Hal opened the door a crack and leaned into the room. It was dark and silent. A still figure turned toward him. “Carwyn. It’s time.”

Carwyn got up from his bed silently and walked straight past Hal. His room was bare. He had already packed.

Hal walked back down to the living room where everyone was waiting.

I’ll miss them all so much. If only they didn’t look at me like I was some bandit, come to take their lives away.

“So, this is it!” Hal clasped his hands together awkwardly.

“Finally.” Murmured Serilin, not very quietly.

“Hush.” Said Gillian. “This is the last time you will see your father for a long time. Souring this moment could haunt you forever.”

“Is dad going to die?” Ophelia said sadly. “Will we be homeless?”

Hal laughed. ‘No, no. I’m not going to die. I’ll be away for a while, and then I will come straight back. I’ll be very safe.”

“Why are you going? Why can’t you stay?” Ophelia said.

“Well, you are all being moved to a much nicer house in the palace, so you will have plenty of company and people to protect you.” Hal patted Ophelia’s head gently. “I’m going away to fight for us. To stop some bad people from hurting you all. Darling, I cannot say much more.”

“He can’t say anymore because he’s lying, and can’t make up anything else on account of his small brain,” Serilin said snidely.

Hal grinned at her. “I’ll miss your cutting wit most of all, Serilin. You have been a brilliant sparring partner.” He walked to her and kissed her briefly on the forehead despite much protest.

“And Carwyn, my silent champion.” Hal shook his son's hand. “I wish you well in your future… endeavors.” Hal winked.

“Thanks.” Carwyn’s mouth moved in a smile. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Really. My life is so great now.”

Hal took a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder. “You're welcome.” He kissed Gillian and left.

Maybe it’s all for the best. Of course it is.

Being careful with his long black coat, Hal climbed into the carriage. It would take him straight to the command tents outside of the city walls. With a start, Hal saw that a bald little man was waiting for him inside.

“Hello Lord Landoran. We haven’t spent much time together over the last few months. At least not as much that I would have hopped.” Leif Bakker nodded and held his hand out for Hal to shake.

“Call me Hal, please.” He shook Leif’s hand. “And I agree. Our meetings have been sparse.” He took the seat opposite him and thumped on the carriage wall. The coachmen roused the horses.

“I am curious, Hal. Your Council. They have been spending quite… liberally. And- and I understand the necessity of such things, but…” Leif scratched at his chin uncomfortably. “Your Council has not been effective in its basic, designated functions. The coffers are already strained with the recent accession of Chieftess Olga, and I am sad to say we will be forced to look at altering existing funding, at the very least.”

Hal sighed. “That is sad to hear, Leif. Is there anything I can do?”

Leif raised his eyebrow. “I… well, you could begin by using your forces to support existing guard and other general order enforcement infrastructure. They could also be used more heavily within military training and support. Just think, these systems have already been developed and optimized long before your Council came along, and even then they were a drain on finance. If your Council was used to enhance and decrease costs for other channels in an organized way, I believe they would finally be put to good use. No offense, of course.”

Hal nodded. “That is a grand idea, Leif. It’s so good that I’ve already gone about implementing it, in a way.”

“Oh?”

“I have placed my agents in every facet of this government. And I will be the first to say Leif, it was not an altogether difficult task. Let me count them off. I have three infantry officers and two working in the logistics office. I’ve one agent serving as an assistant to Admiral Bell, which is really the equivalent of them being Admiral Bell from a reconnaissance point of view. The man is not tight-lipped” Hal crossed his legs, scattering some dirt from his shoe onto Leif’s leg. The man quickly wiped it off.

“Why are you telling me this?” Leif obviously did not enjoy being unprepared.

“Just wait, you’ll see. Within the Chiefesses staff, I have two agents. And for King Foucaud I have four, can you believe? I haven’t managed to shove anyone into the ever-absent Brack’s retinue, but his son seems so open for advice I hardly find it necessary. In Morland’s office, I have six, and like our friend Bryan, the man is quite pliable.” Hal looked Leif straight in the eyes. “And in your department. Well… that is where I will end my list.”

Leif huffed and looked out of the cart. He was blushing heavily and fidgeting with his sleeve. He was in agony.

“What I will be specific about is how you are known for your… liberal attitude with personal expenses. I believe an indecently large amount of money has been used on your own personal home renovations alone! But of course, a high-ranking official such as yourself needs to live in luxury. That is, if one is generous, a permissible expense. The thing is, Leif, that you live in a small apartment not far from your offices. It only has two rooms, and not much furniture. Though the painting of the sea at night that you have hung over your bed is rather tasteful.”

