The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

A whisper of sound drifted through the nameless forest beyond Garde Castle. A soft footfall alighting among the trees.

Beside Sevha stood a man whose face was wrapped in bandages, only burn scars visible between the wrappings.

“Fortress Commander Baren of Two Talons Fortress. Fifty-seven Hunters under my command. We have answered your call, My Lord Count.”

Sevha answered without looking at him. “Has it been long, Baren?”

“It has. Long enough for the families we had to be gone.”

Sensing the emptiness in Baren’s voice, Sevha said, “Do not think of home on the hunting grounds.”

Baren exhaled slowly, a cold acceptance in his voice. “Your orders.”

Only then did Sevha look forward.

Achuk stood dripping blood, his eyelids and nose shorn from his face. Behind him, the Tusk Tribe waited, weapons and torches in hand.

Seeing the Hunters—the Hawks—Achuk and his tribe began to breathe heavily.

In contrast, Sevha and the Hunters slowly quieted their own breaths.

Amidst the leaves illuminated by torches, the breathing of the Tusk Tribe grew louder, more ragged.

Across from them, where only darkness lay, the breathing of the Hunters grew quieter, then vanished.

The stronger the breaths exhaled by the Tusk Tribe, the brighter the torches burned.

The more the Hunters’ breaths vanished, the deeper the darkness grew.

The searing light and the abyssal darkness met head-on, then mingled.

Sevha and the Hunters burst from the shadows, leaping into the light and falling upon the Tusks.

Achuk roared. The Tusks hurled their torches to the ground and swung their weapons at the Hunters.

Clang!

The moment Sevha’s handaxe and Achuk’s greatsword collided, the weapons of the Hunters and the Tusks clashed as well.

Sparks flew as Sevha took a step back.

Simultaneously, the Hunters melted into the darkness between the trees.

“Hawwwk!”

As Achuk brought his greatsword down on Sevha, the Tusks plunged into the darkness in pursuit.

Sevha dodged the greatsword, and the sounds of fighting echoed from the unlit gloom. Then he leaped backward, disappearing from the torchlight into the shadows.

Achuk took a few steps forward, only for Sevha to burst out from behind him, swinging his handaxe.

Achuk spun to block the axe and kicked Sevha in the stomach.

Sevha rolled with the blow, vanishing into the darkness once more.

Achuk blinked, and Sevha lunged from the shadows at his side, grabbing his legs and tumbling with him.

As Achuk fell, Sevha brought his handaxe down toward his head.

Achuk blocked it by turning his greatsword flat, then shoved him away.

Sevha disappeared into the darkness again.

And again.

Clang!

He attacked Achuk, weaving continuously between darkness and light.

Achuk stood only within the light, fending him off.

The torchlit ground was a ballroom stage, and the fight between Sevha and Achuk was a forest ball.

A feast of beasts, of hawk and wolf.

Clang!

Under Sevha’s relentless pressure, blood burst from where Achuk’s eyelids and nose had been.

Achuk unleashed a resounding roar.

In his wake, sparks flew wildly from the darkness beyond the torchlight. The faces of the Tusks came into view, wounded but filled with ecstasy.

In that moment, Sevha knew. I don’t know why, but he’s changed again, just like last time.

But he would likely never again have the chance to fight such a small force of the Carved Tusk Tribe. He might never again have the chance to push Achuk this far.

So Sevha cried, “Volley!”

A hail of arrows flew past the ecstatic faces of the Tusks and descended upon Achuk.

He roared and swung his greatsword in a great arc. The pressure of wind itself shattered the arrows, sending their fragments raining down.

It was then that Sevha charged through the falling shards, closing in on Achuk.

He swung his handaxe with all his might at Achuk’s chest, left wide open from the sweep of his greatsword.

Achuk, following shattered reason and boiling instinct, pulled his body back.

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Fragments of the broken arrows pattered to the ground.

The flames of the torches on the forest floor leaped onto the fallen shards, brightly illuminating Sevha and Achuk.

The handaxe Sevha held was buried in the earth.

Achuk’s chest was torn open.

As Sevha pulled his handaxe from the ground…

Splurt!

…blood erupted from the wound in Achuk’s chest.

It was a mortal wound. He would die even with immediate treatment.

But Achuk only staggered for a few steps before planting his feet firmly. He gave a crazed laugh and walked toward Sevha.

Sevha thought of the Carved Tusk tribesmen at the castle, who did not fear death.

He had a premonition that his struggle with Achuk was not yet over.

“Right. One win, one loss. A shame it’s not over, but it would be a shame if it ended like this, too.”

