“Did Verking say where he wanted to meet me?”

“The study room on the first floor.”

Thanking Droon, Rowan took his leave, making his way downstairs and through the common room towards the Draigwyn study room.

A cozy place, the study room was essentially a miniature library; several bookshelves containing books on the subjects taught at Faebrook lined the walls. A large table dominated the center of the room, in front of which a tall Fae boy with hair so blonde it was nearly white could be seen. On his chest was a small gold adventurer’s pin.

“You called for me?” Rowan asked cautiously, knocking lightly on the door as he poked his head inside.

“I did,” Verking confirmed. Ushering him in, he observed Rowan for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Rowan said noncommittally, not wanting to give away any sign of weakness.

Up close, Verking was much more intimidating than he had been from afar, his muscled arms bulging from beneath the tight tunic he wore, the top buttons undone to show off his pecs. Rowan almost wanted to blush; he had seen less exposed cleavage on street walkers.

“A little tired after portering for a party yesterday, but I’ll live.”

Verking nodded. “I heard that you served as a porter for a party from House Lykia?”

“I did,” Rowan confirmed.

Verking stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but Rowan said nothing. There was no point supplying the captain with the rope to hang him with. If he wanted to force Rowan to apologize, he would have to make the case why.

“I also heard,” Verking continued after a moment, “that you got into an altercation with them.”

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. Verking’s eyes were piercing, a pair of stormy grey irises that seemed to see right through him.

“That’s right,” Rowan replied at last. “They wanted to short me on my pay, so I called them out on it.”

“As you should,” Verking nodded approvingly, earning a confused look from Rowan. “We might be the smallest house, but that doesn’t mean we’ll allow others to push us around. Especially not when our honour is called into question.”

Rowan stared blankly at the man. Our honour? What the hell is he talking about?

Seeing Rowan’s confusion, Verking elaborated. “I already know everything that happened. A member of our house was nearby when it happened, and they heard everything. I know that you stood up to them for insulting our house, and I wanted you to know that you have nothing to fear from the Lykians. Here at Draigwyn, we protect our own.”

Rowan blinked twice, still thoroughly confused. Verking thought that he had shouted at Klou because he had insulted Draigwyn? Sure, Klou had mentioned Draigwyn before Rowan had gone off on him, but the main reason for their argument and subsequent fight had still been over the issue of payment. Had Verking’s informant misheard?

Taking Rowan’s silence as tacit admission of his involvement, Verking smiled. “Our house’s honour was challenged and you stepped up to defend it, despite being horribly outmatched. That’s a noble thing to do, as befitting a man from Tirsiog,” Verking praised. “Even if I am to understand that you did not grow up there, it is good to see that the noble spirit of the fae is present even in lands so far from our hallowed kingdom.”

Rowan nodded mutely, content to allow Verking to continue with his misunderstanding. From what he could tell, it was working out in his favour, so there was no reason to correct the boy now.

“But,” Verking continued. “We cannot allow those devils from Lykia to call us weaklings and challenge our honour without consequence. We are nobles of Tirsiog, and to a noble, honour is more important than one’s life!” Verking spoke with conviction, each of his words full of the confidence that only a lifetime spent in the winner’s spotlight could grant.

“Right, right,” Rowan replied, his mind working fast as he attempted to come up with a way out of this. His intuition was telling him that Verking’s plans spelt trouble, specifically trouble for him, and he wanted no part of it. “But I think we resolved our differences. It shouldn’t be an issue going forward,” Rowan lied.

“A conflict born is not a conflict settled until one side admits defeat,” Verking stated. “The other party has not apologized, and thus this conflict shall continue until they do.”

“Couldn’t we just let it go and let bygones be bygones?” Rowan asked hopefully. “He insulted our house, I insulted him, and he broke my nose. Can’t we just call it square and move on?”

“Never!” Verking swore vehemently. “You insulted him because he gave you no further recourse. But he insulted you and, through you, our house, because of a petty squabble borne of money. To allow this transgression to go unpunished is only to invite further scorn from the other four houses and turn all of Draigwyn into the laughing stock of Faebrook!”

