They exit the castle gates and walk heavy-footed through the city. Arthur’s pace quickens as if trying to place as much distance as possible between them and the castle. Amalya tries to keep up with him. She reaches out for his arm, “Arthur…slow down!” He does not seem to hear her. Amalya quickly lunges forward and pulls at his sheathed sword lying across his back. He lurches back. Amalya looks into his very angry face, “What’s going to happen?” Arthur did not want to look at her. ‘Ser Donnik, he knows.’

The moment he laid eyes on Amalya it was plain as day. There was no hiding it. Father never mentioned he had a third child. It was a mistake to come here; what a fool he was to think this would help them! How was Arthur to know his father had never spoken of Amalya? The idea never crossed his mind. Of course, he would not say anything. The less the Guard knew of her existence the better. He was protecting her and now…now they were in more danger than before. They had to leave the city as quickly as possible. “He takes us for fools to believe such nonsense.”

Arthur stops speaking and looks around. His eyes grow suspicious of the bustling citizens around them. He lowers his head closer towards her, “Not here…let’s go.” He grabs her arm and leads her away towards the inner city. Their eyes look around, scanning the buildings as they pass. The streets are considerably less crowded than they were when they first arrived.

Arthur looks towards her right and spots a rather common looking Inn. Here points towards it and stops, forcing Amalya to wheel around and face him, “There.” They walk towards the Inn, climbing its small staircase up to the door. The Inn is almost completely deserted apart from a few men stationed at various tables. Serving wenches made their rounds tending to their nightly guests.

A rather large friendly woman approaches them with a round face and common garb, “Welcome to the Rabbit Hole, may I interest you in some accommodations?” Arthur looks around the dining hall before addressing her question, “Just a room for the night please, 2 beds and a warm meal.” The woman smiles and points them towards a large book sitting on a small table beside her, “Just sign your name dearie and we’ll fix you up something to eat.” Arthur quickly jots his name down on the book. “I’ll show you to your room. Dinner will be served within the hour until moonrise.” 

They follow the jolly woman up the stairs to the second floor. She leads them to the farthest room from the stairs and opens the door. It was small but comfortable. The beds sit across from one another with a rather large chest between them. A small wash basin sits in the farthest corner along with a small bench and a foot stool. The woman ushers them into the room, “Do take your time to freshen up before dinner. “ Arthur nods in acknowledgment. Arthur fishes through his belongings and pulls out the amount with a few extra pence and hands them to the woman. She smiles and leaves the room merrily shaking her hands, now filled with coin. Arthur closes the door before throwing his belongings on one of the beds. He unsheathes his sword and places it against the wall.

Amalya takes off her cloak and sighs, “Are we really going to stay the night here?”

"No.” He stands by the one window facing the street. His eyes scan carefully along the street, looking out for anyone suspicious. Amalya watches him, hoping he will enlighten her soon of their plan. She rolls her head back and breathes deeply, “What’s the plan?”

“Ser Donnik was trying to mislead us.”

“When did you write up that fake letter?”

“Before I left to go after you. I replaced the seal from the original after you were asleep the night before.” He moves from the window and sits on the small bench. Amalya adjusts herself on the bed, “That was a good plan.”

“Not good enough…”

“Why would he try to thwart our intentions? Why does he want us to think otherwise of Father deserting the Guard?”

“I do not know…he is hiding something…”

“He wanted the letter; he was hoping to learn of Father’s destination.”

“That was for certain.” He shifts in his seat and leans against the wall of the room. Silence consumes the air around them. She was more alert of their situation. It would not be an easy feat, Ser Donnik made that as clear as the morning sunrise. Arthur leans forward and places his hand on his forehead, “He still does not have a location to start, that much is certain.” Arthur sits up with a smirk on his face, “We may still have the upper hand if we act quickly.”

“We cannot linger here. The longer we wait for the more dangerous it will be.”

“We cannot do this without help.”

“Who?”

“If I knew that we wouldn’t be sitting here wasting time.”

Amalya swings her legs over the bed. She stares at the floor, hoping that somewhere amongst the various darkened cracks of the wood and answer will make itself known to her. If only it were that easy, but nothing ever is. “We’re coming for you Father, We’re coming for you.” Arthur sits up and walks across the room. He takes a seat on the bed across from Amalya and looks at her, “A nice warm meal will do us good.” He manages a smile as she looks up towards him, “It will be a nice change from our scrapings of dried fish and bread.” His smiles widen as he stands up, “That’s the spirit.”

He extends his hand out towards her. She places her hand in his and stands next to him. She smiles at him, “Shall we then?” The two make their way towards the door and hopefully towards the answer they are so desperately seeking. The inn was bustling for the dinner hour. Most of the tables were full of guests and those who just came for the food. The air smells of delicious roast pork and sweet cider. Amalya could not wait to sit down and sink her teeth into a nice warm meal.

