The Warden officer shouted after the squirrels: “By order of the law -”

“You are under arrest!” Squeaked Phai the Hatted Warden Fox, who is already leading an air strike on the scattered squirrels. A tiny, shiny warden badge hung round its neck, jiggling as it knocks into the chimes hanging off its conch hat.

Chief Warden Justice Prince Archibald Richmond Rutherford Du Octavio The Third stomped angrily after the fluffy squirrels and flying foxes, thinking to himself, how naïve he was earlier this day, when he was relieved to hear Mister Sir had already entrusted his Trope cards to a scurry of third parties.

The third parties were, of course, squirrels.

It took the Wardens and Police Foxes a whole afternoon to track down most of the Tropes. They are sure a few escaped, but with a toothy grin, Phai the red fox took flight, followed by many of its fellow foxes.

“Don’t worry! We’re good hunters!”

Chief Warden Justice Prince Archibald Richmond Rutherford Du Octavio The Third was worried.

Carefully logging the Tropes, he has already found some damaged. He wondered whether this would affect the Tropes, and whether the tooth marks meant the squirrels had eaten bits of the Tropes. He sincerely hoped not.

When the Warden Justice placed another nibbled Trope in his confiscation bag, he found his hand sticky. He took the card out again to wipe it.

The Trope is a Rank I Object, Marmalade: “It’s not jam.”

“Do Tropes leak?” He frowned. Taking a careful lick of his finger, he grimaced.

It really was marmalade.

- Extract from Holly Hill

Prince Archibald Richmond Rutherford du Octavio the Third takes the stage.

“Thank you, thank you for those kind words. As you all know, we've worked hard over these last few months setting up the Wardens. But it's been worth it. In these short months we have dealt with those clinging to the mistakes of the past, and we have mitigated a potential memeification of Squirrels.”

“Today I am pleased to announce that we are able to elect a new Chief Warden Justice to take command! I therefore invite anyone who would be interested to please join me up on stage.”

The crowd is silent, in anticipation of seeing who could be running. But no-one steps forward.

“As I said, if you’re interested please do come up.”

Still no-one steps forward. A murmuring begins somewhere at the back of the crowd.

“We need someone to volunteer? Anyone?”

The murmur builds louder, into a chant.

“Ar-chie!”

“Ar-chie!”

“Ar-chie!”

- Extract of a recording of the election of the first, and only, Chief Warden Justice

Thank you everyone for making the bring-your-child-to-work day last week so successful. I know that Cal had a wonderful time.

Ursa, they were fascinated by how you were able to work out what ideas could potentially memeify. Your memory of the old Academy’s records, coupled with your scrutiny of recent events on Vig-Net has always impressed me greatly. I have to say I am extremely proud that, with your guidance, Cal was able to identify the potential memeification of pool inflatables. The solution that you two calculated was rather ingenious! Such a minor change of the vignette hardly affected the story but makes Dream much safer for all of us – bravo!

Talc, your demonstration of your new Juice-based small-mammal containment net was very entertaining. I’m sure you’ll agree that as Cal and I tested it to great success, those robotic test-rabbits never stood a chance against the two of us! It is a great item for us to have in the case that the squirrels don’t stick to their agreement. Thank you to everyone else who took part in the day, I hope that we can run such events more often in the future.

Archie
Chief Warden Justice

This is ridiculous. You knew that things with Cyrus had been getting out of control, but you hadn’t realised they’d got this out of control. A battlestation? Now really. If the Dream Vanguard can’t keep themselves under control, then it’s just going to have to come down to the Wardens.

You admit to yourself that battlestations aren’t really something you’ve got much experience of… but you’re pretty sure that that number of Tropes in that particular combination is probably breaching some kind of regulation somewhere. You flick through the Warden guidebooks – your trusty tool for some of the more niche areas of Spindle law. B… B… Battlements, Battleship… Ah! Battlestation. You have to admit, you’re a little surprised that someone thought of this.

Giving it a quick read, you’re made aware of the fact that battlestations may be owned and used under a strict ‘permit only’ basis. They’re not illegal per se, but the government will only grant such a licence on the basis that someone isn’t going to abuse it.

Armed with your guidebook, you head out to Cyrus’ last known location. Upon arrival, it becomes apparent that some kind of showdown is going on between Cyrus and Brink – dramatically enough, just on the edge of the shadow of the battlestation above. Very atmospheric. On approach, Cyrus looks to be caught up in a radio conversation, while Brink looks on with one eyebrow seemingly permanently raised in one air. Above, a space battle rages around the station.

You decide to take no prisoners.

“Oi! You got a licence for that, mate?”

“Um, er. I think so…” mumbles Cyrus, the wind clearly taken out of his sails.

As though prompted, Lorem Ipsum appears – seemingly out of nowhere – at these words, and the space battle above dims to a quiet, as though it never happened. Neither of these trouble you in the slightest.

“Hand it over.”

Cyrus does so. To be fair to him, it is a legitimate battlestation licence. You’re slightly surprised that he went to all the effort. One day out of date though – so close.

“I’m going to have to impound this,” you begin.

“Impound it!?” Cyrus interrupts.

“Your permit’s expired. Those are the rules. I can’t bend them just for you.”

“Oh, come on…”

“Look, you can have your battlestation back as soon as you’ve got yourself the proper paperwork! It’s only procedure. You should be responsible enough to know how to take care of your own battlestation.”

Cyrus grumbles.

“Look, I’m just impounding it. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. You can have it back.”

Brink has ceased to raise one eyebrow, and instead is looking very concerned.

“You’re going to ground it. But that’ll kill us all!” he start, holding up The Pen that is Mightier than the Sword.

Cyrus opens his mouth to object, but too late.

Zap shrieks the pen, as it slices across Dream.