Hadrian clenched his teeth.
“I’ve been thinking… Perhaps when this business with Breckton is over, you might find working for the empire preferable to exile with Gaunt. I am a pragmatist, Hadrian, and I can see the benefit of having someone like you aiding in what we are trying to accomplish. I’m sure you’ve heard any number of terrible things about me or what I may have done. But you need to realize I’m trying to rid our world of problems that plague all of us, commoner and noble alike. Roads have gone to ruin. You can hardly travel in spring due to mud. Banditry is rampant, which hampers trade and stifles prosperity. Every city is a cesspool of filth and few have adequate fresh water. There are not enough jobs in the north, not enough workers in the south, and not enough food anywhere.”
Hadrian glanced across the hall and saw Breckton and Nimbus leaving the feast together. A little while later, Murthas, Elgar, and Gilbert downed their drinks and left in the same direction.
“The world of men has many enemies,” Saldur droned on. “When petty kings war with each other, they weaken the nations with their childish feuds. I have long believed these squabbles leave the doors open for invasion and invite destruction. You might not know this, but the Ghazel and Dacca have been raiding from the south. We don’t publicize this information, of course, so few know just how severe it has become, but they have even invaded Tur Del Fur.”
Hadrian glared. “If you didn’t want the Ghazel as neighbors, you probably shouldn’t have invited them.”
Saldur looked at him curiously for a moment and then said, “I did what was necessary. Now where was I? Oh yes. Not everyone can keep what they have if things are to change. There must be sacrifices. I have tried to be reasonable, but if a leg is infected and cannot be saved, it must be removed for the good of the body. I hope you can see past these small costs and recognize the larger implications. I am not an evil man, Hadrian. It is the world that forces me to be cruel, but no more so than a father forcing his child to swallow an unpleasant medicine. You can see that, can’t you?”
Saldur looked at him expectantly.
“Am I allowed to leave?” Hadrian asked. “The feast, I mean.”
Saldur sighed and sat back in his chair. “Yes, you can go. You need to get plenty of sleep. The tournament begins in two days.”
Pinecones and holly garland, the remnants of wayward revelers, littered the hallways along Hadrian’s path to the knights’ wing. Rounding a corner, he found Nimbus slumped against the corridor wall. The courtier’s tunic was torn, and his nose bleeding. Sir Gilbert stood above him, grinning. Through the doorway of the common room, Hadrian spotted Sir Breckton. Armed with only his dress dagger, the knight defended himself against Murthas and Elgar, each of whom wielded a sword as well as a dagger.
“Look who’s joined the party,” Gilbert said as Hadrian approached.
“Given this situation,” Hadrian asked Nimbus while keeping his eyes on Gilbert, “how much generosity am I required to extend to these fellow knights?”
In the common room, Murthas swiped at Breckton, who caught the sword with his little blade and cast the stroke aside.
“Given the situation,” Nimbus said quickly, “I think the virtue of generosity is not applicable.”
“Indeed!” Breckton shouted. “They have forfeited their right to honorable treatment.”
Hadrian smiled. “That makes this a lot easier.” Drawing his own dagger, he threw it into Gilbert’s thigh. The knight cried out and fell to his knees, looking up in astonishment. Hadrian punched him in the face, and his opponent collapsed. Taking both his and Gilbert’s daggers, Hadrian advanced.
Elgar sneered as he turned to face Hadrian, leaving Breckton to Murthas.
“I hope you joust better than you wield a sword,” Hadrian said, approaching.
“We haven’t even fought yet, you fool,” Elgar bellowed.
“That’s hardly necessary. You hold your sword like a woman. No, that’s not true. I’ve actually known women who can sword fight. The truth is, you’re just terrible.”
“What I lack in style, I make up for in strength.” Elgar charged Hadrian, raising his blade over his head and leaving his entire chest exposed. Hadrian’s training made him instinctively want to aim a single thrust at the man’s heart, which would kill Elgar instantly. He fought the urge and lowered his weapon. Saldur and Ethelred would not approve. Besides, Elgar was drunk. Instead, he dodged to one side and left a foot behind to trip the knight. Elgar fell, hitting his head on the stone.
“Is he dead?” Nimbus asked, watching Hadrian roll the big man over on his back.
“No, but I think he might have chipped the slate. Now that’s a hard head.”
Hadrian sat down next to Nimbus and inspected the tutor’s wounds.
“Shouldn’t you help Sir Breckton?”