Lys: Restraint

Cathair was ready to be satisfied with the answer. It was fair enough. But the taunt was too much.

"With all due respect, sir. I'll thank you not to mock me for seeking to fulfill my duty to my people. Were you slain in your bed, I would hope your men would do the same for you."

With another short nod, he turned on his heel and walked away. Had he been a common man, Cathair might not have restrained himself. He idly wondered if the man's sister would mourn his loss after all.

The matter settled as far as it could be for the moment, he sought out the stream, intending to wash himself. He would borrow a razor, if he knew where to find one that wasn't borne by someone who'd rather cut him with it than loan it to him. The fact that he was out alone was surprising, when he thought of it. But he'd take advantage of it as long as he could.

A little while later, he emerged, damp but looking considerably less wild.

He wondered what to do now. He did not relish seeking out the boy's mother. Truth be told, he'd almost rather have Aithne along when he did, so that he could allow her to translate his words to Latin for him. So with Aithne asleep, there was nothing to be done at the moment.

At a loss for a better idea, he began walking back to the atrium.