Broadswords - 8. The Quest

Broadswords

Chapter Eight
The Quest

It had been twenty four hours since the unexpected knock at Daegon's door. "The prince?" he had parroted, his own jaw dropping to match Birten's. That was far from what he had expected.

"Yes," Birten had said simply, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

It made no sense to Daegon. No member of the royal family made house calls, regardless of the visitee. Even the noblemen and noblewomen were called upon by a third party, middlemen for the king and his family.

"The royal prince? The royal prince of Jhirdyr?" the slayer had asked, still incredulous. Even as a slayer rising in the ranks, his few direct interactions with royalty were brief, succinct, and in accordance with the basic dragonslaying ceremonial traditions. In short, formalities.

"Well maybe not theroyal prince, if you consider the order of succession. That would go to my brother Caebe." The voice was clearly not Birten's; not that it mattered, because the statement itself could have only been true of two people. Prince Harmon or Prince Loy. And considering Prince Loy had been flinging mashed vegetables at his sister the last time Daegon had seen him, he was certain it was the former.

Sure enough, there he stood. The white-blond, cerulean-eyed appreciator of hard work. The only one at the royal feast that seemed to appreciate what Daegon had accomplished versus the rest of his family. Prince Harmon, in all his unobtainable glory, was standing next to Birten in the doorway to Daegon's den. Which he had then suddenly felt was cluttered and awkward.

The slayer had darted up immediately from his seat and immediately followed it with a slight bow. "Your majesty."

Harmon had laughed, though unsarcastically. "Please, please. No need for formalities here. In any event, majesty is only used for the reigning royalty."

Daegon knew that fact, and mentally kicked himself in the shin for saying it. He was typically cool and collected in front of royalty, but there was something about Harmon that negated those qualities. Regardless, he was still in the presence of a member of the royal family. So he kept silent and upright.

Harmon continued. "I've been accompanied here by two kingsmen. They're currently standing guard outside your domicile. I know it's not common practice for a prince to leave the castle for either business or pleasure, so you must be curious about the reasoning for my visit. It's not necessarily official in any regards. It's more of a favor, really."

With swelling curiosity, the slayer and his squire kept their mouths shut as they listened to the prince.

"a short distance to the south lies a small village called Dorre. I've received correspondence from an old friend who lives there, advising me that a dragon resides in the swamplands adjacent to the town. The beast has been feasting on livestock on the outskirts of the village, and, according to my correspondent, has taken to circling over the village. I don't need to tell you that that means impending trouble. My father, however, hasn't deemed this a high enough threat to act on an official capacity."

"If there has been any kind of attack on an inhabited area, it's constituted as a veritable threat," Birten piped in. He realized he had interjected while the prince was talking, and sank back.

The prince seemed to take no offense and continued with his story. "Exactly. I'm certain it's got more to do with the fact that Dorre doesn't have much to offer the kingdom in regards to goods and services. The city of Brookstone has ores essential to smithing the weaponry for the kingsmen, and Baronne has a catalogue of silks unknown outside of its territory. Being as tiny as it is, the most Dorre has to offer is its livestock; even if half of it wasn't dragonfodder, swamp-fed cows aren't exactly a delicacy in Jhirdyr."

Daegon may have initially starstruck in the presence of the prince, but the message was quite clear. "And you'd like my assistance in slaying the swamp dragon?"

Harmon nodded firmly. "Indeed. That being said, that's why it's not exactly an official request. I can't promise that the slay would affect the ranking in any direct manner. As the quest wasn't issued by the king, queen, or crown prince, it's not an official one. It would strictly be a personal favor to me."

Irritated by Daegon's use of the word "my" instead of "our," and perhaps also fueled by the booze that still coursed his veins, Birten spoke up again. "Why choose us instead of Elan, or one of the other higher ranked slayers?"

With another chuckle, this one slightly more heartfelt, the prince continued. "Fair enough. Your most recent slay was a largely notable one. Not only did you save an entire village from an unknown fate, but you also did so with class and professionalism."

Birten choked back a laugh.

Harmon side-eyed the squire, but otherwise made no reference that he'd noticed the disturbance beside him. "I feel the two of you as a team have an extreme dedication to what you do. I've been impressed over the years with what you have been able to accomplish."

"We would be honored," Daegon said without hesitation. "We can journey out tomorrow, if you wish."

The prince smiled a smile of relief. "Your enthusiasm is a breath of fresh air. Dorre is about a week's venture from here on horseback. When you reach the village, seek out a man named Elsior. Tell him I sent you. He'll gladly give you any information you require."

As the prince departed, both of the other men bowed out of courtesy. While Daegon still had stars in his eyes, Birten wasn't quite sure how he felt about the very unofficial quest that had just been bestowed upon them.

The next day, after the ales had time to course from Birten's system, he was clearer in his uncertainty on their acceptance of the task at hand.

