Titus

"His name?"

"Ollo of Lannisport," came the grim reply. "He stands accused of four murders, my lord."

The chained man raised his head. "I am innocent!"

"Silence!" Lord Folsted Crakehall took a step forward. "I will rip that tongue out myself if you interrupt a second time!"

Ollo rolled his eyes, but said nothing more.

"As I was saying, Lord Titus," Crakehall resumed in his bear's growl of a voice. "This is a villain of the most vile order. A man who fought for the black dragon!"

Titus frowned. "He is not on trial for fighting in the rebellion, Lord Crakehall." It was an old story for Titus; the old grudges had not died, not even nine years after the war had been fought. Seasons may pass, he thought ruefully, but memories did not pass with them.

Crakehall said nothing to that. He turned back to the crowd, as if they had any sway in this trial. "He broke into a house, murdered four people sleeping inside it, and burned their home for good measure!"

Titus sighed. Such accounts were the worst ones for him to endure. He could not hear stories of fire and death without flinching. He felt the same cruel memories coming back. He felt his breathing grow more rapid, and he forced himself to take deeper breaths through his nose. It had become necessary to learn how to master himself when painful memories gripped his recollection.

"Apologies, Lord Crakehall," Titus declared. "Could you repeat those last words?"

"I said that he left a survivor in his wake, and she will freely name him as the killer of her kin."

Folsted had been welcoming and courteous, in his own rough-hewn way, but Titus could tell that he was unnerved all the same. Like most lords whom Titus visited, he was unversed in playing a subservient role when it came to trials on his own territory.

"Bring her forward, my lord," Titus commanded.

She looked to be seven or eight years of age by Titus' guess. Her chestnut-coloured hair had been almost completely shorn from her head, and it only drew attention to her large blue eyes. Her skin was dotted with abundant freckles, except for where it had been scarred with burn marks across her face and neck. Doubtless, she had more burns across her body, hidden by her clothing. Clutching a toy in one hand, she was trembling fearfully as she stepped forward, guided by an old septa.

"What is your name, child?" Titus asked her quietly.

Her wide eyes grew wider still. Her mouth opened, but she spoke no words.

"This is Miru, daughter of Symond and Rhona, humble folk and godly too."

Lord Crakehall's words prompted several of the assembled smallfolk to cry out in support. Titus looked over them; their grief did not seem feigned, nor were their looks of loathing upon Ollo of Lannisport.

Titus turned back to Ollo. He was no longer a young man, nor was he well-kept. He'd been held prisoner in Crakehall for at least two weeks. His beard was wild, the colour of red gold, whilst the blond hair on his head had receded from his forehead. He was broadly built, but he was clearly underfed.

"Now, Miru," Folsted urged. "Be a good little girl and show us who you saw that night."

Titus watched the trembling girl slowly lift a hand into the air. Her little finger was unmistakably pointing at Ollo.

Jeers and shouts burst from dozens of throats. Ollo did not so much as bat an eye.

Titus held up a hand for silence. He was weary of this trial. He arose and looked upon Ollo. "Do you have any final words before you are sentenced?"

For the first time, Ollo looked him in the eye. His face might as well have been carved out of wood. He was suddenly reminded of Ser Aegor Rivers, the knight known to all the realm as Bittersteel.

"My conscience is clear," Ollo declared. "Kill an innocent man if you wish, and may the gods curse you for it!" He opened his mouth to speak again, but the crowd erupted into angry shouts.

Titus turned and glared at Lord Crakehall. "If you cannot control these folk, disperse them."

Lord Crakehall bristled at being given commands, but he obeyed nonetheless. "SILENCE," he bellowed at the top of his lungs. The crowd complied immediately.

Titus turned back to Ollo. "You were saying?"

Ollo hesitated for a moment, then he shook his head and shrugged. "What does it matter what I have to say? I will get no justice here. Not unless it comes from the gods themselves." He did not speak the words openly, but Titus understood what he was requesting.

