The Thief and Prince

Chapter 11: Sweet Dreams

The grieving men that were left to bury the remains of their entire city hardened and grew cold, soon growing in size as other victims of the raiding party took up arms with them and quickly grew twice as large as the guerillas, inevitably slaughtering those that took everything from them. After rebuilding parts of their city enough to self-sustain again, the men realized that with no laws or anyone controlling what they did, they could do anything. Building an on no morals, laws, or king shaped them to be the ruthless barbarians we know today.

Nodding, I look over at him and study his profile. His thick eyebrows are furrowed together and his bottom lip juts out in a pout, clearly upset about the situation—rightfully so might I add.

"We'll get her back, Crispin," I offer, hoping it will bring some comfort though a small part in my mind is doubtful of my own words.

He turns to me, giving a small nod before sticking his foot in the stirrup and mounting up. Clearly, he is done speaking of the matter and who could blame him?

We follow suit and ride for a few more hours until we find a decent spot to make camp before falling into the usual routine. Once the tents are pitched and the food is cooked, Amiri and I spar, ending with me on my back with my breath knocked out. He helps me up and I brush off any grass before removing my bandage on my arm, satisfied with the healing that that has taken place over the past few nights, not bothering to redress the wound. As the sun sets, I take a seat at the flickering flames across from Amiri.

"Mind sharing?" Crispin asks him, nodding at the large bottle that Amiri had picked up in Farnmoss.

"Only if you get the next one," he teases, reaching over and handing the bottle to Crispin who lounges on his side to my right. The two of us haven't shared any more words since watering the horses earlier, deciding that leaving him alone would be best

He opens the cork and there is a satisfying "pop" before he takes a long swig. His nose crinkles up and he shakes his head in disgust, swallowing the mixture. "What the hell is that?" he asks, wiping his mouth on his shoulder. He then turns to me and offers the bottle to which I reluctantly take. If whatever is inside tastes so awful to get a reaction from Crispin, I'm pretty sure I won't like it either.

Sniffing, the fumes causes the hair on my arms to rise and I shiver involuntarily and glace up at Amiri. "This smells like a mixture of piss and spirits," I state, raising a brow. "What is it exactly?"

He shrugs and copies Crispin's position, laying down on his side while propping his head up on his elbow. He plucks some grass and begins tearing the blades with his tanned fingers. "Don't really know honestly. The man I bought it from this morning said it was his special brew," he explains. "It was half the price as the others so I thought why not? Saves me a few shillings," he states, lifting his shoulders once again into a shrug.

"You mean to tell me that you purchased a bottle of alcohol from a man who was selling before dawn?" Laria asks. "I'm just trying to get this straight in my head because that is without a doubt the sketchiest thing I have ever heard, Acadian."

He smirks, "And why's that?"

Laria's eyes narrow, "Because no one that is up before daylight selling discounted alcohol is up to any good."

He rolls his eyes and waves her off with one of left hand, "You worry too much love. Farnmoss is one of the few towns that never sleeps. You can buy practically anything at any time."

Chuckling, I put the glass bottle to my lips when she raises concerned eyebrows. "Please tell me you aren't going to drink that Cora," she asks.

Smirking, I shrug and a large gulp before I can no longer bare it and pull away, gagging. The liquid certainly contains white liquor that's for sure, but there is something else in it that I can't quite make out that's sweet. Regardless, my throat burns and eyes water and I give a shudder, feeling the heat that has already began to course through my body.