man

[maderr]

To judge by my flist, I think everyone is having a rough week x.x

Um. I am worthless at comfort. As per usual I can only offer writings, but if you want them to distract/cheer/whathaveyou - chps. 3 & 4 of cursed knight ^^;; I had meant to keep it all back, but man. Of late everyone seems so down.



Chapter Three


Clovis woke with a groan, muscles protesting movement.

The smell of food, however, was worth the pain.

Looking over the edge of the loft, he smiled down as Tula looked up. Turning, he saw that Raban was still fast asleep, snoring softly, face half-covered by his hair.

Chuckling, Clovis left him to sleep a bit longer and scrambled into his over shirt, pulling the laces tight before stamping into his boots and climbing down the ladder.

"Fair morning," Tula said brightly.

"The very same to you," Clovis replied. He took a seat at the small table when she motioned, and beamed as a bowl of porridge was set before him, along with a pitcher of milk. Pouring a bit of milk over the porridge, he ate with relish.

He looked up at the sound of movement a few minutes later, grinning. "If you don't hurry up and get down here, you lazy oaf, I'm going to help myself to your portion."

"Aye," Raban replied, head appearing over the edge, "and then you'll find yourself going for a swim in the creek. Tula, poppet, do not let him steal my breakfast."

Giggling, Tula went back to work on the bread she was making.

Raban was just digging in to his own food when Kay appeared, lugging a basket full of vegetables from the garden he'd glimpsed last night. Smiling shyly, she sat down at the table and began to sort through the basket, cleaning and preparing everything, using a sharp knife to cut and trim with an expertise that both impressed and horrified.

Finished eating, Clovis dumped his dishes in the bucket clearly intended for such, then went to fetch his things, bringing Raban's down with him.

"So where are you headed?" Tula asked as she set the bread dough aside to rise, wiping her hands on a strip of old cloth. "Did you need to go into the village? Uncle is checking the traps right now, but he's headed into the village after that, he would gladly give you a ride."

Clovis nodded. "That would be appreciated. We need to barter for supplies."

"As well as determine which road to take next," Raban interjected. "This time of year, it's not always wise to take the Vele road."

Tula nodded, clearly knowing exactly what he was talking about. Clovis felt lost and somewhat stupid that a simple young village girl knew more about such things than he did. He was being stupid. "It has been a rather dry summer, you'd probably do better to take the Pette road, and head that way. What's your final destination?"

Clovis exchanged a brief look with Raban, shrugging. He didn't particularly care who knew what he was about, and he was hardly the only idiot making such a journey.

"We rogues have never attempted the Shining Mountain," Raban replied with a lazy grin. "As we are getting too old for gallivanting about the countryside, we thought we'd make one last lark of the Shining Mountain before we resigned ourselves to being properly settled and all that."

Kay looked up, eyes bright. "Oh, the Shining Mountain! Are you going to see the Forgotten King? The Priest says it's a journey for nitwits."

"Oh, aye," Raban said with a laugh. "Nitwits and rogues, to be sure. As we are rogues, obviously we must go up the Shining Mountain. Otherwise we would not be very good rogues."

Giggling, Kay went back to cutting her vegetables, but it was not with half the focus she had been attending the chore before.

Tula moved to gather them all up, sweeping the chopped vegetables into a bowl.

He listened as Raban and Tula continued to debate which roads to take, quietly grateful he'd let Raban join him in the tavern. He would have had no idea where he was going, and likely it would have only been a matter of time before someone assaulted the unsuspecting traveler he obviously was proving to be.

The door opened with a creak, and Rasp appeared carrying three dead hares. Handing them to Tula, who went promptly to working cleaning the carcasses, he washed his hands in a small tub of water and then sat down at the table.

Kay stood and moved to prepare a bowl of porridge and a mug of tea for him, before resuming her work.

"Sleep well?" Rasp asked.

"Yes, thank you," Clovis replied. "Best night of rest I've had in a long time."

"Good, good. I'm headed into the village shortly, if you want a lift. There's not much to it, but I'm sure you can find what you need or near enough."

