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\hypertarget{chapter-22-all-according-to}{%
\chapter{All According To}\label{chapter-22-all-according-to}}



\epigraph{``Diplomacy is the art of selling a deal you don't want to people
you don't trust for reasons you won't admit to.''}{Prokopia Lekapene, first and only Hierarch of the League of Free Cities}



``No one goes through the front gate, Callow,'' Ratface told me
pityingly. ``Not unless you have a Name or you're in disfavour with the
Empress.''

``That just bloody figures,'' I muttered. ``There's another way in?''

``Try twenty,'' Hakram gravelled. ``Most of them through tunnels, but
the nobles have some fancy gate in the back.''

I scowled, much to the amusement of my officers. I'd missed the communal
breakfast for my company, as Black had let me sleep in up to Morning
Bell before sending me back. Within moments of setting foot on the
grounds my officers had come to ambush me: morning classes had been
dismissed because of an announcement that was the talk of the College. A
five-way melee had been ordered by the Empress herself, and the
participants had been informed in the middle of the meal. We
commandeered one of the classrooms to serve as our meeting hall,
ushering out the handful of cadets studying inside. There were
advantages to Captain rank, even when it was a purely collegial title.
My lieutenants clustered together on the same bench as if I was about to
start a lesson while Hakram propped himself up on what was likely the
teacher's desk: he was the only sergeant in attendance, since this was
theoretically a senior officers' meeting. No one objected to his
presence, not that I would have given in if they had: I'd come to value
his advice too much to care if him being around ruffled a few feathers.

``So,'' Kilian spoke up, ``a five-way melee. Been a while since they
organized one of those. I'm guessing it's not a coincidence that the
people in it are the four top companies and little old us?''

I'd paid little attention to the lieutenant of the mage line, when I'd
first come across her in Ratface's tent, and hadn't see much of her
since. Red-haired and pale-skinned, she was an unusual sight this deep
in the Wasteland. \emph{Likely there's a story to that.} Setting aside
my curiosity for the moment I grimaced, leaning back against the desk
with my arms folded over my chest.

``There's other forces at play here,'' I told them. ``My name, as you
might have guessed, is not Callow.''

Pickler cocked her head to the side.

``You're not actually the Duchess of Daoine's secret bastard offspring,
are you?'' she asked flatly.

``I-'' I opened my mouth, closed it and then opened it again. ``I
genuinely don't know how to respond to that.''

``That's the most popular rumour as to why the Blackguards picked you
up,'' Ratface informed me in an irritatingly amused tone. ``Ran away to
Praes so you could learn war from the best. Very romantic stuff. Until
the melee everyone was talking about it.''

``I am not, in fact, the hidden heir to the Duchy of Daoine,'' I replied
patiently, rubbing the bridge of my nose to stem the no-doubt oncoming
headache.

Ratface cursed under his breath, handing a smug-looking Kilian a handful
of silver denarii.

``Told you it was Name stuff,'' she crowed.

``She doesn't do magic and there's already a Squire and Heiress running
around,'' he argued. ``What Name could she possibly have?''

I cleared my throat.

``Yeah, funny thing about that,'' I admitted.

Surprisingly, Nauk was the first one to get it.

``You were there when Lord Black hung the Governor, huh,'' he grunted.
``Well, that explains that.''

A ripple of surprise went through the officers. I'd have to remember not
to underestimate how sharp the orc lieutenant was just because he was
muscled like a bear and liked punching people in the face. It took more
than brawn to make his rank.

``Long story short,'' I continued, ``I got baited by Heiress and now
we're in this mess. You have my apologies for that.''

``Ah, Imperial politics,'' Ratface murmured. ``Someone always gets
screwed, and never the one who deserves it.''

He got sympathetic looks from the others at that and I made a mental
note to get the whole story about why from Hakram later. My sergeant
seemed to have an inside track into every story going on in the College
and displayed absolutely no reluctance in feeding me the juiciest
morsels.

``Something like that,'' I agreed. ``If Heiress continues to make the
same kind of plays she has so far, we might have a company -- or more --
going for us from the beginning. Girl has deep pockets, and she's not
above bribing her way to victory.''

Pickler shook her head.

``Won't work,'' she assessed. ``Not here.''

I raised an eyebrow. Hopefully she wasn't about to make a speech on the
strength of Praesi moral fibre, because so far I'd found the subject
less than impressive.

