The General's Power and the King's Duck Blind

The General's Power and the King's Duck Blind

A Chapter by Scott Free

The story up till now; The General is preparing for an invasion of Archipelago, with tips from the Diplomat; the King has asked the forces of the Academy for Aspiring Young Heroes and the Occupational Young Villain's Educatorium for help.


This was a perfect day. A perfect day for mutiny.

“Alright, men, you have the mutiny hook?” Bandith demanded.

“Mutiny hook, sir,” said the ten mutineers.

“Mutiny cutlass?”

“Mutiny cutlass, sir.”

“Mutiny growl?”

“Grrrrrrrrr, sir.”

“Quite good, quite good. Now, last of all, who are we going to make the new captain?”

“You, sir.”

“What's my name?”
“Bandith Forgurd Flapjack the Second and a Half, sir.”

One of them volunteered a hand in the air. “I been meaning to ask you about that, sir. Why the second and a half?”

“It involved my grandfather and a bad accident with a hacksaw. Now! Let's get out there and show that general what we're about, eh? Hand me the mutiny hook! Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Bandith Forgurd Flapjack the Second and a Half was a spy. He had been sent to incite mutiny in the Biastite ships. He had been sent by the spymaster because of course the king couldn't send a spy. If word got around he was doing tyrannical things like sending spies around the people might revolt. Not as if there were many people, but there wasn't much of a military either.
It had been so easy to infiltrate the enemy. Biast was so used to having to draft soldiers that when he had enlisted he had been promoted to Captain with no questions asked. After that things had just gotten easier, the General was an idiot and the Diplomat was a coward. The only stumbling block had been the Biastite soldier's fear that some almighty power helped them and was wielded by the General. After all Biast had never lost.
They had, however, gotten past these fears quite well. He had only been able to convince ten of them, but the Biast army relied mostly on going with the crowd and ten can look like an awful lot, especially when they're waving mutiny cutlasses and growling.

Bandith walked out of the barracks and headed towards the group of milling soldiers. They had captured the general and the diplomat had locked himself in his cabin. They didn't know what to do. That is why they had Bandith.
“You'll never get away with this ol' chap. I've got mad powers beyond belief. I can crush you where you stand!”
“No as a matter of fact you can't. You are just a stupid old man.” At this the soldiers gasped, Bandith couldn't stop there. “You have the brain of a platypus, no, more of a wallaby come to think of it. You only ever win battles because of us brave soldiers putting our life on the line. Well, we won't stand for it anymore. Jarklwhyn! Hand me the mutiny cutlass. Now, watch, all you! He has no power at all!” He grabbed the mutiny cutlass and raised it gleaming in the air. “Prepare to get a taste of your own medicine, old fool.”
“Hah, you shall be struck by might powers from above, young man. I pity your soul!”

Bandith didn't hesitate for more than a second before bringing the cutlass around and-
What happened next was not pretty. It seldom is when a half ton desk smashes a spy into the poop deck. The deck looked worse than its name. Needless to say the soldiers quickly untied the General. They were not as stupid as they were ignorant.
The General ordered the desk to be moved to his cabin. After three more casualties it was decided to leave it where it was.


This was a perfect day. A perfect day for conquest. General Fluct was standing on a dinghy send out from his flagship. Today they would conquer this new world. He struck a dramatic pose on the front of the dinghy and as soon as they hit ground he leapt.
Fluct dramatically stepped forward and drove his sword into the ground, claiming it for Biast. Which was, on reflection, where he went wrong.
Sea trolls are a complacent and fairly peaceful race. Except when someone shoves a sword into their butt and starts claiming them. When that happens they can be pretty ferocious, is a slow lumbering ton of bricks way.
Fluct ran. As a skilled General he knew all sorts of withdrawals. There were strategic withdrawals, offensive withdrawals, and even run like hell for your life withdrawals. This, however, was more of a if-I-get-on-the-boat-before-you-I-am-leaving-you-behind withdrawal. Often these types entailed standing on each others heads and pushing them behind so you could be the first one there. Fluct was an expert at that.
The fleet quickly turned to find a better spot to land. Maybe tomorrow they would Conquer the world.


