“What do you make of her?” Argonath asks Korek and Atres.
“She’s not intimidated by you, despite the differences in your sizes and reaches,” Korek says, “She knew exactly what stance to adopt to counter your advantage in size. She might be barely out of pigtails, but she’s clearly got combat experience and plenty of it.”
“She’s a worthy candidate, but you’ll have a hard time getting her away from that Temple. She’s made binding oaths that likely won’t let her take on more to a King,” Atres shrugs, “I think you’re wasting your time with this one. I don’t see a paladin, any paladin joining the King’s Guard.”
“There have been a few,” Korek shrugs, “Maybe we get another one.”
“Who raises their women like that?” Atres muses, “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. Yet, she seems to think that there’s nothing unusual about it, so that tells me that wherever she’s from, it’s a common thing.”
The trio is quiet for a moment, contemplating their assessments of her.
“Did either of you take a look at that tree she was wailing on?” Atres adds, “I don’t think I’d want to be on the receiving end of one of those punches. There were dents in that tree.”
“I don’t think she was punching you as hard as she’s capable of,” Korek agrees, “I’m not sure if she was being cautious because of her condition or if she was trying not to hurt you.”
“Maybe it was a bit of both,” Atres suggests, “I wouldn’t accept a bout in her condition at all. I’d have stuck with the tree.”
“She landed a couple of nerve strikes that hurt,” Argonath says, “I find that I want to see how much of an archer she is.”
Emlyn sits waiting quietly and chatting with Warrick a bit, who’s now in awe of Nia for having drawn the attention of the King’s Guard recruiters. “They only recruit the very best. They’ve passed Benger up, and I know how good Benger is.”
“Most likely, they’ll pass me up as well,” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ve taken my vows to the Goddess, and I’m no oath-breaker. Nor am I likely to swear another oath to some King that might conflict with my oaths to the Goddess somewhere down the road. That’s also likely why they passed over Benger.”
Warrick sits considering this for a while before asking her, “Why go hunting with them then? Why waste the time?”
“It’s not a waste of time,” Emlyn explains, “if I can make a few friends among the King’s Guard. That way, if I should ever need their help with anything as part of the business of my office, I am far more likely to get it.”
Just then, Argonath, Korek, and Atres ride up. Argonath is mounted on a showy, prancing black stallion that makes Snowflake lay her ears flat and snort dismissively.
Chuckling, Emlyn pats the mare, “Oh, you’re not impressed, are you? Don’t worry. I know that Stormflash is more to your taste.”
Warrick takes the lead on Oja’s horse, and they arrive at the house soon after. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll just go change and pick up my gear.”
Without waiting for an answer, Emlyn darts into the house and heads up the stairs. Stripping down to her waist, she takes a moment to add some bindings to keep her girlie bits out of the way of her bow.
She pulls the shift back on and then the gambeson, before she packs her clothing into a bag to take with her so that she can change back after the hunt. She drags out a woolen layer and pulls it on, before topping it with close-fitting leather pants and a leather jacket with a hood. She adds her belt with her blades, clips a hatchet onto her belt, and grabs a roll of knives for butchering and skinning. She pulls on her boots, which have clips for the cats' claws.
The stiletto is added to one sleeve, and the daggers are added to her boots. She grabs her bow and takes a hard look at her quiver, and frowns. Making a quick decision, she goes to Benger’s room and borrows a handful of arrows, shoving them into her quiver. Returning to her room, she puts on the backplate for the cats' claws and throws the other hooked plates into her bag. Argonath, Korek, and Atres wait patiently on the porch, making a small bet as to whether Warrick or Emlyn will be first to reappear.
To Korek and Atres’s dismay, Emlyn is the first to appear.
Argonath grins, “Both of you owe me drinks at the tavern later. I told you she wouldn’t take long.”
Argonath eyes her curvaceous figure with a lazy smile that he wipes from his face before Emlyn sees it.
