His army was in his own lands for much of the progress west, and the men responsible for provisions had arranged for food and drink. But even when he crossed out of Barratin lands—ten or twelve days still from Orane, with so many on foot—he refrained from attacks on the villages they passed and the two walled towns. These were people he might govern, one way or another, in the days and years to come. And claim taxes from. Money shaped the world. His father, he remembered, had called it the sinew and purpose of war.

He had food purchased. They didn’t steal it. That might have to happen later, but not yet. This campaign could drive him deeply into debt if it went on too long, because you had to pay your soldiers or they left you. Or killed you. Or abandoned you to be killed. He knew the stories. Every commander did.

But if he could merge Ferrieres with Barratin—if he could do that for himself, for his sons and his grandsons after—there would be no throne more powerful in the world, and it would be theirs. A truth worth fighting to make it happen.

Or, if the chance arose, worth arranging another assassination?

Which was not nearly as costly, and might save many lives.

He had his younger son with him. Perhaps a mistake. Guiart was only fourteen, but it was past time for the boy to start learning of warfare and armies. They’d be part of his life. And if his older brother died, he’d be the duke of Barratin one day. And perhaps king of Ferrieres. Besides which, Laurent de Barratin was discovering he enjoyed seeing the boy, being with him. A late realization, but a true one.

The older brother was in Berga, safely (more or less) behind its walls. Arnoul would govern there with his father away. He wasn’t happy about this, and he wasn’t quite ready for the role, either, but one needed to learn some things by doing them, and there were advisers with him at home. Loyal ones. Or, more precisely, Barratin hoped they were loyal. He had them watching each other. The world was too uncertain for more than hope. And sometimes, he thought, hope was foolishness.

He found himself thinking of his sons a great deal these days. And, yes, his soul, and Jad.