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This is a battle for the hearts and minds of the rank and file. And if gold will not settle them, then perhaps a taste of home will. It is an old trick of the corsairs of Damantine, to pull into port and seek out the cathouses there when whispers of mutiny are heard.

So I will bring the cathouse here. Let them get a taste of my so-called fabled whorehouse. I have called for the courtesans of the eastern territories. And I confess, I too miss the comforts of home.

I miss my loved ones. So I send for Miranda, my port in the storm. Her mother will come too – they will feel at home among the courtesans, and when they arrive, they can move into my tent. I will triple the guard on that baggage train, so her delivery will be assured. I miss her kind caresses, for she cares for these aging bones.

Now, I count the days. They cannot come soon enough.

I n the days that followed, Jai saw no Gryphon Guard as he patrolled the skies. He only prayed they had seen the fires, and that Erica would keep her promise. The nights came, and went.

And Jai prayed that somewhere, far to the west, a dove with a note attached to its feet would be winging its way to the legion, there to call the Gryphon Guard for aid.

Even so, the path of the legion was clear, and each day, the grass grew shorter, the scent of it stronger until it pervaded Jai’s very dreams. For the legion did not trample it underfoot, but clear cut it with their blades, leaving a wide swathe of devastation.

Jai found it hard to read beyond the pages where his mother’s name was mentioned. It was why he had avoided visiting her grave, back at the Blue Mesa. He hadn’t earned it yet.

To learn she had been Leonid’s favoured courtesan was painful. That the old man had known his mother in that way... it made him wonder if she had been to the palace. If she had once frequented the very bedchamber he had grown up in.

Leonid had lied to him. Never mentioned Jai’s mother, not once. Perhaps he did not know. Even Jai had not known, after all.

The writings were becoming more infrequent, scattered with the detritus of administrative notes, battle plans, sketches and philosophical ramblings. They were coming to a close, and Jai had realised the diary was incomplete. It seemed Leonid had ended the diary on the return from his expedition, and there was no accounting of his great loss against Jai’s father, and the final battle that came some months after.

Jai wished it did. For he could use every clue he could glean from the battles past. For his own was soon to come.

Winter saw the dustcloud first, yawping with excitement, her body shuddering beneath Jai’s thighs. A yellow haze on the horizon, growing larger by the hour, until at last they saw the shimmering silver stain beneath.

Yet the sun was fast setting, and Jai knew that soon, they would make camp. And he had no desire to siege one. He knew from Leonid’s diary where that ended.

‘We ride!’ Jai cried out, as Winter swooped down to within earshot of his generals. ‘Before their walls are raised!’

Jai kept Winter low, grass whipping beneath her belly as they glided at their head, the khiroi rampaging behind, their low moans and grunts accompanied by the yips and cries of his riders.

With the setting sun casting long, dark shadows over the plain, the gleam of the legion’s armour was the only beacon that guided them. He could see the enemy now, individual figures, hastening to form ranks against the coming onslaught, moved by the dull booms of Sabine war drums and the brassy notes of the cornu.

The once-disciplined march was fast becoming a hasty scramble. Banners flapped wildly, the lion and eagle emblems barely distinguishable in the dim light.

‘Ride on!’ Jai roared, drawing his blade. ‘Form up! Form up!’

Winter echoed his cries, her roars reverberating across the open plains, echoed by the war cries of those that followed.

Could it be? Had they caught the legion unawares?

Riders behind Jai echoed his call, signalling the horde to tighten their ranks, preparing for impact. Winter’s wings beat hard, the gusts flattening the grass below. The distance closed rapidly.

The legion’s centurions shouted orders, attempting to form a wall of pikes and shields. The front line was an amalgam of young faces, barely old enough to hold the weight of their shields. Among them, Jai could see those that could easily be the kitchen boys of the palace.

As they braced themselves, Jai could see the fear in their eyes, see their chests heaving. These weren’t battle-hardened soldiers, they were the youth of Latium, thrust into a war they didn’t understand. But they had slaughtered an entire tribe. They were complicit.

A horn sounded, shrill and alarming. The front line of the legion lowered their pikes, aiming the sharp points at the charging khiroi. Jai cursed.

‘Pull away!’ he cried, veering Winter sharply to the left. The khiroi, sensing the change, skidded and swerved, some tumbling but most managing to redirect their momentum. His riders followed him, shouting and signalling to others. The charge dispersed, pulling back just a stone’s throw from the legion’s desperate pike formation.

The expected clash, the clang of metal on metal, and the screams of the dying didn’t come. Already, Jai’s flag bearer was signalling the retreat. Jai circled back, Winter’s wings creaking against the tight turn. Jai guided Winter to land between the two groups, his silhouette cutting a lone figure against the dying light.

Behind him his riders massed for the charge, even as the centurions shuffled their lines straighter, careless of the enemy that stood close enough to shout at.

Finally, the drums halted, the cornu trumpets sputtering to a halt. There was an uneasy silence, save for the panting of the beasts and the soft murmurs of the legion’s ranks.

‘I do not wish to shed the blood of Latium’s sons tonight,’ Jai cried out, addressing the silent legion. ‘Behind you lies the Kashmere Road, just out of sight. Surrender now, swear to never return and you leave safely.’

Silence. Then a javelin, soaring high above the massed shields, landed woefully short of where Jai sat. Another smattering followed, and Winter reared back, as one spattered mud close by.

Jai had his answer. He signalled the return to his flag bearer, and Winter leaped into the air once more. He flew higher, Winter’s wings pumping, until he could see all the legion arrayed, a warped line of silver drawn across the sea of green.

And yet Jai saw as many as five hundred men, separate from the rest behind that line. Most wore little clothing at all, and many held scythes in their hands. These were fettered, brought by the legion to cut their way across the Great Steppe, just as Leonid had used the Huddites, all those years ago. Indeed, Jai would not be surprised if these were Huddites themselves, captives from the battle he had witnessed, all those months ago.

It was shocking to see them here, in this place. They complicated things.

Winter banked her wings, and Jai was glad that the skies were clear, for there was nowhere that the Gryphon Knights might ambush him from above. Indeed, there seemed to be no sign of them, though there were tents and cut poles enough there that they might be hidden.

Jai looked west, and gave a silent thanks to Erica. With any luck, they would not return before the battle was long won.

Now Winter approached his warriors, and Jai could sense her fear, her desire to be upon the ground among friends once more. She too was wary of lurking gryphons, and Jai knew that he had no time to waste. By the morrow, this had to be finished, one way or another.

His own men massed beyond, somehow seeming many more than the legion, spread out and with the bulky forms of the khiroi. Far behind, Jai saw the mammoths, finally catching up to the khiroi, and further still, his infantry, trudging a mile beyond.

Jai hugged Winter’s neck close, as they angled down to return, the wind tearing his hair as they swooped towards the ground.

There was much to do. And only one night to do it in.