Neith tried to find a trail that strayed from the main road but found nothing. He must not have strayed from the main road. It came as a surprise, as she would not have expected he would do something so simple. Even though it would be easier to follow the main road, it also had its downsides. She could not be sure how far he might have gone and where he stopped.
For a Huntsman, a cobblestone road was both a blessing and a curse. It might have been easy to follow, but it eliminated the possibility of leaving a trail. It allowed for faster travel, but the same was true for the target.
Neith followed the main road until she came across a pure white inn. She had not expected to find anything so far away from the city, other than small villages. She could tell the wood used to build the inn was not local; pure white wood did not grow in Bodicca.
As she climbed the two steps onto the porch, she stopped at the top and examined the pillar to her right. The wood was engraved with a mural. She immediately recognized it; It was her father's favorite story. The image showed a figure on a small hill, surrounded by an unfathomably large army. It was the tale of a hero who saved the kingdoms of Bodicca when humans had first arrived.
It was only six years after humans arrived; their previous king was furious at them for deserting their country and swore to hunt them down. She recalled her father's words. In their six years, humans managed to establish good relations with the native elves and requested their aid.
The wicked king's forces were met with surprising resistance, so he sent an army. When his warships reached the shores, all hope seemed lost. The people were pushed back into the small city they had built, Leviaty, modern-day Urmari. As the army marched to the small city, the refugees' leader, once again, sent a request for help to the elves. Help arrived in the form of a single man. Needless to say, the refugees were furious. Their leader wanted to surrender, but the stranger told him to wait and that the army would be dealt with the following day.
The ruler was reluctant to agree, but he knew any path he would choose meant death. All he could do was accept the stranger's help. He offered the stranger command of his finest soldiers, but he declined.
The next day, when the sun rose, the stranger was not in the city. The ruler thought he had decided to run after seeing the great army he would be facing. He decided he would surrender to the king's commander and offer his life to spare those of the other humans, but he was stunned by what he saw when he walked out of the city gate.
A single man stood atop the hill that lay between the city and the ocean. His back was to the city and his face to the enemy. He did not carry a shield or wear armor, only a simple tunic and elven greaves. His weapon was a single handed iron sword. To the ruler, he seemed to be no more than a squire in training. But when the sun was at its peak, he saw what the stranger could do.
He disappeared from atop the hill, and the enemy's forces fell into chaos. They were falling by the hundreds; none of them were even able to cut the stranger's loosely hanging clothes. He moved among the enemy with such speed, it was hard to keep track of him. Whenever he moved slow enough, he displayed his strength by throwing soldiers like rag dolls. Upon seeing the stranger's strength and speed, many soldiers ran to their ships, hoping to escape.
The king's wicked army had arrived in one hundred ships. After the battle, only three escaped. The ruler of Leviaty wanted to reward him with gold and silver, but the stranger was never seen again. It is believed he perished in battle.
Neith realized she had been staring at the column for more than five minutes, tracing the carvings with her finger. She smiled and shook her head. Her father had always been quick to believe the legends of old, but she knew better. She had no doubt the story was highly fabricated. No human or elf could push back an army. Not even the strongest supernatural can fell an entire army. But it is an awe-inspiring tale, none the less.
When she walked through the door, she was surprised to see how busy it was. She had not seen any horses or carts, that would suggest there would be so many people. She scanned the drunken crowd, searching for the owner, or at least someone who worked for the owner. On the other side of the room, she could see the bar, but there was no one behind it.
Neith started getting impatient and contemplated running through the crowd. Before she could decide what to do, a kind voice came from her right, startling her.
"Can I help you?"
Neith looked to her right and saw who the voice belonged to. It was a girl who was shorter than her, but only slightly. The girl's hair was brown and incredibly curly. Her eyes were forest green and seemed to be filled with joy, which was magnified by the poofy red dress she wore. She looked young, but Neith guessed she was in her twenties.
