Lem watched as Branimir walked away. He felt a mixture of shame and envy in his wake. At that moment he felt that Branimir possessed the qualities which he desired the most. That steadiness in his stride... the strength in his legs. Lem was the senior of the two, but it was Branimir who supported and reassured him. He knew that Branimir respected him, and likewise he respected Branimir - but he envied the younger man nonetheless. At his age surety was a luxury no longer permitted. 

But this solemn day's business would not wait for an old man's anxieties to subside. The foraging parties should already know their remits, and if Branimir was overseeing the digging teams, then that left Lem to co-ordinate with the Duke about where he wanted men for the fortification project. Ah... the Duke. That was one thing that no one had got round to yet, someone still had to inform His Grace that the captain was no longer amongst them. 

Lem began to move through the dissipating crowd of men. The shrill drone of the pipes of Skerry rose up from behind a line of pavilions, despite their funerary tones, the sound brought a thin smile to Lem's lips. Brádach would take any excuse to play the damn things. How he wasn't sick of that awful wailing after so many years Lem couldn't fathom. The man was older than he was for the Blessed's sake! Faintly in the distance he thought he could hear church bells ringing, odd, but fitting perhaps. 

His squire was waiting for him when he parted the still damp canvas.

"Bring around Russell and your own horse, we're off to see Duke Howard."