Chapter Text
“You need some help?” Branch called out to the critter-keeper troll currently hanging from the slow-moving ceiling fan by the back of his suspenders.
“I’d appreciate it,” Milton said, sheepishly.
Branch bit his lip looking around the tack room attached to the stables. It had been built into a collection of the Redwood Arena’s exposed roots. Close enough to the Forest Guard’s headquarters for conveniency but with enough space for the critter mounts to graze and live comfortably. Including plenty of pens, nesting spaces, tack room and even a vet station. The design was a project co-consulted between Branch and one Milton Moss.
While Branch knew a lot about wild critter behavior, he didn’t know much about keeping them. Milton was recommended by both Poppy and Smidge when Branch brought up the problem when it came to possibly keeping mounts for the soldiers. Initially he had been hesitant, they weren’t building a pet pen after all, especially since Smidge seemed oddly smiley while telling the captain about the vet’s extensive knowledge and skills. However, the purple troll had very quickly proved to be one of the few sane trolls that Branch had somehow missed during his outcaste days. Enthusiastic about the project when approached, but very practically minded. Understanding this was meant to be functional first instead of flashiness.
All in all, Branch liked him. Could call Milton a friend even. He learned a lot from working with the critter-keeper and Milton in turn had learned a lot from Branch. The purple troll was practically drooling over all of the journals Branch had recording the local predator migrations he had tracked over the years.
Which was why he didn’t bother laughing at the critter-keeper as he dangled from the ceiling fan. It was hilarious, but Branch wasn’t that mean. Unfortunately, since the stables was only recently completed then didn’t have a lot of furniture or actual mounts and tack. It was a work in progress. His eyes caught some of the dry roots they still hadn’t pulled out of the dirt back wall, and clicked in his tongue as an idea began to form.
“Hold on one minute, and reach for the floor with your arms and legs,” Branch called out.
“Roger chief,” Milton said.
After watching the fan to get a sense of the slow pace of the blades and calculating the needed timing. Branch leaped into a flip, bouncing off the dried bend root that loosely threaded the dirt on the wall. Springing upwards into and arc and grazing the ceiling, he hooked his clawed fingers on to the back of Milton’s caught suspenders straps. Slipping the purple troll off of the fan blade smoothly, and catching him with his navy-blue locks as Branch himself landed in a crouch.
“Thanks,” Milton said dusting himself off and hopping to the ground.
“No, problem. How’d you even get up there?” Branch asked.
“Ah, one of the humming bugs I’m training didn’t like being measured for his saddle. Ran off after flinging me.”
“Do we need to chase it down?”
“No. This one has good homing instincts. He’ll eventually making back to his nesting grounds,” Milton sighed, “Uh, what did you want to ask me, again?”
“Oh, I was merely checking in on how much progress we have regarding the Mount Project.”
“Right, well, despite what you walked into, I’m actually very happy where we currently are. Right now, we have a small flock of Bloodhound Beatles, 15 in all, for long range communication. Once the barrier outposts are built, we’ll have a ready delivery system for letters. In terms of the mounts,” Milton winced, “That’s a little slower going. Humming bugs, are quick and not complicated to care for, but…”
“They can be temperamental?” Branch interjected. He had faced a few Humming Bugs in the wild, and they were tricky things when they want to be.
The species was highly territorial of their nests and had high agility when flying around. Both of which were considered positives when Branch and Milton sat down to compare notes on possible mounts for the Guard. If they could convince the Humming Bugs the village was a nest they would work with the Guardsmen while in battle to defend their home. However, this also meant they would need to raise the flock from the late juvenile stage. Not harmful, but difficult.
“Yes,” Milton sighed, “It might be a few months.”
“We’ll make due,” Branch reassured, “Most of the troops are nearly expert tree hoppers at this point. I’ll check in next week, if you’re okay with it.”
Milton nodded.
