The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

Beneath a gray sky, Anse Castle stood defiant.

Hunters lined the castle walls. Above the gate stood Sevha and Edgar, the brothers’ gazes fixed on the plains outside.

The Imperial Army was arrayed before them, ready to begin the siege at any moment.

“About fifteen hundred... You killed a lot of them in the forest, Sevha.”

“I didn’t kill them. They offered up their own lives.”

For the past week, the Imperial Army had clawed its way through the forest ambushes. They had cleared a path not with their weapons, but with their corpses. 

As a result, they reached Anse Castle having lost nearly half their men.

“Brother, why are they doing this? Why now, in winter?”

The winters in the County of Anse were among the harshest on the continent, thanks to the Frost Mountains to the north. To wage a protracted war in the bitter cold, with supply lines already strained by the forest, was madness.

And yet, the Imperial Army that had reached Anse Castle was too small to take a fortified position quickly.

“Either their commander is an incompetent fool, or there’s a reason we don’t know.”

Just as Edgar finished speaking, Elise appeared on the gatehouse roof, flanked by the soldiers from her marquisate.

“Edgar... the messenger I sent to my father never returned.”

Marina followed them up. “My Lord Count, there’s still no word from the Hunters of the Left Wing and Two Talons fortresses. They were the ones conducting the ambushes.”

“Something has happened to the Marquis, and to our Hunters,” Edgar said, assessing the grim situation.

Just then, a herald and a priest from the Papal See approached the castle from the Imperial lines. They announced that the Pope had broken the Great Road Treaty and excommunicated the House of Dan Anse.

It was news they had already heard, but hearing the Papal See’s betrayal announced so formally sent a tremor of unease through the Hunters on the walls.

Noticing their disquiet, Elise stepped forward and shouted to the herald.

“I am Elise, second daughter of Marquis Schreier of the Empire, and the fiancée of House Dan Anse! To attack this castle where I reside is an insult to my house!”

At Elise’s cry, the herald’s eyes darted about for a moment before he answered.

“Your father, Donovan Schreier, has committed the crime of colluding with the County of Anse! His eldest son, unable to condone this treason, has put Donovan to death, inherited the title, and severed all ties with your house! Therefore, Elise Schreier, you are commanded to come out of Anse Castle at once and submit to Imperial investigation!”

Elise’s father was dead.

Now Sevha understood why her messenger had never returned. There was only one option left.

We fight. We drive them out, or we die trying.

Ready to kill and be killed, Sevha tapped Edgar’s shoulder. He gestured with his eyes toward the Hunters, who were still reeling from the news of the Papal See’s betrayal.

“You are the Lord of Anse.”

Understanding Sevha’s implication, Edgar took a deep breath and roared, “Heed the Hawk of Diaka!”

Startled, the Hunters stared at him.

“The Hawk of Diaka!”

As Edgar called out the name again and again, the Hunters raised their heads to the sky.

But when they saw nothing but the gray, empty expanse, Edgar grabbed Sevha and shouted again, “The Hawk of Diaka!”

The Hunters’ eyes shifted to Sevha.

Edgar met each of their gazes in turn, then cried out one last time: “The Hawk of Diaka!”

The moment they understood who Edgar’s hawk was, Sevha drew and fired an arrow at the feet of the Imperial herald and the priest.

Startled by the warning shot, the two men fell to the ground and scrambled away in a panic.

Watching them flee, Sevha cried out for his people to hear, his voice ringing with authority.

“Hawks of Diaka! Have the invaders take line before the Hall of Just Judgment!”

A roar went up from every Hunter on the walls.

Edgar clapped Sevha on the back, as if to say well done, then turned to Elise.

“Elise, your brother won’t abandon you. Surrender to the Empire. Go.”

Elise stared, stunned by his suggestion.

Then she blurted urgently, “No! I’m staying with you! I am your fiancée!”

Hearing her desperate cry, a gentle, pleased smile touched Edgar’s lips. He pulled her into an embrace.

“I love you.”

Sevha watched them for a few silent seconds.

Then, the first flakes of snow began to fall from the gray sky. The harsh winter had arrived at the gates of Anse Castle.

Behind the Imperial Army, a man on horseback appeared.

It was Chaynebel. He raised his sword and shouted, “Attack!”

A horn blast echoed across the plain. The Imperial Army began its charge.

Immediately, Sevha whistled. The other Hunters whistled in concert. As the sound reached a piercing crescendo, every Hunter loosed their arrows at once.

A rain of death swept over the Imperial Army, but they did not stop.

Behind the charging infantry, Sevha saw a line of knights, their blades drawn. He understood at once.

If they flee, they die.

The Imperial soldiers—conscripts, really—had learned a brutal lesson in the forest: desertion meant execution. That fear was what drove them now, charging ferociously into the jaws of death.

But the Hunters of Anse were men who killed ferocious things for a living.

Unflinching, they let fly a ceaseless stream of arrows.

“Sevha! Aim for the ones carrying the ladders!” Edgar commanded.

Sevha quickly closed his eyes, then opened them. To his heightened senses, the men without ladders now looked like trees.

As if shooting prey between the trunks of a forest, he loosed arrow after arrow with deadly precision.

One. Another. And another.

Each time Sevha’s arrow found its mark, a ladder clattered to the ground somewhere on the battlefield.

But there were too many of them.

The soldiers Sevha couldn’t kill reached the wall and raised their ladders.

“G-go up!” they screamed.

Sevha ran toward the nearest ladders, bellowing, “Pour the oil!”