Leif turned to Hal angrily. “Oh, get on with it! You’ll ask no questions if I ask none. Done. Deal. You’ve won.”

“That is nice to hear.” Hal let the silence stretch out. “We’re both professionals here. I really don’t plan on being very rude to you.”

“No, no. I understand. It’s not personal.”

“I wish more people understood that, Leif. It’s a hard job this. Hard to have any friends.”

Leif gave a little chuckle. “That’s because you’re good at your job.”

“Thank you.” Hal looked closely at Leif. A sudden positive shift in mood was not a common reaction, but it had happened before. Usually the smart ones realised, even in the pit of defeat, that having some dignity was better than having none. No matter how easy it could be to throw it all away.

They sat in silence until the carriage arrived at the camp. It was sprawling, and gave a strong aura of organised chaos. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Men hurried through the dark carrying torches and bundles of gear, and a strong smell of manure overpowered everything else.

Hal looked for the biggest tent. It was square, and made of plain canvas. Hal passed the two armoured men standing guard with a simple nod. Although he was not technically authorised to enter, few royal guards were unfamiliar with Hal or the Council.

Commander Strickland was calmly pushing wooden figures around on a map with Olga, Bryan, and Admiral Bell. Robin was skulking behind Bryan, but smiled as Hal entered. “Lord Landoran! We were just discussing you.” Without Foucaud, who was kindly standing as regent until Olga returned, the room was rather too intimate.

Strickland raised a grey eyebrow and turned to Hal. “Yes, Lord Landoran. If you would be so kind…” He gestured to an empty space next to Olga. When Hal stood next to Olga, she refused to meet his gaze.

I’m not very popular today. But knowing Olga, being ignored may be a sign of grave respect.

Hal nodded along with the rest as Strickland set out the preliminary war plan. Each of them would lead a separate division with heavy advisement from Strickland’s officers. Hal would lead a small, specialised group of men. The same division he was a part of all those years ago. The division’s task was officially reconnaissance and infiltration-based, but Hal knew better. This was the reason he had been called back in the first place. Granted, the two people who had truly understood Hal’s purpose were either dead or exiled, but Strickland knew enough.

After Strickland had finished, they all left the tent. With a brief tug on Hal’s sleeve, Olga stopped him. “You are to lead just a division. Please explain the reasoning.” Olga looked severe and regal in her armour. Her new personal guard, Gunnar, stood several steps behind her. When the man wasn’t looking around the tents as if he were expecting imminent attack, he stared distrustfully at Hal.

Hal chuckled. “Why hasn’t anyone told you? Well, I guess it would be best coming from me.” Hal took off his coat and threw it at Gunnar. He wore a loose, short-sleeved shirt underneath. On the inside of his right arm, there was a colourless and crudely drawn tattoo. On his wrist was a boot standing on a crying head. “I apologise for its lack of subtlety, but it captures the spirit rather well.”

Olga inspected the tattoo. From the head ran a straight line of small, equally sized teardrops that led methodically. The line was so long it ran under Hal’s sleeve.

“What is the division's name?”

“The Company of the Boot.”

“And the tears?’

Hal took his coat back from a very still Gunnar. “How many people that I've made friends with along the way.” Hal laughed with the unsmiling Olga. He shook his head. “No, they’re kills. All honourable and well won, I promise.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Olga shook her head. “Why do men find glory in such things? What does having killed a few men prove? And why mark the tally on yourself, for all to see?”

“I don’t know. It means nothing. Perhaps only that I was a fool in my youth.”

“A fool? No.” Olga turned away and walked back into the command tent. Gunnar gave Hal a strange wink before following.

Hal sighed and gazed far off into the camp. He could see fires, and laughing men. A nostalgic smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Right step left step we step you step.

When were done they’ll all be through step.

May their widow's scream be true step.

And their daughters be fair too step.

Burning homes that is their due step.

Graves are full and more to do step.

One step two step boots step you step!

Hal, humming to the familiar tune, walked to his tent. He could recognise it by its planned proximity to Olga’s, who had a sharp looking group of pale Skogur soldiers camped opposite.

Hal’s few possessions had been moved into the tent already, and a basin of water and an Efir lamp sat next to his bed. All that was left was to sleep. He undressed and washed his face in the basin.

The trail of tears that led from his arm meandered to his back, where they ran in a snakelike pattern to make rows upon rows of black, dotted lines. Hal had lost count.

He extinguished the lamp.