A Bell Cast In Iron

**A Bell Cast In Iron** will be the special Christmas episode preceding *Revolution* and the 75th episode overall.

The episode will be released on Christmas Eve, December 24, 2021.

In the episode, years after the War concluded in Cartonia, Hamish McRory continues to share his story to those who will listen with the hope of sowing the seeds of revolution.

## Promotion

On December 17, 2021, a trailer for the Christmas Special was released. The video is to the left. The trailer names Hamish McRory as a featured cast member, and alludes to another character called The Traveler.

The trailer is very similar to the ones for "Silent Night" and "Hollow Crown." All three feature some variation of "Carol of the Bells." This year's music is the original Ukrainian folk song, "Shchedryk."

## The Episode

—South Terrier, Former Canis, Vulpus Empire—

—December 24, 776—

—52 Years After the War—

On Christmas Eve, among the foothills of Highland Munro, in the tiny hamlet of South Terrier, beleaguered dogs gathered to hear a traveler’s tale. He had come from Phantine, and before that Ursus, snaking his way across the continent with a mission, a purpose. To sow the seeds of revolution in the infertile hearts of the oppressed.

South Terrier once existed in blazing sunlight, nuzzled against the base of Highland Castle’s mighty mountain. The bastion of Canisian royalty once towered above them as a beacon of what their nation was and could be. Then, the War arrived. Eighteen years later, Canis fell and Cartonia too. Vulpus’s flag unfurled from the towers of Highland Castle. The Connelly royal family disintegrated. King Bentley II was executed. Prince Thumper Connelly and his daughter, Princess Evangelina, vanished. Vulpus occupied the land, and South Terrier’s citizens were enslaved to the new masters of Highland Castle.

The traveler himself was weary, not just from his journey to the village but from a lifetime of statelessness. He had no home, no shelter, no safety. He must remain on the move, else be caught by the foxes. For the tale he carried with him was his weapon, and it was aimed at the Vixen Queen and her titanic army of followers. It was illegal to point a weapon at the Vixen Queen.

He was given refuge for the night by a kind couple, a cook and the head butler at Highland Castle. The traveler knocked on their door the night before, begging for sanctuary. The wife had admitted him without question. The husband, upon seeing the traveler’s ragged cloak and exhausted eyes, quickly leapt to service. It was the nature of those who worked in the palaces, always quick to help.

The traveler eyed the red and black livery of the head butler. The uniform had changed, as had the title. It was a post once held by the indomitable Callum Clackmannan. Long dead.

The traveler asked the couple to inform the trusted citizens of South Terrier that a tale was to be shared the following night in the village’s tavern. The turnout was large, but quiet. Some snuck in through the back, others under the guise of darkness. It was Christmas Eve, so most of the foxes were celebrating in their own taverns in the capital.

The shudders were pulled over the tavern’s windows, and two dogs kept a careful eye out for Vulpine patrol guards.

The traveler sat alone against the wall, cloaked and ensconced in shadow. His whitened grey paws nursed a stein of ale.

“We’ve come to hear your tale!” a castle maid announced. “Do you bring news from the south?”

South Terrier, like so many communities across post-war Cartonia, had been isolated from its resources. Telephones, televisions, even newspapers were revoked. Castle staff went to extreme ends to learn what was occurring in the world beyond.

“Queen Vixen IX is dead. Her daughter is now Vixen X.”

“We knew that,” the castle maid retorted. “Chatter at the palace.”

“Why have you come here?” a man demanded. “Why have you come to South Terrier?”

“To tell my story. I have been traveling all over Cartonia. I bring hope.”

Someone scoffed.

“Hope is dead. We are slaves now.”

“Who are you?” the castle maid demanded. “Why should we listen to you?”

The traveler smiled. Skepticism was common among the masses. No one could be trusted, which was why the traveler always visited places unarmed. And unmasked.

He removed his hood, and let it fall around his aged face. The crowd was younger, too young to remember him. It had been years since he had fled the capital of Canis.

“My name is Hamish McRory. I was the last valet to King Bentley II. I was posted at Highland Castle for five years under Callum Clackmannan in service to the King. I escaped thanks to the King’s valor and kindness. I have returned to share that story with you.”

