The training yard smelled of iron and damp earth.
Frederick preferred it that way.
Steel rang in measured rhythm as two younger warriors sparred near the far post, their boots grinding dust into the packed ground. The morning sun had not yet climbed high enough to soften the chill, and breath hung pale in the air as men moved through drills.
He stood near the weapon rack, running his thumb along the edge of a blade that should have been sharper.
“Too dull,” he said without looking up.
The guard nearest him stiffened. “Aye, me Laird.”
“Sharpen it again. If ye hesitate in the yard, ye hesitate in the field.”
The man nodded and hurried off.
Frederick set the sword back in its place, gaze sweeping the perimeter. Repairs along the west wall had been completed. The newer recruits held their shields correctly today. The stable boy had finally remembered to secure the gate latch properly.
Order.
Predictable.
Footsteps approached behind him, unhurried.
Lennox Cochrane stopped at his side, hands clasped loosely behind his back as though they were inspecting livestock rather than men prepared for war.
“They are improving,” Lennox observed.
“Theyshouldbe,” Frederick replied. “They train every day.”
Lennox watched a pair of warriors circle one another, then added mildly, “The younger one favors his left. If he keeps that habit, someone will notice.”
“I have noticed.”
“Then I shall assume ye intend to correct it.”
Frederick did not answer. He stepped forward instead, cutting through the yard with quiet authority. The sparring halted.
“Switch hands,” he instructed the younger warrior. “Now.”
The man obeyed.
Frederick did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The yard shifted around him automatically, men adjusting stances, tightening grips, sharpening attention.
He walked the perimeter once more before returning to Lennox.
“Well?” Frederick asked at last.
Lennox did not pretend to misunderstand.
“The runner made it farther than I would have liked,” he said evenly. “He cut north first. Smart enough to double back once.”
Frederick’s jaw tightened slightly. “And?”
“We followed the blood trail until it thinned. He mounted a horse near the bend past the alder grove.”
“Stolen?”
“Aye.”