Blood for Blood

**"Blood for Blood"**is the seventeenth episode of *War* and the 66th episode overall.

The episode was published on April 18, 2021.

In the episode, the elephants of Phantine give everything they have to defend their capital.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 721**B:** Timeline of the War, 708-713**C:** Timeline of the War, 715-720**D:** Phantish Royal Family, 721**E:** Capricovian Royal Family, 721**F:** Castle in the Marshes, Nchi Ya Tembo, Phantine
## The Episode

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*-March 13, 721-*

*This entry comes at a bad time, as this morning was mixed with joy and grief. Nicholas and I were given the keys to our new cabin, which is part of the new construction. Mom will be allowed to keep the same cabin we’ve occupied together as opposed to being moved into a single. Sergeant O called it “founder’s privilege.” Nicholas and I already had everything packed and ready to go, but the move was interrupted by breaking news in Leprolia. King Cottontail IX, one of Cartonia’s oldest monarchs, passed peacefully in his sleep. The crown passes to his son, Sterling Oldman, who has already adopted the regnal name Cottontail X. The tenth Cottontail dynast of the nation.*

*The late King of Leprolia died surrounded by most of his family, with the most glaring exception being his grandson Azure Oldman. He is reported to be living in Canis, though I don’t know why. The King’s final words were “Live Leprolia.” It is being interpreted as a final plea to the country to withstand the crushing forces of Cervidium and Vulpus closing in. The capital is days away from falling. Sergeant O herself told me later this afternoon that the Leprolian royal family has fled Sylvia to the northern tip of the country. From there, they will try to hold the remnants of the territory together before it is fully annexed.*

*The Summer Sun is also weeks away from being upon Nchi Ya Tembo, the capital of Phantine. I don’t know which will fall first, but I do think at this point it is inevitable. I’ve always thought that something has to give, and I am coming to the realization that it may very well be us.*

—Ngome Katika Mabwawa, Nchi Ya Tembo, Phantine—

—The Castle in the Marshes—

—Kingdom of the Elephants—

-April 18, 721-

Exactly 36 years ago, Waarheid Tatum’s father died of sudden heart failure and the throne of Phantine became Waarheid’s. He ascended to the apex of the Kingdom of Phantine as the Babar. He wasn’t even married. His mother had perished years prior, and he had no siblings. He remembered the fear and trepidation at the great task before him. Every year on April 18, the day of his ascension, he so easily recalled that anxiety and uncertainty. It was as palpable as the memory of his coronation was vibrant.

And yet, all that paled in comparison to this year. The fear he felt now was real, and raw. Vulpus was closing in on the capital, and was expected to arrive within days. The marshes surrounding Nchi Ya Tembo would slow them down, but only just. If the elephants wanted to retain control of their own country, they would have to fight back. The war may have turned in the Summer Sun’s favor, but that did not mean it was over.

Waarheid felt parts of him wither away as razed villages, destroyed homes, bombed communities, and mass slayings of innocent citizens plagued his morning briefings. It had taken over a decade for the Summer Sun to breach Phantine’s border. When it first happened, Waarheid was confident they would easily expunge them from the land. But that never transpired. The day Vulpus crossed into Phantish territory was the death knell for life as they knew it.

It became apparent that a stand would have to be made at the Castle in the Marshes, which the foxes would have to capture if they wanted to proceed north. Controlling the Marshes would essentially control the country. Waarheid, once the most ardent advocate for peace in the early days of this war, knew that violence would have to be matched with violence. He ordered the southern marshes to be rigged with explosives, bombs, traps, and other horrific modes of automated killing to halt and eliminate the invaders. The army would then pick off the survivors.

War had corrupted the Babar’s heart. He could feel it darkening within his chest as each military decision left his desk. This was not the world that he grew up in. War seemed impossible all those years ago, even after Queen Vixen was enthroned with the Harmony Crown. The assassination of Victoria Vixen, a lifetime ago, was just a tragedy then. How quickly it devolved into a situation of international chaos.

Waarheid patted the framed picture of his father, which rested on his desk. His untimely death was for the longest time Phantine’s greatest sadness. Now, with countless soldiers buried around Cartonia, too many families had too much to mourn.

The phone intercom clicked.

