“It is said that the heroes of Irixil are blessed with a particularly strong constitution. One of his chosen was once a doctor, known for visiting cities infested with plagues and rot, and curing victims of the worst scourges – without ever getting sick himself. Some argued he was immune to any form of affliction. A shame that arrowheads cannot be considered a disease, for one eventually found its way through his heart.

-Tarhas, History of the Known World”

* * *

Astrael

“Here, here,” Timenon said, trying to control his horse startled by the sounds of the huntsmen sharpening their swords and spanning their crossbows. He apparently tried to apply what little knowledge of riding he had learned this past year, but the horse kept neighing and moving.

Astrael approached and gently stroke the horse's neck, and soon enough the mount calmed down. “You okay?” he asked, lending a hand to help Timenon dismounting.

“Yes, thank you,” the boy said with a genuine smile, before giggling.

“Something funny?”

He shook his head and chuckled yet again. “It feels like you're my squire, instead of Leon's.” Astrael laughed heartily, or at least he made it seem so, to hide his violent urge to kick the kid in the nuts. This damn squire business... he cursed.

“I'm not a squire yet,” he corrected. “Just a page.” And he had officially been so for a year – not a glorious status in his mind, and he had no intention of becoming Leon's squire, even though it could lead to being anointed with a Callirian knighthood, or even allow him to enter the bloodsguard. But being a page was a good cover, at least for now. “Come, let's eat with the others.”

Astrael left Timenon's horse in the care of a servant, and they both joined lord Feanir and his hunting party. It was their first hunt with them, but that didn't meant they would be taking it easy. In fact, it was Leon who insisted that Astrael should come, while his father was against it at first. Hunting was dangerous, he said – as if they were people who weren't aware of that – to which Leon brazenly retorted that the danger was the whole point of the hunt.

Astrael and Timenon hadn't been told what would be today's game, but chances were that they wouldn't get to fire their crossbows regardless.

Everyone was gathered in a small clearing, sitting or lying down next to tablecloths and sheets, eating fruits, bread and cheese. These carefree, comfortable positions that one would rarely see amongst blue-blooded families, reminded Astrael of the feasts and dinners in his time, where people would lie down on divans before stuffing themselves with all sorts of food, drinking themselves to death and speaking of immoral topics with joyous grins.

Then it would end up in an orgy or something. He had a vivid vision of all the people gathered here taking part in such an event, which made him chuckle in disgust. The only ones who weren't giving in that untroubled nonchalance right now were the lackeys, the guards, and the huntsman in charge of the hounds, Bert. Astrael frowned for what was probably the fifth time since they left city this morning. What was he doing here?

“You don't like the food?” Leon wondered as he must have misinterpreted his grimace.

“Oh no, it's fine.”

“Good,” Laurentias Feanir pitched in. “You boys should eat plenty, it'll get athletic this afternoon.”

I'm sure it will. He gave the lord a fake smile. Surely we won't spend the day comfortably riding our horses, eh?

Spurred by his father's words, Timenon took a large bite of bread. “What's the quarry?” he then asked, and Leon motioned for the expert huntsman, Bert, to approach.

“It's a big game today,” Leon said with a grin as he unfolded a map of the forest. “Bert, would you tell us where the bear's den most likely is?”

“The bear?” Astrael repeated, brows raised. “I thought there were no bears around Callir.”

“There shouldn't be any,” Bert retorted. “But farmers reported sighting a large animal, and we found two gutted hunters last week.”

Lord Feanir sighed. “The farmers' descriptions and the huntsmen's wounds all hint at a large adult bear. We don't know anything about the beast, this is why I advised against taking the boys.”

“It'll be fine, father,” Leon said, “they shall watch from afar. And since someone needs to get rid of it, might as well be us. The king of the forest, it does sound like a quarry worthy of the entire Feanir family.”

Where did it come from, though? He felt like it was an important question, but Astrael couldn't exactly boast experience in bear hunting, nor did he study the lifestyle of these beasts. Aside from Laurentias and Astrael, no one seemed bothered by this element of uncertainty, as they must have simply thought it was a dangerous wild beast that needed to be taken care of.

“The den should be close to the river,” Bert said in his usual, indifferent growling. “The huntsmen were found here, and the nearest farm is here,” he added and pointed to different locations on the map.

Everyone observed the map and Bert's indications, and Astrael tried to do so too, but he was disturbed by Timenon who wouldn't stop fiddling with his crossbow or tinkering with the cranequin. Am I the only one bothered by it, or what?

If he had to be honest, Astrael would have advised against letting Leon's brother come, since he was the one who had the most chances to get injured, but ultimately he couldn't care less. He had designed the crossbows and gifted one to the sick boy, and the endeavour bore the results he was expecting.

“How do we proceed?”

