He reached the dais and stepped up.

‘You are wrong.’

Nadej went to speak again, but was waved to silence by the captain-general. Tarfel was on the dais now, before the chairs, facing out over the hall. ‘My brother the king,’ he called out, his voice echoing over Chel’s head, ‘intends to replace you, each and every one. The only barrier is time.’

‘Horseshit!’ Nadej could control herself no longer. ‘If this bleached bastard really is the prince, we should carve him here and now and send the strips to his brother. That ought to guarantee some contracts!’

‘Nadej, be silent,’ snapped Saleh of Black Suns, she of the glossy armour. ‘All in attendance are safe within these walls.’ She turned to Tarfel. ‘Please continue, but don’t dawdle. Your highness.’

‘I shall be direct. My brother pretends to empire, a union of church and crown and a conquest to restore the borders of Taneru times. The existence of the free companies is an obstacle to this. You have seen him remove the northern companies, absorb them into his army of churchmen. Now that the north is under his control, he will turn his attention to the south, and one by one, you will fall.’

Chel was impressed with his demeanour, his ability to address this hostile and sceptical collection of mercenary captains without becoming flustered or overawed. Perhaps this was the sort of thing that being a prince prepared you for.

‘The situation in the south is completely—’ began one voice from the hall.

‘Not to him,’ Tarfel shot back. ‘You are looking for logic where none exists. He dreams of empire, and in the service of this dream you must all be consumed.’

He’s enjoying this, Chel thought. Despite their murderous reputations, none of the mercenaries has ever seen him weeping and afraid, only as the strutting young man before them, and he knows it. Already he could feel doubt in the room.

Saleh’s hand rested on her chin. ‘You speak of our replacement. This is the fabled army of red confessors? Farmyard bullies, ill-trained and equipped, a rabble of sackcloth fanatics. Look around you, Prince Tarfel Merimonsun. You address the cream of professional soldiery—’ Chel covered Rennic’s snort of derision with a cough ‘—and our capabilities are second to none. Even with a few of our former northern sistren to swell their ranks, their numbers will not touch ours.’

Tarfel stood his ground. ‘Only if they are combined. Each company alone cannot stand. And for each company absorbed, their numbers grow.’

‘This is preposterous. Why would a professional of good standing choose servitude in—’

‘Because it is not a choice!’ Tarfel was pink-cheeked now, glowing in the firelight. ‘Despite what you may have heard, the crown is not making contractual offerings. The companies are disbanding because the alternative is annihilation. They are joining his ranks because they would otherwise face ruin or death.’