“*Babar*,” the secretary said in native Olifaans, “the troops are ready for you.”

“I’ll be right out.”

The Babar lifted his army cap onto his brow, square between his ears. He took the baton off the desk and hastened through the door. His twin sons, Nguvu and Jasiri, were waiting for him. They were wearing general uniforms, just like their father. Both had turned 30 last month. Not only were they identical in appearance, but very much so in life. They married the same year, and their children were only months apart in age. Nguvu was born first, by only a minute, and so he was the heir apparent.

“Where’s your mother?” Waarheid asked his sons.

“Addressing the army,” Jasiri answered. “They love her.”

Waarheid couldn’t help but smile at that. Indeed, the Babarina was exceptionally popular with the people.

The three royals approached the balcony of the Castle overlooking the plaza across the moat. The whole area was swampy, and Phantish soldiers were equipped with special boots to prevent their feet getting wet or muddy. The Castle in the Marshes was unique in that it was located far from the actual capital city. It served as the gateway to Nchi Ya Tembo, “elephant land” in Cartonian. The Babar made frequent trips north to the city itself for government business. The Castle in the Marshes was predominantly a royal residence, as opposed to most other palaces that dualed as both residence and seat of government.

On the balcony, Babarina Malkia was laughing along with the soldiers in the plaza. A feathery plume exploded from the top of her army helmet, tumbling down across her shoulders.

“…and who *are* these foxes to come here? They are uninvited guests. They mean to trample us and take our country by storm. Well, my countrymen, have you ever seen an elephant be trampled?”

The laughter continued. She had galvanized them. Joining her on the balcony were her grandchildren. Nguvu’s son Kadi, and Jasiri’s daughter Binti.

“They shouldn’t be here,” Waarheid muttered to his sons while they waited for Malkia to finish her speech and yield to the Babar.  “I still think you need to get them out. If this castle falls siege…”

“*Baba*,” Nguvu chided, “you lack faith in our troops. This castle with withstand any siege.”

“Bricks and stones may hold,” Waarheid hissed, “but hunger will erode. Take the children.”

Nguvu and Jasiri glanced at each other.

“We have already decided to stay together,” Jasiri insisted, “and fight.”

Waarheid glanced at Kadi and Binti, both only seven years old. They were clapping for the Babarina, their grandmother. Kadi was better known by the Cartonian translation of his name: Card.

“My fellow elephants,” Malkia boomed, “you have come to this Castle to defend the keystone of Phantine and finally end the so-called unstoppable wave of Vulpine advancement. You are not alone, for every single person in this Castle stands with you. Including the Babar of Phantine. Brave souls of the Phantish army, may I present Babar Waarheid?”

Malkia bowed as she turned, the feather plume dipping over her face. Babar Waarheid took his cue and approached the edge of the balcony, so that all in the plaza across the moat could see him.

The area surrounding the Castle was flat, and one could see all the way to the horizon. There was nothing except the Marshes. The Castle was well-protected in its visibility. Far south, hidden in the marshes, were the bombs and traps the Babar had ordered.

The marshes were green and yellow, verdant and sunny shades amongst the pale blue of the water. The troops were nearly completely surrounding the Castle, their eyes turned upward to the royal balcony. The elephants were joined on the periphery by forces from Canis and Ursus, though the predominant makeup of the crowd was elephants. Waarheid held himself up straight, as his father taught him, to appear commanding to his forces.

“I thank the Babarina for her introductory remarks, and I humbly and sincerely thank each of you for your service thus far and your answer to the call for help defending our capital. It is a situation that I wish none of us would have to live to see. But there is a great evil on this continent, and it is the Vulpus Kingdom. The Vixen Queen has made it her personal mission to conquer and colonize this country, and there is no one but us to defend it. We will fight them until there is nothing left in us, until we are completely drained and defeated. But that day will not come, I tell you, for we have a resolve and a fire burning within our hearts that will scorch the Vixen Queen and her blind followers. We will cut them down in the fields, in the marshes, and in the trenches. The Kingdom will dismantle, and Vulpus will never threaten us again. Our blood will be met with twice as much of theirs.”

The soldiers lifted their weapons.

“Blood for blood!” they cried.