“They’re so sweet,” Guy trilled at her side, his eyes glittering at the sight of his son playing with his fellow trollings.
Poppy took a deep breath, the gentle smell of newborn summer heat and sunshine filling her lungs as utter content wrapped her being.
The village square was always beautiful, but the young queen felt that this was its best time of year. Summer flowers blooming, bigger and tougher, different from their more delicate youthful spring siblings, already sadly wilted from the bright sun. The warm wind that swirled all in a comforting hug. The seemingly endless sunny weather. And finally, the joyful shouts as trollings took time away from their studies and chased after each other in the dry moss and grass.
Poppy blinked, watching as the glittery newborn tumbled together with his new peer into a pile of trimmings. Their laughter like silver bells in the queen’s ears.
Perfect, she thought.
This image, her people happy and prospering. The sun shining down on her village, rebuilt into something stronger. Their children laughing and playing without a care. This was perfect. Everything was perfect.
Yet, her stomach twisted at the sight too. Close to a year ago, they almost lost this. Poppy almost failed her people. What a foolish princess she had been, thinking that everything would’ve worked out with simply a shallow smile and no actual work behind it. Happiness was still the goal; joy was a wonderful thing. However, Poppy hadn’t understood was that it came with a cost. Whether aware of it or not. A cupcake couldn’t be made with sugar alone. You needed the flour and other ingredients, otherwise all that would come out of the oven would be a pan of burnt caramel. Sweet in spirit but uneatable.
As a princess her ignorance of this could be considered a mistake, but now as queen it was her duty to know this and do the best by her people. Keep the happiness, but remember that this peace was something that needed to be protected. Something to be fought for.
A good queen needed to remember that. Needed to understand that.
Her dad understood that. He had fought for their escape from the troll tree. Knowing that only true happiness and peace would come to their people away from the Bergens. Poppy smiled sadly too herself, such a great legacy she had inherited. The following act to not only a great king, but a true hero. Yes, she had managed to make peace with the Bergens, the treaty between their peoples resting in the library archives written in wet ink. Still, some part of Poppy felt unsteady. She loved her role, and her people, but peace it felt more fragile than ever.
Poppy bit her lip, shaking her head. She brushed off those heavy feelings. Not as harshly as she used too, but she didn’t feel like dealing with mental storm clouds right now. The queen would deal with them later, right now, she’d watch the children laugh and play. To remind herself why everything mattered.
“We’re here!”
A genuine smile slipped onto Poppy’s face, eyes lighting up with excitement at the voice of her captain. Branch leaped down from the low hanging tree limbs, bouncing down thick fuzzy leaves with recovered gracefulness. The mossy trolling in his arms cheering as they swooped. The dull blue troll might still be scarred from his wounds, the eye patch now a familiar addition to his pretty face, but it was comforting to see him tree climbing and hopping like he used to do before the injury.
Keith waved hello to Poppy and Guy before quickly running off to play with the other children. His signature blank smile on his face. Though, Poppy now understood that meant the trolling was overjoyed.
The captain sighed, armor shifting as he sat next to the queen and glitter troll, “Sorry, I’m late, someone didn’t put the equipment away like they were supposed to,” Branch grumbled.
“What poor sapling invited your wrath this time?” Guy Diamond asked, eager for gossip.
“Lemongrass. She somehow managed to do the clean-up routine backwards.”
“Oooo…Should I be concerned?” Poppy chimed in with a wince, knowing how peeved the dulled troll could get if his organization systems were ignored.
Her knight was rather particular. Always having a plan in his head, and sometimes on paper. Always organized, hardworking, and definitely frustrated if people weren’t taking something as seriously they needed too. Being one of headers of the whole Forest Guard project, Poppy had seen first-hand Branch properly flip out on someone. Goodness those Bergen rants from their childhoods had nothing on his actual levels of righteous fury. Give this troll an actual reason to be mad at you and you would regret it. They had hired a craftsman to produce safety ropes for the climbing courses and there had been some miscommunication about what they needed from the ropes. Branch had requested them to be weaved of a very particular material and…
The instructions were not followed.
