelina knew what they were going to do for occupation once the town was up and running. They had never held a job outside of their royal duties. Thumper wanted nothing to do with the new government. Evangelina suggested that he form a coalition of the other gay people in town, which he would consider if there *were* other gay people around. He knew of no others.

The concept of separating oneself from Cartonia was becoming a popular trend. People shed their old titles, condemned Cartonian practices, advocated against war and monarchy, and even changed their names. Thumper and Evangelina found the idea of a name-change appealing. Their surname was the most important part of that, as the Connelly name would always remind everyone around them that they were royal. Neither of them wanted to be treated any differently for the circumstances of their birth. Everyone in this town was equal, and no one was ranked above another.

Thumper and Evangelina adopted the surname Wolfe, after the ancient species that evolved into dogs. Thumper went a step further and changed his first name too. Thumper was a distinct name and easily recognizable. He settled on Charlie Bentley Wolfe, after his great-grandfather Charlie and his brother Bentley.

The first Toon election was set for December 31. The following day, January 1, would be considered the first day of Year 1 in Toontown.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Evangelina Wolfe greeted as she headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. She knew to leave him alone, as Christmas always reminded him of Victoria and Benny. There may have never been a war had the two been permitted to marry. But perhaps the Vixen Queen would have found a way no matter what.

Charlie Bentley Wolfe closed his eyes and sighed.

—December 31, 726—

Election Day brought an atmosphere of excitement to the Toons of Toontown. The sole ballot box was located in Toontown Central—the new name for the town center—and anyone except children could vote.

Amin Hotep waited in line to cast his vote. Anyone could vote for anybody, though the odds-on favorite for the first Mayor was Maximilian Walters. He was the organizer of the entire expedition and had already served as their leader since the escape from Cartonia. Max himself did not seem keen on the idea of becoming the first Mayor. He tried to campaign for some of the other royals, such as the wise and elder Glaucous Oldman. Amin was undeterred, however. Max was the best choice, hands-down.

Amin was behind two farmers in line, and a family of bears stood in the back of him. Since arriving here, no one bowed to him. No one called him “Your Highness.” He was equal to everyone, and he liked that. It felt right. Many monarchs had even changed their surnames to remove the royal dynasty connotation. The Mallards were now the Beckers. The Musses were now the Amblersons. The Connellys were now the Wolfes. Amin and his mother discussed the idea, but ultimately decided against changing their surname of Hotep. In Eusuchia, the last name of the royal family was hardly ever used. The dynasties were numbered, and Amin’s had been the Sixth Dynasty. The Oldmans did not change theirs either. Glaucous was a traditional man and categorically refused any alterations.

Amin reached the front of the line. Evangelina Wolfe was serving as a poll worker. She handed Amin a ballot and pen.

“First, answer the question at the top of the ballot.”

Amin read it over:

*Do you consent to the adoption of the Toontown Constitution as written?*

A copy of the drafted document was to the right of the polling station. Amin was familiar with it, and he bubbled in “yes.”

“Now write in the name of the Toon you’d like to elect Mayor.”

Amin wrote out Max’s name, folded the paper, and dropped it into the ballot box. Evangelina took the pen and called the next person in line.

As Amin headed out of Toon Hall, he heard scattered gasps and whispers. Everyone was looking toward Sealand, and Amin immediately saw what was catching everyone’s attention.

It was Nilia, his mother. She was heading for the polls, her face uncovered. She had taken off her veil. She was not wearing black. Thirteen years of mourning for her two dead sons had finally ended.

“Mother,” Amin gasped, hastening over to her. “You’ve removed your veil.”

Her face had never looked more beautiful. She smiled at him.

“It is a new beginning, and we are meant to be happy here. It is a choice, to be happy. For your brothers, I make that choice. Now, show me where I vote.”

—January 1, Year 1—

Minerva Taylor found Max sitting on the sand overlooking the Bay of Toontown. She startled him with her approach.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he mumbled. She sat next to him.

“The votes are all counted. You won in a landslide.”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

Max sighed. He removed his glasses and pressed his paws against his eyes. Minerva noticed tears. “Have you been crying?” she asked, putting a paw gently on his arm. Max swallowed.

