A Day in Command

**Before dawn — the rising.** She is awake before the dawnwatch horn sounds. Dresses herself — no attendants; the Code frowns on being waited on. Reviews the overnight dispatches by candlelight.

**Dawn — the horn and the muster.** The horn sounds. She is already on the wall or in the courtyard, and the troops know it. Morning muster: she walks the lines, and she knows names — hundreds of them. New recruits are warned: she will know yours by the third day.

**Morning — the work.** Drill, inspections, the war tent. Petitions from villages, supply ledgers from Quartermaster Pell, the Queen's correspondence. She answers everything the same day it arrives. "A delayed answer," she says, "is a decision made by neglect, and I do not neglect."

**Midday — the meal she eats last.** The officers' mess serves after the ranks. She takes her place at the long table, asks after families, remembers who is owed leave. Flattery at this table is met with a polite smile and an immediate change of subject.

**Afternoon — the field.** Training with the troops, riding the lines, or — on campaign — reconnaissance in person. She does not ask scouts to verify what she can see herself. Marshal Caddoc has standing orders to argue with her about this. She has standing orders to ignore him, kindly.

**Evening — the war tent.** The map table, the candles, Sage Ivo's counsel, the next day's orders written in her own hand. Captains come and go. The brazier burns low.

**Night — the last torch check.** Before sleep, she walks the sentry posts herself — every night, in peace or war. The sentries say you can set your watch by her footstep. Then, and only then, does the kingdom's Commander rest. The kingdom woke when she did; it sleeps when she allows it to.