And likewise Norisle if we lose control of our Mystrian holdings.

He understood the wisdom that sent him half a world away to scout Tharyngian territory. It made perfect sense in the world of ledgers and figures. Men and brimstone and guns and uniforms all could be inventoried, then bundled on to ships with weighed-and-measured stores of food. Ministers would invest resources in the war-primarily to deny resources to the enemy-thereby winning that war. It would be a superior return on their investment.

But men were not numbers even though casualty lists suggested otherwise. Numbers do not scream. They do not cry out for their mothers. Owen shivered. Numbers do not beg to die.

Captain Tar broke through his thoughts. "It occurs to me, Captain, that men like Wattling want to believe they understand the reality of war."

"That is the folly of many men."

"Can anyone understand battle if they have not been there? I've not seen much fighting-fended off a pirate or two-but holding a Mate so the doctor can saw his leg off stays with a man."

Owen straightened up. "Wattling was partly right. Soldiers and sailors, we choose our lot. Seeing a weeping man staggering beneath the weight of his wife's headless body makes you wonder what war would do to Temperance."

Tar turned toward their destination. "It's a long way between New Tharyngia and Temperance Bay."

"Let's just hope it stays that way." Owen gave the man a smile. "And if my mission is successful, it will."

Chapter Two

April 27, 1763

Temperance Bay, Mystria

O wen Strake disembarked from the Coronet once the longboats had pulled it to the dock. His papers had been sent ahead with the Harbormaster, bound for Her Majesty's military headquarters. The Prince's Life Guards had been stationed in Temperance, in deference to Prince Vladimir's presence as Colonial Governor-General. The Guards had earned their assignment as a result of their failures fighting the Tharyngians-and hated it.