King Emery’s head poked through the aperture.
“Quite handy thing, this duck blind, Chief General.”
The Chief General awakened with a start, and then nodded. “Oh, yes, thank you, Your Majesty. My wife uses it. Quite fond of ducks, she is. Well, stuffed ones, anyway.”
“You know,” said the Chief Spymaster, “I don’t feel exactly right, spying on the enemy from…from a duck blind.”
The three of them were indeed in the Chief General’s wife’s duck blind overlooking the sea. It was a cramped little box on top of several poles where, generally, a hunter would wait for prey to walk—or waddle—by.
Right now, however, it wasn’t ducks the King and his aides were watching.
“Quite a lot of them, don’t you think?” asked the Chief General, rubbing his bald scalp.
“Yes, but not quite enough. Not quite an overwhelming invasion, don’t you think? It’s as if the Emperor is saying that this is all they need to invade.”
“You were wishing for something more?” The Chief Spymaster puckered his lips.
“No, just reflecting on the irony of it all. What do you suppose would be a good strategy, General?”
“Well, sir, all we have to do is wait for them to roost, and then pull out our crossbows, pick the fattest ones and—“
The King waved his hand. “General, you’re getting duck hunting mixed up with war again.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. Do we still need to pluck the feathers out?”
The Spymaster twirled a curl of his beard in what he thought was a debonair fashion. “I have been working on this problem for quite a while, sire. You see, I in fact paid one of their men to start a mutiny on the Biastite ships.”
“Oh?” The King raised an uninterested eye. He had never really liked the Spymaster.
“Unfortunately, he seems to have been crushed by a…ahem, three-ton desk.” The Chief Spymaster fiddled with his cape.
“I see. Not much help, then, is he?”
“If we could even find the body, sire, I doubt he would be. But I think we’re on the right track, if I may, Your Lordship. Since we have no army to speak of, it is breaking the Biastite Army up from within that will save us the day. That way victory lies.”
“No.” King Emery pushed his hair out of his face and sat back on his box. “No, we will win when the Academy and the Educatorium come. That way victory lies.”
“But sire!” The Chief Spymaster clasped his hands together. “You can’t count on legitimate, perhaps disloyal forces when dealing with the fate of the kingdom.”
The Chief General spoke up. “You should let my elites at ‘em, sire. We’d show ‘em!”
“Oh,” the Chief Spymaster spat, “like you showed that weasel?”
“Hey, that was a feisty weasel, I keep telling you.”
The General and the Spymaster scowled at each other.
“Seems like you could learn a thing or two from that weasel,” the Spymaster said. “Your men could do with some more feist. They could also do with a bit more hair and an extra set of teeth.”
The Chief General’s eyes opened wide and indignant. “What are you saying about my men?”
“Only that their primary fortress is the Medvelin ‘Golden Years’ Nursing Home.”
“Well? Good defenses it has. We just put in a catapult, right next to the croquet field.”
The Chief Spymaster folded his arms. “Your men would have retired long ago if you knew the word ‘pension.’ Your cavalry is made up of two men in wheelchairs!”
“I still don’t see what you’re getting at. They’ve got people to push ‘em.”
“Now, men,” Emery said, pushing the two of them apart, “at times like these, we need to put aside our differences both in age and in opinion and foot this menace with our best face forward. You two may not have realized, but those are not a whole lot of soldiers out there. More than three times the inhabitants of this island, yes; but not a horde. The Emperor is overconfident. He hasn’t had a defeat in a good many years. Now let’s show him one, shall we?”
The Chief Spymaster frowned. “’Foot this menace with our best face forward’?”
“You know what I mean.”
The Chief General wasn’t listening. His eyes were in the aperture of the duck blind, looking up toward the mountain that rose from the middle of the island.
“You know, sire…”
“Hmm? What, Chief General?”
“I could swear that there are a pair of bright lights coming toward us…”

© 2009 Scott Free

Author's Note

Scott Free
Thanks for reading! Greg wrote the first part with the General and I wrote the second part. We both reviewed each others parts and edited them.
Any holes in plot, whether or not this part goes slow, anything you don't like please don't hesitate to tell me. I do NOT like reviews that just say 'sweet man good job yup. yup yup.' If that's really all you can say, that's all right, but I will be quite disappointed in you. Quite.
Have a good one.

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my favorite part is the cavalry of two old geezers in wheel chairs fighting off all comers from the fortress nursing home. i have known a few old cavalry in my local nursing home whose names still strike fear into the hearts of the entire medical community. (important note: one should never admit to being an "umphress" here in glen rose! just ask anyone who knows them.)

i like it! and i would love to hear more! is there any more planned out already?

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Added on October 3, 2009


Scott Free
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