The room was silent, mouths agape.

“*You’re* Hamish…” the castle maid muttered. She saluted. Several followed suit. Hamish waved his arms, beckoning them to stand down.

“I did not come to for adulation. Sit back, sit down, and listen.”

His reputation preceded him. His travels had taken him far across the land, to the smallest villages and even the major cities. Everywhere he could.

For the people of South Terrier, Hamish took his time expounding upon the tale he had carried with him for fifty years. How he had served at the King’s side for the last five years of the War, dutifully helping Bentley Connelly construct his elaborate plan to ferry the heirs of the Granite Bloc dynasties out of Cartonia. How the King had not allowed Highland Castle or the capital of West Terrier to be destroyed in the inevitable invasion by the Summer Sun, and how he had given his life to ensure Hamish’s escape.

Most importantly, Hamish urged the people to remember that the royal heirs to the fallen Granite Bloc thrones had indeed escaped. That the whole destruction of the Vulpus Dam had been their doing, not a spontaneous infrastructure failure. Among the escapees was Crown Prince Thumper Connelly, the rightful heir to the throne of Canis. If he was dead, then his daughter Evangelina carried the inheritance.

“They’re dead,” someone scowled. “They’re not coming back.”

“But they *are*!” Hamish insisted. “They escaped, they live, and they will return. Bentley said to me, ‘when all the lamps are black and the land is barren of happiness, if Cartonia is fortunate, and the universe is righteous, the children of the free will venture back and be our deliverance.’”

The room was quiet in awe. As clear as if it was yesterday, Hamish could still remember those words spoken to him as Bentley hid him away in a secret passageway behind the mirror. He refused to flee, and so Hamish left Highland Castle alive but alone.

Suddenly, one of the lookouts shouted,

“PATROL!”

“Hide him!” Hamish’s hosts hissed. The head butler grabbed the hem of Hamish’s coat and pulled him behind the bar. Moving two heavy barrels of ale, the butler kicked open a passageway concealed behind the wine rack. It was a small opening, and Hamish worried he’d even fit.

“I’ll hide with him. Keep him safe!”

Hamish turned to see who had spoken. It was a cloaked figure. The head butler nodded and the cloaked man gave Hamish a gentle shove toward the hole. Hamish was too old to crawl, but he nonetheless moved as quickly as possible into the hovel.

The door of the tavern opened just as the barrels were moved back into place. The familiar jingle of a guard’s chains echoed across the room. Hamish felt himself flashing backward to that final day at the King’s side. Hidden again, listening beyond a trapdoor.

“This is a large gathering,” the guard fox sneered.

“It’s my birthday, sir,” the head butler piped up. “I’m 50.”

The fox scoffed.

“Congratulations, you old fossil. We’ve had reports of a wanted criminal coming through here.”

Hamish’s heart began to pound. The stranger hiding with him patted him for reassurance.

“A criminal?” the head butler asked for clarification.

“Oh, yes,” the guard said after a pause. “He was here. I can *smell him*.”

“What kind of criminal?” the head butler pressed. “Should we be worried?”

The guard laughed.

“I wonder. *Search the tavern!*”

Hamish flattened his paw against his mouth, drowning out the sound of his own breathing.

“He’s not here, sir!” a fox reported after several agonizing minutes.

“Search again!”

Glass shattered nearby, just beyond the wall. The stranger tugged on Hamish’s arm, gesturing toward the darkened passage.

“Who are you searching for?” someone asked innocently.

“Matthew Palmer.”

Hamish gasped. Matthew Palmer…in Canis? It wasn’t likely! Hamish had heard of the fabled fox building a resistance in Cervidium, along with the Porcinian fugitive Diana Loudoun. They were the two most wanted people in all of Cartonia. In all likelihood, both were dead. They were older than Hamish, and he was already approaching his twilight years.

Matthew Palmer was like a personal hero to Hamish. A fox high in the ranks of the military, who turned on the Vixen Queen and helped shatter the Dam to dismantle Vulpus from within.

“We haven’t seen Matthew Palmer,” someone said confidently. “Not here, not at the castle. He’s dangerous, isn’t he?”

