Wet grime trickled into his soft leather boots, soaking Sarien’s feet, as he slowly made his way through the stall, careful not to get too close to the horse. The horse snuffled, looked at Sarien blankly, and returned to sleep. He let out an exhale. This one liked to bite.

Sarien pulled on his foot and it came away from the muck with a sucking sound that sent a shudder of disgust down his spine. At least this time, his boot didn’t come off. “Why do we have to get up before first light to muck out the horse crap?” he muttered, reaching over the low wooden divider to grab a shovel.

Ben laughed from one of the other stalls. “The noble Karm family might step in some dung during their morning ride if we didn’t!”

“What are you so happy about?” Sarien grumbled. Ben hung a tiny lantern on a pillar in the middle of the stables. The light cast a small glow that fell short of the shadows lining the stable walls.

In the stalls, the two young men moved blindly, cleaning out the stalls by touch and the familiarity of having performed the same chore every morning for years. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen helping out your mother, or at the mill? Anything would be better than this, no?”

The dull thud of manure hitting the wheelbarrow told Sarien that Ben was just about finished in his stall.

“I don’t mind the stables,” Ben said. “The horses are nice and the smell ain’t that bad, you know? Also, we get to work together! Perhaps your da will take me to train with you?”

“Well, yeah. I’m glad you’re here too,” Sarien admitted. “At least I’m not the only one smelling like dung all the time.” He heaved a shovel load of manure into the wheelbarrow. Most of it landed where it was supposed to. Sarien sighed. “But I’m not sure he’ll ever take me out hunting. Did you know he won’t even let me touch a bow?”

“Of course, I know. You keep whining about it. They let us ride sometimes, at least.”

Ben’s relentless optimism never failed to put Sarien in a better mood. The short young man went through life seeing the happy coincidences and enjoyed every little nugget of gold found in the horse crap that was their occupation. “Did you ask about riding today?”

One of the horses snorted, as if making fun of them. “I did,” Ben replied.

“And?”

The gangly young man turned to give Sarien his widest grin. “The stablemaster said we could as long as we don’t take Trillian’s or Hacha’s horses. Or your da’s. Imagine if we rode Talc’s horse, huh?”

“My father would skin us alive if we even tried to saddle his beast, much less ride it,” Sarien said, edging out of the stall to get away from that very horse. “So we can go when we’re done here?”

Ben nodded. “Sure. Your da won’t mind?”

“I’m sure he’s going off on some hunt, an errand for Karm, or something fun. Keeps saying he’s too busy to teach me anything.”

“Well, at least we get to ride,” Ben said. Ever the optimist.

“At least we get to ride,” Sarien agreed. His father always said he’d teach Sarien archery, tracking, and bushcraft once he was older and more experienced, whatever that meant, but it never happened.

At eighteen, Sarien was already considered a man by most, except his own father. He knew he lacked the knowledge and experience to become a proficient huntsmaster like his father and worried about what would happen when he eventually retired from the post. It didn’t make any sense why Talc avoided training his own son. Sarien gritted his teeth. It was a waste of time thinking about it. No matter how much he begged his father to train him, his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Sarien continued on to the next stall where a fresh pile of manure waited for him.

Soft morning sunlight streamed in through the stable windows when the two of them were nearly done. Just one more stall, then they’d wash up and head for the kitchen and get some breakfast from Ben’s mother, Lilian. She was the estate’s head cook and always made sure they got plenty to eat.

Sarien’s stomach growled as he entered the last stall, where the horse belonging to Trillian waited. He was the oldest child and only son of Hacha and was next in line to inherit the whole Karm estate and the title that went with it, and he lived to remind Sarien of that fact whenever he had the chance. He was, without a doubt, a royal pain in Sarien’s butt.

The stable door banged open. “Good morning!”

Sarien winced and glanced up. “Shit, he’s here, and he brought his friends.” The two boys glanced at each other, a silent message passing between them, before they hurriedly went to work.

Trillian’s three large friends chuckled. They all looked remarkably alike with their wide shoulders, strong arms, and dull expressions, but they weren’t brothers. Ola, the redhaired one with the wide nose, was the son of one of the lumberjacks and helped out in the forest cutting timber. Perti was a little taller than the other two and worked in the mill carrying sacks of grain around all day. Both Perti and Hein, the third of them, had light brown hair. Hein worked as a blacksmith’s apprentice and was squat with thick arms like tree-trunks.

All three were commoners but hung around Trillian, because he didn’t have any other nobles to socialize with. Sarien once overheard him beg Hacha to send him to Fyrie, the capital, so he could make proper friends, but Hacha refused.

“Just keep your head down,” Ben whispered. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“The two horse boys!” Trillian said, a sneer in his voice so obvious Sarien didn’t have to look up to see it on his face. “Saddle my horse for me, horse boys!”

Sarien clenched his jaw so hard that it began to ache. “The saddles are over there,” he said, pointing at the far wall while keeping his tone as even as possible. “I’m sure you know how it’s done.”

