Chapter 9 - The Merchant's Domain

When Aven woke that morning - he was cold. Colder than he’d ever been out on the streets of Exthellion or in the arena dungeons. Shivering and breathing warm air into his hands, Aven rolled to sit up and glanced over. There was an emptiness in the impression of hay beside him. No Lucian.

Aven blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Too early for this,” he grunted under his breath, forcing himself to his feet. “For the love of- where the hell has he gone."

He edged over to the barn. Rain fell from the grey skies, splashing against the muddy ground. "Lucian?” He called out, squinting through the downpour. No answer. His jaw slid forward and he splashed through the puddles towards the inn, and eased it open with his shoulder.

And there he was.

Lucian lounged upon the bar counter like he had found himself a throne with legs folded and hands planted onto its surface.

“-would like at least three blankets for the trip,” Lucian said as the innkeeper bustled about. “Two for myself, one for my companion. Food, as well. But none of your common squalor.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the innkeep said with a nod of his head. He rushed upstairs, nearly tripping over the second step in his hurry. The same innkeep that had insulted them and forced them into the barn the night before.

Aven blinked and stepped forward. “Lucian?” he questioned.

“About time.” Lucian slid down from the counter. “I was securing us a ride to Calimport.”

“What did you do to the poor man?”

“Do?” Lucian frowned. “I did nothing to him.” Lucian had a fresh change of clothes and he straightened out his tunic. “After speaking with him this morning, I was able to convince him of my nobility. I’ve fetched us a pair of horses that will take us to Calimport."

Aven glanced about. He could see a couple cloaked figures turn their heads slightly at the sound of Lucian’s voice and Aven grimaced. "Perhaps we should be quieter in throwing your title about,” he advised. “It’s unsafe."

"We’re a world away from Aeliorn. We’ll be fine.”

Aven’s eyes were locked on the hooded figures. They had returned to their meal and Aven exhaled, knocking away strands of brown hair. “All right, fine. Any chance we could eat, first?”

Lucian snapped his fingers. The tavern’s staff leapt into action. They kicked an elderly couple from their seats to make room for the Prince and his slave. Lucian eased down into his seat. “Sit down,” he said, fastening a handkerchief at his collar. “Afterwards, you’re to use their baths.”

“I already took one,” Aven lowered onto the chair. “At the port.”

“I hardly consider swimming about in scummy seawater to be a bath.”

“It got me wet and washed the dirt off.”

“Yes, algae in place of dirt, that’s such an improvement. It’s not a bath unless you’re clean, and you smell of wet dog. You’re taking a bath.”

“I thought I was free to make my own choices.”

“As am I. And I’m not going to travel with you when you make me retch every time you’re upwind.”

Aven frowned. “I just don’t think we should linger long. We’ll draw.. Unwanted attention.”

“As far as my uncle is concerned, I’ve been sold off to be a slave in some noble’s manor. Or dead. Word of our escape won’t reach him for some time. Ah, just in time.” Breakfast was set down in front of them. Bowls of fresh fruits, smoked trout with exotic spices with butter and wine.

Aven dug in, tearing into his fish. “If you’re so concerned about me being clean,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Why don’t you see to it that it’s done right yourself?”

Lucian arched a brow. “Surely you can wash yourself.”

“I’m just a dumb slave, right?"

"If you were a dumb slave boy, that gold would still be hung around your neck.” Lucian leaned forward. No smile touched his lips - just the spark of challenge igniting in his eyes. “Or would you prefer the leash and collar.”

Aven scowled. He lowered his voice to a shameful whisper. “How do public baths even work?"

Lucian scoffed. "Honestly, maybe you are better off with the collar if I must wash you like you were one of my hounds.” He waved at the food. “Eat. I’ll show you once we’re finished.” He picked at his food, manners unfailingly pristine.

The food coaxed a growl from the barbarian. “Fine by me,” he said, plucking a bit of fish up with his dirty fingers. “So long as I eat… I don’t care.” He shoved his meal into his gaping pit.

He ate like an animal, munching and crunching and Lucian glanced up with a look of disgust. “Surely you learned some manners while at the palace.”