Neith pulled her hood back and brushed her hair to the side. She realized speaking from behind a hood would seem suspicious and cause people to avoid answering her questions.
"Yes, I am looking for some friends of mine. They said they would wait for me here today. Is there any chance you've seen them?" She asked convincingly.
"Well, a lot of people stop here throughout the day, so you'll have to be a bit more specific, ma'am."
"One of them really stands out. He is quite a bit taller than me, and he has snow-white hair," Neith explained, trying her best to sound like a worried friend.
The girl smiled broadly when she heard the description, "Oh, you mean Alexander. I didn't know he had any friends other than that other boy. But I guess I don't know him that well," she laughed.
"Yes, him. Have you seen him?"
"Yeah, he and his other friend got in late yesterday and spent the night. But they left about three hours ago," she said, pointing at the inn's door.
"Did you see which direction they went?"
"Well, I didn't see, but I think I might know. But he didn't say anything about you, so I am not too sure if I should say anything."
Neith felt her heart starting to race for a moment. She had hoped to get the information she needed without too many questions being asked. But luckily, she was prepared.
"He always does this," she started with a chuckle, "you'd think Dara would at least remember to say something. I don't know what I am going to do with those two," she said, running her hand through her hair.
The other boy had formally introduced himself to her when he showed her around town the day before. She had made an effort to remember his name, just for occasions such as these.
The girl stayed quiet for a moment, then happily smiled.
"Oh, I see. The two of them went into the forest, heading northwest. I think that's where Alexander lives if I am not mistaken."
"Perfect, thank you. I should leave right away, don't want to keep them waiting," Neith said with a fake smile.
The girl offered her food and drink, but she politely declined and made her way outside. She stopped and looked at the sun, reaffirming her directions before heading northwest. She could not help but feel bad for misleading the kind lady at the inn, but it was necessary; the boy was a threat that had to be eliminated.
Neith walked to the edge of the forest and paused for a moment. She never liked going into the woods. It was incredibly dangerous, and she was well aware of the number of werewolves in the area. It was called Wolves' grove, after all. Before crossing the threshold into the forest, she adjusted her sword and counted her vials. After she was sure of her inventory, she moved forward, paying close attention to her surroundings.
Surprisingly, her journey was uneventful. The whole forest seemed to be devoid of sound; even the birds were mute. It made her feel uneasy and wonder what could cause such a defining silence. Before she could come to a conclusion, she saw a small cabin and knew she had found his home. She slowed down her pace significantly and drew her sword.
When she reached the door, she was prepared to pick the lock but to her surprise. the door did not have a lock and could easily be pushed open. Sheathing her sword, she looked around the small cabin. It was clear there was no one there. She had not made any effort to conceal her scent; she would have been attacked if there were any supernaturals. It wasn't that she forgot to hide her scent or didn't know it had to be concealed; she neglected it on purpose. Instead of covering her scent to sneak up on prey, she used it as a lure to draw in her prey.
There was nothing special about the cabin. It was small and hardly had space for more than one person. It was made up of three rooms. The main room, which was where the entrance was located, had a large fire pit in the center with a chair on either side. The other two rooms were each a quarter of the main room, effectively forming a rectangle. The two smaller rooms were both bedrooms; however, the leftmost room only had a bed, whereas the rightmost room had storage chests and a closet. Neith was sure it was the owner's room.
After inspecting the house, she left the building, intent on hunting down the white-haired boy. She only took a few steps away from the building before seeing why the forest was so quiet. In front of her, implanted in the soft soil, were several large paw prints. The large human-like forepaw imprints were a clear indication that they belonged to werewolves. Among them, she noticed two sets of human prints. Upon closer examination of the tracks, she could see small differences in size and shape. Eight...No, nine. Nine werewolves.
Even though Neith had the utmost confidence in her abilities, she knew nine werewolves would easily overpower her. There was no other choice; she had to change her tactics. She continued to examine the tracks, hoping to find more details.