Ben gave him a quick wide-eyed look. “I’ll do it, hold on a moment.” He opened the stall and guided the horse out before running across the stable to fetch a saddle.

Trillian waited patiently, watching with a smug grin on his face, and then patted Ben on the shoulder when he was done. “That’s a good lad. At least one of you know how to respond to your betters.”

Ben’s face turned beet red but he said nothing. Trillian turned to his friends with the horse’s reins in his hand. “Let’s get out of here, the boys smell worse than the stables themselves!”

Manure flew through the air and splattered Trillian, covering the entire right side of his body. His face was smeared with crap and his fine clothes ruined.

Sarien looked from his shovel, to Trillian, and then back again in wonder. He hadn’t thought. He’d just done it. There would be hell to pay, but he squared his shoulders and said, “Don’t talk to Ben like that, or next time you’ll be eating it!”

Ben, Trillian, and his three very large friends stared at him in silent disbelief for a moment, then Trillian’s blank expression turned into pure rage.

“Oh shit,” was all Sarien had time to say before the four men jumped onto him, tumbling him to the floor, and flattened him face first into the muck.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Worth it,” Sarien mumbled as he stepped into the chilly water. The river started somewhere up in the mountains that separated their remote part of the kingdom of Eldsprak from the kingdom of Loft. He didn’t know much about the neighboring country other than how they used aeromancers, the wind mages, to sail their ships faster than any other kingdom’s. That speed meant they ruled over the oceans, though, nowadays it was mainly the merchants who enriched themselves with trade. No use for battleships in a time of peace that had lasted for hundreds of years.

Sarien sighed and dunked his head under water. They were far from such things here on the Karm estate and he wouldn’t ever likely see a ship in his lifetime.

“Was it? Really?” Ben asked when Sarien came up for air. He sat drying on a rock after having washed himself in a hurry.

Sarien winced. “Sorry, I didn’t think they would come after you too.”

“At least they didn’t beat me,” Ben said. “Just the horse poop.”

“So much poop,” Sarien agreed. Trillian was not prone to mercy at the best of times. He and his friends hadn’t been satisfied until Sarien was all but unconscious.

“How are the bruises?” Ben asked.

“They’ll heal,” Sarien said.

“Do you think they’ll still let us go riding?”

Sarien shook his head and water spattered from his short, light brown hair. “I don’t think so.” He swam to the edge of the river and pulled his clothes in with him. He scrubbed them vigorously. They’d need a good rinsing before he’d put them back on.

Ben ran a hand through his mop of brown hair. “What do you think your da will say?”

“Guess we’ll soon know,” Sarien said, pointing over Ben’s shoulder. Talc, his father, the huntsmaster, approached and he did not look pleased. Talc’s eyes made him look old beyond his years and the short-clipped dark beard only added to that image. With his impressive height and broad shoulders, the man could cut an imposing figure even if he looked a little thin.

“I think I’m going to go.” Ben hurriedly gathered his clothes and scampered off without waiting for a reply.

Talc walked up to the edge of the water and threw a bundle on the ground. “Get out of there, Sarien.” He sounded tired and exasperated, rather than angry. That was good, wasn’t it? On closer inspection, he looked a little disheveled, as if he’d been pulled out of bed to answer for Sarien’s actions.

Sarien pointed to the bundle. “What’s that?”

“Brought you some clothes. Heard yours might be a little dirty.”

“A little.” Sarien got out of the water and dressed without drying himself off. The warm air would take care of that soon enough. Late summer was turning into fall, but it was still warm enough in the middle of the morning. “You spoke to Hacha?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“And?”

“What do you expect? He isn’t happy that you humiliated his son.”

“You know how Trillian is! He made fun of us. Made fun of Ben!”

Talc sighed and sat down on the ground. “Hacha knows his son well. That’s why there won’t be any punishments. They could have you whipped for this, you know?”

“Whipped?” Sarien asked incredulously. “You’re joking? He started it!”

“He is a noble. You are not. But like I said, that won’t happen.”

Sarien narrowed his eyes. “This is your fault, you know? I should be out there with you hunting, not cleaning out the stables!”

Talc barked a laugh. “My fault? You’ve really showed that you’re mature enough to handle something more than mucking out the stalls today.” He sighed again. “What I’m trying to say is it’s important to pick your battles. You’re never going to beat Trillian at this game.”

“So, I should just not stand up for my friend? For myself?” Sarien was both taller and stronger than Trillian. Sure, most of that muscle came from shoveling crap, but he was pretty sure he could best the noble son in a one-to-one fight.

“You should always stand up for yourself. Just pick your fights and your moment. You and Trillian have been butting heads for nearly all of your lives. You should both know better. That’s why we’re sending the two of you on a task. Both Hacha and I hope that this will bring the two of you closer together.”

Sarien perked up. “A task?” He frowned. “With Trillian?”

“Don’t mess up this chance,” Talc admonished. “You don’t know how uncommon it is to have a house ruled by a noble who doesn’t just trample on the commoners in his employ. This is your chance to prove that you can rise above the petty squabbles and show that you’re ready for something other than the stables.“

“So, what's the task?” Sarien asked.

