That was a slap on both cheeks, delivered forehand and backhand; it was supposed to cement the moment in your mind, and she gave it in the traditional style, a hard smacking buffet both ways. Knighting in the field was traditional too, and if anything, more prestigious. Armand was fighting down a grin as he drew his own sword and presented it across his palms. Tiphaine held it up and kissed the cross the hilt made before returning it.

“Take this sword, Sir Armand de Georges, knight of the Association . . . and the High Kingdom of Montival. Draw it to uphold the Crown, Holy Church, your own honor and your oaths to your liege, and to protect the weak as chivalry demands.”

“I will, my lady and liege. Before God and the Virgin I swear.”

“Then rise a knight! And I welcome you to the worshipful company of that most honorable estate.”

She repeated it for Rodard; when they were both on their feet she waved aside their thanks.

“It was overdue. The spurs and the vigil and the calligraphy on parchment can wait. Style yourselves household knights of Barony Ath and your stipends are doubled. We can discuss fiefs and manors after the war.”

That made their ears prick a little, beneath very well-schooled calm; they were loyal, but naturally ambitious. All noblemen lusted after land, herself included. She added, “Not to mention the marriages Lady Delia has been thinking of arranging for you, in loco parentis. Dismissed.”

There was a little alarm on their faces as well, when they turned away. Then she nodded to Rigobert.

“One more thing. Lioncel de Stafford! Attend me!”

The page dashed up; he was one of a brace of six she had running messages, all about as old as pages got and by modern standards eligible to be taken on campaign; his younger brother Diomede was eleven, and still serving in an ally’s castle on the far-off Pacific coast. Delia’s oldest child took after his father in looks, fair and blue-eyed, tall already at fourteen and from his hands and feet going to be even taller. He was wearing a light mail shirt, a steel cap, a sword and a buckler, with a crossbow slung over his back. Pages weren’t expected to fight, but you couldn’t rely on the enemy to observe the niceties, especially when fighting the Church Universal and Triumphant. Who were either bugfuck crazy, possessed by demons, or both.

Probably both, when it comes to their leadership. And I thought the Change was the weirdest thing that could ever happen. Never say ever.

“Lioncel de Stafford,” Tiphaine said formally; she usually called him Lioncel or you or boy!