It seemed, eight of the wolves formed a protective perimeter around the two humans and the ninth wolf. After forming a convoy, the prints led north. There was no way of knowing how far they went without following. Instinct told her to follow her prey to the ends of the earth no matter what stood in the way. But her conscience warned her of the impossible odds of facing nine wolves. She chose to listen to the latter and decided to wait for the boy in his own home.
She walked back to the cabin and opened the door. She chose to hide in the main room, as it would allow for a surprise attack. There was a big chance that she would not get the opportunity. All supernaturals had heightened senses, and werewolves were at the very top. It was possible he would smell her before she could do anything, but she knew that. To be frank, she didn't like setting traps; it never felt right to her. Setting a trap would have been much safer, but she wanted to fight; she wanted to give her prey a chance.
She waited for several hours before she heard the boy's voice coming from outside. It sounded like he was talking to his friend. She hoped he wouldn't get between her and her prey. It was frowned upon to kill civilians; however, it was permitted if they were to interfere.
She waited patiently for several minutes and noticed the second voice had disappeared. A minute later, she heard the door open. There was a moment of silence. She knew he could smell her; there was no doubt in her mind. Her hands moved slowly and drew her sword without sound. The silence was broken by the boy's voice.
"You can come out; I know you're there."
Neith smiled to herself before she stepped out into the open. Everything was happening exactly as she had anticipated. She slowly stepped out from her hiding spot and stood in the doorway. She had her sword drawn and pointed to the ground, in a relaxed position. Her instincts still screamed of danger, as they had done before, but this time she was ready and managed to maintain control of her body.
There was an intense moment of silence. It was her chance to get a good look at him for the first time. He was easily a foot taller than her. His body was lean, contrary to the usual muscular build of a werewolf. His eyes were a bright shade of blue and had a predatory quality to them. His white hair was short and clean.
As she was studying him, she felt his eyes examining her. Then there was a moment, a split second, where their eyes met. In that heartbeat, Neith leaped forward with her sword pointed at the boy's chest. She aimed to end it quickly, but the boy moved to the side, dodging the strike effortlessly. She shifted her eright and brought her sword around in an arch, hoping to catch the boy by surprise, but the blade was met with nothing but air. The boy's movements were quick, agile, and precise.
Neith continued attacking, not letting up for a moment, but each swing missed. He was much faster than she had anticipated. No creature in human form should be able to move so fast. He was moving at a speed that was comparable to an adult werewolf. Each cut she made would almost land, but at the last moment, he moves narrowly avoiding the attack; he was taunting her.
She continued her flurry of blows, hoping to get lucky and wound the boy. After numerous attempts, she recoiled and brought the sword to her right and slashed horizontally. The boy stepped back, allowing the blades to pass him, and took the opportunity to move behind her. She noticed his movement and brought her elbow up, attempting to stun him with a strike to the face. Her strike made contact, but she did not celebrate because it had made contact with his palm.
His hand was now firmly wrapped around her upper arm. She felt his other hand below her head, and before she could attempt a blow with her free arm, he swept her feet from under her, causing them both to hit the ground with a thud.
The boy had landed on top of Neith, knocking the wind out of her. Even though he had her pinned, she did not give up and struggled against his hold. Her sword was still firm in her hand; to her, that meant she had a chance. The boy steadily adjusted his grip on her arm, moving his hand to her wrist.
"Drop your swords," he said in a monotonous voice.
Neith spat and furiously tried to wriggle free from his grip. But his hand was like a steel cuff around her wrist. She resorted to her free hand, trying to angle her blade towards the boy. As soon as the boy noticed what she was doing, he slowly twisted her arm until she stopped.
"I said, drop your swords."
"Never!" Neith growled.
"Listen! I don't want to fight you! Drop your weapon!" The boy shouted.
His voice shook Neith to her core. It wasn't that he was loud, but rather the tone of his voice; it was frightening.
"Why should I believe you?" she asked, as she struggled against his grip.
"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already!"