"So be it," Titus announced. "Your trial by combat will be carried out on the morrow." He turned to Lord Crakehall. "Make sure he eats and sleeps well this night. It may very well be his last." He turned to those in attendance. "The gods will defend only the righteous, and the truth shall be revealed by their will. When it does, the king's justice shall prevail. The gods will reward the truth, and punish the lie."

Those last words were lightly spoken, for Titus did not believe in them anymore. The gods cared nothing for justice, else the realm would look much different than it did. And besides, he had seen far too much evil, in war and in peacetime, to truly believe that the gods would provide justice to the world.

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"How does His Grace fare, Lord Titus?"

"Well enough, last I saw," Titus answered, "though I have been away from the capital for quite some time."

For all his quiet resentment of Titus' presence, Folsted Crakehall had not been niggardly with his hospitality. The ale and mead flowed for all, the meat was plentiful, and the musicians knew their business well. Of course, Titus understood that the extravagance hadn't been done without a purpose or two. They always have a purpose of their own. What's yours, Crakehall?

But at present, the lord was feasting raucously with his knights. He did not seem to have any special request for Titus, as many other lords did. Mayhaps he wants someone else to speak his words to me?

Nearby, Ser Baelon Massey was feasting as well, eating and drinking as if he were still a young man. Titus couldn't help but be worried about his old friend. Baelon trained with weapons almost every day, but he was still growing stout. For his part, Titus had noticed that he too was getting wider in the belt, and he'd begun to dread looking at his reflection, convinced that he too was growing fat. Five years before, Grand Maester Arwood had advised him to give up ale and wine. He hadn't had a drop since then, and he only ate two meals per day, but it did not rid him of his anxiety.

To his credit, Lord Crakehall had offered Titus his ornately carved seat. Titus respected that, but he had humbly refused. Instead, he sat in the middle of the highborn table. Lady Crakehall had been careful to seat two of her daughters on either side of Titus. Her sons sat elsewhere along the table, as did other members of their family and household.

Elissa and Leto Crakehall were both striking women to look upon. The latter had inherited her father's golden-brown mane, whilst the former's locks were flaxen like her Lannister mother. Both were unmistakably Crakehalls; they were formidably built, with large bosoms, and they were of a similar height to Titus, who had always been the tallest in his family.

"Have you displeased the king that he sends you so far away from the capital?"

"Leto! That is most impertinent!" Lady Crakehall admonished her elder daughter, but Titus could not help thinking that her outrage was only put on. For his own part, the question had been asked so playfully that it could not offend him.

"It would please him less if I spent all my time in the Red Keep," Titus answered. "The king and his heir both agree that a true master of laws must travel."

"To what end?" Leto asked. Her younger sister paid Titus little heed, preferring to speak with the steward. His name was Brodda, he was at least ten years older than Titus, and he was apparently a distant kinsman to Lord Crakehall.

Titus continued; his eyes flickered between Lady Crakehall and Leto. "It is part of my duty to make tours of the Seven Kingdoms. What better way to understand the laws of men than to see how men live under them?"

Leto smiled. "A very noble errand, my lord. No doubt many nobles share that sentiment when you visit them."

Titus laughed, even as Lady Crakehall glanced at her husband. After nearly ten years of serving as the master of laws, Leto was one of only a handful who came close to speaking the plain truth to his face.

He took another sip of water before addressing Leto again. "I will not deny that I have noticed some reticence and reluctance. It amuses me to ponder that mystery."

Leto's smirk widened at Titus' sarcasm. "Mayhaps these lords have a problem with a Crown's representative usurping their authority on their own land. Mayhaps they even fear it."

Titus could no longer tell if she was still playing a game. "Many would be right to fear it," he remarked mirthlessly. "A just realm would not abide any man to rise above the laws."

Leto's mirth faded, but she did not dispute his words.

"If I may ask," Lady Crakehall interjected, "what are your plans, Lord Titus?"

"I have no intention of wearing out my welcome here, rest assured," Titus affirmed. He saw that Lady Crakehall was about to make the usual protests, and so he cut her off before she could begin. "I intend to ride for Old Oak after Ollo's trial by combat."

Leto chose that moment to intervene again. "And have you decided whom he will face?"

