Mary Anne Gruen - The House of Red

As Matilde had said, King Wendell was watching the battle between his troops and the giant Hoban from a cluster of trees not far from the action. He was dressed in the same style uniform as his human troops, so as not to be picked out as a target by the enemy. When Carpathian had reported to him that morning that a giant was approaching, he’d been astounded. But he knew better than to question his furry Captain. He’d never thought of the giants as possible attackers. After all, their obsession with alcohol kept them pretty harmless, albeit loud at times. People hardly ever saw giants anymore. Yet here was one swinging a battle-ax at his troops.

Just beyond the giant was a battalion of trolls, lounging under some trees on the other side of the river. At first they had watched and laughed. Then when Bluebell saw that Wendell’s troops would not be so easily vanquished, he gave the order for his men to sleep.

It was infuriating for Wendell to watch. What did they intend to do? Let the giant do their fighting for them till he got tired? Would they then take over? Obviously he had to give the order to cut back some of the troops so he could have them fresh for the second onslaught.

“Your Majesty?” Rose said, appearing from behind a tree. She was panting as if she had run a long way. Over her shoulder were a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“Rose, how did you know I was just thinking of giving an order?”

“I didn’t. Sir, I was in the battle when an elf flew over to me with this packet of messages.” She handed him a small leather envelope containing the notes from Cinderella and the Chancellor. “He said you’re to read them at once.”

“Thank you. No doubt they know we’re already under attack.”

“Yes.”

Wendell read the notes, his young face suddenly looking older. “My grandmother’s kingdom is also under attack. But her troops are not doing as well as ours. She wants to put together a battalion of wolves and asks if we could send a couple of wolf commanders with experience at maneuvering.”

“I will go, if you like.”

“No. I trust Carpathian implicitly but I find you easier to talk to. You, uh, don’t mind staying, do you?”

Rose’s face betrayed no emotion. “Whatever you need.”

“Then, ask Carpathian to leave at once for the border of the First Kingdom and tell him to choose a second wolf to join him as an aide.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“You don’t mind handling all the wolf troops by yourself, do you?”

“No, your Majesty. I’ll name an aide to help me as well. You said something about wanting to give an order?”

“Oh, yes. These notes put it out of my head. I’ve been noticing the trolls, lolling about over there.” He waved the letter packet in the direction of the troll border. “I fear they’re planning on attacking after that big blond menace gets tired. Divide out some of the wolf troops for tonight’s battle and tell Lieutenant Burke to do the same with his human archers.”

“Yes, Sir. With your permission, I’d like to use most of the pureblooded wolves during the day and keep back the part-wolves for battle at night. The part-wolves can use swords and bow and arrow. And they can see and smell the trolls in the dark with greater ease than a human. But, to tell the truth, we’re not so good at fighting the giant as the pureblooded wolves.”

“As you say,” Wendell said, slipping the notes and leather pouch into his pocket.

Rose looked at him one moment more and then said, “Am I dismissed?”

“Yes, thank you. I only just wonder how you found me. I’ve been wandering in and out of the trees and brush for hours, watching the battle from all angles.”

Rose pursed her lips and almost looked guilty. “You have a very, uh, specific scent, your Majesty. I usually know where you are.”

Wendell looked both surprised and confused at the same time. “Indeed. I’m not really sure how I should take that.”

Rose stared down at the ground and shifted her booted feet. “It wasn’t meant as an insult, Sir.”

“Very well. You’re dismissed.” Wendell watched her go and thought to himself that maybe he’d been falling behind on his bathing. After all, war was no excuse for being sloppy.