Raban nodded. "Yes, and Tula was just assisting us in determining where to go next. We deeply appreciate your hospitality."

"You saved me a great deal of money and trouble," Rasp said, waving the words away. He ate quickly, finishing his tea in several deep gulps. Setting the dishes aside, he stood up. "Whenever you boys are ready to go, just come on outside. I've got everything hitched and ready."

They stood as Rasp departed again, shouldering their bags. Moving to Kay, Raban picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you, milady. I hope good fortune finds you all your life."

Kay just blinked, stared, and turned bright pink.

Raban moved on to Tula, repeating the gesture. "I hope you find a husband who knows how to appreciate you."

"Thank you," Tula said, flushing as bright as her sister. "A blessing to your travels, master rogues."

"We will likely need that blessing," Raban said, sliding an amused look toward Clovis, "so I thank you, milady."

Making his own thanks and farewells, thought not as ridiculous as Raban's, Clovis led the way outside. A few minutes later they were well on their way toward the village.

Raban grunted as they hit another deep rut in the road. "Has anyone been maintaining these roads?" he asked. "What the devil is being done with the tax money that should be keeping the roads in good repair? Have I been gone so long, not to know something everyone else does?"

Clovis shook his head. "You have been gone a long time, my friend." How strange it was to say those words, and mean them. Was it possible to think of a man as a friend after not even two full days had passed? "The King has cared about little since the death of his heir. He does what he must, but…those who remember better what he was like fifteen years ago say that he is nothing like what he used to be."

"Aye," Rasp agreed. "Once these roads and all the others were well-maintained indeed, but year by year they get worse, and the men appointed to tend them spend the gold on other things." The dark cast to his face said more plainly than words what manner of things the gold purchased.

"I see," Raban said quietly, looking troubled. "Clearly I have been gone too long. I was not aware the Crown Prince was dead."

Clovis stared at him. "How in the world could you not be aware of that?"

Raban shrugged. "I left Gortage when I was boy, and have been back for the first time only in these past two weeks. By now, who cares to speak of the death of the Crown Prince? When I left, he was apparently a useless troublemaker anyway."

"Aren't all young boys?" Rasp asked. "I sowed plenty of wild oats in my day." He laughed. "Plenty, indeed."

"I think I spent all my time getting in trouble, or suffering punishment when I invariably got caught," Clovis said with a sigh. "I swear I never do it on purpose. Most of it."

Raban laughed. "I would imagine you'll be getting in trouble until your dying day, my friend. No doubt an equally troublesome p—lass is exactly what you need." He winked.

Clovis grimaced. Ha! The minute he returned home, Princess Brat was going to send him right back to the stables, very likely for taking too long on the matter of her damned quest. He could see it clear as day. It would be exactly like her.

If there was a Forgotten King on top of the mountain, he fervently hoped the man would grant his desire for a palace completely void of aggravating, shrieking princesses. What was she up to now? Had she found someone else to send to the stables for every transgression.

The thought did not settle well. In fact it was downright unpleasant. Did she even care he was gone? Probably not. That thought was even worse. She'd been preparing for one of her confounded garden parties when he'd left. If it did not start today, it would begin soon, and last five days. She'd given him extra stable duties just for the occasion, and the entire palace had been all but drowned in flowers, the poor gardeners hassled to death as they put the finishing touches on the hedge maze, the special rose garden.

Blue was the popular color this year, so probably she'd be dressed in a blue frock embroidered with flowers to match those in the garden, and her hair pinned up with still more flowers. Stupid. The woman was an aggravation.

Even when she was miles and miles away.

Scowling, Clovis forced his thoughts elsewhere. "So we're headed towards Pette?"

"Yes," Raban said. "From there we'll start going north again, straight toward the Shining Mountain. We'll need to pick up a lot of supplies in Pette, though. It's the last major town around here. After that, it's just small villages – and many of them barely qualify as that."