“The dogs will track the target, and bait it if it's hiding in its den. Then,” Bert rummaged through a pouch strapped to his belt, and took out a crossbow bolt. “White hellebore. Careful not to touch the heads.”

Everyone here had a crossbow, save from a few lackeys and slaves in charge of luggage. Astrael and Timenon were carrying the modified weapon with its cranequin, but they hadn't been given poisoned bolts.

Lord Feanir reached for something behind him. “We also brought bear spears” he said, showing off one of the overly large weapons, of which the blade had been steeped in white hellebore too, judging by the clothes wrapped around it.

They finished their meal and began to move through the forest, toward the river. They had left behind the horses in order to favour stealth. Mounts would have been useful if they had to flee from the bear, but it seemed the goal was to kill it no matter what. Come what may.

“So, Bert, my favourite mercenary,” Astrael said to the man who was walking beside him. “Why are you with us today?”

Bert gave him a blank look. “Because I work for the Feanir family.”

“Of course you do.” He smiled knowingly. That is why Julia relied on you the first day I came to Callir. “And since when have you been working for them?” He felt like he already had this conversation once.

“Since always.”

“Oh, always. A great word, as inaccurate as it surely is. How did you enter their service?”

Bert grunted and glanced behind. “You should get back with the others. I have a job to do, and it has nothing to do with babysitting you this time.”

He complied and slowed down, and Bert's pace fastened while the hounds picked up scents and whatnot, whereas the rest of the group followed from a distance.

Astrael was now walking behind Timenon, who needed the help of a servant to stride over tree trunks and rocks. The poor boy was drenched in sweat, it was probably the most exhausting activity he ever had to do. His crossbow loosely dangling from his belt, while his hand hovered around his bolt case from time to time. It made him smile to himself. Is he expecting the bear to ambush us or something?

He could have reassured him somehow, but the truth was, being comforted by a child three or four years younger would surely embarrass him more than anything. Having an overly competent and charismatic brother like Leon was probably fine, because he was the older brother. But if Timenon found out that Astrael, too, was in many ways better than him, it would be humiliating. And who knew, Timenon could end up resenting him. Having a good relationship with the future head of the Feanir house was a priority. Even if Astrael was to leave the city, grudges could be passed on to Rina, and that would not do.

Astrael glanced around. He spotted Bert in the distance, walking ahead of the group, with the hounds, still scouting the path and following tracks and broken branches. Leon and his father were some dozens of meters behind him, while guards and servants occupied the flanks and the rear.

The men at the rear of the group were slaves carrying luggage. They probably paid little attention to what was going on around them. He faced Timenon's back yet again, and stared at his frail figure for a moment.

I could kill him... I could crush the future of Phiramel's faction, right now.

A crossbow bolt in the back would perhaps be too much, but there were smoother ways. Astrael could mess with the straps of Timenon's saddle. The boy wasn't an accomplished rider, it wouldn't be suspicious if he was to fall from horseback. He had been learning with Astrael, and with only one year of experience, all sorts of accidents could happen. And perhaps nature would prove itself whimsical, and have the boy's skull crushed against a stone or under a hoof after he fell.

Bert was nowhere to be seen now. The group had stopped, too, probably waiting for the huntsman to return with information on the bear's den.

He could also simply cut him with the tip of a poisoned bolt. Here, in the forest, where one wouldn't notice all the branches and thorns on his way, it wasn't unusual to have a scratch or two. Timenon would probably think nothing of it, and once it became clear that he had been poisoned, people would assume the clumsy boy caused the injury himself.

He chuckled. Doing such a thing now would be pointless. He could have poisoned Timenon's food a long time ago, had he wanted to. But the boy was far more useful alive than dead, and if the Feanir house were to lose its heir now, Therenus and lord Danalion would gain even more power – them, he couldn't hope to crush from the inside.

Bert came back a short while after. He had a few words with Leon and lord Feanir, then the group began moving again. This time, the servants, Timenon and Astrael were instructed to keep a safe distance, just in case.

“Scared?” Leon asked in a slightly mocking tone.

Timenon faked a courage and a hot-headedness everyone knew he didn't have. “Of course not! I'm excited, I'd say.”

“Why don't you give us poisoned bolts too?” Astrael inquired. Just in case. He had to make sure Timenon stayed alive, after all. “Scared we might scratch ourselves with it?” he mocked in the same tone Leon previously used.

He shook his head. “I'd be a fool to trust kids with this stuff.”

“Aren't you a fool already for taking kids on a bear hunt?” Timenon jabbed. Leon made a grimace that betrayed how victimized he felt, having to deal with these two brats.

“Bah. No way. What if you accidentally touch the-”

“I probably know more about white hellebore than you do, Leon,” Astrael said impatiently. Seeing the knight's perplexed face, he had no other choice but to explain himself, albeit vaguely. “My teacher Horace told be about plants I should be wary of. I know the symptoms and what to do if they occur.”

