The woman in red waited until she was sure every eye had settled on her before she spoke.
"You misunderstand us, Your Majesty," she said, dipping her head a precise inch, the picture of courtesy. "No one here questions your right to do as you will. The land is yours, and the titles are yours. We would never dream of suggesting otherwise."
She let the words settle for a moment, and the courtesy on her face never once slipped.
"But a grant of land is only ink and a seal. It does not put a sword in a new lord's hand, nor does it teach him how to hold what he has been handed."
"There is a reason that region has stayed empty all this time," she went on. "Stronger men than your unknown commoner have died trying to tame it. If he is half of what your favor suggests, then he will manage well enough. If he is not, the land simply returns to those of us willing to take it."
The King watched her for a long moment, and the smile crept back onto his face by a slow degree.
