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Justice

We had received the welcome that all heroics were due when we arrived at Fort Velika: confusion and slack-jawed stares from the guards manning the ramparts of the wooden walls. Indeed, had it not been for Vito and his exceptionally flashy armor, I doubt they would have recognized us as fellow comrades-in-arms.

"OPEN THE GATES!" Vito boomed. "IN THE NAME OF GENERAL VITO!"

Without so much as a questioning glance, the foxes sprang to action as fast as they could, which could be charitably described as leisurely, and began struggling to open the gates. Desperate, apologetic yaps rang out from the other side of the gates as they shook.

"Your friend seems to be running a very tight operation here," I uttered sardonically as I leaned over to Vito, "what's he trying to pull here?"

"I said he was a friend, Marshal, and I meant that," Vito cleared his throat, "at no point did I ever said he was competent."

The screeching from the other side of the gates had turned into desperate pleading and prayers that General Vito wouldn't skin their hides. This was getting exceptionally pathetic and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor foxes stationed here.

"Have they even lifted the bar!?" I said, loud enough to carry my voice over the walls.

There was silence, followed by a quiet thunk and the gates slowly creaking open.

"My apologies, General!" a scrawny fox in a tattered leather cuirass came stumbling out, bowing his head before the General and me atop our horses. His feet were bare, the fur covered in old mud. "The door...I think the hinges need some greasing!"

The soldier laughed, which proved to be a bit too much for him and he stumbled, almost fainting before catching himself against the walls.

"Commander Petrus awaits," he waved towards the entrance of the fortress.

We spurred our horses on and entered the tiny courtyard. There was no soldier to greet us and take our horses to the stables, so we had to make the short journey there ourselves, giving us a good opportunity to inspect the fortress.

The walls and the buildings were in poor shape. Maintenance had clearly only been done enough to make sure things stayed upright but had neglected almost everything beyond that. Roofs were missing shingles, window shutters were unhinged, and metal tools were left exposed to the elements.

Most distressing of all was the condition of the foxes within. All of the soldiers were scrawny, even by vulpine standards, and all of them had no boots. Many of their cuirasses were missing chunks of leather and if that wasn't enough to make things clear as to what was going on here to me, the foxes staring hungrily at our horses certainly did.

"Vito," I whispered as we dismounted from our horses and led them by the reins into the stables, "these soldiers are starving. What's going on here?"

"Philippe's mishandling of the army has forced commanders to adapt to the new situation," Vito whispered back. The stables had an abundance of free stalls and we quickly were able to find two for our horses. "Some have not thrived under these circumstances."

"For the love of Canis, Vito, how can it get this bad?" I snarled for a second before catching wind of my horse's anxiety and began cooing at it to calm it down. "Why haven't they deserted yet?"

There was a loud thump in the other stall as Vito placed his horse's saddle on the ground. The brown fox slipped over to my stall and leaned up against the walls.

"They were all awaiting your return, Marshal," Vito sighed, "someone let slip rumors that you were going to return and give the military what it was owed. We've had deserters here and there, can't really blame them, but most of the soldiers have stayed on, waiting for that promised day to come."

"And who might have let that slip?"

Vito smiled slightly, "I couldn't fathom."

Smiling, I shut the stall gate behind us as we exited the stables, "Still, even with that in mind, the conditions here are unacceptable! Your army didn't seem to be so emaciated, what's the deal?"

"As I mentioned, a good commander can thrive under adverse conditions while a bad commander flounders," Vito saluted a fox that was chewing on a piece of boiled leather. Lowering his voice to a whisper as we approached a staircase leading up to the stronghold's entrance, he continued, "Petrus is a very bad commander but he is loyal to what we're fighting for, if only because he can use Philippe as an excuse for his own shortcomings."

"Why are you friends with such a cr-" my leg fell through a wooden step that shattered upon landing on it.

Without showing a moment's pause, Vito helped me back onto my feet and continued, "Because we don't get to pick our friends during these times. We don't have that kind of luxury."