As Emlyn moves to put her bag into the saddlebags on Snowflake, Argonath walks up behind her and taps the hooked plate on her back. “What’s this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
“You’ll see,” Emlyn replies with an enigmatic smile, “If I tell you instead of show you, you might not believe me about it, either.”
“Then will you answer something else for me?” Argonath asks, “Why do you have three different fletchings on your arrows?”
Reaching into her quiver, Emlyn feels for a moment and pulls out one of each. Handing him the ones with the plain grey fletching, she tells him, “These are mine. I made them.”
Handing him the one fletched with spotted pheasant feathers, “These I took from the bandits.”
Handing him the third arrow fletched with blue dyed feathers, she grins, “I borrowed these from Benger, and they came from the Temple.”
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Nodding, Argonath hands them back to her, where she pops them back into her quiver. Once Warrick reappears, having retrieved the present for his betrothed, the group heads back toward the fairgrounds. Once they’re in sight of the fairgrounds, Warrick breaks off with a friendly wave to rejoin his family.
“Shall we go find ourselves some elk or deer?” Emlyn grins, kicking her mare into a lazy canter.
Heading around the fairgrounds, Argonath pulls alongside her, “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No idea,” Emlyn grins back, “but I’m guessing further down the mountain is where the game will be, looking for food.”
“I have a place in mind,” Argonath tells her, “Follow me.”
They head away from the fairgrounds into a wooded area with little snowfall. Signaling for a halt, Emlyn clips on her cats' claws and climbs a tree in the same fashion that a bear or snow cat would. Argonath watches with interest as she scales the tree. She spots what looks like a herd, but has to maneuver around the tree trunk to get a better view. Argonath nods when he sees her hook the back plate to the tree trunk, allowing her to move both of her feet. A quick push to unhook the backplate, and she’s standing on two branches and gripping a third above her.
“So that’s what the plate is for,” Argonath remarks.
“I’ve not seen anything like it,” Korek replies, “It’s ingenious. That’s something our scouts could make good use of.”
While the men are still watching her, Emlyn is debating jumping to a nearby tree. Deciding that she does need to move, she leaps, and Atres’s jaw drops, and he inhales again when her claws find purchase and she scrambles up higher. “Not afraid of heights” is another factoid that Argonath files away.
Climbing back down, she draws out the area where the herd is grazing.
“If the three of you can circle behind them,” Emlyn directs, “and drive them this way, I should be able to get a few of them.”
Shrugging, the men take off while Emlyn climbs back up the tree. Shaking his head, Argonath, Korek, and Atres move off to circle behind the herd. Soon enough, the herd scents them and starts moving toward Emlyn’s position in the tree.
Once the elk are in range, Emlyn nocks an arrow and waits for her shot. One of the younger bulls turns and Emlyn launches her arrow, striking him squarely in the eye and felling him so quickly that the rest of the herd doesn’t even react. Moving swiftly, she targets another of the younger bulls and drops him just as quickly in the same fashion. One of the older bulls catches the younger bull’s collapse and raises his head to bugle an alarm, but the only sound is a gurgle as the arrow rips through his throat.
Seeing that the herd is getting restless, Emlyn chooses her next shot quickly, and another of the younger bulls is suddenly sprouting an arrow from his chest. He starts to run, but only gets a couple of steps before he too collapses. This spooks the herd, who take off, running and bugling. Scrambling back down the tree, Emlyn mounts her mare and goes to collect her kills. Argonath and his companions find her dragging the carcasses, with Snowflake’s help, toward the tree she’d been hunting from.
Working quickly, she begins to bleed and dress the carcasses, setting aside the hearts and livers, but discarding the rest of the innards. Curious, Argonath watches as she skins the first one, wondering what she has planned. She hands her hatchet to Korek and directs him to find a couple of stout, long saplings. She sets Atres the task of whittling some stout pegs.
As she’s dressing the last elk, a lone wolf, driven by hunger and drawn by the smell of blood, thinks to chase her away from her kill. Wolves are common enough where she’s from, and she learned to deal with them at an early age. Without much thought, she waits for the wolf to charge her, as she draws her blades. She turns to keep him facing her, and when he finally charges, she kicks out, catching him under the chin and lifting him onto his hind legs.
