Never Trust a Fox

**"Never Trust a Fox"**is the nineteenth episode of *War* and the 68th episode overall.

The episode was published on May 2, 2021.

In the episode, maritime warfare infests the seas, putting Eusuchia and Equine Isle at considerable risk.

## Appendix

Episode Title Card**A:** Map of the War, 723**B:** Eusuchian Royal Family, 723**C:** Equestrian Royal Family, 723**D:** Ursine Royal Family, 723**E:** Psittancynesian Royal Family, 723**F:** Scuridian Royal Family, 723**G:** The Pyramid, Sobek City, Eusuchia**H:** Races, Equus, Equine Isle**I:** Bucktooth Castle, Port Tamias, Scuridiae
## The Episode

*—Diary of Lana Loudoun—*

*—February 12, 723—*

*For some reason, Leprolia has still not been formally annexed, though the entire nation is under the control of the Summer Sun and has been for over a year. The invasion of Leprolia and the subsequent attacks were chiefly carried out by the deer of Cervidium. We all thought Stag Barrow would immediately merge the rabbit Kingdom into his own, as he did with Felexa and half of Gallix. But…something is stalled. Nicholas has heard rumors that the Vixen Queen is attempting to claim it herself. I honestly hope that is the case, for if a wedge were driven between the Stag and the Vixen Queen…there is hope for internal combustion of the Summer Sun alliance.*

*Bovo has been invaded too, though they seem prepared and armed. Granite Bloc news sources report that only the southwest of the country is under attack. The other trenches have held.*

*There’s a royal broadcast tonight from the Pink Palace. The King will address his subjects. I’ll write another entry if he says anything important.*

—The Pyramid, Sobek City, Eusuchia—

—Kingdom of the Crocodiles—

—March 8, 723—

Amin Hotep was the only remaining child of Farress Nilia of Eusuchia. His two brothers, Tut and Seti, had died of the plague. Tut was older, and was the Crown Prince until his death. Mother never recovered from their deaths, and still wore black everyday in perpetual mourning. She spent probably half her day praying in the temples, and visiting the mausoleum of her dead sons. Father died before the war even began, and so it was just Amin and his mother left.

The two grew closer in part due to the mutual trauma. Until the vaccine was disseminated, Amin had expected himself to die as well. Growing up in the midst of the war was a sad experience, his childhood and youth ripped away. He often found himself at odds with the Fate God, asking repeatedly why this war was allowed, and why Eusuchia blindly followed Willie into the conflict. Had the Farress rejected the initial alliance, perhaps Eusuchia would have remained outside of the war. It was already an island, far from the fighting. The crocodiles had been fighting naval battles, and struggling to maintain sovereignty of their island.

The Vulpus Armada and Scuridian Fleet frequently sailed close to the Eusuchian shores and fired upon the sands. All the beach-dwelling crocodiles had already been evacuated inland. For over a decade, the homes on the oceanfronts had become abandoned relics of a time before conflict. The beaches were converted into rocket launching stations, and the crocodiles retaliated against Vulpine aggression with missiles that almost always missed their intended targets. The Scuridian Fleet was the swiftest, bolstered by technology from the seafaring chipmunks of Scuridiae.

The major issue Eusuchia faced was the long-standing embargo of the northern deltas, administered by the Vulpus Armada, severing the arrival of supplies from nearby Equine Isle. Eusuchia was self-sufficient, but relied on Equine Isle to provide some of their weaponry, which the horses themselves got from Ursus.

And perhaps today, at long last, that embargo would be lifted. Eusuchia was a wealthy country, and had a large cache of precious minerals beneath Sobek City. The capital was located at the nexus of all the island’s major rivers, and the fertile ground gave rise to an inordinate amount of minerals in the sands. The foxes of Vulpus were willing to end the embargo in exchange for a small portion of minerals, though they refused to share what they needed this for. Mother, as Farress, was open to hearing their request and negotiating, but was not likely to give away anything without an assurance that the embargo would be permanently halted.

Amin expected Vulpus to send some D-List diplomat from the back channels of the Vulpine government, someone expendable, and someone with a scripted approach. What surprised everyone was that the Vixen Queen was sending her only son, Vangar Vixen, to lead negotiations.

In many ways, Vangar was more of an E-List celebrity in Vulpus. Men in the royal family were almost not even people themselves. They were not permitted to hold jobs, but they had no official role in the royal family. The Vixen Queens held all the power, and passed all duties to their surviving daughters. The King Consort of Vulpus, the Vixen Queen’s husband, was so unknown that Amin didn’t even know his name. Or if he was still alive. He was hardly ever seen with her, and had served his duty multiple times by providing the Vixen Queen with three daughters.

Amin was just a boy when Veronica and Vina Vixen killed each other in a controversial duel that eradicated the Vixen Queen’s direct line of succession. The death of Victoria Vixen complicated things further, until the Vixen Queen birthed Violetta Vixen.

