[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Nivram falls silent as the pair walk in the tall grass next to the road where the dust thrown up by the passage of the caravan does not bother them any more. He's not thinking about his companion and the secrets he almost certainly holds. He's not even thinking about the fair maiden he had set out to save. Surprisingly, for he has consumed much alcohol, Nivram's thoughts are quite clear as he thinks of the one person he has ever cared about. Images of a past that once was. Hope for the future. The only hope.

Of course, for morose thoughts like these he has the perfect cure and more of the same in his pack. He takes another swig from the bottle and then starts whistling a marching tune.

The tune isn't a well-known one, like the ones used by many of the large armies of the lands, but to someone who has ever served in a military unit, it is clear that the tune is not one made for leisurely walks on beautiful autumn days. It is one made for marching in rank, for marching in war.

Once the tune is finished, Nivram falls silent, taking another long swallow from the rice wine.

“So, Nivram, where are you from?” Asikol inquired, though it seemed more for conversation's sake than anything else, “You've told me little of yourself, and I to you.”

"I do not pretend to know what women think. Whether she has feelings for me or not I do not know."

“Yet you are off on a quest to save her nonetheless. Admirable; I am sure it will impress her. Most women, or so I hear, are impressed by such acts of valour.”

"I do not pretend to know what women think. Whether she has feelings for me or not I do not know."

“Yet you are off on a quest to save her nonetheless. Admirable; I am sure it will impress her. Most women, or so I hear, are impressed by such acts of valour.”

"I'm too old to believe in tales of valiant knights galloping into a dragon's den to save the princess." Nivram bit back the next sentence, not wanting to elaborate on the chances one or two men had against a camp, full of bandits.

“Ah indeed, for nowadays, the dragons are men, are they not?” Asikol smiled drolly without mirth, “I suspect we shall encounter many 'dragons' along the way, and many other beasts, all in the form of man. Still, if we are to play the role of knights, it shall be them who is slain, not we.”

"A knight does not slay sixty dragons, the second or third kills the knight." Nivram's voice was even, as if death would mean nothing, if not something positive to him. "A thief in the night however...might go against your morals, but I think a thief could slip into the dragon's den and remove the princess."

“And an assassin,” His tone seemed to imply it was a step up, “Might poison the well of such a den, save the princess with the antitode and ride off into the night while the entire brood dies in agony.” He almost chuckled, “Out of the three, I wonder which would serve us best. None are without danger.”
"It would be a mistake to only consider those three possibilities."

“True,” Asikol acknowledged, dipping his head, “But were we not speaking of the great sagas of bards? After all,” his lips twitched, “This is purely hypothetical, is it not?”

"I guess we could also go in without a plan...sometimes it is the best way." Nivram grinned.

“Of course,” Asikol continuedly even more dryly than before, “to win the lady's hand, you could always challenge the lead dragon to a duel - with the princess as the spoils. Or perhaps, muster an army and charge in with the dawn. Fire the camp and ride in from the other side? The possibilites stretch on and on. Or, as you say, our 'unlikely heroes' could wander in with no plan at all and perhaps fumble through it. Who is to say what will work? After all, a plan is only as good as it's execution... and the outcome depends on many factors. Indeed, you could even become a 'dragon' yourself, enlist and then steal the crown jewel from the communal horde. Ah, the suspense builds!”

"And what about you? Where are you from?" The sudden change of subject was a psychological method Nivram had learnt from his sister's late husband. It had rarely worked.

"Ah, I am from a land far to the..." He glanced up at the sun, "North - East. Somewhere that direction," Waving his hand vaugely between the north and the east, he shrugged, “A far way away, I'm afraid.” Another droll smile, “The Captial, on that island in the lake - I'm from the other side of the lake to here, and then some. The food there is very different, and the land... far less... lawless. There is structure there, though it is not without it's problems. Alas, we too, suffer from banditry. Still, it is peaceful enough - depending on the feudal lord in charge. Some are ruthless, some are not. It matters little, for either way, sooner or later, they die and are replaced - either by age, disease, assassins or war. Such is the way of the world. But enough of my homeland; what would you know of me?”

Asikol did not seem perturbed by the sudden change in topic.

"Where do you know Isokla from?"

“Did I not tell you I heard tales of such a beauty within various local taverns?”

"I haven't destroyed all my memory through drink yet young man!" Nivram comically wagged his finger at Asikol. "I am not stupid either. It was not in a tavern that you first heard of her."

“Ah, I see I cannot fool you. Very well,” His eyes turned serious, “She killed my father.”

Nivram nodded. "I have to let you know that if you are in this for revenge you'd better turn back now, for if you try to harm her you'd better check beforehand that I'm not behind you." The tone was light, but the meaning of the words crystal clear.

He laughed, “Ah, had you going there for a moment, didn't I? You should have seen your expression...”

Nivram did not smile, neither did he reply. He just took another swallow from the rapidly dwindling liquid in the bottle held in his left hand.

“Twas one moonlit night, when the stars were bright within the sky... I was down by the river, whereupon I happened to chance upon such beauty as I had never seen. Later, I learnt her name; Isokla! Flower of the blue- and before I had realised, she held my heart captive in her hand.” He sighed wistfully, “If you must know... I have been searching her out, for any sign every since she vanished from home.”

Nivram turned to look at Asikol. "I haven't had enough to drink yet to be able to laugh at every joke you tell. Why don't you try telling me something that has an ounce of truth in it?"

“I'm a noble; my father is a dark warlord. He reigns undefeated, slaying all who challenge him. I am the last surviving heir of his house; he slew my mother, and my sisters in a fit of rage when he learned they intended to escape with me. In my hand, I hold the last heirloom of our once great and noble line; the first of my great forefathers: the ancestoral lord who conquered the north. Together, we would have been destined to rule, father and son, but my mother had other plans. It was then I chanced upon this maiden, and knew my father would kill me before I could have her. I was to be married to a princess. Then my House was destroyed within a fire, set ablaze by father's enemies... I am the last of my line, a wandering exile - I seek my love, and a place to dwell, or a place to die. You see, my dear and closest friend, now all I have left is what I wear. A lord without a throne; a general without his people. Peasant revolts sprang up and I am a wanted man!”

"Pah!" Nivram finished the bottle and threw it in the grass where it rolled a few feet away. "Next time you'll be a woman in a man's body, enchanted by an evil sorcerer and only true love's first kiss can save you from having to live out the rest of your life as a man...give me a break..."

“Funny you should say that...” Asikol said with a straightface, “I'm descended from a line of dragons...”

"Yes...and I've never touched a drop of alcohol in my life."

“I shall never play cards with you, my friend. You are just far too canny.”

(Again, written with Dplax)