The two siblings find a table not too far from the stairs. They take a seat and area almost immediately greeted by a rather small but busty wench. She gives Arthur a cheeky smile and leans in towards him, “ An ale for you then?” Arthur nods his head, trying to avert his eyes from her rather busting blouse. She looks over at Amalya, “And for your woman here.”

“I’m his sister…some cider please.”

The wench backs away to get their drinks. “Nicely handled their Amalya.”

“ I will not be associated with ‘your woman’, that much should be made clear.”

“Relax, one should not assume such things. We look alike enough don’t we?”

Amalya fixed her hood and sits up straight. She pulls it off her head, revealing her long braided hair. Arthur looks at her cautiously, “You really think you should be doing that here?”

“The light is so dim in here. Besides I need to breathe a bit. It gets hot under that hood all day.” Arthur does not object and sits back in his chair. He scans the dining hall watching the other visitors as they eat, drink and merrily enjoy the night. “I have no doubt he has sent someone to follow us.”

“You think so?” “He wants to be sure we are properly outwitted. He will send someone to watch our every move until we arrive back in Rau.”

The serving wench returns with their drinks, “Food is on its way.” She turns to leave when she stops suddenly at the sight of Amalya. Her eyes stay on her features. Amalya looks around a bit uncomfortably. The girl averts her gaze for a moment before glancing again at her.

Amalya lowers her head, “Thank you…” Immediately the girl shakes her head and walks away. Arthur gives his sister a rather odd look, “She was falling in love with you for a moment.”

“She was staring at me just like Lancel…” The thought of Lancel gives her the chills. It was an unfortunate confrontation but Amalya hoped that she would never see that look in another person’s eyes ever again. Arthur takes a long swig at his mug of ale.

He swallow’s loudly before clearing his throat; “Maybe you should rethink your disguise then.” Amalya pulls her hood back over her head and leans against the table. Although she always hated having to shield herself from the world, it was the only way she has ever felt completely safe. A loud noise tumbles to their ears. The two look across the hall towards the bar where a small scuffle has begun. A rather drunken man stumbles onto the floor, pulling an axe from his side. He looks completely red faced in his emaciated state. His adversary, a very tall angry looking man, seems to be ready for the worst. The axe-wielding lunatic strikes forward and is rather quick on his feet for a man in his condition. His weapon is caught by the giant and is soon flipped over onto a neighboring table. He pulls a sword from his belt and swings down towards the table. The drunken man rolls off and swings for his legs, making swift contact. The giant falls like a tree to the floor. Other men begin to interfere as the drunkard sluggishly tries to ward them off.

 Amalya stares at the belligerent drunk as he fights off his attempted rescuers. He looks very familiar in an odd sort of way. Suddenly it hits her, “Arthur…” He looks up towards her, “What is it?” “That’s the man from last night…the one who wandered into our camp.” Arthur looks back at the squabbling rabble of men, trying to get a good look at the bloke Amalya was referring to. He sits up straight, adjusting his gaze, “It sure looks like he doesn’t it.” The wench returns with a plate of rather delicious looking food. She places it on the table in front of them. Arthur looks up at her, “Do you know that man over there?” She turns rather casually and peers over at the fighting mob, “Which one ya’ referring to sweetie.”

“The man with the axes.” Amalya blandly imposes onto the conversation. The wrench turns towards Arthur and leans down to face him, “It’s gonna cost ya’.” Arthur gives her a rather callous stare and fishes through his pockets. He pulls out one gold coin and places it in her extended hand. She smiles at him, tucking the coin between her breasts, “That’s Ren, he comes hea’ practically every night.”

“Does he live around here?”

She shrugs, “Don’t know. Says he travels but he’s always there. Used to be a dragon slayer he was…” “A dragon slayer? Called Ren?”

“Ser Rendell the Wretched.” The three look up and notice a rather old wrinkly man leaning in on their conversation. He looks old and decrepit but his eyes show no sign of treachery.

Amalya leans in towards the man, “Rendell the Wretched?”

“Aye. He was the most famous dragon slayer in his youth. He could kill 100 dragons in a day it’s said…but that’s all fairy tale nonsense."

 The wench nods her head and walks away from the table. Arthur’s eyes grow large as the old man continues to speak, “He has killed more dragons than any dragon slayer alive today…even more than the Kings toy soldiers, he has there.”

Amalya looks back towards the fighting men. Ser Rendell is slowly being carted out of the inn, his arms flailing wildly in an attempt to escape. Amalya looks back at the old man, “He was a dragon slayer? That drunk lout?”

The old man nods his head, “That he was…before they were outlawed. He did a dastardly thing he did; betrayed The Lord of Padure.”