“We’re not in the palace anymore, your majesty.”

“No reason why we must become animals just because we’ve been let off the leash.”

“Hey.” Aven pointed his grubby finger at Lucian. “When you’re in a survival situation, sometimes you don’t have the luxury of having perfect table manners.”

Lucian wrinkled his nose, eyes combing over the food hanging at the edge of Aven’s chin. “Just make sure you leave some scraps for your cat."

"Kion…” He wiped the rest away with his sleeve. “He eats more than I do. But he’ll be able to hunt something while we travel.”

“As long as he doesn’t eat one of Amn’s merchants, I don’t care what he does.”

Aven watched as Lucian daintily plucked away at his food with his fork. Held delicately between his fingers. Aven hesitated, and when he was sure Lucian wasn’t looking - drew up a fork to mimic the motions.

Lucian did notice.

The Prince glanced up and sighed, crossing over to Aven and lowered down. “Like this.” He took Aven’s hands carefully in his, positioning his fingers over the fork. “This is how you hold it.” The edge of his lip lifted. “I should have known you wouldn’t have known how to use these. I only invited you to the table with my uncle because I knew your lack of table manners would absolutely disgust him. Seems I was right.”

Aven flushed with growing embarrassment. Another basic thing that he had little to no experience with. “…we weren’t given silverware or anything when I was growing up,” he said. “When you’ve been fighting all day…it doesn’t really matter how the food gets into your mouth, really.”

“Surely your father taught you when you were little.”

“Maybe. If so, I don’t remember.”

“And he never taught you to read or write?”

“He started to,” Aven said. That much he remembered. One or two lessons with his father. “My father was an educated man. Can’t say I’ve ever written a single thing in my life but I can… read a little. Signs, mostly. Nothing like big stories…"

"Stop looking as though I’m going to punish you. You’re a slave. I didn’t expect you to be an educated one.”

"No. But I don’t like being… stupid. It’s just a reminder I’m useless with anything that’s not fighting.”

“You’re not stupid.” Aven’s eyes shot up in surprise at the sudden compliment. Lucian pushed to his feet. “If you’re going to be useful to me, you’ll need to learn how to read and write.“

"It’s nearly noon. Let’s get you washed so we can get on the road.” Lucian turned to the innkeeper, who was in the midst of sweeping. “You."

The man jolted, nearly dropping his broom. "Yes, your majesty?”

“Is the bath drawn?"

"I- yes, my lord, with warm water."

"With incense?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And lavender soap?"

The innkeeper’s eyes widened in alarm. "I- uh, n-no, my-"

"Tsch.” Lucian sighed. “I suppose that’s all right. Come along, Aven."

Aven shot the man a pitying look and followed Lucian as the young prince navigated towards the baths. He pushed open the door into a room filled with steam that hissed and elicited beads of sweat on Aven’s face. A tub filled with misty water dominated the back and Lucian knelt down, skimming his fingers across the surface. "Undress while the water is warm, Aven. It should be very pleasant.”

Aven grimaced. He drew off his dirty slave clothes and glanced to the fresh change that Lucian had sat on the edge of the bath. “You got me new clothes?"

"Of course. It won’t help anything if you smell good but your clothes still reek of shit. Do you need help?"

"No, I…” He flushed. “Sometimes I simply hate having to remind myself that I’m a grown man."

"Don’t mope.” As soon as Aven was bare of clothes, he took Aven’s hand and guided him over to the bath. It seemed small in comparison to Aven’s large form, like a grown man in a kiddie pool. Aven eased down into the bath, knees lofted out of the water and pressed against his chest to make room. Lucian took up the cloth on the edge, dipped it into the hot water and dragged it slowly across Aven’s back. His eyes were focused, and uncommonly tender.

Silence. Silence save for the sound of the cloth scraping against his calloused skin.

“…so, is it the same?” Aven asked, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

The edge of Aven’s lip lifted. “The same as washing one of your hounds.”

“Smellier.” The cloth traced over Aven’s scars. Lucian’s hand stilled. His eyes lingered on them for a moment, as though a question rolled over the tip of his tongue before deciding against it. He dragged it around to Aven’s abdomen, squeezing incense onto the cloth before continuing his delicate work.

