Pro Patria Mori

**"Pro Patria Mori"**is the twentieth episode of *War* and the 69th episode overall.

The episode was published on May 9, 2021.

In the episode, the Stag of Cervidium makes a startling announcement that redefines the Cartonian map. In Canis, planning begins for an escape from Cartonia.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 725**B:** Equestrian Royal Family, 725**C:** Capricovian Royal Family, 725**D:** Cervidian Royal Family, 725**E:** Phantish Royal Family, 725**F:** Vulpine Royal Family, 725
## The Episode

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—June 22, 724—*

*It is my birthday today. I am 38 years old. When I was a young pig, I would have thought by this point in life I’d be happily married with children of my own, living a fulfilling life and worried most about aging, work, or the upbringing of my kids. But that was not my destiny.*

*At the time of this writing, nearly all nations of the Granite Bloc have fallen. As the Bloc cracks and in some places shatter, the possibility of lifelong happiness breaks with it. Canis remains the only nation to yet face an invasion of its borders, a fact we all find ironic given how Canis is the main opponent of the Summer Sun and one of the instigators of this crisis. Despite the capital of Simeone’s extremely close proximity to Scuridiae, it remains the other stronghold of our alliance. Ursus, Phantine, Porcinia, and Bovo may soon flounder. Fighting continues, of course, but hope is ebbing away. This is my first time writing of the possibility of Porcinia’s total collapse, an event I do believe is imminent. There are now more camps than towns along the southern border. O Camp is overpopulated, and the rations are tightening. I am glad I have Nicholas and Mom to keep me sane, and provide what little joy is left in this life.*

*The camps have placed a ban on willing conception of children, beginning the first of July. This is to prevent a shortage of resources, and to reduce overpopulation. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to bring a child into this world now, a conversation Nicholas and I have had multiple times. At work I was able to see the demographic rates of Cartonia; birth rates have fallen dramatically, especially after the year of the War Plague.*

*Military experts now predict that by this time next year, barring any major change of circumstance, the Summer Sun will have won, and all nations will be under their control. King Bacon suggests that this is not an accurate estimation, as the takeover of nations is not as easy as achieving a surrender and changing the map. The way of life of the people must be changed, and that is an arduous bureaucratic process. Not to mention there will be resistance. We don’t hear much of resistances in Willie, Mallardia, and so on, but that’s because the Summer Sun will suppress it. We actually hear almost nothing from those countries, as if they don’t exist anymore. I suppose they don’t.*

*I dread the possibility that Cartonia may soon be solely ruled by the evil foxes of Vulpus, the wicked deer of Cervidium, the invasive chipmunks of Scuridiae, and the malicious parrots of Psittancyna.*

—Central Phantine—

—Kingdom of the Elephants—

-December 2, 724-

Lieutenant General Matthew Palmer, as the second-in-command of Vulpus’s First Phantine Division Army, led his soldiers west of Nchi Ya Tembo, the capital. They were heading north, toward the Second Phantine Division Army, led by Psittancyna. Today, according to the operation to capture Phantine and subjugate the elephants, the two fronts of the Summer Sun would meet for the first time. The parrots had long-led the northern siege of Ursus and Porcinia, and recently had entered Phantine. The parrots made quick work of the marshes and were close to connecting with the southern invaders. Once the Summer Sun fronts were united, the supply chains would only grow stronger, and the Granite Bloc would come closer to falling.

Obviously, that was not the outcome Matthew desired. Despite climbing all the way to the near-apex of the Vulpine army’s hierarchy, he was not able to effect the change he wanted to bring down the Kingdom from within. As the seventeen years of war cannibalized his soul, he wondered if in the end he did more harm than good. Perhaps staying in the military was a poor choice, and he should have retired to the country with his parents and lived quietly. It would have prevented his countless sleepless nights plagued with night terrors and flashbacks to scenes he wished he could forget.

At the same time, he tried to reassure himself that he was one fox up against an unstoppable war machine. It was jarring how many foxes bought into the Vixen Queen’s vision of a Vulpus-dominated continent. There was little hope of reversing the pitfalls of the war, but Matthew steeled himself to keep going, and fight the good fight.

In sacrificing himself for the war effort, he made many personal concessions. He hardly ever saw his family, leaving his parents to their bucolic lifestyle still marred in mourning for a daughter plucked from the earth too soon and a son entrenched in embittered warfare. He was still unmarried, without prospects for that matter, and had been invested in the military for so long that it seemed unlikely he’d be able to find employment in anything except the government when this was all over. He was certainly not the young palace page that had been conscripted over a decade ago. There didn’t seem to be much promise in his future. Many mornings, he cursed that he woke up at all.

Matthew’s superior, General Paulus, had the Vulpus flag waved from the hilltop when they saw the Psittancynesian battalions marching across the marshes. The familiar blue macaw-adorned banner of Psittancyna waved back. General Paulus set off to meet the General of the parrots, where they’d grip paw and wing and celebrate the merging of the fronts.

Then, the army would dig trenches and push west and east. West into Simeone. East through Phantine toward Canis. If all went to plan, the year 725 would be the final of the war.

But Matthew had heard that before. All years was supposed to be the “last.” The Summer Sun seemed to continuously assume the Granite Bloc would just surrender. There had been enough edicts written about it to corroborate the point. The Granite Bloc would never surrender. Not until the very end.

In the valley below, a fanfare of trumpets sounded, and Matthew saw General Paulus shaking hands with the general of the parrots. He heaved a sigh, but masked it as a yawn.

The fronts were joined. The Summer Sun now controlled land from the Vixen Cliffs to the Pinnacle Ice Sheet. They were stronger than ever.

—The Rook of Vulpus, Vista, Vulpus—

-December 5, 724-

The Vixen Queen inspected her daughter’s ceremonial outfit. It was black and red, made of Vulpine leather, and designed to make Violetta Vixen appear imposing. This was the expected appearance of a future Vixen Queen. Today, on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday, she would be formally introduced to the nation as the Crown Princess, a position she held nominally. The last person to be bestowed this title was Victoria Vixen, who the Vixen Queen had assassinated to spark her war.

Victoria was a dim memory now, someone who had lived and someone who had followed the Vixen Queen around like a lost puppy. A little girl unfit for the office, and uncommitted to it. She had no morals, thus explaining her relationship with Bentley Connelly. She was not a Vulpus-driven fox, and did not care about the country. She would sooner renounce her right to the throne than embrace it. Just like her mother.

Another figure lost in the Vixen Queen’s memory: her younger sister, Vora. Long dead, even before Victoria. The last time the Vixen Queen saw her sister, Vora had just given birth to baby Victoria. Back then, they were known as Princess Vora and Crown Princess Valda, their mother Vixen VI still on the throne. Then, days after the birth, Vora and her husband and the baby were gone. She left behind a note that she and Brock—the husband—were seeking a quieter life for their newborn, away from court and the vitriol of politics. Mother never inquired where they went, and Vora’s existence was not significant again until the duel that killed Valda’s two daughters had propelled Vora to next in line to the throne.

But Vora was dead, killed in a house fire. That left young Victoria to pick up the claim.