Just as Sevha bolstered his resolve, the Carved Tusks saw Achuk’s condition and cried out in unison, as if panicked. They grabbed Achuk and began to drag him back.

Achuk swung his greatsword as if to tell them not to interfere, killing several of his own.

Still, the tribe continued to restrain him.

They don’t fear their own deaths, but they fear his.

Suddenly.

“Sevha!”

Teresse’s voice came from behind him.

Achuk and the Tusk Tribe stopped dead, their eyes fixed on whatever was behind Sevha.

What did they see?

Before Sevha could turn to find the answer, Achuk smiled.

It was not a crazed smile but an ecstatic one, like that of a man who had heard the voice of a god, of a man who had fallen in love.

A few of the Carved Tusks shouted something, their expressions mirroring Achuk’s.

At that, Achuk shoved his men away and spoke, his gaze fixed on the space behind Sevha.

“Princess… sent… Avatar. She acknowledge… our fight.”

Achuk looked toward the moon, which was not yet full.

“As same Avatar… I… follow Princess will. On perfect day… when Princess most beautiful… I claim.”

Finally, Achuk looked at Sevha.

“Then, I come. For you, for Princess.”

With only those words, Achuk and the Tusks fled into the forest.

“Should we pursue?” Baren asked.

Sevha replied, “We can’t pursue when we don’t even know why they’re retreating.”

Teresse’s voice came again from behind.

“Sevha!”

It was followed by the frantic neighing of a horse.

When Sevha turned, he saw Toto charging toward them like a mad thing, carrying a rider.

He called out, “Riding like that in a forest will get you—”

“Hey, why aren’t you listening to me!”

Before Sevha could finish his warning, Toto saw a tree root in its path and wisely came to a screeching halt.

The person on Toto’s back screamed and went flying from the saddle, straight toward Sevha.

He sighed, caught the person in his arms, and came face-to-face with her.

“What are you doing here, Teresse?”

Teresse’s eyes were wide, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her shock not yet subsided.

A moment later, she came to her senses, met Sevha’s gaze, and cleared her throat awkwardly.

“It was a teleportation spell.”

Sevha wordlessly dropped her on the ground.

“Ow! Is that any way to treat the person who came to save you?”

“If it hurts, use a healing spell,” Sevha retorted icily.

Teresse puffed out her cheeks. Then, as if giving up, she let out a long breath.

She said, “Soldiers are on their way. The Carved Tusk Tribe?”

“They’re gone.”

“Why?”

Sevha looked her over. Black hair, red eyes, a voluptuous figure.

He muttered, “Because of your… figure, I guess?”

“What?”

Unable to find a better answer, Sevha just shrugged.

“What does it matter? He’ll be back.”

He gazed toward the moon and finished his thought.

“On the night of the full moon.”

***

In the army camp, Sevha was perched on a crate, basking in the sunlight.

Beside him stood Teresse and Legra; before him, Eshu and Tataka.

Soaking in the sun, Sevha grimaced and asked the question he had been avoiding.

“The situation?”

Teresse answered immediately, “We’re ruined.”

Sevha let out a heavy sigh, but Teresse paid him no mind and continued.

“Thanks to my brilliant command—”

“Thanks to me raising all hell.”

“—we minimized the damage, but most of the Blanc Knights are injured, and we lost many warhorses.”

“The conclusion?”

Teresse stated it bluntly.

“With our current strength, it will be exceedingly difficult to defeat the Carved Tusk Tribe. They possess enough power to crush the Count’s army.”

They had minimized their losses, but they had not escaped them.

Immediately, Eshu dropped to both knees before Sevha.

“It is all my fault, My Lord Marquis.”

At Eshu’s self-reproach, Teresse spoke with even less concern than she had shown Sevha.

“That’s right. It is his fault.”

Sevha sighed again, even more heavily than before. “And so?”

“My Lord, you must punish me. If you do not, discipline will collapse.”

Sevha countered, “And if I punish you, it will be restored? No, the knights will only resent me.”

Teresse added, “Both points are valid, so give him a fitting punishment.”

“A fitting punishment… Legra. In Anse, what do they do for a fitting punishment?”

Legra thought for a moment before answering, “They make you harvest a beehive, naked.”

“Barbarians…” Teresse muttered.

“If you scream while doing it, you have to get another one.”

“Barbarians!”

Sevha ignored Teresse’s scolding and considered what punishment to give Eshu.

Then he saw Tataka and, beyond him, the tents of the Tusks and the humans.

“Tataka,” Sevha began.

“Hm.”

“By any chance, are there any pretty maidens among the Broken Tusks?”

Tataka grinned. “Of course there are.”

As soon as he heard the answer, Sevha said to Eshu, “You will lie with a maiden.”

