Alastar’s body glistened with sweat as he hammered the large drum with two equally large sticks. The smaller prince trying his best to mirror his movements. The man had the proper spirit, that was for certain, but he lacked the size and strength to bring the full sound from the drums.
Not surprising, and not something Alastar would hold against him. The drums were made for his people, not Wulfram’s. And Alastar was certain now that there were at least some rumors in Cresenvasht that the people of Hesiodos weren’t fully human. He grinned wolfishly, slamming his sticks against the drum to send the sound of thunder echoing through the valley, a final crescendo before the music ended.
Wulfram was breathing heavily, his shirt discarded along with Alastar’s. The prince might be smaller than the usual Hesiodos warrior, but he was still getting looks from the women. Alastar chuckled and let his sticks fall to the ground. “You kept up well.”
“Thank you.” Wulfram ran a hand through his hair, slick with sweat. He was breathing heavily, but the light of battle shone in his eyes. The drums had been good for him, they worked to awaken the warrior spirit. While the more mellow strings and pipes that Wulfram’s people had brought awakened other things as they kicked up, filling the silence left by the drums.
“No thanks are needed. I only speak the truth. How is your side?” Alastar nodded at the fresh scar on Wulfram’s torso. It looked like the prince had been stabbed through by something, the edges more jagged than he would expect from a sword.
Wulfram’s hand moved to the scar, and he let out a weary chuckle. “It’s fine. Sore,” He admitted. “But fine.”
“Do you have a tale to go with it? All the best scars have tales.” Alastar fell into step beside the smaller man as they headed to the edge of the circle, where liquor and fresh meat awaited them. Aysia watched them approach, a large pitcher in her hands. Alastar suspected that the Cresenvasht prince would assume she was just here to serve them, but Alastar wanted to learn her opinion on the prince. Idun, his newest wife from the Nemersh clan was here for similar reasons. Nemersh was a trade clan though, and her duties would be to see what agreements they might be able to make for future trade. Things could not continue how they were.
Wulfram laughed, taking one of the tankards that Idun held, letting Aysia fill it before taking a healthy drink. A sign of trust. “Isn’t there always a story to go with our scars? Some more embarrassing than others.”
Alastar smiled and nodded, taking his own tankard. He drained it nearly as soon as Aysia filled it, and held it out for more. “Sometimes those are the best stories. Tell me your embarrassing tale and I will tell you one of mine.”
It would be interesting to see what the prince considered embarrassing. Alastar dropped into a sturdy chair covered in furs. He watched Wulfram settle into a matching one. Alastar was near enough to Wulfram’s age that he shouldn’t see him as a youth, but he couldn’t help thinking of the prince as a boy. His spies had claimed he had seen some small skirmishes, and had defeated a few bands of bandits on his journey west. But that hardly made him a warrior. He needed to know more about the man before he could properly judge him. Especially if they were still going to wed Alastar’s sister to him.
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If they could find her. The seeker spell had been saying strange things, things he didn’t entirely trust.
“Alright.” Wulfram lounged back in the furs gratefully. Although he didn’t fully relax, a sign in his favor. They were not quite allies, not yet. “The story starts with a gutsy little thief, who has the most beautiful blue eyes.”
Alastar’s eyebrows raised, and he let out a chuckle. The marriage between his lost sister and the prince might have more snags in it than he had anticipated. But he knew that no matter how much the people of Cresenvasht said they were monogamous, many had lovers outside their marriages. “Beautiful blue eyes, is it?”
Wulfram’s cheeks turned red, and Alastar had to fight not to laugh. The prince was embarrassed already! Poor lad.
“Yes. Don’t tell me you don’t see the beauty of the women around you? Especially when they’re brave.” Wulfram gestured to Alastar’s wives. Aysia lowered her eyes, her own blush appearing.
Idun merely raised an eyebrow.
“I admire the beauty of many women.” Alastar grinned, and couldn’t quite resist letting his gaze stray over Wulfram. “And some men.” Really it was just too easy to make the prince squirm!
Wulfram froze, stiffening more a moment, his smile frozen on his face. “I see. But you wanted to hear my story, did you not?”
Alastar hid his grin behind his tankard, lounging back once more. “Of course, of course. Go on and tell us about your thief with the beautiful eyes.” With his reaction it couldn’t be a male thief. A woman thief though? Even in Hesiodos a woman thief was a rare sight, most women had other skills they could depend on for money.
“This thief made the mistake of trying to steal my crown, right in the middle of my mothers parade! Crawled up onto a trellis stretched across the road, and snatched it right off my head.”
Wulfram’s posture relaxed slowly as he told the tale of the beautiful and brave thief who had stolen his crown and led him on a merry chase across the roofs of Aurum, the golden city and into the depths below. Even Trade City had basements and tunnels beneath it, but from what Alastar’s spies claimed Aurum’s depths were as complex as the city itself, stretching from the docks to the cliff that circled half the city.
Alastar leaned forward as Wulfram touched on the tomb he believed to belong to the Seagraes people. The people of the sea, the first to bond with dragons, heart and soul. Back then it was rare for dragons to give up their natural forms to be with a human.
Now it was a matter of survival for all but the strongest of dragons.
“The historians are excited about the tomb of course, and it is a fascinating piece of history for our people. But at the time we needed to get out of there. Luckily they had been looking for me. They found us, the healers saw to us both, and the thief disappeared into the city.” Wulfram smiled, looking down at the bracelet that circled one of his wrists. “Of course I found her again. You’ll get to meet her, if you accept our invitation to the ball in three weeks.”
“A ball?” Alastar snorted, thinking of the descriptions of balls he had heard. Stuffy events with slow music and dancing.
“Of course he will attend.” Alastar’s head snapped up as Aysia spoke, her voice soft and sure.
“I will, will I?” He growled, meeting those calm grey eyes. His wives were meant to advise him, not decide for him.
“It is only what I have Seen, my King. You will be there, as will your sister.” There was such sincerity in Aysia’s voice that it gave Alastar pause. But then she continued and he froze. “As will the one who caused your Mothers death.”