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It had been an absolutely terrible week.
The Chief of Staff had been on track to charm the rest of the Weasel Unit into following him, instead of the decrepit Commander Huinjogjebi. Sure, the white weasel was crafty, and good with creating useful inventions, but that was all. His reluctance to actually use the Iron Crow weapons on Flower Hill was proof of his weakness. Worse still was his insistence in joining with the hated Wolf Unit, lead by Commander Seungnyangi.It was easy to see that the wolves would take over the whole operation to occupy Flower Hill, and use it for their own ends, leaving the weasels with nothing if they were not forced into servitude like the lesser species.
Junim knew that it was best to sabotage the meetings that were to lead to the union, just as the Chief of Staff had planned. But the plot had been foiled by the late Commander Jogjebi’s Special Aide, now working for Commander Huinjogjebi. Plots against the leaders of the Weasel Unit had actually been foiled multiple times by the same mouse, now that he thought of it. No wonder the late commander kept him around.
It had been begrudging respect at first, on how the mouse had clocked on to their treachery at the café, and immediately set Commander Huinjogjebi onto the group. The weasel fired upon them without question, only the bullet proof vests saving their lives. The other residents of the café were unsure of who deserved to have the power to run the Unit, and had thus allowed them to slip away.
But the escaping mice and weasels had accidentally split in two near the border, due to an avalanche caused by weasels still loyal to the white weasel hunting down traitors. The Chief of Staff and his group fled towards his secret fortress in one direction, while the left behind group of soldiers were forced to hide in one of the lookout towers further into Chaand Hadia, a few miles over the boundary line. Stumbling in the dark of night and the shade of clouds, it had taken them days to reach safety, only by the will of the god of mountains Sanshin helping them find the tower, just before the snowstorm hit.
Well, at least they had a competent group. There was himself, the leader, Junim the son of a lord of a relatively successful fishery empire, the sergeant Jungsa, and several good soldiers who could follow orders, including one who acted as his close friend, Jang-Gyo. Junim knew his destiny was to lead the armies to victor as his forefathers had. He just needed to find the right way to do it, the right person to find to help him.
It was an ugly building, rectangular and made with wood and stone. Clearly meant to watch for enemies, and perhaps forest fires if it was warm and the snow had melted. Despite all appearances, the inside was comfortable given the snow around it, and there was plenty of canned meat that had been stored there on the off chance that the Chief of Staff did need to retreat. There had been talk of holding hostages in the area, but it was decided that keeping hostages someplace warmer and closer to a regular village was more practical, in case emergency medical supplies were needed.
None of the soldiers expected to see the Hog Deer already in the tower, having arrived ahead of them, surrounded by bags and trunks placed in a circle. The head weasel mistook the figure for an elder at first, squinting with some strange glasses, until he moved closer to determine if the interloper would be of use for them.
Average size for a hog deer. Loose trousers and shirt, embroidered with many patterns, matching the hijab covering their head are those antlers poking the top? No, it can’t be… The patterns appeared to swirl around each other, often in the shape of an ocean wave or crescent moon. Was it meant to be mystical, perhaps? It was nothing like they had ever seen, outside of storybooks. Looking closer, the clothes were made with pure silk, a luxury in the weasel villages.
Next to them outside of the circle lay a large open trunk, meant to be carried on the back, filled with powders and herbs the weasel could not recognize. He glanced at the deer, who fingered an ornate compass as they switched out their strange glasses to some with dull red frames.
A younger weasel soldier pushed forward, nudging another away with the butt of his gun. “I know what this must be! This must be a soothsayer’s tower!”
Junim snarled a sarcastic yet hopeful laugh. “Yes of course! Such a weak nation would have magic fortune tellers living alone and waiting for visitors to deposit their money, unprotected. They let mice and sheep with overgrown horns into their government, after all.” The other weasels laughed as the hog deer smiled, tilting their head. Junim figured that at least the stranger would be able to do some work for them. After all, the mice they had brought along as servants had not survived the cold and snow, pathetic as they were, and they certainly did not want to cook and clean for themselves.
