Rogues and thieves and wakes and wastrels and murderers and worse. These were the men who defended Lady Britannia's honour. The thugs who won battles and broke seiges. General Baird and called him that, once. Thug. And while it had jammed at every tender part of him that keenly felt his social disadvantage, it had also given him strength. He was good at it, he was. Soldiering.

But you didn't have to be stupid to be a thug.

"And what does that make you, aye?"

Not fat. Presumably not idle. Not like any soldier he knew. And he talked too much to be a bleeding Jetti.