The priest managed to pull one arm forward to jab a finger at the Shield Anvil. ‘My rank is as Destriant! Unless you’ve one to make claim to that title?’

‘Destriant Karnadas is dead.’

‘That man was no Destriant, Shield Anvil! An Aspirant, perhaps, but my rank was and remains pre-eminent. Thus, only a Mortal Sword can invoke the Reve against me, and this you know.’

Gruntle snorted. ‘Itkovian, Paran here told me there was a betrayal. Your priest sold Brukhalian’s life to the Pannions. Not only disgusting, but ill-advised. So.’ He paused. ‘Will any Mortal Sword do? If so, I invoke the Reve.’ He bared his teeth at Rath’Fener. ‘Punish the bastard.’

We are replaced. The Lord of Battle is transformed indeed.

‘He cannot!’ Rath’Fener shrieked.

‘A bold claim,’ Itkovian said to the masked priest. ‘In order to deny this man’s right to the title, sir, you must call upon our god. In your defence. Do so, sir, and you shall walk from here a free man.’

The eyes within the mask went wide. ‘You know that is impossible, Itkovian!’

‘Then your defence is over, sir. The Reve is invoked. I am become Fener’s hand of justice.’

Rath’Trake, who had been standing nearby in watchful silence, now spoke, ‘There is no need for any of this, Shield Anvil. Your god’s absence changes ... everything. Surely, you understand the implications of the traditional form of punishment. A simple execution – not the Reve’s law—’

‘Is denied this man,’ Itkovian said. ‘Captain Norul.’

She strode to Rath’Fener, reached out and plucked him from the hold of the priests and priestesses. He seemed like a rag doll in her large, scarred hands as she swung him round and threw him belly down on the flagstones. She then straddled him, stretching his arms out forward yet side by side. The man shrieked with sudden comprehension.

Itkovian drew his sword. Smoke drifted from the blade. ‘The Reve,’ he said, standing over Rath’Fener’s outstretched arms. ‘Betrayal, to trade Brukhalian’s life for your own. Betrayal, the foulest crime to the Reve’s law, to Fener himself. Punishment is invoked, in accordance with the Boar of Summer’s judgement.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Pray, sir, that Fener finds what we send to him.’

‘But he won’t!’ Rath’Trake cried. ‘Don’t you understand? His realm – your god no longer waits within it!’

‘He knows,’ Paran said. ‘This is what happens when it gets personal, and believe me, I’d rather have had no part in this.’

Rath’Trake swung to the captain. ‘And who are you, soldier?’

‘Today. Right now. I am the Master of the Deck, priest. And it seems I am here to negotiate ... on you and your god’s behalf. Alas,’ he added wryly, ‘the Shield Anvil is proving admirably ... recalcitrant...’