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The plot starts because of a misunderstanding about eldritch inscriptions. The protagonist, a tormented but brilliant general who has brass buttons, ends up in a tinsmith's with a caring mentor.

Higher Marshall Five Star Klock paused before the Cliffs of Agate and Doom, and stared down at the tablet in his hand. He frowned at it, scritched at the stubble along the length of his jaw, and then back up at the cliffs. They reared up like curtains descending from Heaven, a beach of black stones about their base. Higher Marshall Five Star Klock was standing on this beach, the ocean booming and booming behind him, washing up to his heels.

Turning, he stared out at where his galleon rode the waves, anchored and waiting. He frowned again, and sighed. There was supposed to be an entrance into the lost and forgotten tomb of Higher Most Up Up Seven Star Lopidi in the cliff face. There was supposed to be a stairway cut into the cliff leading up to it, and the Ultimate Weapon contained within. Higher Marshall Five Star Klock squinted up at the agate cliffs. Nothing.

Scratching his nose, he turned the tablet in his hand upside down. The runes cut into the stone could be read differently if so held, though their meaning became increasingly abstruse. He’d been certain this was the correct interpretation. Had staked two years of research and traveling across the Oceans of Frib to reach this lonely shore. The Great War that Never Ended would be unrecognizable by this point. Positions would have changed. Territories shifted, new commanders appointed. Uniforms with different colors, maybe, new and more fashionable cuts.

He’d have to go back to it empty handed. Higher Marshall Five Star Klock had been standing on the beach for two long and lonely hours, unwilling to admit his mistake. But there was nothing for it. Everybody on the galleon was most definitely well aware of his failure. Had probably been watching him through their telescopes, sniggering into their knitting as they waited. The most illustrious and successful Higher Marshall Five Star in recent memory, and here he stood like a putz.

In a sudden fit of anger he turned and chucked the three thousand year old tablet into the waves. It felt good for about a minute, and then he sighed once more and waded out into the water to retrieve it.

A year passed. Higher Marshall Four Star Klock was back in the Third Home City of Illumpti, recently demoted following a protracted investigation into his misappropriation of funds and failure. He’d had to trade in his big hat for a slightly smaller one, and the lack of weight on his head irked him. Walking through the streets, he fiddled at his new uniform. Two weeks and he’d have to go back to the Front, or one of them, to oversee the planning of the implementation of the incipience of strategizing over how to think about the next step in declaring an attack. Bollocks.

What he hated, more than the small hat, were the large brass buttons down the front of his navy blue jacket. Each bore the face of a Higher Uppity Up Up Ten Star Senex, each of whom had just spent the past three months denigrating him. He picked and plucked at them and then, in a sudden bout of rebellion, ducked into a tinsmith shop, determined to have them replaced, consequences be damned.

The shop was low ceilinged, dusky and dark, gloomy and dim, poorly lit, hard to see in. Tin cups hung from the ceiling and tinkled like wind chimes. The whole place smelled suspiciously of pickle juice. Suddenly leery, Higher Marshall Four Star Klock paused, considered stepping back out. But a familiar form arrested his escape. It was Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. His old mentor, the most revered man in the world, the originator of war, its most dexterous practicator. The old man was bent over an old tin plate, examining an etching on its reverse side.

“Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku,” said Higher Marshall Four Star Klock, drawing himself to attention as he did so. Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku turned around, peered through the gloom, the dim interior of the store, and his craggy old face split into a warm smile.

“Well, well, well,” said Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. “If it isn’t my young protégé, Higher Marshall Five Star Klock.”

Higher Marshall Four Star Klock felt his face color. “Actually, sir, I have been demoted to Four Star rank.”

“Oh?” asked Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. “I am sorry to hear that. Your fault?”

“Yes sir,” said Klock. “I failed to find the Ultimate Weapon. Two years and precious resources wasted on my account.”

“Ah well,” said Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. “There’s always another day in which to fight and win glory. Tell me, what do you think of this plate? Winsome?”

Higher Marshall Four Star Klock peered at it. “Yes sir. Very winsome.”

“Oh good,” said Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. “I do so like things that win. I’ll buy it. Come over for dinner when you regain your rank?”

“Of course, sir,” said Klock. “It would be an honor. Unless death finds me first.”

“With your shield or on it,” said Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku. “Right? Am I right? Eh? On your shield or on it? Get it?”

“Of course sir. Very good, sir. Well, congratulations on the plate. I’m off to war then, I suppose.”

“Right-oh! Bon chance, and better luck finding the Ultimate Weapon next time.”

“Thank you, sir. Most kind. Most, most kind. To me, that is.”

“Kabosh it. Not a tittle or a thing to be considerated. You’ll do fine! Now, off with you. Go do some warmongering.”

“Ok. Ciao.”

Higher Upper Xmax Up Up Upped Cubed Galaxy Star Jibooku smiled vaguely, raised a hand in parting, and turned around to continue examine the plate. Higher Marshall Four Star Klock stepped back out into the sunshine, buttons forgotten, and trained his eyes on the closest horizon, and smiled.