Aven almost felt uncomfortable, being tended to so carefully. He shifted, water sloshing about. “How are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your wound. Being betrayed… all of it.” Aven’s warm eyes searched Lucian’s face. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked. Sometimes I forget not everyone is used to this kind of thing. I’ve just… expected you to keep up with me.”

Lucian’s jaw slid forward. “It hasn’t been pleasant,” he grunted. He paused, and lifted his hand to dab away the grime on Aven’s face. “But a certain brute reminded me that I can’t brood over my fate. Only face it.”

“The brute is impressed. He thinks he could’ve been stuck with worse company, believe it or not."

The smile was but a flicker on Lucian’s lips. "Had you not sullied the bathwater with your scum, that comment may have incited me to join you,” he purred. “I assume you know how to bathe yourself from here, yes?”

“I can handle it myself, I think. Thank you..Lucian."

"My lord,” Lucian was swift to correct. “Free or not, I am your superior. Do not mistake my kindness for leniency. I’ll be downstairs.” Fetching a white cloak from a hook, Lucian fastened it around his neck and strode out the door.

———————————-

After Aven fit himself into a pair of clothes that weren’t simply crudely sewn rags, he made his way outside to reach Lucian. He stepped outside the inn, fit his axes to his hips - and grinned broadly.

Lucian knelt down beside Kion, belly bared to him. Aven could hear his soft coos as he scratched his fingers across Kion’s underside. Aven beamed and strode forward.

“Enjoying yourself?” he purred. “Not you, Kion. We all know you are."

Lucian flushed and pushed to his feet, swiping his hands across his pants. “He was moaning that you were gone. And I think he’s hungry.” He’s swift to change topic. "Can you ride? I’ve found us a couple horses."

"I’m actually great with horses. We used them in the arena for a change of scenery.” Aven paused. “Granted, the horses typically died, but it was an occupational hazard.”

“Good. It’s a long ride to Calimport. Burt-"

"Burt?"

"The Inn Keeper. He said we could choose from the lot of his horses… I thought this one would fit you well.” Lucian disappeared into the stables, and reemerged with a large, dark mare. “I heard some of the patrons inside talking… the slavers are looking for us. We need to move, fast.”

“And what about you? Where’s your horse?”

Lucian smirked. “I did a little studying this morning before you woke,” he purred. “I believe I’ve learned a new spell that will ensure I’m never without a mount again.”

Aven’s eyes widened. “You’re saying you can summon a horse.”

“That’s right. I’d say a golden palomino will do.”

Lucian threw out his hands. But there was no horse. Instead - a blast of magic burst from Lucian’s palms, and he landed hard on his back with a gasp.

“Lucian!” Aven dropped to one knee beside him. “Gods, you are the most accident prone person I’ve ever met. Are you all right?"

"I’m fine,” Lucian hissed, sitting up. “My magic is just… temperamental, is all. Perhaps it would be best to retrieve a horse from the stables.”

Aven helped him to his feet. Lucian pushed off of Aven’s arm, stalked towards the stable… and Aven blinked. “Uh… my lord?”

“What?”

Aven pointed. Every step Lucian took glowed with energy on the ground, thrumming with magic. “The hell is this? Are you suddenly a conductor of being followed to your death?"

Lucian ground his teeth and walked in a circle. Every step glowed a bright, white light. Lucian dragged his fingers down his face. "Just my luck.”

“So what now?”

“It won’t last forever,” he murmured. He entered the barn, bringing out a painted mare. “We’ll be far from here by the time they catch up with us.” Lucian unfurled a map and scowled. “Damn this common tongue. It’s nothing like Aelorian script.”

“I’d offer to help, but I don’t read maps. We should start on the road, and find our way during."

—————————–

It continued to stay grey through the day. The rain had stopped several hours in, and the temperature grew colder and colder. Aven drew into his cloak, exhaled and watched the mist lift from his lips and curl into the air.

He suddenly pulled his horse to a stop and Lucian twisted about in his saddle in alarm. "Aven?” He asked. “What’s wrong."