—Vulpus Dam, Vulpus—

-One Day Later-

At regular intervals, the Vixen Queen took an armored convoy from Vista to the Vixen Cliffs, where the nation’s gold and gem mines were housed. The precious stones not only bolstered the Vulpine economy but also was the major funder for the Summer Sun. The foxes had maintained since the very beginning of the Kingdom that the wealth buried in the Cliffs was minimal.

But this was untrue. No one needed to know of the nation’s vast deposits.

Queen Vixen VII paused at the observation tower located in the enormous underground mining cavern. The miners were scattered throughout the chasm, hacking away at the cliff walls and pulling out the stones. The work required too much precision for machines to be used. Even now, with the war rapidly turning in the Summer Sun’s favor and the Vixen Queen set for total domination, she dared not draw attention to the drilling. This was a clandestine site, and once held the training grounds for her army in the years before the war began.

“There’s a cache of amethyst at Site 11,” the mine’s overseer boasted. “Would Your Majesty care to see it?”

“Site 11 is out of my way,” the Vixen Queen replied curtly. “We’re going east toward the Dam.”

“Ah,” the overseer muttered with disappointment, “perhaps some other time.”

The Queen visited the mines for no other reason than to see the gold herself. She derived great pleasure from seeing it pulled from the cliffs in what seemed like never-ending repetition. There had never once been a deficit in all of Vulpus’s history. The mines now extended nearly all the way to the base of the cliffs, all internally of course. No work was conducted on the surface or along the sheer side of the Cliffs.

“Majesty?” the Queen’s aide murmured. “The siege in Phantine is due to begin tomorrow morning. Perhaps we should return to Vista?”

The Vixen Queen nodded and left without any formal farewell to the blubbering overseer. They took the elevator to the surface and rebounded the convoy. The Queen gave the order to drive.

The car wove along the serpentine backroads toward the highway that curved around the Vulpus Reservoir. As they passed the simple gate toward the Vulpus Dam, the Vixen Queen glanced out the window in its direction.

Before the war, Vulpus supplied drinking water for over 60% of the continent’s population, with the Vulpus Reservoir the main contributor. The Vixen Queen assumed that once that water was cut off, many nations of the Granite Bloc would crumble. She did not expect everyone to desalinate seawater or tap into natural aquifers within their own borders. Now, the Reservoir was at full capacity and precious water was being jettisoned into the vast Expanse beyond the Cliffs. All the storage facilities across the country were full too. A water surplus was no curse, just an inconvenience. They were building storage units for the excess water in annexed Mallardia, Willie, and Capricon.

The new states of Vulpus.

The Vixen Queen smiled to herself as the cars rushed back to the capital of her budding empire.

—The Castle in the Marshes, Nchi Ya Tembo, Phantine—

—April 20, 721—

-1 Day Later-

Babarina Malkia was awoken by the sound of music far from the castle, but close enough to be heard. The Babar was already at the window, his face drawn in grim concentration. Malkia strained her large elephant ears to make out the tune, but she could only hear what sounded like an organ. She knew that was not the case, as no soldier would march into battle with such a wieldy instrument.

“What is that?” Malkia asked. Waarheid turned to her and inhaled.

“It’s the foxes’ Ballad of War.”

Malkia’s body went cold.

“Ballad?”

“They play it before major battles. It’s purposefully unnerving. It means they’re here. I must go to the army.”

Malkia caught his arm as he passed the bed.

“No, you don’t have to go. The army is fighting for you. You can stay here. We’ll defend the castle.”

Waarheid wrenched his arm away, though he did so gently.

“I will not abandon them. I will lead them.”

Before he could leave the room, Malkia tossed back the covers and ran to him. She held him around the waist and closed her eyes, begging the world to allow him to return to her.

“Malk,” Waarheid whispered, “I know it’s too late now. But if we get the chance, you must take the grandchildren somewhere else. Nguvu and Jasiri are too stubborn and I fear hungry for war to understand the gravity. Card and Binti are just children, and they will be traumatized if this castle falls siege.”

Malkia nodded. Waarheid kissed her hand.

“Farewell, my darling. If all is righteous, then I shall see you for dinner.”

