Olbrecht charged ahead of everyone in a cave with no source of light—yet was as well-lit as the story. Brina stayed close to him. Isolde chose to carry the harp and kept Anselm between herself and Pawel—he looked absolutely smug as the one who brought up the rear.

It was a long cave, not really anything special except that it had three tunnels at its end—the brothers must choose again.

Olbrecht stood in front the central opening—tall, wide, easy to walk through. "I am tired of this damn game. I just want to go home and stab enemies with a very sharp sword—or a practice dummy, don't care."

"You know you can't, right?" Anselm reminded him. It would be a shame to lose him this late in the quest.

Pawel butted in. "Well, you can count me toward the modest one that doesn't look like work, Ans."

"I really hate you guys, sometimes." Anselm quipped back. "I didn't want to go that route either. Crow?"

"The fate that awaits is not expecting an attack from the narrow path." The crow settled for Olbrecht's shoulder again.

"Fuck it, let's go." Ever impatient, Olbrecht turned towards the proper passage.

Something large and white barreled out of the widest tunnel and into the big man, half knocking him over before he could grab hold. The crow went flying as they almost landed on top of Brina. Eventually, the knight managed to get his feet under control and brace the creature back a hair.

"What in Fjell-og-dal is this?" The bewildered prince could barely be understood.

It was pale, goat-like, had fish scales, stood about the height of a Molossus, but most worriedly, it had a large spiral horn growing out of it's dished forehead. It's voice sounded like a cross between a goat and the nanny of their childhood. "You're not leaving without meeting me, manling."

Anselm had been feeling a bit down after saving no one from his fairy tale—this more than made up for it. He burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Powel moved closer, trying to gauge if there was a place to jump in and separate the two—not like that would do much good.

"What madness is this?"

The crow cackled. "That is a virgin sniffer."

"What?!" Pawel beat out Olbrecht by a hair in this reaction, for all that they were the same. Since the towering knight was heaving around an over-enamored unicorn, his delay was understandable.

Brina dusted herself off from where she fell and grabbed the monster by the mane, yanking it around to face her, to growl in its face, "Mine!"

It reared back, breaking contact. "Ah! He stinks of you! You reek of him! You'll taint him, break his worth, you cow!"

Everyone but Anselm stared at Brina in confusion—he alone fell over, laughing too hard to stay upright. She shrugged, without a blush. "It was my stall mate most years."

Olbrecht was beet red, and found himself leaning against the cave wall, in need of a change of subject. "Why didn't it go after you two idiots?"

Pawel quirked an eyebrow, "I'm the heir to a kingdom and still single at 30. What do you think happened? Half the court has tried to sneak into my bed since Anselm was in diapers. I'm more curious about how the fool lost his."

By that point their fool was exhausted, staring at the ceiling with his arms over his head, as if he fell that way and couldn't be bothered to move. "I'm sure the other half the court tried to manipulate a fool since I was in diapers, but our nanny was decent at keeping them out of our rooms. If they weren't so blatantly treating me like an imbecile, I dare say I'd have married the day I came of age. I've no interest in being alone on that battlefield."

That surprised both his brothers, as they thrived without a partner—extending their power to a woman who merely didn't treat them like they were dumb? They wouldn't worry if they realized that they were as pitiful in their own way. The eldest who couldn't settle because everyone was fake and too stupid to hide it, the middle who scared even his own shadow and was until now fated to an arranged marriage or celibacy, forget the boy who couldn't be recognized for his true worth.

Olbrecht sighed as he gave a hand to Anselm. "We don't have time for this."

He let himself be pulled upright, slightly wincing at the punch to the side, where the plates were tied together—typical brotherly affection. "Crow, what is in there?"

"A large corrupted funnel spider—the web is not sticky, fairly low ceiling, enough room for it to turn around and attack from any direction."

Olbrecht pursed his lips as he thought about it. "Alright, Pawel, you stick by me and I'll strike one of it's hind legs. You follow the rear and I'll keep it focused on me. Ans, you'll take the harp, climb the ropes and smash that axe into its head."

"And what of us?" Isolde asked.

Pawel smirked, the kind of look that you'd expect condescension from. Both women tensed, looking ready to smack the man. "Without a weapon or armor, you'd be a liability. I am sure women throughout history have handled more spiders than men. We aren't trying to steal your role."

That earned him a smack from Isolde, but even that light hit caused her to shake her hand as she grumbled to herself. Pawel took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Please don't hurt yourself over my folly. I am serious about you not being dressed to fight. Besides, between luck and talent, I'm the first one to die out there."

They were so close to kissing that Anselm deliberately fake gagged, as a good brother should.

Brina leaned over toward Olbrecht. "You know I've handled a sword before."

He smiled at her kindly. "As soon as this is over, I intend for you to hold one again."

The blush that spread across her face was delicate and faint. Her eyes became enormous. "I didn't mean that one!"

It took a moment before Olbrecht caught on, choked on his tongue, then turned beet red before stumbling into their chosen path—to get away from innuendo.