Twisting slightly, she skewers him with a blade and waits a moment for him to stop twitching before returning calmly to her task. She’s occupied with finishing so that they can leave before the smells draw more predators. Argonath, Korek, and Atres all exchange a significant look at how calmly she’s dealt with the wolf.
Once she’s done with the last elk, she skins the wolf and adds the pelt to the pile on the improvised travois. Taking her hatchet back, she cracks the wolf’s jaws and pulls out the teeth, pocketing them.
Argonath has been inspecting her kills and gives a low whistle of appreciation. “Two of them, right through the eye. That’s exceptional.”
“I got the third before he could alert the herd, but I had to spoil the hide a bit by taking him through the throat. Having bagged three, I decided that I wanted a fourth one so that there’d be one for each of us,” Emlyn grins, “I couldn’t have done nearly so well without your help.”
“Let’s get back to the fairgrounds,” Argonath cautions, “before we attract more wolves.”
“That’s why I left most of the entrails. That will keep them occupied for a while and off our tails,” Emlyn explains, “Snowflake’s pulling enough weight that I don’t think she’ll be swift.”
Bowing formally to Argonath, Emlyn thanks him, “I thank you for the hunt. I haven’t done this in quite some time, and it has been quite enjoyable.”
“Are you certain that I can’t recruit you to the King’s Guard?” Argonath asks, “I think you’d be an excellent addition.”
“I am sworn to my Goddess,” Emlyn explains, “I cannot make other oaths that might conflict with those, nor would I be able to act in many of the ways that I know that you must because of my oaths. I couldn’t even consider such a thing without the sanction of my Goddess. I fear that I have my own path to walk. That doesn’t mean that our paths won’t cross again or that we need to be unfriendly with each other. There is one favor I would ask of you, though. Do you happen to know Abato Simcock?”
Surprised, Argonath nods and Emlyn grins wickedly, “Then do be sure to tell him what you saw today. I don’t think he quite believed me the last time we spoke. Should any of you three or Prince Armeniel ever require my assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. A request to the Temple would suffice.”
“How is it that you know the Crown Prince?” Argonath asks suspiciously.
“We met at a ball,” Emlyn shrugs, “We danced a few times. He was kind enough to send me an Induction Day present.”
Argonath gives her a wide-eyed stare, “You’re that girl. The one he was on about. The one we were instructed to investigate. He wanted to marry you, you know.”
“If my king still lives, I doubt that he would ever allow me to marry outside my people,” Emlyn shrugs, “As the second-highest-ranked general among my people, my marriage options were somewhat... restricted. I have yet to determine if any of our royal family still survives, so perhaps that might no longer be an issue. As for your prince, my lack of dowry and my oaths to the Goddess are likely the biggest impediments.”
At Argonath’s skeptical look, Emlyn shrugs again, “If it helps, I’m told that I’m probably the youngest ever to accomplish such a feat.”
When Argonath’s expression doesn’t change, Emlyn tries again, “I swear to you that I was Second Awst, but I had already cut a deal with the First Awst to replace him when he retired the next year. I was already taking over for him. That only left the king’s commander general above me.”
The flash of truth fires, and Argonath is stunned. “Are you sure there’s nothing I could do to lure you away from your Temple?”
“My reasons for remaining at the Temple are my own,” Emlyn shakes her head, “but no, there is very little you could offer that I might find more tempting than remaining where I am. That doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to help you when I can. Because of what I am, as a paladin, I cannot make other oaths. I won’t risk being severed from my patron deity a second time. I already have tasks laid out that will require me to have that connection. I am sorry, but honestly, if you ever need or want my assistance, send a request to the Temple.” At Argonath’s evident disappointment, Emlyn laughs, “Look on the bright side, you can call on me without having to pay me what I’m worth.”
Do you have elk, or anything like them, where you live?