Five
CLOVER
The troll rebellion is over.
For now…
But if there’s one thing I know about trolls, it’s that they’re gluttons for punishment. It’s almost as if they enjoy a semiannual ass-beating from the Alrgarvian Aligned Forces. Today’s victory is simply a reprieve from the fight to keep the trolls out of our crops, chicken coops, and legendary croissant shops.
Still, it’s a victory I intend to enjoy with a flask of ale and a solid ten hours of sleep. The rest of the force will be drinking and dancing in the fields around our base until the sun comes up, but as a junior commander, I must hold myself to higher standards of decorum.
It’s no hardship, really. I don’t enjoy drinking cheap whiskey until I’m dizzy, vomiting into tick-filled grass, or falling into bed stinking of campfire smoke and fried pig skin.
I’m allergic to campfire smoke.
And cheap whiskey.
And fun.
I’mnotallergic to fun, but the other junior commanders think so. They happily ignore the Decorum Manifest—at least, once they’re outside the kingdom gates—but none of them have my particular weakness.
If I stay out late to drink and dance, I know what will happen.
What always happens…
My blood will heat, my defenses will flag, and, sooner or later, I’ll find myself at Commander Kate’s quarters, sneaking between the tent flaps while his guard’s back is turned, proving his security force needs an overhaul.
And proving I have less self-restraint than a troll pillaging an Algarvian pastry shop on a Sunday morning…
But in my defense, Commander Dean Kate isn’t just any military man with a storied career. He’s the bravest, strongest, most noble commander in our force. He’s the man who developed the pit trap-and-release method of troll containment that transformed our once bloody missions into something more humane. He led the charge to domesticate the giant crows who carry us into battle with our more vicious enemies to the north and lobbied the royal family to create retirement villages for elderly soldiers.
He’s also built like one of the old gods, with shoulders broad enough to block the sun, a chest chiseled from granite, and a cock so long and thick that a girl begins to understand why human women will tumble a troll, now and then.
Yes, trolls are green and slimy, but every one of them is hung like Commander Kate. And rumor has it, troll men know what to do with those chubby green lizards between their legs…
The commander’s “lizard” is also highly skilled, and not the slightest bit green or slimy. If he weren’t my superior, he would be the perfect man.
And just like that, as if the architects of the cosmos are eavesdropping on my thoughts, I duck into my tent and come face-to-face with Commander Kate.
Sitting on the edge of my bed…
Waiting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I protest, at the same moment he says, “I know I shouldn’t be here.”
We exhale ragged laughs.
Twinlaughs.
Like the twin flames that burn in our hearts.
And loins…
“Toss it all,” I say, flinging my flask to the ground. “I don’t care if?—”
His mouth covers mine, and we fall onto my furs in a tangle of eager limbs, tearing at each other’s armor.
My leather vest hits the ground, and my linen shirt is about to follow it, when?—
