Champion of Fire & Ice - Megan Derr Page 0,5

look like some sprite sent to mete out justice—or mischief—on behalf of the Goddess herself.

"That breakfast looks delicious," Cimar said.

Normally breakfast was a lowkey affair, usually just gruel and hot ale before setting to work for the day. Even in the royal castle, there was rarely more than that. Growing up, Davrin hadn't thought anything of it. He ate his gruel, set to work, and stopped like everyone else at midday for the main meal.

But years of schooling, where a big breakfast was served and midmeal was small, if not skipped or missed entirely due to classes, had changed his habits. Living abroad had only separated him further from the practice, and even now that he was home, he preferred a strong meal at the start of the day, no matter the odd looks it gained him.

"It does," he agreed, and passed over a cup of hot ale before settling into his seat with his own cup. He sipped the ale, which was heavily spiced and fruity, then set about smearing pieces of bread with butter and honey, filling a bowl of porridge with nuts, dried fruit, and cheese. "Thank you again for helping me. I will never be able to repay you."

"There is nothing to repay, my lord." Cimar took a sip of ale. "As I said before, Ballior was my friend too. That aside, I am a knight, and it is my duty and honor to serve those in need. I may spend my days with books, but they were not the reason I became a knight. They're simply where I've always proven to be most useful."

Davrin stuffed his mouth with cheese to prevent injudicious words slipping out. Now was not the time. "So what do you think our esteemed monarch will choose for the quests?"

Cimar grimaced and traced the rim of his cup as he replied, "I'm afraid to think about it, frankly. The frost festival is just weeks away, so that restricts what he can choose—and the weather limits it even further." He snorted. "He will certainly give Grayne something easy, and me something difficult."

Rolling his eyes, Davrin refilled both their cups, then settled back in his seat. "His Majesty prefers to combine problems where he can, so I suspect you will be sent to deal with the bandits in the mountain. I know the problem has finally gotten bad enough he was getting ready to send out royal troops to deal with it. Cheaper to send you, and either get a lot of dead bandits or a canceled challenge."

"Oh, Goddess, I think you're right." Cimar groaned, drained his ale, and set the cup down with a hard clack on the table. "I suppose at least we will be rid of those damned bandits."

Davrin's shoulders tightened. "Just do not get yourself killed. I want justice for Ballior, but not at the cost of your life. Of anyone's life." His shoulders slumped. "Perhaps this was selfish of me. I—"

"You are doing what the law requires, and right by your oldest and dearest friend. I am a knight, trust that I know what that entails and that I made my choice."

Bowing his head slightly, Davrin replied, "Of course, my apologies. I intended no disrespect. I'm sorry I gave it."

Cimar lifted a hand. "Not at all. I'm honored you'd worry so over me, my lord."

"I think you can leave off the formalities, at least when it's only the two of us. Please, Davrin is fine."

"As you wish. So quest is likely to be bandits, the endurance I feel will be seeing who can last the longest in the freezing cold, which leaves only the duel."

"He's going to cheat," Davrin said.

Cimar snorted and shrugged. "I admit I'm not looking forward to it, but I can handle him."

"I never doubted that. Now, enough grim talk. Enjoy your food. Will you be going to the archives for the rest of the day?"

"No, I need to finish readying the rest of my equipment and run my horses through their paces. If I am going questing, I'll need my palfrey and rouncey ready. They've not done much but run me through fields the past few months, though I always try to make sure it's good exercise, not merely token." He chuckled softly. "I will also need to drag my errant squire out of whatever tavern he's fallen asleep in."

Davrin quirked a brow. "You have a squire? Who's.. a drunkard?"

"Drunkard, no. He simply likes to have fun and end his nights with anyone willing and