His father grinned. "I knew you’d be interested." His smile faded away. "We’ve had word from a nearby village, Kalstram. Some people went missing. A few were found dead, their bodies torn apart by large claws. The rest of the villagers have run off, refusing to return unless Hacha sends some people to investigate. We thought it would be a good test for you and Trillian, to make sure you can work together. If you’re to become huntsmaster in the future, you and he will need to put your differences aside."

"People disappeared and were killed?" Sarien fidgeted with his dirty clothes. "Are you coming?"

"No," Talc said. "I have some other issues that I need to deal with. This is probably nothing more than a bear who wandered too close to the village. We will send a few soldiers with you and Trillian, so there should be no issue. You can handle this, right?”

Sarien stood. “Of course! I’ll make you proud, father. What about Ben?”

“I talked to Griswold. He has agreed to let you take out the horses. Ben can accompany you. Just be careful.”

Sarien nodded vigorously. “We’ll be careful. So, what are we supposed to do? Find the bear and kill it?”

“Scare it off, if possible. If not, you have our permission to kill it. Bears can be quite strong and fast, so you better be ready for a fight. Trillian will take the lead so you will have to learn how to swallow your pride and take orders from him. He'll make sure you get proper weapons. Something easy to use, since you have no experience. Can you follow him in this?”

"Fine. I’ll do what he says. Where are you going?"

“Nowhere in particular, I’m just a very busy man. You better hurry. The others are already getting ready to leave.”

“I’ll be off then, father. Don't wait up!"

The others were indeed ready to leave when Sarien returned to the estate. Ben sat quietly on a horse and waited apart from Trillian, three of his friends, and a young woman Sarien hadn't seen before.

Trillian greeted him with a sneer. "So, you're finally here. My father said you have to follow my commands, so you better do as I say. Do you understand?"

Sarien lowered his eyes. ”I understand." He glanced around. “Where are the soldiers? My father said we would have an escort.”

Trillian barked a short laugh, his friends joining in. "We don't need soldiers. My companions here will be enough, of course." He turned to the young woman and his voice grew even more arrogant. "You don't have to worry about your safety, dear. I will take care of you. I apologize for these two ruffians but I'm afraid my father did not leave me much choice in the matter."

She shrugged and replied, "I don't mind. Just make sure whatever it is you're hunting does not come after me.”

"Of course. You're perfectly safe in my company." Trillian turned to address the group as Sarien mounted the lone riderless horse. "It's a bit less than an hour's ride to the village. We’ll follow the road for a while then turn off and cross the fields to shorten the journey. Once there, we’ll search the village and deal with whatever we find. Understand?”

Ben nudged his horse to close the distance between him and Sarien. "Do you think it's a monster? I bet it's a monster."

"I don't think there are any monsters in Eldsprak,” Sarien whispered back. "It's probably a bear, like my father said."

Ben shook his head. "I bet it's a monster."

Once they’d set out down the gravel path from the estate that would take them to the main road, Ben handed over a paper-wrapped packet to Sarien. "From my mom. The thought of you going without breakfast made her anxious. She said we couldn’t have that."

Sarien gratefully accepted and unwrapped the paper to find a bread roll stuffed with a thick slice of hard cheese and several strips of bacon. Sarien tore into it enthusiastically, relishing every bite. "She takes care of me like I’m your brother or something. Can't fault her for that, right?"

Ben shrugged. "I guess."

When he finished, Sarien tucked the paper into his pocket. “So, what about weapons?" Sarien called out so his question would carry over to Trillian who rode some distance ahead.

Trillian ignored him, but Ben answered, “There is a weapon cache near the village. We are going to stop there, according to Trillian.”

"I hope he’s not lying," Sarien said. "They are all carrying swords. What are we supposed to use?”

"Spears, if they have any?" Ben said. "I won’t mind some distance between us and whatever we are supposed to fight.”

Sarien shook his head. "A spear would be fine. I wish I knew how to shoot a bow, that would be even better."

A little while later, they turned away from the road and started across a field of grass dotted by large boulders. Just as Ben said, they eventually made it to a cabin. Deer horns were affixed above the door and when Sarien peeked through a gap in the shuttered windows, he saw pelts and skins on the floor and walls.

“What is this place?” he asked.

Trillian sighed and gestured to a small shack right next to the house. “My father said you’d find weapons in there. This place is used by the village’s hunters, apparently. Now hurry it up, I want this done before sundown.”

Ben dismounted and hurried over to the shack. He opened the door then turned back. “There are only staves in here.”

“So, take a stave,” Trillian said. “We four have steel enough to deal with whatever animal is terrorizing the villagers.”

Sarien accepted one from Ben. “Maybe there are more weapons in the house?”

“No,” Trillian said. “My father told us to grab what we needed from the shack. That was it. Let’s go.”

“But we can’t fight with these,” Sarien protested.

“Are you going to argue and disobey me?” Trillian asked, his voice dangerous. “Good luck following in your father’s footsteps then.”

“Fine,” Sarien grumbled. “I’ll just beat the bear to death with a stick.”