THE ROYAL HUNT PROCEEDED over a wide road that wound between endless snowy ravines. Ancient trees ford an impenetrable wall lining the road, standing watch like eternal guardians as the noisy column of riders and carts passed.
Sotis, the Northern Tract would rise and fall, or lead to small but sturdy stone bridges over burbling mountain streams that didn’t freeze even in winter, girded by towering frost-coated cliffs that lent the surrounding area a particular air of magic and mystery.
Huge heavy clouds drifted slowly and majestically over the endless pure white plain until they collided with the dark bodies of the tall mountains that ford the horizon. Snow blanketed the ground in a thick impenetrable layer, glimring in the sun with a variety of shades ranging from white to light blue.
When the road brought us up high enough, I glimpsed the seacoast and its broad fjords filled with cold water as dark as the night sky. The fjords were frad by nearly vertical coastlines overgrown with thick pine forests. In these forests, centuries old trees reached majestically up to the sky, standing watch over the endless northern solitude.
And all of it was beneath a do sky, which could go in a mont from saturated gray to an explosion of the many colors of the northern lights, which pierced the heart with their beauty and mysteriousness. Northland was just the way I imagined it — a landscape both harsh and beautiful.
For so still unclear reason, Princess Astrid had expressed a desire to have join her and Prince Louis for the hunt. So for the last few hours, I had been riding in quite a noisy group, most of them staring at in incomprehension, though I also saw plenty of disdain. The looks from Max’s cousins were particularly hostile. It clearly must have been because Her Highness had reacted quite coldly to them, at tis ignoring them outright.
“And there’s my cousin,” Astrid said with a mysterious smile, nodding at the galloping cavalcades of northerners behind us led by False Thais, better known as Helga the Valiant.
She rode atop a large powerful mare with amber brown eyes and a coat that glimred like fresh honey.
Despite her considerable dinsions, the horse moved with surprising ease and grace. She easily sprang over obstacles. Her thick red mane flittered in the wind like a fla. Her ears constantly rotated like radars, picking up every sound, while her big nostrils flared with each big inhalation, taking in the cold winter air.
The fine animal was clearly enjoying every mont of travel, every jump, every step on the snowy earth.
Pensively staring at the woman rider racing our direction, I found myself yet again chanically starting to compare her with the woman I’d once called my sister.
Helga, like Thais, was not tall but, unlike my sister, who was thin verging on dainty, the jarl’s daughter was larger with a more solid build.
Based on how easily and confidently Helga stayed in the saddle, she had been studying the art of riding since childhood. Still, she was a far cry from my Thais in that regard. Having been born and raised in a travelling circus, my little sister was an excellent rider and even spent so ti performing complex tricks in the ring.
Helga wore a light suit of armor. Her belt held a short sword, while her saddle was fixed with a bow and quiver of arrows. A true northern warrior.
There my Thais would have lost outright. She was a kind and soft person. Weapons and Thais were two concepts that did not go together.
Ah… Too bad… If Helga had been in her place that night, she’d have gutted Lord Darem’s son like a fish.
For the record, she very much lived up to her nickna “the Valiant.” When Helga was seventeen years of age and her father was on a campaign with his retinue, soone attacked their ho and she slayed many of the attackers to protect her dostics. And she did it using her crimson magic, stopping the hearts of enemies, and turning their circulatory systems into minced at.
Or at the very least, that was how Leif the tavern owner told it. I now had to admit that it seed plausible. A powerful healer with a highly developed energy system could easily pull off such tricks. And at the very least, I could confidently say Helga was a powerful healer.
“You’re late,” Princess Astrid said when Helga’s mare caught up to her white horse, snorting with delight. “I figured you were staying behind in Fjordgrad.”
“And miss the wolf hunt?!” Helga smiled wide, casting her condescending gaze in my direction.
Today was my first ti getting so close to my sister’s twin and so I found myself overco by sudden anxiety. This raven-haired beauty was a completely different person in theory, but her dimples looked so familiar when she smiled, conjuring my unfortunate sister’s image in my mory.
It cost a lot of effort to hold myself together and look at Princess Astrid’s cousin in a new light. Her movents, looks, voice… Everything else. The flood was imdiately swept away… No, this was not Thais. There was a resemblance, but she was not my sister. An entirely different person. How could I even compare them?
Hm… I could guess who might have been trying to mislead by sending those visions.
“Monsieur Renard,” Princess Astrid ca to . “I’d like you to et my cousin, Helga Sigurdsson.”
Bertrand told the northern jarls were equivalent to the southern dukes, aning Helga was, in the Vestonian noble code, at the level of a marchioness.
“Your Ladyship,” I bowed in the saddle. “It is an honor.”
“Renard?” Helga asked and her dark brows shot up in surprise. “The man who hired a frost knight for his bodyguard?”