“Extremely. All of you, disperse. Back to your homes! NOW! Soldiers, search the bar again. Tear it apart!”

The stranger pressed forcefully on Hamish’s arm.

“Come on,” he hissed. “We have to go out this way.”

The stranger got on all fours and padded along the passageway. Hamish followed in the cramped quarters. The only light came from the stranger’s tiny flashlight. After many minutes, they emerged outside by the stream running from South Terrier out of the capital region. Hamish could see in the moonlight that the stranger wore an oddly-shaped rectangular backpack. Both took a moment to stretch, and the stranger bent over, panting.

“I need to go back,” Hamish announced. “If Matthew Palmer is in the village, I must speak to him.”

“Why?” the stranger rasped. “Isn’t he dead?”

“None of us know for sure.”

The stranger shrugged, his face still obscured.

“Who are you?” Hamish asked.

In answer, the stranger lowered his hood, and Hamish recoiled.

His face was a square, hacked at the sides where the cheeks once extended. His ears were pinned back, and his snout had been surgically shortened. The fur on his paws was shaved off, and he had scarily long talons. The man was old, older than Hamish, and scarred badly. The longer Hamish stared, the less convinced he was of this person’s species. Cat? Dog? Mouse? Horse, even?

“Well, well,” the man said with a smile, “two fugitives walk into a bar…”

Hamish’s mouth fell all the way open.

“Matthew bleeding Palmer!”

“Guilty as charged,” Matthew winked. “I’ve heard you share your tale several times, Hamish McRory. But I’ve never had the honor of meeting you properly.”

“The honor is mine!”

“We don’t have long, I’m afraid. I was careless going through the village. I was spotted. I must go before I endanger the kind people of South Terrier. I have something I must give you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Is Diana Loudoun alive too?”

Matthew’s eyes faded.

“I’m afraid not. She died two decades ago. I buried her in Porcinia.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Where are you going next?”

Hamish paused for a moment.

“West Terrier. I have to see what’s become of it.”

“You won’t like it,” Matthew promised. “Especially its new name. Valdastadt.”

Queen Vixen VII’s greatest conquest was West Terrier. Though she never saw the city fall herself, having perished at the Dam, the city was renamed in her honor. In ancient Vulpine, “*stadt*” meant “grand city.” The Grand City of Valda Vixen, named for the Queen of Vulpus during the Age of Conquest.

“Nonetheless,” Hamish sighed. “I wish to see my old home. One last time.”

Matthew nodded.

“I understand. I wish I could do the same, but my hometown is gone now.”

He removed his backpack and set it at Hamish’s feet. Hamish saw that it was more of a box with straps.

“I’m giving you this. I entrust you with it.”

Hamish knelt and removed the lid. Something was sparkling within.

“Is that…?”

“The Harmony Crown, yes.”

Hamish gaped down at it. Even in the darkness, it glittered. This was the symbol of peace that was lost at the beginning of the War. Hamish believed it to be destroyed.

“How did you come upon this?” Hamish asked, stunned.

Matthew smiled.

“I once worked in a palace myself: the Rook of Vulpus, as personal page to Queen Vixen VII. I stole it shortly after she abolished the Harmony Crown institution. I kept it safely buried in my hometown for decades. But that town is gone now. Vanna Vixen turned it into a mining settlement the second they found rubies in the cliffs. The Crown wasn’t safe there anymore, so I’ve been carrying it with me across the continent. It’s time I pass it on. I entrust you with finding a safe place for it. I don’t know what fate it has, or if it will ever grace another head again. But that Crown represents the beating heart of peaceful, true Cartonia, and all eighteen of her species. It must be preserved.”

Hamish lifted the box, and dared to graze the embedded jewels of the diadem.

“Why me? I’m old too. My wandering days are nearing the end.”

Matthew rested a paw on Hamish’s shoulder. The sharp talons dug into his back.

“You know this continent better than anyone. You’ve traveled further than Diana or I ever could. We targeted the cities, the great population centers of the mighty and influential. You took the backroads, you went to the smallest villages and hamlets. You spoke to the people, to the masses. You have hidden yourself and have been hidden by others. I wager you already know where you will stash the Crown.”