Titus had not, but he was suddenly feeling reckless as he looked into her grey eyes. "I believe I will face him myself."

Lady Crakehall gave a start. "You, Lord Titus?"

"Indeed." Titus leaned back, determined to appear careless. "Have you ever been to the North, by any chance?"

"We have not had the pleasure of such a visit," Lady Crakehall replied. It was clear that she would not consider it a pleasure to be in the coldest of the Seven Kingdoms.

"House Stark has ruled that land for thousands of years, or so it is said. And one of their most ancient traditions is that a man who passes judgment of death should administer it themselves. Elsewise they might grow too fond of justice."

"Or they might develop a sharper appetite for it," Leto observed neutrally.

Gods, you are such a devil. Titus found himself paying more and more attention to Leto. She seemed to be half his age, but she was remarkably daring and sharp-tongued for a highborn lady. He also appreciated the sight of her in such a low-cut dress, which left very little to the imagination. What made it better was that she seemed fully aware of the effect and seemed to enjoy his attention.

Unfortunately, Lady Crakehall chose that moment to urge her daughters to bed. Or perhaps she only said so because her drunk husband had begun a duel with Baelon Massey. Titus laughed as they swung at each other with half-eaten legs of lamb.

He stayed long enough to ensure that Baelon did not seriously injure himself, then he too departed. The Crakehalls had accorded him one of their best rooms as his own, and he was looking forward to a good night's rest.

One of his guards was on duty at the door. He nodded to Titus when he saw him. "Sleep well, my lord."

Titus halted; he recognised that tone. "What do you mean, Alyn?"

Ser Alyn Garner grinned mischievously. "Go and see for yourself. I am sworn to silence."

Gods. He gave his former squire a playful shove as he opened the door and walked inside.

It was a large bed, enough for three or four people to use comfortably, and even in the dark, Titus could sense someone was already tucked in, waiting for him. He could see their form, hear their breathing, and soon smelled a myriad of perfumes when he lifted the sheets.

"I expected you later," she whispered. "I thought you might drink with my father."

"I gave up drinking spirits," Titus replied. "Mayhaps I am getting old."

Leto Crakehall sat up so that a shaft of moonlight illuminated her naked body. She bit her lip as she assisted Titus with getting undressed. She moaned as his hands squeezed her generous breasts, even when he cut her off with a kiss. One of her hands grasped his cock, guiding it beneath her protruding belly to the quivering mass of brown hair between her legs.

It was the hour of the wolf before her insatiable and expansive appetite was finally slaked, long after he himself had been utterly spent.

I'm getting old, he thought ruefully as tried to find a dry patch of bedsheet. There was a time when he could have bedded Elissa and Leto together if they'd both wanted him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering why Lord Crakehall sent one of his daughters to my bed."

Leto did not giggle, as he expected. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think he did?"

"You think you're the first noblewoman who I've found in my bed?" Leto put on an air of mock surprise and pretended to gasp. He responded by squeezing one breast hard enough to make her squeal.

"So, does he want something? Some sort of favour of the Crown? Is that the way of it?"

He could almost see the distant moon reflected in Leto's eyes; for a brief moment, he caught a hurt expression in them. "Perhaps I simply wanted you? Who wouldn't want to bed a man who commanded Baelor's right flank at the Redgrass Field?"

And who braved the Isle of Skagos, and who turned the tide at Durran's Barrow, and who rode down the flower of House Swann… Titus had heard all these and more. He had enjoyed the favours of men and women alike, highborn and lowborn, old and young. Oftentimes he was not sure if they were his conquest or if he was theirs. He did not have to wonder about Leto Crakehall, however.

Although she was drenched with sweat, her beautiful plump body was warm to the touch. Titus drew her close, wishing that he could take her again. I'm getting old. Old and fat like my father.

"What was it like?" she whispered.

Titus suddenly felt sour. "What do you expect me to say? That it was the best day of my life?"

"It was surely not the worst."

"Nay," Titus allowed, "it wasn't the worst. But not far off."

"Why?"

