‘I know that,’ he whispered in reply, lifting his head and wiping at his cheeks. ‘I know that. Let the wolves close in – I will kill them all, one by one, I will kill them all.’

His head pounded; he was hungry, but all he could manage was to lie down upon the rolls of cloth and close his eyes. Pain had its own teeth, sharp and eager, and they sank deep into him. Bite by bite, they could tear him away – they were welcome to all that was lying here – until nothing was left.

The shell was gone, shattered by an old man who had tried to convince him that a cell was a palace, and imprisonment a gift. Even Hunn Raal had lied to him. Hunn Raal, an object of contempt to the man whose very life he had saved. Was it any wonder the fool drank to excess?

But he’s been very busy, Father. Speaking in your name. That part was easy, since all he had to fill was silence. You do not even know it, but he has your future all mapped out. You’ve surrendered all choice, dear Father.

I am glad you didn’t raise the flag. The Legion is no longer yours, although you do not yet know that, either. It will march in your name, however. That it will do.

Changes are coming, coming to us all.

* * *

Over the next two days Osserc avoided his father, taking his meals in his chambers. He gathered together all that he would need, selecting two swords, including a hundred-year-old Iralltan blade – that forge, rival to the Hust, had been destroyed by the Forulkan, the family slaughtered and the keep fired. The mines had been later taken over in yet another example of Henarald’s acquisitive greed. The weapon had been a gift from Hunn Raal, and it was finely made, bearing an elegance of line that no Hust weapon could match. Osserc had never used it when sparring, although his practice weapon was a perfect match in balance, reach and weight. His other sword was from a secondary family forge, under the ownership of the Hust but tasked with making weapons for Urusander’s Legion. It was plain but serviceable, and held its edge well, although twice the bars of the hilt had been replaced after cracking round the grip.

Many veterans claimed that the Hust had deliberately supplied inferior weapons to Urusander’s Legion, but this was the subject of guarded mutterings in the barracks, since Lord Urusander, upon hearing that opinion, had revealed a rare loss of temper, publicly dressing down the officer who had voiced the suspicion.

Osserc believed the soldiers, although apart from the bars, his Legion sword bore no flaws in workmanship. The iron was free of tin pits and the blade was impressively true.