Once the first group from Mendenwal entered the valley floor, I rode forward, flanked by Mott and my standard bearer, who held the flag of Carthya aloft in the morning breeze. It was emblazoned with my family’s coat of arms over the blue and gold colors that had always symbolized the compassion and courage of my country. We stopped within calling distance of each other, no closer than necessary.
Their commander had brought ten men ahead with him. Since I had only Mott and a poorly armed standard bearer, the ratio seemed about right for our respective forces. I called to their commander, “What brings Mendenwal into war against Carthya? We have no quarrel with you.”
“We ride on orders from King Humfrey. His reasons are his own.”
“And are you certain those reasons are worth your deaths?” Mott cleared his throat as a warning to me, but I only smiled and raised my voice. “I don’t wish to offend your king, of course, but it’s clear his reasoning abilities have abandoned him. Perhaps you should take your armies and go home, while you can.”
“You will not insult the king of Mendenwal!” the commander cried.
“It’s not an insult. Only an observation of fact. The only reason King Humfrey would invade my country is because he was either threatened or else Avenia promised him something gold and shiny. Please believe me when I tell you that Avenia will not keep its promises. They are using you to destroy me, and they will turn on you next. For your own sake, Commander, I urge you to ride home as fast as your wobbly horse can carry you.”
The commander’s face tightened, which nearly made me laugh. I hadn’t deliberately made anyone this angry since Master Graves had attempted to teach me my letters at Farthenwood so many months ago, and it felt good.
The commander gestured to the hundred men far behind me. “Is that your army, King Jaron? Or did you bring your country’s fiercest kittens?”
I briefly turned back to them. “Be warned. Our kittens will scratch like lions. The men behind me are the ones who wanted the honor of crushing your army.”
“I could send my nursemaids out here to fight those men.”
“I’m sorry you have such little value for your nursemaids. We invite them to become Carthyan citizens. You are warned, Commander. We will defeat all of your army camped here this day. I meant what I said before. Most of your men will not survive. Including you.”
The commander laughed. “Surrender to me now, Jaron.”
“No, you surrender to me!” I yelled. “I’m bored of this conversation. Either promise to leave Carthya this instant and you will live, or go and fetch your armies. I will take out the first thousand myself. Maybe more if they’re no sharper than you seem to be.”
The commander looked to his companions, who snorted their disdain for me, and then he said, “Very well, King Jaron. You have sealed your doom.”
“So said the last man I defeated. Off you go, then! Bring me your worst, and hurry! I was awake early and am hoping for a nap this afternoon.”
As the Mendenwal group rode away, Mott turned to me and said, “Are you insane?” I smiled back at him and he said, “Of course you are. Please tell me you have a plan.”
“Here’s my plan,” I replied. “We stay right here. Do you know any tunes to whistle while we wait?”
Apparently, Mott did not know any tunes for whistling, but he did work in a nice chorus of grunts and sighs.
The Mendenwal armies must have been ready to march, because it wasn’t long before I saw them. Mendenwal soldiers were swordsmen, well trained and well disciplined. There were far too many of them to travel by horse, so nearly all of them entered the valley on foot. I saw the commander and his leaders on their horses, but they led from behind, which I had expected. They wanted the least valuable of their men, the ones in front, to take the worst of whatever my armies would bring.
“How many men are coming?” I asked Mott.
He squinted. “I estimate at least a thousand already on the march, but I can’t see the end of their lines. You can’t expect to fight them all.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t expect to fight any of them.”
Once they were close enough to begin the battle, the order was given for the soldiers to run for the three of us. I made a loud comment about the unfortunate tendency of Mendenwal women to sprout warts on their faces, then turned and began riding away. Not too quickly. Just a bit faster than they could run.
“Our one hundred can’t handle them,” Mott said. “Some are very poor fighters.”
“That’s why they’re here, and not with the others.”
Mott quickened his horse to keep pace with mine. “I cannot believe that you would sacrifice these men for any reason. It’s not like you.”
I only smiled. “How many men are behind us now?”
He glanced back and said, “Their lines are in disarray. But the valley is quickly filling.”
By the time we reached my men, panic was clear on their faces. Most had drawn their swords, ready for a battle that was certain to end in devastating failure.
“Why do you all look so worried?” I asked, riding around them. “Have you seen the bright sun rising today? Is anyone else feeling warm?”