Small farmers, tradesmen, shopkeepers-by now, after three years of war, telling at a glance what a soldier had been was a hopeless, unwinnable game. Despite individual differences, all the men looked very much alike: lean, sun-browned, poorly groomed, dirty, wearing blue uniforms in no better shape than they were. Some of those blue tunics and pantaloons had started life as gray tunics and pantaloons, and been taken from southrons who didn’t need them any more and then dyed. Some few gray pantaloons hadn’t been dyed at all. That went against orders, but happened nonetheless.

A nasty, frowzy crew, would have been the first thought of anyone seeing Gremio’s company-or, very likely, any company in the Army of Franklin. But a second thought would have followed hard on its heels: these men can fight.

Florizel limped out in front of the regiment. He carried a folded sheet of paper, and ostentatiously unfolded it to draw the men’s attention. A nice bit of business, Gremio thought, resolving to use it in the courtroom one day.

“Men of Palmetto Province!” Florizel boomed. “We were first in our rejection of that gods-damned maniac who calls himself King Avram and sits in the Black Palace in Georgetown like a hovering vulture, waiting for the north to die so he may feast on our dead flesh and crack our bones. Now once more his wicked armies advance on us, and we must be among the first to throw them back.”

They raised a cheer. Gremio found himself cheering, too. He wondered why. They’d all had countless chances to be maimed or killed. Now Florizel was telling them they were about to get more. And, instead of cursing him, they cheered. If they weren’t utterly mad, Gremio had never heard of anyone who was.

“Men of Detina! Brave men! Patriots!” Florizel went on. “There are two gaps through which the cursed southrons might attack us. We shall beat them back from both. We shall not let them ravage Peachtree Province. We shall not let them steal from us the great city of Marthasville. The gods love King Geoffrey. Our cause is just. Provincial prerogative forever!”