But Sekarrow shook her head. ‘There is necessity in hunger, of which we do not speak here, castellan. Nothing of hunter or prey, at least not in the simplest sense of their meaning. Instead, we take such natural inclinations and twist them into our more civil state of being. The enemy to our way of thinking becomes the prey, assuming it is too weak to claim any other title, and we the hunter. But such words themselves, “hunter” and “prey”, seek a kind of synonymy with nature, when the reality is in fact one of murder.’ She brushed at her uniform’s leather shoulder-guards. ‘Murder is then obscured behind a cascade of words intended to deflect that brutal truth. War, soldiers, battles – the mere vocabulary of our existence, as commonplace as breathing, or eating and drinking. And, of course, as necessary.’ She twisted a peg and then strummed the strings, making a discordant clash of notes. ‘Uniforms, training, discipline. Honour, duty, courage. Principles, integrity, revenge. To obscure is to empower the lie.’

‘And what lie might that be?’ Horult demanded.

‘Why, that being a soldier excuses us from the murder we commit. Have you ever wondered, dear brother, what lies at the heart of the Legion’s demand for justice?’

‘Avarice.’

Her brows lifted once more. She turned another peg, strummed again, yielding if anything a more jarring sound. ‘Castellan?’

Rancept shrugged. ‘As your brother suggests. Land, wealth.’

‘To compensate their sacrifice, yes?’

Both men nodded.

‘But… what sacrifice do they mean?’

Horult threw up his hands. ‘Why, the one they made, of course!’

‘And that is?’

Her brother scowled.

‘Castellan?’

Rancept scratched at his misshapen nose, felt wetness on his fingers and reached for his handkerchief. ‘The fighting. The killing. The fallen comrades.’

‘Then one must ask at some point, I should think: what compensation should a civil state give to those who murdered in its name?’

‘There was more to it than that,’ Horult objected. ‘They were saving the lives of loved ones, of innocents. They were standing between the helpless and those who wished them harm.’

‘And does this act require compensation? More to the point, is not that act, of defence of the weak and the helpless, something that should be expected of every able adult? Indeed, are we not describing something we share with every beast and creature of this world? Will not a mother bear defend her cubs? Will not soldier ants die defending their nest and queen?’

‘Then, by your very words, sister, war is indeed natural!’

‘When was the last time you saw thousands of worker ants line a parade of their victorious soldiers? Or the queen emerge from the bowels of her nest to drape medals and honours upon her brave subjects?’

‘Even there,’ Horult said, stabbing at her with a finger, ‘you trap yourself. Some are born weak and helpless, but others are born to be soldiers. Each finds a place in every society.’