Sir General Wexel's gaze drifted across the battlefield. He liked to do that, which is why his squires placed the command tent just feet from the cliffside overlooking it. Scout reports had warned Wexel of the size of the enemy force, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Down the cliffside, across a narrow river, camped his sworn enemy, Admiral Tuxer. With him were twenty-five thousand Armenstine Empire dogs. Sixteen platoons, four calvaries, six trebuchets, and if the reports were accurate, an inbound Whale-song. Although he had yet to see it. Wexel had won unwinnable odds before, but this was just wishful thinking. It's what I get for making a hero of myself, He thought. Unannounced visits from his majesty with pleas for unwinnable wars. I deserve this.

Admiral Tuxer had thoroughly outmaneuvered him this time. He stood, gazing, arms crossed, looking for holes. It was a long while before he was interrupted.

"General Wexel Sir," a strained voice. The men were feeling it too. Doom.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Ranks are formed and I have news of the scouts you sent earlier."

"Good or bad?"

"Bad, sir." the sergeant said after some hesitation. Wexel huffed. "They were spotted by a Seagull formation on approach." Wexel didn't reply. He let the implication hang. They all soon would. Doom.

Any news from Vextrimal?" Queen Inshtepha's insectoid reinforcements should have been there days ago. It was looking more and more like she too had abandoned them.

"None, Sir."

Wexel let out a long breath.

"Is there any good news, soldier?" Wexel heard the small creature shuffle behind him.

"No, sir." Wexel finally turned to look at the man. A fox with a bright orange coat. He was shaking slightly. Sergeant Camil was a good soldier, a reliable one. He had campaigned with Wexel for near a decade now. He's afraid? Wexel thought, That's not right.

"Good," Wexel said, eyeing Camil.

"Sorry, Sir. What?"

"I said," Wexel paused "About damn time we had a challenge." He slammed a fisted paw into his breastplate with an aggressive huff. "That blowhard Admiral Tuxer took seven years to chase me down and pin me like this! Seven years to put him right where we want him!" He put on his wildest grin. It was a bluff, but it was time to sell the men. Doom. If they were going to die, allow them to die in a dream of victory. "I'm surprised you haven't picked up on it yet, Camil." He said.

"Sir," Camil paused "Sir. I'm fairly certain we are hopelessly outnumbered, and I am indeed unaware of any plans you may have brewing, Sir."

"That's fantastic!" Roared the bear, breaking out into a forced laugh. "If you don't know my plan, imagine how that old geezer is dealing! He believes he has me hopelessly outmatched and surrounded. Yet, he stays his flipper. Camil, I've routed that overgrown Seal so many times he doesn't dare attack. I'm on the back foot, and he's terrified."

"Sir," Camil wasn't convinced, "The tacticians believe the enemy is just awaiting their Whale-song to arrive before the attack."

"Ah, yes." Wexel knew very well that's what Tuxer was waiting for. "I can't wait to present that beast of a weapon to King Gammon. Surely then, he'll give me leave." Camil's jaw dropped and he began to stammer.

"Sir…. I just… How do you…." The words wouldn’t form. Good, I can use this to start momentum.

"Follow me good Sir Camil, we have a war to win." He marched off past the command tent toward the ranks that had formed. Camil scrambled to catch up.

Wexel and Camil inspected the troops that had gathered. Twenty-five hundred men, good men. Their force may have been a tenth the size of their enemy, but General Wexel knew they had twice the heart. Doom. The men were anxious, spear tips waving instead of straight and ready. Swords drawn, as if expecting an enemy to appear right next to them. Hardly any made eye contact as Wexel and Camil approached. Most kept their eyes locked to the ground. Doom.

After completing a once over on the troops, he took a position at the front, Camil taking a spot just behind him to the side.

"Stone men!" Wexel shouted. Being a bear had perks. Everyone could hear him. Maybe even the enemy army. Better make this speech count. "That's all I see on this battlefield. Most men are cowards. Most men would see the odds and run. Most men would rather be waiting with their families, suckling like a babe. Waiting to be killed!" He paused, picking out a man in the line. A small coyote in worn armor. One of the few who had made eye contact. Wexel pointed, "You, are not most men." He pointed to a Skunk in leathers a few soldiers to the right, "You, are not most men." He opened both of his arms, metal clanking. "I see no cowards before me!" He shouted. All were looking at him now. Doom. "You are stone!" Confused looks and murmurs. "Stones in a wall. The last wall. You are all that stands between your families and," Wexel pointed behind him, at the army encampment across the river "Doom."

There were no cheers. Sir Wexel was fine with that. He did not want to cheer men to their deaths. Good men. Doomed men. But, they did stand straighter. Spear tips stopped quivering, sword arms stopped shaking. A resoluteness overtook them. Eyes full of fear were replaced by eyes filled with hopeful determination.