“I can hear them…” he whispered.

“Who?” Minerva pressed.

“The ones we left behind,” Max replied. He was staring across the Bay. “They’re screaming. Can’t you hear them?”

Minerva listened, but only heard the soft crash of the waves.

“We’ll never know what happened after we left,” Minerva remarked. “The war may have already ended, or it’s still going on. We will be denied that closure in our isolation.”

“The war is therefore never over,” Max noted. “It will be raging forever.”

He turned to her. “You really can’t hear them? Listen. Their screams are traveling on the water. They are begging for help.”

Minerva strained to hear, but once again could only hear the natural noises of Sealand. She checked her watch.

“Come on, Max. They’re expecting you at Toon Hall for the inauguration. It’s going to begin soon.”

Max groaned.

“I’m too old to be Mayor.”

Minerva glared at him.

“Max, you won with over 90% of the vote. You didn’t campaign for yourself once. You have been our natural leader since you devised the plan out of Cartonia.”

“Lionel gave me the idea…”

“And you ran with it. Whether you like it or not, everyone here looks up to you. There was only one logical choice, and you will be an exceptional Mayor. Of that I am absolutely certain.”

Max returned his gaze to the ocean, and he sighed once more.

“Do you think they’ll come for us?”

Minerva hesitated before saying, “Yes.”

“Me too,” Max muttered. “Perhaps not for some time, but our escape will always be known. The collapse of the Dam assures that. Whether or not we survived will become a topic of debate, and one day the foxes will make their way down here. And then…”

“Max,” Minerva interrupted, “we really must go.”

The former historian of Canis nodded and stood, shaking the sand off his pants. Minerva hooked her arm around his, and they began the walk toward Toontown Central.

—

Lana and Nicholas got to Toon Hall early to get a good spot at the inauguration. They were standing near the front of the crowd. The massive building—the largest in Toontown—was still under construction but now the words “Toon Hall” had been mounted to the front.

It was late afternoon, almost sunset. It was a cold winter day but everyone was so eager and joyous that no one noticed. Lana leaned against Nicholas, watching as the inauguration committee finalized preparations.

When it was time, Nilia Hotep addressed the crowd. She was the head of the inauguration committee and would be swearing everyone in. While royalty and monarchy had been nominally abolished, it seemed fitting that at least some former ruler did the swearing-in. Of all the reigning monarchs that came to Toontown, she had reigned the longest. 45 years.

The concept of an inauguration arose during that constitution meeting that Lana attended. A private coronation was inappropriate for their new system of government. Inaugurations existed in Cartonia for locally-elected positions and the style was adopted for Toontown’s.

“Good evening, my fellow Toons!” Nilia shouted. They didn’t have microphones or speakers, so she just had to shout. Her voice was strong and carried across the crowd. All 500 Toons were here. No one would dare miss this. “Welcome to the first inauguration in Toontown! Yesterday, we the Toons cast our votes for the first Mayor of Toontown. We also voted on whether or not to adopt the constitution as drafted by the monarchs and royals from our homeland. This constitution was approved with 99% of the vote.”

There were a few cheers, and Lana was happy with the constitution. It was a solid framework, and had the ability to be amended if necessary.

“Earning 91% of the vote,” Nilia went on, “Maximilian Walters has been elected to serve as the inaugural Mayor of Toontown. Join me in congratulating Max on this honor!”

The crowd roared with applause. Max emerged from Toon Hall and waved. Lana stuck her trotters in her mouth and whistled loudly. She had voted for him, of course. There was no one better.

Nilia beckoned to Max, and he joined her at the foot of the crowd.

“Max, dear, please tell us who you have appointed to serve on the first Toon Council.”

Max flashed a quick smile at the crowd and began rattling off names on his fingers.

“From Toontown Central, I have appointed Minerva Taylor. From Sealand, I have chosen Bosworth Becker. From Melodyland, Daisy Amblerson. And from the Brrrgh, Glaucous Oldman.”

