“That is exactly correct,” Octavian replied. “Are the men and women the vord have already killed only partially dead? Are they only technically dead? Only legally dead? Can a compromise be made wherein they are given back some portion of their lives?” He shook his head. “No. No compromise. My duty to them, and to those still alive, demands nothing less than everything I can give them. Yes, old soldier, my standards are high. So are the stakes. They’re a matched set.”

Fidelias stared at him, then shook his head slowly. Gaius Sextus had held an air of absolute authority, of personal power that arrested one’s sense of reason, at times, to extract support and obedience. Gaius Septimus had been a vibrant figure, driven and intelligent, always looking to the future. He could have inspired men to follow him down any path of reason, no matter how winding.

But Octavian... men would follow Octavian into a leviathan’s gullet if he asked it of them. And crows take him if Fidelias himself wouldn’t be one of them. The headstrong lunatic would probably discover some way to lead them all out the other side draped in the rings and crowns of a devoured treasure ship and somehow emerge clean.

“I couldn’t lead the Legions and the Canim,” Fidelias said quietly. “Not alone. But... if you made your will known to Varg, then Valiar Marcus could serve as Crassus’s advisor, his huntmaster. Varg would give him the chance to stand on his own merits in that case. And I would direct him as best I could.”

“You know the Canim,” Octavian said. “Better than anyone else I have.” His eyes glinted. “You’ve spent time with Sha, I think.”

“I’ve met the Cane,” Fidelias said calmly. “He seems most professional.”

“And have you ever met Khral?”

“I do not believe my duties as First Spear ever brought me into contact with him, my lord.”

“Oh,” Octavian said, smiling suddenly. “Very smooth.”

Fidelias inclined his head, his mouth touched with amusement at one corner.

The Princeps turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Marcus.”

Fidelias dropped his eyes. “My lord...”

“Whatever else you’ve done,” Octavian said gently, “I have seen you. I have trusted you with my life, and you have trusted me with yours. I have seen you work tirelessly to serve the First Aleran. I have seen you give your body and heart to the Legion, to your men. I refuse to consider the idea that it was all a ploy.”

Fidelias looked away from him. “That hardly matters, sir.”

“It matters if I say it matters,” Octavian growled. “Crows take me, if I am to be First Lord, we’re going to establish that from the outs—”

The earthcrafting went beneath Fidelias so swiftly, so softly, that he hardly noticed it. He froze in place and narrowed his eyes, sending his own awareness into the ground beneath them.