Why, indeed. "Because just when we had finally achieved victory, I suddenly wished that I'd fought for the side that lost."

Leto's back straightened where she lay. "Truly?"

"Only for a moment," Titus clarified. "But it was a moment where I truly understood what Daemon Blackfyre was. He was not a monster, as many claim now, but nor was he a god, as those exiles in Essos must think of him. He was just a man, trapped in a life he never asked for, forced to fulfill the evil fate which had been woven for him."

"The gods are cruel," Leto murmured.

"It was his enemies who wove that fate," Titus observed bitterly, "and his friends too, for that matter."

"Do you not blame the gods?"

"More and more, I think men hide behind the gods to shirk responsibility."

Leto lay beside him, a thoughtful expression on her face, but she said nothing.

"You had best retire," Titus suggested, "not even a Crakehall can avoid scandal."

Leto gave him a mischievous smile before slipping out of bed, donning her robe and cloak, then quietly departing the room. Titus wished that she could have stayed with him that night, but enthralling as she was, he knew she would not have saved him from unpleasant dreams.

He was still waiting for sleep when he heard soft knocks on the door.

"Gods be good, no more," Titus groaned. "If I use it again, it might fall off!"

"My lord?"

Titus sat up in astonishment.

The voice was faint, but it did not belong to Leto.

"What is it, Alyn?"

"Someone has an urgent message for you. One which will save a man's life."

Forgetting his weariness, Titus hastily got dressed and opened the door. Alyn Garner still stood to attention. With him was the wizened septa whom Titus had seen at Ollo's trial. She had escorted the little girl who named Ollo as her family's killer.

Now she curtsied clumsily before Titus, introduced herself as Bethany, then spoke in a voice made harsh by age and vehemence.

"The child, Miru… she claimed that Ollo was responsible for the deaths of her kin. She came to me in great secrecy. She confessed that she lied when you asked her to name those responsible."

Titus frowned. "If it was not Ollo, then who was it?"

"My lord, it is not so simple as that. There are men from Lord Crakehall's garrison who were responsible for the grisly deed itself, but the child claims that the leader was Crakehall's kinsman, Brodda."

"The steward?" Titus shook his head. "What sort of madness is this?"

"He is a man of many sins, and Miru was made aware of them. Against her will."

Bethany looked as though this was the closest she could come to speaking plainly, but that was all Titus needed to hear. He had too much experience with men who preyed on those too young to fight back. His hands were tightly clenched, and he was struggling to keep his breathing steady.

"Take me to her."

The girl was quietly crying in Bethany's humble chamber. When she beheld Titus, she threw herself at his feet.

"Tell the king I'm sorry! I didn't want to lie! I was afraid!" Her little shoulders shook with terror. She could barely speak for sobbing.

Titus felt ill to look upon such a broken child. He knelt down so that they were close to the same height. "What was your lie?"

"My lord," Bethany protested, "I-"

"I want to hear it from her," Titus calmly insisted. He turned back to Miru. "What happened?"

The story came in fits and starts, told by a child, but that was more than enough.

Her mother and father had spent their lives serving House Crakehall, the latter as a scullery maid and the former as an assistant in the stables. Miru had often joined her mother in cleaning the kitchen. Of course she had trusted the steward when he'd been kind to her, especially since he was a man of House Crakehall. She had not understood what he'd wanted, and she had cried out when it had hurt, but what terrified her more was his threats against her and her family. Then her father and mother had begun to ask her why she could not sleep, why she was so quiet, why she wept. Her older brother and sister had seen her go off with Brodda, and when they admitted such to their parents, Miru's father had confronted the steward with questions. Not long after that, men had burst into their humble abode and set fire to it. Miru had seen them kill her family, barely surviving the fire herself. She had been too frightened to name them, and when Lord Crakehall had arrested Ollo, she had dared not correct his mistake.

Rage coursed through Titus' veins as if it were blood. All the same, he smothered his anger; Miru was distressed enough as it was, clinging to Bethany as if she was her mother. "If I showed you those men, the ones who did the deed, would you know them? Speak truthfully now."

The tears coursed down Miru's face as she nodded her head.

