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Duke Eastshare’s, I mean—firsthand. When I can actually ask questions, maybe even make a few suggestions in His Majesty’s name. It’s hard to do that if all you’re doing is watching a vision.”
    “I can see where that would be true,” Green Valley agreed. He didn’t seem at all upset by the notion of Merlin’s “evaluating” his progress in his new assignment, the seijin noted.
    “And the second reason, almost equally important,” Merlin admitted, “is to get me close enough to Eastshare to... interact with him.”
    This time, Green Valley only nodded. Merlin wasn’t especially surprised—the baron had always been an astute and diplomatic fellow. He understood that, even with him, Merlin could scarcely come right out and say “They want me to see whether or not Eastshare is a traitor... too.”
    The good news was that Merlin was almost certain Eastshare wasn’t. The bad news was that, despite all the seijin ’s “unfair” advantages, Merlin was only almost certain he wasn’t. And, unfortunately, the fact that the duke was effectively Empress Sharleyan’s uncle by marriage, that he was the brother- in- law of the recently deceased Duke of Halbrook Hollow, and that he’d been Halbrook Hollow’s senior general, second in command of the Royal Chisholmian Army, for the better part of fifteen years, meant that “almost certain” wasn’t nearly good enough.
    Not in the wake of Halbrook Hollow’s treason.
    “May I ask what your impressions have been so far?” Green Valley asked politely. “In a general sense, of course. I wouldn’t want to ask you to get too specific about any particularly deserving ex- Marines—assuming there are any of those around, of course—and embarrass me with your effusive praise,” he added, and Merlin snorted.
    “You know, My Lord,” the seijin said in an almost meditative tone, “I’ve always heard that a certain . . . brashness, one might say, is an integral part of any Marine’s personality. You wouldn’t happen to know how that rumor might have gotten started, would you?”
    “Me?” Green Valley widened his eyes innocently. “I’m not a Marine, Seijin Merlin! I’m an officer in the Imperial Army. In fact, I’ve got a written commission around here somewhere to prove it. So what would a bluff, honest, naturally modest Army officer know about Marines and their overinflated self-images?”
    “Oh, an excellent point,” Merlin agreed. “I can’t imagine what could have come over me to ask such a question.”
    “I should certainly hope not,” Green Valley said a bit severely as he picked up the wine bottle and topped off Merlin’s cup once more.
    “Well, at any rate, in answer to your question, my impressions so far have been just about universally good.” Merlin’s tone and expression had both turned serious once again. “To be honest, I hadn’t really realized quite how good the Chisholmian Army was. I should have, I suppose, given the role it played under King Sailys. Not to mention keeping Queen Sharleyan on the throne—and alive—after Sailys’ death, of course. I mean, two- thirds of its senior officers are veterans of Sailys’ campaigns, after all, and it’s obvious Eastshare—and Halbrook Hollow, for that matter—did an excellent job of training and equipping them in the first place.”
    Green Valley nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful, and Merlin shrugged.
    “Obviously,” he continued, “their equipment hasn’t been as good as what we took to Corisande with us—but, then, no one’s has, when you come down to it. And just as you’ve undoubtedly been discovering, their formations and drill are all oriented around tactics which have just become obsolete. But, again, they’re scarcely alone in that. Given the weapons available to everybody a few years ago, my impression is that Eastshare’s troops could at least hold their own against any of the mainland armies, man- for- man, and probably kick their arses for them, for that