“So they’ve finally decided to do something about this,” Hadrian said. “I’m impressed the church would go to such an effort to save a little village so far out that even its own king doesn’t care. But that still doesn’t explain why you two are here.”
“I’m hurt.” Mauvin feigned a chest pain. “Granted, I’m only here to help Fanen, but I might try my hand as well. Although, if you’re going to be competing, it looks as if we shouldn’t have bothered with the trip.”
Theron whispered to Hadrian, “Who are these people? And what is he talking about?”
“Ah—sorry, this is Mauvin and Fanen Pickering, sons of Count Pickering of Galilin in Melengar, who are apparently very lost. Mauvin, Fanen, this is Theron Wood; he’s a farmer.”
“And he’s paying you for lessons? Smart idea, but how did you two get here ahead of the rest of us? I didn’t see you at any of the camps. Oh, what am I thinking? You and Royce probably had no trouble discovering the location of the contest.”
“Contest?”
“Royce was probably hiding under the archbishop’s desk as he set up the rules. So will it be swords? If it’s swords, Fanen has a real chance to win, but if it’s a joust, well …” He glanced at his brother, who scowled. “He’s really not that good. Do you know how the eliminations will work? I can’t imagine they will pit noble against commoner, which means Fanen won’t be competing with you, so—”
“You’re not here to slay the Gilarabrywn? Are you saying these people are here for that stupid contest?”
“Gilarabrywn? What’s a Gilarabrywn? Is that like Oswald the bear? Heard about him coming through Dunmore. Terrorized villages for years until the king killed him with just a dagger.”
The entourage traveled past them without pause up toward the manor house. One of the coaches separated from the group just after it cleared the well. It stopped, and a young well-dressed woman exited and ran to them, holding the edge of her skirt up to avoid the dirt.
“Hadrian!” she cried with a bright smile.
Hadrian bowed, and Theron joined him.
“Is this your father, Hadrian?” she asked.
“No, Your Highness. May I present Theron Wood of Dahlgren Village. Theron, this is Her Royal Highness Princess Arista of Melengar.”
Theron stared at Hadrian, shocked. “You really get around, don’t you?”
Hadrian smiled awkwardly and shrugged.
“Hey, Arista,” Fanen said. “Guess what. Hadrian says the contest is to kill a beast.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Which is just fine by me, because if Hadrian was going to be competing, I think I would have to withdraw. But now, a hunt is a much different story. You know luck is often a deciding factor in these things.”
“‘These things’?” Arista laughed at him. “Attended several beast-slaying contests, have you, Fanen?”
“Bah!” Fanen scoffed. “You know what I mean. Sometimes you are just in the right place at the right time.”
Mauvin shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like much of a contest for noblemen, really. If it turns out to be true, I’ll be disappointed. Slaughtering a poor animal is no good use for a Pickering’s sword.”
“Say, did you also hear what the prize will be?” Fanen asked. “The way they’ve been selling this contest in every square, church, and tavern across Avryn, it has to be big. Will it just be a gold trophy, or is it land? I’m hoping to get an estate out of this. Mauvin will inherit our father’s title, but I have to fend for myself. What does this animal look like? Is it a bear? Is it big? Have you seen it?”
Hadrian and Theron exchanged stunned looks.
“What is it?” Fanen asked. “It’s not dead already?”
“No,” Hadrian said. “It’s not dead already.”
“Oh good.”
“Your Highness!” A woman’s voice came from the carriage still lingering up the trail. “We need to be going—the archbishop will be waiting.”
“I’m sorry,” she told them. “I have to go. It was good seeing you again.” She waved and ran back to her waiting carriage.
“We should probably be going too,” Mauvin said. “We want to get Fanen’s name as near to the top of the list as we can.”
“Wait,” Hadrian told them. “Don’t enter the contest.”
“What?” they both said.
“We rode days to get here for this,” Fanen complained.
“Take my advice. Turn around right now and head back home. Take Arista with you too and anyone else you can convince to go. If it is a competition to kill the Gilarabrywn, don’t sign up. You don’t want to fight this thing. I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. If you try and fight this creature, it will kill you.”
“But you think you can kill it?”
“I’m not fighting it. Royce and I were just here doing a job for Theron’s daughter and we were about to leave.”
“Royce is here too?” Fanen asked, looking around.
“Do your father a favor and leave now.”