Rasp grunted. "Aye. If you're going up that damned mountain, you'll need stuff more suited to the weather. It's all snow and ice toward the top. A dangerous climb, that." Bitter pain clouded his face.

"You lost someone," Raban said quietly.

"Aye," Rasp said. "My brother. He…was never satisfied with his life. Took it into his head to go chasing things he should have outgrown. Someone found him, brought his village marker back to us. His wife died giving birth to Kay. I've taken care of the girls since he ran off. They don't know why he left or how he died. I plan to keep it that way." He shook his head, and continued on before Raban or Clovis could speak. "You should be careful out Pette way. We did hear a lot of talk of dragons while we were there, and unlike the girls I know that's not cause for excitement."

No, it really wasn't. Dragons were a nasty business. He shuddered and unintentionally touched his thigh, which still bore the nasty burn scare incurred from a young green dragon. That was about when he'd given up thinking he'd ever had friends.

Because the boys he'd taken for friends had nearly gotten him killed by tricking him into wandering straight into a dragon lair. He'd killed the damned thing by pure accident and sheer dumb luck – if it had been any older and wiser, he would have been a pile of ash.

Retelling the tale for the girls, he'd left out the gorier details. Neither had his story ended with his friends apologizing and helping to bandage his wounds. No…he'd crawled and limped from the forest, back to the outskirts of the city, to find his 'friends' had gone off to do something else entirely and his mother was as drunk as usual.

He'd bound his own wounds and collapsed on his pallet, not moving for a day and a half, until he'd finally been forced to work if he wanted to keep himself fed. Not once had his mother taken notice.

"I wonder what stirred a dragon up," Raban said. "They usually keep to their cool lairs this time of year. I know I wouldn't mind a nice cool, dark place. Another hour and the sun will be doing its best to melt the lot of us."

Clovis grunted an agreement. Next time his mouth got him into a quest, he needed to make certain it was during a more pleasant time of year. Knowing his luck, however, the next time something like this happened, it would be the dead of winter.

They lapsed into silence, traveling steadily toward the village. When they finally reached it, Rasp let them off near the general goods shop. "Thank you again, gentlemen rogues," Rasp said with a smile. "I hope the gods bless your travels. Do not be so foolish as to trade your life for a stupid mountain, if the going should prove too difficult."

"Never fear," Clovis said. "I have no intention of getting myself killed for a stupid quest."

Raban snickered. "Thank you for the hospitality, Rasp. Happiness and good fortune to you and your nieces. Farewell."

"Farewell," Rasp said, and flicked the reins, wandering away further into town.

Clovis stared after him a moment, then settled his pack. "Well, that is that."

"That adventure went much better than our first, eh?" Raban asked. "Let us see what we can—"

"By the gods, that is Lord Horse Dung."

Clovis bristled, jerking around to face the source of the words, glaring darkly. "Bugger off, Tandem."

Tandem bared his teeth in a nasty smile. "Princess send you to clean out stables further a field? We've got a few you might like."

"Give me the pitchfork," Clovis snapped, "and I'll shove it up your arse. You'd probably like that."

"Still a bastard and a fool, aren't you, Lord Horse Dung?" Tandem was tall, handsome, and well-situated in life. Why he was here, instead of back in the city…hmm, maybe he'd bedded the wrong girl for once.

Tandem had been one of the friends to nearly get him killed by a dragon. Clovis had hated him ever since. Tandem had probably hated him always – but with a vengeance since Clovis had broken his pretty little nose and left a small scar on it that kept his handsome features from being perfect.

He made a good knight, if good knight mean someone who looked good in armor and liked to fuck anything in a skirt rather than tend his responsibilities. He was a knight because his father had married wealthy and backstabbed his way into the city council.

"So are you here because you put your dick in the wrong girl, Tandem?"

Tandem scowled.

Oh, that hit the target just beautifully.

Clovis stepped forward as Tandem did the same, not bothering to draw his sword and Tandem wouldn't either. They'd always preferred fists when it came to one another. He'd perfect his right hook on Tandem.