A former Queen, a Prince, a Royal Historian, and a King. It was not surprising that Max chose almost all royals, as he was a staunch royalist. He believed they inherently held the know-how to rule. Lana imagined that would change in future, as fewer royals remained. It was a tad odd to hear Daisy Mus and Bosworth Mallard referred to by their new surnames, but many had changed their identities here. Lana couldn’t bring herself to alter anything that Mom had chosen, and so her name was held constant.

“Before we swear in our Mayor and Council,” Nilia boomed, “I would like to invite the Children of Toontown to the front, led by Evangelina Wolfe.”

Evangelina was not really a child, but she was the eldest of the younger generation. Anya and Tatyana Mus—now Amblerson—joined her, along with Card and Binti Tatum and dozens of others. Evangelina was carrying something tucked to her chest.

“Mister Mayor,” Evangelina declared to Max, trying to mask her huge smile, “and the Toon Council, we the Children of Toontown have designed for this occasion the first flag of Toontown.”

Tatyana and Anya both grabbed an end and the flag was unfolded. It must have been sewn by hand, and as it was revealed the crowd cheered with delight. It was vibrantly colorful. A purple canton in the upper-left corner held a white six-pointed star. Twelve alternating red, yellow, blue and green stripes filled out the rest of the field.

Evangelina explained the design. The twelve stripes represented the twelve species comprising Toontown’s population and the four changing colors were meant to represent the four regions of Toontown. The purple canton was indicative of peace and the six-pointed star was to mimic the old flag of Cartonia, a reminder of their first home.

Two members of the inauguration committee brought the flag into the unfinished Toon Hall, and raised it to the top of the flagpole. The symbol of their new home billowed in the wind.

“With our new constitution,” Nilia said to the crowd, “our new government, and our new flag, we hereby consecrate this place as Toontown!”

Nilia brought Daisy, Bosworth, Minerva, and Glaucous forward so they could be sworn in alongside Max. They had been informed ahead of time of their appointments, and were dressed for the part. Glaucous was even wearing his war uniform. Nilia had each of them swear an oath on the constitution, and placed a sash around their heads. Each of the four sashes was colored to represent the region they represented—red for Toontown Central, green for Sealand, yellow for Melodyland, and blue for the Brrrgh. An emblem was embroidered on the sashes as well. The idea was to appear professional, but Lana thought they looked regal. Once sworn in, the council sat in chairs while Max and Nilia remained standing.

The moment had come. Max approached Nilia and faced her. She held out the written constitution, and Max soberly placed his palm upon it. He raised his free hand. Behind them, the setting sun dipped into an opening in the frame of Toon Hall, and crepuscular sunshine radiated through. The pair was illuminated in an auspicious aura. Lana clutched Nicholas’s trotter as Nilia guided Max through the recitation of the oath of office.

“I, Maximilian Walters, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully and impartially execute the office of Mayor of Toontown with dignity, integrity, valor, and justice. I will not let my vision be clouded by forces that would do us harm. I will protect Toontown until my dying breath. This I do swear.”

A period of silence followed as the people marveled at the passing of this epoch, the first step on their journey as Toons of Toontown. Even the new set of leaders held their breaths, Max’s hands still poised.

“Congratulations, Maximilian Walters!” Nilia exclaimed at last, “You are the first Mayor of Toontown!”

The crowd cheered in jubilation. Lana gave Nicholas’s trotter another squeeze, and with her other clasped her diary. Within its unremarkable binding and pages contained not only her personal story, but the history of her homeland as it was lurched into damnation. The somber initiating tale of two lovers kept at bay by tradition and precedent, and the ensuing crisis that tipped every domino and invoked every alliance until nowhere peaceful remained.

From that darkest layer of perdition came the birth of this expedition, an unparalleled liberation that ferried the fortunate few beyond the reach of war-ravaged Cartonia to the southernmost tip of the continent. Here, they established a new society with the promise that war would never return, that all would be accepted, that peace and justice and love would reign above all else.

On this the first day of their new calendar, with an infant government prepared to forge a strong and poignant history, and a people united as one entity under the flag of their haven, everything was rewritten.

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

Lake Beyond was first mentioned in the season 3 premiere “They Came From the North.” The body of water also appears on the full map of Cartonia.

Lana Loudoun’s diary entry largely recaps the events of “Bless My Homeland.”

