Rederick stood before Albara’s home, his helmet hanging loosely at his side, the other hand clenched into a tight fist. His gaze lingered on the weathered wooden walls, their surfaces seeming to trap the prisoners of his past memories he couldn’t outrun. ′Damn memories,′ he muttered, his voice low, bitter. ′I can’t leave them behind.′

  His lips moved, barely forming the words as they seemed to leave his mouth, ′Why did I make these sacrifices?′ The question, soft as a breath, vanished into the still air. Even if he had shouted it, there would’ve been no one to hear.

  The sound of boots crunching on the grass drew Rederick’s gaze upward. He glanced at the sky briefly before turning to the figure walking toward him. Kian’s steps were almost a dance, carrying with them the unmistakable energy of someone happy to be in the company of a friend and excitement of youth. As he drew closer, though, his steps slowed, as he noticed the distant look in Rederick’s eyes.

  ′Rederick,′ Kian called, his voice softening. ′What are you doing out here? Is it already time to train? It doesn’t look like you’re in the mood for sparring.′

  He looked almost like a corpse, nothing like the man that was first met. After the beast, everything about him had changed. His face changed as if he was turning into a skeleton by a curse. Slowly he was becoming like Albaras without his attitude, always hiding behind his helmet.

  Dark rings shadowed his eyes, and his skin looked like it was stretched onto it by force. His voice was surprisingly the same as he spoke, but there was something fragile about it, as though it might crack or simply give out entirely if he spoke for too long.

  ′A few weeks ago,′ he began, each word measured, ′we faced a maniac in battle. Someone who should’ve been dead. We fought him. We thought we’d stopped him, but he escaped.′ He paused, thinking about his next words while memories of the past returned. his gaze wandered off fixated on nothing or maybe on ghosts, just something no one else could see.

  His jaw tightened as he continued. ′We don’t know where he is now. We don’t know what he’s planning. Maybe he is even here, hiding, waiting, turned into a hunter like me.′

  Another pause, it almost looked like he could fall over at any moment. Exhaling sharply to be just in balance, shoulders stiffening as though bracing for another blow of bad luck. ′And today,′ he said, quieter this time, ′we got word that a hunter has gone rogue.′

  His hand clenched at his side, trembling for a moment before steadying. ′Given the circumstances,′ he said, his voice trying to sound like a leader, ′it’s safer for us to stay together as a team. This entire picture felt wrong, But something, as if from the universe itself, signaled that it would only get worse. He hesitated, his eyes narrowing. ′Where one man goes, others will follow.′

  Kian nodded, unsure of what to say but feeling the weight of his words, like they demanded some kind of response. Before I could find one, the door to Albaras’ home creaked open, metallic boots and the creaking of the floor from where they hit was heard clearly. Snapping our attention toward the entrance.

  He stepped out, his blackened armor seeming to drink in the sunlight, as though it carried the shadows with it. He put a deep purple cloth over his armor. His weapons hung at his side just like always. His trusted sword and axe. On his back he carried a new kite shield instead of the previous wooden one, this one was made out of steel.

  ′Alright, boys,′ Albaras called out, his tone brisk but laced with an edge of dry humor. ′We’re going on a little trip.′ He strode past us, heading toward the stable. ′Get your horses ready. No time to lose, we must make up for it.′

  Rederick glanced at me; his gaze heavy with something unspoken. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but before I could, he was already moving past me. His hand ruffled my hair briefly as he walked away. It struck me, in that fleeting moment, how someone who looked so worn, so weighed down by life, could still find the energy to keep on going. What the reason needs to be founded still.

  At the stable, Albaras mounted his horse, Machi, with practiced ease. The steed pawed the ground as if sharing its rider’s impatience. Albaras turned in the saddle. ′We’re heading to the great lodge he said with a chuckle. The Duke men have arrived, and I intend to find out what’s about to change around here.′ Without waiting for a response, he tugged the reins, leading the way out of the stables. Kian took his horse as fast as he could but even then. Rederick was just as fast taking it easy and slowing down when getting on the horse. They left together following Albaras behind. Luckily most of this is open terrain.

  Upon reaching the great lodge, they dismounted, leaving their horses to graze freely in the field. Armored steeds, tethered to thick wooden posts, lined the perimeter of the lodge. Their armored forms seemed strange compared to the hunters’ lean, fast steeds.

  The lodge loomed ahead, its timber walls weathered by time, the faint scent of smoke and pine drifting from within. As they approached, voices were already audible through the cracks of the doorway.

  The moment Albaras stepped inside, the room fell silent. People talking in groups around a long wooden table turned their heads, their gazes sharp on Albaras. ’How are you all doing, pile of old bones,’ Albaras said as he stepped in.

  From the far end of the lodge, a man stepped forward. His face was a patchwork of scars, one eye sealed shut by an old wound. His remaining eye, almost of pure white, locked onto him as he approached.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  ′Why are you here?′ he asked, his voice a rasp that grated like steel against stone. ′You weren’t summoned yet.′

  Rederick and Kian stepped beside Albaras. ′I know what you are doing here.’ Albaras chuckled. ’I think you’ve forgotten, I’m part of the latest generation too. That means I deserve to be here just as much as you.′

  He tilted his head slightly. Though his face was hidden, you could feel his smile beneath the armor. It was unnerving how the metal itself seemed to shift, molding into place just so he could make that small, deliberate motion. Before the veteran with the eye patch could answer began Albaras again

  ′I can’t help it if I’m so good at what I do,′ he said, his tone light, almost amused. ′Still taking contracts. Still hunting. Unlike all you old bones.′

  Even with his chuckle, those words were felt by the veterans. It was hard to tell if he was mocking them outright or simply poking fun in his own way. They didn’t speak, they knew Albaras too well to that. Even then, those words still soured them all.

