A fact I do not like to advertise.” Though he told her every other time they met. “A man who never shed a tear in his life, and wore on his feet whatever was to hand. A low-born fighting man, who seized power in Talins by the sharpness of his mind and sword together.” More by blunt ruthlessness and brutality, the way Monza had heard the tale. “We are from the same stock, you and I. We have made ourselves, out of nothing.”

Orso had been born to the wealthiest dukedom in Styria and never done a hard day’s work in his life, but Monza bit her tongue. “You do me too much honour, your Excellency.”

“Less than you deserve. Now tell me of Borletta.”

“You heard about the battle on the High Bank?”

“I heard you scattered the League of Eight’s army, just as you did at Sweet Pines! Ganmark says Duke Salier had three times your number.”

“Numbers are a hindrance if they’re lazy, ill-prepared and led by idiots. An army of farmers from Borletta, cobblers from Affoia, glass-blowers from Visserine. Amateurs. They camped by the river, thinking we were far away, scarcely posted guards. We came up through the woods at night and caught them at sunrise, not even in their armour.”

“I can see Salier now, the fat pig, waddling from his bed to run!”

“Faithful led the charge. We broke them quickly, captured their supplies.”

“Turned the golden cornfields crimson, I was told.”

“They hardly even fought. Ten times as many drowned trying to swim the river as died fighting. More than four thousand prisoners. Some ransoms were paid, some not, some men were hanged.”

“And few tears shed, eh, Monza?”

“Not by me. If they were so keen to live, they could’ve surrendered.”

“As they did at Caprile?”

She stared straight back into Orso’s black eyes. “Just as they did at Caprile.”

“Borletta is besieged, then?”

“Fallen already.”