The Winter Sun

Chapter 1

The shovel sank into the ground strewn straw and leaped up with its face full of a brown puddle. The man's nose scrunched up at the eye-stinging odor and threw it on a wooden wheelbarrow waiting patiently on his side. He repeated, again and again, the same movement until his pale forehead was beading with sweat and sticking his black strands. He wiped it swiftly with the back of his hand before his eyes fell on the culprit of this waste. "What did you eat last night, beauty?" The horse neighed excitedly in response as if pleading his case. The man huffed. "Remind me I shall never give that to you ever again," he threw without venom, mouth pulling on one side before his hand found the dark mane of the stallion in a forgiving caress. High-pitch chuckles rose outside of the barn, and he peered out of the stall window. A man with sandy blond hair leaned his hips against the façade of a rugged house, eyes staring into the soul of a young lady with cheeks darker than the dust of dawn. The icy wind could have been the culprit of that rosy shade, but for some reason, he knew it wasn't. The man leaned forward, and the woman's cheeks flushed even more. She was at the edge of combusting into fire.

The shovel sank back into the hay with a sigh. Typical. His hair were as wet as river when steps echoed behind him, stirring neighs from horses. Behind him stood, the young man with the sandy hair, lips curved by a grin that said more than any words. The shovel planted in the hay, standing by itself. "So for which shitty line did she fall for this time, Rid?" a dark as night eyebrow raised. "The beheading one or the horse one?"

"Why do you think so little of me Lach?" Rid replied, shock written on his features as he laid down on the pile of hay. "I didn't need that. My presence was magical enough to bewitch her." He drawled out, self-applauding himself silently. Lach paused, giving him an unimpressed stare before retrieving the shovel and continuing his work. "She did like the beheading one though," he let out and Lach rolled his eyes.

"Poor girl."

"However," he sat down and slipped a straw between his lips. "As charming as this young lady is, she is not what I am after. I can-"

"I know, you can do better than that," the line seemed to have slipped from his lips a hundred of times.

"Way better," the sandy blond grinned. "Foreigners are in town and they are way bigger fishes than I had expected."

Lach rubbed the dirty sleeve of his tunic on his forehead. "Foreigners?" A frown accentuated his question.

Rid sighed. "You really need to get out of this barn sometimes." Lach rolled his eyes. "Haven't you heard about the greatest event coming to Ornuv?" Lach stared at him blankly. "The Princess' ceremony." The sandy-blonde stated as if he should have been common knowledge and it should truthfully be but Lach had other matter in his mind than caring about the rich throwing parties. "The countries of the continent are all sending their best eligible bachelors in the hope of marrying the Princess."

Lach failed to understand Rid's interest in the matter. "Do you believe to be one of them?"

Rid huffed. "Well, no. But..." he raised a finger. "They are not coming alone. Some of them brought sisters and cousins," he winked, and Lach contemplated rolling his eyes. "I can already smell the full purses of gold hanging from their generous hips." He laid back down on the hay with a hand folded behind his neck, eyes wandering. "These are the fishes that I am willing to catch."

Lach nodded slowly. "After being stuck with you for four years. I am very doubtful of that."

Rid sat up, eyes wide with shock. "And that is not very nice of you to say. Aren't you supposed to be my friend?"

"I am your friend, but I am trying to protect these women from your reputation."

"And tell me, my Lach, what is my reputation?" Rid rested his chin between his palms.