Rowan groaned softly. He had always hated the saying ‘honour among thieves’, but it seemed that honour among nobles was even dumber. The way Verking spoke of it, one would think that this minor altercation between two adventurers would spell the doom of all of Draigwyn if it was left unaddressed.

Or at least that was what Rowan assumed he meant. Verking was somewhat tough to understand, with all the grandiose terms and overwrought metaphors that he loved to employ. He spoke the way characters did in plays that Rowan had seen put on back in the streets of Taureen, and it was confusing as hell.

Despite his protests, Rowan soon found himself trailing behind Verking, following as the older boy led the way to the House Lykia dormitory, where he would presumably come face to face with Klou for the second time in as many days. Wonderful.

The House Lykia dorms were located near the training grounds, most likely by design given the southern races’ propensity for training. The towering dormitory was slightly bigger than that of Draigwyn’s. Jutting from the academy, it was plain to see that the tower was a more recent addon than the one they had just departed, and several elements of beastmen architecture could be seen in the stonework, which gave off a militaristic feeling from afar.

Three Lykian students stood outside the dorm, their eyes tracking Verking and Rowan’s approach.

“You got business here, Fae-boy?” one of them, a feathered beastman, asked.

His eyes were hard, like those of a hawk, a pair of black pits that threatened to devour him, but Rowan stared back without flinching. He had dealt with plenty of beastmen back in Taureen, and a strong first impression was usually enough for them to leave him be. It hadn’t worked with the Jackal Claws, but that was probably more to do with Klou being an asshole than anything else.

Whatever the reason, the beastman looked away after a moment, turning his gaze back towards Verking who smiled disarmingly. “I’m here to see Idia. Can you let her know that Verking is here to see her?”

“I’ll see if she’s busy,” the beastman replied. Turning to his friends, he gestured in Verking’s direction. “Make sure they stay here. I don’t want to be responsible for disturbing Idia over some fae’s idea of a prank.”

As the other two Lykians nodded, the hawkman vanished inside, his footsteps fading quickly as the door closed behind him. For a minute, there was silence, neither Rowan nor the beastmen willing to engage in conversation. Verking simply smiled, his face practically radiating light as he awaited the approach of Lykia’s leader.

Two minutes later, footsteps were once again heard beyond the door, which was thrust open by the beastman who’d spoken to them earlier. Moving quickly, he stepped aside, holding the door for a beastwoman who nodded at him before passing through.

The first thing that Rowan noticed about Idia was that she was tall, really tall. Standing well over six feet, the leader of house Lykia was an avian beastwoman, her feathers a dusky umber flecked with gold that ruffled quietly in the breeze. A hooked beak that looked like it was sculpted from black ivory gave her a distinct hawk-like expression, and her yellow eyes gazed coolly at the two outsiders on her front step.

“Leave us,” Idia commanded, her gaze flashing towards the three Lykians.

Saluting, the hawk beastman and his two friends headed inside, leaving Idia alone with the Draigwyns.

Arms crossed, Idia stared at Verking. “Why are you here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Verking asked. “We came all this way to see you, only to receive such a cold welcome. I knew the beast people were brusque, but you could at least ask how we’re doing.”

Idia's jaw clenched. “What do you want, Verking?”

“I’m sure word has reached you of the altercation between members of our two houses,” Verking stated, his voice tactful as he looked at Idia.

“It has,” Idia replied. “From what I heard, your boy insulted our member’s honour, and he took it into his own hands to educate him. A petty squabble between nobles, nothing more.”

“Ah,” Verking said. “You see, the thing is, the version I heard was a little different. My sources inform me that it was your boy who insulted our honour, and when Rowan here attempted to extract an apology from him, he was brutally assaulted.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Idia demanded, her gaze flickering towards where Rowan stood. “It’s a matter between the two of them, why are you getting involved?”

“Because he insulted my house, and through that, the honour of Tirsiog,” Verking stated, his tone turning harsh. “So long as I am leader, Draigwyn will not suffer the indignity of such attacks.”

