Chapter 43: The Eve Before the Hunt
The midday sun filtered through thin clouds, casting golden light over the grand pavilion set at the center of the camp. The main tent—larger and more luxurious than the rest—had been rearranged to accommodate the gathering of all noble families. Velvet banners bearing each family crest hung from the tall poles that formed the circular structure, and the scent of polished wood and expensive parchment lingered in the air.
One by one, the heads of noble houses entered the tent, accompanied by their heirs. Lords, ladies, and future successors took their assigned seats, all arranged according to their family’s prestige. Quiet murmurs filled the space—whispers of alliances, rivalries, and expectations.
The Thorne family sat close to the front, as tradition demanded from the host family. Lord Albrecht Thorne stood at the center of the room, arms behind his back, dressed in a deep black coat lined with crimson and gold.
His gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on each house. The air quieted.
"I thank you all for answering the call," he began, his voice firm and crisp. "As is tradition, we host this year’s Hunt to honor strength, discipline, and legacy."
Noel stood at his father’s right, hands clasped behind his back. He said nothing, his eyes drifting across the sea of heirs seated before them. Familiar faces stood out—Elena von Lestaria, calm and proud; Clara De Nivaria, seated next to her older brother; others he didn’t recognize, each evaluating the competition silently.
From the sidelines, armed guards stood like statues, observing but not intervening.
Lord Albrecht continued:
"This event is not simply a competition. It is an assessment—of the future. Your performance will speak louder than any noble name you carry. Houses have risen and fallen on less."
He paused again.
"Tomorrow, the Hunt begins."