Britt leaned back in her chair, slipping her enormous dog another piece of food. “There’s no need to apologize, you aren’t my secretary, but thank you,” she said before she stared at her pewter plate.
Kay pushed away his sheet of calculations and unearthed his logbook. His records on the new King were growing so detailed it was easier to write throughout the day than wait until the evening. Britt was the only one who showed any interest in the logbook, and he didn’t have to worry about her ever reading it—she couldn’t read his writing.
My Lord Britt Arthurs is troubled. I cannot say for certain, but I suspect she is homesick for her time. The captain of the guard squad that is posted to my Lord during the night has informed me that she does not sleep, but instead roams the castle walls. I followed my Lord and her guards twice at a distance. She appears to be restless and disheartened.
I fear the lack of sleep will weaken her constitution. I must say something to Merlin about it.
At least Britt is well enough to eye me balefully whenever she complains of her guards. I am glad her insomnia does not affect her personality, but I am gladder still she hasn’t yet figured out Cavall’s purpose as a guard dog.
Note: I must find and train a secretary for my Lord.
Kay snapped awake and rubbed the sleepy haze from his eyes before he blearily looked around his desk. There were lists of soldier enlistment, weapon costs, provisions purchases, and detailed maps of the area Merlin and his men had selected to serve as base camp.
Kay leaned back in his chair and glanced at his Britt Arthurs logbook. He hadn’t written in it since Merlin left to magic King Ban and Bors’ 10,000 mounted men across the ocean. He hadn’t even had a chance to report his impressions of Roen—Britt’s new horse. (Who was really becoming more of a pet to her than a warsteed.)
Kay sighed before he leaned back over his sheets of figures and numbers. “Later,” he said.
Internally Kay promised himself he was not delaying the record keeping because then he would be forced to face the fact that they were going to place Britt Arthurs in the middle of a bloody battle.
Kay watched Britt throw a stick. Cavall dutifully fetched it and brought it back to her, earning himself a pat on the head.
Kay smiled briefly before he returned his attention to his logbook and finished his entry for the day.
My Lord appears to bear no ill marks from the war. She was not physically hurt, but I had feared all the blood and death would affect her. It is good Merlin brought her back early—although I wish he had taken a squad of soldiers with him.
Young Ywain follows my Lord like a puppy. His admiration of her grows on a daily basis. Merlin sees this too and has begun studying Britt more thoughtfully. He asks for her opinion now before making final decisions.
Sir Bodwain’s attitude towards my Lord has shifted as well, for he now treats her with a great deal of respect instead of toleration. I do not know what has changed his mind, but I am glad for it.
Writing this down has made me note how my Lord’s knights and advisors have changed, but I do not think my Lord has changed at all. She is still easy going and strong both physically and mentally. Perhaps even I do not give her enough credit, for she is but one person and she has changed the fate of an entire country.
Kay looked up from his writing to watch Britt throw the stick again. Cavall retrieved it, eliciting praise and a hug from Britt.
Merlin was circling Britt, speaking to her although the monarch clearly was not paying attention. As if to prove the point Britt turned and called out, “Kay, when are we going to go on our daily ride? I have a carrot I’ve been holding onto for Roen and it’s going to turn to mush soon if I keep sitting on it like I have been.”
Kay glanced at his log book and smiled. “Whenever you wish, my Lord.”
“Let’s go now, then.”
“I object, you still haven’t learned how to properly bow,” Merlin said.
“I’m King, why do I need to know how to bow?”
“There is that,” Merlin grudgingly admitted.
“Come on, Sir Kay. Let’s go,” Britt said, hurrying through the courtyard before Merlin could come up with a rebuff.
“As you wish, my Lord.”