Chapter 35: Real Swords
The elderly man's gaze swept over the gathered nobles before settling on Lord Terras. His weathered face revealed nothing, but his eyes held a cold intensity that made several onlookers step back.
"Who I am is irrelevant," he replied, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to command. "What matters is the honor of a wager made before witnesses."
Terras's face reddened further. "This doesn't concern you, stranger."
"Perhaps not," the old man agreed with a slight nod. "But it seems to me that this dispute has a simple solution." His eyes flicked briefly to Grim, then to Verin Terras. "If a man has a problem with a child, let a child solve it. Children's quarrels should be settled by children, shouldn't they?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as the implication became clear.
"You suggest a duel?" Rowan asked, studying the old man with a mixture of suspicion and something else. A flicker of recognition quickly suppressed.
"I suggest nothing," the elderly man replied. "I merely observe that young Lord Ambrose and the Terras boy seem eager to test each other's mettle. Why not allow them the opportunity?"
[Interesting,] the voice in Grim's head commented. [Your grandfather always did have a flair for the dramatic.]
Grim almost tripped over his own feet. "My what?" he thought back.