Thankfully, the Vixen Queen had given birth to another daughter, Violetta. She was her newfound pride and joy. Violetta would one day succeed Valda and become Vixen VIII.

“Do you have your speech ready?” the Vixen Queen asked, plucking a loose thread from the shoulder of the jacket. Violetta tapped her pocket.

“Here.”

“Memorized?”

“Yes, Mother.”

The Vixen Queen offered a rare smile.

“Happy birthday, love. Now, come. Let’s show Vulpus their next Queen.”

—

The balcony of the Rook of Vulpus was intentionally small, so that only the most important people could stand on it over the plaza below. Princess Valencia Vixen was fortunate enough to have that distinction, as second-in-line to the throne and the Vixen Queen’s only surviving sister. Valencia’s only child, Vanna, was not so lucky. She was relegated to the shadows as Valda and Violetta stepped up to the railing. Valencia was off to the side, so that they could shine. This was the presentation of Violetta Vixen as the Crown Princess.

After Victoria Vixen was assassinated, Valencia thought her succession was assured. She was next-in-line, a grown woman with a daughter, and a force to be reckoned with. But Valda didn’t trust her, which was why she went to her husband’s bedroom every night and shook the whole castle until she was pregnant once again. Violetta’s birth threw a wrench in Valencia’s plans, but it wasn’t as if Valencia would have reigned for a long time. Valda was in excellent health, and widely popularly with the people. Had Valencia ascended the throne after her sister’s death, it would have been in her twilight years, when she would want to do nothing but sit and wait to die. A coup was impossible, and illogical. Valencia knew that, and would never dare attempt it.

And by now, after years and years of war and seeing the Kingdom of Vulpus expand with alarming speed, Valencia had no desire to be the Vixen Queen.

She wanted Vanna for the post instead. She was better than Violetta. Older, wiser. She had two daughters and two sons, and a wealthy husband. But playing with crowns was dangerous. The time to strike would be after the formidable Vixen Queen’s death. Valencia and Vanna plotted in secret, and made sure to show undying support for the Vixen Queen and Violetta. Until the time was right.

Let Valda win her war, let her build Vulpus to all she wanted it to be. Valencia would wrap it up in a big beautiful red and black bow, and then gift it to Vanna.

—Tardisham Tower, Carnarvon, Ursus—

—Kingdom of the Bears—

-December 31, 724-

When Horatio Caligari was seventeen, his father died suddenly, catapulting the young horse to King of Equine Isle. The date was October 3, 652. Now, 72 years later, Horatio was on his death bed. The forced flight from Equine Isle tortured his mind, and he had frequent nightmares of the island going up in flames.

Heredera Navarra Caligari watched this from his bedside. They were in exile, hiding from the conflict. The royal family was not apt to fighting. Navarra was 65. Her children were in their thirties. She had grandchildren. Her role as Heredera included serving as regent in her father’s absence. The constitution extended that to mental absence.

King Horatio was no longer mentally capable of ruling Equine Isle, even in exile. Navarra knew her time as Queen was coming, but it’d be Queen of ruin. She’d have no Kingdom to rule over. The foxes had claimed Equine Isle as their own, and the indoctrination of the people was underway.

The flight from Equine Isle was not perfect. The family had not all been together in Equus, the fallen capital. Horatio had three living children, and only Navarra was at home in Races. Countess Calinia Caligari was up north. Count Bask Caligari was in the east.

Bask did not make it. He was captured by Scuridiae. His daughter too. Father did not know that. He thought he was still on his way.

“What day is it?” Horatio suddenly asked. His voice was clear, even though it had been unused for days.

“December 31,” Navarra replied. “724.”

“This isn’t Races.”

Navarra frowned.

“No. This is Tardisham Tower. We’re guests of King Archibald.”

“Archie?” Horatio mused thoughtfully. “Princess Theodora is such a sweet girl.”

“She is,” Navarra muttered, remembering the tragic death of Theodora Rose.

“Where are your siblings?” Horatio asked, glancing around the room.

“Downstairs.”

Calinia was just outside, actually. Speaking to one of the nurses about his medicine. Bask was…somewhere. She didn’t know where the chipmunks had taken him.

“I want to go back to Races,” Horatio said. His tone was sad. Navarra took his hoof.

“I know, papa. Me too.”

He angled his head at her.

“Do you remember the last race before the war?”

Navarra grinned. She remembered it fondly. The annual summer tradition on Equine Isle. Horses from across the island would converge in Equus and compete against each other in a foot race. The royal family always put forth a competitor, and Horatio surprised everyone by being that representative. He lost, but he finished in the top ten. That was in 708, when the war was only between six nations, and Equine Isle insisted on neutrality.

Horatio had been livid when the Vixen Queen abolished the Harmony Crown, and joined the fray.

“I remember,” Navarra mumbled. “You did so well.”

The King’s smile faltered.

“I’m tired of running, Navarra.”

His hoof shook, like a tremor. He stared at his eldest daughter with dying eyes. “I leave you a broken kingdom. I’m sorry.”

Navarra swayed her head back and forth.

“No, papa. You led Equine Isle for seven decades. You are the most beloved, and you have done nothing wrong to fracture…”

The room felt empty, and Horatio’s eyes were still. His hoof was tense, motionless. Navarra cried out, and Calinia Caligari hurried into the room.

“Oh!” she gasped. Navarra burst into tears. Calinia sunk into a chair by the window, her gaze locked on the bed. Navarra extended her hoof at her sister, beckoning, and Calinia ran over. They hugged each other to comfort the heavy loss.

—Burrow Court Palace, Sylvia, Occupied Leprolia—

-January 1, 725-

Stag Barrow Elkton reviewed his flashcards once more before he went on stage. He was standing in the entrance of what was once known as Burrow Court Palace, the royal seat of the rabbits before the King surrendered and handed control of the city, and the nation, to the deer. A slight issue arose when the foxes that helped the deer conquer Leprolia refused to leave. The Vixen Queen, apparently, thought *she* had the right to lay claim to Leprolia. But that was clownish thinking. Truly laughable, in Barrow’s opinion. Nonetheless, her desire to own Leprolia versus the Stag’s rightful hold over it led to a stalemate between the two where Leprolia was known only as Summer Sun-occupied territory. That is, until today.

When his father, the great Stag Ellis, was still alive, the Summer Sun agreed that Cervidium would rule Leprolia upon its fall. The original agreement, drafted at the Summer Sun Summit, had been significantly altered over the years. Mostly because Scuridiae and Psittancyna were broke, which worked well for Cervidium and Vulpus. Both would be able to take more land than anticipated.

But Barrow was beginning to see the Vixen Queen intended for Vulpus to emerge from this war as the clear winner. Not if Barrow could help it. Had he been Stag at the war’s onset, he would not have chosen the Vixen Queen as an ally. He would have recognized her for the threat she was and neutralized her, then launching Cervidium’s war of conquest. Alas, that was not how history shook out.

A gust of cold winter air blew through the open doors, sending a shiver down the heavily-layered Stag’s back. Even his antlers were icing up. Snowy winters were uncommon in Cervidium, usually only getting a light frost or at worst a few inches. Nothing like the blizzard conditions here in northern Leprolia.

