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It took Adrien Augustine a full week to assemble his plan for the road, a full hour to present it to the mustered legions, and only seconds for Kat to decide the Third Century was in deep, deep trouble.

The plan he’d laid out would take the entire span of the summer to complete—which seemed terrifyingly fast for a piece of infrastructure meant to leave a permanent mark on the fabric of the kingdom.

All seven legions would participate, thousands upon thousands of soldiers distributed over the seven hundred miles that spanned from the Mouth of Hell’s puckered remains clear back to Rusta, the capital.

The project would culminate in a victory ball thrown in the prince’s honor, and the very next morning, he’d grant a full release from service to every soldier who requestedit.

It did little to soften the prospect of months of hard labor in the full glory of summer, and the chatter rumbling beneath Adrien’s token-assisted oration bent clearly toward dissatisfaction.

And that was before the second assembly, where Mira announced that the Third Century would be singled out as a special security detail, traveling alongside the prince’s entourage.

For a moment, this had seemed to cheer them—and then their centurion had clarified that they would still be digging as they went, alongside providing nonstop coverage of the prince’s camp.

Kat felt guiltier and guiltier as the mood among the century only got more sour.

If she hadn’t made such a spectacle of herself, none of them would be in this mess.

Worse, it seemed Mira wouldn’t be announcing why the prince needed such extensive coverage.

Kat knew that Adrien wanted an uncomplicated, joyous, definitive end to the war, but if a Lesser Lord struck them now, the century wouldn’t know what hit them.

Without that context, the logistical nightmare looked horribly unjustified—making it harder and harder for Kat and Emory to play along with their comrades’ confusion.

“You’re sure the prince has evidence there are…” Emory muttered over his shoulder.

“Swear on the Seal,” Kat replied just as low, but she needn’t have worried about being overheard. Mira had just clarified that they would be performing this additional surveillance at no extra pay, and the protesting cries that ensued provided ample cover.

Interestingly, Faye Laurent had joined her for this address, looking increasingly distressed by the way things were getting out of hand.

It seemed that Adrien’s friends were all assigned to managerial roles across the legions, which Kat was sure the centurions were just thrilled about.

But, she supposed, out of the four young nobles, Faye was likely to be the least intrusive.

Thus far, she’d only smiled pleasantly and nodded along to everything Mira said.

Adrien probably could have replaced her with a houseplant and gotten the same effect.

“This is horseshit,” Carrick groaned, drawing a sympathetic look from Sawyer. “You don’t need thousands of people to build a road. We’re not even trained in…what’s it called? Masonry?”

“If it’s going to be stone,” Javi offered helpfully.

“Where the fuck is he going to get the stone for it?” Carrick seethed. “Does one of his tokens let him shit it out?”

“I have one final announcement,” Mira thundered over the crowd. “Katrien, would you please join me up here?”

For the second time this week, Kat felt the entire century’s eyes on her.

It was barely a mercy that she was just as confused as they were, and it took a searing couple of seconds for her brain to catch up to Mira’s order and comply with it.

She eased past Emory, who shot her a worried glance, stepped out of the ranks, and crossed to the base of Mira’s assembly platform.

Most of the officers mounted it with the assistance of a token, but Kat had to haul herself up gracelessly on the struts, drawing an ominous creak from the structure as she rolled out over the top and got to her feet.

“There she is. Let’s have a hand for the hinge spear of the first decade and the spectacle she put on this week,” Mira said, holding out her palms with a rare showman’s flourish.

Kat took in the century’s applause with a wave, struggling to tamp down the flush building in her cheeks. Her own decade added a few appreciative whoops and hollers, and she found an anchor in the encouraging smile Emory flashed her way.

“As you might have noticed, that spectacle caught the prince’s eye. And so I thought if Katrien truly wants to represent our century in the eyes of our future ruler, why not make it official? As of today, Katrien will be serving as a special liaison between you and your leadership.”

Isn’t that Mobbert’s job? Kat wondered, her distressed gaze flicking to where Mira’s strange little cousin was joining the fresh wave of applause.

