"I suppose you think I will convert to worshipping women, in the gods' steed?" Dru asked dryly.
Thame chuckled softly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Of course not. I think you will begin to worship my excellent advice," Thame said with a grin. "Ah, what a marvelous day it will be when you come to realize that I am wise in all things."
Thame sighed wistfully, causing Dru to snort at his antics. Thame looked to his little brother as Dru sighed heavily, averting his gaze again.
"I'm afraid," Dru mumbled.
Thame waited, but after a long minute, it seemed Dru was not going to be forthcoming with the rest.
"You will have to tell me what it is you fear, so that I may have the pleasure of killing it," Thame said, baring his teeth.
"It's everything about this quest," Dru huffed, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, we don't know anything about literally anything! It doesn't seem strange to you that the details were scarce? We know that the forest is haunted, or dangerous, or whatever. We know that there is a beast-woman named Aribelle, whom I need to trick into drinking a lover's draught and continue to drug her until we receive further instructions. I am petrified of the forest, I mean I have no training, not a single clue how to defend myself, only what I've read on the theory and maneuvers. If we are attacked, which is a definite possibility, what am I to do, other than reciting a paper on self-defense in the hopes that it may put my assailant to sleep?"
Thame opened his mouth, his eyes wide at his brother's rant, but Dru carried on as though he could not stop himself from spewing every misgiving he had about their quest.
"And what of this, Aribelle? Is she a hundred-year-old hag who will want to press her toothless, wrinkled mouth to mine every time I am in reach of her? What if she expects me to bed her? My first time laying with a woman and of all people, it could very well be a brittle boned beast whose horns snap off at the first thrust of my--"
"Alright, calm down, brother, you paint a disturbing image," Thame yelled, biting his tongue as his eyes danced with mirth. "I will lay down my life for you if the occasion arises, this I do swear. As for the rest, we will deal with any problems as they come. We cannot know anything about this Aribelle until we find her, and I will send word to father the moment we do. Hopefully, all of this will be settled, and we can get away from her before there is any snapping of horns to be had."
Thame looked out over the land of Olthaire, searching for any sign that the dry grass hills would be coming to an end soon. He was tired of swaying on his stallion and clenching his muscles to stay upright as they trotted up and down a hundred hills on their journey through the countryside. At last, he saw seabirds flying to the west, tiny dots of white swooping and soaring high above.
"I don't understand why our father would not just take Jurot by force. It's not even a real kingdom; there is no ruler, no governing body. It's just a forest," Dru rambled on.
"Stow your complaints, for now, brother. We've reached Groden at last," Thame said with a relieved smile.
The sun was setting now, a purple tint coloring the sky. Both brothers were relieved to see the small fishing village of Groden, where they could get a decent meal and sleep in a bed, a luxury they had missed greatly during their week of travel. The cool breeze softly soothed their tanned skin as they neared the village. The smell of fish and brine heavy on the air, causing Dru to gag several times before covering his mouth and nose with a spare tunic from his saddlebag. Thame shook his head at his brother's gentle stomach, wishing that the next part of their journey wasn't necessary. Thame and Dru had been on a boat only one other time in their lives, and Dru spent the entirety of their short trip puking over the side into the choppy sea. Alas, father said it was crucial to take the sea to the southeastern shore of Jurot, where they would find a small cove with a path that led straight into the heart of the small kingdom.
"They will be expecting an invasion or attack from our borders," King Thaddeus had explained, pacing in his study as Dru and Thame listened intently. "You must venture into Olthaire, travel to a fishing village, pick anyone from the dozens they have, who ferries you across the Mardoch Sea matters not, as long as you enter where you must. The southeastern cliffside has a hidden cove, a small beach that cannot be seen until you are nearly running ashore. There is where you must enter. Find Aribelle. Force the damn draught down her throat if you must, then send me a missive when it is done. I will give you further instructions from there."
Now, as they crested the last hill and saw the twinkling lights below, the village bustling with activity, the brothers could not wait to relieve themselves of their horses and fill their bellies. Both looked at each other, grinning broadly, then leaned forward as their stallions took off, galloping towards the village.
Five minutes later, both guided their stallions to a wooded area and dismounted. They quickly took off their cloaks that bore the royal crest of Vildaheim --a golden hawk with a sword clutched in its talons-- and threw on tattered cloaks that they stole from the servant’s quarters before departing.
"Should we use fake names?" Dru asked, a look of calculation on his face.
Thamyris thought about it for a moment before deciding.
"I don't see a reason to," Thame replied honestly. "We are only here for the night, but perhaps you should just be 'Dru,' and I'll be 'Thame' to err on the side of caution. We certainly cannot go into a pub and declare we are the heirs to the kingdom of Vildaheim."
"This is true. I agree. Do you have our coin?" Dru asked.
Thame pulled six small, but heavy brown pouches from his pack, each tied tightly. He handed three of the pouches to Dru, who swiftly tucked them away beneath his cloak. Tucking away his own pouches, Thame checked to be sure that he had grabbed everything from his saddlebags and tucked his belongings away in his pack. With a smack to its flank, both stallions took off into the night, heading back to Vildaheim.
Emerging from the wooded area, Thame pointed to a pub with a black sign that hung over the door that read, The Aleing Fisherman, in peeling silver letters. Dru nodded his agreement, and the two set off towards the tavern. They wove through the crowd that stood outside, laughing and talking boisterously. They pushed open the small door and entered a dimly lit area that was stifling hot and packed with sweaty people. Dozens of men stood or sat together around scratched and chipped wooden tables; scantily clad women, whose faces were heavily painted with makeup, ran their colored fingernails up the arm, chest, or back of any many who was in their reach. The smell of grease, fish, and musk was overpowering, causing Thame to wrinkle his nose in distaste, whilst Dru gagged and made odd gurgling noises in the back of his throat.
Thame pulled Dru to the bar, signaling to the barkeep.
"Just swallow it down, brother," Thame said so that only Dru would hear him.
"The stench...it's repulsive," Dru choked out.
Thame didn't have time to remind his brother that vomiting on the floor would gather the attention of several, possibly aggressive, fishermen because the barkeep approached them at that moment.
"What'll it be, boys?" The wizened old man asked, grinning at them.
Thame pinched Dru's arm when the younger brother cringed at the barkeep's gap-toothed smile, his teeth a brownish-yellow mixture.