“You’re on,” a television producer muttered to the Stag. He shoved the flashcards into his pocket, and walked up the stairs onto the stage.

Across the courtyard in front of Burrow Court Palace were throngs of people. Deer and rabbits, together. Stag Barrow insisted that rabbits be present for the televised address. While there was a strong resistance to occupied rule, the Stag hoped that rabbits would far prefer being under the Cervidian umbrella than the Vulpine.

A tall and wide stage was erected in front of the palace, with Cervidian flags draping from every side. The national green color dominated the scene, and even the Stag’s scarf matched the banners. Snow poured down from the sky as Barrow took to the podium.

“Good morning, Leprolia. Good morning, Cervidium. Good morning to all gathered here today and at home. I am speaking to you from the capital of Cervidian-occupied Leprolia on a momentous day. This is more than the anniversary of the war’s beginning eighteen years ago. This will be the defining hallmark of a changing world, of a new partnership, and a new union. As of this speech, the Kingdom of Leprolia by its Harmony Crown-sanctioned borders and all its assets, resources, and people are formally annexed into the dominion of Cervidium.”

The crowd cheered, including some of the rabbits. The annexation would ensure the egress of the foxes from the capital, and the country.

“As a newly inducted state of the Cervidian crown,” Barrow continued, “it is imperative we rebrand the former symbols of corrupt and tyrannical Oldman rule. Let it be remembered that the Oldman family stood by BioFreaks, which we all know are biological mutants spawned from interspecies relationships. To distance rabbits from this incorrigible past, Burrow Court Palace is hereby renamed Elkton Court, and the capital of Sylvia will be changed to Ellistag to honor my late father. Stag Ellis Elkton campaigned vigorously for a victory over Leprolia, but was murdered by a BioFreak before that dream could be realized. As we move toward a united nation, let these small rebrands be the first small steps.”

The applause was raucous among deer, but muted among the rabbits, which was to be expected. Sylvia was the name of the first Queen of Leprolia, and Burrow Court Palace hearkened back to the bygone era of rabbits living in burrows. Both names were important to the Leprolians. However, this was war. The winners enjoyed the spoils.

“For the past eighteen years,” Barrow went on, “Cervidium’s acquisitions have been administered as assumed entities of the Cervidian crown. This was, at the time, presumed to be the best way to govern the new territories. However, rampant unrest in Felexa and Leprolia has proven that some form of autonomy must be maintained among the people. It is for this reason, as well as the desire for unity, that I am separating West Gallix, Felexa, and Leprolia from absolute direct control of the Cervidian government and establishing individual states united under the crown. The Kingdom of Cervidium and its wartime acquisitions will henceforth be known as the Union of Cervidian Centralized States.”

This was the part that Barrow was most looking forward to. He had devised the idea for the UCCS himself. He had seen across the Summer Sun conquests that no one wanted to be directly ruled by their conquerors. In a way, Barrow could understand that. They were conquered fairly, but even the smallest of rebellions could topple the strongest crown. Barrow knew there must be a strategy to placate them, and the bones of the Union were shortly thereafter cemented.

In his speech, Barrow outlined the plan. Cervidium would remain the center of the Union, with West Gallix, Felexa, and Leprolia under Barrow’s ultimate control. The conquered states would have their own governments, appointed by the Stag. The major difference was that chickens would have a say in the West Galligasque government, cats in the Felexan state, and rabbits in Leprolia. This was a model unseen on the continent, and definitely something the Vixen Queen would oppose. But what she had to say about it did not matter. By the time Barrow had finished detailing the Union’s specifics, even the rabbits were cheering.

Autonomy, even in its smallest form, which is all that Barrow promised, must be closely monitored. The people could misconstrue this act of generosity as a means to overthrow the monarchy. The Union was designed to make Cervidium stronger, not weaker. Barrow had no qualms reverting West Gallix, Felexa, and Leprolia to nothing more than additional jewels in the Cervidian crown. He did not share in this speech that the borders of the states would remain firm in that cats, chickens, and rabbits could not live in Cervidium but deer were more than welcome to settle in the states.

“Yes!” Barrow cried over the noise. “We will unite as the Union of Cervidian Centralized States! We will press north into Bovo and bring them into the fold as well! But as we celebrate today, we must not forget those that made this possible. The fallen soldiers whose sacrifice gave the UCCS its rise.”

Barrow bowed his head solemnly, and a flurry of snow fell off his antlers. “There is no greater honor than to die for one’s country.”

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*-January 1, 725-*

*Horatio V of Equine Isle has died. He was the longest-reigning monarch in Cartonia. By a lot. I can’t remember when he took the throne but I do know he sat upon it for at least 70 years. More than a lifetime. I thought when I saw that in the news this morning that it would be the most talked-about issue. And it was, for about an hour. Then the Stag of Cervidium gave some weird speech in Leprolia, finally annexing it into Cervidian territory. But now Cervidium is rebranding itself as the Union of Cervidian Centralized States (UCCS). It sounds like the subjugated species will have some say in their government, but I think it’s a farce orchestrated by the deer to quash rebellions. Nicholas believes Barrow is only using the UCCS as a pretext to invade and conquer Bovo with greater ease, as the cows already upset at the monarchy will flock to the Cervidian cause. Are there really people stupid enough to turn against the Granite Bloc and join the Summer Sun? Is that not treachery? Treason? I will view it as a betrayal. We must be united, even when we’re at the end.*

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

-January 2, 725-

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Queen Roxanne II blurted, startling her younger sister, Zamora. They were playing a game of checkers, something Zamora loved because she was still able to win despite her early onset dementia. She needed only to look at the board and could easily figure out her next move. Roxanne usually let her win, but was sometimes genuinely bested.

“Thinking about what?” Zamora asked. Roxanne took a while to respond, her thoughts muddling, and Zamora quickly forgot her question. Jacquetta Lazoy, the former Madonna of Felexa, unfurled from her seat on the window and closed her journal.

“The Stag’s speech?”

Roxanne bit her lip angrily.

“Yes. The Union of Cervidian Centralized States…I don’t like it.”

“What’s that?” Zamora asked, her ears perked. Roxanne could not reply. It would take too long to explain, and Zamora would forget. Her dementia had progressed to a near-total form. She could no longer retain any information in the short-term and only the earliest of memories were preserved in her brain. She did not remember fleeing Felexa, and everyday was confused why she wasn’t waking up in her childhood bedroom in Talonclaw Castle. In what was the only merciful piece of her predicament, she remembered her family. Jacquetta, Roxanne, and Lionel were still addressed by name and happily greeted. Even though she was now past 40, Zamora’s mental capacity was frozen in her teenaged years. In his generosity, Bentley Connelly had given palace funds to have Zamora’s room renovated to appear as closely to Talonclaw Castle as possible, to mitigate the daily shock when she roused.

“On one hand,” Jacquetta mused, “it’s good that cats will be involved in the government of Felexa. At the very least, their voices will be heard. The downside, of course, is that those cats are appointed by the Stag. Whoever he chooses will be a die-hard Cervidian sympathizer. The same goes for West Gallix and Leprolia. By now, the chickens have been under control for so long that they’re probably all gung-ho for the deer.”

