The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

Sevha stood before his office window, watching the castle grounds. Among the people going about their usual work, Legra and Vanadia were walking, carrying baggage.

Legra, in a pointless show of bravado, was struggling with a load twice the size of Vanadia’s.

He really likes her.

The sight of the two had become routine since the festival ended.

Vanadia worked under Teresse, hiding her crystal horn and tattoos to pass as one of the other races. In her spare time, she received instruction from Teresse… though Sevha did not know precisely what she was being taught.

Hope it goes well for them.

After watching them for a moment longer, Sevha decided it was time to get to work. He turned from the window, his expression hardening.

Teresse was seated at the office desk. Duce and Charlotte sat on a sofa, the Knight of Ornament standing behind them. Sevha took the opposite sofa and got straight to the point.

“Duce. The king has ordered us to the Royal Capital.”

Duce wore the expression of a man who knew the inevitable had arrived.

Teresse explained in more detail. “To be precise, we’ve received an invitation to the king’s Birthday Festival. One we cannot refuse.”

The polite tone Teresse reserved for Duce was, to Sevha, faintly amusing. The corner of his mouth lifted.

Duce’s face, in contrast, was etched with tension.

“I have never been invited to the Birthday Festival before,” he said. “That is why I am worried.”

Sensing the ominous intent behind the invitation, Sevha replied lightly, as if to dismiss the concern. “Weren’t we planning to meet him for a proper talk anyway? I had to see him at least once to have my succession as marquis fully recognized.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

As Duce’s tension eased slightly, Teresse shared what she had learned about the festival.

“During this Birthday Festival, a Great Hunt will be held, with all members of the royal family and all the king’s vassals in attendance.”

“A Great Hunt?” Duce exclaimed.

Charlotte looked from Teresse to her husband. “Duce, what is a Great Hunt? Why are you so surprised?”

“It is a traditional event of the White Horse Knights, the predecessor to the kingdom. A hunting competition.”

“Hunting competitions are common enough for nobles,” Sevha said. “What’s there to be surprised about?”

Hunting competitions on the continent typically involved releasing large numbers of beasts, with participants competing for the largest prey.

Duce explained the difference.

“The White Horse Knights were the Holy Emperor’s elite force. To prove their strength, they held their hunts not with beasts but with monsters.”

The thought of fighting monsters made Duce tense again.

But Sevha, imagining the spectacle, smiled brightly. “Sounds entertaining.”

Duce sighed, unable to comprehend the mind of a hunting fanatic.

Teresse, perhaps not wanting to see Sevha so pleased, spoke up, wiping the smile from his face. “A normal noble’s hunt uses a great many beaters, Marquis.”

Sevha’s mood soured at once. “You mean I just have to put an arrow into prey the beaters have already cornered? That’s no longer interesting.”

“Since the prey will be monsters, we will need to bring a large force to act as beaters.”

“Why bring so many? A moderate number is all we need.”

“Marquis. Prince. This Great Hunt is a rare opportunity to move a large force near the Royal Capital without arousing suspicion.”

Sevha and Duce paused.

I haven’t even told her of Duce’s resolve, yet she’s already figured it out.

With their forces nearby, the king would be less likely to openly harm Duce. And in the event they needed to usurp the throne, they could move quickly.

Sevha exchanged a look of mutual understanding with Duce, then said, “The Blanc Knights, the Broken Tusk Tribe’s elite, and the Hunters of Anse. We will take them.”

“I, too, will bring my knights,” Duce added.

As the two men decided on their forces, Charlotte spoke up. “I shall accompany you as well.”

“You don’t have to.” Duce objected. He had yet to tell his family of his intentions.

But Charlotte replied as if she already knew his resolve. “You will need every bit of strength you can muster, will you not? If things should go awry, the retainers we leave behind in the territory will see to our children and plan for the future.”

Duce took Charlotte’s hand and nodded, his expression a mixture of apology and gratitude.

“I will go as well,” Teresse said. “And I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?” Sevha asked.

Teresse replied with the smile of a child plotting mischief.

“Yes. A proposal to show the present might of Blanc to the other nobles gathering in the Royal Capital. The other Four Knight Families.”

***

To the east, west, south, and north of the capital city, Jerom, lie the territories of the Four Knights.

The Oleng Territory, west of Jerom. A village in the lands ruled by the Knight of the Sword.

In the middle of the village stood a man of about Sevha’s age. He did not look as young as Sevha, yet he radiated a childlike purity.

Beside him stood an old man in ornate priestly vestments.

At the old man’s words, the man broke into a joyful smile.

“Is it true, Cardinal? Is the Great Hunt truly happening?”

The old man, the Cardinal of Jershu, regarded him with the fondness of a grandfather for his grandson. “Yes. Both I and you, my lord, have been invited.”

“How exciting! I can see my uncle for the first time in a while… and the Knight of the Shield! I’ll get to see the new Knight of the Shield, won’t I?”

“Of course. So finish up here quickly and return to the castle to prepare.”

The man nodded eagerly, full of anticipation, and looked ahead. Before him lay the corpses of Beastkin, beings with the ears and tails of animals.

Among the bodies stood a single male survivor.

“What did we do to deserve this?” the Beastkin wailed. “Why did you kill them all?”