The Babar ducked out of the bedroom, leaving Malkia alone with her belief that there was nothing righteous left in Cartonia.

—

Nguvu Tatum, the designated Tusk of Phantine—that is, heir to the throne—joined his father in armor at the front line. They were flanked by hundreds of soldiers sworn to protect the Babar. Nguvu’s twin brother, Jasiri, was breathing heavily behind his helmet. Across the marshes, the foxes were moving in. Their Ballad of War continued to drift over the soon-to-be-battlefield. The army’s best hope was that the foxes were unprepared for the thick mud of the marshes, or would develop diseases from being exposed to the water for so long. The Granite Bloc’s troops were better prepared. This was their home, and they knew its terrain.

They had one chance to stop the Summer Sun advancement. If the Castle fell, the Summer Sun could overrun the country. That would be the final nail in the Granite Bloc’s coffin.

“On me!”

That was *Baba*. He aimed his rifle at the coming foxes. Nguvu and Jasiri mimicked his action. Soon, the foxes were close enough.

“FIRE!”

—

Gunshots burst all around the Marshes. The soldiers had not aimed at the foxes, but instead at the landmines and other traps set for them. They exploded with enormous force, killing dozens if not hundreds of foxes. Malkia slammed the last window shut, sealing the castle in from the outside. The moat was being pumped with poison so that anyone falling into it would absorb its toxins and perish. The drawbridge was still lowered in case of a retreat.

Malkia’s daughters-in-law were with the grandchildren—Binti and Card—in the royal annex. Their faces were fearful.

“Girls,” Malkia scolded, “stop that. We must be resolute for the defenders. Fear is contagion and will spread rapidly, especially if a member of the royal family is patient zero.

Nguvu’s wife scowled.

“You cannot condemn me for being afraid. This is the worst day of my life. My son might die.”

Malkia tried not to roll her eyes. She had no tolerance for cowardice.

“We all might die, Taya. At the end of this battle, the foxes will make no differentiation between royal and common. You knew that, else you would have sent your children away.”

Taya trembled, and Malkia groaned.

“Do not shed tears, Taya. You either, Zuri. Your children are stronger than you.”

Indeed, the children were perfectly calm. Malkia outstretched her arms and the kids ran to her.

“We shall man the defenses. Come, children.”

She closed the door to the annex, so that no one else would bear witness to the timidness of Phantish royalty.

—Eleven Days Later—

The foxes were great in number, a formidable opponent. Despite the home advantage, the Vulpine army was beginning to overrun them. It became apparent that a siege of the castle was most likely. The foxes had surrounded the capital, detonating all the traps and losing many of their numbers. Yet, they were undeterred.

After eleven days of constant battling, even in the middle of the night, Babar Waarheid gave the official order to retreat to the Castle in the Marshes.

The siege would soon begin. Whoever outlasted the other would be the victor. The Babar had amassed enough supplies to carry the Castle through many months of sieging, but eventually hunger and famine would grip the castle and enable the besiegers a victory.

Waarheid glanced back at the imposing stone castle, isolated in the midst of an overflowing moat. Home. Over the centuries, the castle had withstood a myriad of monarchs. The question now was whether it could withstand the force of thousands of foxes.

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

—November 19, 721—

-7 Months Later-

“Your Majesty,” the page said to Queen Vixen, “here is His Highness the Prince Harald of Capricon.”

The once so-called King of the Goats dropped into a dramatic bow that brought him inches from the floor. He was holding the former crown of Capricon in one of his hooves. His wife, Eva Hornover, was basically trembling next to him. This was actually the first time the Vixen Queen had formally met both of them face-to-face. Harald was the youngest child of his kingly father. His role was never public, and the Queen never had reason to speak to him. Back when Capricon was a member of the Summer Sun—before its humiliating defeat ten years ago—the Vixen Queen was primarily in contact with the now-dead King William X. That was Harald’s father. William visited his trenches and contracted an infection from the poor conditions, dropping dead quickly thereafter. His son, Edward, became King for like…eleven days or something. The fall of Capricon happened almost simultaneously with Edward’s rise. In that brief time, however, the Vixen Queen had at least established some relationship with him as an ally.