Idia groaned. “You and your stupid honour. So what, you want me to make him apologize? You know I can’t do that. My house would never let me leave the academy alive.”

“I would never put you in such a difficult position,” Verking responded reassuringly, his tone normal once more. “I simply ask that you allow us to speak with him, and to not interfere with our discussion.”

Idia narrowed her eyes. “You’re just going to make things worse. Allow this to pass and it will disappear before tomorrow dawns. No one will know or care about a fight between brass-tiers. But if you make a scene, both our houses will be dragged into the spotlight, and both of us will come out the worse as a result.”

“It’s a matter of honour,” Verking insisted.

“A matter of idiocy more like,” Idia muttered. Pausing, she glanced at Rowan, who was doing his best not to nod along every time she opened her mouth. The leader of Lykia seemed so much more reasonable than his own, and it pained him to see Verking so insistent on continuing.

“What does your boy want?” Idia asked. “Does he want you to make a big deal about this?”

“He understands what is at stake,” Verking replied.

“You mean he can’t fight back against the leader of his house and the prime minister’s son,” Idia deduced. “Fine, I’ll get you Klou. But if this blows up in your face, don’t come begging me to fix it for you, Verking.”

With that, Idia was off, the door to the dormitory slamming shut behind her, leaving Verking and Rowan standing awkwardly outside. Verking still appeared cool, his jaw set as he prepared to harangue Klou whenever he appeared, but Rowan was increasingly wishing that the earth would swallow him up.

Idia had echoed every one of his own thoughts about how Verking was handling the matter, but it had not mattered. The Fae boy was dead set on forcing Klou to apologize, and there was nothing anyone could say to change his mind. Worse, Idia had also been correct about why Rowan was unable to call an end to this charade himself.

Verking was the ultimate authority in Draigwyn, and getting on his bad side was tantamount to social suicide, at least within the house. All Rowan could do now was hope that Klou had somehow found reason and grown a conscience in the day they had been apart, an unlikely event considering how the jackalman had reacted to the deaths of two of his comrades.

All too soon, Idia returned with Klou in tow. The jackalman looked surprised to see Rowan, though that surprise soon morphed into a feral grin that seemed to promise Rowan he had made a mistake coming here.

“Klou, I assume?” Verking inquired.

“That’s me,” Klou replied. “What’s the head of Draigwyn doing here?”

His tone was civil, but the words themselves contained hidden barbs, plainly audible to even Rowan. Had he ever talked to a guard like this, it was likely that he would have received a blow upside the head, so for Klou to speak to Verking like this clearly showed his disdain for the Draigwyn leader.

Idia looked annoyed at the disrespect her fellow Lykian was showing, but said nothing, opting instead to fix her gaze on Rowan, who matched it uncomfortably. The eaglewoman’s eyes were absolutely piercing, and she had a majesty about her that seemed to elevate her above other nobles, let alone a former street rat.

“I’m here to address a matter that you were involved in,” Verking replied. While everyone else appeared uncomfortable with the way Klou had spoken to him, the boy in question appeared unperturbed. His expression was still as bright and earnest as it had been when he had spoken to Rowan earlier, and his smile was still affixed to his face. If Klou was getting to him, he was not showing it.

Klou’s eyes flashed towards Rowan, who gazed back unfalteringly. While he might find it difficult to stare Idia in the eye, he had no such compunction about doing the same to Klou.

“Not sure why you came,” Klou said, glaring at Rowan for a moment before turning his gaze back to Verking. “It was just a minor matter over pay. It’s been resolved now.”

“I heard it was a bit more than that,” Verking replied. “There were onlookers who reported some very choice wording used against my house. I’m sure you understand why I cannot overlook this.”