The man blinked a few times, as if not understanding his anger. “Cardinal? What did these people do to be killed by me?”

The Cardinal answered affectionately, like a benevolent grandfather correcting a small mistake. “People? Where were there any people here? Have I not taught you that those who are not of the human race are not people?”

“Yes!”

“And have I not also taught you that what is not a person is evil?”

“Oh, that’s right!”

The moment he answered with a bright smile, the man closed the distance to the Beastkin in an instant and brought his longsword down.

A flash, and the Beastkin’s body split vertically, blood erupting from the gash.

“Cardinal! I’ve killed them all, so let’s go back to the castle!”

The man was drenched in blood, yet he smiled radiantly, as though he had done a noble deed. The Cardinal watched him with misty eyes, like a grandfather proud of his grandson’s growth.

“Yes. Let us return, Angke.”

His name was Angke de Oleng—Guardian of Heaven and Holy Knight of the Sword.

***

The Netherven Territory, north of Jerom. A road in the lands ruled by the Knight of the Lance.

A luxurious carriage was traveling down the road. Inside, a handsome, long-haired man was elegantly combing his hair while speaking with a knight.

“So, a Great Hunt is to be held. Ah! To think I must partake in such a barbaric affair. My late father would weep.”

The man’s movements and tone possessed an elegance that bordered on the perverse.

“And they say that hideous hunchback was invited as well, so I will be seeing my younger sister for the first time in a long while.”

At the thought of his sister, the man stopped combing his hair. A flicker of anxiety crossed his face, and he began to bite his nails.

He muttered neurotically, “How dare she leave me? Me!”

Just then, the carriage came to a sudden halt. The force of it broke the tip of the nail he was chewing.

The man’s expression turned to ice. He stepped out of the carriage.

The driver, trembling in terror, stammered, “M-My lord Marquis. I apologize. I apologize. I am truly sorr—”

The man, his face a frozen mask, moved only his eyes to look ahead of the carriage. A cart with a broken wheel was blocking the road. A few peasants, heedless of the dirt covering them, were trying to drag it out of the way.

“A n-noble lord! Our apologies! We will clear it immediately!” one peasant cried, approaching the man to apologize.

The man extended his right hand to the side. The knight who had been riding with him placed a lance in his palm.

“Ugly. Die.”

An instant later, the lance shot forward with the speed of a swallow, piercing the peasant’s chest. The other peasants screamed.

The man walked toward them and thrust his lance again. With each thrust, another fell, a hole torn through their chest.

Once all the peasants were dead, the man turned back to his driver and the knight. Despite having killed several people, not a single drop of blood stained his skin.

“Filthy. Burn them.”

As the terrified driver nodded frantically, the man mercilessly threw his lance, impaling him through the chest.

“Him as well.”

The knight nodded.

As the man returned to his carriage, he issued a warning to the knight.

“Do not allow anything that is not beautiful to approach me.”

He was Michel van Netherven—Guardian of Honor and the glorious Knight of the Lance.

***

The Talua Territory, east of Jerom. The castle ruled by the Knight of the Dagger.

In a room within the castle, a pale young man coughed as he studied a chessboard. When his coughing subsided, he moved a piece on the board and spoke.

“So His Majesty has finally set the board.”

His appearance, his voice… everything about him suggested a frail invalid.

As he moved the piece, a metallic voice drifted from somewhere in the room.

“It is the king’s command. You must step onto the board.”

The man gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile, as if lamenting his own fate. “I have no choice, whether I like it or not. Summon all the daggers.”

In the next instant, countless whispers and the frantic shuffling of feet filled the otherwise empty room. The man glanced at a letter beside the board, one stamped with the Seal of the Wild Boar.

Then, as if to hide his words from the presences in the room, he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, “For I am playing the part of Gwen von Talua, Guardian of the Throne, the loyal Knight of the Dagger.”

***

The Blanc Territory, south of Jerom.

To the sound of a horn, a large military force marched down the main road from Rasseu Castle.

At the vanguard were Eshu and the Blanc Knights. In the rear were Tataka and the Broken Tusks. In the center of the column were the Hunters of Anse and Duce’s knights, arrayed to guard the carriages carrying Teresse and Vanadia, and Duce and Charlotte.

And ahead of those carriages, Legra, with Shri on his shoulder, slowly led Toto, who carried Sevha on his back.

The people of Rasseu who had gathered to watch the procession cheered the moment they saw Sevha. They chanted his many nicknames.

Amidst the noise, Duce gestured to Sevha, and Legra led Toto alongside the carriage.

Duce spoke from the carriage window. “Sevha, a word of advice. When you reach the Royal Capital, trust no one but those who are here with us now. Even if they are not enemies, they will not be allies. Don’t forget that.”

Duce offered one more piece of counsel. “This generation’s Four Knights are the most unfitting to ever hold the title in Jershu’s history.”

Just then, the people of Rasseu shouted a title he rarely heard—one inherited with his station.

“Guardian of the People! Merciful Knight of the Shield, Dan le Blanc!”

Hearing that title, Sevha thought coldly, Duce is completely right.

And so the procession departed Rasseu. Their destination was the capital of the Knight Kingdom Jershu, birthplace of the White Horse Knights: Jerom.