As Bietre Noblis’ eyes took him and Narm in, Caj was sure they were done for. No one got away with talking to a lord that way, especially not this lord. Apparently, one of the captains with the guard felt the same, and he stepped his mount forward, no doubt to object to Narm’s words.

“You there!” the young captain snapped, “Who in the name of the blazing chaff do you think you are, to talk to the commander like that?” he took a breath, getting his wind back. Narm this opportunity to glance at the man, cock an eyebrow, and then dismiss him from mind. Like a father dismissing a somewhat troublesome child who was threatening him with a stick. As he opened his mouth once more, Lord Noblis’ voice cut off whatever he was about to say.

“Narm?” Bietre’s thin mouth split into a grin, “As I live and breathe man, it is you!” the man looked positively delighted.

Caj almost let out a sigh of relief. Narm wasn’t mad, he knew the man. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Caj. He doubted that Narm could do much of anything that would surprise him anymore. He noted the slight accent in Bietre’s voice, a burr that was no doubt the result of his common mother who hailed from .

“Burn me with the Chaff, the last time a saw you, that leg of yours was still in a cast, and you were beating one of my officers half to death with your crutch.” Caj tensed up again, that description of events sounded ominous at best, but the Lord of Spears simply looked at Narm ponderously for a moment. “I almost didn’t recognize you, your beard was almost black back then, and you still had some hair. Reapers scythe and sickle, how long has it been? Captain Solis, stop gripping your halberd like it’s the neck of your dearly departed father and eyeing Narm that way. He might take it as a threat, and then you might get hurt.” Captain Solis looked affronted but stropped trying to compress his halberd into an elongated toothpick.

“No need to worry about that, son,” Narm said with a wicked grin, “I don’t view you and your halberd as a threat, since you rather obviously aren’t very good with it, and prefer that sword of yours.”

This time captain Solis definitely looked affronted, and he lashed out with the butt of his halberd directly at Narm’s head. It wasn’t a lethal blow by any means, just meant to stun and draw a little blood, demanding the respect of in insulting passerby. Caj moved without thinking. Caj was not nearly as graceful as Narm, but what he lacked for in grace and poise that comes from long experience, he made up for with the vigor of youth. His right hand collided with the iron-shod haft of the halberd, and rather than guide it out of the way as Narm might, he simply gave it a shove. Narm was right when he noted that the man was not very skilled with his halberd, his hands were too close together, giving him poor leverage to stop Caj’s shove, and he held the haft to close to the head, with a death grip rather than the relaxed but firm grip Narm had taught Caj, making it easy for Caj to seize the haft and yank the man off balance. The captain’s grip was stiff, making his movements clunky, and Caj barely thought before using his superior leverage to twist the man’s halberd from his hands. It all happened in less than three seconds, barely giving Caj time to scamper out of the way of Solis’ bay horse’s rearing hooves.

The entirety of the fairgrounds had gone dead silent, and every face showed surprise, and shock. Even Narm had two eyebrows raised in a questioning look. Caj was no exception to the feeling and felt shocked to be holding the weapon belonging to one of the Goldstern City Guards. An officer no less, a man who was supposed to have considerably more training than the average soldier. He realized that he had been standing in a combat ready stance and flushed in embarrassment. He came to attention as Narm had taught him with the quarterstaff. Left hand behind his back, right hand extended to the side with the butt of the halberd firmly planted in the cobblestone street. As soon as he did it, he knew it was a mistake, as now he was garnering even more attention, especially from the three other officers with Lord Noblis and Captain Solis. Narm coughed meaningfully and said in a loud enough voice for all the men in women in the courtyard to hear.

“Manners, Caj.” Caj flushed again, then preformed a deep apologetic bow to first the Commander, and then the Captain. His cracked slightly with strain when he spoke, earning several laughs from the mixed crowd that had stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on.

“My apologies your lordship, Captain, I acted without regard for my surroundings or company, and must beg your pardon for any insult caused. Such a result, while foreseeable, was not the intent of my actions.”

He looked sharply at the Captain then, and something of Narm came over him, all at once. He performed an even deeper, more eloquent bow, extending a leg behind him, the type of bow one could only give in either earnest or mocking. Let the Captain decide which he preferred to believe.

“I do not have the wisdom and experience of my caretaker Narm, and so could not ascertain that you were not a threat. Now though, I am thoroughly satisfied with his judgement.” Narm coughed, stifling a laugh, as did several others in the fairgrounds, but the wiry, birdlike man that was Lord Noblis had absolutely no such compunctions. His booming laugh split the air in a sound that seemed too big to come from his body.

“Oh, stop scowling Solis,” he said after having recovered somewhat, “I did warn you. If Master Narm says you need to work on your halberd work, I suggest you hop to it. He has a way of knowing about these things.” there was still laughter in the Commanders voice. The Captain straightened indignantly, apparently angry at the insult to his person, and opened his mouth with a rash look on his face. In return, the Commanders demeanor changed in a heartbeat, turning into that of a hawk regarding a mouse. “You are dismissed, Captain. That is not a request or a jest. I haven’t seen Narm in nearly twenty years, and we have some catching up to do.”

