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*****

Someone in the Q.M. stores was merciful, and I had also been left a uniform that fit me appropriately, given my current condition. Judicious use of needle and thread (borrowed from a friendly housekeeper), and a flatiron (ditto) put things in a state that would pass muster with whoever was going to interview me.

I hoped.

At least the appointment was at Terce, which allowed me time to wash up thoroughly and shine my hooves and antlers (or at least, the part of one of them that was still left, shedding season being off a bit). The bells of the Cathedral had just finished ringing Terce when my escorts, two cavalry-furs with drawn swords, deposited me in the Statecraft Chamber.

I admit that, once I sat down on the stool assigned to me, I gawped like the country fawn I am. When you're five-four (without antlers) and sitting on a low stool, nearly any room will be huge, and Meadow's description of it didn't do it justice. I don't know if they ever have foreign dignitaries in there, but if they do, I'm sure this would impress them. Not the least of which was the Map that Lieutenant Rivers and I had updated: it was on one side of the wall, well lit by the leaded-glass windows high above.

I had a bad case of nerves, but I also had an uncanny feeling that I couldn't quite place a finger on. There was more than one reason that I was sitting on the edge of the stool.

The big double-doors to the Chamber swung open, and I got to my hooves and stood at attention in nothing flat. There was a familiar heavy tread that I could hear going across the marble floor, right after the doors banged shut. As soon as the Marshal came into view, I snapped off a stiff-armed salute, which he acknowledged. He then made a motion with his paw to sit down. I resumed my perch on the edge of the stool.

Prince Roland was carrying a rectangular case that was covered in black leather. He took a key from a pocket of his tunic, unlocked it, and lifted the lid. I could see, upside down, the Royal Cipher embossed in gold. The Marshal extracted a scroll and his spectacles, and then shut the despatch box.

I was mildly surprised that he was alone, seated at one of the long, marble-topped tables. I had expected him to be accompanied by other officers, or even Sergeant Wing, but there was no one else there. Or, rather, no one that was apparent.

He began to read from the scroll, which turned out to be a summary of the Board of Enquiry's findings. Most of it was factual. At the end, the Board made certain recommendations. One of them was that leniency be shown regarding our violations of parade-ground behaviour Articles. The other, a bit to my surprise, was that Lieutenant Chitterleigh wasn't going to get the Valour Medal, because his actions didn't take place in combat or by the paws of (proven) foreign agents. They did recommend him for a promotion to Captain, and consideration for an Imperial (as opposed to Army) decoration. I got a promotion to Corporal for saving my officer's life.

The Marshal finished reading, and set aside the scroll. He took off his spectacles, and began rubbing at them with a piece of silk taken from his pocket. He looked over and down at me.

"Any questions or comments, Corporal?"

Well, I did keep silent about the fact that my promotion had already kicked in. "Yes, sir. I noticed the Board didn't mention Gramerye when they talked about how I noticed the assassin. Just how I noticed his uniform was out of place. I guess that's why the officers were happy when I mentioned the bit about the uniform. The Board didn't want to emphasize that I used Gramerye?"

Back on went the spectacles. "No, Corporal, they did not."

"Is that a document that's published, sir? That foreign ambassadors can read?"

"Yes."

"So, we're keeping furs guessing on that point?"

The Marshal folded his fingers into a tent in front of his nose. "Precisely how many furs we have in the Army that are trained in Gramerye is something I like to keep close. I will say one thing, Corporal: you are the first enlisted fur to earn a Gramerye qualification in more than 90 years."

"But sir, I didn't pass the exam, I..."

For whatever reason, at that moment, I dived off the stool, rolled to my right, and got up into a crouch. Where I met the half-amused, half-bored gaze of the same black-furred wolfess who had scared the hell out of me after the Article Four. She put her paws behind her back, and arced an eyebrow.

"Well, there are other ways of testing, Corporal. Although if you'd prefer wasp-nests, I'm sure I could arrange something with Lt. Rutter..."

The Marshal gently rapped his knuckles against the marble top of the table. "That won't be necessary, Captain."

The wolfess bowed. "Of course, Your Highness."

The Marshal opened up the despatch case again, and removed a small, gleaming object. After beckoning me closer, he handed it to me. It was a silver version of the eye-pin that the wolfess wore on her cloak.

"Put that somewhere safe, Corporal. As I'm sure the Captain can tell you, it's not generally worn in the field. It tends to attract unwanted attention in combat. But do wear it when you're in the capital. There aren't many who can wear it."

He paused, as I put it on my tunic, next to my qualifications on the sword, spear, bow and short-staff.

"I will say, Corporal, that you didn't quite do what I was expecting of you, when I first talked with you. You were lucky that it was only the Captain, here, who noticed your role in the Article Four. It was also something of a surprise to me that you worked so well with another one of my agents."

For a short interval, I wasn't following him, and then I looked up with a start.

"I should say, Corporal, and you've probably figured it out by now, that I have my own means of finding things out. The Scrying Tower is all well and good, but I've never been convinced in all my years that it's either infallible, or can be everywhere at once. I find that having furs the Crown can rely on, to supplement my knowledge, is quite helpful."

He extracted another scroll from the case. He read it over, and pursed his lips.

"The agent I was referring to now believes that you have the ability to think quickly, and are very good at conspiracies. She has made her own judgements about your loyalty to the King, which I happen to be in agreement with. As to certain observations she has made about you, Corporal, that are neither within the scope of her duties nor, for that matter, in the least bit professional, I will pass over that. It might have amused me when I was a young sub-altern, but I am far too old to be reading that sort of thing now, let alone acting upon it."

He looked up, and saw that my ears were burning. "You need not be embarrassed, Corporal. I read enough to show that you did act with discipline, in spite of certain, what's the word?"