“How did he do that?”

Arthur turns towards Amalya, “ Tis said he accepted payment to slay a dragon and never fulfilled his end of the bargain,” He turns back towards the man, “Many people died because of his lust for gold. He’s been an outlaw ever since.”

The old man nods his head and smiles, “Aye but I tell you one thing…there’s a reason he stole that money.

One may never know.” “He’s a well-traveled man who I’m sure is desperate for work…”

Amalya gives her brother a horrid look, “You can’t be thinking…” “He may be the only one willing to help us.”

“He’s a drunk! He tried to kill me!” “More reason for him to redeem himself!”

“We could never trust him! There has to be someone else.”

“I’m sure there is, but we’re desperate Amalya. We cannot linger here long without Ser Donnik growing suspicious of us.”

She stares at his hopeful expression. Her heart races, as her face grows red with anger. She looks up and notices that the men have successfully expelled Ser Rendell from the inn. She takes a breath and closes her eyes, forcing the words from her mouth, “Your right…you’re right.” Arthur springs from his seat and heads towards the door. Amalya sighs and slowly rolls the food around on her plate. The old man watches her intently, “He is a noble man Ser Rendell.”

“Noble? What is so noble about him?”

“One does not simply throw away his success for a few lousy coin my child…” She looks at the old man who a smile warmly, “There is more to him than what is told.”

Arthur walks out into the fresh night air. It does not take him long to see the staggering dragon slayer meandering off into the darkness. Arthur watches him for a moment, trying to decide if this was still a good idea. What choice did he have? They needed someone to help them get to Jar and quickly. This city was not safe for them any longer. He did not have all night to weed through potential candidates. Forming a regretful sigh he approaches him cautiously. Even though he meant no harm, it was not a good idea to sneak up on someone who had a stomach full of ale. Rendell leads into a mounting post and lets a few bubbles loose from his gut. Arthur takes a step towards him, “Ser Rendall…” Faster than a cat on a mouse, Rendall brandishes an axe to his nose. Arthur stops and looks at the finely ground blade, smooth and shining in the firelight.

“Who’er you to call me by the’ name?” his feet stagger to keep himself standing. He leans over to the side to rest on the post, still keeping his arm raised ready to strike. Arthur watches his slurred bearded face.

He waits patiently for the dragon slayer to grow tired or uncoordinated enough to drop his arm, but he does not let his words linger, “I apologize, Ren is it?”

Ren’s arm drops like a heavy stone. His eyes roll around his head as he relies on the full support of the post to keep his posture, “Aye, what’d you want?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Huh,” Ren wipes his nose with his arm, “Yer imagine this is the best time…” 

“I can see no better time than now.”

“Smart boy. Whada want then?” Ren leans forward as if to fall. 

Arthur quickly catches him up, leaning him against the post. He slowly slides down the mount, grunting as his body reaches the ground. Arthur bends down to meet him. He leaves him a few moments to recompose himself before laying out his terms, “I am looking for a guide. One who knows the fastest way to Jar.” Ren closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He sits silently for while without making a sound.Arthur was sure he had fallen asleep. He reaches out to stir him back to consciousness. Before he can touch him the dragon slayer opens his eyes.

He looks around a bit confused but not entirely unknowing, “What makes yer think I’ll agree to this little job of yers?”

“Aside from the promise of gold, I have not thought that far ahead.” Ren laughs, “You in trouble then?”

“We need to leave the city…tonight.”

“I’d don’t want no part in other peoples business.”

He slowly stands up with unsteady legs, “especially when it comes to trouble.”

Arthur rises to meet him, “I find that hard to believe considering you were just dragged out of the bar by your arms and legs.” 

Ren cracks a smile, “Huh…think yer smarter than me do ya?” “I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t need ta say it, boy,” he looks him square in the face. His breath reeks of stale ale and mulled wine. Ren sniffs loudly, “Why would I help ya?” Arthur holds his breath and grits his teeth, “It would not appear you have anything better to do.”

Silence falls between them. Arthur wasn’t sure how his rudeness would be interpreted. He had no time to squabble with this man. Therefore the sooner he was done with this interaction the better, whether or not he agreed to take on the job. A hearty rumble makes its way from the dragon slayers chest into his throat. He smiles as snickering laughter sifts through his teeth like a freshly forged sword to water. He wraps Arthur clumsily on the back with a heavy hand, “Yer right about that boy.”

As quickly as the lightheartedness began it was over. Ren curls his lips into a scowl and turns away, shuffling off. Arthur turns to him, not bothering to follow, “Meet me a mile from the west gate in an hour!” Ren lifts his hand and waves him off as he makes his way down the street. Arthur sighs deeply. ‘Please do not let me regret this.’

Next Chapter: Chapter 11: The Dragon Slayer