The early morn’n calm was shattered by the sound of sandals slapping furiously on the cobble-stoned street as it echoed off the building walls en route to the slowly wakening dock. Men were starting to rise as the sun rose weekly over the gray horizon. On board a small schooner, docked and rolling gently with the calm sea, a grizzled sailor made ready for launch. He was accustomed to leaving in a hurry and the shout ringing out in the otherwise almost silent square surprised him not at all.

“Sparman, cast off!” yelled the large, blond haired man running furiously toward the small schooner. Legs pumping hard, sweat gleaming on his impressively built body, he ran with reckless abandon.

Not far behind the blond youth and trying with all his might not to break out into a fit of laughter was another big man with long, dark hair running a little less quickly in a little less of a serious manner. Behind the two fleeing men were eight palace guards determined to stop the two before they reached the boat. The race would be close but the two men had enough of a lead to make their escape before the soldiers could catch up. The small boat was easing away from the dock, the distance between getting larger by the second but the blond man made an effortless leap and landed aboard ship. Seconds later his companion landed and unable to hold it in any longer, he doubled over and started laughing.

“I hope she was worth it, Argos! You certainly wore out our welcome in this fair town,” gasped the man between fits of laughter.

“Oh, it was worth it, Thraingor,” Argos said with the beginning of a smile.

An arrow plunked down between Argos’s feet and caused them both to jump and look back at the dock. Three of the guards were notching arrows, hoping for another chance.

“We’d better get below deck before one of those idiots gets lucky,” said Thraingor.  

“Take off, Sparman!” Argos yelled over his shoulder as the two men made their way below.”

For an answer the old sailor smiled, turned his boat into the wind and headed out into the harbor. A few arrows plunked harmlessly in the side of the small schooner as it slipped out to sea.

Once inside their cabin Argos wiped off a dusty bottle of wine, uncorked it and then poured two generous helpings into ornate, silver mugs. Holding his up he said, “Here’s to beautiful women and their unwise husbands!”

After clinking mugs, Thraingor asked with a smile, “Why can’t you find romance with a nice single girl?”

“Ah, but married women are the best! They don’t expect you to wake up with them in the morning and they never, ever, want to introduce you to their family. Besides, married women have more experience!” grinned Argos.

“Well, be that as it may,” responded Thraingor, shaking his head with a smile, “we’ll find no welcome here any time soon. Did you have to bed the royal princess of all women?”

“Is it my fault she wanted me? I was minding my own business when…”

“You never mind your own business when it comes to women, and besides, that seems to be your only business of late. We’re almost out of money. What say you to that? What are we going to do now?”

Argos downed his last bit of wine and chuckled, “I heard from this very same princess there’s a problem in one of the seaport cities up north. Think you they could use a couple of good sword hands?”

Thraingor looked Argos over to see if he was serious and answered in a sober voice,  “Since when did we start hiring ourselves out as mercenaries?”

“Ah…not mercenaries, Thraingor.  Hunters! I have it on good authority the Prince of Telladan is looking for some skilled hunters to come and remove an unwanted creature lurking about his city. He is offering a large reward!”

Thraingor looked relieved. “That’s different,” he replied with an air of interest. “Why doesn’t the prince hunt it himself?”

“Oh, the prince tried, but lost many men and now the king has forbidden it.  He has to find others to do it for him. He’s assembled the best fighters from his city but none of them have been able to track and slay the creature. The word is that anyone who can best his top swordsmen will be chosen to hunt this creature and he has promised to the victors their weight in jewels.”

“Besting their swordsmen will prove the winner to be a hunter?”

“It’s their rule, Thraingor. We’ll just take advantage of it.”

“No wonder they haven’t killed it yet,” Thraingor said as he looked around the tiny room that made up their traveling quarters.

“Their loss could very well be our gain,” grinned Argos.

“What do you know about this creature?”

“Not much. It comes near town around sunset, grabs children or livestock from the outskirts and carries them off never to be seen again.”

“Sounds like it could be one of the large cats living in the northern forests. I’ve just never heard of one coming so close to the coast though, they usually stay in their own territory. I hope there’s only one such creature, they’re not easy to kill!”

“I have yet to meet an animal that did not bleed red from my sword,” Argos said.