"Provocations?" offered the wolfess.

She earned a glare for her suggestion, and a harrumph.

"Moving along. Now that Captain Chittlerleigh has chosen to marry that femme (officers in my day didn't marry 'em so young), it seems that you are out of a job, Corporal."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You'll be put in the Replacement Pool, and probably shipped out in a few days along with a few other drafts." He put the loose papers into his case, and closed the lid. He looked over to see that I was tilting my head.

"Question?"

"I'm not really understanding, Your Highness, how shipping out with a replacement draft is consistent with my qualifications."

The Marshal leaned forward with some interest. "No, it really isn't, is it?"

"May I ask another question, sir?"

"You may."

"Where does the King need me?"

Now, I don't know what in Fuma's Creation possessed me to say that. Having a one-on-one conversation (more or less) with the C-in-C had probably gone to my head.

The Marshal, for his part, leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers again. "A very interesting question, Corporal. In point of fact, the King does need you, in a very specific place. Are you familiar with the United Cities?"

I sat up. "We just signed a treaty with them, recently. When I helped Lieutenant Rivers with updating that Map, over there, he noted that the colour had changed. I mean, that we had signed a treaty with them. But it hadn't been spoken of." I thought a little further. "That might be connected with some visitors we had recently. I saw a chipmunk, dressed up very fancily, visit here one night. The Lieutenant - I mean, Captain Chitterleigh, was called away to meetings when he came. Further negotiations of some kind, that furs wanted to keep secret."

The Marshal nodded his head. "More or less correct, Corporal. Only they were not, in fact, further negotiations. The United Cities has been under severe pressure from an alliance of other realms. That alliance was hoping the United Cities would either stay neutral, or join them. Word hasn't gotten out, yet, of the change, but when it does, I need to know what's going to happen. There'll be fireworks, to be sure, and we will have obligations to meet."

He pointed a finger. "Now, mark you, the United Cities are not part of the Empire, and the King's Writ doesn't run there. Should you be captured or killed, the Crown will disavow any knowledge of your actions."

"Am I to operate within their realm, sir?"

"Not openly. I plan on assigning you to one of the border-fort areas. You are to stay within the Empire, unless you, in your judgement, decide that operating within the United Cities is necessary. Fair warning: there's a very thin line that you'll be walking. That is, of course, if you are willing to accept these orders."

"I am, Your Highness, but isn't there a problem? I'm only a Corporal; how can I get permission from my superiors? I mean, avoiding fatigues and that."

The case was opened once again, and something small and gleaming was extracted from it. At that moment, the wolfess grabbed one of my wrists with a strong grip, and brandished an implement with a long, sharp needle, which she stabbed into my finger. As the blood welled, she took the item from the Marshal, and held my paw over it.

I saw that it was a small, circular badge. A tiny enameled Royal Cipher appeared at the top, and set within a ring in the middle was a whitish stone. As my blood dripped onto the stone, and the wolfess murmured a complex formulation in Gramerye, the colour of the stone changed to a deep purple.

The curious thing was, the gem seemed to absorb my blood like a sponge. It took about twelve drops, before my paw was let go.

"Your superiors, I should say your nominal superiors, where you will be posted will be advised that you are acting under orders from GHQ. However, if there are other furs, be they military or civilian, that refuse to do your bidding, you are to show them that badge. It legalizes any action that you may take as being an action of the Crown. Any action, of any kind. You may disobey even the orders of a general with that authorization, though you better have a very good reason for doing so, in that case."

The wolfess handed me the badge. As I held it up, there was a brief, sharp flash of light and a faint chime.

"That will only happen when you wield the badge, Corporal, no one else. Your blood ties it to you, and only you."

The Marshal handed me a small leather case, into which I fitted the badge. "Use that authority very sparingly, Corporal."

"Yes, sir."

He locked up his despatch case again, after depositing his spectacles in it. "You've visited the memorial to your family's regiment, I suppose, in the Hall of Ancestors?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Sergeant Wing had suggested I go there."

"Well, in some ways, Corporal, I hope your name doesn't end up there, at least for the reasons they're there. If at all possible, I hope you never have to live up to the Elfhame Regiment's motto. I'd like you to have a nice, long life after I'm gone."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Attention!"

I stood.

"Right face. Dismiss!"

On the steps of the Royal Castle, I was met by Sergeant Wing, who indicated with his swagger stick a six-ant coach that was loading not too far away.

"'at's th' early afternoon coach t' Mossford, lad. Report in to the CO with this." He handed me a sealed scroll-tube. "Yer kit's all packed away, an' ye'll 'ave th' King's Orders fer meals an' inn stays on th' journey. Oh, an' between th' two of us, lad, I arranged fer a bit of borrowin', mind, from th' Memorial." Seeing my look of surprise, he gave me a grin and a gentle dig with his stick.

"All right an' above board, lad, don't y'worry. 'at were still Army property, it were. But I says t'myself, Toby, it's best young Winterbough 'as th' kind of weapons 'is folks 'ave always 'ad. Also drew a few score arrers outta store, an' if ye'd like more, drop me a line. Crying shame th' Army doesn't 'ave the archers it uster."

I nodded, and gave him a salute. He saluted back.

"Good luck, lad."

As the coach-fur began to whip up his ant-team, I had to hurry to secure my place. I got there just as the coach started to turn around, and head off on the Great Eastern Road.

A rather bulky badger sitting across from me looked up from a scroll he was reading. He harrumphed in a friendly fashion.

"This was left with me by someone's servant. I was supposed to give it to you. Here you are, lad."

The sweet persimmons were very nice for a journey. Someone had guessed, correctly, that I would get hungry. But then, I suppose, it would have been part of her training to serve the Marshal.