Medurio held his head as the two bothersome men casually conversed at his side. After Scrulo had allowed Siegfried to follow them without his consent, he had begun explaining Medurio’s situation to the man. It was beyond aggravating, as if the gods decided that having Scrulo follow him was not enough punishment. They served no purpose but to pass half hidden insults at him while he, unassisted, strained to pull a full bucket up from the well. They had found the nearest one in the gardens, through a small path between a patch of flowers, the only part of the journey which he enjoyed.

“Ah, Medurio.” Siegfried taunted as Medurio failed to ignore him. “Quite an unfortunate thing you have done to yourself. But don’t think for a second that I will let the inquisition catch you!”

Turning his head towards him, Medurio could only grunt in confusion.

Siegfried shrugged. “Think about it. How would I have my revenge if they caught you?” Medurio thought about it and only grew more confused. “The inquisition avenges the gods, but the gods will give you justice when you reach them. So while you are here, I intend to give you my justice! You tarnished my honor! Before they take you I intend to best you myself, to prove to you how much of a fool you are!” He approached Medurio and slammed a hand onto the well’s railing. Glaring straight into his eyes, he delivered his final threat, “That is why I intend on keeping you alive, so that I may have my revenge.”

Scrulo joined Medurio in being puzzled. He shook his head in a haughty manner. “Perhaps you could find some use in philosophy, friend. Revenge is a pointless cycle, it would be much more productive for you to channel your anger elsewhere.”

Siegfried harrumphed, “keep your philosophy to yourself. All I care about is showing him,“ he pointed to Medurio, “his place. And if I have to do it more than once so be it, he deserves nothing less.”

“A simple minded goal, but I expected no more from a soldier’s son.” Scrulo scoffed.

Siegfried spun in Scrulo’s direction. “Was that supposed to be insulting?” His tone was now tipped with a slight edge.

Arms crossed, Scrulo stood his ground. “Just a simple observation.”

“I hope so, because I did not join you to change my outlook. Keep it between yourself and Medurio.”

Medurio watched them bicker with amusement. “Better yet, keep it to yourself,” he said with a smirk.

Scrulo looked at them with disappointment. “Honestly, you two make quite the arrogant duo. But no, I will not stay quiet. My life’s purpose is to spread the words of Quintinus and those who followed him.

Medurio and Siegfried looked at eachother, defeated. “Better to do than not do I suppose,” Siegfried said before turning to Scrulo, “How is that for a philosophy?”

Scrulo could only continue to shake his head as Medurio finally pulled the bucket onto the rim of the well.

After filling up his cup, Medurio dug for the translated text in his bag. He looked for the next ingredient, wine. Skimming over the rest of the ingredients, it seemed that each would be harder to find then the last. Wine was a commodity with high demand, but was far from rare for the nation of Terra Bendisato. Furthermore, he could think of few nations that did not deal in wine, perhaps it was universal culture?

“What is next?” Scrulo asked stiffly.

Scrulo and Siegfried tried their best to look away from one another. Medurio spent this moment to bask in the temporary silence. It had been an overly long wait before anyone answered Scrulo’s question. “Wine,” Medurio answered.

Siegfried spoke, calmer than before, “Easy enough, you could likely walk into any place and they would have it.” He turned to Scrulo, “Care to visit that one place again?”

Scrulo was still upset, but hardly showed it. “Aye, I only have a few coins on me but I doubt we will use them all.”

“A spoonful,” Medurio stated. “Maybe we can cut one of those coins in half to afford it. The writer did not specify what type of wine he wanted either, we could take the cheapest thing they have.”

“No harder than collecting water,” Siegfried said. “I know who serves drinks around this time, we are far from friends but he is quite easy-going. Come,” He began to walk back to the main path, waving for them to follow. “I’ll lead you there.”

The sky was a dark blue, signalling the moon’s nearing arrival. The pale city streets were crowded at this time of day. On both sides, tall buildings of brown, yellow, or white were scattered about the many hills of the land. Crowds of people crossed between each other in every imaginable direction, adding detail to the city’s color through their expensive fabrics. This was the capital of Terra Bendisato, where from any distance one could see the thin tower of the Holy Order piercing the heavens.

Medurio would have enjoyed this outing, if it were not for his nervous vigilance and the two men at his side who spoke without filter of him

“So how exactly was this rivalry of yours spawned?” Scrulo asked Siegfried who walked eagerly with a smile.

Siegfried scrunched his face, “Well if you really care to know… It was during the entrance examination.”

“Hmm,” Scrulo muttered, appalled. “A cheat as well then?”

“Of the sort,” he shrugged. “It was during the fencing matches.”

Scrulo became confused. “Fencing?”

“Aye, I didn’t realize that it was possible. I suppose that’s why he was able to pull it off”

Medurio looked at the two with annoyance, “I don’t see how that is cheating. Fencing is the sport of outwitting your opponent is it not?”

Siegfried harshly shook his head. “No, that is for duels, brawls, battles. Fencing is purely a match of skill. You could try to outwit your opponent in some cases, but what you did…”

“Was me besting yo-”

“Was you being a pure cheat! Stop interrupting!”

Medurio waved him to continue, deciding that speaking would only return exasperating results.

Siegfried turned back to Scrulo, “Medurio and I had been paired for a match, equally equipped, on a square filled with sand. We were watched by an instructor who was clearly meant to prevent this happening, but that was obviously not the case.”

“The instructor let him cheat?” Scrulo asked with a tone of surprise.

“No, he did not let Medurio cheat. He had fooled not only me but the instructor as well, sly bastard.”

“Go on!” Scrulo said with a bit of excitement.

“Right in the middle of the match this man, this little scheming devil reaches down to the sand. I thought he was going to pick it up, so in defense I covered my eyes. But he didn’t pick it up, his hands were touching it but he didn’t pick it up. Then he acts as if he were going to throw it right at my face, so I flinch. The instructor says nothing, thinks he’s jesting but he’s not. He lunged at me, but it looked more like he was throwing himself. Then he thrusts with enough strength to throw himself off balance. Came so fast that I had no time to recover.” He shook his head in shame. “Instructor tried to punish him but this tricky bastard said that he was stretching. It looked nothing like stretching!”

Scrulo exhaled in disappointment, “Did you not think to report it?”

“Oh I reported it. Went right to the overseer of entries. After hearing what the instructor saw he gave me a smirk and waved me off. The nerve!”

“Well that could have gone no worse. Good you were still accepted at the least.”

Siegfried gritted his teeth. “Sure, but not for showing off what I am good at. And you want to know what Medurio told me when I confronted him? That he had simply bested me!” He threw his arms in the air dramatically.

The two men now glared at Medurio who was trying his best not to pay attention, but had heard most of what was said anyways. “You are the most mischievous of men.” Scrulo told him. “And it seems you are yet to learn your lesson. But you will learn.”

The two continued to glare at him as he continued to feign ignorance. Medurio had been worn out by them. Perhaps he did feel that he had done awful things. Though, his mind was still set on believing that he had broken no rules, at least until now. Thankfully, Siegfried spoke of other things the rest of the way. “Nevermind that, we're here.” All three men looked at the thin, brown, two story building where loud voices emanated.

Medurio was suddenly wary upon realizing that he had never been to a house of drink before. His father, as a man of the cloth, had always been quick to deny him when he had asked to go with his hometown friends. Now, he had his chance and suddenly wished that he could have the time to appreciate it. Etched into a bronze plaque above the door was the name, The Lounging Wolf.