Thraingor smiled and asked, “When are we going?”

“Look out to port, man, we’re already headed north!”

The two men, after finishing another glass of wine and discussing their plans for ending the creature’s reign went topside and sat, watching the land go by in slow, methodical motion. The day passed leisurely and found the men napping, playing dice, or taking turns at the wheel. When night’s darkness crept into the sky, Sparman guided their little ship toward shore and dropped anchor. They had a light meal of bread, cheeses, and fruit washed down with clear, cool spring water from a leather flask. After spending a few hours in deep discussion, the men headed off for sleep. 

Upon waking in the morning they finished off last night’s foods and made ready their supplies and weapons for the forthcoming stop at Telladan. They sparred and practiced to pass the time while they sailed north up the coast. As the sun reached its zenith, their little boat cruised into the harbor and both men made ready to meet the prince.

“Sparman, keep berthed here until we return,” Argos said as they started down the hastily put plank.

“As you wish Argos, luck be with you both,” Sparman replied with a wink.

The men viewed a small, bustling town full of chaotic activity on the docks. A number of times they were forced to jump out of the way to keep from being knocked over by men carrying supplies to other ships. Argos and Thraingor were amazed at how the men on the docks were dressed in such an assortment of clothing with absolutely no consideration for color, or mayhap there was too much consideration. They were dressed in bright greens, pinks, reds, yellows, purples, and countless other combinations of gaudy colors vying hard to upstage the next. It was as if each man strove to outshine, and out mismatch the others in their quest to be the most colorful man on the dock. Argos and Thraingor looked on in amusement as they passed through the streets in their drab tan hunting leathers.

Passing out of the docks, the streets took on a more familiar look as they were filled with businesses selling anything from conch shells to some of the finest weaponry they had ever seen. Stopping for a while, they milled around the weapons noting the finer points of each piece. While they were there they asked the proprietor where to find the prince and turned their heads to look as he pointed out the most imposing building in the city sitting atop the only rise within the town. They thanked the man and headed up toward the palace passing through the residential portion on their way.

The houses were small, well-built affairs painted in a wide variety of colors; each determined to outshine the next. It made for an interesting jaunt and Argos and Thraingor were in good spirits when they approached the palace. Here all colors stopped as the palace was immaculately white and stood out in stark contrast to its surroundings. Around it were a multitude of colors created by a masterful arrangement of flowering plants lending their shades to the land surrounding the palace. The effect of it was pleasing to the eye.

“Man knows how to garden!” Argos said with an appreciative nod in the direction of the palace.

“That he does, that he does,” Thraingor said with a little awe.

The palace, three-tiered with colonnades all around the front, had balconies extending out of each room on the upper two floors. The domed roof had the faint suggestion of gold imbued on its surface. Carved figures under the roof, on a ledge that ran all around the building, gave all visitors the feeling they were being watched as they approached the palace. Great sculpted warriors, as well as misshapen creatures stood guard over the premises. In silent duty they carried out their timeless task, frozen in time.

 As the two men stood gaping at the figures they heard a voice speak, “Ho, warriors, what brings you to Prince Camish’s palace?”    

“We seek to rid the prince of his evening stalker,” said Argos, turning to face the man.

“Aha, two more warriors to claim the prize,” laughed the guard. “We have had so many show up hoping to claim the reward, the rules have changed.”

Argos and Thraingor glanced at each other before Thraingor turned back and asked, “And what would that be, honorable soldier?”

“The prince is holding a contest to see who is worthy of challenging our best swordsmen. We can save time and let you fight it out amongst yourselves first. Then those two that succeed will face our champions.”

“When is this contest to start?” asked Argos.

“On the morrow, when the sun first crests Raven’s Peak.”

“And what is this Raven’s Peak? We are new to this area.”

“Look yonder at the mountain,” the guard said while pointing in the direction of an oddly shaped mountain, “where the crest looks like the beak of a large bird. When the sun has risen to that point the contest will begin.”

“Very well. Can you suggest good lodging for the night?” queried Argos.

“The prince has graciously allowed those who seek the right to hunt the beast a nights lodging in his palace. When you go in ask for scribe Jericonico, he will see to your needs.”

“Thank you, kind sir. By the way, do you have any idea what kind of beast we’ll be hunting?” asked Thraingor.