Klou sneered. “So the pup ran back with his tail between his legs. I stand by my words. This is exactly why I said what I did. Because weaklings like this attempt to act above their station.” Looking at Rowan, Klou made a disparaging noise. “You couldn’t even come here on your own, you needed to enlist the help of the strongest guy in your shitty house just to get the courage to face me again. I bet—”

*SLAP*

Klou blinked, his eyes adjusting to see the hand only an inch from his face. In front of him, Idia’s arm was raised, the wrist she had used to block Verking’s strike shaking slightly from the force of the blow. It had all happened so quickly that neither Rowan nor Klou had been able to react in time. The fact that Idia had managed to react spoke to her prowess, just as the speed of the blow spoke to Verking’s.

“Enough,” Idia said sharply, her eyes glancing from Klou to Verking. “I won’t tolerate you attacking my members. Say your piece and be done with it. And you,” she said, her eyes fixating on Klou. “Respect your betters. I won’t protect you again.”

“Yes, binrin,” Klou said respectfully, using the beastman word for princess. His eyes were resentful as he stared at Verking, whose smile broadened as he saw it, clearly aware of the effect his actions had on Klou.

“So you don’t take back what you said the other day about my house?” Verking asked.

“I don’t,” Klou returned challengingly.

“And I suppose that means you won’t apologize either?”

“I’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Klou insisted.

“Very well then, I guess we’re done here,” Verking said. “Sorry about your arm, Idia.”

“It’s fine,” Idia muttered, cradling her wrist.

Both Rowan and Klou blinked at this. Whatever they had been expecting, it had not been this. After all the fuss that Verking had raised, for him to give up so easily felt strange, especially to Rowan. However, it seemed that that was exactly what was happening.

“I’d suggest you fix that attitude of yours,” Verking told Klou. “It’s not really in line with your abilities. And Idia won’t always be here to protect you.”

“Is that a threat?” Klou’s eyes narrowed.

“No, just some friendly advice,” Verking replied, his smile firmly in place. “It’s up to you if you want to heed it.”

“Hmph,” Klou snorted.

Idia flashed him an annoyed glance, clearly not wishing him to throw any more fuel on the fire, but did not address it, and instead turned to Rowan. “Good luck in your studies, Rowan.”

Rowan nodded his thanks. Although they had not met under the best circumstances, Idia felt like a much more reasonable house captain than Verking, at least from his short interaction with her. While he might not have made a new ally today, he was glad that he could at least avoid making a new enemy thanks to Verking’s stupid honour.

Speaking of… Rowan turned his eyes from Idia to Klou, who was glowering at him from behind his captain. This enemy had definitely not been transformed into a friend today, far from it.

As Rowan watched, Klou raised his hand to his neck and made a cutting motion, the universal murder threat. Rowan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. There was no point in calling either Idia or Verking’s attention to it. This was his battle, and he would deal with it on his own terms, just as he’d originally planned.

“Thanks for your time,” Verking told the Lykia duo, before turning to Rowan. “Let’s go.”

Spinning on his heel, Verking led them away from the Lykia dormitory, Idia and Klou disappearing as the tower faded behind them. For almost a minute, they walked in silence, but then Verking turned to Rowan.

“That went well,” Verking said brightly.

“It did?” Rowan replied skeptically.

“It did,” Verking affirmed. “About as well as I’d predicted, honestly.”

“But we didn’t get an apology!” Rowan protested. “I thought that was the entire point of us coming here?” Instead of embarrassing ourselves, he added silently.

Verking smiled. “We don’t need an apology, we simply need to show that we have defended our honour. You cannot control the actions of others, but you can control your response to those actions, and it is the response that garners the sympathy or scorn of the bystanders. Had we simply let this pass, the other houses would have looked down upon us for being spineless. Instead, we confronted the culprit, and though we did not earn an apology, we at least showed the courage to demand one. Results matter, but intentions do as well.”

Rowan blinked, doing his best to figure out what Verking meant. From his perspective, they had failed to accomplish what they had set out to do. Klou had completely denied them the apology Verking desired, and mocked them instead. But apparently they had succeeded?

Seeing his confusion, Verking put on a thoughtful expression. “You come from a common background, yes?”

Rowan nodded.

“Then tell me, which do you respect more? The man who allows trouble to pass, or the one who takes action even when he knows nothing will change as a result?”