Neith stopped for a moment as the boy's words sank in. He was right, and she knew it, but she had never thought of it that way. She had never met a supernatural that didn't want to kill a Huntsman. Was there a reason behind how he was acting? What could he possibly gain from letting her live?
The air was quiet for a minute. Neith tried to struggle free one last time, to no avail. There was no way out. If she continued to fight, it would get her nowhere; the boy was clearly superior. She knew there was no other option; she slowly opened her hand, releasing her weapon.
The boy placed his knee between her shoulders and confiscated her weapon with his now free hand. Once he had the sword, he slowly stood up, allowing Neith the freedom to move. He took a few steps back and dropped the sword behind him.
Neith was quick to return to her feet and immediately faced him.
"What do you want from me?" She hissed.
"You're asking me? You, who broke into my home and tried to kill me?"
She remained quiet, her eyes not breaking from his.
"Why do you hunt me? What have I done to deserve this?" the boy started, "I have not harmed anyone, and I keep to myself. Why do you want to kill me?"
"Because you're a monster. You say you haven't killed anyone; even if that is true, you will harm someone one day. I am here to stop you before you have the chance to kill," Neith said, her eyes burning with hate.
"I'm the monster?" The boy said, clearly angered by the statement, "I do not kill others simply because they are different. I had no choice in what I would be born as; no one has that privilege. But you don't care, do you? Even if I was a defenseless child, you still would not hesitate to take my life. NOW TELL ME AGAIN, WHO IS THE MONSTER!"
The boy was seething with pure rage. Neith's instincts frantically started screaming at her to run, but she was frozen. It was just like before. Her body would not listen to her, no matter how badly she wanted to move; she was, quite literally, scared stiff. Suddenly she was twelve again; hopeless and powerless to stop the inevitable. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate, just as she had done then.
Several moments passed before she heard a familiar metallic clang. When she opened her eyes, the boy was right in front of her. He was so close, she could see her reflection in his eyes.
"Take your weapon and leave. Now!" He said plainly as he turned his back to her.
As she looked down, she saw her sword. The boy had dropped it before her. She was confused as to why he would return her weapon. Was she so little of a threat that he didn't even worry if she was armed? Did he trust her? Neith was sure it was something else. There was no way a supernatural would ever trust a huntsman, no matter the circumstances. There was another reason for his actions; she just wasn't sure what.
She picked up her sword, sheathed it, and left the cabin. It had crossed her mind to attack him while his guard was down; however, her instincts stopped her. They did not warn her of danger or injury; they warned her of instant death. If she had attacked him, there was no doubt he would have killed her.
She made her way back to the inn as fast as she could without running. She needed time to rest and process all that had happened. While walking, there was one thought on her mind. Am I the monster? At first, there was no doubt in her mind, her cause was just, but as she walked, the boy's words repeated in her head. Am I the real monster? This thought swirled around in her head, coupled with the boy's words.
After hours of walking, she finally reached the inn. The sun had long since set, leaving the world in darkness. She thought about going back to Urbemontis immediately, but it was dangerous to travel at night, especially when she could not retain her focus. There was no other choice; she would have to stay at the inn for the night. She hoped her funds would be sufficient.
She ended up spending more time at the inn than she had planned. When she arrived, the first night she was not tired and decided to spend some time at the bar. She had only intended on a few drinks, but the memories of her encounter were still fresh in her mind, so she started drinking more. After her twelfth drink, the bartender stopped serving her. She tried to protest, but as soon as she stood up, her legs almost gave way. Against her less than sound judgment, one of the maids walked her to her room.
The following morning she wanted to leave but was stopped by a severe hangover. She decided to stay at the inn until she felt better. On the one hand, she was frustrated that a hangover stopped her from leaving; on the other hand, she was glad it was so intense. The throbbing in her head diverted her attention away from the conversation she had with the boy. But her pleasure was short-lived, as the hangover started to go away a few hours before nightfall.