“It’s all a ploy,” Roxanne scowled. “Everything the Summer Sun does is just for show. The ones fighting to resist Cervidian rule are expected to roll over and wag their tails in delight that we have a *voice* in an echo chamber of propaganda and bullshit? Their opinions will be overpowered, derided, and cast out. The Stag said that a council of ten will be appointed to rule each state, and only *one* cat will be on Felexa’s! What if Cervidium decides that all cats must be neutered? What good is a cat’s voice if it’s blocked in a 9-1 vote?”

“Is it my turn?” Zamora muttered innocently. Roxanne forced a smile and nodded. Zamora glanced at the checkerboard and moved a piece.

“I understand,” Jacquetta responded, pulling at her necklace. “It’s allegedly better than absolute rule, but Felexans are still held captive. The Stag made no mention of his experiments, though he did blame BioFreaks on the Granite Bloc…again.”

Roxanne’s heart went out to BioFreaks. Her husband, Giulio Lazoy, was going to become one before he died in the experiments. Had he lived, he probably would have escaped Talonclaw with Deirdre Elkton and the others. Maybe he would have found his way to his wife. She missed him, and had not remarried.

“What can we do?” Jacquetta sighed, flapping her paws. “We’ve been in exile for thirteen years. Felexa has forgotten about us. We’re the lucky ones, the few that evaded Cervidian occupation.”

“I don’t know,” Roxanne muttered. “But I’m still Queen. I have to try to do something.”

She took one of Zamora’s pieces.

“I think,” Jacquetta said, “that you staying alive is the best thing for Felexa. If the people are successful in toppling the deer, or if this war manages to miraculously turn in our favor, you can return to Talonclaw Castle and restore order.”

Roxanne sneered. That was useless. Staying alive was easy when one lived in an enormous castle on a rocky hill in the safest nation on the continent. Canis had not faced a serious threat in the eighteen years of war, something that could not be said for any other Kingdom.

Zamora jumped two of Roxanne’s checkers.

“Haha,” she chuckled. Roxanne turned so her whole body was facing Zamora. There was still much to be grateful for, and she should focus on counting her blessings while she still had them.

—Hirschstag, The Leap, Cervidium—

—January 17, 725—

-15 Days Later-

The Vixen Queen hated visiting Cervidium. She had to do it so often over the course of this war that the charm of the place had completely worn out. She hated the people. She hated the deer. She despised the culture and the customs, the smells, the antlers everywhere, the humidity, and now she could add Stag Barrow to that list. He was nothing like his father, who had been articulate, calm, and willing to make concessions. Barrow was stubborn and imbued with nationalist pride. Where Stag Ellis had been transparent, Barrow was deceitful and secretive.

The talks about who would get Leprolia broke down, and suddenly the Vixen Queen was hearing reports of Cervidian soldiers driving foxes out of Sylvia. And then…Barrow’s speech.

Rage had completely consumed her when she watched the Stag speak on the steps of newly-named Elkton Court in newly-named Ellistag. The Union of Cervidian Centralized States came out of nowhere, and had sidelined her. Now there were calls within the budding Vulpus Empire for a similar form of government, to give captive chickens, mice, ducks, goats, crocodiles, and horses a say in the new order.

*Absolutely not*.

Barrow sent a telegram to the Vixen Queen before the speech, asking for a meeting. The Queen had denied the request, as she was busy putting together a propaganda film to galvanize soldiers in the trenches on the 18th anniversary of the war’s beginning. After the speech, and in the intervening days required to calm down, she accepted the original request. She proposed the Rook of Vulpus, but Barrow countered with Hirschstag, a private town owned by the Cervidian crown, located on the Vixen Cliffs.

The village of Hirschstag was at the bottom of the area of Cervidium known as the Leap. If one looked at pre-War Cervidium on a map, it looked like a deer. It didn’t anymore, given the additions of Leprolia and Felexa. The Leap was the leg, stretching over Vulpus. It was called the Leap to represent Cervidium’s ability to move forward. The Vixen Queen detested the name, as it implied that Cervidium was able to leap over Vulpus.

The foxes were the superior race on the continent. That was absolute. It was so predicted in the Skulkisch Doktrin. And soon, everyone would know it.

The Stag’s country estate smelled like deer, and the Vixen Queen wrinkled her nose as she walked into the foyer. Stag Barrow Elkton was grinning at her from upstairs.

“Valda, hello!”

“Barrow.”

“Where would you like to speak? I can have tea brought into…”

“Outside, preferably. At least I can breathe out there.”

Queen Vixen exited the house, and waited for Barrow to join her. He was wearing shorts and sandals, a far more casual outfit than her traveling cloak and boots. He may be Stag, but he had the maturity of a child.

“Thank you for coming to Hirschstag. If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to spend the night…”

“I’ll pass. I must return to Vista after this.”

“Ah. Well…”

“Tell me,” the Vixen Queen sneered, turning to face him, “why didn’t you inform me of the UCCS before you created it? Are we not allies?”

Barrow lifted his eyebrows.

“There is much you do not tell me, Valda. I was acting in Cervidian interests, for Cervidian citizens. As we are not of the same country, I did not see why I should concern you with my nation’s private matters.”

“It is not a *private* matter,” the Vixen Queen retorted. “You made a public statement to reorganize your territories in some convoluted union.”

The Stag was amused by her vitriol. He crossed his arms and gazed at her.

“I don’t see how it’s complex. I think it’s rather straightforward. The people have a say in their government, which is not uncommon in Cartonia. Every monarch has advisors. I am simply letting the chickens, cats, and rabbits of my growing domain think they’re contributing to the governance.”

“The Union is a step in the wrong direction,” the Vixen Queen insisted. “You are giving them too much hope. There are already calls in my empire for autonomy, and some of them are hard to shut up.”

Barrow was not easily swayed. He insisted the Union was the best way to preserve Cervidium without heavy resistance from the conquered.

“The people of the territories are not in any way taking control. Everything they do will be under my tutelage. The authority of the deer will be undisputed.”

Then, he rounded on her. “It is bold of you to scorn me for putting Summer Sun authority in jeopardy when you have been unsuccessful in containing resistances in Mallardia, Willie, Capricon, Eusuchia, Equine—“

“How dare you!”

“*Isle*!” Barrow finished undeterred. “Moreover, you have gone back on the agreement between us to split Capricon equally. You have taken all of Capricon, save the capital which has been relegated to Harald Hornover, your own puppet! If you had a shred of honor, or believed in our alliance at all, you would honor your word and cede Eastern Capricon to Cervidium, as originally planned.”

“No,” the Vixen Queen spat indignantly. The little deer had nerve, and his blunt aggression was one of the reasons she abhorred him. “The resistances in our colonies are under control. They will be wholly stamped out once the war is over and we can direct all of our armies to the areas of highest dissent. As for Eastern Capricon, Vulpus has been most instrumental in capturing that Kingdom. You took Felexa, which I think is a far greater prize than the desolation of *Capricon*. But I am willing to promise you a larger chunk of Canis if you can deliver the fall of Bovo by this summer.”