The ropes snapped…not with trolls on them thankfully.
Branch lost it on the craftsmen and no one was mad at him for it.
They were all too stunned to speak. The rant had been direct, burning and surprisingly informative about the properties of different vine materials and how it didn’t matter how good military equipment looked if it was killing people!
A new craftsman was selected for the task.
“Don’t worry I didn’t make her cry and she still had her soul when I was done,” Branch claimed, “But I made my point very clear.”
“No wonder you’re dimmer,” Guy muttered.
Branch pulled off his gauntlet and stared at the back of his hand. Not quite grey, but still a desaturated hue of teal-ish blue. He shrugged before pulling the armor piece back in its place. Seemingly unbothered by the constant shifting of his colors.
Poppy however, tried not to flinch at the uninterested reaction. Even after regaining his true colors, Branch’s blue remained inconsistent, shifting from lighter to darker hues depending on his emotions. None of the doctors in the village could explain it. Nor the historians either. Branch himself didn’t mind; he hadn’t really bothered with his colors in years.
For Poppy however, it bothered her. Not that there was anything wrong with Branch, no she wouldn’t fall into that pit trap again. Branch was perfectly happy with himself. She didn’t need to change him; he was just like everyone else. No, what about his colors that bothered her was similar to that of the scar. He shouldn’t have to be like this. If people, if she as princess had just listened earlier, maybe they could’ve helped sooner and Branch wouldn’t be like this in the first place.
“Sorry for missing the Council meeting this morning,” Branch said.
Poppy scoffed brushing her captain’s concerns off, “Don’t worry about, it was just a check in anyway. No big decisions. You didn’t miss much.”
“I’m the head of the kingdom’s security, as much as it pains me to admit, I’m still equal part politician as I am knight. It’s my duty to be there. So, your majesty I will still be apologizing.”
Poppy met his up turned chin, with a teasing serious expression of her own, adopting an overly fancy voice she spoke, “Captain Branch Meadowlark of Troll Village, as your Queen I decree that your duty bound tushy is exempt from meetings if it means you actually doing your job, rather than just glaring at our fellow council member’s dramatics from underneath your mask like their existence personally insults you.”
Branch snorted at her dramatics and leaned back leisurely, “Sometimes they do.”
The content expression on his face making the queen’s stomach warm and bubble. A desire to see that exact expression swelling up in Poppy’s brain. Only a few moments after he arrived and she was already feeling so safe. He was so good at his job. Some part of her wanted to voice her worries regarding everything, but Poppy bit her tongue.
Poppy should leave her Queenly worries to herself. Branch already had to deal with so much. Protecting everyone in the village and only recently been given the credit and respect he deserved.
“How you feeling Guy?” Branch asked.
“Oh, perfectly fine, Branch,” Guy answered before going into this cheerful rant about how wonderful fatherhood was suiting him, and he would’ve done it sooner if Branch had mentioned how amazing it was to raise a little one.
“You won’t be so happy with it once the honeymood stage is over and the crippling anxiety kicks in,” Branch spoke, “Everyday is like a school exam you didn’t study for and you just hope you’re doing right by them.”
“Somehow I find myself doubting that, Tiny is nothing but a blessing.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“And I’ll ignore your warning…just like old times.”
“Ouch, Guy at least kiss the jab before you shank me.”
“Sorry, Branch, but you’re not my type.”
Poppy chuckled at the banter. Once given a chance, Branch and Guy actually became fast friends, despite not having much in common. Guy was flamboyant, while Branch was mellow, but they both had similar tastes in sass. That, and the fact that other than DJ, they were the only ones who had kids in the Snack Pack.