``She's right,'' Ratface agreed. ``Anyone takes a bribe for this and
their career in the Legions is over.''

I hadn't considered that, actually. True, my teacher could just put in a
quiet word with some of his followers and kill someone's career if he
wanted to. Would he? After a heartbeat I decided he would. It'd be seen
as Heiress meddling in his backyard, so he'd have to make an example.

``Even then,'' I finally said, ``expect sabotage. She wouldn't have put
forward those terms if she didn't think she could affect the odds.''

``Eh,'' Nauk shrugged. ``As long as they keep that shit off the
battlefield it doesn't matter, does it? We just need to wreck everyone
else.''

``He's right. This isn't the kind of war game that can be easily
stacked, anyhow,'' Pickler murmured. ``Too many people in play, too many
different priorities.''

The almost adoring look Nauk sent her after the comment forced me to
bite down on a smile. I'd never really gotten to see the two of them
interacting before but I had no trouble at all believing what Hakram had
told me about the large orc having a thing for the goblin lieutenant.

``Which brings me to the point of this little chat,'' I broke in after
having smoothed my face out of any amusement. ``There's four other
captains participating and I'm going to need anything on them you can
give me.''

``You sure you need us to tell you anything about the Hellhound?''
Kilian mused, dark eyes dancing with amusement. ``From what I hear you
whipped her pretty bad even without us around.''

I smiled but inside I was wondering about the most polite way to nip
this in the bud. I didn't want to antagonize one of my senior officers
within the three days of my getting a command, but underestimating
Juniper was a sure-fire way to get spanked so hard our grandkids would
still be feeling the sting.

``She actually played me like a fiddle from start to finish,'' I
admitted, deciding that a little self-deprecation was the way to go. It
wasn't like I'd have to lie to get my point across, or even stretch the
truth. ``If I hadn't blindsided her by having a Name she would have won
-- and she nearly did anyway.''

Ratface cleared his throat, breaking in.

``On the bright side, she'd unlikely to hold a grudge,'' he mentioned.
``She'll want to win this one too badly to focus on us: she'll go for
victory, not payback.''

``We can focus on Juniper later,'' I agreed. ``I think I've got a decent
read on her anyway, it's the other three that are unknowns. I only know
the name of the guy in charge of Fox Company -- Captain Snatcher,
right?''

Pickler nodded.

``He's not going to be an immediate threat,'' she spoke quietly, ``but
we can't afford to give him time to dig in. He's turned his entire
company into defence specialists -- made it mandatory for every single
one of his cadets to take the sapper classes.''

Defence, huh? Not the flashiest of specialties but it sounded like it
could get troublesome. Snatcher might not meet us on an open plain --
tough since I had no idea what our battlefield would look like, I had no
idea whether we'd even have one of those handy -- but recent history was
full of stories making it very clear that giving Legion sappers the time
to set up surprises always ended nastily for the attacker.

``Anyone assaulting a position he's fortified is going to take brutal
losses,'' Hakram gravelled from my side. ``That might be enough to lay
the groundwork for cooperation with another company, at least until he's
out.''

``Something to think about,'' I mused. ``What are we looking at, in
terms of allies?''

``Captain Aisha Bishara is our best bet,'' Ratface contributed
immediately, ``she runs Wolf Company.''

Bishara. I'd heard the name before -- hadn't Juniper mentioned it last
night? There was a wave of snickering by the others. Even Pickler
cracked a smile.

``I bet you'd like to \emph{ally} with her, all right,'' Nauk grinned.

I raised an eyebrow and sent Hakram a quizzical look.

``They were involved,'' my sergeant informed me. ``She dumped him a few
months back and he's still in denial.''

``She didn't \emph{dump} me, you green arse,'' Ratface scowled. ``We're
just on a break until we're less busy with things.''

``Like I said,'' Hakram continued with a sagely nod. ``Still in
denial.''

``All right, let's table further mockery of Lieutenant Ratface for the
moment,'' I replied with a wry smile. ``Who's our last contender?''

``Captain Morok,'' Kilian spoke up. ``Head of Lizard Company. They're
second in company rankings, so he'll be wanting the Hellhound's head on
a pike.''

``They've got a feud running?'' I asked my officers.

``Not really,'' Ratface said. ``Well, maybe him -- he takes things
personally. They're nearly head to head in points, so if he wins this
and Juniper loses he'll climb up to first rank. It's his last year
before graduation, so he won't be getting another chance.''

