"Why do you walk like that?"

Conor turned his head to the right, catching Devin's eye. The other boy quickly diverted his gaze. How odd.

"Walk like what?" Conor questioned curiously. Devin fiddled with the reins in his hand, seemingly trying to phrase his answer in the least hurtful way possible.

"You slouch," Devin muttered, "and you never know what to do with your hands." Now that he mentioned it, Conor was awfully aware of both things.

"Apologies that my posture is not as impeccable as yours, Your Highness," Conor replied after an awkward moment of silence. "And I'm used to holding things, I guess. Like my shepherd's crook. Or bags."

Devin slowly nodded. Conor realized with amusement that Devin never had to carry anything except a sword. Everything was always done for him. What different lives they lived.

Suddenly, Devin's horse snorted, catching both of them off guard. Conor's horse merely gave his neighbour a judgmental stare. The two riders had decided to walk on the ground for a while, giving their horses time to rest without a human slowing them down. They'd do this several times on their journey, as well as stopping every now and then to rest and brush down their horses' coats.

"Well," Conor said abruptly, "I assume the one thing we can agree on is that Dukenshire is the closest town from here?"

"Ding-ding." Devin nodded. For once, Conor was thankful for Devin's large abundance of semi-useless knowledge.

After four hours of quiet riding and walking, the dull rooftops and streets of Dukenshire appeared before them in the distance. Their horses, noticing the obvious sign of human life in the distance, put a bit of pep in their step. The two riders breathed out sighs of relief, letting their horses lead the way.

"It looks just as boring as I remember it," Devin mused. It didn't sound like he was talking to Conor, but he responded anyways.

"You've been here before?" Maybe it was a stupid question, considering the fact that royalty seemingly always liked to travel.

"Yes."

A pause.

"I didn't like it."

Conor laughed. "I wonder how the town would feel hearing you say that," he joked. But he was beginning to think Devin was right. They hadn't even reached the town yet, and he was already thinking it looked quite bland. Compared to the colorful rooftops in other parts of Eura, the simple grey of Dukenshire was rather unimpressive. The buildings themselves were plain stained wood, and were disappointingly small. Even the Baron's home, resting above all the others at the far end of the town, paled in comparison to others Conor had seen on his travels. It was an ant compared to the Trunswick Castle, and certainly a laughing matter to the average Euran town.

"What were you doing here?" Conor wondered aloud.

Devin sniffed. "My father used to do this very petty thing where he'd make surprise visits to nearby towns. Kept them in order and such. He used to drag me along. Double trouble, I suppose," he explained, exasperation in his tone. "I was eight, maybe. Not old enough to pay much attention to things."

Conor nodded along. "Why doesn't he do that anymore?"

Devin paused. "As all people do, he's getting older. No longer feels like it," he replied simply. Conor knew that wasn't all there was to it, but he didn't want to press further and make a foe out of his travelling partner.

"One last question."

"I swear to-" Devin was cut off as Conor spoke over him.

"What if they recognize you?"

Devin cocked his head to the side. "The last time I was here, I was eight years old. And people outside of Trunswick hardly ever see my family in person. I think I'll be alright."

Conor didn't mention that Devin's choice of clothing, his posture, and even the way he spoke gave away that he was of rich descent, but maybe he didn't need to.

Half an hour later, the two arrived in Dukenshire, just before the sun had completely disappeared beyond the horizon. People looked curiously at them, eyeing their dirty horses and the riders' tired expressions. Dukenshire had a large mix of odd smells. One moment, you were smelling fresh bread. The next, you were smelling rotting garbage. As they walked, the gravel beneath the horses' hooves crunching louder than gravel should crunch, Conor thought, he caught a whiff of clean linen, the smell of savory food, and even the smell of soap as someone scrubbed vigorously at their dirty windows.

"You boys! On the horses!"

Devin and Conor both came to attention at the sudden noise. A rather well fed woman was coming towards them, a friendly smile on her face.

"Can we help you, madam?" Devin asked gently, leaning down in his saddle.

"No way, my boy, but I can certainly help you." She pointed at the two of them, her grin unwavering. "Ye look tired down to yer very bones," she commented. Conor flushed. "There's an inn just down the road to ye right. You'll know it when ye see it. Serves good food. Nice rooms."