Farress Nilia and Amin completely forgot about Vangar Vixen, but Mother was actually placated by his selection. Back when all the nations spoke to each other with nothing but peace and love in their hearts, Nilia and Vangar were well-acquainted. During the second-to-last Harmony Holiday Gala—the one which brought Bentley Connelly and Victoria Vixen together—Nilia and Vangar spent a considerable amount of the night talking to each other about their mutual interest in pottery, of all things.

In any case, as Amin and Nilia watched the Eusuchian river boat sail toward the docks of the Pyramid, this was the first time in sixteen years that a fox had stepped onto Eusuchian soil.

“He’s a nice man,” Mother muttered quietly from behind her black veil. She wore her standard black mourning garb, with the exception of the traditional red and white crown of Eusuchia. On the docks below, Vangar Vixen and his posse of fox guards were stepping toward the customs house.

“He was then,” Amin pointed out. “But is he now? Can we trust him now?”

“Foxes are untrustworthy nowadays. We’ll listen to what he has to say, and do what’s necessary to end the embargo, as long as it doesn’t risk our sovereignty. But in general…no we cannot trust him.”

Nilia hitched up the end of her long obsidian gown and led the way into the throne room, at the apex of the Pyramid. Mother sat on the golden throne sewn with purple velvet. Amin took his place beside her. Minutes later, Vangar Vixen entered. His brown face was aged sixteen years on from the last public photograph of him. He bowed at Mother.

“Nilia,” he stated, “what an honor it is to see you again.”

“Hmm,” Mother frowned. “I suppose it’s nice to make your acquaintance once more, but I hate the circumstances. It is your mother’s fault, of course, that we must meet like this. Regardless, we respect the principle of your visit and you are safe here in Sobek City. You are our welcomed guest.”

“Thank you,” Vangar replied, rising to full height. “It is a pleasure also to see your son so grown up. Prince Seti, I must—“

“This is Amin,” Mother spat, her voice cracked. “My sons Seti and Tut died of the plague. Surely you knew that?”

Vangar’s face blanched.

“Majesty…I am so sorry.”

“Farress,” Mother corrected. “You do not say ‘Majesty’ in address to me. You use my title.”

Vangar looked as if he had been slapped.

“I—you must forgive me. I have forgotten…”

“You’d think,” Mother seethed, her anger apparent, “that someone sent here on a diplomatic mission would be briefed on a nation’s customs. Or is our culture something to be scoffed at? Stuffed into a history book and forgotten? You and your mother are adamant on erasing civilizations from our map, and if you could have your way, you’d conquer this island. No, no, don’t deny it. I’ll hear your proposal for the raising of the embargo, but you will receive nothing higher than bare civility from me.”

Amin wanted to snap and clap for his mother, one of the strongest leaders Eusuchia had ever seen. Vangar appeared appalled, but composed himself.

“Apologies,” he muttered. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Please.”

Vangar unrolled a scroll passed to him by one of his posse. He glanced down at what was no doubt his script.

“Vulpus is prepared to retract all the ships blockading the ports of northern Eusuchia, for a monetary sum of twenty million marks.”

Mother’s eyebrows went up.

“What?”

“This can come in the form of mark notes, Eusuchian minerals, gems, stones, jewels, and other regalia. Or…”

“No,” Mother stated.

Vangar sighed.

“Vulpus is prepared to intensify the embargo, and spread it to the southern ports…”

“You may try,” Mother responded at once. “But you will not be successful. Your ships have never gotten close enough to our ports.”

Negotiations continued, the entire time with Vangar standing opposite Mother, reposed on her throne. Neither made any concessions. Mother offered 50,000 marks to release the embargo, which was easily interpreted as an insult. One of the members of Vangar’s posse actually sniggered when he heard it.

“Everyone is in debt,” Mother sighed. “I understand your need for money, but we need it for our defenses. We have survived for a decade with your embargo, and we will continue to do so.”

Vangar shrugged.

“Then I suppose we are at an impasse.”

Mother was staring at him with skepticism.

“You did not come here to reach an impasse.”

Vangar shrugged again, but did not move. Mother beckoned to one of the sentinels, adorned in golden armor plating. He bent down to her so she may whisper in his ear. Amin could hear each word from the Farress’s lips.

“Check the southern ports.”

Vangar lifted a paw.

“Is there a problem?”

“I don’t think so,” Nilia said. “Are you happy with this impasse, or should we continue negotiations?”

“By all means, let’s keep talking. Who knows, we may be able to achieve a compromise of some sort.”

The sentinel returned and went directly to mother. Amin leaned over.

“The Scuridian Fleet and Vulpus Armada are approaching rapidly. This is an invasion!”

Mother leapt to her scaly feet. She towered over Vangar from the perch of the throne.

“Your ships are encroaching on our territory! What is the meaning of this?”

Vangar smiled, the evil of the Vixen Queen entrenched in his features.

“My dear Nilia, this is your day of reckoning.”

Mother’s face contorted in sheer anger. She snapped at her sentinels, who aimed their weapons—swords and spears—at the foxes. There were eight in total, including Vangar. None of them were armed. Mother stood in front of Amin, a motion of protection. Even if it wasn’t intentional, she meant it. She vowed to never lose her third and final child.