She did not want to leave while her mind was occupied, but there was no other choice; her coin was running low, and she could not afford to stay another night.
She gathered her things and left just as the sun started to set. The journey that lay ahead was long, and she had to travel without the light of the sun to guide her. Usually, the early darkness would not bother her; her senses were exceptionally sharp, even in the dark of night. But her jumbled thoughts left her vulnerable. For the first time since becoming a Huntsman, she hoped for an uneventful journey.
To her relief, the main road was relatively quiet. She only crossed paths with a merchant and his guards who had made camp on the side of the road, some dwarven woodcutters who were working late, and the occasional deer.
Throughout the entire journey, her mind did not rest even once.
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After walking the whole night, and then some, the great walls of Urbemontis came into view. Neith was happy to have finally reached the city and let out a sigh of relief. As she approached the gate, she noticed the odd silence. Usually, the gate would be teaming with merchants seeking entry and commoners going about their daily business. It wasn't that it was quiet; there was absolutely no one at the gate except two guards. Both of which kept their eyes on her as she approached.
For a moment, she thought they would stop her from entering, but their interest seemed to diminish as she came closer. It appeared they were looking for someone. Neith wondered who - or what - might have caused the guards to be on such high alert. Something must have happened while she was away.
After she had gone through the gate, she was shocked. The streets were empty. Even the stray cats and dogs were nowhere to be seen.
As she walked deeper into the city, she could hear something in the distance. She decided to move towards it, hoping to find answers. As she got closer, she noticed it was a crowd, and they sounded angry. She wondered what could have caused the people to revolt. Her mind was so occupied; she almost didn't notice a large armored soldier approaching her.
"Huntsman?" A familiar voice echoed.
Neith quickly turned to see the commander she had met before.
"It is you!" He said, sounding pleased, "It seems the guards did not recognize you."
"What do you mean? What is going on?" She asked, genuinely confused.
"I guess I should explain. But not here, follow me," the captain said, turning down a street which led away from the crowd.
Neith didn't know what to think; she wasn't even sure if she could trust the captain. He was acting strangely, avoiding any open streets, and staying in the narrower back streets. She wanted to ask what the reason was, but the captain spoke before she could say anything.
"I am glad I was the first to recognize you; any other soldier would have turned you over to the people."
"What do you mean? Tell me what has happened!" Neith demanded.
"It began two days ago. At first, it was just another day, but after the dancing night lights subsided, we started hearing howls," he paused for a moment to see if they had been followed. "Admittedly, we assumed it was a pack of wolves that had lost their way, so we paid it little mind. But the following morning, I was flooded with reports of werewolf sightings. They had been all around the city, and not just one or two, but entire packs."
"I fail to see what I have to do with any of this," Neith replied, frustrated.
"You don't? I thought you, of all people, should be able to connect the dots. The people are blaming you."
She stopped dead in her tracks. It came as a big shock to her. Why would they blame a huntsman? Huntsmen repel supernaturals; if anything, the people should have been thanking her. Wait a minute!
"Why do they blame me? I thought my presence was a secret! How would anyone know I am in the city? How would they even know I am a Huntsman?" She grew louder as the questions grew more.
"From what I can gather," the captain started, "someone has been spreading rumors of a Huntsman. But seeing as the guards didn't recognize you, I am assuming the rumors aren't detailed. It is a good thing you are a woman; otherwise, you would have been turned over to the people."
"The guards would turn me over? Why? I thought I was under the king's protection."
"Yes, you were. However, when the citizens took to the streets, to protect his image, the king claimed you were not under invite. He also gave his soldiers permission to take you into custody and turn you over to the people."
Neith was furious. The one who asked for a Huntsman to come to Urbemontis now turned his back on her. His reason for doing so was selfish but understandable. If the people directed their anger at the king, the city would likely be subject to riots. But since the king publicly denounced the Huntsmen and offered his support, they were pleased with him, and the damage was minimized. I guess I can't blame him for what he did; after all, it was the most logical action.
