Cosuas took this news with a nod.
"I never figured for that," he said. "I wasn't sure you were mine, you certainly don't look like me. Thought your mother got knocked up by some other man."
"Why did you save her? Why didn't you hand her over to the Brotherhood like you were meant to?"
Cosuas wiped a hand over his bald head. The breeze was cooling, but the sun was strong and both men were sweating in their armour.
"What can I say?" Cosuas said. "I loved your mother. I didn't know what the Brotherhood would do with her, but I knew none of the poor bitches sent to the Grand Precincts came back. I didn't want that to happen to her."
"And during all those years we campaigned together, you never said a word about it."
Cosuas shrugged.
"It wasn't my place. If your mother wanted her secrets, who was I to stop her? What good would it have done?"
Ullsaard crossed his arms and nodded in agreement.
"That's the past," he said. "We need to talk about the future. Don't fight me."
Cosuas said nothing.
"I know you like to see yourself as the simple general, but you can fucking count!" snapped Ullsaard, stepping towards his mentor. "I've got ten legions; you've got what? Four? Five?"
"Four and a half," Cosuas replied. "In a superior defensive position."
"Bollocks! You could be on a fucking mountain and you couldn't even those odds."
"If you're so sure, why are we talking?"
"Don't let me beat you," said Ullsaard. "What's Lutaar to you, anyway? He's just some cunt whose family killed yours. What do you owe him?"
"My allegiance," growled Cosuas. He waved a hand angrily at Ullsaard. "That's your problem, you traitorous shit. Your word is worthless. What have you done? You think you've solved something? All you've done is reduce the empire to a bauble that men can scrap and claw at each other over."
Cosuas took a few paces away and turned on Ullsaard, spittle flying from his lips.
"Don't you fucking get it, Ullsaard? You've broken everything! What happens the next time a general doesn't like his orders and decides to get even? What happens when a governor thinks he might just raise a legion or two of his own to settle an argument with his neighbour? Askh, the Crown, the Blood, none of it means anything if you take it for yourself."
"I am of the Blood," said Ullsaard. "I have been denied my inheritance."
"That's funny, I thought you were spawned and raised by a court whore in Enair, and succeeded with your own blood and fucking sweat. Doesn't that count for anything?"
Ullsaard would have laughed if it had been anyone else saying these things.
"It's that same blood and sweat that's got me to where I am now. I have earned this day, friend. I will become king."
Cosuas turned his back again. Ullsaard called out to him.
"You don't have to join me. Just don't get in my way. There's no need for you to get involved. Let me pass, march your troops back down the Greenwater and spend the rest of your life by the sea. I don't fucking care, do whatever you want to do, just don't make me destroy you. You don't deserve that."
"You want to do something for me?" said Cosuas. He picked up his mace and shield and squared off. "Give me a chance to end this now."
Ullsaard shook his head as the old general beckoned him closer with his shield.
"Why not?" snarled Cosuas. "Afraid?"
"I don't want to kill you," said Ullsaard. "Don't you understand?"
"Why not?" Cosuas said with a shrug. "If I let you do this, what's the point in staying alive? I swore an oath to the king and the empire. That actually means something to me! I can't serve you, and I can't turn the other way and let you destroy Askhor. This is my only choice."
Ullsaard picked up his shield and spear and trudged away.
"Ullsaard!"
The general stopped and looked back. Cosuas was striding down the road after him, mud splashing up his bare legs, caking his sandals. Ullsaard continued to walk away.
"You have to kill me, Ullsaard! It's either now, or your men do it on that hill!"
That stopped him. He looked at Cosuas, saw desperation and hurt in his eyes. Cosuas knew he couldn't stop Ullsaard, but he couldn't bear the shame of failing in his duty. It would be a worse fate for Cosuas to see his army routed and survive with that knowledge.
"All right," said Ullsaard, turning back, hefting his spear into a fighting grip. "I'll make it quick."
"You fucking wish you could!" shouted Cosuas, breaking into a run.
IV
Ullsaard set himself to receive the attack, legs braced apart, shield to the front, spear jutting beside it. Half-a-dozen paces away, Cosuas slid to a stop and stooped, bringing his foot up to fling mud into Ullsaard's face. Spluttering and partially blinded, Ullsaard reacted on instinct, bringing his shield across his body to block the blow he knew was coming from his right.
Cosuas' mace crashed against the shield, driving it down, its lower edge scraping painfully along Ullsaard's shin. Ullsaard stepped back, trying to wipe the mud from his eyes. He caught a shadow of movement to his left and twisted, ducking to his right as he brought up his shield. Another blow crashed down, numbing Ullsaard's arm.
"By fucking Askhos, you're stronger than you look!" spat Ullsaard, clearing his eyes in time to see the head of Cosuas's mace swinging towards his ankles. He sprang back and the mace splashed into the mud.
Ullsaard acted on instinct. He lunged, right arm stretched out. The spear caught Cosuas in the hip, just below his breastplate. Ullsaard pulled the spear free.
"Shit," he said, stepping close to Cosuas. Blood leaked from the wound as Cosuas tripped and fell to his rump. Red flowed into the puddles of the road. The veteran general tried to push himself up but fell to his right side in a splash of mud.
"Finish it!" Cosuas hissed. "You said you'd make it quick."
Ullsaard threw aside his spear and dragged his sword free. He drew his arm back for the killing blow, looming over Cosuas.
The old man's mace crashed into Ullsaard's body and the general felt ribs crack, breath exploding from his body. Staggering back, he stumbled to one knee as Cosuas pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and limped closer, mace in hand.
"Fucking idiot," said Cosuas. "You think I'd make it that easy?"
Two crashing blows rained down on Ullsaard's upraised shield before he forced himself upright. He raised his sword to block the next, but Cosuas's mace smashed into his hand, shattering fingers. The sword tumbled from Ullsaard's mangled fingers. He looked at Cosuas and saw a sneer curling the old general's lips.
"Have it your way," Ullsaard growled as the two circled each other.
Ullsaard fended off a few tentative strikes from his opponent, his gaze flicking to the stream of red pouring down Cosuas's left leg. For all his grit and stubbornness, the old man was already dying. It was just a matter of time.
Cosuas knew it too and swung his mace at Ullsaard's head. Ullsaard angled his shield to deflect the blow and swung back, smashing the rim into Cosuas's brow. Skin ruptured and bone split from the blow. Cosuas fell backwards, eyes glazed, blood pouring from his nostrils.
Panting, his ribs sending stabs of pain through him, Ullsaard cast aside his shield and snatched his sword from the mud with his left hand. Shaking his head woozily, Cosuas weakly raised his shield, but Ullsaard kicked the other man's arm aside and stepped on his wrist, pinning it to the muddy road.
"You tried," Ullsaard said quietly, driving the point of his sword into Cosuas's throat.
The old man spasmed for a moment, back arching as blood erupted from the wound and foamed from his lips. Then he fell still, eyes staring into the blue skies.
Ullsaard let the sword fall from his fingers and dropped to his knees. He bent over Cosuas and laid a hand on his mentor's chest. He kissed Cosuas on each cheek and rocked back, slumping to one side.