Chapter 13-Kingdom Lines

Odett’s POV

  The next afternoon, our instructor gave the fifth-years a winter shortage to solve. Three small communities had been cut off by a storm, and the surrounding territories held enough food and medicine to help them. We had to find a way to share it before the roads closed.

  Joshy’s map showed a road through the western forest. Mine warned that its bridges would not hold the supply trucks. Nolan’s group knew the temperature would fall before night, but none of us understood that the others had different reports until we began arguing.

  “Why would you give us different information?” I asked with a frustrated frown as I compared Joshy’s map to mine.

  “Because leaders never receive the same report at the same time,” the instructor answered calmly while walking between the tables.

  “Are you defending separate answers or putting your information together?” she asked.

  Nolan’s team argued over which report was newer. Barrett wanted wolves to move everything overland; Cassian knew the vampire tunnels would stay open after the exposed paths froze. The instructor made us exchange maps and asked what the stranded families would do while we defended our separate answers.

  “The tunnels cannot carry the larger trucks,” Barrett argued with an impatient expression as he pointed at Cassian’s map.

  “The larger trucks cannot cross the western bridges,” I reminded him firmly while turning my map toward him.

  “Controlling distribution will not matter if the food ends up at the bottom of a river,” I continued.

  Joshy placed our maps together and studied where the roads and tunnels crossed.

  “We need both routes,” he said with a thoughtful expression.

  “The western road can carry messengers, while the tunnels carry medicine and smaller supplies,” he continued carefully.

  Nolan moved his weather report beside the maps.

  “The heavier trucks still need a way across before the temperature drops,” he added with a concerned frown.

  “The witches can reinforce one bridge long enough for the trucks to cross,” Cassian suggested carefully as he examined the magical-resource list.

  ‘This sounds familiar,’ Lorilie said with quiet amusement inside my mind.

  It did. The exercise resembled the reports in Dad’s office: each group held a useful piece and mistook it for the whole story. The difference was that the communities on our classroom maps were imaginary. I thought of the families still waiting for word from the north.

  Joshy and I separated medicine from the heavier food crates. Nolan checked how long each route would stay open, Cassian identified what could pass through the tunnels, and the witches offered to hold a bridge steady while the trucks crossed. The plan worked only because everyone gave up control of one part of it.

  “That is unrealistic,” Barrett complained with a dissatisfied expression after the instructor approved our route.

  “So is expecting wolves to solve every problem alone,” Cassian replied.

  “Enough,” the instructor warned with a stern look before Barrett could answer.

  “The purpose of this exercise was not to prove which species was most useful,” she explained.

  “It was to recognize that incomplete information creates incomplete decisions,” she continued pointedly.

  Our plan earned the highest score, along with an assignment to explain where each of us had been wrong at the start. Barrett protested the writing until Nolan asked Cassian to show him why the tunnels could not take a truck. I heard no apology, but they stayed at the same table after class.

  “That went better than it would have during our first year,” Joshy said with an amused smile as we walked toward our next class.

  “During our first year, Nolan would have ordered everyone to follow his map,” I replied with a quiet laugh.

  “During our first year, you would have hit him with yours,” Joshy reminded me teasingly.

  “I was younger then,” I said with false innocence as I adjusted the books in my arms.

  ‘You would still hit him with it,’ Lorilie accused with a pleased huff.

  ‘Only if he deserved it,’ I answered silently while hiding my smile.

  That evening, Joshy and I went back to the small table in Dad’s office. The copied reports still carried his instruction to compare delays and nothing else. I obeyed, but the lesson had changed the question I asked of each delay.

  One messenger had waited three days for an Alpha King’s permission. I had blamed the ruler when I first saw the record. This time I noticed the warning had reached him only an hour before he approved passage; the earlier requests had not been allowed to explain what the messenger carried.

  I added another column to the investigation timeline and labeled it Information available at the time of the decision.

  Joshy read the heading twice before looking at me.

  “Dad only asked us to compare delays,” he warned with a cautious expression.

  “A delay looks different when the person causing it does not know an attack happened,” I explained as I placed the messenger’s request beside the warning notice.

  “Are you defending the Alpha Kings now?” Joshy asked with a doubtful frown.

  “No,” I answered firmly.

  “I want to know which delays came from caution and which came from pride,” I continued.

  “We cannot tell if we only record the number of days,” I added while pointing toward the timeline.

  Joshy checked the other entries. In one territory, the ruler had ignored a clear warning for two days. In another, permission came quickly but never reached the guard at the eastern checkpoint. The families lost time either way, but knowing why would help Dad decide whom to call.

  “This one was not the Alpha King’s decision,” Joshy said with growing interest as he marked the missing communication.

  “The approval never reached the eastern checkpoint,” he added.

  “That still makes the territory responsible for the delay,” I replied thoughtfully.

  “It just changes what caused it,” I clarified with careful emphasis.

  Dad came in as I explained the new column. He read the heading, then the messenger’s request, and pulled out a chair instead of closing the folder. I watched his face while he checked the other routes.

  “Keep it,” Dad decided with a serious expression.

  “A mistake made without information is different from a decision made after someone receives a warning,” he explained.

  Dad’s approval warmed me more than the instructor’s score had. He had given us a real question to answer, and we had found something his team could use. I tried to hide my smile, but Lorilie caught it before Dad did.

  ‘You failed,’ Lorilie said.

  Dad saw my expression too, but he only moved the next stack closer. The additional reports contained more border requests, messenger logs, and confirmation times. None included witness statements or evidence from the attack sites, and Dad checked that restriction before he allowed us to continue.