Disenchanted Read Online Free PDF

same litter as those they sent against the Ytriskians at Fort Behrn last spring, no doubt. The ogre broke fast with the infants of Plik and will dine on the whelps of Skaal!”
     Some disapproving mutters arose from the group. “Perhaps you should watch your tongue, Daman,” said the merchant.
    “An ogre plucks our children from their nurseries while they sleep and you take offense at mere talk!” spat the blacksmith.
    Another man, who had been sitting alone in a corner, strode forward. He was tall and sturdily built, and wore a cloak with a hood that obscured his features.
    “Seems that there is plenty of talk to be had,” said the man. “What is needed is action.”
    “And what action do you propose, stranger?” asked the merchant.
    “I propose to hunt down this ogre and kill him,” said the man, flipping back his hood. He was a young man with soft features and curly blond hair. Boric thought he seemed familiar, but couldn’t place him.
    “And who might you be, little boy?” asked the blacksmith.
    “My name is Corbet. Crown Prince of Skaal.”
    Could it be? thought Boric. He had met Corbet some five years earlier, when they were both just children. He remembered Corbet being something of a spoiled brat.
    “My lord!” cried the men, falling to their knees. “Forgive us,” said the merchant. “We didn’t know it was you. We heard that the Skaal had sent men…”
    “Hmph,” said the prince. “A token detachment of soldiers traveling from town to town, hoping to scare the ogre back to Ytriskian territory with sheer drunken bluster. They’ll never find the ogre, which is lucky for them, because the ogre would tear them to pieces. An operation like this requires some sophistication…and a knowledge of the local terrain. To your feet, gentlemen.”
    “I know this area like the back of my hand, m’lord!” exclaimed the merchant excitedly, as they got to their feet. Then, belatedly realizing what he was volunteering for, he added, “Perhaps I could draw you a map?”
    “Nay, friend,” bellowed the blacksmith, slapping the merchant on the back. “You’ll be our guide. And I shall be Prince Corbet’s second in command. We’ll find this brute and cut out his liver, by Varnoth!” With this, he hoisted his flagon, raining beer on several nearby patrons.
    “Pardon my friend,” said the merchant. “He’s had quite a lot to drink this evening. He doesn’t know what he is saying.”
    “Quite all right,” said the prince. “I admire his enthusiasm. You know, I had intended to hunt the ogre alone, but I do need someone who knows the area. I won’t argue if you insist on accompanying me.”
    The merchant smiled weakly.
    At this, Boric finished his beer and walked over to the men. “I will,” he said.
    “You’ll what, Messenger?” demanded Corbet.
    “Argue,” said Boric. “You can’t take these men into the mountains to hunt an ogre. You’ll get them killed. But any fool would know that, so I can only assume you plan to use them as bait. Send your ‘guides’ on ahead to be devoured by the monster and then sneak up behind him with your rib-sticker there.”
    The merchant’s pink cheeks went a few shades paler. The blacksmith seemed confused as to what was transpiring.
    “I’ll not brook this sort of insolence from a mere messenger!” Corbet growled, hand on the hilt of his sword. “On your knees, lad!”
    “What you don’t seem to realize,” Boric went on, “is that while ogres can’t see very well, their sense of smell is better than a hunting dog’s. That ogre will smell your perfumed soaps a mile away, m’lord. Your only hope to escape is if he is overcome by nausea at your scent.”
    “Let’s see if you can remain on your feet when your head is no longer attached to your neck!” exclaimed Corbet, making to draw his sword.
    “Wait!” shouted the proprietor of the tavern, who had been watching the proceedings with detached interest. “Please, not inside!”
    Corbet