The fighting sounds continued coming in from outside, but the groaning grew less as his new opponents went down quietly. Caerbychan remained silent for a moment, the occasional grimace betraying a rather painful blow. At the same time that the sound of fighting fell quiet, he spoke up, his eyes never leaving the courtyard still while he kept his voice low enough so only she would hear him. "Six more down. Four had practice swords, two brawlers. A group of eleven is now discussing tactics. Your Grace, may I ask for your motives?"

Eirwen replied without stopping her quill, eagerly splitting her focus between the conversation and her writing so that she could block out the sounds. "Yesterday, you believed the nameless did not pose a threat to me. Even then, you kept up your stance, no matter what he did or said. You were one of the few who did so. And that is why they are learning their lesson out there, and you're learning it in here."

As she stopped talking, the sounds from outside began to register again. Judging from the groans, the fight had started up again. Caerbychan kept watching as he replied. "They tried to encircle him. He feinted and they fell for it. Two down. I see, your Grace. So wait, that means I made the same mistake as them?" He sounded confused and a bit ashamed. Good, that means the lesson was working.

"Correct. But you did a lot of other things right. Tell me, Sir Caerbychan. Do you still believe he posed no threat?" She saw his eyes open wide as he pondered that. His lack of verbal response showed he was reminiscing, combining the memories of last night with the spectacle before him, soon reaching the obvious conclusion. As he shook his head, eyes still observing, she smiled in satisfaction. "Good."

This fight took longer, no doubt a combination of more enemies, the power of surprise wearing off, and even the nameless lacking infinite stamina. Especially when he wasn't allowed to use his powers, which would have let him recover far faster. Despite her writing slowing down, she was almost done by the time Caerbychan reported the group's defeat. Three likely concussions, no broken bones.

"After the next group, go put a stop to the fighting. Then fetch Bethan. Tell her to first treat broken bones, second facial bruises. I need everyone to look pristine tomorrow." He nodded absently, as if he were spellbound by the brutal violence. Despite not wanting to, Eirwen fell back to trying to listen herself, unsure how to interpret the sounds of fighting but not daring to fully depend on her observer. 

Soon after, she noticed his hand clenching and him almost shouting, before stopping himself with a brief shudder. She had sensed no use of powers, leading to a simple conclusion. She blinked as she noticed she had broken her quill again, reaching for another as she asked for confirmation. "Hidden knife?" 

"Yes, your Grace. He shattered the man's jaw in turn. Ah, two more." The screaming made the outcome quite clear, but Caerbychan still summarised. "One broken knee, one shattered ankle. The rest fought fair but recoiled, so he downed them quickly. Fight over." Eirwen felt something come over her and absently noticed the concerned look from her doorguards.

"Good. Memorise those that drew knives. They will not be healed." She put her quill down and the document aside for it to dry, before clarifying, a soft rage building in her voice. "Splints are fine, but they lost the right to any magical treatment. Yes, they may never fully recover. That is the price they pay for refusing to learn their lesson."

Caerbychan began to turn to her when suddenly his eyes shot back and his stance turned rigid. At the same time Eirwen felt people building up power, one of them clearly recognisable. Her order sprang from her mouth without thinking. "Order them to sheath their swords!"

To his credit, Caerbychan roared out without hesitation. "Sheath your swords, by order of the Duchess!" His voice was loud enough for half the estate to hear. Outside, she felt the build-up break. Caerbychan immediately continued his report. "Your Grace, Vicomtesse Pertrellan is accompanied by Bethan. Shall I pass on your orders?"

She nodded and was almost unsurprised when he jumped out the window, easily breaking his fall. She instinctively began to eavesdrop, when a sting in her right hand drew her attention downwards. It was only then that she realised she was no longer seated, and that her hand was gripping the handle of her sword, her knuckles white. With greater effort than she liked, she managed to loosen her grip enough to stop the pain.

She looked at the doorguards, theirs eyes filled with concern that she instantly discarded as she gave an order with a barely trembling voice. "Close the window and curtains. And get me a messenger." One closed the windows and pulled the curtains in front, instantly darkening the room. Only once he returned to the door, did the other knock on the door and pass on her orders.

The curtains drawn left the conversation from outside too muted for her to overhear, but she noticed she was still trying. She closed her eyes and turned her attention to her breathing instead, trying to get it back under control. The doorguards were trustworthy and properly following protocols. The window was heavy and hard to destroy, plus there were still plenty of knights outside, even if many had gotten themselves beaten up just now. And he was out there, he would not let anything happen to her. It was okay. It was okay. It was okay. She repeated the thought as a mantra, slowly steadying her breathing and bringing her heart rate down.

By the time there was a knock on the door, Eirwen had no idea how much time had passed, but she had regained enough control to not get too spooked. She nodded at the doorguards and they opened the door, letting in Vicomtesse Pertrellan. Normally a sight for sore eyes, but not right now. She forced her emotions down, donning the emotionless mask she normally wore in her function. "What brings you here, Lady Pertrellan?" She kept her eyes looking slightly down, as she did not trust herself with eye contact at the moment.

The Vicomtesse sounded uncertain. "Greetings, your Grace. Ao-" Eirwen's eyes shot up at Pertrellan's face, who did a step back in shock. She had no idea what the look on her face was right now, but even the doorguards had turned white. To her credit, Pertrellan took but a count to regain her composure. "Apologies. The nameless asked me to express his apologies to you. He says he realised too late and regrets not thinking everything through properly."

Eirwen's jaw tightened and she felt the rage build up inside. "How useful. Takes on thirty men unarmed, knows exactly who our healers are and their capabilities, but triggering the trauma of my parents' deaths, that he never saw coming." She knew the words were unfair, knew they'd break his heart if he overheard them, but right now she felt overcome by the need to lash out.

"Ah, your Grace." The Vicomtesse hesitated but continued. "One more thing. The nameless wished to thank you for putting your faith in him." The words struck Eirwen as lightning. For a moment she stood still, not sure how to respond, how to feel. Then her face turned into a snarl. With a shout she grabbed the ink pot and threw it at the fireplace. How dare he be grateful! When he was the one that had tricked her! She looked at the wood and channeled her rage into a literal flame that lit the fireplace, roaring far louder than it had any right to be. As she poured in all her energy, she could feel her rage dry up, leaving naught but emptiness. As the last drop left her, she collapsed in her chair.

The silence was broken by Pertrellan. "I apologise myself for letting this situation get out of hand today. I will keep a strict eye out from now on, so none engage the nameless without your explicit permission." She sounded pained, torn with regret over having hurt her ruler. Eirwen wanted to comfort her, note that she too had seen things coming and had decided to use it as a brutal lesson, hurting herself in the process. But right now, she simply didn't have it in her. Absently she felt a mental string flow past her. As her eyes followed it, she saw the Vicomtesse's eyes open wide, then bow and turn away. The string curled back to Eirwen and gently touched her mind while the door opened and closed again.

She realised who it was, a sad smile on her face as she accepted his mental embrace. Honestly, she wanted to remain mad at him, keep hating him, but right now she needed him too much. The doorguards kept their faces tight and pretended not to notice as she leaned back and sobbed quietly.