“What have you done?”

Vangar gestured at himself.

“Walked straight into the den of the enemy, and deceived you. This was a pretext to get our ships as close as possible without raising suspicion.”

“Suspicion?!” Nilia bellowed. “We’ve been on high alert since you entered! If you think you will escape here with your life…”

“Of course I won’t,” Vangar laughed.

Amin stood now, shocked.

“We will kill you,” he assured. “If your ships touch our sands…”

“Go on then,” Vangar coaxed, puffing out his chest. “It is an honor to die for my country.”

An alarm sounded across Sobek City. Nilia tightened her hand in a fist and the sentinels killed the foxes. Amin was not likely to forget the look on Vangar’s face—gratification—as he was pierced with Eusuchian steel.

—

Thousands of ships came toward Eusuchia, with flags from Vulpus, Cervidium, and Scuridiae. Sobek City was deemed unsafe as ships entered the rivers, and the Pyramid was evacuated. Or rather, Amin and Mother had to evacuate. There was a contingency plan in place, to escape to Equine Isle via an underwater submarine. There were only three in all of Cartonia, and all were owned by either Equine Isle or Eusuchia. They were relatively unknown by the Summer Sun, which would aid in their escape. The only downside was that they could not be underwater for too long, and the journey to Equine Isle would take at least two hours.

A river boat took Amin and Nilia on the southeastern river, as far as it could go before a Cervidian sail could be spotted on the horizon. Nilia was livid, furious at her failure to detect the veritable threat. It was so obvious that they had discounted it; the Vixen Queen would not send her son in to die…only she had. And he did it willingly.

The foxes were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, even for something as simple as the invasion of Eusuchia.

Equine Isle was next. It must be. The Summer Sun had been trying for sixteen years to take these two islands, which Amin honestly thought would be the last two dominoes to fall.

There was nowhere for Eusuchians to go. The submarines were tiny, and could only take a maximum of a dozen people. There was not enough of them, or enough time, to move everyone to Equine Isle. Even then, Equine Isle was not going to stand for long. They would have to continue to flee to Ursus or Canis.

Canis, probably. It seemed everyone converged on there now. Then again, Simeone was closer and also home to more than its fair share of monarchs-in-exile.

Amin paused to think about that as the sentinels rushed him and his mother into the submarine. He was going into exile. He was leaving Eusuchia, perhaps forever. He turned to get one last look at the gorgeous yellow sands before his head was shoved inside. The submarine pressurized, and then dove.

“God of the Fates,” Mother prayed, “protect us as we are forced from our homeland, as we seek asylum and refuge in this world of misery and strife. Keep my son safe, be it at my own expense or not, and guide us to reclamation, redemption, and everlasting peace at the Arch of Eternity.”

“God of the Sea,” Amin joined in, “be soft and smooth, and may the currents steer us to Equine Isle.”

“By the Gods,” the crew chanted.

“By the Gods!” Mother moaned.

—Races, Equus, Equine Isle—

—Kingdom of the Horses—

-2 Hours Later-

The capital of Equine Isle was in turmoil as word of the invasion of Eusuchia reached them minutes after it began. Reports of widespread and indiscriminate destruction was reported as the Summer Sun made all efforts to weaken and demolish the Eusuchian population to aid in their conquest. Within the hour, forces had reached the beaches. There were heavy losses on the Summer Sun’s side, but the bodies in the sands were eventually stacked as barricades, allowing more forces to partake in the invasion.

The one silver lining was that the Summer Sun had directed so much energy toward the invasion that many of the Granite Bloc trenches were either able to catch a break or make up for lost ground. All except those in the north, as the parrots were apparently uninvolved in the naval battles.

The unfortunate side of the turmoil for Equine Isle was that they were undoubtedly next. Once Eusuchia was taken over, the horses would fall in turn. The crocodiles would defend their island to the best of their ability, until their last breaths, but now that the Summer Sun was there…time was running out.

King Horatio V of Equine Isle was on the last legs of his cognizance. He could sense his mind flaking away, which did not surprise the elderly monarch. He had spent seven entire decades on the throne of Equine Isle. He had vowed to rule until his death, but was increasingly considering the concept of abdication to ease his final years. It was very plausible that he would die before the war ended, and see his country defeated. And if that were the case…he’d rather die before it happened.

“Eusuchia is being ransacked!” Horatio’s daughter, Navarra, shouted from the other side of his bedroom, reading dispatches as they came in. “Uh…four Scuridian ships sunk. Two Vulpine torpedoed. Oh! The Pyramid said that they’ve evacuated Nilia and Amin! They must be coming here!”

The capital of Equus was on the southern tip of their island, the side closest to Eusuchia. From the palace, the smoke on the horizon could be seen. Horatio had the shades drawn to avoid this sight.

“They cannot stay here,” Horatio said in a raspy voice. “They must cross into Ursus before the strait is compromised. You must go too.”

