It was the day before Garriel's sixteenth birthday, and his two friends were planning to surprise him with the greatest present ever given to anyone in their camp.

"Mine friend," Mikkal said to Sabre in a thoughtful voice, "Doest thou percieve a Murgo hunt fit for this joyous occasion? I could head them off, as Garriel and thee sneak from behind and attack the foul people with surprise!"

Sabre gave him a long and steady glance. He lowered his head slightly, and shook it from side to side in reproval. "Mikkal, I don't think Garriel would like to die on the day before his birthday. How about we skip the Murgo hunt?"

Mikkal looked at his friend in shock. "Thou thinkest that the foul humans could slay Garriel? Tis a grave thought indeed." It was apparent that Mikkal did not know the actual danger that was involved in what he had requested.

Sabre tried to convince the Arend once again that attacking a group of Murgos was not the best idea in the world. "Mikkal," Sabre began, "Don't you think that the Murgos would be mounted. And wouldn't they have swords and armor with them. They also probably would have bows with them, so they would be able to shoot us from quite a distance away. Besides that, we aren't all that skilled."

Mikkal blinked suddenly. It appeared that he was acutally thinking for a reason around Sabre's logic. Of course, being an Mimbrate Arend, his couragousness gave him the answer right away. "Sabre, mine companion. Perhaps I, whom am larger and stronger then Garriel and thee, could draw the attention of the Murgo's from thee, mine friend. Thou and Garriel could move around a large tree, and attack the creatures from the opposite side."

Sabre in a long breath. It seemed that he was going to have to think of a way to scare Mikkal off. If he couldn't, Mikkal would probably go on the Murgo hunt anyway, with or without Garriel. "Well, I am sure Garriel would not like you dying as a present either. If you attract all of their attention, they will probably fill your chest full of arrows. They aren't all THAT bad marksmen, ya know. Then they'll just turn around and shoot off me and Garriel."

Mikkal scratched the top of his head. He was looking for a way to counter Sabre's comment. However, there was no way that he could find. Sabre had exhausted the possibilities of him intervening to avoid damage to any of his friends, and himself.

Sabre saw he needed the last blow. "And..", he said the feigned extravagance, "There might be a Gromlin priest with them, and you know what Gromlin priests do to people like me you and Garriel."

Mikkal looked hard at Sabre, drawing in his breath. Everyone knew what the Gromlin did as a religous practice. It was the rite of human sacrifice. Parents in Algaria, and perhaps in the entire world, frightened their children with the details of the actual sacrafice. What would happen is that the Gromlin would take the person to be sacraficed, or the slave if the person had one, and bend him backwards over the altar of the Dark God, Torak. Then, while two Gromlins held the person in place, while a third used a razor sharp knife to cut out the victims heart. He would then grasp it within his hand, and drop it on the fire which was burning near the altar. He would then announce to all the Agnaraks present in a loud voice, "Behold our offer to the Dragon God of Agnarak!" It was an aweful thing to do to a person, and it chilled Mikkal to the bone just thinking about it.

"So mine friend," Mikkal said to Sabre, "What doest though percieve as an amusing way to entertain Garriel?"

"Well..." Sabre began, as he rubbed his chin in thought. His eyes darted around as he thought of the perfect present. "Garriel does awefully like it when that storyteller comes around, no?"

Mikkal nodded his head dumbly.

"What if we could find a way to bring the storyteller to our camp for his birthday. I think that Garriel would find that as a great present."

"Thou are as clever as a fox, Sabre", Mikkal congratulated. "However, how wouldst thou bring the eld storyteller to the camp? Tis seven months until Erastade, and the storyteller only comes on that joyous holiday."

"I guess your right Mikkal, but, I was spying on the herdsmaster a couple days earlier.." Sabre began.

"Spying mine friend? Tis a foul occupation!"

"Oh be quiet Mikkal, and let me finish what I was saying!" Sabre reproved.

Mikkal quickly stopped talking.

"Anyway, I overheard that Hettar was going to be in that town that we are approaching." Sabre said, knowing that Mikkal would not understand his idea from just that.

"So?", Mikkal inquired of his Drasnian friend.

"Well, Garriel as never ridden quite so well," Sabre said, with a twinkle in his eye. "It is important for all Algars to ride horses, no? So why don't we just get him instruction from a Sha-Dar?"

"Thou art are brilliant Sabre!" Mikkal cried.

"I try." Sabre replied modestly. He then motioned over his shoulder for Mikkal to follow him back into the camp. He had a faint smile on his face, as they headed towards the area where the merchants were.

"Mikkal, don't say anything." Sabre requested of his friend critically. "I think I will be able to manage the sales on my own."