Aven didn’t respond. His eyes were locked upwards, wide with wonder as white flakes drifted down from the bloated grey clouds. He reached out his hand, plucking one between his fingers and it melted instantly.

"Have you never seen snow?” Lucian asked.

“Snow? No… this is a first.” He’d heard of snow, of course. From his father, recounting journeys across Aeliorn. But to see it… “It’s colder than I thought it would be.”

Lucian smirked. “The first time I ever saw snow, it was on a diplomatic journey with my father to one of Aeliorn’s northern provinces, Fenfir,” he said. Lucian closed his eyes. Icy breath exhaled from between his pale lips. “I prefer it. If you grow cold, you merely have to don a cloak, or a wool blanket. The heat… you can’t escape heat.”

“I’m used to the heat. I feel heat every time my temper sets off.”

“Woe be unto thee to be too hot for one’s own good.”

A fresh layer of snow covered the ground now. The pair were entering into a steep valley, barren, snowy cliffs flanking them as they led their horses through.

Aven watched the cliffs carefully. Caves and tunnels flanked along the sides, and large boulders were mounted on the edges. It all seemed very…. arranged. He spurred his horse ahead. “Lucian-"

"I know.” Lucian’s features remained unchanged, voice lowered. “We’re being watched.”

Aven could see them out of the corner of his eye. Dark, hulking figures hid up near the tops of the cliffs beside the boulders.

Aven directed his horse closer to Lucian’s side. “Keep talking normally. We’ll pretend they have the advantage… but speed up."

"Easy enough. By the way, how do you stand the stench of your own scent? It seems a lifetime of squalor has permanently permeated your skin.” Lucian’s voice carried throughout the valley.

“Excuse you,” Aven grumbled out, voice echoing. “I had a nice loral bath for you, I better smell fantastic.”

“It dulled the smell for a time, but nothing can erode your foulness forever.”

“You’d know a thing or two about being foul,” Aven bantered back. He then leaned down, lips brushing Lucian’s ear. To any passerby, it may have looked like a kiss - but his words hissed out, low and quiet. “How fast and discreet can you cast something? They may be trying to crush us.”

“Already on it.” Lucian’s eyes were closed in focus. His brows were knit, sweat beading at his temple.

Where normally Lucian would be uttering an incantation, there was silence as he attempted to juggle the spell without vocalization. For a moment, a low mist billowed through the valley, like a breath. Then Aven heard it. A sound from behind them… hooves, thundering in the distance. Aven spun in his saddle in shock. A procession of not one or two, but fifteen riders thundered down the path, knighted figures atop their fearsome mounts.

“Lucian?!”

“It’s okay,” Lucian hissed out in focus. “They’re not real… but they’re enough.”

Aven looked up. So far, the plan was working. The figures were shrinking back at the sudden arrival of the knights. Lucian just had to keep it up long enough… but Aven could tell it was a struggle. Lucian’s fingers trembled around the reins of his horse as he kept the illusion up. One or two riders would have been easy, but a dozen… it strained his ability.

“Hold it,” Aven whispered as the knight illusions gathered around them. “Lucian, you must hold it.”

Lucian tried. They’d made it nearly to the edge of the valley - when with a gasp, Lucian threw his head over and the knights dissolved into white mist.

One of the hulking figures stepped to the edge of the cliff.

Taller than any man, the beasts were hulking and inhumanly brutish, skin covered in warty bumps. They glowered down at the pair. One wielded a massive club, barbs running down its lengths. “Tricksie mages, try to fool ogres!” He roared. He pointed his club down at the pair. “Kill them all!” Four more leapt from trees at the top of the cliff - and kicked several large boulders down towards them.

Aven charged his horse to the side, one of the great rocks grinding and crashing as it rolled beside him. Lucian’s horse reared up, throwing him and bounded down the valley. He hit the ground, hard, gritting his teeth and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed as another boulder crashed down the cliffside.

“Lucian!” Aven drew his horse over to him and jumped down. “We need to go!”

Lucian threw out his hand. A javelin that had been sailing towards Aven’s back was deflected by a shield that was conjured and Lucian ground his teeth, throwing forward his hands as a wall of water was summoned between the two and their ogre assailants. “We can’t move. If we do, they’ll catch us with their boulders, or their javelins.”

