Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 588: A Knight and You

That night, the halls of Redwater Castle were lit from within — candles and lamps and a warm brightness that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Servants moved through the crowd carrying glasses. Musicians played something unobtrusive in the corner. Dishes arrived in succession, and the red wine in the goblets caught the candlelight and held it.

The noblemen and women had sorted themselves into clusters of two and three and talked over their cups. Edith orbited the room with Earl Delta in close attendance, moving from group to group with the ease of someone who had spent her entire childhood learning precisely this kind of space. The earl’s expression, at all times, said that he had decided she was the most interesting thing in the room.

She appeared to be enjoying herself.

Brian stood near the wall and tried not to look like he was standing near the wall.

The collar of his dress shirt was wrong. The coat restricted his arms. The high-heeled boots with their pointed toes made the polished floor feel like an active threat — he could not understand how the nobles moved on it without falling, and envied Van’er with a ferocity that surprised him. Van’er, safe with the battalion, in real clothes.

Then he remembered what Edith had said. You represent His Majesty. He straightened his spine.

A hand on his shoulder.

He turned to find Sir Eltek — broad-shouldered formal attire, a white scarf at his neck, looking nothing like his everyday self and entirely unbothered by this.

“First banquet?” Eltek read him immediately.

“I’m not—”

“It doesn’t matter. No one is naturally good at everything. There’s no shame in it.” He lifted his shoulders easily. “Where is Lord Iron Axe?”

Brian pointed. Across the hall, Iron Axe stood near Iffy and Sylvie, both of them visibly uncomfortable in the dresses Edith had found them at the last possible moment, both drawing considerably more attention than either wanted. “He’s not protecting the witches,” Brian said. “He’s protecting the nobles. If Iffy gets irritated, they’ll suffer.”

They looked at each other and both of them laughed at the same moment.

“You see?” Eltek said. “Relaxed.”

“I — thank you.”

The old knight beckoned a servant and accepted a glass of wine. “Would you like one?”

“No. His Majesty: no drinking on duty.”

“Even when resting?”

“It’s a rule.”

Eltek sipped alone. “A pity.”

Silence for a moment. Brian watched the room.

“Something Miss Edith said,” he started. “That knights shouldn’t refuse invitations like this. That we represent His Majesty.”

“That part is true,” Eltek said.

Brian felt the weight of it. “Then I’m not qualified. I can’t move through a room the way she does. I can’t — manage this naturally.”

“True,” Eltek agreed, without softening it. “Some people are born to it. Others aren’t. A knight who handles a banquet well can bring his lord real advantages — political ones, sometimes important ones. But that’s not the whole definition of the work.” A pause. “My son. Ferlin Eltek. Dawn Glory.”

“I know the name.”

“He avoids occasions like this whenever he can manage it. Half the nobility in King’s City have met him twice thinking it was their first time. He never announces himself.” A smile moved through his beard. “No one would call him a poor knight for it.”

“I didn’t know that about him.”

“There’s a great deal that doesn’t travel.” Eltek touched the glass. “He also married a civilian woman. Irene. I cut him off at the time — rage, pride, the usual. Then I met her and could find no fault with her. She was everything a noble woman is supposed to be, without the title. It had been hard for both of them, and the difficulty was my doing.” He shifted. “I heard you fought the grain rebels. To protect Border Town’s supply.”

“Nightingale stopped them,” Brian said. A little embarrassed. “If she hadn’t arrived in time, I’d have died in that basement.”

“But you were there.” Eltek’s voice was even. “You went forward when most people would have found a reason not to. That is braver than many titled men who have titles precisely because they were born into the right family.” He looked at Brian steadily. “His Majesty did not knight you for your table manners. He knighted you for what you did when it mattered. Stay who you are. That’s sufficient.”

Something shifted in Brian’s chest — something he would have been unable to name if pressed.

“Thank you,” he said. “For saying that.”

“Think of it as conversation between equals. You reminded me of Ferlin, and I couldn’t stop myself.” Eltek touched his beard. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment.

“The other thing she said,” Brian began, without meaning to. “About these occasions being dull. But she — looks like she’s genuinely enjoying it.”

Sir Eltek’s expression shifted to something that might have been amusement.

“You watch her closely.”

“I’m curious. Not — I’m only — she said she found these things boring. But she seems—”

“Some people are capable of managing every situation beautifully without enjoying any of them.” Eltek let the words land. “They are gifted, and the gift expresses itself in everything — even the things they would rather not do. A duke’s daughter absorbs social performance the way a soldier absorbs weapons drill. The skill is real. The appetite is separate.” A glance toward where Edith held the room. “She’s exceptional. That doesn’t mean she wants it.”

“His Majesty needs someone like her,” Brian said.

“Perhaps.” Eltek was noncommittal. “He also needs people entirely unlike her. No one carries every quality — there’s a limit to what any one person can hold. You are recognized for what you bring, which is different from what she brings, and not lesser.” He paused. “From what I’ve seen of Neverwinter — what he’s built there — I think His Majesty understands this.”

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