The knights assigned to capital patrols are oft dissatisfied with their delegation, for it does not compare to those brothers who brave the heat of dragon fire. Hence the fools are more like to vent their vexations ale-sopped, pummeling lowborn ungrateful for their service. Unfortunately, one such brawl has left a peasant less one wife after being struck in the face with a gauntlet. In customary circumstance, the knights would be pulled out into recess, yet with the threat of a Dravanian siege looming over my head, I can afford not to dismiss men of considerable skill. In lieu, I must keep them chastised and the baseborn quiet and sated with his demand—armor fresh from the forge.