[INDENT][COLOR=SILVER][h3][b]B A N C R O F T[/b][/h3][/COLOR][/INDENT][hr]
[color=darkgray][INDENT][INDENT]The young mouse took a slow but intentional step backward. The fresh soil beneath his paws was cool and moist, finding its way between every toe as he gingerly took another step. The wooden shaft in his hand was gripped tightly, the axe handle extended before him while the weight of the axe head sat behind his paws. A sharp crack filled the air as Bancroft, son of Geoffrey Fieldmouse, parried the incoming attack. The rat in front of him, pushed down harder on his weapon, using his larger size to try to take the advantage. Standing his ground, Banny grit his teeth, his ears flattening towards the back of his head.

With a feint to the left, the young mouse suddenly put all his might to the right, pushing the weapon away from his head before moving it through a smooth arc and neatly disarming his foe. Spinning around on a heel, Bancroft stopped the weapon just short of the rat’s neck.

[COLOR=WHITE][b]“BANCROFT G. FIELDMOUSE!”[/b][/COLOR] The voice echoed across the field freezing the young mouse in place. Laughter erupted from the brown rat in front of him as Bancroft sheepishly lowered the axe handle and turned to face his mother.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I can only assume the field must be fully tilled if the two of you have time to play pretend?”[/COLOR] Lonicera asked, her tone unamused. Her eyes darted from the axe gripped between her son’s paws and the hoe laying where it had been discarded after Bancroft disarmed Riker.

[COLOR=WHITE]“You both could have seriously injured yourself, tools are not toys.”[/COLOR] Lonicera continued, picking up the hoe and handing it back towards Riker. [COLOR=WHITE]“Banny, get washed up.”[/COLOR] She ordered, motioning with both head and tail for the younger mouse to head back to the brick farmhouse. [COLOR=WHITE]“Despite this setback, I think we can still make the Name Day feast at the Abbey.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“We’ll be takin’ care of things here, Ms. ‘Cera,”[/COLOR] Riker responded. [COLOR=WHITE]“Lots to plant yet.”[/COLOR] The brown rats had always farmed in Mossflower, even as far back as the days of Matthias and Cluny the Scourge. In those days, the latter had destroyed their homes to pressgang the rats into his army. While there was still plenty of animosity between rats and the Woodlanders, the brown rats that lived near the farm had always been of the agreeable sort. After the death of Bancroft’s father, Geoffrey, along with many of their farmhands, Lonicera, Bancroft’s mother, had managed to make a deal with the rats and in exchange for a share of the crops and a portion of the more fertile land, they helped to work the farm as partners.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Thank you, Riker,”[/COLOR] Lonicera responded as the large rat returned to the till while the two mice moved back towards their home. Adjusting the crimson scarf around his neck, the young mouse made a small squeak as if he was about to speak. Only now just entering his adult seasons, Bancroft often felt his mother saw too much of his father in him. He wasn’t content to be a farmer, he wanted to go on adventures. Bancroft wanted to see Salamandastron, he wanted to venture to Southsward.

More importantly, he wanted to swing a real sword. When he was younger, he had watched his father practice. He’d watch mesmerized as the metal blade twirled through the air, neatly slicing through apples and candle wicks. He touched a paw to the scarf draped around his neck once more, it sometimes felt like the ache of this wound would never go away.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I miss him too,”[/COLOR] His mother interjected, seemingly reading Bancroft’s mind. [COLOR=WHITE]“He used to love feasting at the Abbey, Geoff was quite fond of the cellarhog, Ellis. He had many friends within those sandstone walls. Your father was renowned for having the appetite of a hare, the rowdiness of an otter, and the speed of a squirrel.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“How did you meet him?”[/COLOR] Bancroft asked.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I met him at the Abbey. I was an initiative, on my way to being a Sister of the Abbey. But your father had other plans. Few could refuse his roguish charm. He was a farm boy, but so full of life and zeal. I see so much of him in you, my Banny.”[/COLOR] Lonicera stated, looking up at Bancroft with a sad smile. A single tear welled up in the corner of his eye before she laughed suddenly.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I’m still not used to you being taller than me.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“Get used to it, Mom,”[/COLOR] Banny retorted, [COLOR=WHITE]“I’m not going to get any shorter.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“Ah, there you two are.”[/COLOR] A baritone of a voice called. Turning to its source, Bancroft suddenly found it was his turn to look up. Standing over top of the two mice was an older otter, silver dusted his muzzle and was flecked throughout his fur. Hoyt Tidebreaker had been a long-time friend of the family. The sea otter had taught Geoffrey everything he knew about how to handle a weapon and in turn, had also taught Bancroft a thing or two whenever Cera wasn’t hovering over the young mouse. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“Wagon be all ready to head up to the Abbey whenever yer ready, mateys,”[/COLOR] Hoyt stated, motioning towards the wheeled cart behind him. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“Thank you, Captain,”[/COLOR] Cera smiled as she climbed inside, [COLOR=WHITE]“Bancroft, go clean up.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=WHITE]“Aye, aye, Mom!”[/COLOR] He saluted smartly before rushing inside. Dusting his fur off, Bancroft cleaned the soil from his feet before changing his footwraps for freshly laundered ones. One after all didn’t want to wear soiled footwraps to the Name Day Feast.

Emerging from the farmhouse, Bancroft took a second to wave to Riker one last time before clambering aboard the wagon. Nodding to both of his passengers, Hoyt took hold of either shaft emerging from the front of it and began to pull them towards the direction of the Abbey.

[hr]
Friar Rudolph ‘Ruddy’ Riverswyft hurriedly moved around the Abbey Kitchen. The river otter was hard at work as various dishes began to come to a point of completion. Still, it felt like the work was never-ending, there was still shrimp to peel, potatoes to boil and carrots to chop. A few more paws could go a long way towards helping pull it all together. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“Well, slap me rudder and call me a beaver.”[/COLOR] Friar Ruddy bellowed as he erupted into thunderous laughter. [COLOR=WHITE]“Zaris and Rigby, I could kiss the pair of ye, what is it here that you’ve a-brought me? Some right proper kitchen aids is it?”[/COLOR] The rotund otter was absolutely mirthful at the site of the two Abbey dwellers and the three vermin. 

[COLOR=WHITE]“Tis happens every year, some vermin wanting a handout meander into the abbey and ol’Jethro sends ‘em to me.”[/COLOR] Ruddy rubbed his paws together, happily slapping his rudder against the Abbey’s stone floor. [COLOR=WHITE]“Righty then, Rigby, can you show the vixen there how to peel the shrimp. Yous there, Ferret and Stoat, I’ve gots vegetables that need chopping but the whole lotta of ye best be washing yer paws up before you touch anything.”[/COLOR]

The happy otter turned towards Zaris last.

[COLOR=WHITE]“I suppose you’ll be heading back to Brother Jethro, I was wondering if you could maybe instead check the cellar for some more hotroot. I think the soup is lacking in kick and that just won’t do.”[/COLOR] Tossing a candied chestnut towards Zaris for his trouble, Ruddy turned back around to his four conscripts.

[COLOR=WHITE]“Alright, let's get cracking lads and lady!”[/COLOR][/INDENT][/INDENT][/COLOR]