“No doubt you’ll wear it with massive pride. You could have a hole cut in all your shirts to display it to the public.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d suspect I was being mocked. You do realise, if things unfold according to my plans—and they have so far, I might observe—you will soon be directing your sarcasm at the King of Styria. I have already, in fact, commissioned my crown, from Zoben Casoum, the world-famous master jeweller of Corontiz—”

“Cast from Gurkish gold, no doubt.”

Rogont paused for a moment, frowning. “The world is not as simple as you think, General Murcatto. A great war rages.”

She snorted. “You think I missed that? These are the Years of Blood.”

He snorted back. “The Years of Blood are only the latest skirmish. This war began long before you or I were born. A struggle between the Gurkish and the Union. Or between the forces that control them, at least, the church of Gurkhul and the banks of the Union. Their battlefields are everywhere, and every man must pick his side. The middle ground contains only corpses. Orso stands with the Union. Orso has the backing of the banks. And so I have my… backers. Every man must kneel to someone.”

“Perhaps you didn’t notice. I’m not a man.”

Rogont’s smile broke out again. “Oh, I noticed. It was the second thing that attracted me to you.”

“The first?”

“You can help me unite Styria.”

“And why should I?”

“A united Styria… she could be as great as the Union, as great as the Empire of Gurkhul. Greater, even! She could free herself from their struggle, and stand alone. Free. We have never been closer! Nicante and Puranti fall over themselves to re-enter my good graces. Affoia never left them. Sotorius is my man, with certain trifling concessions to Sipani, no more than a few islands and the city of Borletta—”

“And what do the citizens of Borletta have to say to it?”

“Whatever I tell them to say. They are a changeable crowd, as you discovered when they scrambled to offer you their beloved Duke Cantain’s head. Muris bowed to Sipani long ago, and Sipani now bows to me, in name at least. The power of Visserine is broken. As for Musselia, Etrea and Caprile, well. You and Orso between you, I suspect, have quite crushed their independent temper out of them.”

“Westport?”

“Details, details. Part of the Union or of Kanta, depending on who you ask. No, it is Talins that concerns us now. Talins is the key in the lock, the hub of the wheel, the missing piece in my majestic jigsaw.”

“You love to listen to your own voice, don’t you?”

“I find it talks a lot of good sense. Orso’s army is scattered, and with it his power is vanished, like smoke on the wind. He has ever resorted first to the sword, as certain others are wont to do, in fact…” He raised his brows significantly at her, and she waved him on. “He finds, now his sword is broken, that he has no friends to sustain him. But it will not be enough to destroy Orso. I need someone to replace him, someone to guide the troublesome citizens of Talins into my gracious fold.”