Galin woke that morning to find himself sprawled facedown on the ground. Though his head was still a little muddled, he clearly remembered being buried beneath burly men the night before.
Rowan's two attack dogs had actually barged into his tent without a shred of fear and beaten him up.
Galin shakily got to his feet and found a chair. Before his backside even touched the seat, a savage burst of pain nearly made him lose control of his bowels.
"Guards! Guards!" Galin roared at the top of his lungs, seething with anger.
"Your Highness?" The guards outside swiftly entered the tent.
Remembering last night's humiliation, Galin took his anger out on his guards. "Tell me, where the hell were you lot last night?"
The guards exchanged looks and answered in unison, "We were patrolling the perimeter all night, Your Highness."
Fucking bullshit! Your prince was nearly beaten to death, and you didn't hear a thing?
"Did something happen last night, Your Highness?" the tall, thin guard captain asked.
Galin pointed at the captain's nose, ready to unleash a stream of abuse. But for the sake of his dignity, he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.
"Nothing. Prepare a carriage for me. I'm going to the front." Galin waved a hand, deciding to lodge a complaint.
After all, he had little backing and no real standing among the Allied Forces. He could only ask Arthas to stand up for him.
Captain Lem scratched his head. "Your Highness, your warhorse is right outside."
The corners of Galin's mouth twitched with anger. If I could ride a horse, would I need a carriage meant for women?
"Just do as you're told. Why do you have so much to say?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Lem spent half an hour finding Galin