Tandem suddenly smirked. "You're just jealous, Horse Dung. I can get whatever I want, and the closet you get to a lay is yelling at that damned Harpy. Do actually think she'd ever spread—"

He reacted without thinking, rushing forward and swinging hard, hearing the satisfying crunch of a nose beneath his fist. Really, Tandem never had been terribly quick.

Clovis grunted as he took a hit in the side, not quite able to block it. Kicking out, he sent Tandem tumbling back, surging after him to catch him on the jaw, blocked at the last by armor.

Swearing, he backed off, hand throbbing. Damn it, wearing steel was cheating. "Bastard," he said.

"No, I'm legitimate. I even know the day of my birth. How old are you, Lord Horse Dung?"

Clovis flushed. "Old enough to own up to my responsibilities. Old enough not to get banished because I can't keep my dick in my pants."

This time Tandem rushed him, but Clovis was ready for him. A hard blow to the gut sent Tandem sprawling, moaning low in pain. Clovis started forward to knock the bastard out for good – a hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Trouble really does follow you," Raban said calmly. "Or perhaps waits to jump you. That's enough, Clovis."

Clovis grunted and jerked his wrist free. "I didn't start it."

Raban smiled, but whatever he was about to say abruptly died. Clovis had never seen a man actually go pale before. He turned to see what had grabbed Raban's attention.

His gaze landed on a tall, slender man with ash blonde hair and light-colored eyes. Like Tandem, he was dressed in light armor. Unlike Tandem, he wore various badges of honor and marks of battle. He was also a Captain. An islander a Captain in the royal army?

Hells, most of the islanders never left their damned rock. A hundred years later they were still irate that they were officially a part of Gortage. Naturally that meant most of the men had to serve a set amount of time in the army, but most of them did their duty and promptly returned home. It was a rare sight to see one climb through the ranks.

Clovis dug through his woefully pathetic store of knowledge and finally dredged up a name. Captain Jovan Grozdan.

Why in the world was Raban so upset by the sight of the Captain?

"What is going on here?" Captain Grozdan demanded. He stalked from the building that was marked by the thistle and star symbol of the royal house, with the sword of the army diving it in half. The local barracks, then.

He stopped in front of Clovis, close enough he could see the Captain's eyes were pale gray.

"Ask your man," Clovis snapped, refusing to back down. "He started it. We're just travelers, he greeted me with crude names. I merely finished the matter."

Lips pinched tight in annoyance, Captain Grozdan turned sharply around and delivered a swift kick to Tandem's side. "You were banished here so you wouldn't cause trouble, miscreant. Gods grant me the patience and wisdom not to string you up by your dick and leave you for the animals. One more foul up and that'll be your fate. I'm not scared of your father."

He turned back to Clovis. "Giving him the fight he wanted was not the way to handle the matter, but I can't entirely blame you for it. What's your name?"

"Clovis, this is my friend Raban," Clovis replied. "We're just travelers."

"Just travelers," Tandem sneered. "More likely you're doing the bidding of that skirt-wearing Harpy."

Captain Grozdan kicked him again, then stooped down and hauled Tandem to his feet. "I am growing weary of you, Tandem. You're lucky putting you in the stocks would make all of us look bad, though you seem to do that anyway. Get on with you!" He threw Tandem toward some other soldiers, who looked as though they were all too used to hauling Tandem away for punishment – and enjoyed doing it.

"City boys," Captain Grozdan said in disgust. "Too many of them think they'll have it easy out here. They're lucky we're on the mainland. Back home, we'd make them swim with the sharks for a bit. That tends to make a man behave."

Having no idea what the devils a shark was, Clovis chose not to comment. "Thank you, Captain," he said instead. "I'm sorry for stirring up trouble."

"It's no matter," Captain Grozdan said. He started to say something more, but stopped, frowning deeply. Clovis realized he was looking at Raban. "Do I…know you?" he asked.

Raban shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. I would remember an islander in a royal uniform."

Captain Grozdan made a face at that, but smiled faintly. "Well, forgive me, then. You look familiar, but I can't quite place why." He shrugged. "Is there a reason you strangers have wandered into town?"

