One evening, while the soldiers were settling into their tents and preparing for the morning’s inspection, Aidan was sitting on a log outside his tent. He had four logs placed in a square to allow for longer conversations. A fire burned in a small circle of stones in front of them.

Two men he considered friends were sitting on different logs. All three of them held a mug of decent ale. To cover a smile at something one man said, Aidan sipped his ale.

For the past half an hour, he had listened with no little amusement as Sebastian grilled Pelion with a series of incredulous questions about how Pelion’s people had maintained their people’s greatest secret for so long. But after the Disclosure, the voluntary sharing of their people’s long-running deception, many leaders were grappling with the new knowledge.

 Now that Aidan and Sebastian had completed the equivalent of another two years of training under Pelion’s tutelage and while in the field, they both had graduated, in a small but meaningful ceremony, from the Academy of War. Aidan was also officially a Bladedancer. So the relationship between students and teachers had already been evolving in more collegial directions. Sharing the experiences of several ferocious battles had quickened the process.

“But he’s the leader of your entire military,” Sebastian had been saying. “In my father’s kingdom, he would be a prince, most likely, or a duke, at a minimum. What do you mean that ‘He has no status beyond what we give him due to his skills and his ability as a teacher’?” How can that be true?”

“Let me tell you something about Gillian Whiterose, my brothers,” Pelion said to Sebastian, but glanced over at Aidan to include him in the exchange. “He is the fiercest democrat among all of my people. Even though our titles are a part of the Great Deception, and therefore have no meaning to us, he refused to take one, even to pretend to have one. He is willing to exercise authority in our military, but he insists on a regular title—he’s officially a general. He also insists that that our rank system promote solely on merit, in so far as is possible. Our wealthy citizens cannot buy a commission like the Empire’s nobles or most kingdoms’ nobles can. Anyone who hold the rank of captain and up must have at least some fighting experience. When conflict with an empire or duchy isn’t available, suppression patrols against pirates, bandits, or creatures like the pokkirs will do. The idea of selling commissions surfaces periodically because fielding the number of fighters we have is expensive for a polity as small as ours. Every time it happens, though, Gillian squashes the idea.”

“Unbelievable,” Sebastian muttered.

Pelion shrugged. “Even we are surprised that the Deception held for so long. If your mage Randolph had not pushed on the issue, the secret might be enduring even now. But do not overlook the advantages to you created by Gillian’s staunch egalitarianism.”

“Advantages?” “You’ve been worried about how other kingdoms will react to your Assembly, to your Republic. Now, you no longer need to worry about your southwest flank at all. Between us and Port Liberty, we can quell any grumbling from the Free Barons.” Pelion asserted, “I tell you truly: nothing you can do that gives power to the people will make him uneasy. My people believe in freedom and liberty.”