"You have nothing more to fear from them," Titus urged. "I will make sure of that. I swear upon the king and the Seven. But I must know who they are."

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"You cannot mean to do this!"

"I can and I do," Titus affirmed.

Lord Crakehall was still dressed in his nightshirt as he blundered in Titus' wake. He clutched a hand to his head, and his gait was clumsy. "The sentence was passed! The gods await his trial by combat!"

"There will be no trial," Titus decreed as he continued to descend the staircase. "The evidence against Ollo was false, and therefore the first sentence is voided."

Baelon Massey had been too drunk to rouse from sleep. Instead, it was Ser Alyn Garner, his dusky face grim to look upon, who led the way with a torch in one hand and a longsword in the other. Titus also held his sword of black Valyrian steel, which he'd once called Doom in bitter jest. He'd since made sure that it earned its name.

"False?" Now Lord Folsted sounded deeply alarmed, and fully awake for the first time since he'd stumbled out of his bed.

"Aye, my lord," Titus insisted, "and I charge you in the name of the king to aid me now without further question."

The barracks were quiet at this late hour. No man was prepared for the sudden arrival of Titus' guards. Soon, every man of Lord Crakehall's garrison was kneeling beside their beds, ordered under pain of death to keep their arms behind their back and their eyes on the floor.

Only when that was done did Titus bring Miru into the room. She was weeping again, but she made no sound.

"Your family's killers, child." Titus gestured to the rows of kneeling men. "Their punishment awaits."

Suddenly, one of the kneeling men gave a strangled cry. "Mercy! I only did as I was commanded!"

Titus turned to Miru. "Do you see him? Was he one of the men who butchered your family and burned your house?"

Miru hesitated, still trembling from fear and grief. Then, she nodded and spoke in a soft voice. "He killed my brother."

Lord Crakehall had gone pale. Alyn Garner raised his sword, until Titus shook his head. He knelt down and offered Miru his hand. "Come with me and name the others, child. See how they cannot harm you now? And soon, they will never harm you again."

Trembling, she pointed a little finger to four other men. All of them immediately protested that they had followed someone else's orders. To be sure, Titus had them all taken away and subjected to interrogation.

By the time Titus had confirmed the truth, the sun was beginning to rise. He wanted to get this business done with, but arrangements needed to be made.

After her part in the barracks was over, Miru had been brought to Alyn's room, where she could sleep undisturbed under heavy guard. She was still awake when Titus strode through the door.

He set down his sword at the door, walked to the foot of her bed, and knelt upon the floor so that she looked down at him. "Do you have any other kin still living?"

Miru paused, then shook her head.

"Those men will never harm you again, but I daresay they have friends who will not forget this. I mean to leave once this business is done. Will you come with me?"

Miru's big eyes grew bigger still. "Where?"

"Many places, but my home is in King's Landing. I will ensure that you are looked after."

The girl trembled, but she did not weep. She simply nodded her head.

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"You have been found innocent."

Ollo gave a mirthless smile. "That is good news."

Titus did not blame him for being bitter. "I will personally compensate you for your troubles. Enough gold so you can start again somewhere else. I can escort you away from Crakehall too."

Ollo's hard face became contemplative for a moment before he gave his answer. "And what if I wished to serve you instead?"

"Me?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Why do you wish to serve me?"

"I was there when you bade the Black Dragon farewell."

Of course… It was another memory which he would never forget. He had looked down upon the body of Daemon Blackfyre, pitying his plight. His bitterness against Bloodraven and the empathy he'd felt for Daemon had led to a heartfelt eulogy which the Blackfyre supporters had not forgotten.

Titus sighed. He had dealt with this sort of thing ever since that bloody speech. "If you were there, you would surely recall which side I was on."

"I do recall it," Ollo replied laconically, "and King Daemon's dead. I've no wish to go and die in Essos; what's done is done. But I would sooner serve a just man."

Titus was flattered, but he continued to look sternly at Ollo. "You should know that the child Miru will be going with us too, as my ward. She risked a great deal to confess the truth to me. I will not have you hold any grudge against her."