As the weasels unpacked their own suitcases, Junim surveyed the room. Mostly empty except for the fireplace, but there were some stairs that led to an upper landing that surveyed the entirely of the room, and was also where one could grab a ladder to ascend to the higher floors. It was likely to be colder as one went up, so there was no point in bothering to do so. Moving to one side, he could see the entrance to a storage area.
He glanced over at the hog deer, who was calmly grinding some of the leaves with a mortar and pestle. “You! What is your name?”
“Soor-Hiran.” Hog Deer. Of course they were named after their species. Most individuals without anything distinctive about them were.
“What do you do for a living? Where were you going?” Best to make sure they were not someone suspicious, or someone who might have someone looking for them. The weasels were absolutely NOT supposed to be in the country of Chaand Hadia. Their presence could cause an international incident.
“I have the ability to tell people what they need to hear, deliver what they need to have, all for the right exchanges. I am also an herbalist who provides medicinal care to the sick and injured. I was traveling to meet a merchant who will assist in providing me with polyol for my medicines.” The hog deer explained, once again opening the compass and seemingly admiring the figure of a deer inside.
So, at the very least, this deer will be able to tell me my future! Physiognomy and Saju fortune telling had always been a part of the beliefs and culture of the Weasel Kingdoms, although the privilege to be assessed had always cost quite a bit of money. Whatever went on behind those doors were closed to the public, and the few that were able to afford to enter to get their readings often became victorious generals and leaders that went on to rule over their own small kingdoms.
“This must be divine providence! From the way you are dressed, anyone would be able to tell you are a true soothsayer or fortune teller! You must have been sent to me so that I may complete my destiny! You will stand by me forevermore.” He approached the hog deer, who cocked their head again, smile frozen as if preventing it from dropping. “I will not let you get away; you will stay by my right side and guide me.”
The Hog Deer finally spoke, tone calm but clearly warning of something. “You have an interesting train of thought for one visiting from a foreign country. Fortune telling is not permissible in my culture or religion, so how could you think I could be a soothsayer? Did you not take the time to learn the culture before you visited?”
The weasel laughed. “You need not worry, Soor-Hiran, we will have you tell the future, and in return we will take down your government and install a more permissible one.”
Bowing their head slightly, the hog deer laughed quietly, glancing upwards towards the ceiling. “There is a sense that is common that is not so common for some, especially you.”
The young weasel lord liked the sound of that.
The snowstorm continued outside, trapping the weasels and hog deer inside the tower for as long as it lasted, spirits boosted as their leader marveled over what he could do with the supposed powers of the mystic they had found. With their abilities, the occupation and wars should turn in their favor.
"Kind sirs. I am not a soothsayer," The hog deer was ignored. Why else would they be there alone in the tower?
“…and then we will have to publicly execute the leaders of each village to instill fear into the populace. Maybe a few others if that doesn’t do it, but everyone in Flower Hill should fall in line, quickly enough. Chaand Hadia should be next. The villages are further apart, so they should be easier to take over given how far away the army and central government apparently is. Or we could start like we did with Chambelli Koh, and take over the coastlines, and then move inward once we have the food supply set up good and proper. The populace should fall in line fast enough once we install the new village heads, since they seem to follow that kind of system. Of course, that all depends on if the old cripple can make the right decision regarding the future of the unit.”
Junim turned. “Tell me, Soor-Hiran, can you see if white weasel be able to throw off the idea of the wolves, or will the Weasel Unit be destroyed?”
Humming, the Hog Deer fingered the hem of their shirt, and then gently traced a finger around the compass. Finally, they looked up, starting with somewhat widened eyes; “In the coming days, there will be an eclipse that will be seen across the continent. I do pray that you may not be around to see it.”
It was clear to the weasels what the hog deer meant. Dr. Huinjogjebi’s decision was the wrong one. Commander Seungnyangi would take over the Weasel Unit and eclipse it, driving them out. Flower Hill and its plethora of fish and future servants would be lost to them, forever. Unless...
