“Sir.” I met his eyes for a moment, then looked down.
He spoke heavily. “Sometimes, ambitious young men do foolish things. When they are shown the error of their ways, they apologize.” I looked up suddenly, wondering if he expected an apology from me. But he went on. “I have been tendered such an apology. I have accepted it. Now we go on. In this, trust me,” he said, and he spoke gently but it was not a request. “Least said is soonest mended.”
I leaned back in my chair. I took a breath, sighed it carefully out. In a moment I had mastered myself. I looked up at my king with an open face. “May I ask why you have called me, my king?”
“An unpleasantness,” he said distastefully. “Duke Brawndy of Bearns thinks I should resolve it. He fears what may follow if I do not. He does not think it … political to take direct action himself. So I have granted the request, but grudgingly. Have not we enough to face with the Raiders at our doorstep, without internal strife? Still. They have the right to ask it of me, and I the duty to oblige any who asks. Once more you will bear the King’s justice, Fitz.”
He told me concisely of the situation in Beams. A young woman from Sealbay had come to Ripplekeep to offer herself to Brawndy as a warrior. He had been pleased to accept her, for she was both well muscled and adept, skilled at staves, bows, and blades. She was beautiful as well as strong, small and dark and sleek as a sea otter. She had been a welcome addition to his guard, and soon was a popular figure in his court as well. She had, not charm, but that courage and strength of will that draws others to follow. Brawndy himself had grown fond of her. She enlivened his court and instilled new spirit in his guard.