"A grudge? Against a little girl?" Ollo shook his head. "Besides, what harm could I do that she hasn't already suffered? Her family and half her face gone up in flames?"

"That might be the least of the pain she has suffered."

Ollo did a double take at these words, or perhaps it was Titus' tone which surprised him. "What do you mean?"

Titus might have told him, but instead he elected to show him. The first bit of compensation that he will receive.

Dozens of the castle's inhabitants were already in the hall, awaiting breakfast, when Titus and his men burst in with Lord Crakehall in tow.

Brodda Hill sat at the head table where he'd sat at dinner the night before, as befitting his title and position in the castle. He gave a squawk of alarm as Titus seized him by the throat, then whimpered at the expression on Titus' face.

"You miserable filth," Titus snarled as he forced the man to stand up. He recalled what Miru had told him, and though he hadn't slept all night, he felt his weariness evaporate into the warm air.

Men and women cried out for the guards, but Alyn and his men stood by and protected Titus. Ollo stood with them, smiling dangerously.

"Tell me what you did to Miru, you villain," Titus shouted, even as he gestured to the shocked onlookers. "Say it so they can all hear you!"

"My lord, this is no way to-" Lord Crakehall began to protest, but Titus was having none of it.

"Do you wish to side with this man?" Titus drew Doom and pointed it at the big man, furious enough to attack him next if given cause. His voice rose to a scream. "Will you defend a man who put his hands on children? Who led your soldiers to slaughter a child's family? Or mayhaps you know more about it than you claim?"

Onlookers gasped and cried aloud at Titus' accusations. Red-faced, Lord Crakehall said nothing more.

"And you." Titus turned back to the hapless steward. Brodda's face was wet with tears, as well as the spittle flying from Titus' mouth. "You dare to weep? Do you need men-at-arms to stand behind you to feel courageous?"

"Unhand me," the man squealed, struggling to pry Titus' hand off his neck. "You cannot assault me like this! This is my family's hall!"

"Of course," Titus snarled. "You counted on that, did you not? How many little girls have you touched? How many little boys?"

The steward protested again, but his face had changed. Titus found himself looking at the master-at-arms of Horn Hill. Danel Benoff, who had ambushed his friend Willem Wylde and raped him, confident that he would avoid any punishment. Willem had not been Benoff's first, Titus was sure of that. Just as he was sure that this steward had committed this crime many times before. The soldiers had admitted as much when Titus had interrogated them.

Titus turned to Ollo. "Take him outside. We have proven his guilt more than enough."

"My lord!" Lord Crakehall protested, utterly aghast. "What are you going to do?"

"No more than what you would do if it was your child that he touched," Titus snapped. "And for all I know, he touched every one of your children!" He suddenly noticed that one of Crakehall's brood had entered the hall. Leto was dressed far more modestly than the night before, and now she gaped at what was unfolding. He paid her little heed as he led his men out of the hall. Folsted, Leto, and a number of others trailed in their wake.

The steward babbled and whined, threatened and begged, cursed and wailed. None of it swayed Titus as he ordered Ollo and Alyn to make the man kneel in the yard. The morning sun cast a golden light over the scene.

Brodda had lost all dignity as Titus stood over him with Doom in both hands. "Mercy, lord! Let me go to the Wall! In the name of the gods, have pity!"

"I do have pity, but not for you," Titus rasped; his voice was hoarse from wrath and weariness. "I pity the children whom you preyed upon." He raised his voice again, so that all who looked on could hear. "Behold! Let the gods witness this man where he kneels! If they disapprove of what I do now, may they strike the sword from my hand. If what they see is just, I will deliver unto Brodda his rightful doom in the seven hells!" And with that, he lifted Doom above his head, and brought it down with all his might upon Brodda's neck. The gods did nothing to stop the black Valyrian steel from slicing through flesh and bone as if they were made of cloth. Nor did they intervene when Brodda's head rolled away, his blood dripping from the severed neck.

Titus turned back to a horrified Lord Crakehall. "The king's justice has been upheld. I thank you for your courtesy and your hospitality. If you will arrange for our journey south?"

