Two Tales of master manipulators in their most natural element
The story of the grandson of the famous Reynarlemagne, “The Everything Fox” follows young Reynard as he makes his own mark on the world. This sequel to the classic tale of “Reynarlemagne” shows how well the fox can do in societal collapse, and in these pages, see for oneself how a takeover nature, if able to gain a footing, becomes a takeover culture.
“Reynarlemagne” is the story of the fox who came to be known as Reynard the Great. This tale of a schemer thriving in societal decay “comes before us,” said Thomas Carlyle, “with a character such as can belong only to very few, that of being a true world’s Book.” Over a millennium in the making, this classic is here paired with a sequel, “The Everything Fox.”
A generation following the overthrow of the Animalic Empire at the hands of the sons of the fox Reynarlemagne, which is a series of events that the translators of old, to our great detriment, chose not to translate, the various rumps had devolved into separate kingdoms, thusly becoming foreign to one another and openly hostile. This breakdown in form quite naturally led to a breakdown in general, and the growing chaos slowly enveloped all, forcing every animal, from lion to hare, out of his home or castle, and the world was now a tribalistic field of war.
At the time of our story, which happened to be that of the days surrounding Halloween, the most formidable of these petty kingdoms was under attack. Like each of the rumps, this small state still referred to itself in the terms of the Animalic Empire, but its lands had recently undergone a full season of unpunished raids from its neighbors, and the result was that the raiders had become emboldened then confederated, soon driving all the realm’s animals out of their homes and into a large, barren field. There, the residents of this rump sent up their tents and thus formed their new Capital.
On one side, the field was bordered by a wide river, so there was little concern of attack from here; however, the riverbank contained the ruins of a few watchtowers of old, from back in the days of prosperity when the commerce of the Empire had brought its rivers under navigation, and these relics were quickly garrisoned. Multiple appeals from the kingdom’s Fortifier’s Union, which was, of course, in charge of fortifications, had called for the stones of the old watchtowers to be converted to defenses elsewhere, but these requests, when reaching those in overall charge, had gone summarily denied; for though death and decay had lost to the animals the ability to themselves build and use water vessels, they were not willing to be certain that this ability had been likewise lost elsewhere.
The other three sides of the new Capital featured no impediments to movement, whether river, hill, or forest; accordingly, these sides had featured a series of earthworks for as long as the realm’s court had been in its present location. The recent flood of refugees, which included every animal in this section of the old Animalic Empire, had swelled the radius of the animals’ tents, and on all sides, their numbers, practically overnight, had passed beyond the limits of the established defenses. Those in charge had, of course, responded appropriately, and an outer series of earthworks had been begun, though these new fortifications could not, due to sheer practicality, match in size and surety the inner series.
Naturally, the new defensive works were within the purview of the Fortifier’s Union, and due to the immensity of their importance, they were regarded as the personal responsibility of the Union’s Chief Fortifier, a bull by name of Wirke. The grandson of the bull Borre who had faithfully served the last of the lion Emperors, Wirke had entered the Fortifier’s Union at a young age, and the career had been an escape for him from following the path of his father, which had been that of a zealous soldier who dies young; further, the animal’s early-age large size had made the Fortifier’s Union the most available profession to him, and also due to his size, he had advanced rather rapidly, and it had been a few friends in the right places that had recently secured for him the position of Chief Fortifier.
-opening to “The Everything Fox”
“I apologize,” Cookie said, and the extremity of his embarrassment did not allow him to look at him to whom he spoke. “I do not know what came over me, and it must be the butterflies that I have in my stomach. I have never met a Worthy before.”
Reynard took in the apology for several moments, and he was so good at his craft that neither the cat nor mouse, in that space of time, was able to read his thoughts in his face. From the smorgasbord before him, the fox selected one of the morsels, and he lifted the bit just short of his lips before speaking.
“You mean, I am sure,” he said, “the foxes in your stomach.”
For differing reasons, neither Tybert nor Cookie made immediate reply to Reynard’s comment; however, there did exist a similarity between the pair in that both were confused, though one was completely so while the other was crossly. Try as he might, the cat could not comprehend why the fox would waste his time on one so vulnerable as Cookie, and the mouse, try as he might, could not make sense of his error, though he did not, in the slightest, doubt its existence.
“Foxes in the stomach,” Cookie said after a moment, his hand to his chin and his thoughts in his memories. “I do not believe that I have heard it that way before. Foxes in the stomach.”
“I, too, have only heard it expressed the other way,” Tybert agreed, his indignation forcing his involvement.
“Well, there is only one way that I have ever heard it,” Reynard replied matter-of-factly.
The certainty with which the fox expressed himself seemed to allow for no rebuttal; for the Worthy, in perfect alignment with his words, uplifted his nose, and his eyes did not deign to looked downward.
