The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

The town square of Anse Castle was alive. The people of the domain ate from tables laden with food and danced in celebration.

But Sevha was different.

From a corner of the square, he watched the bonfire blazing in the center, and nothing else. Though Edgar and Elise were dancing intimately nearby, his gaze remained fixed on the fire.

After a moment, Marina approached him, holding a bowl.

“Don’t just stand there. At least eat this.”

The bowl she held out contained lukewarm pumpkin soup.

“I don’t really want—”

“I brought this for you, so stop arguing and eat.”

At Marina’s insistence, Sevha tasted a spoonful. It was half-cold, but as the enduring sweetness spread across his tongue, a smile touched his lips.

“You made this, didn’t you?”

“My mother’s dying wish was for me to ‘make pumpkin soup for Master Sevha. He loves it so,’ she said.”

Sevha took another spoonful and smiled more brightly than before.

“You really do like sweet things, Sevha.”

“It’s not that I like sweet things. I like pumpkin soup.”

“Only because pumpkin soup is the only sweet thing we can make in Anse.”

Sweetness was a taste far from the moderation prized by his people. Sevha neither confirmed nor denied her claim, merely clicking his tongue.

Seeing his clumsy attempt to feign ignorance, Marina giggled and tapped her own lips with her index finger.

“I like sweet things, too. Can I have some?”

To Sevha, Marina was a sister, both younger and older at once. Without hesitation, he lifted the spoon to her lips.

But even after he granted her request, a bitter expression crossed her face.

“It’s sweet. And bitter, too.”

After her strange remark, she held out her hand, asking, “Will you dance?”

“I don’t—”

Before Sevha could refuse, Marina grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the blazing bonfire.

“Marina…”

“This is a Hunter’s Funeral, Sevha. The people of Anse are not supposed to mourn.”

When Marina invoked their tradition, Sevha let out a helpless chuckle and obediently let her lead him in the dance.

The dance of the Anse Tribe had neither grace nor gentleness. It was a simple act of holding hands and spinning in circles, a way to confirm that the other was still alive.

They danced, feeling the warmth pass between their clasped hands.

Whether from the exertion of the dance or for some other reason, Marina’s hand grew hotter and hotter in his. When it became almost too hot to hold, she stopped abruptly, squeezing his hand tightly.

The words seemed to escape her on their own.

“Sevha.”

“Yes?”

“What do you call it? This contradictory heart that doesn’t want to get closer, yet longs to be close?”

Hearing her voice the very feelings he had been wrestling with, Sevha flinched.

“What do you call this pitiful heart that wants to acknowledge something, but fears the anxiety that will follow?”

As if searching for an answer in him, Marina slowly drew nearer. When the distance between them was gone, she spoke again.

“What is the name for this heart, so afraid that if it speaks honestly, things can never go back to the way they were?”

She looked up at his face, but Sevha’s expression was blank. He had no name for the feelings she described.

It disappointed her that he couldn’t see the answer right there in her eyes. But the answer she herself had found was so large and brilliant that it eclipsed her disappointment.

She smiled brightly.

“I’ll endure it for now,” she said. “Patience is a virtue every Hunter of Anse must possess.”

Sevha did not know what Marina was enduring, but her smile was so brilliant that it felt wrong to question it. He simply nodded.

As if suddenly embarrassed, she let go of his hand.

“I-I’m hungry. I’m going to get another bowl of soup… Anyway, I’m going!”

Just as Marina scurried away, Sevha saw Edgar and Elise standing where she had been.

Elise was watching him with an irksome smile. The moment their eyes met, she approached.

“Dancing so intimately with a woman. You’ve grown up, Sevha.”

“We’re the same age.”

“And I, your contemporary, will soon be married to Edgar.”

Sevha just nodded silently. Thinking she had won a verbal spat, Elise chuckled.

Just then, Edgar said curtly, “Elise. You should get something to eat.”

“Yes. I’ll bring something for you both.”

Once Elise had left, Edgar looked at Sevha intently.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Marina.”

“What about her?”

“Her station doesn’t match yours. But neither I nor our people would care. The Anse have little regard for class.”

“What are you talking about?” Sevha retorted sharply.

Edgar fell silent, then began cautiously, “Elise.”

The moment Edgar mentioned her name, Sevha was, for reasons he couldn’t name, at a loss for words.

Edgar said nothing more. A silence passed between the brothers until Edgar patted Sevha’s head, as if to say it was all right.

“Sevha. There is something I came to understand after our parents passed away.”

“What is it?”

“A child becomes an adult by the measure of what they have lost.”

Just as Edgar’s advice resonated in Sevha’s heart, a sound cut through the night.

Screeeech!

From the eastern sky, the cry of a hawk echoed, louder than any sound from the festival. Sevha and Edgar’s expressions hardened as they turned toward the cry.

Screeeech! Screeeech! Screeeech!

The cries multiplied, drawing closer to Anse Castle from the eastern side of the Labyrinth Forest. It meant the scouts in the east were firing Hawk’s Whistling Arrows in rapid succession, signaling a crisis of the highest order.

The townspeople shed their festive mood and froze.

“What is…?” Edgar muttered.

