Broadswords - 3. The Rival

Broadswords

Chapter Three
The Rival

The feast was well underway, and Daegon had already had his fill of soups, salads, and various preparations of game foul native to the area surrounding the kingdom. It was a treat to consume dishes prepared by the royal chef and his team. He himself was terrible in the kitchen, and Birten wasn't much better. He would need to live a street closer to the castle to be afforded any kind of wait staff; it was only the top dragonslayer that was granted the ability to live on the same streets as the lords and ladies of the kingdom.

When the feast was held due to the slaying of a dragon, the attendees were slightly different than a normal royal feast. The standard invitees were the wealthiest citizens, the lords and ladies, the top slayer, and depending on the occasion, royalty or the like from other kingdoms. For slays deemed epic enough, the guest list was majorly the same. For a less notable slay such as this one, only a handful of the wealthy showed up, along with the best slayer. The lords and ladies typically didn't attend, and definitely nobody from outside of the kingdom.

There were nine dragonslayers within Jhirdyr, and Daegon was currently fourth. There were several factors in the ranking, such as kill count, swiftness, and the overall impact that the slay caused. Since bringing Birten on as his squire, he had managed to move up a position, from fifth to fourth. He often wondered if he would be making better strides with another at his side. When he had those feelings, he was always reminded that he struggled to even get to fifth position with his previous squire Saldric. He didn't like to think about Saldric.

As luck would have it, he didn't have much of a chance to dwell on the Saldric tragedy in the current moment. The king had stood, and the noise in the room collectively dulled to a hush. "Guests, your presence is appreciated. One of our own has again vanquished a dragon that had been causing distress to a nearby village. Tonight we pay honor to Slayer Daegon for his valiant efforts in making our kingdom a noble one."

Many a "hear, hear!" was uttered throughout the room. Daegon knew that many of the responses were out of custom. The true guest of honor was the dragon tongue and the effects it would have.

As the king reseated himself, the dragonslayer surveyed the royal table. The king and queen sat at its center, in the most elaborate chairs. They had five children; the eldest two to their left and the youngest three to their right.

Caebe, the oldest, looked as bored as many of the guests. He sipped idly on his goblet and it was clear he had no desire to be there.

The three to the right were all in various states. Sira, the older of the two girls, was pushing food around on her plate. She didn't seem bored as her brother did, but just uninvolved. The other two, Lessa and Loy, were reminiscent of any other children in their early teens and appeared to be intentionally harassing one another.

It was the second son, though, that caught Daegon's attention. His name was Harmon, and Daegon knew him to be about four years his junior. He was undoubtedly handsome. The rest of the family was attractive without a doubt, but Harmon's looks stood out. He had blond hair that was several shades lighter than the rest of his kin. Further, while the entirety of the royal family had blue eyes, his were the most pronounced.

Still, it wasn't necessarily his attractiveness that caught Daegon's eye. It was his demeanor. While the others at the table were either uninterested or distracted, Harmon seemed to appreciate the cause for celebration. He was smiling, which didn't match the expression on the faces of his family.

For a split second, Daegon almost thought that he and Harmon made eye contact and that the latter's smile widened.

"Daegon, well done." Elan, the top ranked slayer, was suddenly standing next to him. He was gorgeous by anyone's standards. Although his arms and chest were riddled with scars from years of dragonslaying, his face was untouched.

"Thanks," Daegon responded. He took a long drink from his flagon.

Elan mimicked his action and after emptying his drink, emitted a long sigh. "I hear you're nearing a top three spot."

Daegon bit his tongue before responding. He knew there was a bit of a ribbing in Elan's statement. Elan had been top slayer for several years, and there hadn't been much change in the rankings for quite a while. Daegon did his best to keep his voice steady. "It's a journey, as you know. We're working hard."

There was a noticeable twinkle in Elan's oaken eyes. "Ah, that's right. Your new squire. Braden, is it? I hear he's been a tad bit more influential on you than Saldric."

Daegon felt blood pooling around his teeth as he bit deeper into his tongue. Elan knew it was a sensitive subject and was intentionally trying to get a rise out of him. He lessened the pressure on his bite. "Birten."

