After lunch, once he was back at the council, David watched one of George Louis’s secretaries hand out stacks of papers to the nobles around the table. Nathan wouldn’t be able to do so for a while, even with crutches. And even if he were physically capable of it, David just couldn’t see his brother in that role. It wasn’t that Nathan wasn’t smart enough for it. But sitting or standing still for any length of time was just not something he enjoyed or was any good at. Nathan was great at a trail, at pursuing a target. Not at lying in wait.

To say nothing of his social skills.

David stifled a yawn while a clerk went over the output of bone ash and excrements of Loegrion’s cities, apparently the main sources of the burning element the alchemists needed to create the incendiary cannon balls. The clerk glared at him when Andrew walked in, as agreed, to hand David four sheets of paper covered in names.

Everyone else stared at David, too, when Andrew hurried outside again.

“My apologies,” David said. His smile probably wasn’t very convincing as he added: “An unrelated matter. Just a small issue with the werewolf-deployment. Please, do continue.”

The clerk did, and David studied the pages. Boris had noted down all the packs and solitary werewolves on the first couple of pages, and on the second two, where each werewolf had been ordered to go. He had even helpfully underlined each werewolf who was getting separated from their pack and also included their age.

From what David could see, there wasn’t a single group that wouldn’t lose at least one member.

He frowned and leaved back to the first page. Alvin was on the “unaligned” list, but Chandler the forger, Millie, and Clyde were listed together.

How strongly bonded could a pack of four-month-old werewolves possibly be?

On the other hand, they had shared a prison, if not a cell, for every day of those four months.

Jody, Mia, and Chester were to be split up, too.

The backside of the last page was headlined: “Werewolves younger than five months.”

“Not just a small issue?” George Louis asked in a whisper when David frowned again.

“Yes.” David stared at the papers again and wanted to swear. He hadn’t realized just how young some of the werewolves George Louis had brought here from Deva were.

And how should they deal with the pack-issue?

Greg hadn’t mentioned if the four elders had been troubled at the thought of leaving their packs behind, but they were elders, after all. Nathan had described Greg’s own reaction to the possibility of losing his pack as quite strong. And Greg had gone to check on Bernadette first, upon arriving at Oldstone Castle, before even checking on Nathan. As if she was family, too.

“Why are you separating the werewolves into three groups?”

“In a moment,” George Louis assured him softly. The duke turned back to the clerk, who was now droning on about the iron and steel production of Sheaf and the nearby towns, and finally finished with the coal output from Mannin.

“Thank you,” George Louis said. “As you can see, gentlemen, we are not lacking for the basic resources of war. What we do need more of are guns, and cannons, and ammunitions. We will need to turn all our industries towards those so that every loyal son of Loegrion can be armed towards the coming war. We are not entirely without allies, too. The free Norsemen of Fylke are sympathetic to our cause, and already, people from the Empire’s colonies are landing at our coasts.”

“Refugees,” spat Marquess Rover. “They’re hardly worth the cost of feeding them!”

“Quite the contrary,” said a man who David didn’t know. His family was clearly not native to Loegrion, judging from his tanned skin and black hair. “Food, Loegrion has in abundance. This year’s harvest was quite bountiful, thanks to the new protector of the White Torrent. The next is sure to be even better, now that we know how to keep the Rot away from our fields. Growing a man capable of bearing arms takes far longer than growing wheat, though. Any man brave enough to make the journey should be welcomed.”

“My thoughts exactly, Marques deLambert,” George Louis said.

“But if we are to turn all our industries to war, how will you pay for our goods, Your Highness?” Marquess Picot asked. “Or has Clyde’s Pass agreed to give you credit after all?”

“Clyde’s Pass hasn’t answered my request yet. They’re no doubt waiting for a better offer, fools that they are,” George Louis said. “I will not need their credit at all.”

“How come, Your Highness?”

George Louis looked around the table, steepling his fingers. “As most of you will be aware, Mannin was the last city to fall to the Valoise,” he said. “What fewer people know is that parts of the old Royal Archives were sent to Mannin from Deva, subsequently falling to my ancestors.”

“You’re going to pay us in books?” Marquess Rover interrupted with a sneer.

“I am going to pay in information.”

“What information could possibly be that valuable?”

George Louis smiled, clearly enjoying himself. “How about the exact locations of all the abandoned silver mines in the Argentum Formation?”

There was a moment of silence around the table. Silver wasn’t gold, true, but it was sure to be in high demand.

“I might even be persuaded,” George Louis continued, “if a vassal was to prove extraordinarily loyal, to hand out some of the mapped gold deposits of the Central Ranges included in the archives.”

David grinned inwardly at the even deeper silence all around the table. Everyone knew – or believed – that the Central Ranges were full of gold. It hardly even mattered if George Louis truly did know where to find some. Credit was about credibility. As long as the nobles and the banks believed that he had the maps, his credit would be good.

“Or perhaps some people would prefer gemstones,” the duke finished.

Lord Clermont broke the silence with a snigger. “I’d like some rubies,” he said, his good eye full of mirth.

George Louis nodded at him. “I’ll see what can be done.” He turned back to the rest of the room and clapped his hands. “Gentlemen,” he said, “money is not the obstacle. I will reward loyalty royally. There will be silver, gold, and gemstones, and shares to the railway lines to Silverford, Clyde’s Pass and beyond.”

He looked up from the lords to their aides, standing at the back of the room. “There will also be government positions, and for the most outstanding deeds, I will grant lands and titles, regardless of a man’s, or indeed, woman’s, birth.”

“And where will that land be?” one lord asked. “There’s little left unclaimed of the heartlands.”