"Prepare to march within the hour. We must strike before the enemy can reinforce with that laughable toy they call the Whale-song." He turned to Camil, no longer shouting. "Before that, I'm going to give that blubbery bastard one more chance to turn tail." He turned and marched off toward the stables.

*****

Rhinos were a tough lot to control. They had been sold as beasts of burden to the Kingdom some years ago and had proven invaluable to the war effort. They were massive, quadrupedal, and naturally armed. Lacking in capacity, the beasts were damn hard to manage. Wexel always thought it would be easier to teach the dull creatures to charge headfirst into battle compared to rank-and-file beasts. Their natural armor and low intelligence should have given them every advantage in a charge. But the beast's brains ended up working against them, the creature's natural fear overriding all but the most brutal of training. Well-trained rhinos were an incalculable advantage for large mammals like Wexel. While he could fit on a horse, the spindly things couldn't run with him on back. Wexel thought the majestic rhino was the perfect mount for a warrior. Although slower than a horse, but not by much.

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Wexel and a handful of guards charged across the grassy field separating their armies, as the only running you could do on the back of a rhino was charging. A white scrap of cloth billowed in the wind atop a pole mounted to the saddle. A signal for peace. Wexel knew Tuxer. Knew him well enough that it was no surprise when the enemy line split to allow a large black carriage through, drawn by four horses. They were beautiful creatures. Wexel found it ostentatious. Do you need four of the damn things? How large have you let yourself get, Admiral?

It only took a few minutes for the carriage to arrive. Wexel sat atop his rhino in the middle of the river while his guard stood at the bank. The water was shallow, only a few inches deep, with a soft sandy riverbed. The moist air felt good. Wexel had grown up in a small dwelling near a river with his mother and siblings. Wet paws and stream air were a heavenly, nostalgic mix. If only he had a fish to munch on. He hoped Admiral Tuxer found their final meeting less scenic. He hoped the lard suffered in these warm waters. The carriage pulled into the shallow water and made an about turn. Rather than having a door, two crustaceans wearing bandoliers hurried over and unfastened metal latches holding the wall of the carriage in place. This allowed the entire side to swing down on bottom hinges, nearly crushing the bandoliered crabs, and splashing Wexel in river water.

A large mound of gray was visible through the dissipating vapor. The more it cleared, the more hideous the Admiral became. Skin like gray death, covered in lumps of blackheads and body hair. Tuxer was even more wrinkled and oily than the last time they'd met - and bigger. Much bigger. At least double in size from Wexel's account. Admiral Tuxer used his massive, flabby legs to drag himself down the wall, which now served as a ramp. The motion was awkward looking and most suspected from the shambling steps that it was easy to outrun a Walrus. Wexel found through experience that Walrus liked to maintain that impression. Admiral Tuxer descended into the shallow river, standing only a few feet away. He matches my height on Rhinoback now? Fat bastard. Wexel thought. Doom.

"Ah, General Wexel. You've chosen a fabulous place for your last stand." Tuxer snorted, "Now that you've delivered yourself to me, tell me why I shouldn't kill you here and now."

"You're far too much a coward for that, Admiral Tuxer." Wexel's tone was firm, not mocking. "If you had any skin worth saving you'd have already attacked. You have every advantage. No, I'm here to accept your surrender." He said it with such conviction he almost believed it himself. After a pause, Admiral Tuxer grinned madly and began roaring with laughter. It was too loud, forced. As a show to everyone, although spurred on by genuine emotion.

"Wexel, you prideful bastard," Tuxer said through spouts of coughs as his laughter died down. "Look around you, fool." His smile twisted sinister, "You're between a mountain and an army. We outnumber you ten to one. I don't need to fight you,' He paused, tusks glimmering, 'I just need to siege you. My Whale-song will soon arrive and all of your foolhardy plans will evaporate!" He stomped an armored foot into the river, splashing water over both of them. "You can't save that little town this time." He snarled, froth building around his yellow tusks.

"So, you refuse to surrender?" He asked his greatest enemy for the final time. Wexel was going to see this to the end. He would not damn those good men. Admiral Tuxer sneered, blowing froth into the air.

