“It’s a long story and I’ll tell it when we’re snug out of this pesky downpour. But the end was, after fighting the Southerners in the middle of their own earthquake, we was all split up regiment from regiment, and no time to re-form. Ah, they seized their chance. Their reinforcements, that wasn’t split up at all, hunted us to the coast. They hoped to crush us atwixt them and their navy. But we went willing, too. Lads, says our Blue-Nose, we’ll hope for a trick or two on them yet, I know more’n they think, he says. For by ill management their navy was more than half careening when we gets to the coast, where they’re having a right good time with fires and drink and noise, and we marches raggle-taggle up to them and says Very retiring types, these navy types, eh—for one minute they’re so noisy it’s ironic to say that, the next they’re running for their lives. Retiring as fast as they can. So we all holler with laughter and lay into them. Then up comes this fair gentleman and his little band. You are killing our enemies, they say, as if we done it all just for them. Well, the leader hangs back a bit, but the rest are right eager and they all go in a huddle with our Blue-Chin. He tells them what danger they’re in, how the Southerners and the Northern King and now the priest Kaselm at the head of as deadly an army of wharf-rats and hole-dwellers as ever was, are all coming against their precious Atlan, and how each of them, the lot of them knows the secret that’ll fill the airlessness—which, as I understand, is a lie, none of the Southerners knowing a mite of the secret—but how us lot have nobly—well, valiantly and gallantly—been holding them off and how they all hate us, ah, even the Northern King that sent us to get rid of us first on the Southerners before he sent his favourites for the Atlan pickings. (Didn’t trust our Blue-Shins, he didn’t, though he might have a go for the throne one of these days. And now he’s higher than him!) Ah, said these fair gentlemen, you’re a great General, you save us. My army’s scattered, says our merry Blue-Thighs, and me with no base to gather the lads to and from. Use Atlan, they says, it’s clear times have changed and our secret is threatened on all sides, and by all accounts you’re a brilliant General and can lead your army and ours and set all to rout. Ah, says our Blue Blood, but I’m to be of high rank. And their Emperor hissclf, stuck gaping at him since he first sets eyes on him, as clear a case of what they call hero-worship as ever I’ll see, says, You’re the New Man, you’re the New World. You are my Emperor!”