Sitting at his desk, Cullen tried to stretch out a cramp as the Lieutenant rattled off the last of his report. A pounding picked up in the back of Cullen’s head, but he knew how much the troops liked to gossip if they caught him massaging his temples.
“...and that should be the last of our troops out in the Emerald Graves.”
“Until Fairbanks suddenly upsets another noble’s gilded chamber pot and then we’re right back at square one,” Cullen muttered. He watched the Lieutenant gather his report off the desk, Cullen jerking his chin to dismiss him. With that, Cullen dug into the drawers on his desk to find a fresh ink pot.
“Ah, Ser,” the Lieutenant announced. “It appears you have another meeting scheduled.”
“That can’t be right, I--” Cullen began when he heard the hard smack of tiny shoes slapping into the floor.
Two small hands smeared in mud clung to the edge of his desk, the fingernails that needed trimming flexing into the wood. A smile rose upon his lips and he glanced up to the Lieutenant lingering in the doorway.
“Dismissed, my next very important appointment has arrived,” Cullen said, his tone deadly serious even as his grin brightened. The Lieutenant closed the door in his wake, and Cullen’s Very Important Guest scrabbled up on her tiptoes.
A sliver of dark blonde hair peeked over the edge of his desk and a tiny voice more dramatic than a dragon’s breath said, “Commander Daddy!”
“Scout?” he responded. She wouldn’t accept anything other than her rank.
“I has a report,” his little scout declared as she slapped a scrap of parchment onto the desk.
Cullen tugged it closer, holding it as tight in his hands as he would any other report from his troops. “Hm, mm-hm,” he muttered while staring at what looked like a few quill squiggles and a cat print over one of Dorian’s letters. How she swiped it past Pavus was anyone’s guess. That came from her mother.
Bright brown eyes darted from the edge of his desk, his Scout daughter on the very edge of her toes as she watched him.
“Summarize,” Cullen declared, slapping her report down. He tented his fingers together while watching her.
“I...I discovered that you don’t pony enough,” his Scout said while scrabbling a hand to snatch at her report. “Commander Daddy needs to pony more.”
Cullen pushed back from his desk and rose to his feet. His daughter stared skyward at him, her hands slapping to her chest in a mock salute. “Well,” he reached down, plucking her off the ground. Giggles burned in his ear as he maneuvered her behind his shoulders. “I never go against my best scout’s recommendations.”
“Yay!” she tugged on the fur around his neck, her little legs kicking hard into him. “Go, horsey!”
Cullen gave out a loud neigh, pawed at the air with his hands as if they were hooves, and began to trot out of his office. As he moved around the battlements, his troops would all salute the Scout on her trusty steed.
