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Sumbria I declare this meeting opened."
    "So noted."
    The second came from farther down the table, and the two-hundred-and-forty-first meeting of Sumbria's ruling body had begun.
    With his three thousand blades, Prince Mannicci ruled Sumbria's council. In some kingdoms, such as Lomatra, the councils elected the weakest of their number as their prince, knowing the council's votes could overrule his decrees. In other states, a single family held troops enough to dominate the entire balance of power. Here in Sumbria, the balance remained more delicate; the Mannicci family could not quite hold power on its own. The prince needed the support of other houses, who ebbed and flowed into vot-ing blocks as various needs arose.
    Senior among those voting blocks were the nobles allied to Blade Captain Ilego. Unable to wrest the crown from Mannicci's hands, Ilego instead managed to act as a thorn in his prince's side.
    And so, Mannicci schemed. The bride-price paid for his daughter's hand would be taken in trained soldiers, not in gold; votes enough to give sudden iron to his reign.
    Outside the room, the tinkling music of the victory ball could be faintly heard. Squaring thick yellow papers against the table, the prince briskly consulted his agenda.
    "Gentlemen, our first business: the campaign spoils. Twelve blade companies were deployed into active ser-vice. I propose a standard division, with double shares for the active contingents, and single shares for companies remaining in the city for garrison. How does it please?"
    At the far end of the table, Ilego-slim, lean, and calm-raised a hand to stroke at his mustache.
    "The brunt of the fighting was borne by hippogriff squadrons. Surely we should indemnify those comman-ders who have lost fliers and breeding stock."
    "A reasonable suggestion." Old Orlando Toporello, heavy-handed captain of a thousand blades, leaned for-ward across the tabletop. "Reasonable, until we remem-ber that Blade Captain Ilego has the largest investment in these aerial novelties." The old man slammed a hand sharply down against the boards. "Let him feather his nest on someone else's profit, and not ours!"
    "A word!" At the far end of the table, a noble raised his hand. "A word upon the subject of 'innovations.'
    I wish to query the continued and erroneous valuation of mere handgunners as the equivalent share-value as crossbow-men and pavisiers!"
    An instant furor arose. The smoke powder contention had already been shelved a dozen times before.
    The pro-ponents of the crossbow now rose to bellow at the top of their lungs as the firework enthusiasts matched them tirade for tirade. Cappa Mannicci heaved a sigh and hid beneath his papers as the heated debate flared into an outright brawl.
    "Innovations are our life's blood! How can you not see the value…"
    "An arquebus is a weapon for a fool! How are we prof-ited by missiles that go only fifty paces range?"
    "And within that fifty paces, they will pierce…"
    "Pierce what? The cheeks of your bum?"
    "… they will pierce through the stoutest…!"
    "Order! Order!"
    A mace banging on the much-scarred tabletop had lit-tle effect; only a bellow from Mannicci's sergeants restored order to the melee. As a sudden silence fell, Sumbria's prince blew out a sigh through his mustache and tilted his mace-of-office toward another man.
    "Blade Captain Zuro has the floor."
    Not, perhaps, the best of choices; Zuro was scarcely a sol-dier at all, and devoted most of his days to collecting ancient knickknacks and refurbishing his library. Tall, white haired, and sporting a mustache almost six inches long, old Zuro puffed himself up like a rooster before his peers.
    "Gentlemen, I think it would be a sad mistake were we to dismiss smoke powder too lightly. A young man from Lomatra whom I met outside, assures me that these… 'guns' are the future. In his sketchbook he carries some of the most astonishing designs…"
    "Good!" Orlando Toporello hammered both his palms onto the table with