“Thank you, Lord.”
“Think nothing of it. Good work is to be rewarded. Failure is—well, why don’t you and this fine young gentleman here next to you ride out and bring back your hapless former associate?” At a gesture from their master, the two riders turned their mounts and galloped off in the direction of the outer gate.
Peregriff was uncertain. “Lord, he is not dead?”
“Of course not. What do you think of me, Peregriff? He had to be punished, and of course he is dismissed from the troop, but I would not kill someone simply because they proved unable to live up to the standards set for the guard. Besides, the man has a wife and infant. Having only the standards of the lower classes to aspire to, they have done nothing wrong. Therefore I will not deprive them of this man’s company, however graceless it may be.”
Walking back to the front of the troop, he eyed them from beneath his helmet for a long moment. Hands on hips, he addressed them prior to departing.
“You are a credit to your countrymen and to all of Ehl-Larimar! I am proud to call you members of my personal household, and am confident that should the time ever come that it is necessary to place my life in your hands, then it will be in the finest care available anywhere in the world. I salute you!” Raising one mailed hand, he held it, palm outward, toward them.
Lances rose, the small gold and blue pennants secured just below where blade met shaft dancing in the slight breeze that always blew from the mountain heights down toward the sea. Thus dismissed, they broke ranks and prepared to return to their barracks.