Tymor laughed. "You are being kind," he told her. "But yes, I was outside the castle walls last evening. A fight broke out at the inn I arrived at intending on having a drink. Jaer Sand and I snuck out of the brawl after hitting about half the people in the place, regardless of what side they were on. I imagine the knuckles of one of his hands are as bruised as mine are."
They were sore, though he refused to complain minor pain like that unless it was going to get him somewhere. He hadn't complained about something like that since he was a boy of six. Tymor's primary complaint was that his knuckles were too sore to do any writing. At the moment, he considered himself fortunate that he didn't have a council position.