He found her in the caves below the castle. Already encased in layers of padding, chain mail and studded leather, she was surveying her weapons. Though he had never been known to go into trouble light, he was still taken aback by the arsenal laid out on the rough plank table.
She left nothing to chance inspecting her various blades, giving each a final pass with the whetstone as necessary. Only when she’d slid each into place on belt, baldric or in her boot tops did a small rumble from deep in his throat disturb her.
Rounding on him with quicksilver speed, the dagger in her hand seeming to have sprung from thin air, he found himself pushed to the cold stone wall with the point of the knife pricking his throat. Before she could register that he was no foe but her lifelong friend, Cambric slapped her hard to the face with one hand while the other locked an iron grip on her wrist forcing the steel down and away until it clanked on the floor. Old he might be getting but not so old as all that.
“Here now! I told you if your head’s not in the right place ye’d not be along tonight. Ye must focus, lass, focus! Yer brother might be lost to us forever among them savage curs but ye have to keep it together. There’s no revenge. There’s no vendetta. There’s no personal grudges here, aye?”
Nodding her assent, Laera followed him out.
This story was written for the weekly Thursday Threads flash fiction challenge prompt phrase: "There's no revenge."