“You claim you were ordered over the Murnskai border in a preemptive attack, over your own protests. But my colleagues at the Ministry of War seem certain no such order was issued.” He nodded at Durenne, who remained stone-faced.

“That’s because the order didn’t come from the Ministry,” Hallvez said. “It came from this office, by Patriot Guard courier, as a suggestion. When I objected, I was told to obey or face removal from my post for treason.”

“And so you marched your army, unprepared, into Murnskai territory, taking no precautions—”

“My precautions were not the issue,” Hallvez said, showing a hint of emotion for the first time. “Two-thirds of my troops were volunteers, with no training or drill. The fallorii, the Murnskai border guards, are light cavalry famous for their deviousness. They started cutting us to pieces within days.”

“Because you were unable to bring them to battle, and let your men fight piecemeal.”

“How would you suggest bringing them to battle, sir? A swarm of riders with three horses each, who know every inch of their damned country?”

“Enough,” Maurisk said. “It’s clear that this”—he waved dismissively at the report—“is a tissue of lies intended to cast blame on this Directory for your failings and undermine the war effort. Which, I may remind you, is treason. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Hallvez’ lip twitched. “Only that I ought to have resigned on the spot rather than obey your suggestions. Thousands of Vordanai boys that you asked to protect their country are dead or prisoners in Murnsk because of my cowardice. I will live with that until the end of my days.”

“Fortunately,” Maurisk drawled, “that will not be very long. Commander, please take this traitor away. Make sure the broadsheets print the time of his appointment with Dr. Sarton so the public can observe the fate of those who betray our homeland.”

Zacaros dipped his head, heaved himself to his feet, and took hold of Hallvez’ arm. The general shook himself free and walked out of the office, with the Patriot commander following. Maurisk waited until they were gone, then tossed back his brandy and poured himself another.

“I heard in the papers Hallvez had gone mad,” Durenne said from where he was leaning against the bookshelves.

“Mad, traitorous, or both,” Maurisk said. “What does it matter?”

“Are you sending suggestions to all our generals?”

“Too many of our officers have dubious loyalties,” Maurisk said. “They need to be reminded of their duty.”

“I wonder what you sent to de Brogle. Instructions to feed his men on rats and patriotic rhetoric, perhaps?”

Maurisk slammed one hand on the desk. “De Brogle will pay for his crimes. As will anyone who works against Vordan.” He eyed Durenne. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to hear what Hallvez had to say for myself,” Durenne said. “Being Minister of War, you know.”