"True," I nodded as the lone sentry by the door at the top of the staircase. He was sitting on the ground with his spear resting atop his shoulder, paying us no heed as we were about to breach the threshold of the stronghold.

"But still, Petrus had informed me that he had acquired a new source of food and supplies. Clearly he has been quite flexible with the truth."

We stared at the guard for a few seconds before deciding he really didn't care whether we entered unannounced or not and flung the open open, stepping inside.

What had once been a mustering hall for soldiers had been turned into what could only be described as the most depressing feast-hall in all of Eurasia. Tables were set up with numerous splintered seats, but only two held anything atop them: one with a horse skull atop a wood platter, covered in teeth marks as if it had been picked clean; and the other had the commander himself, as naked as the day he was born, and knot-deep inside a vixen's slit.

To the commander's credit, he looked as scrawny as his soldiers and he looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion before he peered up at us, his teeth still sinking into the vixen's scruff, and panicked.

"Fuck!" he shouted and his vixen shrieked as he forced his knot out, spilling wet seed all over the table. Petrus wiped the tip of his cock off on the side of the table before grabbing his trousers and tunic, wrapping them around his naked form.

"G-G-General Vito! It's a pleasure!" he saluted as he rushed towards us, stumbling over a broken chair. "And General-"

"Marshal," I corrected him.

"Marshal Marco, I presume? Honor, what a true honor this is! An honor!"

"That hurt!" the vixen whined.

Petrus turned around and hissed, "Go! Get! Begone! I'll pay you later!"

"What are you talking about? I'm not a-"

"I SAID BEGONE!"

The vixen tucked her tail between her legs, grabbed a bundle of clothes and wrapped them around her body as she stormed out of the room. Petrus was not making a very good first impression, though I pretended not to have noticed the implication in the vixen's question, waiting to see if Petrus would own up to his mistake or try to dodge responsibility.

"How have things been going, Petrus?" Vito unflappably bowed towards the commander.

"Very good, very good! I got your letter and was expecting you, things have been very, very busy here! We captured a spy just yesterday, you know? Spies...spies are all over the place! Philippe has hundreds of them and they're all over the place, the Alphate even more!"

Dodging it was then. I had dealt with my fair share of bullshitters and was feeling exceptionally patient that day, so I waited for him to slip-up.

"A spy, hm?" I muttered, rubbing my chin. "Describe him."

"A young tod, quite handsome with bright-red fur! We gagged him, clapped him in irons, and threw him in the dungeon before he could spread any vile lies! He reeked of wolf, an Alphate spy, no doubt!"

"Handsome, you say?" I smirked at Vito. "I don't suppose it would be possible for me to have a taste of him, hm? It has been a long journey and like any healthy fox, I have certain desires."

Petrus brayed like a donkey and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me towards a doorway leading to a staircase leading downward. His paws were wet and sticky, and I tried not to focus on that.

"This, uh, this is why the soldiers like you so much Marco! You've got a healthy appetite, just like me! That's what they look for in a leader, someone to inspire vigor!"

Although I could not disagree with that part about a healthy appetite, I truly was not in the mood to molest this spy, rather wishing to question him. Still, if he had turned out to be a real spy and he needed some motivating to talk...

Wincing as I felt the commander's wet, clammy pad-paws chafe against my fur, I asked, "You haven't already had a taste of him, have you?"

"No! No, not in the slightest!" Petrus laughed and for the first time that day, he didn't sound nervous. It sounded like he was telling the truth.

A loud moaning sound came from below and as we passed a wall, the staircase stopped at a cold, stone floor in a room illuminated by torches. Lying on a table with ropes lashed to each of his legs, was Laurent, struggling to cry out for help as he was gagged with a leather strap around his muzzle. His tail was covering up his anus and his sheathe.

"You see?" Petrus laughed as he grabbed Laurent by the tail and exposed his shame. "A seducer if I ever seen one before!"

