Chapter 242: Ch240. Before the real hunt begins
The next few hours passed in a blur of orientation.
The Lodge was not a singular organization, but a collection of groups. Hunting parties, solo specialists, lore-seekers, and beast-cullers. Each followed their own code, bound by only one rule.
Never draw the ire of the city’s roots. Keir showed them the training hall, a sprawling arena with traps that reshaped themselves and golems designed to mimic beasts of every kind. Miles watched as a young girl no older than fourteen took down a construct shaped like what Keir called a smoke-bear with a bow made from stringed antlers.
"Don’t underestimate the young." Keir said, smirking. "Age isn’t always an advantage in Tir’Serene."
Next was the lodge’s archive, an underground vault of living parchment, where scrolls unfurled like breathing lungs and whispered their knowledge to anyone willing to listen.
Miles swore he saw one scroll wink at him when he passed by.
Sarissa lingered longest in the forge hall. The scent of hot iron and shaped bone filled the air. Artisans wove spells into their work, and one man was shaping what looked like a whip made of chain-lightning bound in sinew.
"I could spend a week just watching." She said with watery eyes.
"And still not understand half of it." Keir agreed.
Miles looked at her and then at Sarissa but said nothing else, holding the silent memory in the air.
By the time they returned to the common room, the sun had begun to sink. Shadows grew long across the bone-laced eaves, and laughter echoed through the chamber as a group of hunters shared drinks near the hearth.