CHAPTER 1: EX MALO BONUM
“I simply cannot, dear Icarus,” a young man exclaimed as his group wandered through a small merchant town, one gloved hand pushing dirty brown locks out of his face as he tried to keep the sun from his eyes. “I cannot take another lover! My blood is cursed!”
“What,” responded his companion, a slender man with blonde hair, in a smooth, high voice that contrasted his friend's rough, low voice. “Your mother's a princess and your father a potato? Your blood is in no way cursed.”
“But my mother is indeed a princess,” the first man whined, turning to another companion of his. “Marcus,” he pleaded, “tell Icarus of my royal blood!”
A younger-sounding voice laughed, gently yet loudly, before responding, “his blood's cursed 'cuz he's crazy. If Orestes has any kids, they'll catch his crazy too!”
Orestes sputtered, not looking his way as he walked backwards in order to look his companion in the eye. He began to speak again, but was cut off as he walked into his group's leader, the Lord Canaan.
“This is more, much more than your fiction, Orestes,” Canaan scolded emptily, not even bothering to turn to look at the boy who had backed into him. Upon investigation, Orestes noted that his superior's face held no expression, but was blank, his eyes glazed as they focused forward, and his mouth unmoving.
“Fictional or not,” Icarus chimed, stuck his tongue out to lick his lips, then continued, “I'd love a taste of cursed royal blood.”
“Hardly the time for rough play, my friend!” Orestes retaliated with a gesture at Canaan. It had been two moons since the passing of Canaan's father, the ruler of the Aurean Kingdom and the Elisian people's symbol of hope, Sir Joseph Brandeis. The event had deeply shocked Canaan, and rather than take his father's place on the throne, he set off for the neighbouring land of Eden to ask for the aid of its Lord and people. His father's final words were used assuring him that he could take down the Demon who haunted their land, however, Canaan held little faith in himself and was seeking to start a band of mercenaries to assist him. Along for the journey were Orestes, a young warrior-in-training, the swordsman Icarus, Marcus, a young mage of many talents, Virgil, the Tactician and leader of the Elisian army, and Judas, a sellsword and Canaan's childhood friend.
Canaan gave a grunt, then took a breath to recompose himself before he stepped forward. He turned to the Tactician, a forced smile overtaking his blank face as he asked, “Virgil, remind me again why we have brought these young ones along?”
“To avoid seeming a threat, milord,” Virgil responded coolly. He was older than even Canaan, but still in his youth, and though the top of his head bore no hair, his chin was covered. Despite his slightly portly figure, he stood tall, is posture dignified.
Canaan glanced over his shoulder to see that Orestes and Icarus had run off to a nearby stall. He groaned, turning on his heel to approach the two. Icarus was leaning on the stall, a bright, shining red apple held in his right hand as he flirted relentlessly with the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper herself seemed to be roughly the boy's age, with a slim figure. She had gentle, honey-yellow eyes and hair that matched the fruits she sold. While not his type, Canaan could see how Icarus considered her to be a piece of eye candy. Her half-lidded eyes stayed trained on Icarus as she circled him, and as she paused in front of him, she leaned in to whisper something in his ear, much to his amusement and Orestes' dismay.
“Oi!” Orestes grabbed the merchant's shoulder, drawing her attention to him. The two gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, the merchant's eyes flashing a deep red for a moment, but Orestes shook his head and pushed her away, thinking he was imagining it. “That's my man. Icarus, let's go!”
“Oh, Orestes,” the merchant chimed, taking the mercenary aback as she began to circle him, then paused again, and grabbed him, holding his face close. “Your little honeybun is just reserving you folks a nice room in my inn,” she winked, pushing his head back.
Orestes glanced at Icarus, who seemed almost entranced by the red-haired lady, but before he could protest, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped in surprise. Canaan had come up behind him while he was distracted, and was now holding him still.
“Miss, I must apologize for these boys. They're--” Canaan began, but was cut off as the merchant replied.
“Oh, no. In fact, I appreciate your companions' patronage! They're attempting to reserve you a room in the inn my father and I run. Well, all of you. We only have the one room, we're poor, but we have some cots and blankets those that don't fit can use, and I don't mind if you sleep in the lobby... We do have some guests but-”
“Enough! It's getting late. We'll take the room. I'll pay. Lead us there,” Canaan commanded as Marcus and Virgil rushed to his side to see what was happening.
“Of course. Thank you, sir.” With that, the merchant quickly closed shop and led the group off towards her inn.