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The crew began unloading scheduled deliveries and taking on expected freight, and The Chosen One disappeared into the cabin once more. He still had not spared a moment to discuss the day's events with me, and after several minutes of frustrated mulling, I followed. "What about the man in the woods?" I demanded behind the closed door. "We need to talk about what it could mean. Was he actually T—"
"Don't say his name if you can help it," the hero snapped as if he were speaking to an ignorant child. Then to my surprise, he flashed me a broad grin. "He and I go way back! A bit of a rivalry, I suppose. Not to worry."
My mouth dropped open as he stripped down to his underpinnings and began riffling around in his clothes trunk, tossing garments this way and that as they were assessed and dismissed. "W—He..." I shook my head, trying to get my fear-addled brain to function. "Not to worry?" I shouted, finding my voice at last. The sudden shrill tone startled even me, and The Chosen One jerked. "You have a rivalry with a god, and I am 'not to worry'?"
He turned to level a stare at me. "Breathe before you faint," he grumbled. He made his way to the bed with an armload of silk and linen finery. "A long while back, I had to slay someone that belonged to him. I don't think he's quite gotten over it. Gods tend to hold grudges for a long time."
I don't think my jaw could have gapped farther without unhinging from my skull. "You... you—"
"She was a dragon," he explained absently. "She developed a taste for virgin flesh and lost her ability to change back into human form." He shrugged as if he were explaining simple math. "She was a monster." He met my gaze, clearly to determine if I was following. "Huh, you're a strange pallor," he noted. "You should sit."
"You killed one of his, and you yet live?"
He nodded. "She was a monster. It is what I do. I have and had four gods," he held up four fingers to illustrate, "backing me in this endeavor, one of whom is their king." He sighed, pulling fitted leather trousers over his muscular legs with more than one grunt of effort. "It cost me, though," he grumbled unhappily.
"What?" I asked. "What great loss did you suffer, backed by half the pantheon of—"
He leveled me with another dark stare. "It cost my hair," he answered blandly. "In fact, every hair on my person save my nose, eyebrows, and lashes." He stood and began fumbling with the buttons at his long cuffs. "Burned all my skin to ash," he recounted. "Nothing remained but sinew and the sword."
My teeth clapped shut, and I frowned down at the wood floor. "I've read this story."
"Yeah," he drawled. "One of my greatest deeds." He shook his head. "When they resurrected me, I was naked as a newborn. They said my hair would grow back." He scowled at his cuff. "It never did."
I looked up at him, then shook my head and stepped forward to help with the tiny abalone buttons. "As I recall, you saved a princess. I thought it was exaggerated."
He shook his head. "No. Not in the least. Under-exaggerated more like. Had to kill that beast with no skin. Hardest slay of my life."
My fingers faltered at that thought. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt. I'd earned blisters before, mixing potions. I shuddered. "After that, and you still could wield the sword?"
He shrugged. "It's how this sort of thing works. You have to be willing to pay the price. The greater the deed, the reward, the monster... the greater the cost."
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