“Foxes in the stomach,” Cookie repeated to himself such that he could faintly be heard. “Foxes in the stomach.”
Tybert, meanwhile, stared out over the benches of his restaurant while moving his lips in a manner of evident counting, pretending that a concern for business had taken sudden hold of his attention, and Reynard appeared willing to accept such as a backdown to his challenge.
“It just doesn’t sound right to me,” Cookie said aloud, looking to Reynard and thus missing Tybert’s attempt to make eye contact. Letting fall his gaze, Reynard turned its severity upon Cookie, but the mouse was too inebriated to be affected, and he merely continued in his attempt to understand.
“I do not believe, my friend, that you properly heard me,” the fox said after noticing that Cookie persisted in not taking his hints. “I said that my way is the only way that I have ever heard it. My way is the only one that makes sense, too, after all; for I can testify to the fact that I eat butterflies all the time, and they never negatively affect my stomach.”
Cookie considered the point for several moments.
“A fox in the stomach would certainly be much more uncomfortable,” he admitted.
“It would, indeed,” Reynard replied. “It is the correct way to say the idiom, too, so there is that point in its favor, as well.
-from “The Everything Fox”
Before he became known as Reynard the Great, or Reynarlemagne, for short, the fox named Reynard was first but an animal in the court Noble VI, King of All Beasts and ruler of the Animalic Empire, that kingdom of kingdoms that had peacefully endured under its line of lion rulers for longer than any now remembered. Reynard, like most animals able to be at court, possessed both lengthy lineage and plentiful estates; however, the fox had also, through inheritance all his own, gained for himself a lengthy record of crimes as well as many enemies. Comeuppance, therefore, the other animals of King Noble’s realm expected to soon come to the fox, and a number of them were determined to bring about the effect, as well.
Reynard, hearing rumor of the plot against his plots, could think, at first, to do no more than remove himself from court; for such, at least, put him beyond reach of immediate wrath. The aggrieved, thus robbed of immediate opportunity, resolved to best compose and combine their complaints into a single address, which the best speaker among them could make to the King. In this way, they agreed, the fox’s fate would be sealed.
Consequently, when the time of Pentecost arrived and King Noble proclaimed a feast, the animals against Reynard selected the wolf Seagram to be their representative, and he, of course, consented. Then went the wolf before the lion, determined to bring about the end of the fox.
-opening to “Reynarlemagne”
Soon, the pair came to a particular cluster of trees, and to one of them, Reynard pointed.
“Sir Bruin,” he said, “my stock of honey is stored in there. See that hole in the tree? All the honey I have, my vast hoard of it, is in there.” “Why do you keep it all the way out here,” the bear asked.
“Remember, I do not like it. Now, go and have your fill. You can lean in the opening and scoop out however much you want. Be careful to not make yourself sick, though.”
“Honey make me sick? Worry not for me, friend Reynard; for I could eat honey without end.”
“Prove it. No being is so, even bear.”
Without further word, Bruin strode up to the tree. The hole in question was rather high up, and the bear poked in his head then thrust himself in further.
“Friend Reynard,” he called out, “are you sure that we have come to the right tree? I can see no honey.”
“It is there,” the fox answered, “I am certain. Here, friend, allow me to help you.”
With that, the fox came up behind the bear, and with one big push, he thrust Bruin further into the tree, such that, at his midsection, the bear was stuck. Instantly, Bruin began thrashing about in an attempt to free himself, but in his zeal to get in, he had made no easy way out.
“Is the honey good, friend Bruin?” Reynard asked, having moved far enough away that the violent struggles of the bear could not affect him. “Be sure not to eat more than you can handle, and remember, you are now my friend at court.”
“Villain!” Bruin cried. “Confound your villainy, and may misdeeds one day befall the misdoer. Led, I have been to pastures lacking the pleasant, and misadventure has come to surround me in its entrapment. O that I ever trusted word of fox!”
Quite naturally, Bruin’s situation, loud as it was, drew the attention of all the birds who happened to have nearby nests, and to these, Reynard now turned his voice.
“Grab them all, Sir Bruin,” he cried aloud. “You may have dropped the nests into that tree, but hurry, I say, and retrieve them. Just think of all that we have stolen; for we got them all, a clean sweep of every limb. Hurry, now, bring back those eggs.”
“Eggs?” Bruin cried. “What new lie is this? It is honey that I was after and which has ruined me.”
Before he could say more, the bear was attacked from behind. The attackers, the neighborhood birds, having heard that so many nests were threatened, plucked up courage, and now, seeing their adversary in so unadvantageous a position, they attacked with fearless fury, laying waste to Bruin’s backside. In dive-bombing shifts, the aerials conducted their raid, and blood-letting success made them all the more hungry for more. Indeed, for most, this would be their only opportunity to ever attack a bear; accordingly, their spirts were in it from a point past mere defense.