Tiny had been a surprise, even for Guy. Glitter trolls on average had very speedy pregnancies, a couple weeks at most, but Guy had straight up zero symptoms and it caught everyone off guard. One minute everyone was having lunch at Smidge’s place, the next half of Poppy’s friends were running for a doctor while Guy delivered on the dinning room floor. Branch being the one to coach the glitter troll through the process.
They would look back and laugh at the memory one day, Poppy knew it, but it was a lot at the time.
She leaned back in the grass, a singular bloom overhead to shade her face from the hot sun. Content in this…
“POPPY! HELP!”
…Very short moment.
Both Queen and Captain shot to their feet almost simultaneously. Branch’s stance more defensive in nature due to reflex, but both were turned towards the shout with alert wide stares. The crowd took notice as well and like the swells in the swimming lake during rainy season, clumps of trolls were sloshing from side to side in order to avoid the large blue troll on a panicked rampage. Biggie was darting around screaming and shouting his head off as a ball of dull ivory fluff chased him.
“Biggie hold on!” Poppy yelled as she ran forward.
“Guy get the kids out of the way!” Branch called back before joining her.
Biggie did another lap around the village square and the queen reached out with her hair just as big blue troll dashed passed her. Hot pink strands looped around the offending fluff ball and Poppy was incredibly proud of her first try timing. She had been trying to learn how to lasso for weeks now!
“Got it!” The Queen exclaimed, though her smile quickly vanished once the beast began to squirm, “Oh! Sugar! It’s stuck in my hair! Get it out! Get it out!”
“Hold on,” Her Captain cried, leaping over her head and plucking up the thing tangling and twisting her hair.
Heaving breath from her surprise, Poppy turned to find the armored troll gently pinning the fuzz ball on the ground. The queen watched, marveling as Branch soothed the creature expertly, keeping it in place but not actually harming it. Keith trotted up to her leg, no fear in his blank expression, only a mild gleam of curiosity. Unlike the rest of the crowd who were voicing their startlement with various exclamations of shock and disgust.
“What is it?” Tiny asked, leaning forwards in his father’s grasp.
Poppy creeped closer, keeping the mossy trolling only slightly behind her when he tried to jump a head of her. The beast was rather small now that it was seen clearly. A teeny puff ball of pale ashy hue. A collection of slobbery fangs rested behind thick black lips and eyes red like it had been in front of a campfire for too long stared blankly into space.
“A fruit bat?” Keith voiced.
Branch hummed, gently inspecting his catch, “It’s similar, but not like the ones we have here. Whatever it is its definitely not native.”
“Then what it is doing here?” Biggie squeaked.
Keith hummed, “Could be just got lost from its flock, or a change in migration patterns we weren’t aware of.”
“While good theories Grub, I don’t think that’s what going on,” Branch interjected, “Given that this was attached to its leg.”
The knight twisted, turning towards his queen with what looked like an envelope in his grasp. Surprised and now curious, Poppy stared intently at the letter once it was held in her finger tips. She knew what it instantly, an invitation. From her experience of sending out her own invites it wasn’t hard to tell the difference. Only her name on the cover, title and all, surprisingly. Though, Poppy had never really seen the material the envelope was composed of. Rough and dull in hue, not exactly eye-catching like she would design an invite. It did have some cute little – what Poppy could only guess as – flame and skull patches sewn on it, however.
“It’s alright everyone,” Poppy exclaimed, flashing a smile and wanting to calm the crowd, “Looks like it’s just an invitation.”
“An invite?” Guy asked now interested.
“From who?” Smidge called trotting up, having arrived to the scene late with a few extra guards.
“Let’s find out,” Poppy shrugged, carefully opening the invite and clearing her throat, “‘Dear Queen Poppy of the Pop Trolls, you are invited on the behave of the Rock Tribe to the biggest concert bash of the century. Bring your string and be ready for your music to be utterly destroyed. Signed, Queen Barb of the Rock Trolls.’ Queen Barb?”
