Vagan lowered his crest and eye ridges; slowly, he placed one foot in front of the other and advanced upon the line. “You seem to think that this is a game, do you not? I fear that you are sadly mistaken. If it is a game that you want, we will play. You will be the ball and I shall have the fun of kicking your pathetic ass over this parade ground. Do you comprehend, my friend?”

            The private, to his credit, did not piss his pants and bolt. He stood up straight and made eye contact. “I don’t see why we have to take orders from a giant bird.” He looked around the line and found, to his dismay, no one would meet his eyes. They were all facing forward, at attention.

            Vagan allowed himself a rare smile. “If you are looking for supporters, I think you shall find none. I outrank you, private, whether we are of the same species or not.” The Vahazayan General stopped several feet from the line and looked down. “Look at me, soldier.”

            The private blinked and craned his neck up as far as he could—but as close as Vagan was, it was impossible to do so without stepping backwards.

            “I—I can’t.”

            Vagan’s head dropped and the private’s vision was filled with an onyx beak, as large as his own head. “When you address me, it is as ‘Sir’, ‘General’, or ‘General Vershandi’fay’, understood. Say it, private.”

            The soldier gulped and trembled, the tremors growing each time the beak opened and closed in front of him, affording him a glimpse of Vagan’s mouth and forked tongue. The words he spoke were accented, of course, but perfect English flowed from a very mobile beak. “I cannot hear you, private.”

            “Sir, yes, sir.”

            “Good.” Vagan stood and with a flick of his plumed tail, walked back to where he’d been standing. “Now, dismissed, troops.”