Chapter 244: The Hunters Guild

Stryg had counted thirty people in their small caravan. Nine of them were from the academy, five professors, and four students, including himself. Gale and Lysaila were two last-minute additions, but very much welcomed by their caravan leader, Ismene, the Tempest Arch-Mage. Ismene preferred to have as much combat potential on her team as possible. Stryg wholeheartedly agreed, war had come to Dusk Valley, and one never knew where it might strike next.

There were ten guards, who took shifts guarding the caravan and their camp at night. None of them were mage-borns, but they were soldiers from House Katag; they were well equipped and the best-trained soldiers in Hollow Shade.

There were six wagon and carriage drivers, along with a cook and his assistant, and a pair of laborers, who helped set up camp and carry crates and whatever else the caravaneers might need. Stryg didn’t speak much with any of them, not that he particularly tried to, but they shied away from the mages save for the occasional polite greeting.

Instead, Stryg spent his mornings training his sword forms with Gale and Lysaila, and spent his evenings meditating with Ismene and his three teammates. The rest of the day was mostly spent walking or riding in the carriage as they traveled down the dirt roads to Undergrowth.

The week passed by in a blur of hills and tall grass. By the end of the fifth day, the green trees of Glimmer Grove forest spanned across the horizon.

Freya stuck her head out of the carriage window and pointed at the tree line. “Finally, we’re so close!” she cried out in relief. “I’ll be able to take a bath soon!”

“Actually we still have around two days before we reach Undergrowth,” Callum said.

“Thanks for killing my hopes,” Freya scowled and sat back in her chair with a pout.

“I just want to eat something besides dried meat and bread,” Stryg groaned. “A nice cold mug of ale would be nice too, or some wine. I could go for some dwarven brews too.”

“Oh my gods, you’re still thinking about drinking!” Freya yelled. “You literally finished all the booze we had!”

“That was two days ago and I’m not the one who started the drinking challenge,” Stryg crossed his arms.

“I do mildly regret that,” Callum said wryly.

“I should never have bet so much money on Sylvie,” Freya whispered remorsefully.

“It’s not her fault, she doesn’t like to drink, right, Sylvie?” Callum asked the dire woman sitting next to him. “Sylvie?”

“Huh? What?” Sylvie looked up, startled.

Callum furrowed his brow, “You’ve been pretty out of it these past few days, are you alright?”

“Um,” Sylvie’s scarlet eyes glanced at Stryg and then quickly glanced back to Callum. “...Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit nervous about the tournament I guess.”

Callum slipped his fingers between hers and smiled, “So am I.”

Freya pointed out the window, “Hey guys, look! I think that’s the Hunters Guild’s camp over there!”