Devin seemed to brighten at this news. Conor wanted to sink down into his saddle and cry tears of joy. He was used to travelling, but travelling with somebody was a different story. There was less tranquility and more, 'how can I get away for five minutes?'

"That's good news," Devin responded, a matching smile on his face. "I was just about ready to curl up on the side of the road."

The woman whistled. "No need for that, young man. A nice warm bed'll serve ye well. Now go on!" She began ushering them forwards.

"Thank you!" Devin called over his shoulder as he began to trot away. Conor followed after him, a tad disappointed he wasn't able to show off his excellent social skills.

The boys trotted down the narrow strip of road, slowing down in thicker crowds. There weren't many people out. Most were home safe and sound with their families. Conor sort of missed that feeling. Eventually, they found themselves at a surprisingly comfortable looking inn. A stable was tucked off to the side, and they took the liberty of putting their horses in their own stalls. Conor attempted to refill their water basins, but a stable girl ushered him off, encouraging him to get inside and stay warm.

Few looked up as Conor entered the inn. By the looks of it, it was a small but well kept place. A bar sat at the far back of the room, a few men sitting and nursing beverages around it, laughing away. Tables and booths filled the remainder of the room, the occasional customer sitting at it and staring into their dinner.

Conor walked over to where Devin was sitting. On their table sat two cups of tea and two small bowls of steaming stew.

"Back so soon," Devin commented, picking up his cup of tea and raising it to his lips.

"Got kicked out," Conor replied with an embarrassed smile. He sat down across from the prince, peeking at the stew. For someone who had been living off of beef jerky and non-perishable items for a good part of his life, it looked damn good. Reluctantly, he began eating. Carefully, however, because it was highly likely Devin would point it out if he ate too fast.

"Good stew," Conor noted enthusiastically. "Have you tried it?"

Devin blinked slowly at his bowl. Inside was an interesting mix of vegetables; carrots, bits of broccoli, onion, and other things. He also noticed the beef strewn about in the stew. "I suppose I should then, huh?" he muttered, hesitantly picking up the spoon.

"Are you afraid of stew, Devin?" Conor raised an eyebrow at him, amusement glinting in his eyes. He knew the true reason Devin wasn't in a hurry to eat it, but he enjoyed teasing him whenever he got the chance.

"I'm not afraid of it," Devin mumbled, a little defensively.

Conor patiently waited for the other boy to try it. "Your verdict, my lord?" He grinned as Devin lowered the spoon.

Devin gave him a hard stare, then lowered his eyes as he said, "It.. tastes like stew."

Conor barked out a laugh. "'Tastes like stew,' he says as he consumes what is obviously stew." Conor noticed with some satisfaction that Devin's cheeks were actually turning a little red.

Then, Devin snapped to attention, as he seemed to hear something Conor had missed. The adventurer gazed at him curiously, keeping quiet. Now, he thought he could hear what had gotten Devin's attention. The men at the table were louder in their drunken states, and were talking about something of interest.

"Oi, did ye hear? Lotta trees up north dying with no explanation. Sounds a lil odd, ay?"

His companions grunted their agreements. "They say their animals are goin' a little berserk too," another added.

"Why is that our problem?" The third laughed. "It's Glengavin that's gotta deal with it, not us."

"Glengavin?" Devin echoed with interest, keeping his voice down.

Conor narrowed his eyes. "Glengavin is a peaceful town in the northern mountains. They don't have the military training or men to deal with such an issue," he whispered.

"Or our serpent friend," Devin seemed to be getting excited, and it somewhat worried Conor.

The conversation between the men had been short, and they were now talking about their pets back home.

"We should go claim that room of ours," Devin said after a long moment.

"Tell me you got two beds," Conor replied pleadingly.

"Ah, it was a tad pricey."

Conor's hope was quenched.

"But it's a small price to pay to not sleep next to you."

Conor's hope returned. "Thank you," he whisper-yelled in relief.

Devin shrugged, ascending the stairs that led to the rooms. Conor silently followed, dragging their supplies with him.