“No. Everyone who’s hunted the creature has not returned. Still want to sign up?”

“Yes,” they both answered and with a nod of their heads Argos and Thraingor headed up to the palace.

Entering, they saw a small, bald-headed man sitting at an ornate gold-leaf table shuffling through a pile of scrolls. The two men assumed this was the man named Jericonico but he paid no attention to their presence. As they waited patiently for the man to finish they looked around and viewed an exquisitely furnished foyer, complete with a number of marble statues that must be of the prince, or one of the his ancestors.

Magnificent tapestries depicting violently vivid scenes of battle were placed strategically behind the statues displaying fierce and haughty poses on the cold, white figures. Two sets of marble staircases leading to the upper levels were draped with banners and flags lending an air of color to the monochrome walls. The floor was tiled with something unfamiliar, spongy to the touch yet looking firm as stone.

When they looked back down the man was staring at them with a look of bored indifference. “Names, township, and ages.”

“Argos of Landsrad, twenty-four summers.”

“Thraingor of Landsrad, twenty-four summers.”

“You’re the first two we’ve had from Landsrad. Rather far from home, aren’t we?”

“We travel a lot, seeking our fortune where fortune will find us,” responded Argos.

“Are you here independently, or as a team?” asked the scribe.

“As a team.”

“All right, you will be paired off against two men from…Erstonia,” the fastidious little man said after consulting his scroll, “in the first round. If you make it to the next round you will have a half hour break until your next match, and so on, until you either lose or finish as the last competitors. All matches will take place on the morrow so I suggest you forgo any entertainment and get a good nights rest. If you are the lucky ones to make it, the contest between you and our champions will be the following day. Good luck to you.”

“Ah…thank you, but the guard outside said we were to stay in the palace tonight,” stated Argos.

“Oh, of course, how thoughtless of me. Let’s see, you will be in the west wing in room…thirty-three,” the scribe added as he again consulted one of his many scrolls.

He reached under the table, brought out a large bell and shook it hard a time or two and a loud, melodious clanging echoed through the palace. In a short minute a young boy of about twelve came jogging up to the table.

“Take these men to room thirty-three in the west wing.”

“Yes, Jericonico, at once. Please come this way, sirs.”

They followed the boy up the left staircase and around the corner to another, then down a long hallway stopping before a door that had no number, or any other distinguishing mark. The boy opened the door and motioned them in but before they could turn and say a word of thanks, he was gone. Looking around the room it appeared they were in a room allotted for nobles, for it was appointed with one large, oversized bed that could probably sleep eight, a private privy, tapestries on the walls, silk sheets billowing from the ceilings, and some very beautifully hand-carved furniture. There was a small sitting room off to the side that opened out onto one of the balconies they had noticed from outside.

Setting their gear down on a low table at the foot of the bed, they headed out to the balcony overlooking the property behind the palace. There were chairs to rest on and enjoy the scenery, and the scenery was most impressive to look at. Directly below was the largest lawn they had ever seen and it gave the impression of having every blade of grass hand-cut to the same height. In the center of the lawn, near the far end, were man-made ponds and waterfalls with water cascading down from many different paths into pools where people were bathing as they watched. Further in the distance they could see stables, servant quarters, and off to each side, further wings of the palace running parallel to the lawn, at least as long as an arrow’s flight.

All this was made even more spectacular as the end of the palace yards backed up to the foothills of the mountains standing off in the distance. As they looked around more, they noticed different areas where gardens of many colored foliage rested, shade trees complete with benches and tables to sit, an archery range, corrals, and walkways filled with crushed white stones that added a touch of elegance to the entire scene.

“This prince knows how to live,” said Thraingor.

“Yes he does. I wonder what kind of man this prince is?”

“Whatever he is, he certainly has good taste.”

They sat on the balcony until the sky turned purple with the setting sun. Their bellies started to grumble and just when they were considering wandering the halls to find something to eat, the boy who’d led them to their room knocked and brought them meal enough for four. Platters piled high with meats, cheeses, bread, and various fruits were set down on the table next to the door. Once again, before they could talk with the boy he was out the door. Shrugging their shoulders in a matter-of-fact manner, they set to their meal, complete with a good vintage wine and were soon full and sleepy.