A dozen or so green tents blended into the tall grass in the distance. It would have been difficult to spot if not for the two dozen centaurs standing nearby. A lone centaur and his rider rode out from the camp and hailed the caravan.

~~~

The students’ carriage door swung open, Loh stood at the doorway, her face filled with cold determination.

“Can we get out now?” Freya asked.

“Not yet,” Loh said.

“When are we going into the forest?” Stryg asked eagerly. He had missed the trees, more than he cared to admit. They were already at the forest’s edge, he could almost smell the scent of leaves in the air.

“It’s not safe to travel in the dark, we’ll head out first thing in the morning,” Loh said. “We’ll camp out here with the hunters tonight.”

“So can we leave the stuffy carriage already?” Freya asked impatiently.

“Listen,” Loh said sternly. “We need to have a quick chat before I let any of you outside.”

“Understood, master,” Stryg nodded.

“We’re listening,” Callum said respectfully.

“Good,” Loh said. “Since my grandfather personally requested the Guild’s help, it seems they have sent their leader to assist us.”

“Wait, their guild leader is here?” Freya asked, surprised.

“Unfortunately,” Loh sighed. “Hollow Shade does a lot of business with the Hunter’s Guild, we don’t want to lose our business relationship with them. In other words, I need you all to be on your best behavior around their guild leader, am I clear?”

“Yes, of course,” Callum smiled. “We won’t cause any issues.”

“I know you won’t, I’m talking about Miss Clueless Dire over here and my stubborn apprentice,” Loh said.

“What? I won’t do anything,” Sylvie raised her hands in surrender.

“Uh-huh, like when you broke our guard’s wrist in an arm-wrestling match two nights ago?” Loh said dryly.

“T-that was an accident! I was only trying to win…” Sylvie mumbled abashedly.

“Yeah, I don’t want to see any accidents these next few days, okay?” Loh looked at her pointedly.

“Okay,” Sylvie muttered quietly.

“And Stryg, I don’t want you causing any problems either,” Loh said.

“I don’t even know this guild leader, why would I cause a problem?” Stryg tilted his head.

“It’s not that…” Loh glanced at the carriage in front of them. “The Hunters Guild sometimes act as guides, but their main profession is hunting, their main interest lies in rare kinds of beasts and monsters. I don’t doubt many of them might get a little… ecstatic to see a lamia.”

Stryg narrowed his eyes, “They’re going to try to kill Lysaila?”

“No, they’d most likely try to capture and enslave her,” Callum said grimly.

“Lamias are incredibly rare. Selling a living one would make anyone rich,” Freya added.

Stryg gripped Nameless’ handle and stood to his feet, “I won’t let anyone touch Lysaila.”

“Calm down, Stryg,” Loh said. “Lysaila is stronger than you. She can handle herself, she doesn’t need your protection. Nor are we trying to start an incident with the Hunters Guild.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand by and let them attack her,” Stryg hissed.

“Stryg, the hunters won’t be doing anything,” Loh said. “Well, they may mutter some things and stare greedily at Lysaila, but they won’t act on their desires. Not as long as Ismene is here. The Tempest Arch-Mage’s reputation is quite strong in Dusk Valley. No one would dare anger her unnecessarily. So long as you keep your calm, everything will be fine.”

“...What about Lysaila?” Stryg asked.

“Please, she knows how to deal with men who try to get handsy,” Loh grinned.

“...Okay,” Stryg let go of his sword’s handle.

Loh stepped aside, “Now come on, let’s introduce you four to their guild leader. Ismene is talking to her right now.”

Loh led the students through the encampment, they passed by several tents, and a few men and women dressed in long cloaks covered in leaves and twigs. The hunters stared at them unabashedly, observing their black pants and sleek boots, and the Hollow Shade sigil emblazoned on the back of their white jackets.

“Hi, hello, nice to meet you,” Sylvie smiled and waved at each hunter they passed by.

“They’re staring a lot,” Callum muttered.

“I bet they’ve probably never seen a Goldelm before,” Freya whispered.

“I don’t think that’s why…” Stryg whispered. He stared at each hunter in return, searching for any potential weapons hidden underneath their cloaks.

At the center of the camp stood two women, Ismene resting comfortably on her cane, and a woman with bright red curls.

The guild leader had a wiry frame, she stood tall, even compared to men. She spoke in a quiet voice, but her hands moved constantly. She spotted Loh and the others, and smiled, her eyes filled with a stilled calm.

“Welcome to our humble encampment, Miss Noir. I am Astrid, leader of the Hunters Guild. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” she bowed low.

“The pleasure is mine,” Loh smiled politely. “I appreciate you personally coming to guide us through Glimmer Grove.”

“Well, when the great Lord Noir himself requests a guide for his academy’s finest, how could I not?” Astrid said. She glanced at the four students behind Loh and smiled wide, “Hello, you must be the future champions of Hollow Shade, it is very nice to meet you. I am Astrid of the Hunters Guild, may I have the honor of knowing your names?”

“Hi, I’m Sylvie,” the dire hybrid grinned.

“Good evening, Miss Astrid, I am Callum of the Great House of Veres,” he bowed with a flourish.

Freya brushed her blonde hair aside, the golden beads in her braids shining brightly in the sunset, “I am Freya of the Great House of Goldelm, but you may call me Miss Goldelm.”

Astrid’s eyes widened, “I knew the Tempest Arch-Mage would be traveling with a scion of House Noir, but this is unprecedented. Scions of Great Houses? Not just Noir, but Katag, Glaz, Goldelm, and Veres! Here? In my encampment?” She went down on one knee and bowed her head, “I am deeply honored to be your guide.”

Ismene nodded, “And we are grateful for your guidance. Stryg, why don’t you introduce yourself too? Stryg…?”

Stryg stood stock still, his pupils thin as a blade’s edge. His muscles were taut and he stared out into nothingness. The tall grass all around them suddenly fell flat and the air began to vibrate quietly. Strands of hair slowly rose from their scalps.

The group looked around in surprise and confusion. Only Freya seemed a little less confused; she turned and looked for Stryg, but he was gone.

Stryg had walked away without even glancing at Loh or the others. He ignored the voices of his friends calling out to him. His legs moved as if almost in a trance. He strode past the tents and made his way to a small campfire where a few hunters and their centaurs ate their dinner.

With a casual gait Stryg drew Nameless from its sheath. He stepped forward and swung his blade in a wide upward arc, slicing off the forelegs of a grey centaur in one clean swipe.

The centaur screamed in agony and fell forward, unable to hold his own weight. The hunters and other centaurs jumped back in shock at the gruesome sight. Stryg ignored their cries and placed his foot on the grey centaur’s neck and collar. The old centaur tried pushing Stryg away but he barely managed a sputtering gasp as the collar bent under the sudden force.

Stryg leaned forward and shifted all his weight onto the helpless beastkin’s throat. He stared down at the centaur, cold indifference in his lilac eyes, “Having trouble breathing? Maybe you should just sleep.”

The centaur’s panicked eyes widened with recognition.

Stryg cocked his head to the side, “No? Can’t sleep? Let me help you.”

Stryg raised his foot and kicked down with all the force of his rage. The ground shuddered and cracked underneath the blow, the metal collar shattered, and the centaur’s neck snapped in a splatter of blood and bone.

The other centaurs screamed and galloped away as fast they could, abandoning their riders. The hunters scrambled to their feet and ran to the tents. Stryg hurled Nameless in the air in a blur of steel. The blade struck a hunter in the calf and pierced through his shin. The hunter cried out in pain and collapsed on the bloodied grass.

Stryg stared at the whimpering man; he was bald save for the grey hairs above his ears… he hadn’t changed.

Stryg sauntered towards him, “It’s been almost three years, a lifetime for some. Do you remember me, poacher?” He smiled eerily, “I never forgot you.”

A shiver ran down the hunter’s spine, he trembled uncontrollably and raised his hands as if to somehow ward away the monster that stood over him. “W-who a-are you!?”

“Hm, accent’s not bad, but horrible pronunciation. I doubt I could sell you for very much.”

“S-sell me?” the hunter frowned in confusion.

“Obviously. Slaves make money. And a man needs to eat. Isn’t that what you said?”

The hunter furrowed his brow, a faint memory scratching at his mind. He stared at Stryg’s lilac eyes and gasped in horror. “...Y-you! Y-you’re t-the…”

“The goblin of Vulture Woods.”