“Rock trolls?” Branch raised a brow, looking over Poppy’s shoulder at the invite, “What does that mean?”
“IT’S NOTHING!”
Dad’s scream caught everyone off guard, queen, captain, and citizens all leaping at least two troll-lengths into the air with shouts of their own.
“Where did he come from?” Keith asked, now clutched in his brother’s arms after the elder troll grabbed him when startled.
No adult could answer the trolling. Even if it was a good question, while her father was rather spry for his age, Dad could never be described as sneaky. No everyone was too gob smacked to even attempt to speak as the former king ripped the invite out of Poppy’s hands, ranting and raving about how nothing is the matter and everyone should just forget about the letter or its contents. However, the shock melted off the young queen quickly when she saw the expression on her father’s face.
Dad had that look in his eye again, much to Poppy disappointment. The same look he had when she confronted him about the lies regarding the great escape. Panicked and cornered but also so very guilty. It had been a long and exhausting night. Dad sheepishly admitting that, yes, the Escape was as much a tragedy as it was a victory, and they had hid the truth from the younger trolls.
“We thought we were free,” Dad had explained, “We didn’t want to weigh you down with our pain. So, we hid it away. I’m starting to doubt if it was the best choice, but hiding was all we knew.”
Poppy still wasn’t sure what to make of that conversation. She loved her father; he was still her only family and she could forgive him for anything. However, some part of her still remained a little suspicious as much as she hated to admit it. Her father was such a great king, and she could only hope to live up to him, she just wished she knew how to do so without all the secrets.
“Dad?” Poppy said, with a tone so serious that made the older troll freeze in his panic, “What is going on?”
Dad started to shift on his feet, not looking the queen in the eye, “Well…”
“The truth, Dad,” Poppy crossed her arms.
The elder troll sighed, “I’d hoped this day would never come, but I guess you deserve to know. The truth is…we are not alone in this world. There are other Troll Tribes.”
Branch was familiar with frustration.
After living twenty years as the village crazy person, the emotion greeted him like an old friend. Not that Branch was please to feel it again, since it meant that once again, it seemed as if someone hadn’t been listening to him.
“It’s beautiful,” Poppy spoke in awe and Branch hated that he found agreement with that statement.
The Pop Music String was a stunning sight. A thread of melodious power wrapped in glittering mural of rosy hues. It felt alive in some way. Humming and singing, but not out loud. Like something else in Branch’s very being was attuned to it. Pulsing and rippling with everything and nothing at once. Even the place it was kept seemed to add to it. The rushing ribbon falls, silver and fresh, added to the spectacle of the ancient relic both visually and musically. Something about the way the water drops hit the rocks lining the falls, it made Branch think of tapping feet on a dance floor. While the whooshing of the ribbon water itself felt like the gasps of a singer’s breath.
Still, while the sight itself was grand, almost hypnotic, Branch didn’t let himself get lost in the wonder. No, he listened closely the story that his former king told. Taking in every word and peeling it down to the pit like a peach. It was rare for Peppy to spill his secrets, and the old troll almost never repeated himself.
“During the Beginning there was silence,” Peppy started, opening a very old scrapbook, “Then someone made a sound, and from that triumphant discovery music was born. A gift to spread joy and light to all troll-kind, with many genres, each with their own sounds and styles, popping up throughout the centuries. Using music, the first trolls gathered all the main tribes together into a great utopia! Eventually this time would one day be known as the Age of Harmony.”
“A giant troll utopia?” Poppy asked, Cooper leaning over her shoulder and staring intently at the book in his father’s possession, “Like a bunch of villages put together?”
Peppy nodded, “Not just a few more villages, Poppy. It was an empire, spanning forests, valleys and mountain ranges. And in order to protect that empire, the troll tribes forged six strings. One for each of the main tribes; Funk, Country, Techo, Classical, Rock, and Pop. The strings were meant to hold and represent their music itself. To keep it alive long after the ancestors’ time. It was our people’s golden age.”