They would have to meet back up with the Chief of Staff, and form a plan to destroy both leaders, instead of traveling back to the command center and begging for the old weasel to listen to them. The other weasels stared in fascination as the thoughts began to run through their leader's head.
He began to pace around the room. This cannot be it. we cannot lose to those savages like that. “What can we do?”
“If you continue to walk along your path, you will find yourself…at the bottom of the stairs.” Junim paused, realizing that they had indeed walked to the top of the upper landing, and then back down. Almost as if the hog deer was being impudent... He turned slightly, intent to walk back up, maybe give a speech to rally his weasels. “But if you decide to fully turn around and walk upwards, you shall soon be at the top of the stairs.”
"So that is it! We will just have to fight for it!” So it was an analogy, not an insult.
One of the officers leaned forward. “We can take the younglings of the nearby villages hostage, and force the adults to fight for us like we did with the hyenas!”
Junim nodded, “Excellent idea, Jang-Gyo! With enough villages, we can use them as canon fodder when we force them against the Wolf Unit!”
“That is not an action I would recommend,” the hog deer warned, spoiling the rising mood.
Junim waved his hand towards the deer, “Do not contradict yourself, soothsayer. It was you who said we must walk the stairs to be at the top.”
The hog deer smiled, full and bright. “I will create for you a special meal that will hasten you to where you need to be. I assure you, that it will lift your spirit to the heavens.”
A magic potion! They are the real deal!
Junim barely watched as the hog deer began to mix the various plants into a cauldron, water quickly boiling. Leafy greens, strange powders that he had never seen before. Surely, the plants being used would allow him to mentally reach new heights, that would allow him to even become a greater leader than the Chief of Staff! He was in such a good mood, he even shared some of the mixture with his close companion, Jang-Gyo.
The effects took place within the hour, hitting Junim as he paced. He staggered, coordination the first thing to go as his being did indeed feel lifted for a moment. His weasel soldiers helped him to the ground as he groaned. The young weasel lord's energy and breathing slowed, a strange exhaustion he had never experienced taking hold. It was hard the breathe, and his heart seemed to be skipping beats. As his stomach and intestines felt as if they were going to rebel, the beaming smile from Soor-Hiran kept him calm, knowing that as soon as he slept, he would be able to follow his true path as the hog deer had promised.
It was Jang-Gyo who figured out the mistake, far too late, as his own coordination began to fail. “He’s dead! You killed him!"
The medic of the group sifted through the remains of the cauldron in horror. Azalea, daffodils, Lily of the Valley, the remaining sludge of onion powder and a yet unknown but sweet substance. All components incredibly poisonous to weasels. There must have been something in the mixture that prevented vomiting, as well, so that the poison could not be removed from the body easily.
Jang-Gyo moved as well as he could, grabbing the hog deer and holding a gun to their nose. “You must have the antidote! Give us the antidote!” He looked down in a panic, starting at the compass that the hog deer had been keeping in their hands. “It is here, isn’t it? There must be a secret compartment! Tell me how to open it or I will kill you!”
“…Twist the antlers on the deer counterclockwise, and you shall receive a medicinal needle that will assist you…”
Quickly, Jang-Gyo twisted the antlers as instructed, ignoring the yell from Jungsa, and yelped when two hypodermic needles shot out, stabbing his hand and injecting the contents. The effect was immediate, as his lungs began to close, dropping him to the floor.
Other weasels raised their guns, only to be cut down by blasts from the ceiling as a group of markhor goats descended from the ladder, toting portable radios. Caught by surprise, the rest of the weasels lowered their own guns, whimpering in fear. Quickly, they were disarmed and herded into the storage room on the far end as the other group left.
Finally, it was Jungsa who took charge, as he should have in the beginning, if that young idiot upstart had not stolen his power. But finally, with those useless fools gone, he could finally do his duty and lead the surviving soldiers. First order of business, escape the closet. Easy enough to do, since the door was rotten with age, and weasels were strong. Next, it was time to pick up their weapons and follow the escaping hog deer and goats. If those herbivores thought they could best carnivores, then they just needed to be taught a lesson to remind them of their place.
