Eventually military readiness entered the discussion.
The televox screen changed.
Mobilization tables. Transport capacity. Airfields. Rail corridors. Shipping. Stockpiles. Projected deployment windows.
Some were marked in amber.
Several in red.
Kimia understood enough to dislike the red.
An Ivenmoth defense official explained.
“Previous readiness projections assumed reinforcement schedules beginning no later than fourteen days following authorization.”
The chairman looked toward him.
“Assumed?”
“Yes.”
“What is the current estimate?”
“Seventeen to twenty-one days for comparable strength.”
A human delegate from Arisota asked: “Why?”
“Rolling stock maintenance. Aircraft availability. Shipping allocations. Delayed ammunition transfers. Several units designated for contingency reinforcement have also been assigned internal duties.”
“Can those delays be recovered?”
“Partly.”
“How partly?”
The official consulted another paper.
“Best case, three days.”
“And worst?”
A pause.
“Current estimate.”
Meaning no recovery.
The room moved slightly.
Chairs. Paper. People whispering.
Kimia watched the map.
A timetable had missed reality, so another timetable had been written, then reality would meet that one.
This too was government.
Someone from Beletam argued that increasing readiness prematurely could itself accelerate the crisis.
A Dinnish lord agreed.
A Green Reach delegate did not.
“Readiness is not mobilization.”
The Beletan answered: “It is if the other side treats it as such.”
“Then every military exercise becomes war.”
“No.”
“Then where is the line?”
“If we knew, this meeting would be shorter.”
That produced the first genuine laugh of the morning.
Kimia smiled faintly.
Then Peshtul was called.
The chairman looked toward their section.
“Hetman Vreshkin.”
The yinglet patriarch two seats from Kimia leaned toward his microphone.
He did not consult any paper.
“Our estimate?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the map.
“Expect a major international crisis to unfold.”
A pause.
Then he added: “Possibly.”
The chairman stared.
“Could you elaborate?”
“No.”
A few people laughed.
The hetman looked mildly irritated that they had interpreted him as humorous.
The chairman tried again.
“What factors inform your view?”
The old yinglet sighed, then gave them more.
“Money moving out. Families moving out. Irregular forces getting bolder. Military timetables getting worse while everyone keeps arguing over whezher zhey're necessary. Nobody trusts anyone, but everyone trusts zhe situation not to change quickly.”
He looked toward the map.
“Zhings change quickly.”
That was all.
The chairman accepted it.
The human lord and hetman beside him gave a more elaborate economic assessment.
Insurance. Commodity prices. Merchant behavior. The increasing cost of shipping equipment into certain districts.
Nothing conclusive.
Everything suggestive.
Then the voivode.
Kimia knew what he would say before he began.
Garang's arguments.
Almost exactly.
Different voice. Same arithmetic.
Peshtul could provide materiel. Reserve formations. Transport vehicles. Engineers. Medical units. A limited number of mechanized formations if the House network approved release. Ammunition production could be increased. Air support was more complicated. Rail capacity would become the principal bottleneck once forces reached the Passage and began moving toward embarkation at sea ports.
The voivode said: “You can mobilize soldiers faster than you can move them.”
Someone asked: “How many days?”
He gave three different answers.
Best. Probable. Bad.
No single number existed because no real plan existed as one number.
Kimia listened.
Garang could have been speaking.
An armored division was still a traffic jam with artillery attached until somebody fed it.
She almost heard his voice.
The chairman asked whether Peshtul recommended immediate mobilization.
The voivode answered: “No.”
A slight surprise in the room.
“Why not?”
“Because mobilization is a political decision. I am telling you what happens if you make it.”
That was Garang too.
Kimia felt a small pulse of affection for home.
Professional pessimism.
No drama. Just motorized carriages. Fuel. Food. Roads. Blood.
The hall moved on.
No consensus appeared.
Some wanted preparatory measures immediately. Others argued that even quiet preparations would leak within days. Others said they should leak deliberately. Some argued for deterrence. Others argued that deterrence only worked if the other side believed the preparations were defensive. Someone from Eastwall replied that nobody ever believed preparations were defensive when they occurred across a border.
Kimia's attention drifted.
Not because the discussion was unimportant.
It was too important for too long.
The edges of the room softened.
She looked down again.
Hands.
Good.
Red fur.
Claws.
Sleeve.
Gold stitching.
One. Two. Three.