“Um … no, my pardon. I will endeavor to learn,” Arcolin said. “But Captain Arneson or one of the scribes here would write down your words if you spoke to him.”

The estvin bowed again. “If my lord permits, it is time for this one to return.”

“Of course,” Arcolin said. “I do not know yet the exact day I will leave, but it will not be for another three hands of days at least. I hope you will come again before then.”

“As my lord says,” the estvin said. With a last bow he withdrew.

In the next days, Arcolin worked through all the reports, held Count’s Court for both Duke’s East and West, conferred with Captain Arneson on the readiness of the recruits, and discussed with him and with those who had been on recruiting duty before the likely intake for the coming year.

“The king wants to be sure we have enough troops in case of invasion,” Arcolin said. “I know the Marshals are keeping the civilians and retired in at least basic training, but I’d like to see larger recruit cohorts even than Kieri had. We have the space, and with Foss Council’s contract this year I’ll have the resources.”

“We’ll need cloth to replace what the gnomes used,” the quartermaster said.

“Already ordered when I was in Vérella,” Arcolin said. “You should have it in plenty of time to make the tunics before the new recruits arrive. The weavers said they’d have it on the way by the Evener.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And I have permission from the king to recruit this far afield,” Arcolin said, pointing to the map. “Valichi has talked to Count Halar and has permission for me to recruit there. I’m going to leave you an extra recruit team, Captain, to handle the larger numbers. Don’t hesitate to release the ones who don’t work out, but let’s try to retain at least a hundred ten. On the basis of past recruitment, you’ll need to start with at least twenty more.”

“Yes, my lord,” Arneson said.

“I will be short of senior enlisted,” Cracolnya said.

“I know. We’ll discuss that later.”

Cracolnya nodded.

“This year’s intake is looking good,” Arcolin said to Arneson. “Are there any you have doubts of now?”

“Barring serious injury in the coming days, no, my lord. We’ll be ready to march when you give the word.”

On that final morning, the new troop—now in Fox Company maroon tunics, newly sworn to Arcolin—marched out to the tune of “Gird at Greenfields,” with the yeomen of the nearest grange arrayed beside the road singing with them. Another change, Arcolin thought as he rode in the lead, persuading his chestnut not to caper about like a colt. In Kieri’s latter days, there’d been no notice taken when the recruits left the stronghold for the south.