Waver lightly closed the door to his mother’s study, a dusty room with green-painted walls and a varnished wood floor.

At first glance, the study could be mistaken for an almost scholarly space. The walls were lined with bookshelves, the wooden desk was stacked with papers, letters, and reserve pens and inkwells, and the wall that wasn’t covered in bookshelves was plastered with maps, diagrams, and certificates.

However, upon further inspection, the illusion would quickly be dispelled. The bookshelves were almost empty, except for books of military strategy, logistics, and martial technique. The papers on the desk all involved rations, supplies, and training -- even the affairs of the demesne were mostly handled by Waver’s father -- and the letters were from not scholars but duces, fellow knights, and even marchises and lords. The maps were ornamented with reports of military movements, the diagrams of human anatomy were covered in knife-holes, the certificates were notices of military valor, and one could not ignore the knight’s practice pike in the corner of the room, or her collection of combat knives looted from enemy soldiers, enshrined in a luxurious glass-paned cabinet.

In short, Granise Cove’s study was a complete meathead’s mockery of a scholarly space.

At least it was well-used. The condition of the room suggested it was dusted daily, the locks on the windows were scratched but not corroded, and the varnished floor was pockmarked with dents from the weapon practice Waver’s mother would use to clear her mind. The air was still, but not stale. She might be a meathead, but Granise Cove kept up with her administrative responsibilities properly, and was well-deserving of her title, regardless of those who hated her for her common birth. Waver respected her greatly.

He respected her, but...

The air in the room shifted almost imperceptibly, and the cold flat of a long knife was pressed against Waver’s throat. He stood steady, not even daring to swallow.

“Half marks,” a scratchy voice from behind him said imperiously. “You didn’t react in time, but you didn’t flinch either. That’ll save you against an experienced kidnapper who wants you alive, but in a mugging you can’t count on the knifeman’s hands staying steady, and it definitely won’t protect you from an assassin. Are you expecting to be held for ransom, boy?”

“Knight Granise Cove,” Waver stated, stiffly.

“Don’t you ‘Knight Granise Cove’ me. I’m your mother. Did you forget that?” The knight withdrew and sheathed the knife, and Waver was able to turn and get a good look at her. She looked fairly healthy, he was unsurprised to see.

Granise Cove was a short, wide woman, who gave the impression that her stance was so sturdy that any attacker would sooner break the stone beneath her than knock her off her feet. Her long, steely gray hair was tied into a bun, and its volume made it abundantly clear that its color was not from old age. Her face was pretty, if wrinkled with severe lines of worry and effort. Her black eyes had seen the reality of battle, and even saw through the human soul at times, but...

This woman, Waver complained silently. Does she even know what disownment is?

“Surely one of my lowly station would not be forgiven for mistaking one of yours as family,” Waver said, carefully keeping even a hint of antipathy out of his tone.

“Dragonshit!” Granise roared. “Do you have any idea how much I-”

She stopped.

“Is that what this is about? Did your resolve finally run out?” Waver let a bitter smile sneak onto his face. “I was sure you brought me here to have me punished,” he lied.

“Your foolishness wasn’t supposed to hold out this long,” she muttered. “You stubborn son of a bitch. How long must you foil my expectations until you’re satisfied? Do you get some kind of kick out of disrupting-”

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“I don’t care about your damn borrowed plan,” Waver snapped.

Granise looked stricken, and Waver sighed. Damn it. I went off script. That was supposed to be a secret.

“How long have you known?” his mother asked, suddenly stiff.

“Two years,” Waver responded in kind.

Yes, Waver had officially been disowned. He had been stricken from the family registry, and turned out of his house, almost all of his possessions taken from him. He had been given a temporary lease with a nearby serf tenement, but that contract had long since run out, and he’d taken to contract work in order to fund lodgings of his own finding. He fully expected that he had been truly abandoned, and acted on that understanding.

But two years before, he had come to learn, through dragon gossip, of an argument in his household. He put together the pieces, and deduced the true situation.

In reality, it was his father who had most taken exception to his incompetence and behavior. His father had proposed that he be ostracized for a short time, so that he would stop “taking [his mother’s] kindness for granted.” Granise had not been fully convinced, but had been disturbed by Waver’s radical beliefs and didn’t know what to do, so she had decided to take full responsibility of what she perceived as her own failure. As a result, Waver’s father’s involvement had been completely obscured, and Granise played the role of the harsh and heartless military mother.

“Are you going to ask me how I knew?” Waver said, with a fake smile that came across crueler than he really intended.

Learning the reality had deeply cut into his respect for his mother.

He would give her some credit for taking responsibility, but the lie felt cowardly to him. She had found it easier to submit to her husband’s social pressure rather than attempt to figure out what was wrong, and as a result had resolved to destroy her own relationship to Waver forever, even if she hadn’t really thought it would get that far. She wouldn’t even allow her husband to take responsibility for his own actions. This, Waver thought, was a type of social cowardice that only a brave knight could display.

“No,” Granise said, her voice severe, but Waver could detect the tremble in it regardless. “No, I know what you would say, and even if I don’t have a better explanation, I won’t accept yours. You must have quite the talent for information warfare.”

Waver didn’t respond. While she probably had the wrong idea of how, she wasn’t exactly wrong altogether.

“Waver,” his mother said, her voice turning urgent, and soft. She must have realized that the front of strength would no longer work, and like the military tactician she was, she decided to try a different approach. “Please, won’t you reconsider? I know the rumors of your connection to us were from some other source, already -- if you were that intent on taking advantage of our family name, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, because you’d already be back. But because we heard that rumor, we learned all sorts of other awful things about how you’ve been living. Your father... is outwardly ashamed of you, but I know he cares, deep-down. Neither of us wanted it to get this far.”

“Mother,” Waver started, his eyes narrowed, but thought better of it and started over. “May I have your permission to speak plainly? Regardless of your intentions, our stations are what they are.”

Granise sighed. Waver was now certain that she hadn’t fully understood what disownment meant.

“Permission granted, Waver.”

He stepped back. The sunbeams from the window played across his back, leaving his face in shadow. He looked her directly in the eye, which was always difficult.

“You’re being unbelievably selfish.”

Granise Cove blinked. Waver continued, unabated.

“If you looked into me, you have to already know that I have an officially recognized business, and lodgings that I own. My benefactor is shady as hell, but he’s wealthy. I’ve already taken on a few jobs for the wealthy and influential in town. I live with two dragons, and you might not believe me when I say this, but they’re great company. It’s been eight years, and the first time you’ve contacted me like this, I’ve only just started to build something real. Do you honestly think I would rather get on my knees and beg to be back in this house where everyone sees me as a failure? Which one of us was supposed to be delusional, again?”

Waver breathed heavily. He heard his mother, too, sucking in a long breath, and letting it out. For ten seconds, Waver waited for his mother to explode at him, but instead, she regained her calm, and said something very odd.

“Would you like to come to the stables with me?”