“I want coastal Canis.”

“Done.”

He was easily mollified.

“I can give you Bovo by summertime,” Barrow said with a smile. “The cows are destroying themselves. Anarchy after the King’s death.”

The Vixen Queen paused, and glanced southward toward the Vixen Cliffs, only a mile away.

“I have another deal to broker with you. Perhaps I can cede some of eastern Capricon to you after all. Give me the Leap.”

Barrow laughed, assuredly taken aback. He stuffed his hooves in his pockets and clucked his tongue.

“Whoa! I…hmm…you want the Leap?”

“The area south of First Vista River specifically. How many live here?”

“Less than two thousand,” Barrow replied, thinking. “But the Cliffs…”

“You’ve said yourself there’s nothing there to mine. I’ll let you keep your house at Hirschstag.”

It was a generous offer. The Vixen Queen was willing to make it in return for full control of the Vixen Cliffs, unbridled jurisdiction of the First Vista River, and access to the Eastern Ocean.

“Tempting,” Barrow remarked. “How soon can I—?”

“I’ll cede you the land at once. But I also want the land above the River. An equal swath of land abreast. Do you need a map?”

“I do not. But that’s closer to 5,000 citizens.”

“I’m willing to provide relocation assistance to them, but you’ll lose some of the land in Capricon in return.”

The Stag was not the best negotiator. He was too tempted by the idea of getting more area for his Union of Cervidian Centralized States that he didn’t realize what he was giving up. Vulpus would only grow stronger with the southern Leap, an advantage that would hopefully allow the foxes to turn on the deer and subjugate them too.

“Do we have a deal?” the Vixen Queen asked, reaching with her paw. Barrow pondered for a second, before shaking.

“Deal.”

—Eastern Phantine—

—Kingdom of the Elephants—

-February 14, 725-

Tusk Card Tatum, prince of Phantine and heir to the throne, was on the run. He was probably too young—only ten—to understand what was going on, but he could tell from the adults around him that things were bad. His eleventh birthday was this year, but it wouldn’t be spent in Nchi Ya Tembo. Grandpa Waarheid died in the first siege of the Castle in the Marshes, and Grandma Malkia died in the second. Card’s father, Babar Nguvu Tatum, told Card that the Castle in the Marshes would not survive its third siege, and sent Card to Canis. That was where they were heading now—Canis. Nguvu’s brother, Uncle Jasiri, was with him.

Grandma was supposed to come, but she succumbed to starvation, just as Grandpa had. Jasiri’s daughter Binti was here too, but Card didn’t get along with her much. She was a month older, and always teased him for going by “Card” instead of the original Olifaans translation of his name, “Kadi.”

The truck they were riding came to a halt, and Card’s ears perked. He pulled down the window shade and saw two armed dogs inspecting the truck. Uncle Jasiri opened the door and got out to speak to them. Card scrambled to the front to hear what they were saying. The other adults didn’t notice him.

“…several days to reach West Terrier. The supply lines are clogged. But we’ll prioritize your vehicle as best as we can.”

“Do you have any news from Phantine? The siege…”

“It’s over,” one of the dogs said solemnly. “They captured the Babar. You got out in time. The whole nation is crumbling.”

Jasiri turned around, and Card was shocked by the grief in his face. He pulled away, and went back to sit with Binti.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” she commented.

“The dogs said they captured my dad.”

Binti exhaled.

“That’s not good.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. The foxes don’t keep their prisoners, like we do.”

Card stared.

“Then what do they do with them?”

Binti rolled her eyes.

“They kill them.”

—Bucktooth Castle, Port Tamias, Scuridiae—

—Kingdom of the Chipmunks—

-February 19, 725-

Chequer Vincent of Scuridiae was humiliated. Months of planning an attack on the Simian capital of Primatia were washed away in a single afternoon as the monkeys effortlessly crushed the invasion. The operation was supposed to be one of the Chequer’s finest. Had it been successful, the chipmunks would have been the first to reach Vinesteeple, and a plunder could commence. That would ease some of Scuridiae’s rampant debt. The embezzlement conducted by the Chequer’s late son was still a bitter memory affecting the present condition of the country.

There was no way for Scuridiae to pay off its debts now. They had made every cut imaginable, and raised taxes to the highest possible levels. There was only one solution now.

The Chequer called the Vixen Queen.

“Your invasion failed,” she stated as soon as the line connected. There was a slight echo on the other end; the Chequer was on speaker, most likely in the war chamber of Vulpus.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “The monkeys had a stronger defense than we anticipated.”

She was silent. The Chequer swallowed his pride and asked for a full bailout, giving the Queen the full extent of Scuridian debt. Someone gasped in the background.

“That…is sizable. What makes you think Vulpus even has that money?”

“We need help,” the Chequer whimpered. “I don’t know what else to do.”

The Queen sighed.

“I am inclined to aid you with a bailout, but only under certain conditions. Are you prepared to make concessions?”

The Chequer glanced at the Exchequer of Bank, his financial expert. He dipped his head.

“I am.”

“Good. First and foremost, this is a loan, not a gift. So you will have to repay this in time. We can hammer out a repayment plan when the war is over and you have a better understanding of your assets. I say this because you cannot expect to gain much from Summer Sun victory given your contributions. I would argue Vulpus and to a lesser extent Cervidium have born the brunt of battle. By accepting this bailout, you agree to give up your would-be territorial earnings of Simeone, Ursus, and part of Canis. Furthermore, you will have to relinquish part of your own territory to the Vulpus Empire. What are your thoughts?”

Had she had asked that years ago, the Chequer would have been indignant. But he could see his options were below minimal. Without a bailout, the country would collapse. Simeone could invade, the tide of the war may change, and then Scuridiae would be worse off. He already believed Scuridiae was going to be lucky to escape this war with its own territorial borders intact, but he hated the idea of losing part of his nation to the foxes.

“I understand your conditions. Simeone, Canis, and Ursus are yours. How much of Scuridiae are you thinking of taking from me?”

“The area north of the Asunder River.”

The Chequer closed his eyes. The provinces in the north of Scuridiae were some of the most profitable. Over 100,000 chipmunks lived there.

“Are you willing to negotiate on that?”

“I am not. Unless you want to reduce the size of your bailout.”

The Exchequer of Bank shook his head adamantly.

“Fine. I accept your terms.”

“Hold on,” the Vixen Queen crooned, “I have one more condition. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, good Chequer. Scuridiae will not continue on as a Kingdom. You will demote yourself to a principality, just as Harald Hornover did with Capricon. You will report to me as your Queen. In return, you and your family will retain your position at the head of the principality, and you may keep your title of Chequer.”

The Chequer felt all the breath go out of him. He could suddenly see the cold calculating mind of the Vixen Queen spinning all those years ago when she dragged him into her war. He had been the first ally to rush to her aid, back when the assassination of Victoria Vixen was the only cause for conflict. Was he misled? Had she wanted him to join only for this to finally transpire eighteen years later?