“We *all* must go,” Navarra insisted. “That’s the plan. We cannot be trapped here. You are too important to the people.”

The Equestrian royal family was extensive. Navarra had children. Navarra had grandchildren. Horatio knew Equine Isle’s safety was diminishing, and exile might just be the only way to preserve his family’s lives. He wanted to stay, die with his people, but…he was too old to be left alone without family. And Navarra was right; he represented more to the horses than anybody else.

“They’re here!” Navarra shrieked, reading over the dispatch. “Nilia and Amin! They’ve docked!”

Horatio lifted himself out of bed. A King would meet his equal.

—Ursus—

That evening, it became clear that Eusuchia’s days were numbered. More and more troops arrived from the Summer Sun, rushing ashore and killing anyone in sight. Sobek City would be the final stronghold, the Pyramid the final prize. Nilia tried not to think of her sons, buried in the Valley of the Beloved, left to the mercy of the invaders. She prayed their resting sights were left undisturbed. Hopefully the Vixen Queen had not stooped to grave robbing.

When Nilia and Amin arrived in Equine Isle, it took a good amount of coercing to get King Horatio V to cross the Equine Strait with them into Ursus. The Equestrian King finally acquiesced when his young great-grandchild begged him to come with them.

A small party of Ursine military officials greeted the Eusuchian and Equestrian royals on the banks of the Equine Street from Ursus. The bears were grave, and told the royals that King Archibald was not in the capital, instead heading north on a military campaign. They would all be brought to Tardisham Tower.

“We’re going to Canis,” Nilia announced, thinking of her son. “We’ll be safer there.”

The army bears nodded in understanding.

“We’ll stay in Ursus,” Navarra Caligari said on behalf of her family. “Father cannot travel that far.”

“Can we go to Canis tonight?” Nilia asked the group of bears, unsure who was in charge. One of them shrugged.

“Of course. The trains are still operating. There’s one not far from here. If you’re not going to be seeing King Archibald upon his return, is there any message you’d like me to give him?”

Nilia nodded with conviction.

“Never trust a fox.”

—Sobek City, Eusuchia—

—May 13, 723—

-Two Months Later-

The Vicar of Heaven checked his surroundings before ducking into the secret passage of the late Prince Tut Hotep’s mausoleum. It was a marvelous structure, a three-sided pyramid of polished limestone. It had withstood two bombings so far, and was a makeshift shelter for the impoverished and injured. The Vicar remembered well the burial of Prince Tut and his brother, Prince Seti, after both perished in the War Plague. Farress Nilia was grief-stricken over their deaths. Now she was safely in Canis with her last surviving son, Amin.

The fight was not over for Eusuchia. Though the capital city was surrounded, and the Summer Sun was quickly taking over what remaining pockets of resistance that remained, the city was guarded and prepared to defend. The Pyramid was impregnable. The Vicar of Heaven knew that. Hundreds of loyalists were digging chasms underneath the palace to bury riches and artifacts of Eusuchian culture. The national Museum of Eusuchia was emptied, all its valuables hidden away. The foxes would not be allowed to take them.

“Bless me, Vicar,” a poor beggar rasped, falling at the Vicar’s feet as he passed through the dimly-lit corridors to the main sanctum. He held his torch out in front of him, and made a symbol with the flames for the beggar. She whispered a thank you, and he pressed on.

In the main sanctum, where thousands of frightened Eusuchians were huddled, the Vicar of Heaven located his compatriot, the Vicar of Life. She was the one overseeing the survival of Eusuchia’s culture and their way of life. Both Vicars had heard tales from Mallardia and Willie of the foxes destroying paintings, toppling statues, and burning museums to eradicate the traces of the ducks and mice. The same could not happen to Eusuchia.

“I have heard from the Farress,” the Vicar of Heaven whispered so that the refugees would not overhear. The Vicar of Life leaned closer. “She commands that we burn the bodies.”

The Vicar of Life nodded. A flash of discomfort passed over her face, but she suppressed it.

That night, the Vicar of Heaven broke open the coffins of Prince Tut and Prince Seti. He held a torch to their mummified corpses, and held a cloth stuffed with lavender against his nose as the bodies burned. Volunteers scooped their ashes into urns, and these too were carried to the Pyramid and lowered into the chasms of Eusuchian history.

The next morning, foxes crossed the trenchlines and sieged Sobek City.

—O Camp, Southern Porcinia—

—June 10, 723—

-One Month Later-

Mom came over to Lana and Nicholas’s cabin when word of the new Summer Sun Edict spread. Lana read it aloud from the printed copies distributed at breakfast. It proclaimed Equine Isle as territory of Vulpus, effective immediately. The capital had surrendered after a brief siege, its royal family already fled. Eusuchia had fallen two weeks earlier. The Pyramid was ruthlessly bombed, worse than any other castle so far. Lana had never seen such horrific images of palatial destruction. Beakfield Manor had burned during the fall of Mallardia, but the Pyramid was nearly leveled. The crocodiles had refused to surrender, even with foxes in the castle.

