When Hael emerged from the ruins of the amphitheater, battered and bruised, Anthanasia felt as though her soul had left her body.
As the days passed, her fears grew. She began to regret ever encouraging Hael to enter the Battle Olympia, to take on the king as a prize. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, of him dying in that brutal fight. But when she finally saw him, alive and almost whole, a wave of relief and happiness washed over her.
Without thinking, Anthanasia rushed into Hael's arms, her eyes brimming with tears.
Though exhausted, Hael caught her with surprising ease, holding her close. They stayed like that for a long moment before she pulled back, her gaze immediately drawn to his injuries.
"I'm so glad you're okay, Hael! I was so worried!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion.
Loki fluttered anxiously nearby, his wings flapping in a frantic rhythm. "You had us worried too!" he chirped.
Hael smiled softly, reassuring them both. "Don't worry, I'm fine," he said, his voice calm despite the toll the fight had taken on him.
Anthanasia, however, wasn't convinced. She grabbed his arm gently and insisted, "Come on, I'll take you to a good physician I know. You need to get patched up."
As they began to walk off, Ceremus, having witnessed the reunion, couldn't help but frown, a sharp pang of something unfamiliar pulling at him.
"Who is that woman?" he asked Anemone, his voice carrying a rare edge.
Anemone followed the king's gaze, his expression shifting to one of understanding.
"Oh, that's Anthanasia. She's a skilled huntress from the Huntsmen Guild."
Ceremus muttered to himself, "How the hell do they know each other?" His voice was thick with curiosity, though something else seemed to linger beneath it.
Anemone's gaze lingered on the pair for a moment longer, before offering a nonchalant reply, "Perhaps they're friends? Or... maybe lovers? They do look good together."
Just as the words left Anemone's mouth, an oppressive, suffocating energy suddenly enveloped them. Anemone's body froze, instinctively recoiling as he turned to look at Ceremus. His face had darkened to an unreadable expression, and his golden eyes—those eyes that had always held a calm, dangerous gleam—began to glow with an intensity that made Anemone's blood run cold.
"W-Your Majesty?" Anemone stammered, his voice tight with unease. The pressure built before abruptly dissipating as Ceremus turned away, his posture cold and distant.
Sighing heavily, Ceremus muttered, "Prepare a grand feast." His tone was sharp and final as he walked away, leaving a visibly shaken Anemone standing alone, confusion and fear lingering in his chest.
Anemone remained rooted to the spot, completely bewildered by the strange shift in the king's mood.
*
Two days had passed since the duel, and the battle between the King and the ultimate warrior was all anyone could talk about, especially the huntsmen. Such a monumental fight taking place right in the heart of the city was something none of them had expected.
Laurel, who had missed most of the battle, couldn't help but express his regret. "What kind of monsters fight for six whole days? No sleep. No rest. It's inconceivable," he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
His colleagues nodded in agreement. "Well, they are hardly like us regular folks," Casper mused.
"Laurel's right, though. They're on a whole different level," another huntsman added.
"How long do you think it'll take to repair the amphitheater?" one of the huntsmen asked, glancing toward the wreckage.
The vice-captain shrugged nonchalantly.
"Hell if I know," he replied. His flippant answer earned a few disapproving head shakes from the others.
Casper couldn't help but chuckle. "Aren't you on the royal council or something? Shouldn't you know about these things? Aren't you, like, some kind of noble?"
The vice-captain scoffed. "You're thinking of my father. He's on the council, but that doesn't mean the invitation extends to me. Plus, I'm a member of the guild, even if it's part of the royal faction. Nobles and their politics don't exactly overlap with the huntsmen."
Casper nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. I guess that makes sense. But I'm surprised your father actually let you become a huntsman in the first place. Don't nobles usually frown upon that sort of thing?"
The others exchanged glances, curiosity piqued, but none of them dared to voice their thoughts. It was clearly a personal matter, one that decent people would typically avoid bringing up. But not Casper—he had no qualms about asking the question.
Laurel let out a hearty laugh at Casper's boldness. "My old man is a bit eccentric.
From the moment we were born, he told us we were free to choose whatever path we wanted. I didn't want to join the military like everyone expected, so I chose the guild instead," he said with a shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The others nodded, some of them still trying to wrap their heads around the idea of a noble letting his child choose such an unconventional path. But as Laurel's story lingered in the air, they couldn't help but respect the unusual freedom he'd been granted.
In Trojas, there were only a few paths a fighter could take. You could join the military and serve directly under the King's faction, eventually becoming a knight. Alternatively, you could become a hunter, though that profession was typically reserved for commoners. For those who didn't want to be tied to a specific faction, becoming a mercenary was an option. And lastly, there was the prestigious path of becoming a huntsman.
Unfortunately choices were limited for warriors, especially since the Naranian Empire had ruled over the continent, a time when combat was far more vital. Now, in the era of relative peace, the need for warriors had lessened. Even so, Trojas remained a nation known for producing some of the world's greatest fighters, and the warrior spirit had never truly been extinguished.
"So, don't go asking me about that kind of stuff," the vice-captain said, brushing off the conversation. "If you want answers, ask the captain directly."
"Right, the captain has a friend who works in the palace. It's hard to imagine someone as refined as Anemone being friends with that barbarian," Casper said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
The remark earned gasps from the others, and Laurel couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Had this kid been dropped on his head as a child? he thought. Casper had no tact and an even looser mouth.
"...See, this is why people don't tell you things, Casper. You should really learn to control your tongue," Laurel chided.
Casper looked around the room, suddenly feeling defensive. "What did I say?" he asked, his voice rising in confusion.
The vice-captain sighed, shaking his head. "It's said that all kinds of animals—birds, reptiles, sea creatures—have been tamed by mankind. But no human being has ever been able to tame the tongue. It's a restless evil, full of deadly poison. Remember those words." He gave one final look around before heading for the door.
Casper blinked, still processing. "...What?" he muttered, genuinely puzzled by the cryptic advice.
The others simply stared after the vice-captain, who left without offering further explanation.
Exactly two days later, with both men now recovered, a large feast was held to celebrate the new warrior as well as the conclusion of their duel.
The King was in a good mood for once, and the palace experienced happy and peaceful days despite how hectic preparations were.
He ordered for everything to be perfect and to include all kinds of accommodations for their champion.