Lord Russano put aside the final piece of parchment. His pail was empty, the tabletop covered in bundles of scrolls. He looked around the crowded dining hall.

“So there you have it, my friends, how the great Lord Brocktree first came to our mountain, and the odd bond of comradeship which existed between him and a young haremaid. Dotti, as far as my researches show, became the first officer when our Long Patrol was formed. Thank you for listening to my account.”

The audience cheered him to the echo, standing to give the Badger Lord an appreciative ovation. There was only one creature not applauding, Russano’s son Snowstripe. He was three seasons younger than his sister Melanius and still a Dibbun in many ways. Snowstripe had been sitting on his mother’s lap, listening to the final episode of his father’s narrative, when he had drifted off into a slumber. Rosalaun had covered him with her shawl and let him sleep on. It was the noisy volume of the cheering that woke him.

Snowstripe yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Russano gathered his little son up, still wrapped in the shawl. “Come on, matey, time you were in bed.”

Looking up at his father, the youngster murmured drowsily, “Is the story finished, Papa?”

The Badger Lord shook his head solemnly. “Only a part of it, my son, a small part. One day you and your sister will rule this mountain and you will find that the story carries on. Both of you will live through your own adventures, make good friends of honest creatures. The defense of our coasts will be your responsibility, though fate and seasons forbid that you will have to face vermin invasion and war. Salamandastron’s story will continue, as long as there are brave badgers to rule the mountain wisely. Your mother and I have often told you and Melanius the law of Badger Lords. Can you remember what we said?”

As they mounted the stairs, Snowstripe’s eyelids began to droop, but he recited by heart the lessons he had been taught.

“Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right.”

Snowstripe gave out with a yawn, and his eyelids fluttered, gradually closing.

“Anything more?” Russano whispered in his ear.

As sleep overcame the little badger, he nodded. “Hmm, the Badger Lord of Salamandastron must always show a welcome an’ good cheer to all of true heart who come to visit here in peace. Our gates will be ever open to them . . .”

Snowstripe’s voice trailed off as slumber claimed him, and Russano completed the last line for his son.

“For this is the word of the Badger Lord and the law of Salamandastron, passed down to us from Lord Brocktree!”