“Nothing on Leprolia?” Nicholas asked, peering over Lana’s shoulder at the new edict.

“Nope. Still undetermined who’s getting that prize.”

Mom shook her head.

“The foxes are taking everything. They now run half the continent! Maybe if Stag Ellis were still alive, there’d be more Cervidian annexations, but I think *she’s* running the show. None of the other Summer Sun allies are getting as much territory as Vulpus.”

“Sucks for them,” Nicholas scoffed. “That’s what they get for getting in bed with the Vixen Queen.”

He blushed. “I mean…uh…aligning with her.”

Lana tried not to laugh at his inadvertent double entendre.

“This is bad,” Mom noted. “Eusuchia and Equine Isle were strongholds. With them down, the Summer Sun can focus on land. We won’t last much longer.”

The room went quiet. Nicholas went over to the morning paper from a few days ago, which included an interview with Farress Nilia and Crown Prince Amin from Canis. The headline spoke volumes, and it resonated with Lana.

“Never Trust A Fox.”

—Northern Ursus—

—June 13, 723—

-Three Days Later-

The Summer Sun was enjoying widespread successes, bolstered by the fall of the two islands of the Granite Bloc. Only six nations remained against the four powerhouses of the Summer Sun: Phantine, Bovo, Simeone, Canis, and the two main focuses of the Macaw of Psittancyna: Porcinia and Ursus. Macaw Arini predicted that within the month, the parrots may even be within grasp of Carnarvon, the capital of Ursus.

The Macaw personally joined the military’s march south, determined to raise morale as much as possible. Many parrots were frustrated that no territorial gains had been made by the nation, while Cervidium and Vulpus enjoyed enormous prizes of fallen nations. Arini was aware of this major discrepancy, and it frustrated him too. The Vixen Queen’s response was always that the foxes had earned the conquest of Mallardia, Willie, Capricon, and so on. Meanwhile, the Psittacorum had not been able to successfully capture a nation. They were making great progress, and the promise was that both Ursus and Porcinia would become Psittancynesian. Locally among parrots, the idea of Ursine conquest was known as the *Ursannexamus*. In Psittanine, it literally translated to “Ursus annexation.”

The march toward Carnarvon was a wonderfully insightful experience. It gave the Macaw a renewed sense of purpose to stand among his soldiers, his brethren, his most ardent supporters. Scouts reported Ursine soldiers marching north to engage them in battle, which the Macaw was most anxious to witness. He would not be involved, of course, but would act as commander.

Sixteen years was a long time to fight a war, and the hope was that it would be over soon. Of course…then began the arduous process of acclimating fourteen fallen Kingdoms to Vulpine, Cervidian, Scuridian, and Psittancynesian ways of life.

Walking with the young soldiers, with their positive outlooks and passionate commitment to the Psittacorum, Macaw Arini was reminded of his son, Croix, who was still living with the monastic Order of Silans with minimal communication with his family. It was unknown if he was maintaining his sinful relationship with the female chicken with whom he fled, but regardless the Order was untouchable. The Macaw would never dream of unseating their tradition, and tried to come to peace with the way his son took flight when his sister, Lucia, blackmailed him to give her the position of Pserex—heir to the throne. He had forgiven Lucia, who had matured greatly since that occurrence, but he still yearned for the return of Croix. It was his only son, after all. They had spoken everyday ever since his birth, and then suddenly, like a light switch, that stopped. Now, he got a Christmas card and a rare letter. The letters were two lines, maximum. They couldn’t telephone, as Croix had taken a vow of silence. Physical relationships were banned in the Order, but if Croix had gone there with the chicken—the manifestation of lustful sin—they must have gone with the intention of secretly copulating. Arini did tip off a few of the ascetic monks to this, but he had not heard anything affirming his belief. There was a long period where Arini wondered if Lucia had made it all up, and Croix had just gone there of his own accord.

The Macaw was still dwelling on his lost son at sunset when one of his commanders entered his tent, carrying a letter from…

“Archibald?!” Arini cried, snatching the parchment. The seal of the Ursine king was unmistakeable. Tearing it open, he read,

*Arini,*

*11pm, Overlook Hill. Single-combat.*

*You may bring one other as witness.*

*For Theodora,*

*Archibald*

Arini’s jaw dropped. He was being challenged to a single-combat duel against the King of Ursus. There were no terms. This was not strategic. This was personal. Archibald was seeking revenge for the accidental killing of the Princess Theodora.

“How far is Overlook Hill from here?” Arini asked the commander quietly.

“An hour.”

“It could be an ambush,” Arini said aloud. “A trap…”

But he knew it wasn’t. Archibald was not the kind of bear to do that. The bears did not have much left. Archibald was more than their King; he was the representative of the war effort. A successor to the throne had been chosen by the Ursine parliament given the lack of a proper heir, but a power struggle was sure to follow. Ursus needed to be weakened to ensure Psittancynesian victory. Arini had the power to do that, and he believed he could easily kill the beleaguered King of Ursus.

