William was admittedly ravished. He had barely stopped all day. After being certain he had outrun the young thief Alan in the Sherwood, he doubled back overland to search for Robin. The site of their encounter was deserted, and offered no signs of what had happened. Pure chance had brought him two mounted members of the Nottingham Guard, who were themselves returning home. Skeptical at first, they eventually took his cause as their own, even going so far as to ride to Clipstone first in hopes that Robin had found his way there. The loan of a third horse made their afternoon faster, though the sun was setting by the time they reached the sprawling city of Nottingham. Exhausted as he was, William was still ready to lead a search party for Robin immediately.

But if the Sheriff insisted on sharing wine first, he would have to abide. De Lacy took a long slow draw from his cup and patted his lips together, a miniature applause for a drink well done. William drank second, out of courtesy, but mid-pull, the Sheriff spoke. “So. You’re here to talk about stolen supplies.”

William choked to answer. “I am.”

“They’ve been missing for months. How confident are you with your understanding of the word urgent?”

He took the insult, it wasn’t worth fighting back. “I need your assistance. I was traveling with a friend, another member of the royal guard. We were separated, and he may be held captive by outlaws who waylaid us in the forest.”

“That’s unfortunate.” De Lacy’s concern seemed earnest, if detached. “I doubt they’ll hurt him. They’ll take his things and let him loose. But I’ll have Gisbourne arrange scouts to go out at first light to find him.”

William glanced out the window at the fading light, and realized with some disappointment there was little else he could hope for. Robin would be on his own for the night. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now then, your war supplies. Say whatever it is you’ve come to say. Then you can tell Richard himself you tried your best before being sent away empty-handed.” De Lacy smiled and moved toward the door. “Do you mind if I step out while you talk? I hardly see the need for me to be here. Just talk at the painting if you wish, and tell Richard I listened.”

This, fortunately, was familiar territory. William could win at a game of sarcasm, and he had already practiced this conversation during the ride. “Baron,” he composed himself, shifting his mindset to the matter at hand, “King Richard doubts either your loyalty, or your ability. Could you tell me which one it is?”

De Lacy’s jaw tightened. “Both are beyond reprisal.”