“Sir Roel, so kind of you to approach me,” Duke Thierry said with a thin smile. “Ladies, do you mind if I talk with our esteemed paladin in private for a moment?”

The women reluctantly excused themselves, and they were alone.

“Have you no tact, Sir Roel?” The smile was gone from the young duke’s face, and although he spoke in a joking manner, there was an undertone of genuine irritation.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace?”

“How often do you think I get to talk to women like that?” Duke Thierry glanced at the backsides of the women who had just left. “I spend all day inside doing paperwork and trying not to spill ink on my desk. I’m not like you who gets to go out on adventures and save damsels.”

“I apologize,” he said, bewildered. “But I wanted to thank you, and I thought you might want to talk with me.”

“Where’d you get that idea? Because I clapped for you?” The duke rolled his eyes. “Despite what it might seem, life is very dull in the council. I would have refused the position if I could. It’s not every day that the king does something absurd like naming a mid-ranking paladin as commander. And maybe I felt a little bad for you in the moment, but now, any pity I had for you has dissipated.”

“Ah, I see. I must’ve misunderstood.” He tried not to get caught up in the duke’s pace. He had the suspicion that Duke Thierry had been watching him from afar ever since the banquet started, and he confirmed that suspicion when Duke Alan and Duke Octave came to talk to him. At that moment, Duke Thierry’s eyes had turned away from his companions, and he was carefully watching Roel’s conversation with the two dukes.

“I suppose one of my questions has been answered though.” Duke Thierry took a swig from his wineskin. “I always wondered why Cardinal Eudes chose the 58th Divine Paladin as his champion. Why not someone stronger, someone more reputable? When he suggested that you should end the siege, no one had complaints. We all thought it was better you than someone else’s champion.” He chuckled. “I mean no offense. It’s just how it is.”

“None taken. I’m not so petty that I’d mistake a fact for an insult.”

“Well, I’m sure all the other council members feel foolish now.” Duke Thierry’s eyes moved from Roel’s face to his armor and then to his sword. “They let their guards down because it was you, and they let the cardinal whisper in the king’s ear.”

The duke paused to wait for his reply, but he said nothing. There would be nothing to gain in voicing his distrust of the cardinal to the young duke.

“It’s a bit frustrating,” the duke continued, “Not knowing what Cardinal Eudes and His Majesty intend to gain from all of this. Would you happen to know?”

“All I know is that Cardinal Eudes has put his faith in me, and I only seek to repay him,” he said.

“He put his faith in you? That can’t be it. I might’ve not been around for all of that, but I’ve read the transcripts and reports about the Battle of Wetshard. You all were supposed to buy time for Sir Christian. Mildly pleasant if you lived, but not unexpected if you didn’t. But somehow, against all odds, you won the battle and beheaded Ganelon. So, the clever cardinal claimed you as his champion.” He grinned. “How’s that? Is that a sound theory?”

“Who’s to say?” He had been right to compare the young man to Cardinal Eudes and Duke Alan. Duke Thierry was young, irreverent, and a bit loquacious, but he had done his research and was fishing for more answers. “Might I ask which house you hail from, Your Grace? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Changing the subject? Fair enough, all this plotting and scheming hurts my head.” He took another swig from his wineskin. “I’m a Dupont.”

“Ah, you’re in charge of the Court of Common Appeals?”

“Like my father before me. All the appeals and requests that our lovely citizens send to the palace come my way, and I gotta tell you: it’s shite. Only been at it for two years, but I’ve seen it all at this point. Let me pick your brain for a moment. One town requires assistance against an aggressive, man-eating lion; another demands we send a paladin to bless their crops for the harvest. How would you handle that most efficiently, Sir Roel?”

He thought for a moment. He had been assigned similar tasks in the past. “Assign one paladin to slay the lion but ask him to stop by the town that requires his blessings. It can be before or after he slays the lion. It doesn’t matter as long as he arrives before the harvest.”

“And what if both towns are on opposite sides of the kingdom, and the paladin is known for taking his time?”

“Invent a reason for why he has to hurry,” he answered. “Depends on who you’re dealing with, but you can either offer a monetary incentive or appeal to his honor by exaggerating the woes of the townspeople. Although it’s less effective, threatening punishment would be a viable option, too.”

“You’ve a devious mind,” Duke Thierry said with a laugh. “No wonder you outsmarted the 13th.”

“What would you do, Your Grace?” he asked.

“Tell them all to piss off,” the duke said immediately.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, not verbally. I won’t waste parchment or a messenger on that. But there’s no harm in ignoring their requests.”

“No harm?” Roel repeated. “I can understand that it might be a waste of time to send a paladin to bless crops, but surely a lion would bring great harm. If you don’t send help, the people will make a noise about it.”

“How loud of a noise?”

“Well, it–”

“I don’t dislike your answer – you nobly tried to solve both problems. When I ask my new scribes that question, they always choose to address the lion and ignore the farmers. Logical enough. Lions are big and scary, much more hideous than wheat that has yet to grow. But where both answers fail is that they try to solve a problem that doesn’t need solving.

“I deal in priorities, Sir Roel. Do you know how many of those requests I get a day?” The duke shrugged. “The local garrisons and priests can deal with both of those problems. There’s no need to send a paladin. The question isn’t how you would help, but why.”

“I see.”

“You’re displeased with my logic?” the young duke asked.

“No, Your Grace. I’ve seen the kingdom, and I understand that there are oftentimes more problems than solutions.” Although he couldn’t wholeheartedly agree with his thinking, he wasn’t so naïve as to detest it. “Yours is a difficult task.”

“Oh, so you actually get it.” He broke out in a grin. “It’s so hard to get it through these thick-headed nobles sometimes. My own father doesn’t agree with me. Did you know him?”

“Not well. Duke Hubert sent me orders, I sent him reports. I heard he was well-respected in the court. Stalwart but stoic.”

“He’s an impulsive man.” Duke Thierry blew a golden curl of hair away from his eyes. “The type to immediately send one paladin to slay the lion and another to bless the crops. Laudable, perhaps. But when the 13th betrayed us, it was my father’s fault that we had no one else to send but you and those other two paladins. Everyone else was off wrestling lions and kneeling on farmlands, no doubt.

“I inherited my father’s impulsiveness, but not his impulses. He wanted to stay locked up in his cellar and pore over documents and records. I want to dance and laugh and pour drinks for beautiful women. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to act on that impulse.”

Before he could say anything, the duke sauntered away and disappeared into the crowd. The nearby nobles, most of whom had been waiting for the duke to leave, seized the opportunity and swarmed Roel with their incessant offers and appeals.

Maybe I can understand the duke’s troubles, he thought. Two viscounts had approached him, each offering use of their personal armies in exchange for him appointing their third sons as officers. Sometimes, it would be easier to just tell them to piss off.