For the rest of the day, the two friends went walking around that sector, starting off with a small amount of money in which to buy things. Sabre, though, was a very good merchant, if one would like to call him one, and he quickly increased that amount by basically buying something from one person, and selling it to someone else for triple the price. Every time he entered, the merchant he was seeing had a large grin on his face, as they saw the small Drasnian child standing infront of them, making deals with them. Finally, he had to buy the food for the journey, and he heard that there was only one merchant that was selling beans nowadays. Quickly, they headed to the tent of Ambar of Kotu.

Ambar was a rat-faced man with an extremely long and pointed nose. By his appearences you could tell he was Drasnian, and he had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at the oncoming customer. His fingers moved quickly in some intricate pattern, as he looked to a woman sitting on the side in question. Obviously, he did not know what to think of the adolesants walking into his tent.

The woman smiled, her dimples showing in their full extravagance to her husband. She motioned something back, and then placed one of her hands through his long hair, looking back at Sabre and Mikkal.

"Welcome to the tent of Ambar of Kotu!" He said, with a grin spread across his face. "Have you come to ask for apprenticeship?"

Sabre glanced at the merchant. He could tell that there was something different about this one, but he wasn't quite sure of it. "No, we have come to purchase some beans."

Ambar laughed with a little sort of laugh, as he gazed at the child standing infront of him. "It is 4 crowns per barrel. Just put down the amount of crowns on the table, and I will get you the amount you want."

Sabre's eyes then twinkled. It appeared that Ambar was not expecting to haggle with such a young buyer. He had already set down half price for what they were going for. "How about I pay you 1 crown for a barrel?"

Ambar stopped laughing for a moment, as he glanced at the young Drasnian. His eyes looked as if they didn't believe it. He then glanced to the side, nodding to his wife. He motioned something to her, and then looked back to the child. "1 crown for a barrel is a pretty low price, wouldn't you say?"

Sabre smirked a bit, looking back at Ambar. "I would bet that you bought those off the farmer for a quarter that price. Wouldn't what you gave him be lower?"

Ambar frowned, as he looked back at the child. "The farmer sells more of them then me, he would make a better profit."

"It was your choice to buy his beans, it wasn't his choice to sell them." Sabre began, as he looked straight into Ambar's face.

"What do you mean by that?" The merchant asked his fellow Drasnian.

"Well, from what I read," Sabre explained to the obviously non-knowing merchant, "There is only one type of land that can grow beans. Everything else there just won't grow as well. So, the farmer could only grow beans, but it was your idea to go into selling beans. If you wanted a better profit, maybe you should have picked a better item."

The woman on Ambar's right began to chuckled.

"Velvet!", Ambar almost cried in anguish, "Why is it that you find this so funny?"

The woman looked at Ambar innocently, smiling as she let those dimples of her bore directly towards his face. "Oh, nothing dear."

Ambar looked crushed for a second. He then turned back to Sabre with a twinkle in his eye. "I won't sell the beans for such a low price."

"Alright then." Sabre motioned to Mikkal, pointing at the door. "I guess I'll go buy the beans from another merchant."

Ambar chuckled, as he lookd up to Sabre. "I am the only merchant that sells beans. There aren't any others in Algaria."

"Really?", Sabre asked, "I met one about a week ago. He was a Nadrak, and he said that he and his partner were the only ones to sell beans in the whole world. He was a bit drunk at the time, so spying on him wasn't such a hard thing to do."

"Spying is an ill thing to do," Ambar began to protest, his face suddenly gone pale.

Sabre laughed a short laugh, and then bowed with extravagant curtesy. "I am so pleased that the greatest of all spies thinks of his profession as so."

Ambar looked at the kid, his eyes unbelieving. Sabre turned to Ambar, and tossed 2 Tolnedran crowns on the table which was infront of him. "It was fun arguing with the great Prince Kheldar of Drasnia."

Suddenly, his wife began to laugh. Ambar turned a deep red, looking over to the boy. He then turned to his wife.

The blond just kept laughing, keeping her hand to her mouth as she did so. "Silk, it appears that you lost." She smiled evily, casting all her dimples in his direction. "And to a child."

Prince Kheldar turned to look at the Drasnian child, now smiling slightly. "It appears that I have. Boy, what is you name? And the name of your companion."

"My name is Sabre, you highness." Sabre replied him deep with feigned respect. It was something Drasnians did to their monarchs and to their superiors.

"He's making fun of me Velvet", Ambar said flatly.

"I know Silk."

"And mine name," Mikkal said, surprising both Ambar and his wife with his Mimbrate tongue, "Is Mikkal." He bowed deeply to the couple. "I greet ye to our unsightly camp. Thou art welcome here as much as ye would wish to come."

"Nope, you are wrong there, friend." Ambar chuckled slightly in an undertone, looking at the two boy's bewildered faces. "I am not welcome anywhere. It is part of my job description."

