HOOTERS

SHAMBAYATI

Between the unrest in the village and King Aurel’s mounting paranoia, something big was expected. But Arthur, the youngest of the royal trio and by far the most unpredictable, had seen enough. Bloodshed, betrayal, flaming lakes, and brotherly homicide. So one morning, before the sun could finish unzipping the sky, Arthur slipped out of the palace.

No explosion. No magic portal. Just one man, one mission: Disappear.

To blend in, Arthur grew a beard. Not just any beard; a thick, dark, “Ho-ho-ho, you shall not pass” kind of beard. Cloaked beneath his new look and a suspiciously mysterious cloak, Arthur ventured into the village, determined to live like a normal person. No spells, no thrones, just Shambayati, his new name that sounded made up enough to sound cool in a Netflix fantasy series.

He lived. He learned. He failed at practically everything. He milked goats backwards.

He got slapped by chickens.

But slowly, awkwardly, Arthur stopped being Arthur. He became Shambayati. The villagers thought he was just another bearded lunatic who talked to birds and paid for things with silver. No one questioned the way wolves sat politely outside his hut like trained dogs

Back at the palace, Aurel couldn’t care less until his advisors reminded him that disappearing brothers don’t look good in history books. So he ordered a kingdom-wide search. For months, guards scoured fields, forests, and forgotten taverns. All in vain.

Why?

Because Arthur wasn’t just hiding. He had enchanted himself with the ancient wisdom of fallen hooters—yes, literal grave knowledge—and cloaked his presence so thoroughly even flies ignored him. Eventually, the searches died out. He was, to put it poetically: unfindable and unbothered.

And then she happened.

Widowed. wounded. woman of wonder.

Shambayati couldn’t take his eyes off her. She didn’t sparkle, she glowed. Something in her presence tugged at him, like a spell he forgot he cast. She was Pearl. Shambayati was definitely not the only captivated by her and the reason; Well, she did have artistically sculpted curves and a mamma that refused to apologize but the grief in her eyes was enough to deter anyone.

Despite the runaway’s usual lack of romantic finesse (Arthur was many things, but smooth was not one of them), he pursued her. And somehow, miraculously, he got her.

Maybe it was the beard.

Maybe it was the hooter wisdom. Maybe it was the fact that his presence whispered Arche a little bit.

Or maybe it was fate, setting them up for the biggest emotional explosion in Eldrathian history.

What he didn’t know yet was this: Pearl was the very woman caught with Arche the night of his execution. The same Arche who was Arthur’s older brother.

The same Arche Arthur loved.

The same Arche who burned for Pearl and dove into fire for her.

But the village didn’t talk. Eldrathians weren’t gossips.

So Shambayati never learned the truth. Pearl tried to tell him once. Maybe twice. But Arthur, now enchanted by desire and terrified of losing the warmth he found, always changed the subject or distracted her thoroughly.

All he knew was: she was recently "widowed" and wanted to take it slow.

Spoiler: They didn’t.

Their “getting to know each other” phase quickly became an unholy mix of passion, denial, and pillow talk. Eventually, Shambayati revealed he was a sorcerer "but nothing serious” Pearl didn’t mind. She was too busy falling again. For a while, it was perfect.

For a while, they believed they could outlove a kingdom’s curse.

Then one drunken night, after too much wine and one too many dances by firelight, they were spotted by Aurel’s spies. Captured and thrown into a cart, they passed out cold from intoxication. Hours later, they awoke, groggy and confused… surrounded by mice. Not soldiers. Not guards.

Mice. And not just any mice. Talking, trembling, very confused ex-soldiers.

Turns out, in his drunken state, Shambayati had accidentally turned the royal spies into rodents.

They didn’t believe it at first

Until it happened again the next night when they were caught by another set of spies

After that, the couple shrugged, laughed, and kept living their happily-drunk-ever-after, occasionally waking up to mouse droppings and half-muttered squeaks.

But peace in Eldrathia is always rented.

And the deadline?

Fast approaching.

Because the king may have stopped searching…

…but he never stopped watching