Not much had changed in Sanderson’s office over the past seven years. The addition of a hand-drawn portrait of his likeness given to him by Isla appeared to be the only noticeable difference. The captain of the guard smiled in it. When he had asked the young hauflin why she drew him in such a way instead of with an authoritative expression, her answer surprised him: Because I remember you smile, but occasionally you don’t. This will remind you.
This picture held Bronwyn’s attention as he waited for Sanderson to complete the report in front of him.
Sanderson put down his ink pen. “What’s on your mind?”
Bronwyn told him what had transpired the day before in Captain Tibbins’ office. “I believe he would have ordered me to accept the quest if he had the authority. I declined the offer by exercising the single parent clause.”
Sanderson listened intently. When Bronwyn finished, the captain sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “And his reaction when you refused?”
“Outrage. He suggested I leave Isla with family.”
“He has no right to commandeer my guards for his pleasure.” Sanderson gave him a stern look. “If he asks again, refuse his order. I’ll deal with him. I want you here.” His thick index finger struck the desk.
“Yes, sir.” Relieved, Bronwyn relaxed; he’d remain in Maskil with Isla and his family.
A knock came at the door, and Sanderson motioned for him to answer it. Startled, Bronwyn found Lord Mulryan on the threshold. The captain of the guard stood.
“Have a seat.” The lord stepped inside and closed the door. The dwarf’s vivid blue eyes—a sharp contrast to his jet-black hair—scanned the sparsely decorated room. “Captain Tibbins requested a number of recruits for an important quest. I gave him permission to choose whom he pleased. It appears, however, not everyone feels honoured to be selected.”
Bronwyn held his breath. He couldn’t refuse if the lord ordered him to accept the quest; it went against protocol.
“Are you insinuating my men are cowards?” Sanderson stood to challenge the lord. His calm, authoritative voice filled the office.
“Coward isn’t the appropriate word. It’s lack of respect for the captain’s generous offer.”
“My men have the right to refuse any quest offered them. It’s the Law of the Land.” Sanderson picked up a heavy book and dropped it on his desk. “I challenge you to say otherwise.”
Lord Mulryan grunted. “Every man should be honoured to be given the opportunity to prove themselves worthy of Aruam Castle. No brave dwarf would refuse the challenge.”
“Brave dwarfs are needed at the castle. Take the sergeant for example.” Sanderson gestured towards Bronwyn. “If he left for several weeks on a quest, it’d bring our re-organization plans to a standstill. Sergeant Darrow is responsible for engineering and implementing the junior corporal rank, giving structure and order to the companies. He’s only one. There are many others. Each has the sense and the courage to do what is best for the castle, Maskil and her people. They won’t abandon their duties simply for the sake of personal honour.”
The silence in the room threatened to choke Bronwyn. His future, his very life, depended on how Lord Mulryan responded to Sanderson’s speech. Quests were different than what they appeared to be. Too many times he saw good men leave and never return. He expected a certain degree of danger in a mission but a good chance of survival, too.
The dwarfen lord nodded. “You have trained your men well.”
“I’d like to think I’ve given them every opportunity to acquire the skills needed to perform their duties to the best of their abilities, My Lord.”
Lord Mulryan glanced at Bronwyn with what appeared to be more curiosity than disappointment. He turned to leave but stopped; his hand on the door knob. “What I don’t understand is why a brave dwarf requested custody of a ward in the first place? Had he planned to use her in his defence of refusal?”
The guards exchanged glances, both confounded by the lord’s comment.
“My Lord, this sergeant didn’t choose the ward. The lords appointed him as her guardian. Against his will, I might add.”
Bronwyn watched a cloud of confusion shadow the lord’s face.
“Piffle. I’d never have agreed to such nonsense.” Lord Mulryan pulled open the door and left.
Bronwyn’s jaw dropped. He remembered the day as if yesterday. Lord Val had said all the lords had agreed upon the best guardian for Isla: him. The lord had to have known the details.
“It appears Mulryan has difficulty recalling facts.” Sanderson sat back in his chair. “No matter. He’ll put the good captain in his place, leaving you to carry out your duties.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Bronwyn didn’t immediately stand, the captain of the guard pointed to the door. “Your duties await.”
Bronwyn stood. Before he left the office, he noticed the beginning of a smile on the corner of Sanderson’s mouth. Isla proved right; he did smile when the right moment presented itself.