Arini was not a coward, nor did he run away from a challenge like this. If the King wanted to meet on the battlefield and fight one on one, then the Macaw was obliged to honor his wish.

—

Overlook Hill was a quiet, out-of-the-way spot between the Psittancynesian and Ursine camps. It was the perfect place for a duel. Further, it was the site of one of Archibald’s happiest memories with his wife and daughter before their deaths. They had picnicked here, even as the war raged, to find a moment of peace. If he died here, his witness would bury him here, and he would find eternal rest.

*Requiem Aeternum*, as they said in Psittancyna.

There was no guarantee that the Macaw would answer the call, but Archibald was pleased to see him approaching at the designated time. He brought with him one of his commanders, and a sword.

Archibald was holding his own sword. He thought constantly of Theodora, whom he wished sincerely to avenge. Eight years had passed since she died on Sitka Beach, killed by the parrots, without remorse. Her body dumped on the sands for Archibald to find.

She was still in her crypt, buried in satin, gone forever. But her memory continued to be Archibald’s purpose in fighting this war. Every night, he envisioned the collapse of the Summer Sun and restoration of peace on the planet. He fantasized of war trials against the Vixen Queen, the Stag of Cervidium, the Chequer of Scuridiae, and the Macaw of Psittancyna. Only now…he had the opportunity to kill the Macaw and ensure justice.

“You came,” Archibald said in greeting to the Macaw. The parrot was vibrantly colored in the moonlight and the lantern he carried. He wore armor, as did Archibald.

“You asked.”

“You killed my daughter,” Archibald said cleanly, without a voice crack or change in tone. Arini raised an eyebrow.

“I recall it being a soldier, but if this is how you’d prefer to settle our dispute, then so be it.”

Archibald reached for his sword, and the two witnesses backed away.

“Terms?” Arini asked, as if bored.

“None.”

“Not even the concept of retreat? Whoever wins gets the military edge?”

“No.”

“So this is personal?”

“Extremely.”

Arini gripped his sword and paced around Archibald, who eyed him. The Macaw would have no way of knowing that Archibald had been practicing single combat for years, dreaming of a moment like this.

Arini charged and swung at Archibald, who blocked the blow. He pushed the king of the parrots back, causing him to stumble. Archibald seized the moment, and struck the Macaw on the shoulder. The sword bounced off the armor, but the Macaw had lost his balance. The parrot toppled onto his back.

“You are guilty of war crimes against Cartonia,” Archibald announced, kicking the sword out of the Macaw’s grasp. He stomped on his chest, pinning the king to the ground. “You are guilty of sanctioning the murder of Theodora Rose, Princess of Ursus. I carry your sentence, which is death.”

Archibald swung, and decapitated the Macaw of Psittancyna. The parrot witness cried out, then ran back toward the camp. Archibald sliced the remaining sinews to sever the Macaw’s head, and gripped it by the upper feathers.

“Come,” Archibald said calmly to his witness, “let’s go show our troops the Macaw is dead.”

*I’m sorry, Theodora*, Archibald said quietly through the ether. *Forgive me this evil*.

—The Canopy, Mount Altum, Psittancyna—

—Macawdom of the Parrots—

Lucia Psint-Annenburg-Volta, the Pserex and heir to the Psittacorum, was confused. The army was apparently *retreating* in Ursus? Several scouts had managed to get messages back to central command, but it made no sense to Lucia. None of the dispatches she was receiving were coming from the usual source, her father.

The retreat did not sound too major, just a few phalanxes falling back. Maybe they had encountered Ursine resistance, a few bombs or land mines, or terrain that was impassable. So nothing alarming, just befuddling.

But it was late, and Lucia wanted to go to bed. She could figure out what was happening tomorrow. Maybe the Macaw would finally call her back.

There were two parrots blocking the path to her chambers: the treasurer and the security advisor of the Psittacorum. They wore black ribbons, hastily tacked to their clothing. A single scenario ran through Lucia’s head, but she waited for them to speak.

“*Psou Pserex*,” the security advisor muttered in Psittanine, “the Macaw was challenged to a duel of single combat with the King of Ursus, and lost. He has ascended to the highest canopy, and you are now Macaw.”

Lucia bit her tongue. She could almost smile. Her moment had come at last! Sad about the Macaw…but if he lost in single combat to a beleaguered and elderly bear King…

“I see,” she said in reply. “Enact the funeral and mourning procedures. We’ll bury…”

“His body was taken by the bears.”

“Ah. Well…then use an empty casket. No one needs to know it is unoccupied. And I won’t hear of any further retreats. Continue into Ursus with all our might.”

The security advisor bowed and scurried off. Lucia turned to the treasurer.

“Pecunia?” Lucia addressed. “Why are you here?”

The treasurer shifted her footing. She was a vibrant yellow parrot with turquoise stripes.

“I know it is late, *psou Magnivicanzso*…”

Lucia’s heart soared to hear that title directed toward her for the first time. “…but I must update you on the dire status of our treasury. The late Macaw was adamant that only he know of the nation’s bankruptcy, but that I should inform you immediately upon his eventual passing.”