A stone settled in Branch’s stomach and he was almost scared to ask. Guessing he already knew the answer, but there was usually a reason that empires didn’t last.
“So, what happened?” The captain almost muttered.
Peppy looked startled, “Pardon?”
The knight resisted rolling his eyes at the former king. Why couldn’t this man properly finish a story with a bad ending?
“What happened?” Branch crossed his arms, putting on a flat look, “You just said it was a grand empire, that used magical strings to protect it. Given we are currently a small village with maybe 200 residents in the middle of the forest with only one string, I’m guessing that something must have happened otherwise we would still be living in that empire. So?”
The former king sighed, before reluctantly speaking, “Over time, the different tribes grew intolerant if each other’s music and began fighting over what the strings would play. The disharmony was harming the utopia itself, so each leader took a string and the tribes went separate ways.”
“But that doesn’t…” Keith mumbled; the words so quiet Branch would’ve missed them if the trolling wasn’t standing right next to him. A complicated look rested in those warped blue eyes.
The captain almost asked the trolling what he was thinking, but the Queen’s tongue was quicker.
“Now the invite makes sense!” Poppy exclaimed, a smile coming to her lips, “Queen Barb wants to unite the troll world again!”
“Wait what?” Branch asked turning to his queen.
Poppy snorted at his confused face, “Well, it’s pretty obvious don’t you think? It’s a party invite! What better way to start a new era of peace and harmony than with a party with all the new troll tribe leaders?”
Branch bit his lip, “Can I offer a counter opinion, your majesty?”
“Uh, I guess.”
“I’m not so sure if Queen Barb, all due respect to her name, has peace in mind. We’re assuming a lot based on very vague invite, from a person who we know have bad blood with. What if this is a set up for a trap?”
Poppy scoffed, “Branch you are also making assumptions, based on a very vague invite.”
“With historical back up!” Branch interjected, “Former King Peppy, just said that it was infighting over the strings that stopped the tribes from getting along.”
“Just because our ancestors couldn’t see that were still the same even with different music doesn’t mean we can’t now. At the end of the day, we’re all trolls.”
“Then why ask for our string? If Queen Barb wanted peace, why would she ask us to bring our most prized relic to a meeting at her kingdom?” Branch raised a brow, “She could hold a diplomatic meeting without it. That’s suspicious.”
“As a show of unity and good faith,” Poppy chirped like it was obvious, “It was the strings all together that symbolized troll unity before, us bring them together could be used to show we’re fixing things now.”
“That’s a reach,” Branch snapped.
Poppy shook her head, “You are too suspicious sometimes.”
“And you’re not asking enough questions, we didn’t even know about the other tribes until today and you,” Branch paused, suddenly glaring towards his former king, “Actually? Why didn’t we know this before today?”
Peppy froze, amber eyes looking away from the glare, “Uhm,” he cleared his throat, “What?”
“The strings, the other tribes, this whole period of history that isn’t in any school curriculum,” Branch leaned forwards with his hands on his hips, “Why weren’t we told? I mean on some level I get not wanting to make the public panic over what could be nothing, but me? Your kids? Your Madonna blessed heir? Why didn’t we know about this? Does the council even know?”
Peppy shuffled where he stood, “Well, no…This has been a secret kept close by the royal family for generations.”
“Then why didn’t Poppy know? Or me?” Cooper asked, suddenly reminding everyone of his presence.
The Former King at least had the respect to look guilty at his son’s plea, Peppy sighed, “I was going to tell your sister on the night of her coronation, but I never got the chance. It-it was too busy. It wasn’t the right time.”
“This is why I’m so different isn’t it?” Cooper asked, “I’m-I’m not one of you, am I?”
Peppy hesitantly nodded, his next words spoken with regret, like a confession of a sin, “I’m afraid so son. You are not of our tribe, not by blood.”