The Hornovers were placed under house arrest by Leprolia, and detained in their capital city. When the plague swept through, Edward and his only child died. Harald would have become King had the monarchy not been abolished. Harald frequently petitioned the Vixen Queen for a restoration to the throne, especially after the Summer Sun reclaimed former Capricon. But as it was discussed at the summit between the Summer Sun leaders in 719, Capricon had lost its status as a Kingdom after it was defeated. There was no logic in restoring it to its former station alongside its more successful allies. Therefore, the leaders agreed to put Harald upon a nominal throne of a Capricovian principality. Harald was receptive at first, until he realized that the principality was only to contain the capital of Baahaa. The remainder of the Capricovian land was soon to be officially annexed by Vulpus.

But after a year of him pouting as nothing more than a standard citizen in Vulpine Baahaa, Harald acquiesced to the Queen’s initial offer. Today, he was being received in Vulpus for his coronation, if one could call it that. It was more of an official ceremony to elevate Harald to the autonomous position as Prince of Capricon. It was to be the first commonwealth or colony of the Vulpus Empire. Today’s news would broadcast the ceremony, which would be a welcome distraction from the beleaguered cycle of the failing months-long siege in Phantine.

“Harald,” the Vixen Queen said with forced cheerfulness, “how good it is to finally meet you.”

“Majesty,” Harald muttered, lifting himself from the bow. He held out the crown of Capricon. “Per your request, I bring you the crown of my brother and father, and his father, and so on.”

The Queen took it at once. She set it on a velvet cushion and lifted a glass dome over it.

“Thank you. It’ll make an excellent addition to the History Museum, yes?”

Harald bit his lip and nodded.

“But—“ Eva spoke up, but the Queen did not let her finish.

“A new coronet has been fashioned for you, Harald, and I’ll place it on your head once crowned. The ceremony is to begin in ten minutes time. It’ll be televised. Upon completion, you’ll dine with me and the commandants of the Mallardian and Willonian territories. Then, you and the Princess Eva will return to Baahaa and begin the transfer of power. As it has been agreed.”

Harald and Eva just silently bobbed their heads.

“One more thing,” the Vixen Queen crooned with a smile, “from here on out, Capricon no longer utilizes male-preference succession. Any child born to you will be eligible for the throne. Boy or girl.”

Eva subconsciously placed a hoof over her protruding stomach. The Vixen Queen imagined Eva’s pregnancy might have had something to do with Harald’s sudden acceptance of the Queen’s proposal, in order to ensure the child would one day be in line for a throne. Any throne.

“Fine,” Harald spat with zero enthusiasm. The Vixen Queen smirked and went to speak with the camera crew about the ceremony.

—

Harald Hornover wanted to spit fire. If he could, he’d throttle the Vixen Queen with his bare hands. She was eliminating his royal status with one stroke. Capricon was almost wholly reclaimed, and he should be *King*. Not Prince, not Royal Governor, Autonomous Leader, or Commandant. The *King*. She was even taking his crown away. That was the most important part of the deal, she said. They would need to turn over the golden Capricovian crown.

Harald just had to get through this ceremony, get back to Baahaa, and return to his childhood home at the Jewel. As far as he knew, all the gems that the Hornovers hid before the Leprolians invaded were still hidden away. That would greatly aid in helping Harald reclaim Capricovian glory. If Baahaa was to constitute the entirety of the new Principality of Capricon, then it would be a lavish, opulent capital.

The details of the deal were even more infuriating, however. Capricon would have to pay taxes to the Vulpus crown, in return for what the Vixen Queen described as “amenities.” She did not elaborate what these would entail. In addition, all citizens would have to register for the draft to at any time be deployed into the Summer Sun’s armies. But Harald did not care about that as much. He just wanted his crown back.

“Harald,” Eva cautioned, “you mustn’t look so angry for the cameras. Think of our people.”

He loosened his shoulders and took a deep breath. She was right, of course. He pushed his ire and fury to one side, keeping his eyes straight until the Vixen Queen called him forward.

—The Castle in the Marshes, Nchi Ya Tembo, Phantine—

—January 7, 722—

-2 Months Later-

It was a stalemate.

The Castle in the Marshes held firm against the besieging foxes, but food was nearly all depleted, and rations were down to the bare minimum each day. The elephants were starving, and many had already died. The courtyard was dug up so that bodies could be buried without the sieging parties knowing. Morale could be the determiner in this battle.

