Chenaol had followed them from the gate. She grinned at Nuritin and collected the other spear. "If you want me to take that, my lady, I'll clean it properly," she said, nodding toward the weapon Nuritin still held.
Nuritin looked at the spear, then at Chenaol. The old woman trembled from top to toe, but her voice was firm and clear as she replied, "I thank you, but I will clean it myself. I suspect I may need it again. My father said a good blade should always be seen to by the one who uses it."
Chenaol scratched her head for a moment, then offered, "Would my lady like to see our armaments, and choose something more to her taste?"
"I would," Nuritin replied stoutly. "This is a bit heavier than I can manage easily." As the two women walked to the back of the house, carrying spears, Nuritin added, "And since we are to be comrades in battle, we had best do away with this 'my lady' nonsense."
Trickster's Queen by Tamora Pierce
I. Love. Nuritin.
She's an old lady, set in tradition, but she takes up the cause, politically and physically. And then she tells a servant not to use the formal address.
It's all about the badass old ladies.