``That's something I can use,'' I muttered, passing a hand through my
hair.

I'd braided it into a semblance of order this morning, but I might have
to cut it soon. It was getting too long, and it was awkward to wear
under a legionary helmet. Hakram cleared his throat, which made him
sound like he was retching out half a desert.

``Have you decided how many points we're going to be bidding, Captain?''
he asked.

I frowned.

``Bidding? That's the first I'm hearing of this.''

Kilian folded her hands together. ``Instructor Bolade said we're
supposed to bid a set amount of points. If we win the melee, we'll gain
that many -- and if we lose, we'll lose that many.''

``An exercise in calculating risk, she called it,'' Pickler contributed
quietly.

I could see how. Company scores, as I understood, were not the affair of
a single batch of cadets: they were a legacy inherited by the next one.
All scores were set back to zero every decade, but considering the last
reset had been two years ago a large bid that failed could haunt a
company for a very long time. Nobody wanted to leave a mess like that
behind and be remembered as the captain that tried to bite off more than
they could chew, screwing over the next two batches of cadets. Which
reminded me, I still had no idea what Rat Company's score actually was.

``I know we're in the negatives,'' I said, ``but how far down are we?
Seventeen, twenty?''

Ratface closed his eyes, his face flushed.

``Forty-two,'' he muttered.

I kept my face smooth, almost grateful for the refresher course in doing
exactly that the Court had turned out to be. \emph{Forty-two?} A win in
the war games was a two point gain, a defeat a two point loss. A draw
was a one point gain for the defender and a one point loss for the
attacker. I knew Ratface had lost twelve in a row and that Rat Company
hadn't been doing well even before that, but I hadn't expected them to
be stuck that deep down the well. It meant that even before the Taghreb
had been put in charge the company had been losing far, far more often
than they won. I could see the embarrassment in the face of my officers,
the shame of having let their standing fall so far, but now was not the
time for self-recrimination.

``That's a relief,'' I said.

Ratface blinked. ``Pardon?'' he asked.

I smiled. ``With that kind of a handicap, I feel a lot more comfortable
in using some of my more\ldots{} debatable ideas.''

Nauk laughed, apparently delighted at the prospect. Pickler was hard to
read, but Kilian looked like she was wondering whether to be insulted or
amused.

``Hopefully it doesn't involve jumping logs this time,'' Hakram
muttered. ``That hasn't been a winner for me so far.''

I shot my sergeant an amused look.

``I'm sure I could find a drill, if you'd like,'' I mused. ``Always be
prepared, right?''

``I seem to recall having urgent duties anywhere but here,'' the tall
orc replied. ``I really should go see to them.''

I snorted. ``All right, dismissed. Get the company ready, we don't have
a lot of time.''

They slid off the bench one by one, saluting before going through the
door. Hakram shot me a questioning look, but I gestured for him to go.
It was Ratface's shoulder I clasped to hold him back.

``So you're our supply guy,'' I said, drumming my fingers against the
desk, leaning back against it.

Ratface shrugged, his handsome features highlighting the absurdity of
his chosen name.

``Something like that,'' he agreed. ``Usually it's the captain's job to
handle this stuff, but you have enough on your plate already.''

Didn't I just?

``I got a sealed letter from the Headmistress this morning, before I got
back to the College. It specifies what quantity of stuff we're allowed
to requisition for the melee, with caps for types of goblin munitions,''
I told him. ``I'm considering our options, and you know your way around
the College stocks a lot better than I do.''

The olive-skinned boy straightened his back, interest piqued.

``You've got something particular in mind?'' he asked.

``We'll get to that later,'' I replied. ``When we passed the stocks
earlier I noticed that they have a parchment nailed down with what they
have available on it. I want you to send someone to copy it. I'm
guessing the other captains are doing the same.''

The grey-eyed lieutenant raised an eyebrow.

``You want to know what the others will be taking into the melee,'' he
said.

``It should give us an idea of the way they intend to go at it,'' I
acknowledged. ``But what I really want to know is if there's a way to
get anything without going through the College stocks.''

Ratface paused, eyeing me very carefully.

``Not\ldots{} officially,'' he said. ``But I might know a few people.
Why? It'd be a lot of effort, and we can't take more than allowed onto
the field. More than that, the others will notice we haven't drawn as
much from the stocks as we can -- they'll know something is up.''

