Dralan [On Hold]

Twenty-Five

[Cover made by @-pureblood !!! I love it so much omg ❤️❤️❤️]

Byhron

Back at the Dralan's castle, Byhron remained as one of the Lathras who didn't accompany the Dralan on his big journey to the southwest. It had bothered him to not get picked, especially after hearing how his sister was joining them. He had even tried volunteering, but the Dralan's personal Kathmir - the male in charge of selecting the Lathras accompanying the Dralan - had given him a terminal no. Why the Kathmir didn't like him or didn't want him going along with his sister, Byhron couldn't tell. All that he knew was that the Kathmir told him he had to stay behind and run his patrols with the others who were also staying.

And even as much as it angered him, Byhron did as he was commanded. He had patrolled the towns and villages and kept and eye out for Mihr hunters. Each night, he had come home with blood on his hands.

All except last night. It was unusual. Byhron had a very aggressive approach when it came to hunting out the Mihr hunters, but last night, not a hunter had been a sight. It was as if they had all vanished or gone some place else. The streets were empty for once - safe.

He didn't like it. Something seemed fishy. If the Mihr hunters were gone, it meant that Phlague had ordered them to vanish, most likely because he had come up with a new plan. And how coincidental was it that the very week the Dralan left the castle with his Mihrisa, was the same week Phlague chose to do it?

Yeah, Byhron definitely thought something was way off. Now more than ever did he want to be close to his sister where he could protect her. She had been through enough, she couldn't go through it again. In the midst of a war, nobody gave a rat's ass about a lowly Kischmir, caught in the crosshairs of the battlefield. And the road to Amaschar was dangerous. Byhron swore that if anything happened to her while she was away, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. It would make it two times in his life that he had not been there when she needed him. And he couldn't live with the guilt.

All these thoughts were what plagued Byhron as he came back to the armory that night, after a whole day patrolling the city. While he hadn't found any Mihr hunters, he had stopped a couple of thieves, one of which managed to graze him in the side with a dagger. The wound had dried up by now, but it stung like a bitch. As he peeled off his body armor and pulled up his tunic beneath, he inspected the wound on his right ribcage. Luckily, it didn't seem too deep. Only a shallow cut that would be healed in a few days, if he nourished properly.

So of course he didn't. The pain was his only punishment for his failures as a brother. His sister had gone through much worse, so this was hardly anything. He could live with a stinging wound for a small week.

Pulling down his tunic again, Byhron stood up just as the doors to the armory opened. Carrying a large pile of polished boots, the last person he wanted to see came into the armory. Clearly, he didn't expect to find Byhron there as well. He stopped up and glared at him in shock.

"I thought you weren't allowed to leave the kitchen," Byhron snarled at Ahrron when the male didn't move. Why out of all the Kathmirs there did it have to be him?

The Kathmir cleared his throat and slowly unloaded all the boots onto the bench besides him. "With all the Kathmirs joining the Dralan on his trip, we've been short-staffed. The head Kathmir assigned me boot-polishing duty for the Lathras which I could do while inside the kitchen - with the exception that I could leave to bring them back. Just call me lucky."

Byhron scoffed. Polishing boots. Why didn't they just cut off his cock and be done with it? By now the male's pride had to be the same size as a pea.