Poppy gasped softly, running over to hug her brother with all her might, “Cooper,” She soothed, “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter that your different. You are always going to be my brother, and have a place here.”
“Your sister is right, Cooper. It doesn’t matter what you are or how you came to us, you are our family,” Peppy said joining the hug.
Cooper looked uncertain of something for a moment, but quickly embraced the family hug. While the scene was sweet, Branch was more interested with the aged scrapbook. He had never seen this one in the library, not that he was surprised, a lot of the really old stuff was kept under lock and key. Surprisingly. Keith was at his side staring intently, though Branch caught the feeling his little brother was searching for something else.
There was a troll depicted in the book that looked like Cooper. Enough confirmation that Branch was convinced. The book didn’t name the tribe the Cooper-like troll was from, but Branch didn’t care about that right now. He was just swamped with so many thoughts. They were all so different. Sure, there was one tribe that looked similar to pop, like a gloomier version of pop, but that was about it. Curiosity and caution were swimming through Branch’s boiling thoughts and when Peppy insisted that the string was hidden again, he wasn’t sure what to think.
It wasn’t until he and Keith were on their way home, was Branch pulled out of his funk by a very flat, but contemplative voice.
“It didn’t make sense,” Keith spoke suddenly.
Branch hummed, quickly looking towards the trolling, “What, Grub?”
“The story, Former King Peppy told us. It didn’t make sense.”
The captain’s brows furrowed in confusion and intrigue, “What do you mean?”
“Years of prosperity and it all ends in a single fight?” Keith asked, “Empires don’t fall like that. How could they all agree to leave if they were all fighting?”
Branch could argue that a lot of things could be ended in a single bad fight, but the second question Keith posed made him paused. Now that he thought about it, there were a lot of inconsistencies with that story. The scrapbook suspiciously short for a seemingly major event in history. Not even names for the trolls involved.
Some part of the dulled blue troll wanted to write it off as unimportant, details being lost to time, but something about it kept nagging at him.
“I’m guess you heard what happened today?” Branch asked his second.
The room around them was calm, walls dressed in green and brown. Simply, decorated with weapon racks and office necessities. Branch had been skeptical of a personal office on the Redwood Arena’s grounds, but he was glad Poppy insisted now. Made having secret meetings out of little ears reach much easier.
“Who a hasn’t?” Smidge shrugged, from her seat across his desk, “Gossip spreads quickly these days. And the Tea today was hot.”
“What do you think about it?”
Smidge waved it off, “Doesn’t really affect me personally. So, what if there are other trolls out there. My work and life are here.”
“And what if Poppy wanted to see them against recommendation?” Branch leaned back in his office’s chair.
Smidge snorted, “Please, she’s probably sneaking out right now. No one stops Poppy from making a new friend.”
Branch sighed, “I was afraid you’d say that.”
The captain stood up suddenly pulling out paper and a pen from a nearby drawer. Sooner the sound of his scribbling filled the otherwise quiet room. Branch took a glance at the window on the right back wall, seeing that twilight had well set in by this point. He didn’t have much time.
“What’cha doing?” Smidge asked.
“Setting up contingencies. We know better than to stop the Queen. No one can. If she’s going to do this, I can’t let her do it without back up.”
“Sweet road trip!” Smidge hopped out of her chair, “I’ll get packing.”
“No, Smidge, you need to stay here. With me and Poppy gone someone has to look out for the village. The council can handle everyday matters, but they’ll need someone who knows the Guard to run security while I’m gone. Can I trust you?”
The teaspoon troll smiled proudly, saluting her superior, “Anything you need captain.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Branch paused, “Also, I’m going to need you to keep an eye on Keith. Usually I’d ask DJ, Biggie or Cooper. But one is out of town, Biggie traumatized by the whole incident with the bat, and Cooper…Cooper’s got a lot on his plate right now.”
“No problem boss, just make sure you all come home safe.”