``They will,'' I noted, ``unless we draw up to our limit until the last
possible moment. Then we return our surplus, and\ldots{}''

``They'll go into the match with wrong information about what we're
carrying,'' Ratface finished thoughtfully. ``I'll talk with my friends.
Get back to me as soon as you have hard numbers.''

I nodded.

``Another two things,'' I added. ``Send someone to the College archives.
I want everything you have on the old melees. There's also records of
more recent games, right?''

Ratface nodded.

``I want a record of every game Juniper was a captain for,'' I grunted.
``As quickly as possible.''

``Anything else?'' the lieutenant asked drily.

``Well, since you asked,'' I mused. ``I'll need a guide for the day. I
have a few people to meet.''

---

It seemed that having a vicious sense of humour might be a widespread
Praesi trait instead of just my teacher's: the guide Ratface had
assigned me was Robber.

``He'll be easy to recognize, Cap,'' the goblin said. ``Just look for
the ugliest orc in the training yard, can't miss him.''

The grounds we were headed to weren't inside the College, though they
were close. It was apparently possible to reserve them for a bell if you
signed up with one of the instructors, and aside from First Company the
Lizards were the company whose name came most often on the list.

``Is that so,'' I said neutrally.

``Now, as is well known,'' Robber told me in a tone implying he was
about to impart a fundamental truth of life, ``orcs are the ugliest
creatures in Creation as well as the dumbest. But Morok is in a class in
and of himself, as is only fitting for a captain. His face has been
known to scare goats and make children cry.''

``Isn't Hakram one of your friends?'' I asked mildly. ``And, you know,
an orc.''

``He's an honorary goblin,'' the yellow-eyed sergeant replied without
missing a beat. ``One of these days I'll get around to adopting him into
the Rock Breaker tribe as my ugly but still-beloved son.''

I must have been a bad person, deep down, because I actually found the
little shit kind of funny. Regardless, we'd arrived. A wall about a
man's height encircled the yard, though I could hear the sound of metal
against metal coming from inside. A pair of human cadets flanked the
main entrance, eyeing us distrustfully. Or not actually \emph{us}, I
noticed after a moment. They were both glaring at Robber.

``What did you do?'' I asked with a sigh.

``Nothing,'' the goblin sergeant protested.

``I'm sure those rats got into our dormitory all by themselves,'' a
dark-skinned boy said through gritted teeth.

``They must have heard you lot talking shit about Rat Company and gotten
confused,'' the small goblin grinned maliciously. ``You know how
small-brained creatures get, I'm sure.''

The other cadet, Soninke as well, let her hand drop to her sword.

``You utter prick,'' she snarled. ``One of them bit my-''

I cleared my throat, loudly. ``Robber, go wait down the street. Cadets,
I'm Captain Callow. I'd like to talk with Captain Morok.''

They exchanged looks. ``He said-'' the boy started.

``A visit by another Captain qualifies,'' the girl grunted. ``You might
have to wait until he's done, though.''

I nodded and granted Robber a steady look.

``Try not to get stabbed, Sergeant,'' I ordered.

I was halfway through the doorway when I heard him call back ``no
promises!'' I bit my cheek so I wouldn't smile. The inside of the yard
was beaten earth with weapon racks propped against the walls, though
lines of ground chalk had been traced to form some patterns I vaguely
recognized from my lectures on the Legions. \emph{Formation drills.}
There were benches between the racks and most of the hundred or so
legionaries inside were sitting on them, watching two people fight in
the middle of the yard.

One was a Taghreb girl, the largest I'd seen since Captain -- meaty and
thick-shouldered where her people were usually slight of frame. The
other, who was currently hammering at her shield with his own, was the
ugliest orc I'd ever seen. \emph{Godsdamnit, Robber.} He wasn't wearing
his helmet so I could see from the occasional grin that his teeth were
yellowish. His eyes were dark and deep-set, and I couldn't help but
notice he had a large brownish mole just above his lip that was almost
fascinatingly hideous. Like most orcs Captain Morok was heavily-muscled,
but where the likes of Hakram and Nauk were in perfect shape he had
something a pot-belly.

