Rislain spoke to the bard again three days later.
He had been holding court, dealing with rumors of apostates and mutterings of discontent. The bard was standing off to the side, at his usual place near his uncle. When Rislain passed a light sentence upon a peasant that made jests of his parentage, the bard tugged his moustache and smiled.
Not that Rislain would ever admit to noticing that.
As the assemblage dispersed and Rislain headed back to his much-beloved study, he was intercepted by the bard, his smile light but his eyes piercing.
"That was well done, your Grace. I have met so many nobles that lack a sense of humor, to finally see one able to take a joke is refreshing."
Rislain was of half a mind to dismiss the man sharply and move on, but then he recalled the party and the well-worded warning.
I may as well hear what he has to say this time.
"I am always glad to be of service to my people. Was there something you wished to speak to me about?"
Something shifted in the bard's smile, and Rislain had the feeling that he had passed some sort of test.
"Yes, in fact. Have you ever heard of a group called the Black Dogs, your Grace?"
He shook his head.
"Well, you soon will. They've been spotted coming up the south road. A nasty bunch of bandits, them." His voice remained light, but the look in his eye grew sharper. "I've heard awful stories of their conquests. Told a few, too. Burnt villages, pillaged farms, raped women… very thorough, that lot."
The familiar mixture of worry and weariness settled onto Rislain's shoulders, a common feeling since his ascendance to the seat of the Marquisate. "Thank you for informing me of this. If you will excuse me, I must have a conversation with the head of the guard." A conversation consisting of "Why did you not notice this earlier, you buffoon!" and "We must gather every guard available. Yes, I mean every guard!"
"Ah," the bard spoke again, "a moment before you leave, your Grace?"
"Yes?" He asked brusquely. Rislain did owe the man, if his information was correct, but a lot had to be done, quickly.
"From what I've heard the leader of this group, while a brute, is somewhat reasonable. And partial to spiced wine."
Rislain slowly turned to look at the rather smug-looking bard, turned away, and shook his head slightly. How do you even learn these things? is what he wanted to ask, but instead what came out of his mouth was, "Why are you doing this?"
The bard grinned and bowed. "I am loyal to Serault… and her handsome Marquis."
If Rislain rushed to speak with his guard captain, seneschal and cook, he told himself it was because there were urgent matters to discuss and not because he was blushing.