Edmund Talbot had been a reenactor before the Fall, a person who spent his time creating a very close approximation of a time “when.” He’d lived in a stone house, crafted swords and armor, and generally lived a comfortable life as a feudal lord with extra amenities such as antique flush toilets. After the Fall it had been revealed that he was one of the few legends of the pre-Fall period, Charles “The Hammer,” a man who had gone into Anarchia and tamed it in a few short years, disappearing thereafter, as mysteriously as he had appeared, but leaving in his wake a stable government that, as far as anyone knew, still existed.

Since the Fall he had been the UFS’ preeminent general, winning battle after battle against New Destiny.

The brand new Key hanging from a ribbon around Duke Edmund’s neck, the one recovered from Elnora Still after her assassination by New Destiny, showed just who had true precedence between the two.

“Your reputation precedes you, Major,” Galbreath said, sticking out his hand. “I think that what the duke meant was that, given the planned counterattack on Ropasa, it would be… difficult for the Army to lose one of its brighter field lights to politic in Washan.”

“I’ve got a dozen posts I need you at now,” Edmund growled. “Professor at the War College comes to mind. So does a battalion command. Hell, command of the new legion we’re trying to raise. Get married, go on your honeymoon, get your tubes cleaned and then pack your bags.”

“Hell of a choice, sir,” Herzer said, grumpily. “With Megan, who I love and want in a the worst possible way, in the capital, doing this,” he said, with a dismissive wave at the height of Washan society, “or eating cold monkey on a stick in Ropasa.”