"We're just passing through," Clovis said. "We wanted to purchase foodstuffs before traveling on to Pette."

"I see. Well, I am headed that way myself, shortly. I am returning from my rounds of the villages. If you would like to accompany me, you are most welcome." His eyes flicked again to Raban.

Clovis rolled his eyes and made a note to ask Raban what in the world was going on – because he was thickheaded, but he wasn't stupid. Raban clearly knew the guy, so why wasn't he admitting it?

Captain Grozdan clapped him on the shoulder, and motioned to Raban. "Come on, then. Let me make certain Tandem won't be going anywhere the rest of the day, then I'll see to it you are well stocked without being fleeced."

He turned to make a jest about Raban being the one talented at fleecing, but the troubled look to his eyes drew Clovis up short. Letting the jest slide by, he instead let the Captain ramble on about the village and Pette, and how much fun it would be to fasten Tandem to the horse and drag him the entire way.



Chapter Four


What had he done to infuriate the gods so? He could think of no other reason that he would stumble across someone who might actually recognize him.

Gods above, Javon had grown up well. Extremely well. Two years his senior, give or take a few months. He'd just been a squire, then. Raban had been enamored with all the fervor only a fifteen year old boy could muster.

It almost made him laugh, thinking of how he'd almost given in to an impulse to go and say farewell before he ran away. He still remembered every moment of that day, from the argument to trying to find somewhere to sleep when it had really sunk in he was no longer a prince.

That reminded him he was a dead prince. Dead. The word still rang in his ear. He'd thought before about learning what had officially become of him…he'd just assumed his father would declare him missing.

Instead he'd somehow arranged for Raban to be dead.

Even five years ago, he probably would have been angered by that thought. Ten years ago he would have been enraged beyond all reasoning. Now, though…it just caused a deep ache in his chest. He'd defied his father and run away from the responsibilities of his birth…and his father had declared him dead so he was well and truly free to do as he pleased.

He wanted to go home.

The thought was both depressing and lifting. Until now, he had not actually thought so directly about it. For all the good it did him. The point was moot.

Ghosts didn't have homes…especially the ghosts of bratty, spoiled princes.

In three months he would be thirty. Didn't that mean he was too old for problems like this?

At least Jovan hadn't completely recognized him. He wondered that he looked familiar at all. What about him back then had been worth remembering?

He rolled his shoulders to ease some of the tension in them, though he knew it wouldn't ease until he left again. Why had he come back? He should take his leave before Jovan somehow managed to place him, though he didn't see why anyone would realize he was a dead man.

Shaking his head, he turned away from gazing at the forest to try and focus on his companions. He knew Clovis sensed something was off, and honestly he should be hiding it better…but it had shaken him badly that someone had nearly recognized him.

Panic should keep a man from noticing certain things, he thought. Maybe he'd never grow out of being a fool. Under any other circumstances, he'd be doing his damnedest to get close and personal with the good Captain.

The young man he remembered had certainly grown up well. Extremely well. The gangly awkwardness he remember wore armor as though it weighed nothing. He rode a horse like he was born to it.

Raban carefully turned his thoughts away from riding, all but rolling his eyes at himself. Obviously he'd been going a bit too long with only himself for company. Especially if he was thinking such things about a man he needed to stay well away from.

What in the hells was he going to do if someone did recognize him?

He couldn't stand to think about it.

"You've been quiet," Jovan said, smiling. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, quite," Raban said, summoning an easy smile of his own. "I simply got lost in my own head."

"We'll have to keep you from getting lost again," Jovan replied, grinning. "Have you ever been to Pette, Master Raban?"

"Years ago," Raban replied. "I believe the Captain then was much older, and possessed a hideous mustache."

Jovan smiled faintly. "Aye, he did. Unfortunately, it was about all that was left him when the beasts were done." He sighed. "He was ever too fond of his ale, I'm afraid."

"I am sorry."

"It was years ago, as you said, and I'm not sure he wanted to go any way but drunk, to hear the natives tell it."