"No matter," Elan said, waving his hand in indifference. "In any event, I was pleased to hear that you encountered an infant dragon. They're certainly temperamental. Every slayer worth his salt definitely has to have one of those under his belt."

There was a lull in the conversation as Elan surveyed the room, letting his words soak in. Daegon hated him. This slayer, this caramel-skinned god with his perfect face and superb slayer record, he knew how to make another man jealous. When Daegon was around other men – Birten, strangers, fellow slayers – he was cool, confident. Elan was perhaps the one exception to the rule.

Finally, Elan returned his attention to Daegon. "In any event, the tongue wasn't half bad. The infants, they're a tougher slay, but their tongues don't have quite the same kick as the grown ones. This one was decent, considering."

Daegon knew he was being baited again, but the tenured slayer wasn't wrong. This was the first time he had indulged in young dragon tongue, and indeed the high wore off far earlier than it would have with an adult's.

"Under the belt, right?" Daegon responded. He was using Elan's own words regarding the experience he now had, but also intended the statement to indicate where the insults were hitting. Whether his insinuation was picked up on was uncertain. He was simply met with a smile, nod, and he thought another twinkle of the eyes.

Once the guests started to trickle out, the royal guard began the process of edging out the rest of the crowd. Daegon had gone in not expecting much, and was leaving not feeling any different. Elan had once again made him feel less than adequate.

He was in no hurry to get home, knowing that Birten was likely already asleep. He would do as he always did, crawl into bed and face the opposite direction until he awoke the next morning.

His pace matched his thought process as he shuffled along slowly down the empty street. He could make it home in a relatively short time, but he had cut his pace by at least half. There didn't seem to be a reason to get home quickly, after all.

Just as he was about to pass the first row of houses surrounding the castle, he heard someone calling his name from behind him.

Slowly, he turned. It was dark, so he didn't see anyone right away. He heard, however, footfalls of someone trudging toward him. He stood still, curious as to who it might be. Gradually, the silhouette of his encroacher came more and more into focus. It was Elan.

Once he was within a few feet, Elan stopped. "You sure shoved out of there in a hurry."

Daegon wasn't quite sure how to respond. "It was over…."

Elan laughed. "Sure, sure. I thought we were having a nice conversation, though. I was looking for you to see if you wanted to join me at my place for a nightcap. I thought I'd missed you until I saw you ducking out the door."

It was then that Elan reached out and touched Daegon's arm. He looked down at the touch, taking in the gentle way Elan's fingers were in contact with his sleeve. Hesitantly, he moved his gaze up, following the length of Elan's arm until they were making eye contact. Elan was still smiling. It was a genuine smile, now.

"It's… it's pretty late." He was completely perplexed by what was happening. Was Elan really propositioning him? It was his completion, after all. Perhaps it was a power move. A trick.

Elan stopped playing coy. "Time is time, Daegon. It's arbitrary. I saw the way you were looking at me. I'm not going to act like I'm not interested in the same. We're both virile, able-bodied men. We're both attractive. My house is right there."

Feeling more subdued than he had in a long time, Daegon swallowed slowly, trying to rid the lump from his throat. "I'm with someone."

"Who, the kid? Your squire?" Elan laughed. "He's charming, I'm sure. But he's just a kid. I've got a lot of experience I could share with you. And not just when it comes to dragonslaying."

Even through the darkness, Daegon saw Elan's eyebrow raise. He wasn't backing down. He wasn't quite sure how to react to this whole situation. He was typically in control in these scenarios. It was new to him to feel this submissive.

The silence at this point was almost unbearable. It was just Daegon and Elan and the nighttime. If anybody else was in the vicinity, it would have gone unnoticed.

That's when everything took a turn.

Elan's fingers slid down from Daegon's bicep, where they had been stationed this whole time, and grasped his hand. He pulled it toward him, pressing it firmly against the front of his trousers. And upon contact, Daegon was made very, very aware that there was no trickery at play. Elan was clearly the virile, able-bodied man he claimed to be.