“Lord Marshal Forest!” called Leo as he rode up. He could still ride well, at least, since the horse did most of the work. Gripping to the saddle made the stump of his leg ache, but he was damned if he’d let them strap him onto it. He considered wedging the reins in his teeth, decided that might be a bit informal, and tossed them over his saddle instead so he could hold out his hand, hoping his horse behaved.

The lord marshal, his uniform battle-stained, his scarred face weather-worn, his beard a grey riot, considered that hand with little enthusiasm and finally reached out to take it in a strong grip. “Young Lion.”

“It’s an honour to meet you. Really. Nothing teaches respect for a man like losing a battle to him. I only saw you from a distance, holding that ridge against Stour Nightfall. You just refused to be shifted. Quite a sight.”

“So was that charge of yours,” said Forest, grudgingly. “However it ended.”

“I’m hoping for a happier outcome this time around,” said Leo. “Between you and me, I’m running out of limbs at quite a rate.”

One of Forest’s frowning aides had a Union battle flag, and Leo was surprised at the bittersweet sting of nostalgia he felt at the sight of it, even dangling limp as a hanged man in the morning’s dewy chill. The blazing sun had been torn from the flagpoles of Adua, chiselled from the stonework, burned on cloth and paper a million times over. He wondered how many solar dinner sets had been destroyed since the Great Change.

“Corporal Tunny tells me we’re on the same side now,” said Forest.

“Thanks to the good graces of Victarine dan Teufel.” Or at any rate her low cunning.

“Wasn’t long ago you fought against the king,” grunted Forest. “Now you’re fighting for him?”

Leo puffed out his cheeks as he looked up at that flag. “Honestly, I can hardly remember what the world was like, before.” He shifted his left arm in his jacket, tried to work the fingers, winced at the numb aches

in his elbow. “I can hardly remember what it felt like not to be in pain. The reasons I fought against you… if there even were any good ones…

are burned off like morning mist.” He didn’t mention the chairs on the Closed Council he’d been offered. He’d got a lot better at judging what to say. And what to leave out. “The Great Change has to be changed back, at least some of the way, before the Union eats itself. That’ll have to be good enough.”

Forest’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Since we’re being honest, I’ll take all the help I can get. Your men look in pretty poor shape, though.”

Leo twisted around to look up the long rise, to where the People’s Army were drawn up across the road to Adua. They’d been an ill-disciplined mob when they descended on the capital and freed him from the House of Questions. They were far worse now. It would’ve been flattery to call their lines ragged. There were scarcely any lines at all.