Raban nodded. "Speaking of natives, it is rare to see an islander a Captain. Dare I think we might have lured one of you away from your beaches?"

Jovan snorted. "You never had to lure. My people have never known what to do with me." He grinned. "I hate the heat, I hate the sand. Even now I wish we could skip summer and go straight back to winter."

Clovis laughed. "Heathen talk, that, surely! An islander cannot live with his sand."

"I seem to be muddling along just fine," Jovan replied. "I'm not sure two fools set on the Shining Mountain have any room to speak." He motioned vaguely in the air. "Then again, only a fool would disobey the Princess."

"Oh, I seem to recall it was being defiant that got me in this fix," Clovis replied.

"Still, perhaps his Majesty will make her keep to the vow. It would hardly be seemly for her Highness to go back on such a promise," Jovan said. "He would never stand to see the family name besmirched so."

Raban was astonished his father had not already interfered in the matter. The man he remembered would have had volumes to say on the matter, for his daughter to behave in so callous and reckless a fashion. It was the entire reason quests had fallen out of favor – too many men died doing them, and of what use was a dead beau? If he was there, he would have given her a tongue lashing to leave her ears ringing for a month solid.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to join the conversation. "The point is moot until he accomplishes the quest, and we are some ways from the mountain. Scaling it is something else altogether."

"I do not envy you the quest," Jovan said. "Making my rounds is all the adventure I need."

"Yes, speaking of rounds, I notice the roads are in a terrible state. All during my travels, I bragged about the roads of my homeland. It is distressing to return home and see I have become nothing more than a braggart."

Jovan's mouth twisted. "Indeed. I do the best I can within my territory, but until someone sees fit to send the money that is our due for such things, my hands are tied." He spread one hand. "Somewhere, the money is being lost. I have sent word time and again, or tried, but it amounts to nothing. I dare not leave this place too long unattended to make the journey to the capital myself."

"Well, if I manage not to get myself killed," Clovis interjected, "I'll see to it someone is informed. I would imagine that once I come back successful people might actually see me as more than an idiot lucky enough to stray into the Princess' attention only to squander it by making of her an enemy."

Raban laughed. "It will be interesting to see how this adventure ends, my friend, that is a certainty. We must only keep you out of trouble long enough to succeed."

Traveling on horseback, reaching Pette took no time at all. It was early evening when they finally arrived, and Jovan led them quickly through the large town to the barracks roughly in the center of it, close to the small square that served as a general market for the surrounding villages.

After seeing to the horses, he led the way inside. "Give me a few minutes to attend to duty, and I will take you to the tavern for dinner, if you like," Jovan said with a smile. "It is rare I find myself with such pleasant company to enjoy out here."

Raban thought for a moment those eyes lingered overlong on him, but given the state of his thoughts he very well could have imagined it. Even if he had seen a flutter of interest, best to ignore it. He almost reached up to touch the chain around his neck, the heavy signet ring hanging from it, but made himself hold still.

"You've been too quiet," Clovis said as they were left alone in the front room. "Why did you lie?"

"I was hoping you'd missed that," Raban said with a sigh. "Please, I have my reasons. Never did I expect anyone to recognize me, not after so many years. I don't want to be recognized."

Clovis looked at him, brow furrowed in thought, and Raban held his breath. Did Clovis know? Had he somehow figured it out? What was he going to do? Damn it, this was why he had always avoided making friends. Eventually, secrets always came out.

But after a moment, Clovis only shrugged. "If you don't want to be recognized, then stop acting strangely. That will just draw more attention. Anyway, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning, right? If you don't want to deal with him further, plead exhaustion and go to bed."

Raban made a face. "No, that would be far too rude, and I can't think he'll actually remember me for all he said I looked familiar. You're right, we leave in the morning. I'm certain nothing will come of it."

He looked back toward the door where Jovan had vanished, thinking it a pity that nothing would be coming of their odd reunion. Jovan really had grown up well.