Aven ground his teeth. Lucian was right. If they tried to move, they’d be sitting ducks. But… maybe.. He narrowed his eyes. “…Lucian,” he said. “The ledge, look!”

Lucian turned. Confusion melted into shock. “The cliff,” he whispered. Right beneath the ogres - it was weakened.

Aven nodded. “Is there anything you can do to…”

Lucian glanced over. A smile was hooked at the corner of his lip. “You’re about to have five ogres tumbling down at you. Are you ready to take them, Beast Tamer?”

Aven’s fingers curled around the hilt of his axe. “You know I am, your majesty.”

“Cover me.” The wall of water lowered. One of the ogres hurled a spear and Aven swung his axe, cutting it in half before it could reach the Prince whose eyes glowed a hot white, throwing out his hands towards the cliff. An array of fire, water, sound, acid and lightning exploded from his fingertips in a single ray, smashing into the side of the cliff.

A howl of alarm - and they were falling. “Get ready!” Lucian cried out.

Aven barked with laughter at the ogres tumbling down the mountain side. “Who’s first!” He roared, hefting his axes.

Aven waited - waited until the first ogre was within reach and he surged forward, one powerful strike opening up the ogre’s throat.

Two more were approaching from behind Aven and Lucian threw out his hand, a slate of slippery goo splattering across the ground. They lost balance. Slipping and sliding, they skid into one another, giving Aven the perfect opportunity to come in for another strike, his axe tearing through their armour.

Hit.

Dodge.

Strike.

Repeat.

It was a pattern Aven knew well. And the harder he fought - the more his vision turned red. The more his blood pounded, clouded his eyes and dominated his senses. He fought for the kill. One of the ogres was charging him and Aven snarled - charging right back. He couldn’t feel the spear digging into his hip, only the pounding of his heart as he pushed the ogre back against the cliff and swung his axe down. It bit into the ogre’s stomach.

Aven didn’t wait to see if he’d killed it. He was already on to the next, leaping on top of a boulder and spun mid air. His axes were a cyclone of death. They passed through the skull of the third ogre and as the fourth tried to run, Aven hurled it forward. It spun once - twice - and impaled itself into the back of the ogre’s head.

Their leader was no such coward. He hefted his club and roared, racing towards Aven. The club was as big as Aven’s torso. The barbarian tumbled to the side, spiked club biting into the snow covered ground and Aven dragged his axe up its side as he came to his feet. It seemed unphased.

The ogre roared, backhanded Aven and he was thrown against the cliff. His head rang. He blinked away the blackness in his eyes in time to duck down, club smashing against the stone. He barely had any time to recover before the ogre’s forearm caught Aven in the chest, sending him to the ground.

The ogre’s lips pulled back in a bloody smile, thrilled. He laughed, lifting his club. “Night night, human!” He said, lifting his club - when a roar reverberated through the canyon. Kion leapt over his master, the scream of the ogre cut off as powerful jaws crunched down onto his throat and disappeared under a five hundred pound cat.

Aven slowly stood, the rush in his head blurring the sound of crunching bones as his lion feasted. His chest heaved. His head was bowed. “You should get back on your horse.” His voice was like gravel.

Lucian however, sat comfortably upon a rock, his laugh like bells as he clapped his hands slowly. “That was quite a show. You might as well have not even left the arena."

"Shut up. That could have been really bad,” Aven hissed. He threw his axes onto his back, cutting the distance to his horse.

“The way you fight really is like an art.” Lucian jumped off, delicately dancing around the red pools across the ground as he retrieved his now calmed horse. “Your blades the brushes. The blood your ink. The body your canvas. You, my slave, are a master of your trade.”

"Well I’m glad someone notices the intricacy of my craft,“ Aven snorted. “Only took me over a decade of training to be able to slaughter a group of orcs.”

"Lucky us, considering you’re my bodyguard.” Lucian looked to the sky where grey clouds were gathering. “There should be a tavern further down the road. Let’s get somewhere dry before we’re snowed on.”