Chapter 11: Into the Woods
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The morning of the Hunt began in silence.
No drums. No horns. No pageantry.
Just the sound of hooves crunching frost-bitten earth and the low murmur of breath in cold air. A heavy fog clung to the forest's edge like a curtain refusing to rise.
It was early—before sunrise. But that was tradition.
The Grand Hunt was more than a sport. It was a rite.
A ritual carried out with almost religious reverence by the empire's noble bloodlines. The beast would be released into the wilds of Halebrook at midnight the night before. Hunters would ride at first light. And the one to bring back the creature's head would earn favor, recognition… and whispers of legitimacy.
For me, that favor could be armor against the blades already turned toward my back.
For others, it was an excuse to make me disappear.
I sat atop my horse near the forest line, quiet as the trees around us.
Mirelle rode to my left, her expression cool and unreadable beneath her helmet. Her armor was slimmer than the ceremonial set she'd worn yesterday—flexible leathers reinforced at the joints, built for movement over vanity. Her sword was strapped across her back at an angle that said she'd used it often.
Claribel rode to my right.
Unlike the others, she wasn't dressed for battle. No sword, no armor—just a high-collared cloak in deep violet, her saint's pendant glinting in the gray light. A healer's satchel hung at her side, marked with House Rozenhart's sun sigil.
"You sure about this?" I asked her quietly.
"I'm not leaving you with a pack of wolves," she replied, then smiled softly. "Besides, I've survived worse than a cold forest."
"Such as?"
"Court luncheons with the Duchess of Braemoor."
"…That's fair."
She laughed under her breath.
Behind us, the rest of the nobles began to form up—each group led by a house banner, flanked by squires and servants with crossbows, lances, or hunting falcons. There were over twenty parties riding today.
I knew maybe five I could trust.
And two of them were right beside me.
Lord Berion's voice rang out from the front of the line.
"Listen well, riders! The beast loosed this year is a shadowfang! A rare predator. Twice the size of a warhorse. Faster than most men can blink. And smarter than some of our guests!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
He raised a hand for silence.
"The rules remain the same: The kill must be clean. The proof must be brought back. Any sabotage, betrayal, or cowardice will be punished by imperial decree."
He paused, then looked in my direction.
"And remember… the forest sees all."
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
Then the horns sounded.
Not loud.
Low. Ancient. Bone-deep.
And the Hunt began.
We rode into the woods as the sun began to rise.
The light was pale—filtered through bare branches like smoke through stained glass. The air grew colder as we moved beneath the canopy, the wind dying down to a breathless stillness.
Birds didn't sing.
Leaves didn't rustle.
It was the kind of quiet that made even horses hesitate.
We followed the official route—at least at first. The trail was wide enough for three abreast, but overgrown. Roots clawed at the path. Frost made every step crackle.
"Anyone else feel like we're being watched?" Claribel said softly.
Mirelle didn't answer. But her hand hovered closer to her blade.
I glanced at the map in my coat.
Two ridges up ahead.
And beyond them… the clearing where the first trap was likely set.
If the information Wren gave me was true, there'd be a feigned accident. A loose bolt. A 'stray' arrow. Something that could be explained away without ever raising suspicion.
I slowed my horse slightly.
"Let's fall behind," I said.
Mirelle looked at me. "Why?"
"Because we're not chasing the kill. We're surviving it."
She didn't argue. Just signaled with two fingers, and the three of us reined in.
The rest of the convoy moved ahead, slowly vanishing into the fog.
Half an hour later, we heard it.
A scream.
Then the sound of horses scattering. Metal crashing. A sharp yell cut off mid-sentence.
We paused, breath visible in the air.
"That came from the front," Claribel whispered.
"They'll blame it on the beast," I said quietly.
"But it wasn't the beast?" she asked.
I shook my head. "It was the bait."
In the game, this was where the route split—either follow the convoy into disaster, or find the alternate path through the old logging trail and take shelter at the stone circle, where the creature would eventually pass through.
In-game, the smart move was to avoid confrontation until you had the right setup.
In this world, there were no checkpoints. No retries.
But I still remembered the map.
"This way," I said, veering off the trail.
Mirelle didn't hesitate.
Claribel followed, though she looked back once, as if she could still hear the echo of that scream.
The logging trail was barely more than a memory.
Overgrown, narrow, and winding through thick underbrush, it forced us to dismount and walk our horses carefully. The trees pressed close, the air turning colder still. I could smell moss, wet bark, and something else underneath it.
Old blood.
Not fresh.
Faint.
But real.
We reached the stone circle just before midday.
Twelve massive stones arranged in a ring—ancient, weather-worn, and half-buried in vines. They stood in a wide clearing, surrounded by broken trees and silence.
In the game, this was where the beast passed through after escaping the trap at the ridge. Here, the protagonist would first glimpse it—shadowfang, a dark-furred predator with six eyes and bone-plated limbs.
And the one place it could be ambushed effectively.
If you were smart.
If you were ready.
I wasn't ready yet.
But I was learning.
"We'll rest here," I said. "Set up camp. Watch for movement."
Mirelle nodded and immediately began checking the perimeter, scanning for signs of tracks or traps.
Claribel sat on a mossy stone, warming her hands with a small flask from her satchel.
"I used to think these stones were fairy circles," she said softly.
"They might be," I replied.
She looked at me.
"You believe in fae?"
"I believe in a lot more things than I used to."
Claribel smiled faintly. "I think I like the new you."
[Ding!]
[Claribel Affection +3 — Status: Confidant Growing]
I sat beside her. Not touching. Just… there.
And for a while, we didn't say anything.
Because sometimes silence builds more trust than words.
Night would fall soon.
And with it, the beast.
And whatever came hunting me.
But for now?
I had allies.
I had a plan.
And I had time.
Not much.
But enough.
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By Ecstasy Crown