The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

Sevha left the room and surveyed the second-floor corridor.

Befitting an inn that housed a prince, the windows and wooden floor were polished to a mirror sheen. The wide corridor held only four doors, including Duce’s.

“What are you trying to do?” Duce asked from his open doorway, but Sevha ignored him, assessing the situation.

Footsteps... five inside, a crowd outside.

Sevha rotated his arm in a wide circle, his face twisting in pain.

Any rough movement and the wound will tear open.

Sevha disliked the idea of bleeding to death almost as much as he disliked being mocked by Teresse, so he resolved to fight with minimal movement.

“D-Dan? Answer me...!”

Sevha ignored Duce again and slowly entered the room across the hall. As soon as Sevha closed the door, a masked man reached the second-floor landing.

“Clown, oh clown...”

The assailant stood before Duce’s open door, about to repeat the same words as the one who had died earlier.

But his eyes widened the moment he saw his comrade’s corpse at Duce’s feet.

“H-He’s dead? Was it you? Did you kill him?”

“I-It wasn’t me...”

Just then, Duce saw the door to the opposite room open. Sevha stepped out, his gait unhurried.

“Did you kill my brother?!”

Sevha silently approached the assailant from behind and raised his handaxe.

“Prince or not, I’ll kill—!”

Sevha brought the handaxe down on the assailant’s head. He then threw the corpse into the room he had just exited, closed the door, and dragged Duce out into the corridor.

“Stand here. Don’t move.”

Sevha said nothing more and entered the room next to Duce’s.

Another assailant arrived on the second floor. The man cackled as soon as he saw Duce and approached him.

“Why are you out here? Since you’re dancing anyway, did you want a bigger audience? I thought as much, so I’ve prepared a stage for you downstairs.”

Just as the man finished mocking Duce, the door behind him opened.

Creeak...

The door opened halfway. Sevha was inside, his handaxe already leaving his hand.

“Wai—!”

Before the man could finish his word, the handaxe flew past Duce’s shoulder and filled his vision.

The assailant’s head flew off like a crushed fruit.

Sevha wrenched the handaxe free and flung the corpse into the room he had just left.

“This time, stand here.”

Sevha positioned Duce in front of the next door, then went inside himself.

Moments later, another assailant came up to the second floor.

“What are you doing? The order was to bring the Clown Prince to the first floor at once—!”

Seeing Duce standing alone in the corridor, the assailant felt a creeping dread. He stopped talking, his eyes darting everywhere.

“W-Where did everyone go? Where are they!”

The moment he shouted, he saw it.

Blood was seeping from beneath three of the four doors.

“W-What? Wh-What happened to—!”

Tense, the man looked at the door behind Duce. He shoved Duce aside and stood before it, gripping his sword tightly.

The man sucked in a deep breath, held it, and flung the door open.

The room was empty.

The man lowered his head, exhaling in a rush of relief.

And there, reflected on the polished floor, was Sevha, calmly emerging from Duce’s room.

The moment the man turned his head, a reflection appeared in the window: Sevha swinging his handaxe sideways.

“Sav—!”

Sevha swung the handaxe sideways, and the man’s head flew from his shoulders.

Sevha pushed the corpse into the empty room and closed the door.

Then he looked at Duce, who was crumpled on the floor, and said flatly, “One left on the first floor.”

Duce stared blankly at Sevha, at the man who had just killed four men with ease. His face twisted with admiration and envy, and it was impossible to tell if he was crying or laughing.

“I envy you.”

Sevha didn’t understand why watching him kill would inspire such admiration and envy in the prince. But it was not the time to find out, so he grabbed him by the collar.

“This time, try to be of some actual help.”

Sevha dragged Duce to the top of the stairs.

“Try not to bite your tongue or break your neck.”

And he threw him down.

Duce tumbled down the stairs, landing on the first floor with a scream.

The last assailant in the inn, startled, rushed over.

“W-What’s this?”

Sevha was slowly descending the stairs. He threw his handaxe at the man’s head.

As the assailant collapsed to the floor, struck by the axe, Sevha pulled Duce to his feet.

“That’s everyone inside. Outside... still a lot of them. Let’s use the back door.”

“Won’t they be guarding the back door too?”

Sevha answered the question by hacking at the dead assailant’s neck.

Then he threw the severed head through a window.

The head shattered the glass and landed outside, followed by a scream. He could hear the assailants rushing toward the sound.

“The way should be clear now. Let’s go.”

Sevha and Duce left the inn through the back door. Outside, a labyrinth of alleys twisted between two- and three-story stone buildings.

They don’t intend to let us go easily.

Hearing the pursuers’ footsteps, Sevha tried to recall a map of his current location.

But this was his first time here, and nothing came to mind.

I’ll have to make a map of Rasseu and memorize it.

That was a task for later. For now, Sevha listened to the pursuers’ footsteps and walked in the opposite direction.

An unfamiliar path.

Ordinarily, fleeing blindly would lead to a dead end. But Sevha never encountered one.

A discarded bottle, blood spilled in a fight.

While evading the pursuers, Sevha committed the traces left throughout the alleys to memory.