"Why didn't you turn me over to the people?" She wondered out loud.
"After seeing you in action, I have gained a great deal of respect for you as a fellow warrior. A warrior does not dishonor another by leading them to such a mundane end," the captain paused for a moment, "I swore my loyalty to the kingdom, not the king. I do what is best for Urbemontis, and I believe you will be an invaluable asset."
As her cheeks started to turn a rosy red, Neith felt glad she was walking behind the captain. No one has ever considered her a warrior, not even her fellow Huntsmen. She was never recognized for her skills. But the captain saw her for who she truly was.
After a tedious two hour walk, they finally reached the gate to the castle. It was promptly opened when the guard saw the captain approaching. After both Neith and the captain were inside, the gate was closed. The castle now lay before them. They quickly hurried to the main door.
"I will go in and inform the king that you are here. Then I shall come back to get you and take you to him, so we can solve this problem," the captain said as he opened the great door.
He was already gone before Neith could answer him. It was so ridiculous, she thought. There was no reason for the king to keep her alive. It was his declaration that sealed her fate. Nothing was stopping him from turning her over to the people. She was both worried and frustrated.
The captain was taking much longer than she had expected. It gave her time to admire the castle and its walls. Urbemontis' castle was not made unique by its size. What made it special is where it was built and with what it was built. Unlike any other city in the country, Urbemontis was built on a small mountain, with the castle at the top. The castle's location allowed it to, quite literally, look over the city.
She had read that Urbemontis was built by dwarves. They had constructed the castle using honey stone, which could only be found in the surrounding mountains. The special stone gave the castle its unique earthy brown color.
While looking around, she found herself impressed by the perfect symmetry of the dwarven design. No civilization could match dwarven craftsmanship. There was a reason why Urbemontis has stood firm after enduring many battles and countless years.
Her reverence was interrupted when the door swung open. It was the captain.
"Come, hurry," He ordered.
Neith followed him without protest, hoping the king would not throw her to the people.
They walked down a long hallway with many doors lining it. At the far end was a door decorated with gold and jewels. Neith guessed it was the throne room. The hallway itself was decorated with banners woven from expensive fabrics and lined with gold. It was a true testament to the wealth of Urbemontis.
When they reached the decorated door at the end of the hallway, the captain knocked twice before entering. He signaled for Neith to follow him.
The throne room wasn't as large as she had thought. It was as large as a typical house. It could not compare to the throne room in Kiro, which was easily ten times its size. The throne room walls were decorated with the heads of trophy animals, art, and banners displaying the king's seal. At the back of the room was a marble throne embedded with gold and silver, upon which the king himself was sitting.
The king was a tall man of average build. His black hair hung down to his shoulders and made his green eyes seem brighter than they were. His attire was an arrangement of red and gold. The crown on his brow was much smaller than that of the high king in Kiro. Neith noticed that unlike most kings, he did not wear any jewelry.
As soon as he saw her, he seemed surprised.
"You did not tell me the Huntsman was a woman, Rakin," He said to the captain,
"Yes, she is my lord," the captain responded.
"I see. In that case, it is good you didn't give her over to the people. We may be able to solve this problem; without losing the support of the Huntsmen. As always, you have proven yourself worth the title of head captain."
"I simply do what is best for the kingdom, my lord."
The king smirked and looked over at Neith. "So you are the Huntsman, the grandmaster sent?"
Neith gave a courteous bow before answering, "yes, my name is Neith Sheila, and I am the only female Huntsman."
"Well, it seems your grandmaster is wiser than I gave him credit for. Sending the first-ever female Huntsman to a city that does not trust Huntsmen; If I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was a seer. I will inform the captains to call off the search." The king said with a broad smile.
"What will we do about the people? They will not stop looking for me." Neith asked.
"On the contrary, they will be looking for a man who has the power to wrestle a bull to the ground. And I intend to give them exactly what they are looking for.