TYND 84

TL: Motokare

The odd conversation between the two sixteen-year-old boys made Ultje, Zey, and the others quietly turn their heads, stifling laughter.

“Aeruhen, come over here.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Aeruhen schooled his expression and approached at Theon’s summon. He then personally straightened Aeruhen’s shirt collar. 

“You’re not to exceed three kills today.”

“Yes.”

“Watch how things go. And the day after tomorrow you need to bag the most game among your peers.”

“Yes, leave it to me! I’m confident!”

“For someone who has never hunted before, you’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“I may not have hunted animals, but like Naran, I’ve hunted plenty of humans.”

“……”

“I’ve chased down so many poachers that there isn’t a forest in our territory I haven’t stepped in. I’ve been to the Aegay Forest more than a few times too. It’s basically like our front yard. If there were a ranking for people on rock climbing, tree scaling, valley tracking, and identifying animal droppings and urine by smell, I’d be no different from an Aura Master!”

After his confident declaration, Aeruhen turned to Rothy with an ‘Oh’. 

“But Rothy, do those wooden animals urinate too?”

“I’ve made them behave like real animals, so they’ll leave droppings everywhere. You can’t actually touch them, but they look exactly like real droppings and smell the same. We checked everything….”

“Wow, magic really is something.”

Aeruhen then excitedly rambled on about what rabbit, deer, stag, marten, and wild boar droppings looked like and how they smelled.

BWOOOO—

Just as the air in the tent was starting to grow awkward from his chatter, the horn to signal the start blared out like a ship’s foghorn. Birds startled by the sound flapped into the air.

“It’s starting! Rothy, I’m off. Your Grace, I’ll head out first!”

Aeruhen rushed out in high spirits. Sounds of people hurrying from other posts could be heard as well. With just Aeruhen gone, the atmosphere inside the canopy quickly settled into calm. Theon leisurely walked over to Rothy for his send-off. 

“Theon… you have to come back without getting hurt.”

“I can’t imagine any situation in that forest where I’d get injured. You’re the one who needs to wait without getting hurt.”

“There’s absolutely no way to get hurt at an outpost.”

“I’m not so sure. From where I stand, this place’s full of dangerous things.”

The rug on the floor was something Rothy could easily trip over. He might bang his waist against the table edge or knock his knee into the side chest. The pillar draped with decorative white cloth would almost certainly catch him in the forehead.

“Rothy trips and bumps into things constantly, so keep watch in all directions.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

After giving strict instructions to Rothy’s assigned mage and knight guards, Theon left the post. Rothy followed him out and stood still, watching Theon disappear into the forest. While none of the other nobles looked back, Theon turned around several times to exchange glances with Rothy before disappearing into the trees. 

“How sweet His Grace is. You must be so happy, Lord Rothy.”

A noblewoman Rothy had met a few times before spoke while covering her mouth with her fan. Rothy gave a soft smile in return.

You’re right. His Grace’s really kind… The ideal husband…”

“Well, that’s because you’re so adorable. Adorable people deserve caring spouses. Shall we head inside now?”

“Mm…”

As Rothy followed the kind noblewoman, he thought to himself.

Theon must’ve asked her to do this.

The noblewoman had clearly received some sort of ‘please look after Rothy while I’m hunting’ request from Theon. He was worried about how Rothy’s reserved nature would handle the upcoming social gathering. If the capital had its famous spring balls during the social season, the North had its autumn hunting tournament. While some couples attended the tournament together, usually one spouse stayed at the post. Those who remained would wait for their families while socialising with other nobles, and these connections sometimes lasted a lifetime.

“Lord Rothy has arrived!”

“We greet you, Lord Rothy.”

“Our respects to you, Lord Rothy.”

The noblewoman guided Rothy to the centre table in the shared post. There were several tables inside. Truthfully, Rothy had wanted to go to the one where people his own age were gathered. But as the archduke’s spouse, he belonged at the table with the adults. The nobles who’d been milling about, waiting for the highest-ranking person to arrive, only took their seats after Rothy sat down.

Screeing!

As always, Chi-chi tried to slip away from Rothy’s side to check out the new surroundings but was held tight by Rothy. The weasel squirmed briefly before giving up and curling into a ball on Rothy’s lap.

“Uhm… is everyone… enjoying the tournament?”

“Yes, of course.”