Waarheid passed his daily ration to young Card Tatum, his grandson. The little elephant gazed up at the Babar with wide eyes, his hands cradling the small scrap of bread.

“Are you sure?”

The Babar nodded quietly, so that his children would not see. He had stopped eating his rations, ensuring that others were getting them. Starvation was getting to him as well. He could feel his insides withering. All the castle defenders were emaciated now, hollow shells of their former selves.

Both Nguvu and Jasiri’s wives had died from disease when they ate a few insects scurrying around the halls. They were not the only ones. Desperation was kicking in, survival mode activated. As a result, the Babar locked the rest of the family away in their private wing. Waarheid continued to mingle with his citizens, but the Babarina, the Tusk, and the grandchildren were to be kept safe. Their rations were, of course, the same as anyone else’s.

When Waarheid went to the viewing platform and gazed at the Vulpine camps, he could see the widespread destruction there too. The marshes were an inhospitable place, and diseases and starvation too were killing them. No one had breached the moat, which was imbued with poison, and not one tower had fallen.

It was widely believed that the foxes would soon retreat to their trench line in southern Phantine, where they could recuperate and try a different tactic. Taking the Castle in the Marshes by force was not going to be easy. It was this hope that kept the defenders fueled. But Waarheid knew it could not last. If the defenders were not gone in two weeks’ time, the castle would have to surrender. There was simply not enough food left.

—One Week Later—

Sergeant Matthew Palmer wished he wore thicker boots as he traversed the marshes toward the central camp tent. He was to relieve the current siege commander, who was reportedly on the brink of death from a disease that was being colloquially called marshfoot. Matthew’s orders were to assess the status of the siege and determine whether or not it was worth continuing. Unbeknownst to Vulpus higher command, Matthew’s decision was made up before he even crossed into Phantine.

The Siege of the Marshes had lasted nearly a whole year, far longer than any other siege in this war. No significant progress could be made into Phantine without taking the castle. But Matthew did not want there to be any progress into Phantine. He needed Vulpus to retreat, and give the Granite Bloc time to recover. It was becoming very apparent that the Summer Sun was going to win this war. The continent was already transforming, the maps redrawn to double the extent of the Vixen Queen’s authority.

This was the fifteenth year of this war. Too long and too far.

“Sir!”

Matthew had reached the camp tent, and the soldiers outside saluted him. He remembered when he was like them, just runts in the litter. He packed his resume with enough bullshit to climb this high, and now he finally had enough power to do something to turn the war’s tide.

Inside, the ill commander was ready to show Matthew all the progress they’d made. He listened with one ear, the other tuned in to the chatters of the soldiers, many of them convinced the siege was fruitless. Matthew conducted an obligatory tour of the defenses, and made a point to appear disillusioned with the conditions. Many soldiers saw his face and began to look frightened themselves, assuming that if the Sergeant was worried then they should be too.

At the end of the day, Matthew submitted the formal order to wave the white flag of surrender and retreat.

—January 15, 722—

-The Next Morning-

A stainless banner was raised over the Vulpine camps at sunrise, and the Castle in the Marshes shook with applause and joyous clamor. Babarina Malkia, half the person she once was, gripped the wall for support as emotions overcame her. The first thought that entered her head was the image of a plate of pasta. That was all she wanted right now: food.

She limped across the hall to the Babar’s bedroom. He had not yet emerged, and would be relieved to know his strategy paid off. Seven-year-old Card, whose energy astounded Malkia, beat her to the door.

“Grandpa!” he cried in delight. “Grandpa, we’ve won!”

Malkia caught Card’s arm and pulled him away from the bed, from the scene that could very well traumatize him, from the white corpse of the Babar, his mouth lolled open and his eyes as empty as his stomach.

—

Nguvu and Jasiri were quiet as Babar Waarheid’s body was wrapped in a sheet and carried to a wooden coffin. Malkia closed the lid and wiped away her tears.

“He wasn’t eating his rations,” Nguvu muttered. “Card told me he’d always give him his.”

Malkia flicked her eyes toward the ceiling.

“That explains the kid’s energy.”