Not that it seemed to be hindering him any: he was winning the fight,
and pretty handily. Slower than Juniper, I assessed, and his movements
were kind of sloppy. But the girl he was fighting looked like she was
getting kicked by a horse every time he hit her, and he battered her
defence down until she was kneeling in the dirt. There was a cheer when
he helped her up afterwards, and I leaned against the wall as another
legionary walked up to the pair. They talked, too far away for me to
overhear, and Morok glanced in my direction. Spitting on the ground, he
shoved his sword and shield in the cadet's hands before beginning to
walk towards me.

``Captain fucking Callow, is it?'' he leered, passing me by to pick up a
water skin off a bench.

Popping off the cork, he took a long swallow -- some of the water
trickled off his lips onto his chin, mixing with the sweat already
there.

``That's me,'' I agreed.

``You're a skinny thing, for the heiress to Daoine,'' he snorted.

``This is going to be worse than the goblinfire, isn't it?'' I sighed.

The captain's eyes sharpened. ``What's that?''

``Nothing,'' I grunted. ``No relation to Duchess Kegan, it's just a
rumour.''

``Sure it is,'' he smirked.

It occurred to me then that he was being rude on purpose. Pushing me to
see how I'd react, like I'd once done to fighters in the Pit. The
thought was comforting: I might have been a long way from home, but some
things stayed the same. \emph{And I know how to deal with his type.}

``So, you're Juniper's runner-up,'' I mused. ``Must sting, that she
whipped your lot like children when Rat Company pulled off a win.''

Morok smiled, showing off yellow but still very sharp fangs.

``Did your little helper Ratface tell you what I did to your company
last time we fought?'' he asked. ``Didn't even use munitions and we
still took the fort. First time it ever happened, I'm told.''

I now had no problem whatsoever understanding why Robber had flooded
their dormitory with disease-carrying rodents. Pushing down the flash of
anger, I raised a hand in peace.

``We could do this all day,'' I acknowledged, ``but we've got better
things to do.''

``\emph{I} do, anyway,'' Morok snickered. ``So why the fuck are you
here, greenie?''

``Because I beat Juniper,'' I stated flatly. ``And she's not the kind of
person that takes that lying down.''

The other captain wiggled his hairless brows in a thoroughly horrifying
gesture.

``You and the Hellhound lying down, now there's an image,'' he said.

Ripping out one of his teeth and jamming it in that fat ugly mole
wouldn't help me, I told myself. Id't be deeply satisfying, but it
wouldn't help me.

``You're second in rankings,'' I gritted out. ``If anyone else wants a
shot at her, it's you.''

Morok shrugged.

``Could be,'' he said. ``What's that got to do with you?''

I narrowed my eyes. He wasn't an idiot -- he wouldn't be a close second
in company scores if that was the case. But he was deliberately ignoring
the offer I'd implied. \emph{Why?} My mind raced, and the answer I
settled on had me tightening my lips. \emph{He thinks we'll weaken First
Company just enough for him to pick them off afterwards. He's not
interested in working together, he just wants us to tear at each other
so his position's stronger regardless of the result.} Hellgods, I was
sick of being used as a piece in other people's games.

``She'd beat us,'' I admitted. It was the truth: in a straight fight,
First Company would walk over us like we were a freshly-paved Miezan
road. ``But Morok, here's the thing: if I'm going down, I'm taking
everyone else with me.''

The fat orc eyed me cautiously.

``I'm not getting into a fight I can't win,'' I said. ``So we'll
surrender -- and before getting the Hells off that field, I'll clap her
on the back and hand her all our munitions.''

He only half-managed to suppress his wince. Fighting First Company was
one thing, but fighting a First Company at full strength with twice the
amount of goblin munitions? There wasn't a force on the field that'd be
able to take Juniper then, and we both knew who she'd be headed for.

``It'd take someone with no pride to flop belly-up like that,'' he
growled.

I shrugged.

``I'm Callowan, Morok,'' I spoke in Kharsum. ``I've spent my entire life
with an Imperial boot pushing down on my throat. How proud do you really
think I am?''

The captain spat again, the fat gob of saliva coming dangerously close
to my boots.

``So we ream her together,'' he conceded in the same tongue. ``But
that's all, Callow. You're not riding this one on my coattails. The
moment we withdraw from the field, the truce is done.''

``Wouldn't have it any other way,'' I agreed.

I offered up my arm. After a moment, he clasped it.

---

I'd learned from the last trip and left Robber at a street corner close
by.

``Tea?''

