“Brave heroes of the Thousand Swords!” His voice rang out into the balmy morning. “Well, let us say brave men of the Thousand Swords, at least. Let us say men, anyway!” Scattered laughter, a whoop of approval. “My boys, you all know my stamp! Some of you have fought beside me… or at any rate in front.” More laughter. “The rest of you know my… spotless reputation.” And more yet. “You all know that I, above all, am one of you. A soldier, yes! A fighter, of course! But one who would much prefer to sheathe his weapon.” And he gave a gentle cough as he adjusted his groin. “Than draw his blade!” And he slapped the hilt of his sword to widespread merriment.

“Let it never be said that we are not masters and journeymen of the glorious profession of arms! As much so as any lapdog at some noble’s boots! Men strong of sinew!” And he slapped Sesaria’s great arm. “Men sharp of wits!” And he pointed at Andiche’s greasy head. “Men hungry for glory!” He jerked his thumb towards Victus. “Let it never be said we will not brave risks for our rewards! But let the risks be kept as lean as possible, and the rewards most hearty!” Another swell of approval.

“Your employer, the young Prince Foscar, was keen that you carry the lower ford and meet the enemy head on in pitched battle…” Nervous silence. “But I declined! Though you are paid to fight, I told him, you are far keener on the pay than the fighting!” A rousing cheer. “We’ll wet our boots higher up, therefore, and with considerably lighter opposition! And whatever occurs today, however things may seem, you may always depend upon it that I have your… best interests closest to my own heart!” And he rubbed his fingers against his thumb to an even louder cheer.

“I will not insult you by calling for courage, for steadfastness, for loyalty and honour! All these things I already know you possess in the highest degree!” Widespread laughter. “So to your units, officers of the Thousand Swords, and await my order! May Mistress Luck be always at your side and mine! She is drawn, after all, to those who least deserve her! May darkness find us victorious! Uninjured! And above all—rich!”

There was a rousing cheer. Shields and weapons, mailed and plated arms, gauntleted fists shaken in the air.

“Cosca!”

“Nicomo Cosca!”

“The captain general!”

He hopped smiling down from his barrel as the officers began to disperse, Sesaria and Victus going with them to make their regiments—or their gangs of opportunists, criminals and thugs—ready for action. Cosca strolled away towards the brow of the hill, the beautiful valley opening out before him, shreds of misty cloud clinging to the hollows in its sides. Ospria looked proudly down on all from her mountain, fairer than ever by daylight, all cream-coloured stone banded with blue-black stripes of masonry, roofs of copper turned pale green by the years or, on a few buildings recently repaired, shining brilliantly in the morning glare.