Nguvu’s lip twitched.

“Yeah.”

Malkia came over to Nguvu and squeezed his shoulders.

“I know this is not how you imagined it, but you are the Babar now. The forces are retreating, and we cannot let word of the Babar’s death leak until they’re gone and we can get some food. We have less than a week’s supply now. Riders will leave at once for the north, where we can get something brought back to us.”

“There will be no coronation,” Nguvu stated. “It’s superfluous. I am Babar and Card is the Tusk. It’s settled.”

Jasiri and Malkia nodded. Nguvu could see they were in the same frame of mind as he was; they didn’t care about who held which titles anymore. Only the war mattered.

“We cannot stay here,” Nguvu sighed. “The castle will not withstand a second siege. We’ll station army battalions to protect this fortress, but we must move to a safer location. Someplace closer to Canis or Porcinia.”

“Canis,” Malkia said. “That’s much safer. Porcinia is overrun by parrots.”

“I want to stay together,” Jasiri posited. “I know that some families are splitting up, like the Muses and Oldmans. That’s not us. We’ve already lost too many of us.”

“Okay,” Nguvu agreed. “We’ll go together. Once we get some food.”

Nguvu had never been so hungry in his entire life. He would gladly sell his soul for a scrap of lettuce or a loaf of bread. At nights, a whisper within him would call for death, the quick release from his life of strife. But then another whisper would turn into a shout, demanding that he be as strong as granite, unmoving and unbreakable. And now that he was Babar, he was ready to show the Summer Sun just how strong he was.

*Blood for blood*.

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

Lana Loudoun and Nicholas Porker, who has still not made an in-episode appearance, moved into a cabin together in O Camp.

King Cottontail IX, one of Cartonia’s oldest monarchs and a member of the Great Plot in 700, died and was succeeded by Sterling Oldman, who took the regnal name Cottontail X.

Card Tatum, grandson of Babar Waarheid, was first mentioned in the second season episode “Trouble” as a future Mayor of Toontown and the last elephant in Toontown. Therefore, he is one of the founders of Toontown. He was mentioned again in the season three episode “Song of the Siren” as heir to the Kingdom of Phantine.

During the Vixen Queen’s visit to the Vixen Cliffs, the army’s training grounds were mentioned. It was these military activities that sparked the Great Plot in 700 (“Hollow Crown”) that was unsuccessful in stopping the Harmonious Coronation of Vixen VII.

The foxes’ Ballad of War, most prominently played in the season 3 episode “Wistful Oceans” was played as the foxes advanced on the Phantish capital.

Harald and Eva Hornover made their first appearances since “Remnants of the People.” In the years since their entire family died from the plague, they remained under house arrest in Baahaa until it was retaken by the foxes. Harald was elevated to be the nominal Prince of Capricon in the continent’s first principality.

Matthew Palmer, now a Sergeant in the Vulpine army, gave the formal order to retreat from Phantine, using his influence to benefit the Granite Bloc.

Babar Waarheid died from starvation during the siege of the Castle in the Marshes. He was succeeded by his elder twin son, Nguvu.

### References

The native Phantish language, Olifaans, is based on Swahili but named for Afrikaans.

Marshfoot is a parallel for trench foot, which plagued many soldiers in World War I. Trench foot was not as fatal as its Storytime counterpart.

## Trivia

* The title of this episode is a common adage in wartime, expressing the intent to match any bloodshed with an opponent.
	+ The line was quoted by the Phantish soldiers on the eve of battle, and later by Nguvu on the death of his father.
* Ngome Katika Mabwawa is Swahili for “Castle in the Marshes.”
* Nchi Ya Tembo is Swahili for “Land of the Elephant.”
* The episode opens on April 18, 721, the same day as the episode’s publication (April 18, 2021).
* The Phantish royal family's names all come from Swahili and Afrikaans:
	+ Waarheid: "truth" in Afrikaans
	+ Malkia: "queen" in Swahili
	+ Nguvu: "power" in Swahili
	+ Jasiri: "brave" in Swahili
	+ Kadi: "card" in Swahili
	+ Binti: "daughter" in Swahili
* The title of Babarina is based on the Tsarina of Russia, wife to the Tsar.