Some of their ammo and guns were gone, but that was to be expected as anyone would want to take them. They could come back for the bodies later. But now, it was important to shut the interlopers up, so they did not tell of their position. Chaand Hadia could not know that an enemy had infiltrated the country. It could result in them joining the war, on the side of Flower Hill.
But there were still the guns that could be trained on them. He remembered as soon as he stepped outside the door, only to be greeted with the hog deer pointing a large revolver directly at their forehead.
The hog deer smiled as the weasel raised his hands in surrender. "I will only fire upon his one, since he is your leader. The rest of you go back inside." Panicking, the weasels darted back in through he door, none of them wanting to see their leader decapitated by a bullet. "Don't do it!" His own voice sounded weak, pathetic in front of the herbivore, and he was glad the troops could not hear it.
The smile turned sinister as the hog deer pulled the trigger, eliciting a scream of despair. A red flag burst out, accompanied by some smoke, which quickly stopped. In shock, Jungsa dropped the gun he forgot he had been holding, unable to resist as the goats threw him back into the tower as the Hog Deer laughed.
The door to the outside was barred, forcing the weasels to waste time undoing the screws. Jungsa watched as the hog deer and markhor goats calmly suited up outside. The hog deer took off their red rimmed glasses, replacing them with wooden goggles with narrow horizontal slits, as if it was some sort of insult meant to mock how they had made a fool out of the superior species. It must be some sort of rude gesture from this country! But why are they so confident?
At the very least, it was a beautiful sunny day, light flashing off of the snow banks. It would hide them nicely as they followed from a distance to wait for the perfect moment to strike, in addition to how their prey had their eyes blocked themselves. It sure is bright…
The sun was beginning to set, the shadows deepening, as Soor-Hiran and their entourage reached the bottom of the mountain. Removing their snow goggles, they used a pair of binoculars to observe the weasels that had been following them for hours. As expected, the exposure to the constant UV lights from the sunlight without the protection of at least sunglasses had fully snow blinded the invaders. Those that were not running off of cliffs were crawling around screaming in a panic, shooting guns at nothing and each other. Much better revenge for threatening their beloved country than simply shooting them, as the goats on the upper floors had wanted. But the weasels had been stupid enough not only to not check the upper floor of their hideout, but to not even consider the meanings behind the warning words of the hog deer. And how could they be so imbecilic to believe that a single hog deer could possibly be a fortune teller at first glance? They knew parts of Flower Hill and the Weasel territory held mystic beliefs, but to trust such a fairy tale of finding the one who will guide you to victory?
If there were any survivors, the snow blindness would wear off in about forty eight hours, as long as they did not stare at any more snow. The bodies would be likely to attract the attention of the mountain patrols that would come by in a day or so. There had been quite a few deserters from the Weasel Unit trying and failing to make it over the mountains to find somewhere where they did not have to fight Flower Hill.
Normally, Soor-Hiran would have given the bodies they could find a burial. Wrap them in a shroud and dig holes for them. But, their own group was also trying to avoid the patrols, for their own reasons, which is why that had been using radios and radar high up in the tower to locate the patrols in the first place. Pulling the crown of the compass four times, waiting five seconds in between each movement, a compartment slid open, revealing a long piece of paper with a coded message, undisturbed by the action of the day. They closed it, quickly.
Geumbanji the mouse was paying them quite dearly to deliver this piece of paper to them, close to their own home town near the border of Flower Hill. As for what was on it, they did not now. It would not harm the security of Chaand Hadia, at least. No one in their own country would get hurt from it, and that was all that mattered other than the money that would change hands.
Afterwards, they would have to book it for the shore, where there was a boat waiting for them. A little-known piece of information they had paid much for, about how once a year, the dangerous strait around Jindo island calmed itself, allowing for smaller civilian boats to enter the Kingdom of Jindo, where a villagers would happily trade with known visitors. Soor-Hiran did so need to pick up more Xylitol. It had proven very useful in their travels in neutralizing threats to Chaand Hadia. Of course, there was other trade business to attend to there, that would enrich both parties.
