Of course, all of that was overlooked by His Majesty when it came to Lord Tekker and Sir Grayne, who were like fire and a parched forest. Those two were every reason nobles and knights were expected to maintain a certain distance, but why should King Rorlen care?
Leaving the bedroom, he went to the front room, where breakfast had been arranged on the table. He'd just poured ale for himself and Cimar when a knock came at his door.
He opened it and bowed slightly as he stepped back to let Cimar into the room.
Cimar had traded his armor for his more familiar hose and long tunic, though he'd retained his heavy cloak against the cold, drafty castle. It was blue, trimmed and lined in silvery-white fur that almost perfectly matched his hair, making him look like some sprite sent to mete out justice—or mischief—on behalf of the Goddess herself.
"That breakfast looks delicious," Cimar said.
Normally breakfast was a lowkey affair, usually just gruel and hot ale before setting to work for the day. Even in the royal castle, there was rarely more than that. Growing up, Davrin hadn't thought anything of it. He ate his gruel, set to work, and stopped like everyone else at midday for the main meal.
But years of schooling, where a big breakfast was served and midmeal was small, if not skipped or missed entirely due to classes, had changed his habits. Living abroad had only separated him further from the practice, and even now that he was home, he preferred a strong meal at the start of the day, no matter the odd looks it gained him.
"It does," he agreed, and passed over a cup of hot ale before settling into his seat with his own cup. He sipped the ale, which was heavily spiced and fruity, then set about smearing pieces of bread with butter and honey, filling a bowl of porridge with nuts, dried fruit, and cheese. "Thank you again for helping me. I will never be able to repay you."
"There is nothing to repay, my lord." Cimar took a sip of ale. "As I said before, Ballior was my friend too. That aside, I am a knight, and it is my duty and honor to serve those in need. I may spend my days with books, but they were not the reason I became a knight. They're simply where I've always proven to be most useful."
Davrin stuffed his mouth with cheese to prevent injudicious words slipping out. Now was not the time. "So what do you think our esteemed monarch will choose for the quests?"
Cimar grimaced and traced the rim of his cup as he replied, "I'm afraid to think about it, frankly. The frost festival is just weeks away, so that restricts what he can choose—and the weather limits it even further." He snorted. "He will certainly give Grayne something easy, and me something difficult."
Rolling his eyes, Davrin refilled both their cups, then settled back in his seat. "His Majesty prefers to combine problems where he can, so I suspect you will be sent to deal with the bandits in the mountain. I know the problem has finally gotten bad enough he was getting ready to send out royal troops to deal with it. Cheaper to send you, and either get a lot of dead bandits or a canceled challenge."
"Oh, Goddess, I think you're right." Cimar groaned, drained his ale, and set the cup down with a hard clack on the table. "I suppose at least we will be rid of those damned bandits."
Davrin's shoulders tightened. "Just do not get yourself killed. I want justice for Ballior, but not at the cost of your life. Of anyone's life." His shoulders slumped. "Perhaps this was selfish of me. I—"
"You are doing what the law requires, and right by your oldest and dearest friend. I am a knight, trust that I know what that entails and that I made my choice."
Bowing his head slightly, Davrin replied, "Of course, my apologies. I intended no disrespect. I'm sorry I gave it."
Cimar lifted a hand. "Not at all. I'm honored you'd worry so over me, my lord."
"I think you can leave off the formalities, at least when it's only the two of us. Please, Davrin is fine."
"As you wish. So quest is likely to be bandits, the endurance I feel will be seeing who can last the longest in the freezing cold, which leaves only the duel."
"He's going to cheat," Davrin said.
Cimar snorted and shrugged. "I admit I'm not looking forward to it, but I can handle him."
"I never doubted that. Now, enough grim talk. Enjoy your food. Will you be going to the archives for the rest of the day?"
"No, I need to finish readying the rest of my equipment and run my horses through their paces. If I am going questing, I'll need my palfrey and rouncey ready. They've not done much but run me through fields the past few months, though I always try to make sure it's good exercise, not merely token." He chuckled softly. "I will also need to drag my errant squire out of whatever tavern he's fallen asleep in."
Davrin quirked a brow. "You have a squire? Who's.. a drunkard?"
"Drunkard, no. He simply likes to have fun and end his nights with anyone willing and eager." Cimar smiled. "He's a bit of a brat, but he's got a good heart and works hard. So I let him go off to play when he can. We were scheduled to escort a shipment of books from Golden Apple Abbey next week. It would have been a brutal journey."
Wincing, Davrin replied, "Yes, that road is more bandit than paving stone. I didn't realize you went on those journeys as the armed guard."
Cimar's mouth quirked in a mischievous little grin. "Like I've said before, everyone forgets I'm a knight, and I make no production of it, because I do believe in the credo that ours is to serve, not to grandstand."
"You do yourself, your spurs, and your fellows proud," Davrin said softly. "Ballior would be humbled to have you fight in his honor."
Cimar rose and bowed slightly. "The honor is mine." He started to leave, then stilled and turned back. "There was one more thing, my lord—I mean, Davrin."
Davrin stood as well and moved slightly closer to him. "What's that?"
"What they said about my wife and needing money." Cimar's mouth flattened. "I'm not doing this for money. I don't need money, whatever rumors are floating around the castle. Rosa didn't leave me; we parted on good terms, as friends. She desperately wanted children, and between the two of us, we could never manage it. So we parted, and she's found a fine farmer. They're quite happy together. I visit them every couple of months. We've never been able to legally end our marriage, since we must have His Majesty's permission for that, and he won't grant it, but we've all done the best we can."
"I'm glad." Davrin gripped his shoulder briefly. "You owed me no explanations, and your integrity was never in doubt."
Cimar replied with a fleeting smile, then bowed again before departing, the door closing quietly behind him.
Davrin sighed, scrubbed his face to banish all the bothersome feelings drive him to insanity, and went to go tackle more of the mountain-high pile of correspondence that had been awaiting his arrival.
CHAPTER TWO
It took Cimar an hour to find his squire, and most of that was walking into and through town and being forced to stop and chat with people.
Thankfully, Leonine was right where Cimar had expected to find him: at the Golden Rooster (called the Gold Cock by locals), in the innkeeper's bed, snoring softly where he was cuddled between the innkeeper and his wife.