He rode closer a step, then two. ‘I’d like to be with you for this. If our lord was here I would be, at the point of this wedge, and you all know that. But he’s not, so command falls to me. Left flank, strip your shields!’

The soldiers on the left flank of the wedge rested their weapons and tore at the thin layer of dyed felt covering their shields, revealing lacquered white beneath.

‘Troop sergeants and corporals, keep an eye out for flags on the keep slope! And if you can’t see those, look higher, to the gate towers. At all times, you will see two flags upon each pole. Two flags on the white pole, two flags on the black pole—’

Someone’s shout cut him off. ‘Begging pardon, captain! But if we don’t know all that already we deserve to be cut down!’

Ivis subsided, feeling foolish. ‘Fine. I’m an old man and I want to dither, Abyss help us all.’

Laughter answered that comment.

‘Sir! Kindly get out of the way!’

Grimacing, Ivis collected up his reins and kicked his horse into motion, swinging left and riding down that wing, his gaze fixed forward.

Voices reached out for him as he passed.

‘Sir, I missed that order to fuck!’

‘You lie, Shanter! You never miss an order to fuck!’

‘I’ll see you after, Shanter!’

‘That’ll take an order, Brusk, at sword’s point.’

‘Wait! Did I hear Shanter’s taking orders?’

And then he was past, nodding to himself. He had heard it all before, a thousand flavours but ever the same taste. It broke his heart to hear such life pushing through the gathering, suffocating fugue that came in the moments before battle. Each jest, each voice raised in rough banter, shone like a gold flag in a black forest, making all that was to come that much harder to bear.

Reaching the slope, and the flag station, he reined in and swung round to face the field once more.

The Borderswords were assembling at the far side of the field. They formed up in a rough, uneven line, some readying lances and others drawing their long stabbing swords. The dust that had travelled across the field was now mostly gone, and the clear air between the two armies wavered like water in the day’s heat.

This latter detail was unpleasant, as it invited dehydration and heat prostration from his heavily armoured men and women. Then again, if the battle went on too long, all was lost anyway.

‘Signaller!’

‘Sir!’

‘Commit the advance.’

‘Yes sir!’

Moments later, the wedge lurched into motion, a walk rising to a trot.

The enemy was now as committed as were his own Houseblades. With the field walls behind them, retreat was impossible. He saw them move forward.