Mira had always been profoundly unfussy about administration, content to let Mobbert handle all her particulars.

Kat didn’t know how to handle any of her particulars.

She knew how to march in formation and stick evil with her spear.

“If any of you have a grievance with this new state of affairs, I encourage you to raise it with Katrien, and she’ll make sure your voice is heard,” Mira said.

Ah. There it was. Mira was all about what she termed “practical discipline.” An ass-kicking for Emory that would reinforce the combat principles she wanted drilled into him.

A latrine rotation for Elise so that while she was contemplating the mistake of spying on the high command, she was also making herself useful.

And now this. A “promotion” for Kat that put her squarely in the sights of the rest of her century, since she’d made such a spectacle of herself yesterday, that pulled double duty by keeping that ire off her centurion’s back.

Kat had to admire the efficiency, if nothing else.

“The prince will be mobilizing his camp in three days’ time. Until then, we’ll stay on the same job rotation. Which means all of you already know what you should be doing. Dismissed.”

Kat, in fact, had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Mira caught her eye and beckoned sharply before dropping from the edge of the platform and taking off toward the officer tents.

Kat clambered down after her, once again wondering why her light token couldn’t be a lightening token. She had to jog to catch up to Mira, but once there, she could keep pace with the centurion’s shorter strides easily. “Centurion?” she hazarded. “Not to say that I’m not grateful, but—”

“Then don’t say it. Be grateful. Yes, this is happening because this little misadventure is all your fault, but you should see this as an opportunity.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, centurion.”

“Well, I’m of two minds about it. On the one hand, the prince just happened to see a woman at the right time and decided to totally upend my command as a result.

Nothing we can do about that. But on the other, he was right to notice you.

After all, you’re the only other Aurean in this century.

You have serious prospects. It’s time we did something about it. ”

“Oh,” Kat said, blinking. “Well. Thank you, centurion.”

“I wasn’t kidding about what I said in front of the assembly,” Mira continued. “You’re in a unique position as an infantry soldier with officer potential, and that makes you uniquely suited to be the bridge between the soldiers and their command.”

Yes, but that sounds like a lot of work, Kat stopped herself from arguing.

Her brain had latched onto the words officer potential, turning them over and over in her head like a neat rock she’d found in a river.

Like Emory had reminded her on the edge of the training field, a single Aurean token was enough to qualify her for command.

But her pauper’s token was also enough to separate her from some of her comrades who had no chance at all to attain such a rank.

It was exactly the kind of opportunity her father had encouraged her to seek out.

Something she could bring back to the forge, some proof the years she’d been drafted hadn’t been a waste.

A chance to wring something not from metal but from her own inherent talents.

It had been a fanciful dream—one that immediately plummeted to the bottom of her priorities when the true grind of the war started.

Maybe in peacetime, it was the moment to try for some proper ambition. To invest, the way her superiors did, in the prospects her token had granted her.

“I’ll give it my best,” Kat said as they approached Mira’s tent. In daylight, she could almost pretend that it was unfamiliar, that she hadn’t experienced a moment of brief, unfettered, true ambition under its shelter.

Mira beckoned her and Mobbert inside, Kat trying to act like she’d never seen the interior before and Mobbert going straight to the desk in the entryway that Kat knew from personal experience had a slight wobble in one of its legs.

“See that you do,” her centurion replied with a rare, razor-edged grin.

“Now let’s talk about the particulars of your new role. ”

So much for ambition. So much for trying her best. Barely an hour into her so-called opportunity, Kat was already seeing it for the curse it was.

She’d tried to grab dinner. Tried to make it through a hearty serving of some of the finest slop the kitchens had cobbled together in ages, tried to savor the miracle that was not having your supply lines raided by demons every day and the additional miracle of the prince’s presence guaranteeing an abundance of spice not usually featured in the infantry’s staple rations.

She’d gotten one single bite into her meal before the first aggrieved soldier threw himself down on her decade’s bench and began voicing an onslaught of concerns about their marching orders.