"Gladly, my lord," Crakehall retorted in a voice made bitter with loathing. All pretense of courtesy was gone from his face. Titus still wondered how much Crakehall had known about his own steward's sinister actions, and he was still angry enough to accept a challenge if it was given to him.

No such challenge came from the boar lord. Instead, Crakehall's eyes shifted from Titus to Ollo, who returned his glance with a defiant smirk. "You will take that man with you?"

"Aye," Titus replied. "And Miru as well. Neither she nor Ollo are safe in this part of the realm, I'll warrant. I will spare you the trouble of protecting them." He did not wait to see how Crakehall took that; he was growing very tired now that the business was done.

She waited until he and his squires returned to his chamber to collect the rest of his belongings.

Leto stood in the doorway, looking at Titus as if for the first time. "You executed Brodda on my father's steps," she exclaimed. She sounded half dazed, as if she could still not believe it.

"Aye," Titus answered. "And I would do it again. Will you weep for a man who preyed upon children?"

Leto shuddered. "I cannot make sense of it. He was like an uncle to me. He taught my brothers how to read."

Titus had no time or patience for such sentiments. "You had best pray that he did not teach them more than that. Miru was not so fortunate."

Leto shuddered. "Is this what His Grace advised you to do when you took this title?"

"After a fashion," Titus answered. "Prince Baelor told me to bring justice to the people, even if the lords of the land stood in the way of it. I told you myself, did I not? Let these lords hate me, let them fear me as a monster if they must. Let them have a taste of how the smallfolk view them, and then they might hesitate to abuse their power."

Leto nodded slowly. "Then His Grace chose the right man for such a position."

Titus cocked his head as he regarded her. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Does it matter?"

Titus smiled coldly as he turned to his squires. "Cayn?"

The eldest boy looked up. "Aye, milord?"

"How much longer?"

"We're finished, milord."

Titus nodded. "Good lad. Let's be off."

The boys hurried out, but not before murmuring their respects to Leto.

Her eyes followed them out the door, before turning back to Titus. "Miru will be joining that brood, then?"

"Aye. She will."

Leto paused, then asked her next question in a quieter voice. "I hope that she will be safe."

Titus' mood softened. "I will do what I can for her."

The young lady shook her head. "I thought I had an idea of you, my lord. A hero of the war, men called you, a goodbrother to House Targaryen, master of laws. Now I will not look at you again without seeing my kinsman's head at your feet, or his blood on your clothes."

Titus had no answer for that. Certainly, he had no regrets about that. He simply shrugged.

Leto gave a shaky sigh as she stepped forward. "My father will not forgive you for this. He will speak to the Lannisters and they will speak to the king."

"Let them," Titus replied. "Septa Bethany and I will both write our own letters. I also have confessions in writing from the child, as well as five men in your father's own garrison." By now, he reckoned, all five would be dangling from nooses in the courtyard. "If Lord Lannister wishes to fight for such a man as Brodda, then I will face him in combat myself."

"How righteous of you."

Titus sensed the veiled scorn in her voice. "I have many sins of my own. I spent six years in exile for my worst crime. And during the war, the gods gave me enough grief for three lifetimes. If I can atone in any way, then I will spend the rest of my days bettering the realm, however little way that I can."

Leto gave a wan half-smile. "And what of our sins last night, my lord?"

Titus returned her smile. "You can confess them to Septa Bethany if you wish. I will join you in that before I depart. Perhaps she can absolve us both at once."

Much to his surprise, she did not laugh at his jest. It is no longer easy for her to laugh. Then she gave him a level look. "I wonder if you'll ever think of me after you depart this castle."

Titus suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he had no answer. He wondered what she meant by such a remark. Does she wish to come with me? Does she merely wish to offer a reproof? What does she want or expect from me?

"I thought not." Leto gave one final curtsy before she walked out of the room.

Titus did not leave the room for a moment. He pondered her words, her exit, and her intentions. Before he could come to a conclusion, Baelon Massey stumbled into his room, half-dressed and bleary-eyed. "Gods be good, Titus! What happened?"