Scuridiae was dying, but not as the fallen Granite Bloc nations died. This was a slower, worse fate. He would remain in power only nominally as all authority was transferred to his once-ally. At the war’s beginning, when all eighteen nations were initially caught in a conflict everyone believed to be over soon, there had been seven allies of the Summer Sun. Where were they now?

*Macaw Arini of Psittancyna. Murdered.*

*Stag Ellis of Cervidium. Murdered.*

*King Poultrus III of Gallix. Murdered.*

*William X of Capricon. Died.*

*Queen Roxane II of Felexa. In exile.*

Only the Vixen Queen and Chequer Vincent remained. That evidently meant nothing to the Vixen Queen. She did not care about the chipmunks, or the Chequer. She only wanted power for her and the foxes.

He should be incensed. He should be furious. He should refuse her terms and fight on, but Scuridiae’s debts ran too deep for him to have that choice. Vincent would have to sacrifice everything to preserve the heart of the nation.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But I have a condition too.”

“Name it.”

“None of this becomes public knowledge until after the war is won. I can’t have my soldiers turn on me until victory is secured. Can that be arranged?”

“It can. The money will be in your treasury by week’s end. Use it wisely, good Chequer, or you will find yourself in a far worse situation.”

The line went dead, leaving the Chequer with only silence to ponder the threat in her last words.

—The Jewel, Baahaa, Capricon—

—Principality of the Goats—

-February 26, 725-

Ruling Capricon was simple for Prince Harald Hornover. Almost all of its able-bodied citizens were conscripted for the war, leaving a dearth of population. There was only the one city to be concerned with, and it had over a decade since its conquest by the Granite Bloc and five years since its reconquest by the Summer Sun to rebuild. Saving the Hornovers from poverty themselves was the cache of precious stones stashed under the Jewel before they were forced into house arrest by the Granite Bloc.

The Hornovers had perished in great numbers in the war, first due to battle and then due to plague. Harald was the last of his siblings left alive, as even his sisters died from the plague. Harald’s wife, Eva Hornover, had born the couple one daughter.

They named her Willow, in honor of Harald’s father King William X. Under the old Capricovian law, Willow Hornover would be excluded from the line of succession, as only men were allowed to inherit the crown. However, due to the Vixen Queen’s interference with Capricovian laws, Willow was now next-in-line to the principality’s highest office. Willow was going to turn three in April.

Harald, Eva, and Willow were in the Jewel’s observatory. Eva was looking through a telescope at the stars, and Willow was drawing. She held colored pencils with her first and slashed paper in colorful strokes.

“Tomorrow would have been father’s birthday,” Harald muttered. Eva pulled her eye out of the telescope’s viewing pane.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He’d die to see the country today.”

Eva shook her head, but did not reply. Harald angled his head at her.

“Do you not agree?”

Eva sighed.

“I agree, but I don’t see how that matters now. As far as things go for you and your family, this is probably one of the better situations. We aren’t fully conquered, we have autonomy, Willow is safe and will have a role in the future. The people are angry at the Vixen Queen, but not us. Nothing lasts forever. Just be patient, and perhaps our time will come.”

Harald thought for a few minutes. Eva appeared grateful for the silence, and was then annoyed when Harald broke it.

“Scuridiae and Psittancyna will splinter. Valda will see to that. Their territories will be stripped, and I bet a war between Cervidium and Vulpus will break out one day. And only one of them will survive. That’s what this all is: a battle royale where only a single victor will prevail.”

Eva glanced at him.

“Who do you think the victor will be?”

Without missing a beat, Harald responded with,

“The Vixen Queen.”

—Highland Castle, West Terrier, Canis—

—March 12, 725—

Evangelina Connelly had grown up during the war, and to her that was normal. She could not remember at all a time before war. Her Uncle Bentley had always been King in her memory, though she had been three when her grandfather King Ewan died. She had no recollection of her mother, but was extremely close with her father. A few years back, he came out as gay to her, and their bond had strengthened tenfold.

Evangelina’s primary schooling ended when she was eighteen, and then it just stopped. Usually, she’d go off to university and practice a trade and provide value to her country, but all the colleges were closed due to the war. She had always been fascinated by the law, and so she took it upon herself these past two years to study it herself. She would spend hours in the castle’s library, poring over legal texts and bills passed through Parliament. A major motivation for becoming a lawyer was so that she could push for a repeal on all laws limiting same-sex relationships. Thumper Connelly, her loving father, may be afraid to act but she was not. One consequence of being a child of war was inherent bravery.

Evangelina pulled another book of law off the library shelf and dropped it into her bag. She wanted to read this one tonight before bed. As she zipped the backpack closed, she heard someone yell in the corridor. At first, it seemed as if she imagined it, but then it came again. Heavy footsteps ran past. Evangelina went to open the door.

One of the foxes in Queen Roxanne’s entourage was sprinting away. A rabbit from Leprolia was not far behind. Evangelina stopped her.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” the rabbit replied breathlessly. “Someone said the Summer Sun is broadcasting something. I heard it’s bad!”

Evangelina dropped the bookbag and ran to the war chamber. She was one of the last people to arrive. All the big names were there. Uncle Bentley, Dad, Queen Roxanne, Jacquetta Lazoy, Zamora Lazoy, Lionel Lazoy, Maximilian Walters, Minerva Taylor, Farress Nilia, Crown Prince Amin Hotep, King Cottontail X, Azure Oldman, Glaucous Oldman, Celeste Oldman, Carolina Oldman, Jasiri Tatum, Card Tatum, and more. The room was packed. Everyone was staring up at the large television monitor hanging on the back wall.

The image was startling. There was no sound. Twenty or more chairs were lined against a plan beige wall. Each chair was occupied by a bound, gagged, and blindfolded person. There were horses, elephants, mice, ducks, crocodiles, cats, pigs, and rabbits.

“What is this?” Evangelina asked Maximilian Walters, who was closest to her. He shook his head.

“I don’t know. It’s been like this for a while.”

Evangelina felt a horrible sensation of dread creeping up her spine. The room silently watched for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the camera turned and zoomed in on the first chair on the far left. A minute later, a fox walked up behind the chair and removed the blindfold from the seated horse.

“Oh God of Heaven!” Farress Nilia cried. “It’s Bask Caligari!”

Evangelina went cold. The camera panned to the right, revealing Bask’s daughter Karinna Caligari. Then his wife, Amber. One by one, the blindfolds were revealed. Members of the extended Leprolian, Willonian, Mallardian, and Equestrian royal families were unmasked. Nilia and Amin Hotep gasped in horror when three of Nilia’s cousins were there, crying into the camera. The Lazoys were equally terrified to see one of Jacquetta’s younger siblings in one of the chairs. Two of Sterling and Glaucous Oldman’s siblings—Peter and Hazel Oldman—were there. The final occupant was Babar Nguvu.

“Daddy!” Card Tatum shrieked.

“What is this?” Azure Oldman shouted. “Does anyone know?”

“I have no idea,” Minerva Taylor gasped. “But…”

The camera moved back down the line to Bask Caligari. The unidentified fox walked behind him and removed his gag. He began screaming at the camera, but there was still no audio. Then, he was shot in the head from behind.

The room descended into chaos.