Rowan tilted his head. “What?”

“Say you have two men,” Verking began, “both sitting in a tavern. As they’re drinking, the bastard son of a local lord comes in and starts acting up, harassing the barmaid and annoying the patrons. Both men know that the guard won’t do anything if called, and so the first stays put and just tries to enjoy his drink. The second man confronts the noble’s son about his behaviour, but is told to stay out of it by both the noble and the barmaid. Which man do you respect more?”

For a moment, Rowan wore a pensive expression, running through the scenario in his mind. It was a common enough scene in the bars and taverns of Taureen, drunken idiots with too much power allowed to run rampant by those who were supposed to enforce the law, and it was not difficult for him to immerse himself in the tale as described.

“The second man,” Rowan said after a moment. “I would respect the second man more.”

“Even though they both achieved the same result?”

“But the second man still tried to—” Rowan paused as realization struck, the meaning behind Verking’s story suddenly becoming clear. “Ah.”

Verking wore a knowing smile. “Exactly. Neither man had any effect on the situation. In the end, both were equally powerless. But you respect the second man more for attempting to act in accordance with his principles, even if he achieved no more than the one who saw but did nothing.”

“As sapient beings, we read a lot into the actions of others, and as a result, every action we take has meaning. Conversely, every action we don’t take has meaning of its own, which is why we came here today. Choosing to take action is a choice, and not taking action is thus also a choice. By coming here today we made a choice, and our honour has been upheld as a result of it.”

Rowan nodded. What Verking said made sense. On the surface they had gone to Lykia to demand an apology from Klou, but in reality, they had really gone to prove to the rest of the academy that they would not take Klou’s disparaging of their house lying down. But now that he understood this, he was left with another question.

“Was there any world in which Klou would have actually apologized to us?” Rowan asked. Speaking honestly, although he now understood the reason they had come, the futility of their stated reason still bothered him. He had never been a person who enjoyed wasting his time, and on the surface, the fact that Klou had never been expected to apologize rankled him.

Verking shook his head. “To Klou, denying you an apology was as important for him as demanding one was to us. In the warrior society of the Coalition, honour and standing are more important than their lives. Had he shown weakness by apologizing to an inferior whom he supposedly had chided for disrespecting him, he would have lost his standing in the house. I’m not saying what he did was right, but he had his reasons, just as we have ours.”

Rowan went silent at this, his mind whirling as he ran through the events of the last day in his mind. Despite what Verking had said, there was no way he could forgive Klou. Reasons or no reasons, Klou was a terrible person, and Rowan would neither forgive nor forget. One day, Klou would pay for what he had done, Rowan would make sure of that.

“It also served as a threat, if that helps,” Verking added.

Rowan tilted his head. “A threat?”

“Yes. If you had gone yourself to demand retribution, then your personal honour would have been upheld, but the results would have been less than helpful to your future time at Faebrook. However, my presence changes that. By having the leader of Draigwyn come in person, we let Klou and the others from Lykia know that we of House Draigwyn will not tolerate his targetting of you. I’m sure that won’t dissuade him from trying, but it means he will have to be covert about it, rather than attacking you overtly as I’m sure he had planned to do. Basically, Draigwyn stands behind you.”

“Draigwyn stands behind me?” Rowan echoed dumbly. “Why?”

“Because you’re one of us,” Verking said simply.

The rest of the walk back to the Draigwyn dorm was done in silence, Verking seemingly content to allow Rowan space to reflect and Rowan equally content to do just that. As they arrived in front of the dorm, Rowan bid Verking farewell, turning to head for the library where books on magical theory awaited him. However, before he could depart, a voice from behind stopped him.

“Rowan,” Verking called. “One last thing. While you may have been a commoner before coming here, now that you’re a Faebrook student, you have joined the high society. As a commoner, words and actions affect only yourself and those closest to you, but as a noble, they affect many. Remember that.”

Having said his piece, Verking departed, leaving Rowan with that enigmatic bit of advice as he pulled open the door and entered the dormitory.