“Pardon?”

“Get into bed with a fair maiden of these Tusks and create a future knight.”

Understanding dawned, and Eshu’s face went pale.

“M-My Lord Marquis!”

“What? I’m not telling you to marry her.”

“Th-That’s not the point!” Eshu sputtered.

Sevha jabbed his forehead with a finger. “Sir Knight.”

At that formal address, Eshu’s expression immediately became grave, solemn, and reverent.

“Yes. I will accept my punishment.”

He then rose and turned his back.

“Where are you going?” Sevha called out.

“To cleanse my body. I will return shortly.”

“Ah, erm, uh-huh. Do that.”

Sevha watched silently as Eshu departed for the barracks with the grim determination of a knight marching to war.

Then he spoke casually to Tataka.

“Find a Tusk man, dress him up crudely as a woman, and send him to Eshu’s tent. As soon as Eshu takes his clothes off, collapse the tent and make him a laughingstock. If the knight commander makes a fool of himself first, it should improve relations with the tribe.”

“If we dress him crudely, he won’t be fooled. We should put some effort into it.”

“I think he’d be fooled either way.”

Sevha and Tataka met each other’s gaze, then burst out laughing.

Watching them, Legra smiled.

Teresse tilted her head and asked the boy, “Why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know what happened, but Lord Sevha’s heart seems more at ease than before.”

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached—heavy, yet soulless.

Teresse turned and saw Baren and his Hunters walking toward them.

Tataka’s expression immediately hardened, and Legra grew tense.

“Witch.”

“What is it, Legra?”

Legra subtly pushed Teresse behind him.

“Lord Sevha’s brother, Lord Edgar, was said to be so open-minded it was hard to believe he was of the Anse Tribe. That’s probably why Lord Sevha is at least somewhat open-minded himself.”

“And?”

Legra looked at Baren and the Hunters. “Those men are different. They’re true Anse.”

The moment Legra finished speaking, Baren stood before Sevha. He placed his index and middle fingers over his left breast.

“Good morning, My Lord Count.”

“It doesn’t matter now, but in front of those who don’t know I am of Dan Anse, call me Marquis.”

Baren nodded, then glanced at Tataka, dismissing him instantly. His gaze moved to Legra.

“You… you look like someone.”

His face full of tension, Legra answered, “I am Legra, grandson of Yuska.”

The next instant, Teresse saw it: the look of disgust that filled the eyes of Baren and his Hunters.

“The grandson of the Wing-Clipped Hawk?”

“Y-Yes, that’s right. But—”

Legra stammered, intimidated by Baren’s stare.

Sevha spoke for him. “When I escaped Anse, I executed Yuska with Legra and Teresse.”

Immediately, the eyes of Baren and the Hunters curved with mirth.

Baren went a step further, ruffling Legra’s hair enthusiastically.

“Executing a traitor… how admirable!”

“Yes, sir. In the Frost Mountains, G-Grandfather was…”

“Grandfather? He was a traitor!”

“Oh, yes. O-Of course. A t-traitor, a traitor…”

Legra seemed unable to bring himself to call Yuska a traitor.

Teresse interjected, “Traitor or wing-clipped whatever, to Legra, that man was his grandfather.”

Baren stared at her. “And you are?”

“Teresse.”

“Are you Anse?”

“No. I am a citizen of the Empire.”

The Hunters drew their weapons.

Faster than them, Baren lunged, bringing a dagger down toward Teresse.

Legra threw his arms around her and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Enough.”

Sevha caught Baren’s wrist, stopping the blade.

The eyes visible between Baren’s bandages slowly moved to look at Sevha.

“Why do you stop me, My Lord?”

“Why should I not?”

Baren’s mouth opened wide, drool trickling down.

“She said she is of the Empire!”

“And?”

“She said she is of the Empire!”

“And?”

“She is one of the Imperial dogs that killed my wife and children in Anse Castle!”

Baren roared, the torn scarf around his neck fluttering.

Then, a brief silence.

Baren looked at Sevha’s bare neck, a neck that did not wear the scarf that was the symbol of an Anse Hunter.

“Have you, perhaps, already forgotten Anse?”

Sevha twisted the arm he held. Baren’s body spun once through the air before he landed in a heap before his Hunters.

“Forgotten? You’re the one who has forgotten the iron rule an Anse Hunter must uphold.”

Baren raised his head from the ground. He couldn’t quite understand what had just happened.

Sevha stood before him.

“I have not forgotten. I do not wish to forget, nor can I.”

He leaned slightly toward Baren.

And, like a wolf, he bared his teeth.

“Stand. I will tear the broken skin from your face and slap it back on you.”