“Oh, the Gods!”

“Get the kids out of here!”

“No! No, no, no!”

“Get the Vixen Queen on the phone! NOW!”

The captives were executed, one by one. Evangelina could not look away. Tears streamed down her face as the innocents were murdered. Dad found her and tried to yank her into the hall, but she refused his grip.

“NO!” Nilia screamed in anguish as her cousins were shot. Mercy did not come for any of them. Nguvu was shot last. All of them died.

The camera silently panned back, revealing the line of twenty-two victims. Evangelina was silently counting. Dad was still holding onto her hand as the screen faded to black. Words in white appeared.

*Bentley Connelly*

*Roxanne Lazoy*

*Sterling Oldman*

*Daisy Mus*

*Bella Mallard*

*Ham Mercury*

*Clarence Truett*

*Card Tatum*

*Bacon Hamleigh*

*Nilia Hotep*

*Navarra Caligari*

*Archibald Rose*

*You are next. Your families are next.*

*Surrender, or accept this fate.*

—That Night—

“We have to get them out of here,” Maximilian Walters murmured. “This world is not safe for any royal.”

Lionel Lazoy lifted his head.

“What do you mean?”

Max kicked his leg against one of the desks in the library.

“I mean what you’ve been saying. Maybe there is something beyond here. At this point, anywhere is better than here. The monarchs and the heirs of Cartonia—of the Granite Bloc, I mean—are imperative to this nation’s survival. I believe if we leave the Summer Sun to rule Cartonia, they will weaken and destroy themselves and then maybe we can mount a future assault.”

“So what?” Minerva groaned. “You want to send all the monarchs and heirs out on the water and have them return when it’s safe to do so? There’s nowhere for them to go.”

“Yeah,” Lionel agreed, “and why them? Sure, the royals are important, but every life is important.”

Max bit his lip. He had seen today that no one in the royal families was safe, even those far from the throne and power. The Summer Sun would do anything to consolidate their control, and if they won this war, they’d murder every last dynast. There would be no one to challenge them. He shared this with Lionel and Minerva, who took this idea in silence.

“Well,” Minerva said at last, “it makes sense that we’d want to look for an exit. Some sort of way out. But there isn’t one. If there was a form of egress, someone would have taken it by now.”

“The Expanse,” Lionel muttered. “I’ve been saying it for years. If we can get over the Vixen Cliffs, we can head south into the Expanse. There might be something there. A colony, or a whole other Kingdom. We don’t know.”

Max was skeptical. He had read every expedition log from those who went over the Cliffs. The groups were always small, less than a dozen, and very few returned. They said the Expanse was hot, arid, unpopulated, desolate, a wasteland. The ones who made it furthest described jagged mountains capped with record-deep snowfalls and prone to heavy avalanches. Getting a hundred or more Cartonians over the Cliffs without Vulpus knowing was a mammoth task in itself, much less the trek south.

“Getting over the Cliffs is impossible. The Vixen Queen will notice non-foxes traversing her territory. And the Cliffs are heavily patrolled. The mines are so valuable…”

“Not the Cliffs,” Lionel interjected. “The Vulpus Dam is not patrolled. It’s a working facility, and sparsely managed. If I’m remembering correctly, they usually only have a few dozen foxes on staff at the Dam at a given time.”

“That could have changed since the war began,” Minerva yawned. “The Dam keeps the Vulpus Reservoir full, and they’ve been using that water source very strategically.”

“Then we go around the Vixen Cliffs,” Lionel theorized. “The Eastern Ocean.”

“Hurricane Haven,” Max said simply. It was enough to rule it out. The Eastern Ocean was impassable. Hurricanes and cyclones destroyed every ship in its wake. No one had gone through Hurricane Haven and survived. Not one soul.

“So the Dam?” Lionel posited. Max shook his head.

“What are we doing?”

Lionel stared.

“What do you mean? We’re discussing a way out of Cartonia.”

“I know,” Max mumbled. “What I’m trying to say is, why are we wasting our time talking about it? What good will it do? There is no way out of Cartonia. This whole continent is supposed to be a safe place from wherever our ancestors fled. No one can get past the crags in the west, the hurricanes in the east, the ice sheet in the north, and the cliffs in the south. The Vixen Queen will impede any escape attempt once she realizes it’s going on.”

“But if we could get to the Dam…” Lionel insisted.

“It wouldn’t matter!” Max cried. “We can’t ask your mother, or Zamora, or Bentley for that matter, to scale down a thousand feet of sheer rock! That’s how all the expeditions into the Expanse have lowered themselves from our perch. The Cliffs are a dead end. The Dam might be less patrolled, but *nothing* leaves the Dam except runoff water and…”

Max froze. Even his breathing paused. Lionel and Minerva stared at him. They glanced at each other when Max remained quiet, and Minerva nudged him with her foot.

“Max?”

“And the waste receptacles…”

“The what?” Minerva replied in confusion. Max stood and held up his paws.

“Give me a minute. Let me…”

He paced around the desk, deep in thought. Then, he hurried over to the library database and began scrolling through old documents. Minerva and Lionel came to peer over his shoulder.

“Are those your own college essays?” Minerva asked in amusement. Max nodded but didn’t say anything until he found the one he was thinking of. Lionel squinted at the title.

“*Waste Management at the Vixen Cliffs* by Maximilian Walters. You wrote a paper about that?”

“I did,” Max muttered. “I took a class on geology, which was very boring, but I was able to twist the final paper prompt so I could write about the waste disposal system at the Vulpus Dam, which I found fascinating.”

Minerva repressed a snicker. Max ignored her and read over his own writing. The knowledge he picked up from his research came creeping back.

“Okay,” he said finally, sitting back in his chair, “I don’t know if what I’m going to tell you is still accurate. This was years before the war, and obviously a lot has changed. But the mines on the Vixen Cliffs generate a lot of waste. Rock, dirt, trash, et cetera. They used to just chuck all the garbage over the Cliffs, but one time a load of garbage ricocheted off the ground and shot back into the Cliffs, and a whole bunch of rubies spilled out and were lost into the Expanse. The Vixen Queen at the time was furious, and so they commissioned these special spherical waste receptacles that are dropped out of the Vulpus Dam each month and projected far away from the Cliffs so that none of their mining ore is damaged or lost.”

“Seems like a lot of work,” Minerva noted. Max shrugged.

“The ships don’t have to be anything special. They’re not reused. They’re loaded with garbage, dug up rock and dirt, and then lowered into the Dam’s Lower Basin. From there, a bell-mouth spillway—“

“A what?”

Max loaded an image on the computer. An aerial view of the Lower Basin of the Vulpus Dam showed what looked like an enormous whirlpool sucking water into a large pipe.

“Bell-mouth spillway. It drains water from the Dam. The Lower Basin of the Dam is the reservoir of last resort. Usually, it’s empty, but can fill if the Vulpus Reservoir overflows. The bell-mouth drains when it overflows, and with that torrent of water goes the waste receptacles. Sometimes the foxes just load regular garbage from landfills into the receptacles, since it gets the trash out of Cartonia altogether. The area at the base of the Dam is one of the filthiest places on the continent. They’ve been dumping trash there for decades.”

