Joseph the Gamecock was an irascible man, yes, but also a courtly one. He did not care to think about twice-mangled Lieutenant General Bell going at the foe like that, but bowed from respect for his courage. Bell would do it; he didn’t doubt that in the least. Bell would, in fact, surely do it with a song on his lips. That didn’t mean Joseph didn’t reckon him somewhere close to mad for even thinking of such a thing.

But Joseph didn’t say that, either. What he did say was, “Let us hope, gentlemen, that we never have the need for such desperate measures.” For a wonder, neither Roast-Beef William nor Lieutenant General Bell disagreed with him.

From his unicorn, General Hesmucet looked west to Proselytizers’ Rise, then north to Sentry Peak, the stony knob that towered above the town of Rising Rock. The autumn before, blue-clad men who called Grand Duke Geoffrey the rightful King of Detina had held both strongpoints. The traitors’ flag, red dragon on gold, had flown above them. Even Hesmucet, as grimly aggressive a warrior as any who followed King Avram against the traitors, marveled that the northerners had been driven from those heights, but now Avram’s banner, the proper royal banner, gold dragon on red, waved over the high ground.

Hesmucet scratched at his chin. He wore a close-cropped, almost stubbly black beard, just beginning to be streaked with gray as he edged into his forties. He was not very tall and not very thick through the shoulders, but had a lithe sort of wrestler’s strength that made him much more dangerous in a melee than he looked. He also had a driving energy that was, at the moment, aimed northwest.

Beside him, mounted on a unicorn finer than his own, sat Lieutenant General George, his second-in-command. Turning to him, Hesmucet said, “We’re going to smash right through the traitors, by all the gods.”