  With a deep sigh they began looking to his companions. Until now, only stories of them were heard. They whispered that these were Albaras’ recruits. The knight standing beside him looked around. For some reason he held his weapons. Some leaned on it, others used it as some sort of stress relief, he looked ready for a fight.

  Between the groups of old men stood some soldats of a foreign land, if you can even call it that. They looked at Albaras trying to slowly back off letting the veterans of old deal with it. Their hands shook as they reached for their weapons, but stopped short, hovering above them as if they were getting ready for a quick draw.

  One soldat, more heavily plated than the others with red trimming on his armor, was the only one who didn’t react like the others. Instead, he stepped forward. It was slow for the other soldats.

  ′Good afternoon, sir,′ he said, bowing slightly putting his hand to his chest. ′My name is Maurot. I served as commanding officer where Wilhelm met his end.′

  ′Not a great first impression, is it?′ Albaras said, his voice edged with dry humor. ′Letting your protector die while you were in command?′ He extended his hand for a handshake.

  Maurot looked at Albaras motion,what was this gesture? He hesitated. His eyes flicked between Albaras′ hand and face, uncertain on what to do. Slowly, he mirrored the gesture. His grip was hesitant, unsure of its meaning.

  Albaras grabbed it. Shaking his hand firmly, noting the knight’s lack of confidence. ′I’m Albaras,′ he said. ′Looks like I’ll be doing your job now.′

  Maurot cleared his throat, getting his words together. He exhaled sharply. ′You say you know him, then do you know how to find him.′ He left no trace of what Albaras had tried to provoke.

  Albaras nodded, releasing Maurot’s hand. ′I know everything, my dear Maurot. Of course, I can bring the rogue to you.′

  Maurot looked stone-cold at Albaras. ′Then I’ll make it official of what we have all discussed, I want you to track him down. The Dukedom can’t find him, so you need to. There is also the need to bring him to us alive. Only then will you get rewarded.′

  Albaras let out a deep, demonic chuckle that echoed through the building. ′I will accept the contract.′ He strode toward the exit, his laughter trailing behind him.

  For a moment, it was all that remained filling the hall, clinging to the walls, stretching longer than it should have. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. As if it had never existed at all. As if it had only been a trick of the mind. The veterans let it pass, but some of the soldats began to collapse down on the floor as if it had taken over their minds.

  Rederick grabbed Kian’s arm, who was staring at the soldats lying on the floor, searching for a reason on why they are almost crying. Rederick brought Kian with him outside. ′Get ready to travel. I have a feeling he is going to have it his way.′

  Outside, they saw Albaras already mounted, his horse poised to ride off. Was he planning to leave without us?

  Rederick shoved Kian onto his horse so fast it almost knocked the wind out of him, before mounting his own. He galloped after Albaras, his voice rising as he closed the distance. The only thing Kian could do was try to catch up.

  ′What did you do?!′ Rederick shouted. ′Why did you take that contract? Who is he?′ His anger burned through every word. A fire that had almost burned out rose again.

  Albaras barely looked back, but his voice carried over the wind, laced with its usual mocking undertone. ′I know that man. A fine hunter. And not long ago, someone I could have called a friend.′

  For once, there was something different in his tone, something almost imperceptible. Buried beneath the mockery he wanted us to believe.

  ′I respect him,′ Albaras continued. ′Not just because I like him, but because he’s survived over twenty years in this line of work. That deserves respect. And more than that, it makes him like me. The last of the old guard still active.′

  He fell silent for a moment, then finished, his voice unreadable.He deserves a proper ending, by one of his own′

  A chuckle bubbled up from Albaras, slow at first, then growing, creeping into the space between them. This time, this one time it became too much. He thinks that’s an excuse. He thinks he can just forget his worries. ’How is it that you use us as puppets. Why do you let me know but keep the boy in secrets.’ Then Rederick snapped. ′How is it that you always take on the most dangerous tasks with such glee knowing you have a CHILD at your side? You need to stop. Quit it. Let him flourish instead of leading him to die in some forgotten place. Just. Keep. Me.′

  Albaras turned his head slightly, everything was silent no sound of the horses, no chirp of insects, and Kian sounded as if he were gone from existence. ′It is not yours to question me, or do you want your rematch?′

  No chuckle. No laugh. Just empty words meant true.

  Rederick’s face retreated, avoiding Albaras’ helmet. ′I... I can’t.’ There is still something I’m destined to dobefore your hands go around my throat. He let out a deep sigh before falling back into line.

  Kian finally closed in, catching up to Albaras and Rederick. It seemed they were just done talking.′What did he ask for?’ Curiosity burned in him, wanting to know what had just passed between them.

  Albaras ignored him, his focus set ahead. ′We’re heading back to Dukedom, he said with a laugh, ′Think of it as a fun little trip, full of new adventures.′

  They rode along the familiar roads always a welcome way to travel, dust rising beneath their horses’ hooves. As they neared the border of Drech, a lone guard stood watch, his armor catching the dull afternoon light.′

  ′Well, hello there. How’s your day going?′ Albaras asked, his tone almost too casual.

  The guard snapped a salute. ′All quiet here, sir.′ He hesitated, then added, ′Good luck on the contract.′

  Albaras gave a brief nod, as the trio continued past, the rhythmic sound of hooves accompanying us as we made our way towards our first stop, the von Houzen estate.