But where to go next, after that, once they returned? There were two options
The first was the hot springs. A nice place to relax, for sure. The goats could soak themselves. Soor-Hiran themselves liked to watch the geysers, and maybe bottle some of the liquid from the acid pools for testing, later. Some clients would pay a lot of money for small vials of water with specific components.
There was of course, one loose end at the hot springs. Jago, the Rock Ptarmigan. It had caught their eye the first time, a member of a minority group working alone at a hot spring. Clearly suspicious, if one thought about it. They had paid close attention as the bird moved around, humming and signing. Sure enough, Soor-Hiran had recognized the tune. It was an older code for sure, but still recognizable. The country it had come from had sent scouts into Chaand Hadia years ago, to pick up assets of the locals, and have them pass on messages to scouts that would move through, pretending to be tourists.
Of course, Chaand Hadia’s anti-espionage department had captured, executed, and deported most of the enemy country’s scouts and assets, preventing a war, but that left behind some secret assets waiting for their handlers’ return. Still around, signing in code as they learned new information from the loose lips of visitors about the military, economy, and whatever else they were hired to eavesdrop on.
Unforgivable. Even if they are doing it to try and protect their people, they are still traitors to Chaand-Hadia. Normally, Soor-Hiran would have acted on the threat. But it was almost pitiful how the bird continued to sing, not knowing that he had been abandoned, any promise that had been offered betrayed as they themself were left to be torn apart by anyone else who recognized the codes.
However, given the situation, there was a money-making opportunity there. Perhaps the bird had heard something important, and was sending out a code that would inform them of any danger to their beloved country.
If need be, Soor-Hiran figured that if the rock ptarmigan became more of a danger than he was, they could always dispose of the bird themselves. After all, acid pools around geysers and hot springs could dissolve even bones. Then again, said bird was likely to know where the stronger pools were, and possibly catch them by surprise, if their gentle act was in fact, only an act.
No, it is best to let them live, for now. Soon enough, some official will hear them and have them arrested, anyway. The specific code system being sung had been discontinued since almost every country had deciphered it.
However, there was also the cultural center in the opposite direction. They had computers and phones to allow citizens to speak and communicate to individuals all around the world. It had been a while since they had spoken to Professor Neoguli, a person who Soor-Hiran could consider one of their rare friends outside of the country. The older raccoon dog had wanted to travel the world, and had wound up learning much about being an herbalist doctor from Soor-Hiran, before had had to return to his occupation as a professor at a prestigious university.
The raccoon dog’s honest fascination and respect for Soor-Hiran, their job, their country, and their culture, had touched the hog deer in ways not many could. They still held a close friendship, often sharing information about the war and current events when they could meet up or talk. Some of the information divulged could even turn a profit, or be part of the basis for a research paper.
In their last discussion, Professor Neoguli had mentioned that he had accidentally come into contact with an old student of his, Nunsongi, a squirrel from Flower Hill. Evidentially, she and a group of civilians and scientists had been abducted to be forced for work for the Weasel Units, but a computer glitch had allowed them to add one outside contact to avoid suspicion.
It sounded like information Flower Hill would pay handsomely to have, once enough information and proof had been gathered. Unless, of course, they already know, and are keeping it secret for a reason, and might try to silence anyone who found out.
Flower Hill’s scout network was quite fascinating, but also infuriating to find information on. His last visit to the Weasel Unit had turned up the leader of Squirrel Village, Geumsaegi, disguised as a mouse. His bond with the golden squirrel was such that they would never betray him willingly, a message that passed between the two as they briefly locked eyes.
Either way, so far, no one in the Weasel Unit been willing to pay a fair price for any information on Flower Hill's scout network.
As they prepared to sleep for the night, they vaguely wondered how the Weasel Unit had managed to kidnap enough Flower Hill citizens successfully. Well, the time-frame appeared to match up with when Geumbanji and his group had been near Flower Hill, and they had come into quite a lot of money around that time, enough to make them wildly successful…Well, it is something I will have to investigate further.
They had many plans for how to continue on their journey.