Regal |Fantasy Ryden AU| DISCONTINUED

-9-

The prince of Asturias awoke with a great crick in his back.  His muscles ached with every little move he made, and for a fleeting moment, panic began to wash over him.  He didn't know where he was.  Frantically, he wondered why he wasn't greeted with the lavish colors and atmosphere of his own bedroom and why he had opened his eyes to the dim lighting of torches and the scratchy fabric of fur sheets.

Then the memories of the past day came flooding back, and he crawled out of the old rickety bed in the worst mood he'd ever been in.

The smell of stale mead permeated the warm air around him, stinging his nostrils and fueling the migraine beginning to settle in his head.  The Dragonheart Inn was just as much of a madman's house as it had been the night before, and the mere thought of going downstairs and seeing those drunken fools was enough to spark the frustration burning in his heart.

He was starting to think that this whole task was only going to be a giant waste of his precious time.

Regardless, he knew they had to keep moving, otherwise the Fates would undoubtedly find a way to punish him for his misdeeds.  Grumbling to himself and nearly tripping over the broken stone floor, he grabbed his cloak and slung it over his sore shoulders.  Then, with a heavy sigh of aggravation, he opened the rusty door and marched down the old steps.  He'd never wanted to leave a building more than he did at that moment.

The first thing he noticed about the strangely quiet tavern was the fact that the two bards were passed out on top of one another, loud snores rumbling in their throats and their instruments crushed beneath them.  Even the frightening warhammer men were slouched over the tables, crusted drool at the corners of their mouths.  The air reeked of mead and drunken slumber, but overall, it was blissfully silent; Brendon couldn't have been more grateful for that after the previous night's pandemonium.

Sucking in a deep breath, he spotted Spencer standing near one of the empty tables, his pack slung over his shoulder and his eyes dark with exhaustion.  Still, when he noticed the prince approaching, he brightened his expression and put on the most encouraging smile he could, regardless of the unrestful night they had.

"Good morning, Your Highness!"  he greeted.  "I do hope you enjoyed your evening.  Personally, I could barely keep my eyes shut, but I promise you, it will not affect my attitude on this important journey of yours.  We have another eventful day ahead, and I'm eager to get started!"

"At least one of us is, my dear Smith,"  Brendon said with a sigh.  His arms crossed over his chest, he glanced around the quiet tavern, taking in the atmosphere it radiated during the day.  Faint sunlight pooled in from a tiny window behind the bar counter, the only light in the room.  The torches on the stone walls were extinguished, leaving nothing but pale embers in its wake.  It was unnaturally quiet during the daytime, perhaps even serene, but without a doubt, Brendon knew that it would only get more and more rambunctious as the sun continued to travel across the sky.  Soon, it would be the madman's house he knew and despised all over again, and it gave him peace to know that he'd be far away when that happened.

The sound of crunching and chewing snapped him out of his thoughts, and, revolted, he turned to see Jon sauntering toward them, munching on an entire loaf of bread and a slice of cheese.  He didn't even appear to be bothered when the prince and the royal adviser stared at him with wide, distasteful eyes.

"What?"  he asked, his mouth full of bread.  "I'm hungry.  Can't a guy eat in peace around here?"

"You're an animal, Walker,"  Brendon spat, rolling his eyes in disgust.  He couldn't believe the mage sometimes.

"Hey,"  Jon went on, pausing to swallow the mound of bread in his mouth.  "I happen to take that as a compliment.  Humans are technically animals, too."