Laundry strung between buildings, a fallen and shattered flowerpot.

He used these traces to find paths where people came and went, ensuring he never hit a dead end.

Cobwebs. An unbroken wooden plank.

Fleeing the sound of pursuit, Sevha moved without pause, using these signs to navigate. He reached the edge of the alleys without once being seen.

I can hear water. There’s a canal next to a main street nearby. The problem is... I won’t be able to avoid those ones.

Sevha turned his head. Three assailants were running toward him.

They must have seen the carnage at the inn; fear widened their eyes the moment they saw him.

But they raised their swords, as if determined to at least avenge their comrades.

Will my body hold up?

As soon as the thought crossed Sevha’s mind, one of the assailants rushed him and swung his sword. Sevha twisted aside to dodge, then struck the man’s leg with his handaxe, knocking him to the ground.

Just as Sevha was about to bring the handaxe down on the man’s head to finish him...

“H-Help me!”

The second assailant’s sword came down on Sevha.

Sevha threw himself backward.

The man’s sword struck the head of his fallen comrade.

Immediately after, Sevha planted his foot and swung his handaxe sideways. The assailant’s face was torn open, and he collapsed to the ground with a wet smack.

One assailant remained.

Sevha met the man’s terrified gaze. With a choked gasp, he said, “I’m... gonna die.”

He staggered back before collapsing to the ground.

“D-Dan?”

Sevha clutched his stomach and began to gasp for air.

“Sorry, but if I move anymore, I think I’ll actually die. Can you take care of the last one?”

“What?”

“Kill him. For me.”

Seeing Sevha’s poor condition, the last assailant regained his courage and approached him and Duce.

Duce, panicking, looked back and forth between Sevha and the man.

“D-Dan! I’ve never killed a person before!”

“Then it’s time for your first. Don’t want to? Then die.”

As if Sevha’s casual death sentence were a starting pistol, the assailant swung his sword at Duce.

Duce blocked it with the sword he used as a cane, but was immediately knocked down.

“What are you doing? Have you forgotten everything I taught you? If you have... well, just die.”

Seeing that Sevha truly had no intention of helping him, Duce gritted his teeth and got to his feet. He touched the tip of his sword to the ground and bent his already stooped back even lower.

Sevha saw Duce’s stance and bellowed, “I told you to properly cover your centerline with the blade!”

Duce covered the center of his face with the blade.

“Keep your eyes on the tip of your opponent’s weapon!”

Duce’s eyes wavered slightly, but he watched the tip of the assailant’s sword. The man, as if wondering what sort of game this was, glared and raised his sword.

“When he attacks, get your body lower than the tip of his weapon!”

As the man brought his sword down, Duce’s body pressed flat against the ground in a precarious posture, as if he were about to roll.

From that stance…

“And roll on the ground as you slash!”

He truly did roll across the ground, swinging his sword sideways.

As Duce dodged the attack and slashed the assailant’s leg, the man screamed and collapsed to the ground.

“This little bastard, playing games!”

The man tried to get up immediately, but he couldn’t.

“Well, not bad.”

Sevha was already swinging his handaxe at the man’s stomach. His weakness had been an act.

The axe blade struck the man’s stomach. The rıghtful source is NovєlFіre.net

“Not the face this time. I’m starting to get curious about who you people are.”

The man stared up at him, his eyes wide with resentment and realization. Then the light faded from them, and Sevha pulled off his mask.

“I’ve seen this face before... one of that stray dog’s men, isn’t he?”

Sevha understood the situation immediately and spoke to Duce.

“Your attackers are the Count’s men. It seems that fellow… Pushon, Pashon, whatever his name is… he must’ve borrowed soldiers from the Count.”

But Duce gave no answer.

“Duce?” Sevha looked over and saw him panting heavily. “What’s with you? It’s not like you did anything that amazing.”

“Shut up! It was amazing to me!”

Sevha was surprised by the uncharacteristic shout. He stared at Duce’s face and saw it was flushed with a wild joy.

Is he happy just because he fought?

Sevha watched Duce’s expression for a moment before getting up. He helped him up and led him out of the alley.

Just as Sevha had expected, there was a moonlit canal.

Sevha pushed Duce down next to a discarded barrel on the street and perched himself on top of it. He waited a moment for Duce’s excitement to subside.

“Tell me, Duce. Why would your brother’s knight borrow the Count’s power just to mock you?”

When Duce remained silent, Sevha gave him a look that said there was no point in hiding it. Sevha couldn’t have failed to notice: the assailants’ malice without killing intent, their complacency in coming up to the second floor one by one.

Having killed countless people, Sevha knew the assailants’ goal was not murder but mockery.

At Sevha’s knowing gaze, Duce’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, there’s no point in hiding it anymore.”

He began to speak, his tone more relaxed than Sevha had ever heard it.

“The reason I speak in that ridiculous way, the reason I dress my knights in absurd attire... the reason I endure things like this, it’s all for one thing.”

Duce spoke of his circumstances, of the truth.

“I am a man who can never be a knight. So if I cannot even succeed at being a clown, my father will kill me.”