The Hunters tipped cauldrons of hot oil over the walls. Screams erupted from below, but they pushed the ladders away without a change in expression.

They repeated this again and again.

On a ladder right beside Sevha, an Imperial soldier’s face appeared abruptly over the parapet. It was melted beyond recognition.

Unfazed, Sevha brought his handaxe down on the soldier’s head. As the body fell, Sevha shoved the ladder away and looked out.

Soldiers bristling with arrows and covered in burns were crying and wailing as they scrambled up the ladders.

They must have made the executions for deserters truly sick.

Sevha knew the fear of their own commanders would not let them retreat easily. He also knew what would make them.

“Marina! Show them what they should truly fear in the County of Anse!”

At Sevha’s shout, Marina and the nearby Hunters took a small step back from the walls. The moment the first Imperial soldiers crested the top, they simultaneously buried their handaxes in the men’s necks.

Blood gushed from the fatal wounds, pouring down the castle wall in slick, red sheets. The faces of the soldiers still climbing were drenched in it. The severed heads and headless bodies tumbled down together.

The sight was brutal. Terrifying. Enough to make some of the conscripts finally break and run back toward their own lines.

“Don’t stop!”

Sevha, Marina, and the Hunters continued to slaughter the soldiers who made it over the wall, throwing the mangled bodies back down and piling terror upon those below.

This went on for an hour.

The base of the wall was a symphony of screams. Finally, the Imperial horn sounded again. The army broke and fled.

The Hunters fired arrows into their fleeing backs until they were out of range, then let out a ragged cry of victory.

But Sevha did not cheer. He stood in cold silence, looking out at the plains littered with Imperial dead.

Attacking Anse Castle with nothing but ladders?

The question he harbored became spoken word.

“Are they mad?”

***

Thick, white snow fell over the County of Anse.

While Edgar went to rest, Sevha remained on the wall, commanding the Hunters and watching the Imperial camp. Through the swirling blizzard, he could see the enemy soldiers shivering in the cold.

It was the third day since the army had made camp. It was also the third day of snow.

The biting cold of Anse had grown so severe that one’s breath instantly turned to frost. Yet strangely, after that first assault, the Imperials had neither attacked nor retreated. They simply remained, holed up in their camp.

Are they really planning to wage a prolonged war in this cold?

Just as Sevha concluded the Imperial commander had to be insane, he heard a sneeze beside him. He glanced over.

One of the Hunters was sniffling, rubbing his nose.

“Are you all right?” Sevha asked.

The Hunter grinned, though his nose was running. “If I couldn’t handle this cold, I wouldn’t have survived in Anse this long, Young Master.”

“Being stubborn might just mean you only survive in Anse until tonight.”

“Then tonight’s dinner will be my last supper,” the Hunter shot back with a jest. “Since it’s my last meal, I expect it’ll be more lavish than usual, yes?”

Sevha managed a slight smile, figuring he had no need to worry. “We have to conserve food, so I can’t promise lavish. But I can tell the kitchen to serve dinner early.”

The Hunters cheered, and Sevha headed into the castle with their enthusiastic send-off.

He passed men cleaning their weapons in the courtyard and entered the main hall, where Elise’s soldiers were gathered. They greeted him before heading outside to take their shift on the walls.

Leaving them behind, Sevha made for the kitchen. When he entered, he found Elise and her handmaidens baking bread in the hearth, their faces flushed with effort.

“Elise?”

She started in surprise. “Sevha? What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask for an early dinner. What about you? Where’s the castle staff?”

Elise scratched her cheek, a little embarrassed. “I told them to rest. We offered to make dinner tonight. Since we can’t fight, we should at least help in this way.”

“To start another fire?” he teased gently.

“Don’t worry! I’ll make delicious bread this time for sure!”

Elise rolled up her sleeves and puffed out her chest as if to say, Leave it to me.

Sevha saw the beads of sweat mixed with soot on her face and the grease-stained cuffs of her dress.

Her hands, he noticed, were trembling slightly. Was it from the strain of unfamiliar work? Or from the fear of being trapped in a besieged castle?

Seeing how hard she was trying, Sevha felt a new warmth toward her. She was a fitting lady for Anse, he thought.

From the unease and frustration he’d once felt, a quiet sense of comfort began to emerge.

He couldn’t name the feeling, but he followed it, thinking vaguely: When this war is over... I’ll find an answer for this.

Just then, Elise smiled. “In any case, we’ll have dinner ready soon. Would you go wake Edgar?”

“I will.”

Sevha left the kitchen and headed for the lord’s chambers. The room was so modest it was hard to believe it belonged to a count.

Edgar was sitting blankly on his bed, the terrace doors wide open to the snow.

“Brother, it’s time to... What are you doing?”

Edgar spoke without turning, his eyes fixed on the falling snow, the forest beyond, and a world even farther away.

“I had... a dream.”

“A dream?”

“It was of a young hawk taking its first flight, leaving the forest.”

“I don’t know about a young hawk, but since it’s the symbol of Anse, it must be a good omen.”

“A good omen, or...”

Edgar trailed off, then turned to look intently at Sevha. He walked over and gripped both of his shoulders firmly.

“Brother?”

“Sevha.”

“Yes.”

“The dream I had was a good omen,” Edgar said, his conviction as strong as his grip. “I believe it.”

Sevha found himself nodding, caught by his brother’s intensity.

Edgar’s expression softened into a bright smile. He tousled Sevha’s hair into a wild nest.

“Good. Now, shall we go to dinner?”

Just then, the castle bell rang, announcing the evening meal.