“I don’t much care for Imperial civilization, or civilized places,” Ivar said frankly. “The last job I took put me up north, for the Empire. Luckily, there wasn’t anything up there the Emperor wanted—or at least, nothing he wants badly enough to open a second war front, while he’s still enmired up to his ass in the first one. The whole expedition was a slow push to find anyone and anything to exploit. Just—no sense of adventure from anyone but me, only a strict military operation with an eye for plunder. Timber and fish don’t interest him, thank the gods. I don’t want to do any more of those official forays; I’d rather rot of boredom. Your Plan? That suits me.”

They continued to talk all the way back to the manor, with Kordas becoming more and more comfortable with the younger man with every exchange. He watched how Ivar managed his horse: neck-rein and knee, mostly, which meant a skilled and considerate rider, and a confident and secure horse. The mastiff stayed about two lengths from the horse and even with the girth; the perfect distance to react to anything.

When they arrived at the manor, Kordas left Ivar, his dog, and his rucksack and bag with the chief steward, and took his horse and Ivar’s to the stable. As ever, Grim somehow materialized within moments of his crossing the threshold to the main stables.

“We have our scout, Grim,” he said. Grim nodded, since Kordas had kept him appraised of everything from the moment he had taken the reins of the Duchy. “Ivar Endicrag. This is his current horse, and I’m giving him Manta, so have her moved to a stall here tonight, please. He has a mastiff, so this is going to be interesting.”

Grim took the reins of Ivar’s horse, looked the beast over, checked the conformation and all four feet, and nodded approval. “Dog will not come amiss, if Manta will abide it.”

“If she won’t, Ivar’s not the man for this job, and I think he is,” Kordas replied, and left both horses in Grim’s care while he went back to the manor to wash up before dinner.

The chief steward met him at the door. “The young man is in your tower, ground floor guest room, m’lord.”

“Perfect, I can take him in to supper with me. Well done, Tomen.” He headed for the tower at a fast walk, and found Ivar already “settled,” insofar as such a footloose fellow could be, and once they were both respectable, led him to the Great Hall.

The steward had already arranged a new seat at the High Table, and as they entered the Hall Kordas saw that the entire family was watching the entrance to see who the guest was.