I patted Laurent on the head gently, which did nothing to calm the fox down and he continued to struggle in vain, "What exactly did he say that led you to believe he was a spy?"

"Kept rambling about how 'General Marco was caught up in a storm and presumed dead,' made a lot of folks out here upset! Marco returning was the only thing keeping us going, you see! So, uh, we didn't like that!"

Petrus poked Laurent in the anus, which made the fox freeze up and go limp.

"Maybe having the soldiers take turns with him would help improve morale a bit?"

I reached towards the straps around Laurent's snout but Petrus grabbed me by the paw, using the same hand he used to stick his finger inside Laurent's rear.

"Whoa now, uh, his words are poison, you see? N-not such a good idea, G-g-"

"Marshal," I corrected again, "and I do not fear poisonous words."

Shoving Petrus' paw aside, I tore away the straps and without missing a beat, Laurent cried out.

"This monster ignored the raid in the village nearby and fucked the vixen who came to warn him!"

"Lies! All lies!" Petrus exclaimed, waving his paws nervously. "This little worm has been locked up in the dungeon for a whole day! How would he even know about any of this and, more importantly, what raid? I don't see any wolves outside the fortress!"

I looked upward, light from the main hall was seeping in from the floorboards. Laurent's sharp ears would have picked up on any gossip told there. The dungeons were a wonderful place for a spy to be placed here.

"Commander, I didn't mention it because I felt it went without saying," I explained, "but we routed a pack of wolven nomads in the village nearby before coming here."

"First I've ever heard of it! Rest assured, we knew nothing of that! Nothing at all! The spy made a lucky guess!"

Petrus swung his fist towards Laurent's snout but Vito caught him by the wrist before it could connect.

"You're about to hit one of my most trusted agents and the fox who rescued Marco from prison," Vito quietly said and Petrus' eyes went wide, "do not make this worse for yourself."

"Your spy happens to be in bed with the wolves! Can't you smell it!?" Petrus sniffed deeply over Laurent's body. "Smell him! He probably kneels and lifts his tail the moment a wolf comes into view! A disgrace!"

Petrus was correct in that he carried a lingering trace of wolf musk on him but I was well aware that there could have been any number of reasons he picked up something like that. Laurent was trying to speak but Petrus insisted on continuing his unhinged rambling.

"Shut up!" I snarled, snapping my paw around Petrus' muzzle to shut him up. "Let him speak!"

When the dungeon went silent, Laurent finally was able to speak.

"I have suffered disgraces under your command at the hands of wolves, General," Laurent passively looked over to the side, "and I have continued to suffer more since the shipwreck."

That was all I needed to hear to be convinced of Laurent's innocence. I squeezed Petrus's muzzle, squishing his jowls comically, "I, myself, was seconds away from being captured and disgraced after the shipwreck. I will not allow any of my trusted foxes to be disgraced by slander!"

I released my grip but before Petrus could utter another venomous word, I clapped him across the face with the back of my paw and he fell to the floor.

"No more distractions! Why did you ignore the raid in the village?" Petrus struggled to right himself up and I made it considerably more difficult by planting my boot on his back. "Your duty is to protect all foxes, why did you throw them to the wolves?"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Petrus shrieked with a barely decipherable voice littered with pained gekkers. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAN-!"

Kicking Petrus in the ribs, he rolled onto his back clutching at his sides in pain.

"Try me!"

"We've had no food, no supplies! How do you expect us to fight the wolves!? We had to save ourselves!" Petrus sobbed, pounding on the floor like a petulant kit, rather than a remorseful commander. "We had no choice! NO CHOICE!"

Disgusted at this pitiful display, I turned to Vito, who was untying Laurent.

"Vito, give me your opinion," I sighed, feeling rage bubble up in my brain, "you've been dealing with Philippe's mismanagement of the army, do you think Petrus' circumstances justify what we've seen?"