“Lovely,” Lionel muttered. “Why is this important?”

Max sighed.

“If you can get to the Dam, you can get into a waste receptacle, and drop through the bell-mouth spillway out of Cartonia. That might be the way out.”

Lionel and Minerva were quiet. Minerva clucked her tongue.

“Is it safe?”

“Probably not,” Max replied. “The waste receptacles are only built to withstand the force of the bell-mouth spillway and subsequent drainage. They are certainly not meant to preserve Cartonian life, or survive the impact after being ejected from the Dam’s chute.”

Max stood to face his compatriots.

“The way I see it, this would require an enormous amount of planning, coordination, and secrecy. We would have to somehow determine what the conditions are like at the Vulpus Dam without going there ourselves, or having the Vixen Queen find out what we’re researching. We’ll have to figure out how we would even get the royals to the Dam in the first place. We’re over a thousand miles away, with only enemy territory between us. Which royals would we take? How do we decide? Are we ourselves going? There are many—“

“Wait,” Lionel said, his voice soft. “I know we were talking about this before very hypothetically. But now you’re making me think this is really possible. Before I get too excited, be honest, Max. Can the trash ships ferry us out of Cartonia?”

Max crossed his arms.

“Waste receptacles. And I think so. There might be enough water and trash at the bottom of the Dam to cushion the impact. We can bring helmets and other portable protections. From there, we could walk south.”

“How many people could fit into a trash ship?” Minerva inquired.

“Waste receptacle,” Max corrected again. “I’m not sure. They carry a ton of waste, I can tell you that. Maybe several hundred could fit. But we wouldn’t take that many, would we?”

Minerva shrugged.

“I’d think we’d want to save as many as possible.”

“What’s the ultimate goal here?” Lionel posited. “What are we trying to do? Start a new civilization?”

Max guffawed.

“Don’t be ridiculous! No royal would permanently abandon Cartonia and their Kingdom. This is a temporary escape so we can explore the Expanse, see if there’s anyone out there that can help. When the time is right, we return and fight to reclaim our country.”

Lionel nodded.

“Who’s invited?”

Minerva counted all the monarchs, their heirs, and the immediate family members.

“Including us, that’s less than a hundred. But we’ll need funding. If this is going to become a real mission, we need approval from Bentley, Roxanne, all of them.”

“I know,” Max said. “The way I see it, we need a four-pronged plan.”

“Go on,”Lionel coaxed.

“First,” Max said, “we must determine the goal of this project. In the end, it’ll probably be the choice of the monarchs what they’d prefer. Once we know that, we can better determine who will be selected for this mission, and what that total number will be. If we mean to return and reclaim Cartonia, we’ll need soldiers. If we are building a temporary colony, we need builders. The amount of waste receptacles at the Dam is limited, and I have no idea how many are there now. When I studied for my paper, there were usually four or five on hand. That’s our maximum capacity.”

Max walked over to the map of Cartonia and traced the path from West Terrier to the Dam.

“Second, we must ascertain a safe way to exit Canis and reach the Vixen Cliffs.”

Minerva clapped her paws.

“The supply chains! They’re often unguarded the further you go. If we travel in covered vehicles, and disguise the cats as foxes…”

Lionel choked on his water.

“*What*? Dress us as foxes?”

Minerva shrugged.

“You look most like them. If cats are driving vehicles masquerading as foxes, we can hopefully get far into the Summer Sun. We have one major advantage: no one would ever expect this.”

“Third,” Max went on, “we must escape Cartonia through the Vulpus Dam. The waste receptacles might be our means, but they come laden with other dangers. In addition, the Dam is operated from a control room embedded in the rocky face surrounding the Dam. Someone will have to be in that control room to manage the water levels surrounding the bell-mouth spillway. If we survive the ejection from the Dam, we still have to escape south, in full view of the Cliffs. That brings me to the fourth prong of the plan: what comes next. What do we do once we’re out of Cartonia? We’ll be alone in a barren wilderness with all of Cartonian royalty, in a landscape so treacherous that even the best and strongest explorers did not return alive.”

“Then we’ll need the best and strongest to accompany us,” Lionel remarked. “Loyal Cartonians willing to preserve and protect their monarchs.”

Max nodded. The three cast glances between them.

“We have a long way to go,” Minerva commented, “but we have a fragile framework of a potential for freedom. We should type up a proposal tonight.”

“I’ll do it,” Max said and went back to the computer. The three royal historians spent the next few hours hammering out all the ideas and details they could muster. They did not shy away from the dangers and prospect of widespread death, including capture and torture by the Vixen Queen should they be caught at or before reaching the Dam.

Once they had the bones of a proposal in writing, Max walked it to Bentley Connelly. He was about to turn in for the night, but accepted the document.

“Please read it as soon as you can,” Max urged. Bentley eyed him with caution.

“Why? What is it?”

Max sighed.

“Your Majesty, this might be our salvation.”

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

Matthew Palmer, a Sergeant in “Blood for Blood” has now achieved the second-highest rank of Lieutenant General.

The northern and southern Summer Sun fronts were merged, giving the Summer Sun a significant advantage.

Violetta Vixen, born in “The Lamps Are Going Out,” turned 16 and was formally appointed Crown Princess of Vulpus. The last person to hold the title was Victoria Vixen, who was assassinated in “Silent Night.”

Valencia Vixen secretly plotted with her daughter, Vanna Vixen, to overthrow Violetta Vixen when she became the next Vixen Queen.

King Horatio V of Equine Isle died after 72 years on the throne. He passed his broken kingdom to Heredera Navarra Caligari.

Chequer Vincent requested a full economic bailout from the Vixen Queen in exchange for the loss of nearly all of his promised wartime gains and most of his kingdom. In addition, Scuridiae would be demoted to principality, just like Capricon. In the season 3 episode “Wistful Oceans,” Scuridiae is said to be a principality.

Over 20 members of the extended Granite Bloc families were executed on live television by Vulpus, including Babar Nguvu. The act of terror caused Maximilian Walters, Minerva Taylor, and Lionel Lazoy to plan an escape from Cartonia.

### References

King Horatio V’s reign of 72 years is a reference to King Louis XIV of France, whose 72-year reign is the longest verified monarchical reign of any sovereign nation in history.

The Union of Cervidian Centralized States (UCCS) is based on the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR).

## Trivia

* The title of this episode is Latin for "to die for one's country." It is part of a poem by Roman poet Horace: "*Dulce et decorum est **pro patria mori.**"* The lines are used critically in the poem "Dulce et Decorum est" by Wilfred Owen during World War I: "My friend, you would not tell with such high zest / To children ardent for some desperate glory / The old Lie: *Dulce et Decorum est / **pro patria mori**."* Following Owen's poem and World War I, "***pro patria mori***" faded from use in government propaganda and on war memorials and instead was used as a condemnation of war.
	+ The line was quoted in English by Stag Barrow in his address to the nation: "There is no greater honor than **to die for one’s country**."
	+ This is the only episode of *War* to not have its episode title quoted verbatim.
* “Hirsch” of Hirschstag means “deer” in German.