If—when—Cimar won, they would be more than happy to throw their lot in with ensuring Tekker stayed toppled. King's favorite thug he might be, Tekker was almost universally hated by everyone else, including Her Royal Highness. The moment he showed a weakness they could exploit, that would be the end of Tekker and his nasty little hellhound Grayne.
One of the heralds announced his arrival, and the room fell silent as he entered. That was a first. Hopefully a last, but given the fun had not yet even begun, likely that hope was in vain.
Steeling himself, head up, shoulders high, well-honed calm in place, Cimar strode evenly through the hall until he was before the High Table. He knelt, one hand splayed, the other across his breast. "Your Majesty. Your Highness. I bid you good evening."
"Rise, Sir Cimar. Join your lord."
"Majesty." Cimar rose and then bowed to Davrin, who smiled and motioned for him to take a chair. Surprisingly, Davrin was seated to the left of Princess Korena, when normally Cimar would have sworn he sat opposite and a few chairs down. Korena must be up to something.
Not certain he wanted to know what, but equally certain he'd find out anyway, Cimar took his seat and beckoned a servant to bring him wine. Thankfully, his location put him well away from Tekker and Grayne.
Unsurprisingly, the meal was painfully typical and dragged on forever. Not because His Majesty wanted to build anticipation, but because he was stalling on dealing with a problem for as long as possible.
Finally, though, as the bells rang the ninth hour, His Majesty rose and said, "Lords, Knights of the Challenge, assemble before me."
Cimar rose and followed Davrin around the table, down the steps of the dais, to once more kneel before King Rorlen. Close by, Korena's face gave nothing away, but Cimar didn't think he was crazy in thinking she looked well tired of her father's behavior.
"Rise," King Rorlen said, and Cimar rose smoothly alongside the other three. Grayne, predictably, was already well into his cups and nearly fell right back on his face. Cimar didn't sneer openly, but only with great effort.
Standing, King Rorlen threw out his arms to command silence, then said in strident tones, "A challenge has been called and answered. On behalf of our fallen comrade, Sir Ballior Windon, Knight of the Order of the Star, a challenge has been called by Lord Davrin Dweller-by-the-Sea, Earl of Broken Cliff. Sir Cimar Vallion, Knight of the Order of the Star, has answered as his champion. He challenges Lord Tekker Malden, Marquis of Maldenor, who has accepted. Sir Grayne Darmount, Knight of the Order of Blood, has answered as his champion. These champions will face three challenges: quest, to be called tonight; endurance, to be faced upon the onset of the frost fair; and duel, which will be faced on the final day of the fair."
He spread his arms again. "Is there any who would denounce this challenge as dishonorable or unjust?"
Silence rang out through the enormous hall, and Cimar didn't think he imagined the annoyance—even fury—that flickered ever so briefly across King Rorlen's face.
"Then let the challenge begin, and here knights are your quests:
"Sir Grayne, bandits and brigands have plagued the road to the Golden Apple Abbey for years. Locate the source of the problem and destroy it once and for all, that people might once more travel that road in safety."
"Your Majesty."
Amusement curled through Cimar. So Grayne was being ordered to fix the problem that Cimar supposedly couldn't. Did they think he was going to be insulted by something so childish and petty?
When it was clear no reaction was forthcoming, King Rorlen continued in a sour tone, "Sir Cimar, far to the north is Castle Bone. Its inhabitants have not been heard from in months, and no messenger sent there ever returns. Journey there and resolve the mystery, that we might know what has become of that place."
"Your Majesty." Next to Cimar, Davrin of course gave nothing away, but it wasn't hard to guess that he was furious with the quests: Grayne's simple and close to home, where he could easily cheat and would have all the time in the world for the quest itself while sleeping in his own bed almost every night.
Cimar, meanwhile, would spend most of his quest on arduous travel during the darkest, coldest, most dangerous part of the year. When he reached his destination, he was likely to find one of two things: the castle had been overtaken by some manner of enemy, or it had been wiped out by sickness. Either one posed a great risk to a man expected to face such a challenge with only his squire at his side.
The imbalance was so offensive it was almost laughable. He remained silent, though, as did Davrin, who knew better than most the value and wisdom in silence.
"The quests begin at sunrise. You're dismissed." King Rorlen snapped his fingers, and his attendants and bodyguards enfolded him and follow him from the hall.
Cimar rose, and Davrin beside him. They shared a look, and as one departed the hall in the opposite direction, bound for Davrin's chambers. The door slammed shut behind them, and Davrin's notorious calm façade cracked like a dropped plate. "I have really and truly had it with him."
"At least he's fairly predictable in his vindictiveness," Cimar replied. "I admit neither I nor Leonine thought of Castle Bone, but we should have. It's nothing I haven't deal with before, be it brigands or plague."
Davrin's ire immediately turned into concern. "Brigands concern me far less than plague. Only the Goddess herself can spare a man from that horrid fate. I hope I have not sought justice for Ballior only to lose you too."
"It is your right to call a challenge and my right to answer as champion. Recriminations waste energy and time. Leave off them. You're a diplomat of no small renown; you know all this."
Smiling faintly, Davrin replied, "That is true. I even anticipated His Majesty would act the vindictive child over the matter, but he is surprising even me with how apathetic and mean he's been."
"It's a wonder to me a man like that produced someone as fine and honorable as Princess Korena," Cimar said. "She is on our side, I feel, and that counts for much."
Davrin nodded, brow furrowing briefly as his thoughts took him. Cimar left him to them, taking a seat at the table where they'd had breakfast only hours ago, and focused on his own thoughts.
Such as the best way to reach Castle Bone. It was well into the mountains, high enough up that those unaccustomed to the height struggled to breath at first. Once upon a time it had been a key defense post, but treaties formed nearly two generations ago now had reduced it to little more than a throughway when easier paths were rendered unusable by the mercurial mountains.
Theoretically they could reach it by horse, but that relied heavily on the road and the weather being kind to them, and that the problem was easily resolved or at least deduced in a matter of days, giving them plenty of time to return. He was going to have little choice but to use his shifted form if they wanted any real chance of completing the quest.
Which King Rorlen probably knew. Or at least hoped. Either they went by horse and risked failing, or he used his shifted form and with it thus revealed, bared himself to whatever conniving King Rorlen and his repugnant lackies came up with to exploit it.
Cimar wasn't nearly as stupid as they clearly thought, however.
"I'm glad you seem far less troubled by all of this than me," Davrin said, joining him at the table. "Ballior could have no better champion, truly."