Lucia stared. Bankruptcy?

“I think you must be mistaken, Pecunia. The Psittacorum is a prosperous Macawdom. We have no debts, no…”

“I’m sorry,” Pecunia shamelessly interrupted, “but you are the one mistaken. This war has depleted all of our accounts. We have been borrowing heavily from Vulpus and Cervidium. The sheer size of our debt is probably unparalleled in Cartonian history. We are not alone in bankruptcy, as Scuridiae has also required extensive financial support. The late Macaw was not keen on my advice, but I must impart it to you now.”

“And that is?” Lucia asked, dreading the answer.

“Stop the war efforts. If we defend our borders, we can sever the Vulpine aid and begin a repayment plan that will not be a future detriment to our country. We have no need for Ursus or Porcinia, or any other territory. Even if we manage to conquer them, we’ll be completely destitute and have to sell of territory to survive. Vulpus will convert us into a principality as they did Capricon, or worse. We won’t stand forever.”

Lucia was aghast. What did this idiotic bureaucrat know about war? About Vulpus? About the special relationship of the Psittacorum within the Summer Sun?

“Nonsense,” Lucia spat. “We will do no such thing. My father was ambitious in his quest for territorial acquisitions…”

“Arini knew that the Psittacorum would never acquire as much as Vulpus or Cervidium. We are too poor for it!”

“Pecunia!” Lucia scolded. “Stop interrupting me! How the hell could he have been so reckless with money?”

Pecunia’s face was openly confused.

“*Psou Magnivicanzso*…this war is more expensive than anything the Psittacorum has funded before. And the aggressive strategy of pressing into unknown territory means that we have to build and maintain supply chains that drain gas and transportation budgets…meanwhile the interior of the country is collapsing as the late Macaw favored military expenditures over infrastructure repairs. You have the opportunity to steer us in a better direction, before it’s too late.”

Lucia had heard enough. Victory was months away. She would not yield now.

“Thank you for your insight, Pecunia. But if you wouldn’t mind, my father has just died and I’d like to mourn him. We can discuss this later.”

Pecunia bowed and backed away, but Lucia stopped her. “Actually, Pecunia, maybe the stress of this job has become too much for you. Respectfully, you are dismissed effective tomorrow.”

—Bucktooth Castle, Port Tamias, Scuridiae—

—Kingdom of the Chipmunks—

-One Night Later-

Scuridiae was penniless. For the last two years, Chequer Vincent and his family had been living abstemiously, going as far as to secretly sell castle furniture to rich chipmunks across the country. Half the castle now lay empty, but the rooms were cordoned off so that no one would see their bare interiors and launch a succession challenge to the poor Elief royal family.

The main reason for Scuridiae’s bankruptcy was the continuous, almost nonstop construction of ships for the Scuridian Fleet, the greatest seafaring armada on the continent. Naval prowess was their strong suit, and they were integral in the fall of Eusuchia and Equine Isle. One of the territories was subtly promised to Scuridiae—in a reversal from the original division plan drawn up at the 719 Summer Sun Summit three years ago—but only if they could pay off their debts to Vulpus and Cervidium. Despite the looted treasure from Eusuchia and Equine Isle, only a portion was paid off. The Chequer still owed millions of marks!

There were very few cuts left to make, and it may finally be time to end ship construction. But without naval power, Scuridiae would be defenseless. And they had lost quite a few ships in their invasion of the islands.

But cuts had to be made, whether the Chequer liked them or not. Extreme cuts, probably to necessities such as schooling and medicine. Without victory in this war, and a clean balance sheet to Vulpus, Scuridiae would never achieve anything more than what they had before the war. The thought of nearly two decades of war for nothing was a horrifying thought.

Vincent knew Psittancyna was in a similar situation, owing millions to the Vulpine crown, though they had also borrowed extensively from Cervidium. The new Macaw Lucia was sure to be struggling with her own checkbooks.

The Chequer slashed a line through the annual merit increases for all legal and medicinal professionals throughout the country. They’d have to forgo individual salary increases—despite being well-deserved—to preserve Scuridian sovereignty.

“My Chequer,” the Scuridian Exchequer of Bank muttered in his unusually soft, calming voice. “Perhaps this is a good time to consider the termination of the Scuridian Savings Vault.”

He looked away sheepishly and slid across the Chequer’s desk a black folder sealed with wax. The Chequer regarded it with confusion.

“The what?”

The Exchequer frowned. He tapped the folder.

“The Scuridian Savings Vault, set up about seven years back. It diverts a monthly sum from the treasury into a perpetual trust, to…um…let me see…ensure the prevention of bankruptcy. The instructions I received on the establishment memo was to pretend as if it did not exist, so that the money may grow unencumbered.”

The Chequer’s mustache twitched.

“I do not know what you mean. I never sanctioned anything like this.”