Hamish nodded. One place had immediately come to mind. It was perfect.

“Does the new Vixen Queen know the Crown survives?”

“No. Valda Vixen saw to it that everyone believed the Crown was truly gone. As far as she knew, it was.”

“And why don’t you hide it yourself?”

Matthew’s smile faltered.

“I’m going into the belly of the beast. I’m going back to Vista.”

“Why?”

“To garner support. There are foxes who can help.”

Hamish withdrew, shrugging off Matthew’s sharp paw.

“*Never trust a fox!*”

Matthew smirked and gestured at himself.

“You’ll have to trust one sooner or later. We cannot take down Vulpus without foxes to support. The Vixen Queen projects an image of universal devotion to the Empire but that is simply not the truth. Many will join us in opposition, and we must build that bridge.”

Hamish fervently shook his head.

“The foxes are evil. I saw them in the War.”

Matthew sighed and lowered his head.

“If that is your view…then we may be lost forever.”

The two went silent, Hamish unsure what to say next. Matthew ultimately broke the silence.

“That Crown,” he said with direct eye contact, “is no longer just a symbol or an artifact. I have transformed it.”

Hamish scrunched up his thick eyebrows.

“What is it, then?”

Matthew stepped up to him and whispered in his ear. Hamish’s eyes bulged.

“I see…”

“That is what I have been working on. It will hopefully never come to that, but if it does…”

“I understand.”

Matthew pointed at the box.

“That is more than a tiara. It is more than regalia. It is a bell cast in iron, ready to be rung.” His eyes twinkled. “Do you trust me?”

Hamish surprised himself when he said yes. Matthew reached out and shook Hamish’s paw.

“Godspeed, Hamish McRory. It’s been an honor.”

He started to leave, but turned back to say, “Oh! And Merry Christmas!”

The infamous fox then scampered off, racing along the stream and into the shadows. Hamish watched him disappear. Once he was out of sight, Hamish tilted his head back to gaze up the mountaintop, to the twinkling lights of Highland Castle. His eyes returned to the Harmony Crown.

Nearly seventy years had passed since it was last worn by a monarch. Matthew was right; the Crown was a symbol. It could amplify Hamish’s message of hope. Hiding it was not enough, especially now that he knew of the Crown’s other purpose. Someone else had to know about it. Somebody would have to shield it after Hamish was dead. And somebody would have to know when to retrieve the Crown from its hiding place and restore it to the light.

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

Hamish McRory returned 52 years after his last appearance in “Bless My Homeland.” In that episode as well as “Epilogue,” Hamish was said to have told his story to countless people across Cartonia, a feat seen in this episode.

Hamish quoted King Bentley II’s last words to Hamish, spoken in both “Into the Fire” and “Bless My Homeland.” However, it is paraphrased.

Queen Vixen IX, known as Vanna Vixen during the events of *War*, had died by this time and was succeeded by her unnamed daughter. “Epilogue” did state she had reigned for fifty years.

Diana Loudoun died two decades prior.

Matthew Palmer bequeathed Hamish the Harmony Crown, having kept it safe since he stole it in “The Lamps Are Going Out.” The Crown had been altered in an undisclosed way, a secret that Hamish was instructed to keep guarded.

West Terrier was renamed Valdastadt after Queen Valda Vixen (Queen Vixen VII).

## Trivia

* The title of this episode was quoted by Matthew Palmer in reference to the Harmony Crown: "That is more than a tiara. It is more than regalia. It is **a bell cast in iron**, ready to be rung."
* This is the shortest episode of Storytime at 2,655 words. It beat the previous record-holder, season 2 episode "Dim as an Ember" by about 300 words.
* With only two credited cast members, this episode has the shortest cast in Storytime history, beating season 4 episode "Where the Anomaly Lay," which had 3.
* This episode was originally the prologue to the season 5 premiere episode, "Aurora," but was cut out and moved to be a Christmas special instead.
* This is the only Christmas special to be published on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day.
* This is the only episode to feature one single scene.
* This is the only Christmas special to not feature a title sequence.
	+ The reason for this was to hide the fact that Matthew Palmer was the Stranger.