Captain Aisha Bishara was taller than me, I was chagrined to notice. Was
it too much to ask to meet at least one military officer that was
shorter? One that wasn't a goblin, anyway.

``Please,'' I replied.

She was rather pretty, in that way some Taghreb were. With a lovely
heart-shaped face, tanned skin and wide dark eyes, I could easily see
how she would have caught Ratface's eye. Her hair was cut in short bob,
though strictly speaking it was still longer than Legion regulations
allowed. \emph{Then again, so's mine.} Like Morok she'd been rather easy
to find: it was common knowledge she had a private room set aside in the
Sword and Cup for her personal use. The busy tavern wasn't the kind of
place I would have expected a girl of her apparently noble origins to
adopt as her unofficial headquarters, but then I supposed that if she'd
been the kind of person who cared for that stuff she would never have
gone to the College in the first place. Aisha poured for both of us,
elegantly setting aside the porcelain tea cup when she was done.
Hospitality was a point of pride for the Taghreb, I remembered Captain
telling me. An old tradition from before the days the first Miezan
galley had ever reached the Wasteland's shore, and one that was central
to the southern culture in many respects.

``Captain Callow,'' the dark-eyed girl mused. ``So you're Ratface's
replacement.''

I felt a flicker of unease at that, though it never reached my face. Her
involvement with the boy I'd replaced as captain of Rat Company had been
mostly a source of amusement so far, but it occurred to me for the first
time that she might have an issue with me replacing her -- former? --
paramour.

``So they keep telling me,'' I said prudently. ``Is it going to be an
issue?''

She blinked, though that was the only sign of surprise she gave. That
was what I hated about dealing with Praesi: you could dump a bucket full
of sheep heads on one's table and you wouldn't get much more than a
frown out of them. Trying to get a read on the nobility of the Wasteland
was like trying to dry a godsdamned lake.

``Why would -- \emph{Hakram}, you gossipy bitch,'' she cursed in a low
voice.

I hid a grin. In other circumstances I might have tried to defend my
favourite minion but he really \emph{was} a gossip. Aisha let out a
frustrated sigh.

``Look, Callow,'' she addressed me flatly. ``If he was cut out for that
kind of command the Rats wouldn't have lost as much as they did. It was
right for him to be replaced. One sin, one grace.''

The last four words she'd said with the fervour of a woman at prayer,
which would have gotten a pained grimace out of me if I weren't already
working on keeping my expression neutral. I was as good as apprenticed
to the man who'd introduced that philosophy to the Legions, and that was
why I could grasp how utterly terrifying it was. Black had indoctrinated
the better part of a generation into thinking that morality was
irrelevant to the battlefield: the only things that mattered when the
swords came out were victory and defeat. When the next war came, and I
had no doubt that one was coming, there would no blundering generals at
the head of the Legions. The coming generation of Evil would not fall
apart on its own. \emph{They've been taught that winning matters more
than anything else, and they're not above breaking the world if that's
the only way to own it.}

``So I've heard,'' I muttered.

``But I doubt you came to speak about my love life, Callow,'' Aisha said
pleasantly. ``What is it you actually want?''

Ah, and now came the tricky part. Time to get my head in the game.

``I'm more interested in talking about what \emph{you} want, Aisha,'' I
replied with a smile. ``I've been keeping an eye on the stocks, you
see.''

``Quick learner,'' the dark-eyed girl said approvingly. ``If you've been
doing that, though, you know your company isn't the one I'm after.''

Her grabbing as many siege munitions as she could had made that plain
enough, true.

``That's what I'm here about, to tell you the truth,'' I told her,
sipping at my tea for the first time. Huh, that was the first time I
ever tasted that blend -- it wasn't the stuff Praesi usually served.
Imported from the Senrima, maybe? That had to cost a fortune. ``I'm not
keen on letting Snatcher build his walls while the rest of us fight it
out.''

Aisha smiled.

``Well now, Captain Callow,'' she purred. ``It seems like we have a
common interest.''

I put down my teacup and my smile broadened.

``Let us talk business, then,'' I replied in Taghrebi.

---

After touching base with my officers I'd gone back to Black for my usual
lesson and stayed around afterwards, electing to remain in the
comfortable solar he'd appropriated in central Ater instead of returning
to the College.

``I've read through all the reports on games Juniper commanded a company
in,'' I said after a few hours of silence.

``And?''