"Never. Never to you, you bastard." He finally managed to say through the rage. Wexel could see it, the murder in his eyes. If he was joking about killing Wexel here before, he had changed his mind now. Wexel saw that as his opportunity. He kicked a boot into the side of his rhino, spurring it forward at a charge. Admiral Tuxer found himself with no time to react through his blinding rage. The rhino rammed into him, horn first, piercing through the lower part of his breastplate into his belly. Wexel didn't allow himself to get excited, he knew the armor was mostly for show. A walrus's true power was in the skin all over its body, blubber. Wexel jumped from the saddle and landed, drawing his blade. He turned to see Admiral Tuxer grab the rhino by the ears as it tried to pull free. It had rammed itself in good. With a quick and violent jolt, the Admiral broke the beast's neck, dropping it to the ground. The leather buckles holding together Tuxer's armor had broken under the strain of wresting a rhino. His breastplate fell in a large heap next to him as he ripped the now useless metal from his body. He turned to face Wexel, rage blazing in his eyes. A gaping hole of white flesh where his belly once was.

Tuxer didn't bother with words, his rage was past that. He bellowed a roar that put the previous laughter to shame. The air crackled and Wexel's head rang from the sound. So mighty! He thought. The Admiral-turned-beast barreled toward him. Tuxer closed the gap faster than any creature his size should. It forced Wexel to jump to the side, clumsily avoiding a grapple. After missing his target, Tuxer smashed into the ground, splashing up another cloud of mist. He rose in that mist, getting his blubbery feet under him as Wexel righted himself. Where is my guard? He thought, desperately searching the bank. He had to dodge out of the way again before he could sight them. Eventually, he found them battling a group of crustaceans nearby. Damnit. Worse than his backup being preoccupied, he noticed the armies had begun charging. Wexel needed to end this quickly, he only had a few minutes before the armies would clash.

Resolved, he roared back at Tuxer as the monster righted itself from its last reckless charge. Tuxer may have believed his armor useless to him, but claws did not pierce metal. They did pierce skin and blubber. Wexel could still tear this tyrant apart. He dropped his sword, an enlightened weapon, and returned to all fours. He kicked off the armored boots so he could feel the shallow water he stood in. The shallow water he would save them in.

They charged each other, Wexel dropping low and to the side at the last moment to avoid a head-on collision. He swiped viciously at the Admiral's exposed belly as he passed, taking a large chunk of gelatinous walrus with him. I can do this. Then Tuxer spun, catching him on the side with a wild punch. It sent Wexel tumbling, the shallow water quickly bringing him to a stop. He groaned, the pain was immense. He struggled to get to his feet, but Tuxer was already there. He launched another fist into the bear's gut, sending him reeling.

"I've waited so long for this, you arrogant prick." the tusked fiend seethed. Doom. Wexel struggled to get up from his heap. The Admiral kicked him over and put a meaty foot on his chest, pinning him to the riverbed. He felt himself sink slightly from the weight. "Your people are so proud of these warm waters." He crouched, putting more weight onto Wexel's chest, sinking him deeper. "I have long dreamed of drowning you in them." Tuxer grabbed Wexel by the throat and shoved. Wexel's snout wasn't long enough and the riverbed was too soft. He sank and water filled his nostrils. The ground below embraced him willingly. It reminded him of home. Emotion welled inside like a building explosion. I will not die here!

Wexel began swiping erratically, unable to see clearly. He must have landed something important because shortly after his assault began, the grasp on his throat loosened. He used the opportunity to shove with his legs, gaining enough leverage to wrench some of Admiral Tuxer's foot from his chest. He gasped for air scrambling away. He didn't have time to right himself and he dared not look. He ran from Tuxer like a madman exposed to light; on all fours with no coordination. Miraculously, Tuxer's grip never came. He managed to get a few paces away before he realized everything had stopped.

The armies had ceased their charge. The guard was standing still, mouths gaped. Finally, his eyes fell on the giant form that was Admiral Tuxer. A long shaft protruded from his mouth like a third tusk, streaked in walrus blood. The body twitched as if daring to move again. Finally, damage won out, muscles relaxed, death collected, and the body crashed into the river causing a wave to ripple through. Camil stood atop the body, donning a small metal cap, spear shaft still in hand.

"That was a horrible plan, sir." The fox saluted and jumped down. Joy and relief rushed through Wexel, a huge smile plastered itself on his face. What about the armies? He thought We're about to be crushed between two forces. The smile left as quickly as it came. He frantically searched for somewhere to hide but Camil calmed him with a touch. "Queen Vextrimal's finest are twenty thousand Antinoids on the opposite side of enemy lines." Wexel's stare went blank while he considered.

"So," he finally spoke, finding the words through battle-shock, "The fat ugly bastard had us that cornered? Couldn't get a scout to us and we're blind." He paused again, heaving as he stood. Two legs again, not an animal.

"Yes, sir. Your horrible plan is actually what did it. Coming in unannounced, white flag waving, put Tuxer's men in a frenzy, allowing an Antinoid scout to slip through." Camil's brow creased, "How did you know, sir?" Wexel walked to Tuxer's body and planted a kick in the side.

"I didn't." Then, he laughed.