“It sounds like this teacher of yours is a fairly educated man,” Laurentias interjected. “Is he the one who taught you about crafting and engineering, too?”

Astrael flashed a smile of appreciation. “Indeed. He taught me everything I know, and he is the one who made me discover Euronel.”

The lord nodded and rubbed his bearded chin. “Well, Euronel is a classic. You said his name was Horace, mmh?”

“Yes...” Astrael couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he had an uneasy feeling. “He is an apothecary with a passion for literature.”

“Eh... It's funny. If I recall correctly, one of Euronel's students was named Horace too. He was advisor to the last king of Callir, but no one knows what happened to him after the monarchy fell.”

Lord Feanir had a strange expression, and an undecipherable gleam in his eyes. Astrael acted as if he was a dense child who couldn't read between the lines, but there was no room for doubt. The man probably knew – and so did Astrael. They weren't that many apothecaries of vast culture, with a collection of books large enough to raise suspicions regarding their relative absence of wealth, that had left Callir for reasons they refused to speak of.

Horace had the ideal age, too. He must have been a young man when it all happened. Astrael frowned in confusion. When what happened, exactly? He had heard about the last king's cruelty. Did Horace play any role in this? Did he took part in the revolt? Why exactly had he left Callir? The reason could have been the obvious one, or perhaps something more complicated.

“Bah, the world is brimming with coincidences, isn't it?” Laurentias suddenly concluded. “I myself was a mere boy at the time, my memories are all fuzzy.” He then chuckled and patted Astrael's head. “Leon, give them some of these poisoned bolts. I choose to believe that Astrael's teacher has taught him enough about hellebore and whatnot.”

...What a ridiculous development. Astrael decided to keep his mouth shut about Horace from now on, while he made sense of the possibles explanations. He would have to keep an eye on lord Feanir, too. Perhaps I should send a letter to Horace and warn him... That is, if they let me.

But for now, he had to focus on the hunt. Bert led the group to what he assumed to be the den – a small cave that could probably fit a few humans. Each of their steps made what seemed to be absurdly loud crushing noises, as they walked on dry fallen leaves in the otherwise silent forest.

They lay in wait for some time, wordlessly observing the surroundings. Then a hand signal was given, and Bert released the dogs. They rushed in the cave, barking and yapping, taunting and angering the target, and the huntsman whistled to make them come back and bait the beast outside.

In place of the dogs coming out of the den, only their squeals escaped, followed by the sound of torn flesh and broken bones. Bert frowned, the other hunters stopped their breathing, and Timenon tightened his grip on the crossbow. Astrael put a hand on his arm. “Don't. You'll risk firing on someone because of your nervousness.” The boy nodded and swallowed loudly as he loosened his grasp.

“It's just a bear,” Leon muttered, but Astrael wasn't sure whether it was for himself or his brother.

A growling reached their ears, and the hunters readied their crossbows and spears, and aimed at the entrance of the den. Then the bear showed itself, and Astrael frowned. Perhaps these were the normal size of bears here, but this one was the biggest one he had ever seen. Dark brown fur, sharp claws and a foamy mix of blood and saliva oozing from between its fangs.

“It's big,” Timenon simply whispered, but everyone seemed too focused to retort something clever or mock him for his obvious remark.

A single hand gesture form Bert, and the first volley of bolts came, piercing the bear from every direction. It growled and screeched, clawed at the air, its mad eyes darting, glancing over the people surrounding him. The hunters reloaded their crossbows, and every time the bear meant to approach, the bolts would make it retreat.

Yet it wasn't going back in its cave. Cubs, maybe. Else it felt it had no choice but to fight if it wanted to survive, that or it was truly mad.

Soon the bear's anger faded away, and it became tired. The poison must have started to weaken him. Laurentias Feanir deemed it the appropriate moment to step forward, spear in hand. The bear let out a last single growl before the spear pierced its neck. It gurgled, twisted itself in pain, and before long, all was left was its lifeless, bloodied body.

“See, Timenon?” Leon said as he put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “This is what you missed until now. Mankind against the animal reign. Such confrontations should be a thing of the past – but it is our privilege.”

“A privilege...” Timenon repeated.

The carcass was now being carefully dissected and skinned by the merry hunters. Since bears were rare around Callir, the locals didn't often get to see the claws, teeth, and fur. Astrael sighed and gazed up, at the grey sky. With his comrades, in the past, he had hunted wild boars, tigers, lions, even elephants, but this was his first bear ever. A faint feeling of melancholy lingering in his mind, as he recalled these times.

“Be proud of it, and do not tarnish the hunt.” Leon unsheathed a knife at his belt and led his younger brother toward the dead bear. “Now, we have to honour it.”