A few minutes later Jovan reappeared, handing off a scrap of paper to an attending soldier and sending him off, before clapping his hands together and approaching Clovis and Raban. "Ready, my fine new friends? I promise the local tavern has the best food for miles, and they do not thin out the ale."

"Sounds good to me," Raban replied, smiling because for some reason he couldn't not return Jovan's smile. "Lead the way."

The tavern was not as crowded as he'd been expecting, and the owner greeted them warmly before bustling them over to one of the best tables. "Captain, good to have you back. How's the rabble?"

Jovan laughed. "All is well for now. Let us hope it stays that way. Did I miss anything my men are not inclined to report?"

Laughing loudly, large belly shaking with it, the tavern owner shook his head. "No, just the usual ruckus. I believe Barrow is in the stocks again."

"Yes, I saw that," Jovan said, mouth twisting in a smile that was mostly amusement, but also frustration. "Well, bring us ale and whatever you are making today. My new friends and I are quite famished. Oh, my manners. This is Clovis, and that is Raban. They are rogues, but remarkably well-mannered for all that."

"A pleasure, gentlemen. I will see your food and ale is brought."

He vanished, calling to the woman behind the bar, leaving them in peace.

"As you've probably guessed," Jovan said with a grin, "I come here often."

"That was the general impression," Raban teased, knowing he shouldn't, unable to help it.

The brief look he got said the teasing was duly noted.

Perhaps he needed more time abroad. Clearly a decade and a half was not enough to beat the stupidity out of him.

Thankfully he was spared another chance to do something stupid by the return of the owner, who seemed to overburden their table with food. "Enjoy, gentlemen. Just call if you need anything else."

"My thanks," Jovan said, and tossed a small purse of coins at him.

"The pleasure is mine, Captain," the owner replied. "Always a pleasure to serve good men of the crown."

Raban's stomach soured. He hadn't really known this new and grown Jovan long, but it was plain as day he was very much a good man. He'd been a good boy, or so Raban recalled. Perhaps that had always been part of his infatuation, back then. Jovan was very much what he'd never been.

Sighing quietly at himself, ignoring the brief, worried look – how strange, that someone worried about him – Clovis shot him, he lifted his tankard and drank deeply. "This looks to be a fine repast," he said as he finished drinking. "I hardly know where to start."

"The mutton, while it's still hot," Jovan said promptly, and began to push and pull and rearrange the dishes scattered across the table. In the blink of an eye, all three men were eating with a vengeance, rapidly conquering all the food on the table.

When they'd finished, the tavern was packed with all manner of people, a handful of soldiers stopping by to briefly greet their Captain before vanishing for meals of their own.

Raban took a small sip of his ale. "So what is all this we've been hearing about a blue dragon running about?"

Jovan rolled his eyes. "Blue is it, now? The first time I heard tale of a dragon causing mayhem, it was black Then it was red. Next it was violet. Now blue has apparently come into favor. I wonder what will be next?"

"Pink," Clovis said with a snicker. "Maybe silver or gold?"

Snorting, Jovan took a healthy swallow of his ale. "To my mind, the only dragons around here are those being found by farmers in the dregs of their ale. I would believe the tales more, but so far I've heard of naught but two missing sheep. Hardly the work of dragons, especially when we can find no evidence of one. Drunken farmers and lazy sheepherders, nothing more!"

"That is what we thought," Raban replied, "but it is unwise to ignore any word of dragons. I came close to tangling with an older dragon, once. That was across the sea. Apparently they are not quite as aggressive over there, but the one I saw was plenty aggressive with the stag he'd caught. I did not linger to test the theory."

Jovan nodded. "We put down a few dragons about three years ago. Sent four men back to the capital with nasty burns. I doubt they will ever be fit for work out here again. I hope you do not come across any dragons in your travels; two men unarmed and far from help would not come out the better in such a fight."

Raban suspected, from the carefully told tale Clovis had related to Tula and Kay, that he had a fairly skilled dragon slayer for a friend, but did not voice the thought. Likely, mentioning it would discomfit Clovis. Instead he just stole a long look at Jovan, jerking his gaze away when pale eyes turned his way.