David could see at least one of the aides roll his eyes at the question. George Louis just smiled, and said: “Don’t think so small, Lord Fell! The whole valley of the Abhain was once settled. Sweet apples and golden peaches came from its shores, before they were overrun with the Rot. As soon as the war is over, the Abhain will be cleansed, and I will finance an expedition of werewolves to find and cleanse the well of the Savre. The Man and Hafren likewise. The Stour-valley might be reclaimed before the Grand Armée even reaches our shores. I, for one, am looking forward to some home-grown wines.”

David looked up at George Louis and then back down at the list of werewolves.

“That’s where this third group of werewolves is going?” he asked.

George Louis nodded. “Unless that issue you mentioned proves unsolvable, the plan as it stands is this: Half the werewolves will be stationed along the coast. As I do not have any intelligence from our spies at Rambouillet that another attack is imminent, this group will be largely made up of those werewolves injured in battle. They will stay here, at Oldstone Castle, until they’re recovered, and then be placed at postings in Deggan, Breachpoint, King’s Haven, and strategic places between the cities. I see you have an issue with that.”

David nodded, but asked: “The other two groups are to go to the railway and Deva, is that right?”

George Louis nodded. “It is my understanding that the railway has been – overstaffed, so to speak, and that three elders there should be enough, as long as each crew has younger werewolves.”

David glanced at the list again. Ragna was slated down for the railway, together with Boris and Chester. From what he could see, all the other werewolves were Greg’s age or even younger.

“In theory, what you propose is possible, I suppose,” he said. “But this,” he raised the list, “isn’t going to work. Right now, you have only have one actual elder at the line, two solid werewolves who’re still far from being elders, and a bunch of barely stable ones.”

“Well, figure something out,” George Louis said. “I want two more groups of solid fighters, one smaller one to protect Deva, and a larger one to cleanse the Stour.”

David stared at the duke. Everyone else was looking at him, and there was something in George Louis’s gaze that told him that “No way,” was not an acceptable answer right now.

David sighed inwardly and looked back down at the paper. “You want the railway group to move out tomorrow?” he asked.

“Ideally.”

“Fine. I need to talk to the man who made the current groupings, and I need maps with the planned stationing at the coast, and of the Stour-valley.” He pushed out of his seat when George Louis waved at one of his men. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.”

To his surprise, Lord Clermont got up as well. “I have a feeling there’s a lot to learn about werewolves there,” he told George Louis and followed David and the adjutant outside without waiting for an answer.

The very young lieutenant nervously wrung his hands as he led the way down the corridor. He looked like he couldn’t be much older than Greg.

“Perhaps, if you can tell me what the issue is, I can sort this out, Lord Feleke?” he asked.

David shook his head. “There are several issues with this plan, and some of them aren’t easily explained.”

“I’d like to hear them anyway,” Lord Clermont said.

The lieutenant opened a door. “In here, Your Lordships,” he told them. “I’ll get the maps you requested. And another chair.”

The room was fairly small, filled mostly by a large empty table and cases full of documents all around. There were only one chair and a stool which was probably for reaching the highest bookshelves rather than sitting.

David let the old general have the chair and shuffled his lists again, waiting until the nervous young man had done as he had said.

“What’s your name?” David asked, sitting down in the seat a soldier had carried for the lieutenant.

“Uh, Fletcher, Sir. James Fletcher.”

“Congratulation, Lieutenant Fletcher. Take that stool and listen, I’ll make sure that you’re given responsibility for all werewolf-related rosters in the future.”

Fletcher opened and closed his mouth. “Uh, shouldn’t someone more experienced...”

“There’s only one clerk with any experience regarding werewolves in all of Loegrion, and he’s chained to his desk at the Lackland Company,” David said wryly. “You’ll do fine. Now, first issue: You need proper elders to guard the railway navvies. Elder means one hundred full moons, or roughly eight years. Second issue, some werewolves form packs. Here’s a list of the packs currently in existence. Do try not to break up these units.”

He took a deep breath while Fletcher made notes in a small book.

“What would happen if we do break up a pack?” Clermont asked.

David decided to give him an honest answer. “We don’t know for certain yet. It’s unlikely to improve their performance, though, and may have negative long-term ramifications to their well-being.”

“But it won’t make them go – wild, will it?” Fletcher asked.

“That – is extremely unlikely,” David said slowly. He considered, for about a second, lying and pretending that there was still a risk, but then decided against it. The werewolves surely needed people to trust them more than they needed the packs, so he added: “There are no records of any werewolf going mad after their fourth full moon transformation.”

Fletcher noted that down, too.

“That brings us to the third and most urgent issue: Some of the werewolves here at Oldstone Castle are just over two months old. They may not be stable. They should not be freely walking around the keep at all. The scientists at Deva did a study, I’ll have someone mail you a copy if you want.”

“Uh, thanks? But we also received reports from First Camp? They said that their stable werewolves subdued and killed the other ones?” Fletcher asked.

“Oh, hell.” David groaned and rubbed his face. “Look. Yes, my brother was able to defend the workers at First Camp against three mad ones, but it was plain luck that Greg is big, even for a werewolf, and wasn’t hurt severely in the fight. When sane werewolves fight mad ones, only strength, and size, and weight matter. A two-week-old mad werewolf can permanently cripple or even kill a ten-year-old elder. Do not use sane werewolves as guards against the mad ones. They’re too valuable.”

He pushed the list of eighteen names over to Fletcher. “Everyone on this list needs to be placed under guard immediately, inside a cell, if at all possible.”

“You mean right now?”

“Yes, I mean right now. It’s three days after new moon. If there’s a spreader hiding amongst them, they’ll transform at sundown and start biting every human in sight.”

Fletcher paled visibly and grabbed the list. “I – yes, let me find... I’ll be back!”

“Talk to my brother Andrew!” David called after him.