To Love, Once Again

Chapter 69

Lucien stood outside Lord Norwood's estate, murmuring to Aslan. The large warhorse's ears constantly flicked around as he pawed at the ground, hungry for some action. 

Aslan nickers at someone's arrival.

Next to him, Gaer dismounts off a borrowed horse with a grace that seems strange coming from his rough appearance of grown-out blonde beard and simple peasant clothes.

"You call? Your bird wake me up" Gaer grunts out in his signature thick accent, rubbing his back and wincing. It's been a while since he'd last ridden a horse. He'd forgotten how it used a different set of muscles from what his body had grown used to.

"Yes." Lucien turns to him while Gaer was busy adjusting the belt of his pants, making sure it fit around his hips. 

When the large hawk had let out a piercing cry outside his tent as he laid next to his sleeping wife, Gaer hadn't had the chance to check in the dark whether the belt holding his pants up was buckled in place. He hadn't even been able to bring his beloved pipe.

"I need your help, Gaer" Lucien glances down at the Azai man, giving him a firm handshake in greeting.

"With what?" Gaer squints his dark green eyes. 

"Tracking."

Gaer's mouth forms into a thin line when he hears that word.

"We humble people. Azai hunt animal only." Shaking his head, he turns to leave.

"Of course, I can offer you compensation." Gesturing to the cart behind him, Lucien pulls back the tarp covering, revealing the mounds of luscious furs the knights had worked to bring out from Lord Norwood's secret cellar.

Gaer's eyes widen at the sight of the snow white fur. "Where did you get this!?" 

His hand shakes as he reaches towards the beautiful snow-cat furs. These cats, called the Aubin by his people, were sacred to the Azai. Not even to the Azai, but the Azark nation as a whole knew not to hunt these beautiful, feral creatures. Hunting them was forbidden, as they were thought to bring good luck if spotted. Each Azai child would track one Aubin cat down as part of their rites of passage. The Azai believed that a few days of observing the cats brought enlightenment to the children on their nomadic way of life.

"Wait." Lucien steps between the wagon and Gaer.

To see the furs stacked up like this was enough to make any grown Azai cry out in anguish. Lucien knew this too. Which was why he'd had them brought out immediately in preparation for Gaer's arrival.

The Azai were extremely secretive about their tracking skills, but Lucien had known. Some Azai youths had participated in the beginnings of the Great War, tracking down Lucien and his men over rivers and in the pouring rain, through storms and windy days that would make any other tracker give up. The Azai would always find them, no matter the conditions, like magic. Lucien knew it was some sort of magic. His trusted instinct told him so.

He ignores Gaer's growl, looking unperturbed when the shorter blonde man's thick fingers rest upon his war hammer.

"I consider myself a fair man. And the safety of my family and nations are at stake."

Gaer relaxes his grip. The King of Thornmere wanted to barter with the Chief of the Azai then.

Lucien points back to the wagon. "The furs in exchange for tracking down a human."

One red-haired, heavily built, tall man looks down upon a shorter, but no less built, grizzled tribesman. A long pause, as the furrows in the Azai man's brows deepen.