“So, what are we supposed to be doing in this village? I’m not cut out to be building houses.”
Lucien laughed. “No, I don’t suppose any of us are. Green Tryst has no domestic Aesthesics so we have been called in to offer our support.”
Jarryn nodded his understanding. “Wyvern attacks are, fortunately, very rare. But attacks do happen in Desanne as well. The devastation…” He shook his head. “It’s nothing short of utterly traumatising to those who survive.”
Leander glanced between the two men. “So we... what? Rid them of their traumatic feelings in response to the event?”
“Don’t be so obtuse, Leander,” Jarryn growled, and Leander was reminded of the fact that they were supposed to be forging a positive bond—that was the real mandated mission from the king. “Removing emotions of that magnitude from a person leaves them with a memory they have no hope of processing. Trauma cannot be ignored or swept under a rug. You must face it in your own time, but face it, you must.”
“Exactly.” Ever the diplomat, Lucien had been working hard all day to keep Leander and Jarryn from letting their verbal sparring go too far. “More importantly, perhaps, many of the survivors are children. They need very particular care and attention.”
“Very well. I like children. Glad to be of assistance.” Leander smiled.
“You don’t strike me as the type.” Jarryn said.
“Why not? They’re innocent and pure. And their lies are adorable. No one believes them but they pretend to all the same. It’s great.”
“The God of Lies, ladies and gents,” Jarryn’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Defiling the minds and souls of our innocent children.”
That got Leander’s hackles raised. “I don’t fucking invent the lies and force them into a child’s mind. They do that themselves.”
“Sure.”
Leander pulled his horse around to halt in front of Jarryn’s horse, forcing him to stop, which ground everyone else to a halt. “And what of Serai? Do you blame the Goddess of Death for the loss of your loved ones? For the loss of your father? She is not responsible. Just like I am not to blame for the average mortal telling an untruth in their mundane lives.”
That shut Jarryn up. The pair stared at each other, yet another competition of wills.
“I’d like to get to Green Tryst before midnight, gentlemen. Let’s move.” Lucien positioned his own horse between the pair of them.
It was a command; they both knew it. Sighing, Leanderpulled on the reins of his horse to turn her back around and start moving forward again. This time, however, Lucien and Verin had strategically, if very unsubtly, manoeuvred their horses between Leander and Jarryn.
As the horses continued to meander along the path towards Green Tryst, Lucien apparently was keen to mend the rift between his two companions after their exhaustingly constant altercations. He chatted quietly with Verin for a time, not really making much effort to involve the two who were at each other’s throats.
Eventually, he addressed the pair. “Alright, you two,” Lucien said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement amidst the swaying trees in the gentle breeze. “If we’re going to make it through this little trip without one of you chucking the other into the nearest river to drown, we might need to work on our camaraderie.”
Leander shot a pointed look at Jarryn, his expression full of exasperation and very little shared amusement at Lucien’s words. “I’m not promising anything. Prince Jarryn has the temper of a thunderstorm. Anything sets him off.”
Rolling his eyes, Jarryn’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he retorted, “Hey, at least we’re interesting and entertaining company, right?”
Lucien chuckled as he kept his horse on the path, guiding the others towards the village, which was now in sight. “Entertaining might be an understatement. I’ve seen tavern brawls with less drama.”
Deadpan, Leander replied, “What can I say? We aim to please.”
“Aim to aggravate is more like it,” Jarryn cut in irritably.
“Aggravate. Entertain. Same difference,” Lucienquipped quickly, a smile playing on his lips. “Let’s just try to keep the drama to a minimum until we leave Green Tryst, shall we? The villagers have enough to worry about without a demigod and a prince having a rumble in their town square.”
“If Jarryn can let go of his ego, sure... though there’s not much substance to that.”
“At least I don’t carry around the literal weight of a full god complex wherever I go.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “I might start taking bets on who throws the last insult. Verin, are you interested in partaking?”
Verin, who had not smiled once, shook his head before returning his beady eyes to visually scouting the area.
Amusement finally softened Leander’s features—just a little. “I’ve got my money on Jarryn. He’s got the temper of a startled griffin and always seems to need to have the last word.”
“And you’ve got the patience of a hoardless dragon. Let’s see who snaps first.”