“Not exactly, Your Ladyship,” I answered quietly. “A forr frost knight.”
Helga did not like my response. She clearly had her own scores with Sigurd’s forr brethren.
I saw a pensive smirk on Princess Astrid’s face. I was getting the impression that she had set this eting up on purpose. I wondered why she wanted all this commotion around so Vestonian bastard. In any case, everything would beco clear with ti.
“By the way, monsieur,” Princess Astrid ca to again. “Last ti you promised to tell about the history of your order.”
And she nodded pointedly at the silver wing on my chest.
Helga just snorted and, rolling her eyes, shook her head. I had noticed before that northerners treated their guests from the south dismissively. We were openly regarded as weaklings and softies. There seed to be a similar opinion about Vestonian dals and decorations.
And to tell the truth, who was I to them anyhow? Just another minor noble searching for adventure.
“If I’m not mistaken, this decoration is awarded to those who serve with distinction on the Frontier?” Astrid continued her “interrogation.”
“That’s right, Your Highness,” I replied.
“And what great feat did you accomplish, monsieur?” Helga jumped in, adding with mockery: “Sothing very heroic, I trust?”
“I am far from a hero, Your Ladyship,” I replied with a respectful smile. “I only did what any noble person would have done in my place.”
“But you got a dal nevertheless,” Helga’s dark eyes squinted slightly, and her full lips spread into a wicked smirk which gave her cheeks elegant little dimples.
For a mont, I felt like I was seeing Thais. But a mont later, she was gone. Especially after the look Helga used to asure up from head to toe. It was full of sincere disregard. If the real Max were in my place, he’d have gone red with awkwardness and confusion. I wondered what about bothered her so much.
“I did,” I said and shrugged.
My calm indifference seed to get on the princess’ cousin’s nerves. She was about to say more but Jean-Louis, who was riding next to , got ahead of her.
“Your Highness,” he jumped in with a broad smile. The experienced noble had sensed the conversation taking a strange turn and hurried over to smooth out any bumps. “Allow to speak in my friend’s defense!”
“I allow it!” Princess Astrid supported his friendly tone, her pink lips stretching into a happy smile to reveal even rows of pearly white teeth. The konung’s daughter seed sincerely amused by how much this was bothering her cousin.
Jean-Louis glanced at and continued:
“My friend Chevalier Renard, has an array of unique good qualities, one of which is modesty. Just so you know, let tell you that in Vestonia, cavaliers of the Order of the Silver Wing are rare enough to be counted on your fingers. For instance, the only person in my family to be so highly honored was my great grandfather Baron Jean de Levy.”
Astrid and Helga turned their heads toward at the sa ti. The princess stopped smiling, but there was sothing strange in her eyes. I got the feeling she was looking at the way a person looked at a newly acquired object. And most importantly, she was not disappointed with her purchase.
But in her cousin’s eyes, beyond distaste, there was now so curiosity.
“You’ve caught my interest,” Astrid ca. “Continue!”
Jean-Louis glanced at inquisitively. I just shrugged my shoulders without comnt. Jacques had recounted the tales of my misadventures on the Frontier to Baron de Levy at a stopover on our way north. At the ti, it seed to that Jean-Louis was already aware of them from other sources. The royal court was first and foremost a nexus of all kinds of rumors and hearsay.
For the record, the Baron de Levy was an excellent storyteller. For the next half hour, he described in detail my fight with the shadow beast, my travels with injured brothers in arms over the steppes of the Frontier, and our miraculous return to Westerly Fort.
If the baron’s audience were common Vestonian ladies, whose biggest concerns were fashion choices for ball gowns, my authority in their eyes would have shot sky high after that poetic rendition. But Princess Astrid and Helga were not common ladies. Astrid was a powerful combat mage in her own right, while Helga was a healer who had already taken part in a number of deadly battles.
But even still, the Baron de Levy’s tale had an effect. The look in the princess’ eyes grew even more sympathetic and considerate. Helga anwhile stopped looking at with scorn.
“Killing a shadow beast isn’t all that easy,” the princess said. “Particularly for a person with no gift.”
“He probably ca up against so small creature weakened by the ebb,” Helga snorted. “Four people could easily handle such a thing.”
“What kind of beast was it, chevalier?” Astrid asked .
“It looked a lot like a wolf,” I responded and added: “Only very big.”
Helga just laughed and shook her head.
“Your Highness,” I ca, lowering my hand into a pocket of my saddlebag. “Allow to give you a small gift.”
Riding up closer, I tilted my head and handed Astrid a black claw from the leader of the shadow pack. I shot a quick glance at Helga, whose eyes started going round after seeing my artifact. Astrid anwhile was also impressed.