Clovis yawned. "I beg your pardon, Captain, but I think I will seek a bed for the evening."

"You can head back to the barracks if you like," Jovan offered. "Plenty of room there, I've got men a field who won't be back for days yet. Certain you don't want to stay and drink awhile?"

"I'm certain. Even for me, the past few days have been all the excitement I need. That fight with Tandem didn't help me recover from the tavern fight even a little bit."

Jovan choked on his ale. "I sense I'm going to be hearing an interesting report in the morning."

"They kicked us out," Raban said cheerfully. "All my travels, I never managed that. He did it in a matter of hours. A thing of beauty, I say."

Clovis rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He stood slowly, then pushed his chair back in.

Raban felt a brief, sharp kick to his leg, but ignored it. Likely Clovis wanted him to fess up or some such. That would be wisest…if he were anything except the Crown Prince. What was there to say? Yes, he was a coward. Yes, he'd been gone fifteen years. Yes, he was sorry. What good was all that? What he'd done could not be undone, and his behavior rendered him anything but fit to reassume the role he had so recklessly abandoned.

How strange that the thing he most wanted in the world was what he'd run from…and so had no right to reclaim.

"You are getting lost in your thoughts again," Jovan teased, nudging Raban's foot with the toe of his boot. "What troubles you so much?"

"Nothing I would be so rude as to bore you with," Raban said, forcing the thoughts to the back of his mind. They were his problem, he should not dwell upon them when he was being so well-treated by a man who could have locked them up for assaulting a royal soldier. "Thank you, Captain. You've been far more than generous with us."

Jovan smiled and picked up his tankard. "Well, I confess I'm not being entirely altruistic. I was hoping to figure out why you look so damned familiar." His smile turned into a bit of a smirk. "That aside, I was willing to settle for simply finding out how you looked in my bed."

Raban laughed in surprise and pleasure. "Bold."

Shrugging, Jovan set down his tankard and relaxed back in his seat. "If you were going to be around for several days, I would more than happily use more subtle tactics. You are leaving tomorrow, however, and I find I do not want to be stuck wondering 'what if?'."

"How did you know I might say yes?" Raban asked. "I haven't been that bold." He'd been tempted.

"I wasn't entirely certain, but I was willing to take the chance. You did not strike me as the type to take offense, regardless." He leaned forward, pale eyes sharp and clear even in the weak light. "So what is your answer?"

Raban picked up his tankard and tipped it back, draining the contents. This was the height of stupidity, the sort of thing he'd thought he'd finally outgrown. Maybe he was just refusing to admit his stupidity only worsened with age. After all, surely only a fool would return to a home that no longer had a place for him.

Setting the tankard down hard, he stood up. "Let us go see how I look in your bed, Captain."

"I think, under the circumstances, that you can drop the formality." Jovan stood and calmly led the way from the tavern and down the street.

Back at the barracks, he avoided the main door to circle around to the back, where Raban saw a smaller cabin was set at the far end of the practice yard. Hmm, it might be worth it to stay an extra day or two to allow Clovis to get in some good sword practice. Perhaps he'd mention it later.

They were barely inside Jovan's small cabin when Raban found himself yanked forward and pressed against a broad, hard chest. A hot mouth covered his, rough and sure, tasting of venison and ale.

He moaned, the sensation burning straight through him. It had definitely been too long since he'd had any attention but his own for such things. Digging his fingers into Jovan's well-muscled shoulders, he kissed back with all the frustration and confusion that had built up inside since reaching the shores of his homeland.

Then they were moving, fumbling in the dark, and he was abruptly released, pushed down onto what proved to be a bed. He heard and faintly saw, from weak light spilling in a single small window, as Jovan moved about the room. Then light flared, a lantern light, and he enjoyed the sight of Jovan slowly stalking back toward him.

As Jovan reached him, Raban drew him down for another of those rough, hot kisses, deciding that he'd have to make the present so entertaining that Jovan would lose any interest in digging up old memories.