Thumper and Evangelina wondered if Bentley Connelly survived, unaware he had been executed in “Bless My Homeland.”

Daisy Mus reflected on the murder of her father and family, which occurred in “Lest We Forget.”

Season 1 episodes “Doomsday” and “Evil Incarnate (Part One)” made reference to a colony north of Toontown to which many Toons over the years had fled, such as Marie and Albert Avogadro. This colony was located in the Unforgiving Mountains, and run by foxes. Lana Loudoun excluded the foxes from her diary, which would explain why future generations would regard the colony as a place of refuge. In fact, in “Doomsday,” the Toon Council names the northern colony as their chosen place of refuge to flee the Cogs.

Navarra Caligari provided the namesake for the Unforgiving Mountains, remarking on their treacherous terrain.

Lake Liberty was first mentioned in “Silent Night,” and in several subsequent episodes as the body of water north of Toontown.

Jeanette Kinnar’s death on the glacier was explained in the season 2 episode “Trial of the Lawbots;” hence the names Kinnar Glacier and Kinnar Mountains.

Nearly a year after the Cartonians escaped, they reached the site that would become Toontown.

Celeste Oldman reported her pregnancy to Azure Oldman. The birth of their child was depicted in the season 1 episode “The Blizzard Wizards.”

The Docks were originally named Sealand because there were no docks at first.

Several of the royal families shed their surnames for common names, in order to distance themselves from their royal pasts. All of these changed surnames (Wolfe, Becker, Amblerson) appeared in “Song of the Siren” and “Out of the Frying Pan” in the letter Maximilian Walters wrote about the royal heirs in the town.

After thirteen years of mourning, beginning in “Remnants of the People,” Farress Nilia removed her veil.

The inauguration of Maximilian Walters, known to be the last entry in the Diary of War (before the removal of pages), occurred on the first day of Year 1.

The oath of office for Mayor of Toontown previously appeared in the second season episode “Trouble,” but the last line had changed over the years.

The final word of the episode is a tie-in to the title of the first season: Rewritten.

### References

Toontown’s first street is called Loopy Lane, a reference to the road of the same name in the game.

The inauguration is based loosely on American Presidential inaugurations.

## Trivia

* The title of this episode and its predecessor "Bless My Homeland" comes from the song "Stay, I Pray You" from the Broadway musical *Anastasia*. The song in the musical is sung by Russians fleeing the new Soviet Union and bidding their homeland farewell: "Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all / I'll bless my homeland / **till I die**."
	+ The line was quoted by Lana Loudoun in her first diary entry since escaping Cartonia, reflecting on her mother's legacy: "*She will be a part of **until I die**."*
	+ The episodes of the finale were originally going to be titled "Coachmen Hold the Carriage" and "Stay, I Pray You," using lyrics from the same song. It was ultimately changed toward the end of the writing process.
	+ The song "Stay, I Pray You" was used in the finale trailer.
* This episode has the fewest appendix entries in the season, with only two.
* The valleys and arches of the Expanse are based on Arches National Park in Utah.
* The Expanse’s landscape is widely based on the Badlands in South Dakota.
* The scene with the Vixen Queen’s body was added last minute, the week before publication.
* Oster’s name is taken from the German word for “Austria:” “Österreich” His husband’s name (Polen) comes from the German word for “Poland.”
* Throughout the season, there have been multiple references to the Grand Library of Phantine. This is because a pivotal scene at that Library was in the first draft of “Hollow Crown,” but the Christmas special was written after all other episodes, and when that scene was cut, the references remained.
* Pam Kharita’s name is “map” spelled backwards and “map” in Arabic.
* Lake Liberty is based on Lake Tahoe.
* Jeanette Kinnar’s inclusion in the season was to tie in the story of how the glacier and mountains above Toontown got their name. Her role in the series was meant to be much larger, but most of her planned storylines were replaced by Emmeline of Capet.
* The devising of Toontown’s constitution is based on the drafting of the United States Constitution.
* Dreamland and the Gardens do not appear as neighborhoods because they came later.
* This is the only episode of the season to be set outside Cartonia.
* At 14,720 words, this is the fourth longest episode of Storytime.