Thanks to Lord Rothy’s consideration, we’re having a wonderful time.”

The nobles responded politely in unison, but Rothy’s head was spinning.

There must be plenty of people unhappy about the wooden animals… What if someone complains openly? What should I say?

His heart pounded so fast he thought it might burst from his chest.

“Lord Rothy, please have some warm tea.”

“Thank you…”

Right on cue, Ultje filled a pretty cup with tea. His eyes seemed to say, ‘Don’t worry, Lord Rothy. I’m here with you’. While Naran was reliable, Ultje always proved invaluable at social gatherings like this.

“I wonder who’ll take first place this time. It was Sir Lehlefren two years ago, but this time, it must be His Grace bringing in the most game, don’t you think?”

“Who would dare compete? But everyone, second place belongs to my husband.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. My wife’s quite skilled at hunting herself.”

“You’re all forgetting. My sister’s a veteran who fought in the recent Human-Demon War.”

Watching everyone, from their twenties to their fifties, all boasting that their family member would come in first, Rothy relaxed a little.

BWOOOOONG!

When the horn sounded from the central outpost moments later, everyone’s eyes went round. It meant someone had already succeeded in their hunt. 

“Good heavens, not even ten minutes in and the horn’s already sounding?”

“This must be a new record. Of course, since they’re just dolls it’s easier… Ahem…”

Puck

One of the noblewomen elbowed the person who’d just spoken in the side and asked.

“The first must be His Grace, right? Lord Rothy, who do you think it might be?”

All eyes turned to Rothy at once. Feeling the warmth of his teacup, Rothy smiled brightly.

“Whoever it is, they’re really amazing. Let’s all give them a lot of praise when they return…”

With groans of ‘Ugggh…’, responses followed: ‘Shall we?’, ‘Yes, let’s’. 

Ever since Rothy had tripped on stage during his first public appearance before the Northerners, he’d been imprinted in their minds as a small, precious snow fairy who needed protecting. Thanks to this, the social gathering continued in a warm atmosphere without anyone voicing complaints about the wooden dolls, and Rothy gradually relaxed enough to genuinely enjoy socialising with people.

But Rivahn wasn’t pleased. 

He’d only experienced six hunting tournaments in his life, including this one. Two of those he’d been far too young to remember, and when he finally participated at around eight years old with a child’s bow, he discovered that hunting was more fun than any other game in the world: the thrill of spotting prey among thick bushes and tangled tree roots, the gasping breaths while chasing fleeing animals through rough terrain, and the tension of facing off against them and the rush when your arrow struck true into the target’s body!

What he’d caught was just a pheasant the size of a head, but Rivahn had felt as though he’d obtained a tremuhle. His parents had also celebrated his first hunt by having it stuffed and displayed in the estate. After that, Rivahn had pestered his parents to hold hunting tournaments more often, but that wasn’t something they could arrange.

When he learnt then that the hunting tournament, originally held annually, had been reduced to once every three years because of the Human-Demon War, he’d never hated Maton more than at that moment.

Anyway, when he heard early this year that the war had finally ended, the first thought that popped into Rivahn head was this:

Then the hunting tournament will be held every year again. We’ll have one this year and one next year too.

The archduke, who’d returned after marrying a young spouse his age, held a snow festival immediately upon his return. Rivahn had also visited Sourv Square with his friends, where the youngest-ever archmage had activated a climate control tremuhle. Seeing that indescribably wondrous scene, Rivahn, who uniquely revered magic in this territory of knights, was convinced that this hunting tournament, jointly hosted by the first ever aura master and archmage couple in the history of the North, would be many times more exciting than any before it. He’d been counting down the days to the hunting tournament ever since.

But then……

“This year’s hunting tournament will include wooden dolls of wild animals alongside real, living ones.”

Wooden dolls?

DOLLS?

How could anyone call that hunting?!

No matter how powerful the archmage was, they were still fake in shape and would move with stiff, clunky motions. What thrill could there possibly be in hunting dolls like that?

“There’s nothing we can do. People will go wild trying to hunt as many as we can, but the animal population will dry up.”

“His Grace made the right call even though I assume he’ll receive some complaints.”

His parents had accepted the news with understanding.

But not Rivahn. 

His inflated expectations deflated with a hiss, replaced by disappointment in the archduke’s spouse.