The moment he spoke, flames erupted from the distant eastern beacons near the Right Wing Fortress. Five in all.

This signified only one thing.

Sevha, his face now a hunter’s mask, gave it a name.

“War.”

***

Right Wing Fortress

At the very top of the fortress tower stood a middle-aged man dressed as a Hunter. A soldier beside him watched the beacons ignite and reported.

“Fortress Commander! We’ve sealed the gates, lit the beacons, and sent a messenger to Anse Castle!”

In the County of Anse, where class distinctions were weak, the rank of knight did not exist. In its place stood the Fortress Commander.

The middle-aged man, commander of the Right Wing Fortress, nodded and looked out beyond the walls.

Below, nearly three thousand soldiers were arrayed in formation. The banner flying among them was the Imperial flag.

Certain of the enemy’s identity, the Fortress Commander shouted, “A message to the Imperial Army! By the Great Road Treaty, any unauthorized use of force in the County of Anse will be condemned! Disarm at once and leave our lands!”

Goldas, the Count of Dulka, rode out from the Imperial ranks. He looked at the fortress, smacked his lips, and smiled greedily.

From behind him, a priest from the Papal See emerged, unfurled a scroll, and read in a loud voice.

“I deliver the words of His Holiness the Pope! House Dan Anse was entrusted with the stewardship of the Great Road to maintain peace on the continent! However, they have forgotten the will of God and imposed harsh tolls to satisfy their own avarice! This can no longer be tolerated!”

The priest lowered the scroll and concluded his proclamation.

“Therefore, the Papal See declares the Great Road Treaty void and denounces House Dan Anse!”

The declaration was clear: the Papal See had betrayed Anse.

But the soldiers in the fortress showed no signs of agitation. Neither did their commander.

He stood at the very edge of the tower, looked down on the Imperial Army, and uttered coldly, “You have crossed the line.”

At his chilling words, Goldas flinched, then shouted back, “Enough with the useless bravado! Surrender! You are only three hundred men…!”

Before Goldas could finish, the Fortress Commander’s voice cut through the air.

“We are only three hundred! The enemy is over three thousand!”

He threw Goldas’s words back at him, then grinned.

“So let us smile and say this: What a relief that only we, only three hundred, have to die!”

Instantly, the soldiers and hunters on the walls grinned, mirroring their commander.

“Do not forget! The four fortresses of Anse do not exist to protect the hawk’s heart! They exist to endure until that heart can beat furiously again!”

As he spoke, his men nocked arrows to their bowstrings.

“So do not dream of victory! Do not fear defeat! Simply endure!”

Displeased by the commander’s lack of fear, Goldas waved his hand impatiently. A long horn blast echoed from the Imperial ranks, and with a roar, the soldiers charged.

The Fortress Commander watched them swarm toward the walls, took a deep breath, and let out one last thunderous cry.

“For us, there is neither victory nor defeat! There is only death for Anse!”

From atop the fortress walls, hundreds of arrows took flight.

***

Anse Castle Audience Chamber

Edgar sat on the lord’s throne, flanked by Marina and a group of Hunters. Sevha stood on the chamber’s terrace, looking down at the courtyard below, where even at dawn, Hunters moved about with grim purpose.

“Brother. Preparations are nearly complete.”

“What of the Left Wing and Two Talons Fortresses?”

“We received word. They will move according to your instructions.”

Edgar began to nod but stopped. He asked the question that truly mattered.

“Has there been any further contact from the Right Wing Fortress?”

Sevha bit his lip, then answered, “The messenger who arrived yesterday was the last.”

It had been three days since the Imperial Army had attacked the Right Wing Fortress. Contact had been lost since the day before.

“They held out for two full days before falling…” Edgar murmured. He showed a brief flash of sorrow, then said proudly, “Splendid.”

Sevha nodded, his expression hard as flint. “The Empire, and even the Papal See… That’s one hell of a stab in the back.”

“The time had simply come,” Edgar said, his assessment cold. “The Great Road Treaty was never going to keep the peace forever.”

As Edgar spoke, Elise hurried into the audience chamber.

“E-Edgar, Sevha. The Hunter who guided the messenger I sent to my father has returned. The messenger made it out of the County of Anse safely.”

Sevha and Edgar nodded calmly.

Marina and the other Hunters, however, stared at Elise with suspicion. Knowing what their gazes meant, Elise hastily defended herself.

“I-It’s true that I’m an Imperial noble! B-But I didn’t know the Empire would invade Anse! I swear it!”

As she cried out, Edgar rose from his throne and embraced her, saying, “Calm down.”

“Edgar, I… I…”

“I believe you,” he said softly. “I believe you.”

“Th-Thank you…”

After calming Elise, Edgar looked at Sevha.

“Sevha. To set the trap properly, we need to know the exact situation at the Right Wing Fortress.”

Sevha immediately walked toward the door. “I’ll go.”

“There’s no need for you to—”

“When you want to be certain, you use a sledgehammer to crack a nut.”

Edgar paused, then nodded.

With his brother’s permission, Sevha opened the door and called out to Marina and the Hunters.

“To the Right Wing Fortress!”