As the Chequer and the Exchequer of Bank spent the rest of the evening investigating the oddity, it became apparent to the Chequer that someone had been embezzling money from the government for seven years. The trust had a backdoor that allowed money to be withdrawn, and most of what had been put in was already taken out. What could have been a saving grace—there had been enough money in the trust to pay off the remainder of Scuridian debt—instead turned into a harrowing quest to find the perpetrator. The Exchequer of the Bank found the original memo, typed on the Chequer’s official stationery and stamped with his own seal.

As the night wore on, and more of the situation came to light, the Chequer knew the country was screwed. Someone had singlehandedly seen to it. Scuridiae would be lucky to take Simeone into their own territory. Vulpus and Cervidium were adamant that all nations had to be equal, and that it was unfair for Psittancyna or Scuridiae to take territory if they owed money to other Kingdoms. He understood the reasoning, but wished it wasn’t so.

The Exchequer of the Bank, ever so competent, managed to secure the date of the last withdrawal from the trust—only three days prior. It was partially in cash, taken directly from the treasury within Bucktooth Castle. One of the bills was reportedly used at a coffee shop in Port Tamias—a coffee shop!

The Chequer made the phone call himself to the coffee shop owner, and asked if anyone from the castle had been in there three days ago. The owner answered immediately.

“Of course. It was his Highness, Prince Chip. We have been so grateful to have his patronage…”

—

It was minutes before midnight when Chequer Vincent knocked on Chip’s door. His eldest son, and heir to the throne. Though his deception had been clever at first, it took only a matter of hours to fully uncover the embezzlement. Vincent did not care why, only that there were consequences.

*Chip had bankrupted the nation*. Because of Chip, Scuridiae could very well fall to the foxes.

The Chequer had three children—Chip, Caris, and Scamper. They all detested each other, and the Chequer was sick of trying to figure out why. Chip was the only one that Vincent interacted with on a regular basis, since he was heir. Chip was a fully grown chipmunk, though still a bachelor. He publicly told his father he didn’t want to marry, as that would hamper his “drive.”

Chip opened the door after a few minutes. He was in his pajamas.

“What?” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

“The Scuridian Savings Vault,” Vincent seethed. The fury must have been plain on his face. A moment of surprise flashed across Chip’s eyes, but he cocked his head.

“The what?”

“400 *million* marks! What did you do with 400 *million* marks?”

Vincent pushed himself into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Chip was taller than him, with a bushier tail. No doubt he thought he was superior to the Chequer.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Vincent tossed open the prince’s closet, which was fully stocked with luxury brand clothing. Ridiculously expensive knickknacks lined the top shelf.

“Is that a fucking golden egg?”

Chip shrugged.

“A gift.”

“From whom?” Vincent retorted. “The Scuridian government? Our treasury? Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know what hell you’ve wrought? This nation is destitute! We will never be able to repay our debts!”

Chip’s eyebrows went up.

“Maybe someone is bad at managing money.”

Blind rage seized the Chequer and he lunged at his son, wrestling him to the ground. Chip fought back, hitting the Chequer over the head with something. Though his vision was blurred, Vincent retaliated with more force. Chip managed to get onto his feet, but the Chequer was not far behind. He shoved him out onto the balcony. Chip grabbed onto the railing for support and kicked Vincent across the face, sending the Chequer flying backward. But he rebounded off the wall and flew back toward his son. This time, with a purpose.

Vincent ducked and grabbed ahold of Chip’s feet. Then he stood, lifting Chip over the balcony’s edge. He turned and shut the balcony door behind him as Chip’s cries died out as he hit the rocks below.

—

Caris Elief was sleeping. Vincent awoke her, and she gasped at his bloodied face and scratched arms.

“Your brother has taken a fatal fall from the balcony of his bedroom. As of now, you are the heir to Scuridiae.”

Caris stared as her father exited the bedroom as casually as he came.

## Production

### Continuity and Story Arcs

Amin Hotep, last seen at the pandemic-era funeral of his siblings in “Remnants of the People,” returned alongside his mother during the Battle of Eusuchia.

King Archibald of Ursus achieved revenge for the murder of his daughter, Theodora Rose, by killing Macaw Arini in single combat. The Macaw was succeeded by his daughter, Lucia, as Macaw.

Chequer Vincent learned that his son, Chip Elief, was embezzling millions of marks from Scuridiae. He murdered his son by throwing him off the balcony of Bucktooth Castle. Caris Elief subsequently became heir to Scuridiae.

### References

The concept of *Ursannexamus* is inspired by the German Anschluss, the annexation of Austria in 1938.

## Trivia

* The title of this episode references a popular mantra in Toontown, used especially during the third season when Blair Fawkes came to town. "Never trust a fox" was said in "They Came From the North" to be a quote from the Diary of War.
	+ The line was quoted by Farress Nilia upon her flight from Eusuchia. The quote later made headlines, and was transcribed by Lana Loudoun into her diary.
	+ This episode was originally titled “Never Surrender,” after the famous Winston Churchill speech, but was changed.
* The seaborne invasion of Eusuchia is based on the 1944 Normandy Landings during World War II (D-Day).
* The scene with the Vicar of Heaven was added at the last minute, bumping the character from guest to supporting status.