I sighed, reaching for the cup of wine he'd poured me earlier and taking
a sip.

``She doesn't make mistakes,'' I informed my teacher after swallowing.
``Every time she had the necessary information, the calls she made were
perfect.''

Black seemed more amused by that than sympathetic.

``Maybe I should have made her my Squire then,'' he spoke airily.

I scowled at the bastard.

``You know people only laugh at your jokes because they're scared of you
right?''

He snorted. ``I'm assuming you have a point, apart from your apparently
upcoming nuptials with Istrid's daughter.''

I sneered at him as best I could, though compared to the nobility he so
often had to deal with I was an amateur at the art. I'd never found orcs
particularly attractive, which I'd been informed was a shared opinion
from their side of the wall.

``How do you beat someone who always makes the right choices?'' I
finally asked him.

Morok I could deal with -- I'd faced men like him before, fought and
beat them. Aisha was trickier, but her focus on Snatcher made it
possible. And Snatcher? Well, I was keeping quiet on my way to deal with
him. Some cards needed to stay face down until the very last moment. But
Juniper? I'd tried to come up with something to trump the Hellhound and
come up empty.

In a straight-up fight she'd crush me, I knew that much. She had more
command experience, a formal education in tactics and she'd shaped First
Company into a heavy combat force my own legionaries would be unable to
deal with. Which was fine, anyway: I'd never been all that fond of
straight-up fights. I could scrap with the best of them, sure, but there
was always someone who was bigger or better at taking hits. The problem
was that every single dirty trick I'd manage to think of was present in
one of those reports, and \emph{she had beaten every single one of
them}.

Her only defeat on record was the one I'd inflicted on her, and it had
been a fluke. She'd led me around by the nose the whole time and if
she'd suspected I had a Name she might very well have managed to beat me
even if I'd somehow managed to tap in my power. A power I couldn't even
count on, anyway, since I hadn't managed to use my Name since the last
game -- and not for lack of trying. \emph{Godsdamned Lone Swordsman.}

``Ah,'' Black hummed. ``She's that kind of an opponent, then.''

``It's kind of hateful how good she is at this,'' I admitted.

``I've had Grem One-Eye under my command for twenty years, Catherine,''
he told me dryly. ``I can certainly empathize with the feeling.''

That was a pretty jarring admission, coming from a man I'd been told had
once toppled the king of one of the Free Cities using only a rowboat, a
donkey and a pair of broken shovels. There were stories about Marshall
One-Eye too, of course -- the Wall had stood firm against the greenskin
clans for centuries before he'd somehow managed to take all three of the
forts the same night -- but they were nothing compared to the outrageous
ones they told about the Black Knight. He smiled at me, once again
managing to read me like a book despite my best efforts.

``There's always someone better,'' he said. ``Nonetheless, in your
particular situation there's one thing that should do the trick.''

I raised an eyebrow, not savouring the suspense as much as he clearly
was.

``Are you going to do that thing where you give me cryptic advice that
later comes in useful at a critical moment?'' I asked, trying to convey
how irritating that particular habit was through my tone.

Black took a sip from his cup, though not quickly enough to hide that
he'd actually been a little offended by that. I tried not to be openly
amused, though not very hard.

``Well not \emph{now}, I'm not,'' he muttered. ``Fine, you killjoy.
Here's your advice: cheat.''

I eyed him sceptically from across the table.

``So who do I talk to, to trade you in for a better mentor?'' I asked.

``There's no attributed Imperial bureau for uppity Squires,
unfortunately,'' he sneered at me.

I grinned, smothering a laugh, and even the cold fish that was my
teacher deigned to offer a smile to the world.

``So,'' I said after a moment. ``Cheating, huh. I don't suppose you'd
care to elaborate on that?''

``War games are, ultimately, still games,'' he murmured over the rim of
his cup. ``You're still trying to win according to the rules, when you
should be trying to win despite them.''

I leaned back into my comfortable seat, letting myself enjoy the warmth
of the fire and the bellyful of wine as I closed my eyes. The both of us
let silence fall over the room as we descended into our own thoughts.
\emph{How do you beat someone you can't beat?} I asked myself\emph{.} My
teacher had long left the room when I felt a savage smile stretch my
lips. There was a way, maybe. It was underhanded and unfair, not to
mention a little immoral around the edges, but then I was a villain
wasn't I?

I supposed it was about time I started acting like one.