"Noble merchant, thou art welcome to all lands where goods may be sold. How could it be that thou art not welcome in all lands?" Mikkal asked the unlikely Prince. Sabre's eyes had a look of understanding in them, as he turned to his friend.

"Mikkal," he began, slowly so that the Arend would comprehend his answer, "Prince Kheldar, who is the merchant who just lost a lot of money on those beans, is an internationally reknowned spy, thief, cheat, and gambler."

Prince Kheldar winced slightly, as the child reminded him that he had lost a huge amount on the beans. Sabre noticed the wincing, and used it in full advantage to make fun of the prince again.

"Sire, did I get all the information right? You seem a bit unnerved."

Velvet laughed, looking at the now red Prince Kheldar. She noticed the child's jeer, and laughed a bit more.Kheldar's face turned redder. That is when she decided it was time to join in on the fun."Come on, dear, don't get so upset. He is only a child. How were you supposed to know he outwit you?"

Kheldar's face turned the most unusual colors at that instant, as he got up quickly. "I think I need a walk", he said meekly. He then turned to the entrance of the tent and fled.

"Excuse my husband, he thinks he is invinsible."

"He is", confirmed Sabre thoughtfully. "The only thing is, that he did not expect me to be so good. I am sure he could have beat me if he was prepared."

Velvet smiled and nodded. "So, what do young adults like you need beans for."

Mikkal jumped up quickly to answer her question. Arends tended to get jumpy around women. "Mine lady, mine friend and myself were going to be journeying with our companion to find Hettar, son of King Cho-Hag. Could thee be as too kind to tell us where he might be staying."

"Mikkal, how would she know where Hettar would be? Plus I already.."

Velvet cut Sabre off to the point. "Of course I know. He is about 2 leagues north of this encampment with a herd of horses. If you would like, me and Silk could accompany you to him. We are headed in that direction anyway."

"Thou knowest the Sha-Dar?" Mikkal asked, looking with wonderment at the woman.

Velvet laughed a quick laugh, nodding her head quickly. "Of course I do."

"Then we should probably get our friend here", Sabre said quickly, cutting right to the point of the matter, "So we can leave as soon as you are ready."

"Good idea", Velvet agreed, "We'll have the supplies ready."

"Will, perchance, the Prince Kheldar be still angry as he is now?" Mikkal asked carefully.

"Don't worry about that," Velvet began, laughing a little wicked laugh. "I'll take care of Silk."

The two friends departed from the tent, and went off through the camp grounds to find their friend. It took them about a half of an hour until they found him, asleep in their tent with clothes all over the floor. He was wearing his normal day tunic, so it was apparent that he was having a day dream of some sort. Mikkal slowly walked up to him, and rubbed him awake.

"Come mine friend, we are going on a journey."

Garriel looked up, shaking his head clear of the fog that had just cluttered it. He nodded quickly to his friends, as he literally jumped out of bed. After a quick stretch of his arms, he was ready to go off and hear the details of today's journey.

Sabre explained to him everything that just occured, in great length. He told him of how they had gone into the merchant's sector, and met the Prince and his wife. He told smugly him how he himself had outwitted Kheldar, and got them beans for their trip. He ended it by telling him how they were going to go with Prince Kheldar and his wife to find Hettar himself, so Garriel could get some aid in riding.

They arrived at the spot where the tent was, however, the fabric dwelling was now wrapped up in bags, and put on a couple of mules for transport. Kheldar was not dressed in his beautiful robes anymore, rather he wore a couple of riding clothes, with probably a normal tunic under them. His wife, Velvet, on the other hand, looked far more extravagant.

"So this is your friend?" Velvet inquired, looking at Garriel.

"He looks awefully familliar," started Kheldar, "I just can't place where I saw him before. Might I ask you for your name?"

"My name is Garriel," he replied, straightening himself up to look important. He glanced to his sides to his friends, who were not copying his actions, and let his shoulders drop again.

"Garriel is it?" Kheldar said, rubbing the bottom of his chin. He looked hard at Garriel, as if something did not make much sense. "Well, you can call me Silk, all of my friends do."

"How many of those would you have, Kheldar?" Velvet asked her husband curiously.

"About three. I don't think I should include you though." Silk replied, smirking some at his wife.

"And why is that?" Velvet said, her voice getting harder.

"Well, I suppose wifes aren't friends," Silk said, his voice getting a little bit more sure.

"And why not?" Velvet asked, her eyes slowly becoming ice cold.

"Because that is just the way the world is made." Silk said, chuckling to himself. "One for your side," Garriel added.

"You're definately an Alorn," Silk replied. He then thought for a moment. "Do you think you would like to join me for some ale tonight?"

"Men!" Velvet cried.

Silk laughed for a couple of seconds. He then looked out to the plains, as he walked to his mule. "Well, shall we leave. Or would you rather sit around here all day making jokes?