The Captain gave a surly salute, and a rude gesture in the direction of Narm and Caj, and then rode away. Caj, for his part, was still jittery. He was high off the adrenaline of the moment, with nerves taut as the ropes on a ship at sea. Lord Noblis gave a hefty sigh, and then a weary smile in Narm’s direction.

“How are you Narm? It’s been too long.” He dismounted and held out his hand towards Narm, and Narm grasped his forearm in the greeting of an old friend.

“It’s been too long.” he agreed readily, he picked up the bundle of clothing from where Caj had dropped it, retaining also the other flask that was resting atop it.

“I have been well all things considered,” he said as he placed the bundle, sans the flask into Caj’s hand. He placed the flask in his belt pouch with the other one but kept the glass bottle in his left hand for the time being. “Been keeping this one from getting himself killed for the past 14 years or so.” He grinned at Caj to ensure no offense was taken. “Which reminds me of why we are here. Young Master Caj has reached his majority as of this morning, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind in assisting us at making that official.” Bietre eyed Caj interestedly before nodding.

“As long as you don’t mind me bringing a couple of others to the celebration?” he asked, but his eyes never left Caj.

“It doesn’t matter to me, as long as they bring their own drink, I only brought enough for us three.” Bietre nodded once in affirmation, still keeping his eyes firmly on Caj.

“Have we met before, Caj?” Bietre was peering into Caj’s face, his multicolor gaze intent and piercing. Caj had to work not to shift uncomfortably. He felt poorly attired, dressed only in his digging clothes, and covered in sweat from the early summer day. The man standing before him was one of his childhood heroes, and a Lord besides. Narm was apparently on good terms with the man, but there was no guarantee that benevolence extended to him. No guarantee at all. By all accounts, Lord Bietre Noblis was a noble and fair man, but he was still a Lord. If there was one thing Caj had learned from his extensive study of manners, it was that Lords could be notoriously fickle creatures. He bowed deeply, right fist over his chest, left behind his back.

“Pardon me, your Lordship, but I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.” That was a safe statement. Right? Surely there was no way that Bietre could take offense to that. The Lord smirked,

“Let’s not have any of that. It’s your nameday, that gives you a pass.” Narm snorted from behind, apparently finding the Lord’s words amusing. Bietre shot Narm a dark look that earned him another snort. Caj wasn’t surprised. When it came to dark looks, Narm was a master. Bietre refocused on Caj. “You remind me of someone I once met young man. In fact, you look exactly like him. Save for your eyes.”

He stared intently into Caj’s eyes, studying them. Caj couldn’t remember the last time he had been made this uncomfortable so many times in a single day. He had to hand it to Narm, the old man certainly knew how to make a boy’s fifteenth nameday interesting. Caj said nothing and tried not to squirm. He wanted to look to Narm for reassurance, but he knew that was not what was expected of him. He could hear Narm’s voice in his mind.

When you are in an uncertain situation, when you do not know your standing, pretend you do. When you are completely assured of your standing, pretend you aren’t. In this way, you control every situation, and the one who controls the situation, is the one who controls the outcome.

Caj had absolutely no illusions about who was in control of this situation. Lord Bietre Noblis was one of the foremost sword masters on the continent, the Lord Commander of roughly half of the forces belonging to both the Duke of the Sea and the Duke of Ships. The man was almost certainly in control of the situation. He heard Narm’s voice again.

When you find yourself in a situation where you are not in control, remind the controller that while they control the situation, they do not control you. Do not allow them to master you, let them think that your decisions are your own, and they will give you the opportunity to make them such.

So, in complete contrast to what he wanted to do, Caj did not take his eyes from Bietre’s. The Lords face was blank, and silence had fallen over their portion of the Fairgrounds. Eventually the whipcord thin man nodded once, and in a movement too quick for Caj to follow consciously, the ornate dagger that had been at Bietre’s waist was at Caj’s throat. Caj also realized that he had moved without thinking once more, trying to block the movement that his mind had caught, but his eyes hadn’t. Unfortunately, the Lord of Spears was a tall man, much taller than Caj, taller than any man he had ever seen before. His arms were accordingly longer, so the block that Caj had instinctively raised to stop the knife had landed in the man’s elbow instead of his forearm, and the knife was not impeded sufficiently. The knife was away from Caj’s throat almost as soon as it had arrived, and a wide smile had replaced Bietre’s blank expression.

“No worries solnyshko,” he said, and again, Caj could detect the slight accent that marked his mixed parentage, his mother being an Edralian barmaid. “Just wanted to check something.” He pulled the sheath out of his belt and replaced the knife in it.

“Come.” he said. “I offer my hospitality. I hope you bought that strawberry wine I like; you know I don’t drink anything else other than brandy.” Narm held up the bottle that Caj had nearly shattered, shaking it in the direction of Bietre.

“I may be old Bietre, but I’m not so old to have forgotten your temper tantrums.” He grimaced as though tasting something particularly bad. “I doubt I will ever forget that.” Bietre laughed heartily, but continued walking, never looking back.