Hefting the claw, which was as big as a boathook, the princess glanced amusedly at Helga:
“Little creature, cousin? Fat chance! Looks like they were able to take down a darkpaw and, based on the claw size, it was an adult male. Few strykers would be up to such a task. I personally would have been very wary to go against such a tough beast.”
I just snorted to myself in approval. And rightly so. Sure, she was a well-cultivated dius, but if she’d done battle on the lakeshore that day, I’d have placed my bets on the shadow wolf.
After that, the princess glanced at and, without the slightest smile, said:
“I thank you, monsieur. And I’m glad to have you by my side for the hunt, and that Prince Louis has a hunter as experienced as yourself.”
I tilted my head to one side and replied:
“The honor is all mine, Your Highness.”
* * *
When the sun dipped beneath the horizon and stars blanketed the sky, our hunting camp was overco with the haze of smoldering fires. The air beca saturated with the slls of char and roast at mixed with a thick aroma of snow-covered evergreens.
In the middle of camp, on a well-trod area, there was a towering fire surrounded by wooden benches and chairs. On them were copper trays of food and pitchers of warming beverages. In the light of the flas, the shadows of the feasting hunters played out a jerking dance.
Around the fire, there were tents, each of them decorated with the crests and flowers of various clans. So of them were bigger and more opulent, with golden ties and embroidery intended for the konung and his family. The other more basic ones served as simple abodes for huntsn and servants.
Near the fires, away from the hustle and bustle and under open sky were our temporary horse runs. Their quiet neighing and the rustling of hay periodically broke the silence of the night.
Sowhere in the shadows, under the protection of the pines, I could see the dark silhouettes of soldiers on night watch keeping a close eye on the surroundings. Despite the feast, the konung’s people had not forgotten their ruler’s safety. Bjørn Sharptooth himself, like a wild animal, was always on guard. Around him there were always ten gifted people ready to fend off any foe.
We traveled in comfort to the main camp. Before the trip north, our wagon, thanks to my experience from a past life, got a little upgrade.
Our ans of transport, which was now transford into a half-tent half-wagon, stood out a lot from the other traveling vehicles and drew a great deal of attention. The main features were its functionality, simplicity, and ease of setup.
My first guests were the prince and princess. While their tents were still being set up, my transforr wagon was already equipped to accept visitors. When saying goodbye, Princess Astrid said she wanted to get a similar wagon for herself. To which I replied that when I got back to Herouxville, I would place an order with the craftsn. But I neglected to ntion that these craftsn were already far too busy working on a new travelling wagon design. A larger one with more space.
It took a bit of fussing to explain to them what precisely I wanted, but the result was worth it. When we ran the first test of our ho on wheels on the shore of the pond near my castle, Jacques was naturally delighted. In fact, he seed to start respecting even more that day.
When all the guests had gone their separate ways, Sigurd and I sat down at the small table to eat dinner. The addition of a second stove ant the tent was warm and dry.
Bertrand and Gunnar ate separately, inside the wagon. The stubborn old man was kept a sharp eye on etiquette even while travelling. However, when the prince and princess ca to visit , my valet didn’t embarrass himself. His Highness truly appreciated the level of service and flawless serving of beverages and snacks.
Special thanks to François for the wine. If he found out which wine Prince Louis was drinking in my tent, he’d probably have gotten mad enough to cause dyspepsia.
Just as we were getting started on the mulled wine, the tent flap slid aside, letting so frosty night air inside. Aelira was standing in the doorfra. Throwing back the fur cover, she quickly walked over to the table and, unceremoniously grabbing a fat piece of at, sunk her teeth into it with relish. I slid her a dish of at and poured her a glass of warm wine. She had spent a few days in the forest carrying out my orders. Based on the cold look in her eyes, there had been problems with the ga.
We spent a little while in silence watching Aelira eat her fill. Finally, once done chewing and swallowing the last bite, she breathed a sigh of relief and ca:
“As we thought, the Brownwolves are up to sothing. They have werewolves with them.”
“Were you spotted?” Sigurd asked.
Aelira shook her head “no.”
“How many are there?” I asked. “And how far are they from camp?”
“Several hours’ travel,” she replied and added: “There are two werewolves. Both very tough. There are a dozen Brownwolves, and twenty common troops.”
“So there’s no wolf pack at all?” Sigurd asked.
“There is,” Aelira replied. “However it’s being led not by an alpha male, but an old she-wolf. They ca down from the north. I imagine the Brownwolves managed to make an arrangent with the lesser beings so they wouldn’t draw attention.”
“Then we should expect the werewolves to attack during the hunt,” said Sigurd.
“No, no,” I shook my head. “We must attack first.”
“When do we move?” the stryker asked calmly.
“Tomorrow morning,” I responded, standing up from the table. “And now, you may rest.”
Reviews
All reviews (0)