Way of a Hunter

A hunter? What did that even supposed to mean? Perhaps he was trying to figure out why I had been in the forest in the first place, or maybe he was testing whether I needed the weapon I had on me at the time. Even though a dagger wasn't exactly a hunting knife, it could still fit that role. Well, if he was handing me a convenient cover-up story like that, it would have been foolish not to use this opportunity. I nodded in agreement.

"I suppose I am a hunter. Why else would I have been in such a place?"

Michael squinted at me and moved closer, thoroughly observing my body, hidden under the clothes they had given me the other day. I didn't like this scrutiny; it reminded me too much of some of the wicked brutes back in my band. Though this old man was likely assessing my build, hunting did demand a fair amount of strength and endurance—qualities I was often criticized for lacking. I certainly hadn't factored that in; hopefully, he wasn't as observant as I feared.

After a minute or two of silence, the man finally nodded back and looked into my eyes. "You don't look like a hunter, but I suppose your main targets were hares and other small animals?"

"I don't know."

"Did you hunt alone or with someone?"

I gasped at the question, trying to look away from his keen eye but failing. After a moment of contemplation, I finally said, "I believe I was not alone. There was another person with me, but... I think they are gone now."

It was only a half-lie; indeed, I was accompanied by the rather pesky ghost, Solitaire. Moreover, I couldn't contact him now because my gem had been stolen by the very man sitting before me, which further solidified my story. As soon as I explained this situation, a sense of realization crossed Michael's face—it seemed like the story of my origin was finally taking shape in his mind. I wished he would share it with me, but instead, he simply turned away and headed towards the exit from the dining room. Before leaving, he cast one last glance at me.

"Do you think you've lost something since coming here?"

"A gemstone and a dagger," I replied, clenching my hand into a fist inside my pocket. Hearing the dissatisfaction in my tone, the nobleman smiled and said, "They are in the cabinet by your bedside. I can't believe you didn't even bother to check it."

We parted ways, and I walked towards my bedroom, which was quite far from the dining hall. I passed a few maids who smiled and greeted me, though I could clearly sense their displeasure. Nobody liked freeloaders, especially one of uncertain origin. I might have been mistaken for a noble, but most likely, I was just a peasant taking advantage of their masters' kindness, thus they certainly dreamed of the day I would leave this mansion. Little did they know, their master was one cunning snake.

Upon entering my room, I hurried towards the cabinet and opened it without issue. As Michael had said, my lost belongings were there, although the cabinet had been closed this whole time. Furthermore, I had lockpicked it a while back and found neither my dagger nor gemstone then. Well played, old man, but I was grateful you trusted the story known only to you.

Regardless, it was truly a relief to have both these items back. In the case of the gemstone, the emotional attachment to it was forced upon me by Solitaire. I didn't even want it, but I couldn't afford to abandon it after his terrifying warning when I tried to discard it. For now, it didn't glow red, and Solitaire was absent upon our reunion—I wondered if it would glow or show any sign of a failed contact like a beacon. I didn't even know if he had tried to reach me in these few days at the Crawley mansion.

But the dagger held more importance to me than a lifeline—it was precious and magnificent, despite its age and rust. I would never forget the sensation of its blade cutting through the flesh of the beast, the warmth of blood, and the death throes I witnessed. As I observed my barely visible reflection on its blade, I kept wondering, when would be the next time I would experience this wonderful feeling?

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The next day, I felt better than before and could already sense the upcoming farewell with this noble family. Even though I had not quite enjoyed the stay there, I was still grateful for their help, shelter, and the food provided every day—or at least I should have been. But with every word I heard from the conversation Michael had with his butler, more fury boiled up in my guts. Leaning against the wall near the door frame to the housemaster's bedroom, I overheard Michael speaking.

"I thought of giving him a chance as a harvester, but I don't believe he'll be of any use to them. After all, he was accompanied by another hunter who likely slayed that darewolf."

It was an outrageous claim, considering I was the one who had taken down the beast. But even more hideous was the butler's following question.

"Then it's a good thing we called the guards here. They'll arrive tomorrow. Why don't we tell him?"

Michael sighed heavily before replying, "They're from Wülgenville. He's quite-"

Before he could finish, I quietly slipped away into the mansion's depths. So, this was how it was going to be? I was being sold out after all. Too bad I was fully aware of this now, Mr. Crawley.

Night fell upon the mansion; lights were out, and both tenants and servants slept tight—except for me. Gathering a few items from the warehouse, I left them in the dining room, then took my dagger and sneaked into the chamber of the house owner. Michael Crawley wasn't sleeping, but sitting by his bedside, gazing at the moon through his spacious window. As I closed the door, he sighed and slowly turned towards me.

"What is it, Lana, having nightmares aga-!?"

His body jumped slightly as he noticed me standing in the doorway. Though the lights were out, my silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight, that shone brightly that night. I took a step closer, and Michael didn't react until he noticed the dagger half-hidden behind my back. Then he jumped from his bed and asked in a half-whisper.

"What are you doing, Simon?"

I met his gaze and parried with my own question, "Why did you call guards from Wülgenville?"

He raised an eyebrow before answering, "I don't know why you dislike Wülgenville, but they're the closest guards to this place. They're good, they won't harm you."

Taking another step towards him, I pressed on, "Why did you call them in the first place?" Michael's mouth hung open in bewilderment; he frowned and said, "I wouldn't let you traverse these forests alone. Since we can't leave the mansion, I called guards to accompany you safely to town."

"Don't give me that bullshit! You sold me out, you sly piece of shit!"

Suddenly, Michael's arm glowed faintly, a small spark of fire appearing across his palm as he pointed it at me, his voice stern. "Don't come any closer, Simon."

I was taken aback by this sudden display. I had suspected for a while that magic might be a reality in this world—but to see it being used by someone like him? Why did fate always favour dirty nobles who deceive? Regardless, I had no desire to test those magical abilities on my flesh, but my body dashed forward in short zigzags, making it harder to aim for him. Michael missed his shot, and with one wide swing, I pierced his throat. He didn't scream; instead, bubbling sounds escaped his lips. His eyes widened as if they might fall from their orbits, clutching his neck but failing to staunch the bleeding before collapsing to his knees seconds later.

Looking down at his body, I felt superior and powerful. Not only had I killed the wicked beast but now a magic user as well—all without help from Solitaire! Enchanted by the sight of my victory, I failed to notice flames slowly spreading across the walls and roof. The mansion, mostly built of wood, was prone to such consequences of careless use of fire magic.

Before leaving, the door suddenly swung open, and in stumbled Elen in her nightdress. She looked sleepy and slightly scared, but upon seeing her father's lifeless body, the flames consuming the room, and my blood-stained figure, she screamed. It didn't last long; I swiftly ended her life as I had her father's—a quick slice across her throat. The terrified and accusing glare remained in her eyes until the end, even after she dropped dead on the floor.

Gathering the supplies I had left in the dining room earlier, I departed the mansion as quickly as possible. I heard doors rustling, wood cracking from the fire, and screams of terror, but it no longer concerned me. The front door was closed, so I broke a nearby window and dropped out of the mansion. Running away, I halted near the stables, where I stole one last thing from the family—a horse. Mounting it, I found myself to be a clumsy rider. It was to be expected, since I never rode a horse in my life. Regardless, it was still better than fleeing on foot amidst the chaos.

Before leaving, I glanced back at the mansion slowly being consumed by flames. Contemplating the question posed to me just yesterday, I whispered to myself with a mocking smile, "Perhaps I am a hunter after all."