As Daegon was filling his bag with the various requirements needed for the extended journey, Birten continued to debate whether or not to bring his reservations to light. Finally, he decided he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? It's not an official quest. If it rubs the king the wrong way, it might hurt your ranking."

Daegon, presently in the middle of choosing which sword-wielding gloves to squeeze into his already full knapsack, stopped what he was doing to look at his partner. He shoved both pair into the bag and pushed the younger man down by his shoulders until he was seated on the bed. "Look. Sparing a village from a dragon isn't going to hurt us. While it might not be on the king's radar, it's a slay nonetheless. Even if it doesn't help us in the rankings, isn't that what we live for?"

Although he was still perplexed by the concept, Birten couldn't deny that Daegon made a valid point. They did have a sworn oath to protect the general public from a fiery demise, even if it wasn't ordained by the ruler of the kingdom.

"Besides," Daegon continued, now forcing an unnecessary spare pair of boots into his bag, "it was Harmon. We've spent countless times fantasizing about fulfilling anything that man requested. Don't deny that a part of you got psychologically tight in the trousers when he offered us this opportunity."

And in fact Birten couldn't deny the claim. Although he felt the sting of constantly feeling like second string in his slayer's eyes, the pair did share many a night discussing what they would do if granted an evening with the prince.

Still, Birten found himself more perplexed than ever. He felt love and dedication for Daegon, and an undeniable lust for Harmon, which could be said of any hot-blooded sexual being within the kingdom. At the same time, he found himself feeling a tinge of guilt when he thought about Kep. He couldn't quite place it, exactly, but he knew there was something there with his newfound relationship with the barkeep.

And as he filled his own store with the necessities Daegon wouldn't, like ointments and herbs and general standard items, it was clear that he had a lot to think about.

He decided he couldn't depart on a fortnight's journey without letting Kep know. "I'll be right back," he said suddenly, clasping his bag and dropping it in a chair.

Daegon scoffed. "Where are you going? We need to head out soon. We can't put it off too much longer or we'll lose daylight."

"I forgot my tooth at my house," he lied quickly. It was already packed in one of the pockets of his bag. His tooth, as he referred to it, was a pendant he'd made out of a dragon tooth from the first slay he'd squired on. He knew that Daegon wouldn't resist. He'd worn the pendant on every subsequent slay they'd been on. Being a relatively superstitious man, Daegon would let him go.

"Very well. Make it quick." As Birten darted from the room, he could hear the slayer trying to fit more things into his bag. He would be preoccupied for a while.

He hurried down the streets, bringing some attention to himself as he whisked by bystanders. He made it to the inn in record time. For once, there were actually a few customers inside. It was probably for the better, because Birten still wasn't sure what he was going to say. The more potential onlookers, the higher the likelihood that he wouldn't say anything awkward or stupid.

"Three days in a row? To what do I owe this pleasure?" Kep said, appearing from the doorway behind the bar. He was carrying two plates, which he delivered to a couple sitting at one of the tables before meeting Birten near the door.

Birten smiled uncomfortably, absorbing Kep's words. Three days in a row. It was three days in row. And three days of knowing each other, total. Why was he there? He cleared his throat. "I uh… well, we're going on a slay. It's going to take at least two weeks for travel alone, there and back. If it's a complicated one it could take longer. I just… I wanted to let you know, since I won't be able to visit for a while." It sounded sillier out loud than it had conceptually in his head.

Kep didn't seem to think so, though. He smiled. "Wow. Well, I appreciate the gesture. I'm getting used to seeing you around here. When do you leave?"

"Today."

"That's a quick turnaround. Can I offer you a hot meal for the road? On the house; a citizen can never thank his protectors enough."

Birten shook his head. "Thanks, Kep. I really appreciate it. But I don't have enough time. We should already be heading out. I just wanted to stop by really quickly."

Though appearing somewhat disappointed, there was a twinkle in the barkeep's eye that made it clear the visit was meaningful to him. "I understand. Can I offer you this at least?" He circled back behind the bar, stooped down, and popped back up holding a bottle of wine. "I hear slayers like to drink after a kill."

That was an understatement when it came to Daegon. And while Daegon would gladly down the bottle, Birten knew he couldn't return with a bottle of alcohol if he wanted his lie to hold up. "We've got plenty of that. Why don't you save that bottle, and we can share it upon my return?"

Kep smiled that dazzling smile and agreed to the offer. Without another word, the two men waved their goodbyes and Birten dashed back to Daegon's house. The absurdity he felt whilst on the way to Kep's was gone. He was glad he said goodbye before he left. It would make it easier on him while in Dorre.

Yet little did he know, there would be nothing easy about his time in Dorre, and it would be a far greater expanse than two weeks before he'd see Kep's smile again.