"My army was able to rely on fishing villages and sea exports to feed it, something that Petrus did not have as an option," Vito bit his lip as he undid the last ropes around Laurent's limbs. The young fox immediately sprang up and began kicking at Petrus, we did nothing to stop him. Vito continued over Petrus' yelps. "But he lied in his communications to me, saying everything was fine. I do not think it's corruption, as he is certainly not well-fed, but pride or sheer incompetence. The latter of which fits Petrus' profile."

"He is your friend, is he not?"

"I am rethinking our friendship."

"What do you think should be done with him, Vito?"

Vito's brown tail swished like a pendulum to the beat of Laurent's kicks, "I must confess, I find it a bit difficult to judge. Ideally, I would demote him and make him redeem himself in battle but I think Petrus lacks such ideal character traits such as courage, honor, and loyalty."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Vito," I looked over, Laurent had taken a break from his beatings and was leaning against the wall, tongue hanging out as he panted, "but the soldiers view me as some kind of populist who will purge the Republic of figures who willingly disgrace the army and those who serve in it, yes?"

Vito pause before replying, "It's the one thing unifying us, yes."

"Would you describe Petrus as having disgraced the army?"

Once again, Vito delayed, thinking deeply, "Not to the same degree as Philippe, but yes."

"Do you think his soldiers are loyal to him?

"No," Vito needed no pause this time.

"I think..." I smiled, staring down at the pitiful fox, "I know how to make use of our commander."

Petrus's eyes went wide and he crawled backwards slowly as my shadow cast over him.

"Corruption is a disease! It festers all that it touches and spreads if not purged! Much like rot in food, if it is not thrown out it will infect and destroy all of your food!"

The mustering hall was a decent place for a speech once the tables were cleared out. The soldiers were all here, some were standing and others were sitting, they were hungry so I did not admonish them. None of them were in formation.

"Philippe is the rot and we need to purge him from the Republic, but until we get to him, we need to clean up the land without fear or remorse!

Everyone here is a victim of corruption! Incompetence has left your bowls empty and this cannot be blamed on Vulpezzia! True foxes make due with what they are given and thrive in the worst circumstances! We are not wolves, begging and whining for help from some distant, limp-knotted bureaucrat for scraps! We forged civilization out of the shattered remains of the ruins of humanity and we can do it no matter where we are!

I am offering everyone here a chance for glory! To purge yourselves of the corruption and incompetence inflicted upon you! I promise you food, gold, and victory! All of which are abundant in fair Carpathia!"

Cheers rang out, though the crowd looked only moderately enthused. It was to be expected, half of these foxes probably expected to just be a garrison and not dragged into an offensive war, plus hunger has a way of sapping out your energy. They would learn how to be soldiers or die with glory, simple as that.

"Pack up your things and meet at the gates at daybreak! The war to save the Republic begins now! We will fight for a future for your kits, one where they are free from wolven oppression and from corrupt officials!"

Once again, their cheers were only slightly enthusiastic but when the doors opened and my own soldiers marched in with platters of freshly cooked meat, they finally tapped into their internal reserves of energy and scrambled for food.

A few exceptionally polite ones saluted me and asked to shake my paw as I stepped towards the exit, which I obliged. I still did not think these foxes would be of much use on the battlefield but they were still due all the proper respect they deserved. Many would be dead before the end of the month.

Still, it was better than leaving them here. The foxes would not protect Velika, that much was sure. If we left them, they would turn to banditry within the hour and Velika would suffer more, while if we took them away, the village might be unprotected but we would, in time, rid them of the wolven threat. The few soldiers that survive would return to their homes across the Republic and spread the word of my righteous actions.

Burnt fur and flesh perfumed the fortress courtyard when I escaped outside into it. Petrus' charred corpse was still wrapped around the stake we tied him to. We had given him the mercy of chopping off his head before purging him with flames. It was far better to rid yourself of corruption quickly rather than painfully slow and if we had not, perhaps some of his soldiers might begin to feel sorry for their commander.

As it stood though, not a single one so much as frowned when I severed his head from his shoulders. In fact, they had all cheered even more than upon seeing the food in the hall.

Justice was something to be savored even more than sustenance.