Even though both Rodger and Carlos appeared enthusiastic at the prospect of hunting together, Varre decided to join them. He wanted to be sure the positive mood continued. It wasn’t that long ago when the two almost came to blows. Even though now the lord did his best to act as a generous host, there was always the risk of a new conflict breaking out over a minor misunderstanding. Especially when it came to something as important as hunting.

  For Rodger, it was his favorite pastime. He devoted most of his free time to honing his skills. The knight loved gallivanting through the woods on his courser, chasing down animals and delivering the final blow. He loved skinning the animal properly and teaching others how to do so. He loved the following feast too.

  Everything about the process was covered by a deep and storied layer of honor. Each step was meticulously studied by men like the lord of Ashbourne, and had a lengthy history. There was plenty of symbolism too. Older, experienced hunters loved to show off their knowledge and scoffed at those who didn’t take it as seriously. They may have made exceptions for guests like Varre, those who lived in more civilized places and only travelled to the wilderness for the experience, but amongst each other, the process was sacred.

  Carlos on the other hand treated hunting as his profession. He had spent his entire life in the Gomeran forest, learning ancient methods and techniques from the moment he was a boy. For him, hunting was a way of life, not just a hobby. Efficiency took precedence over symbolism. It was more important to deliver fresh meat to feed his family than to experience the thrill of the chase.

  Still, the two had much to learn from each other. Though the king’s decision to join them complicated the process quite a bit. Rather than a simple, quick outing between new friends, a massive force of Royal Guards needed to ensure the monarch’s safety. Elvira, Sofia, and the twins had to finish up their work and assemble outside, in case anyone needed medical treatment. Even Etty dressed up in her hunting outfit and waited outside with her father, not wanting to miss out on the experience.

  Altogether it took about an hour to get everyone ready. The group set out together, with the elves even saddling up on top of borrowed horses. It took a while for them to feel comfortable on the mounts, but they could practice moving around the hamlet while they waited for the others.

  They didn’t make it very far. Just ten minutes after leaving the safety of the palisade, Carlos jumped off of his courser and crouched down, rummaging around the mossy ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Rodger asked, as he rode his horse closer.

  “I think I’ve found some tracks,” the archer replied, studying some barely visible indentations in the soil, “do you think this is the deer your men found?”

  The lord turned to speak with one of his assistants. Once an appropriate target had been spotted, the tracker would typically return to the manor and inform the nobility. Then, they’d plan their route, anticipate the animal’s next movements, and set out again, searching for fresh signs of its presence.

  “It seems like it,” the lord confirmed, “we found some droppings further North. We still had a ways to go.”

  Carlos nodded. “You picked a fine target. A healthy stag. It will feed a lot of people.”

  “You’ve got some good eyes,” Rodger chuckled, “even the dogs haven’t picked up the scent yet. Lead the way!”

  The group followed the elf deeper in the woods. They had to use narrow animal paths, but with the archer travelling on foot, he could easily direct them between the obstacles.

  Soon, they came upon the stag. Carlos warned them to stop early, and both Rodger and Varre dismounted, ready to examine the target from a safe distance.

  “It’s eating right now,” the archer whispered and pulled an arrow from his quiver, “I can take it down quickly.”

  “Don’t!” the lord hissed and grabbed his hand, “why don’t I show you my way first?”

  Carlos nodded and lowered his bow. Rodger pulled back and gestured some commands to the rest of his men. The dog handlers have already been spaced out through the forest, so the hunt could proceed as planned.

  Once the archer was mounted on his horse again, the lord blew into his horn. Varre was already familiar with the process, having witnessed it a few times himself, but the elves were shocked by the strange methods. They heard about the noble ways of hunting during yesterday’s feast, but they thought those were just exaggerations. The aurochs seemed like an exception. Not the rule. To them, shooting the target from a safe distance was obvious.

  Instead, the entire group threw themselves into a wild chase after the fleeing stag. At the given signals, handlers released fresh dogs to keep up the pressure on the animal, and eventually, it was too tired to continue. It started to defend itself, at bay.

  “Do we shoot it now?!” Carlos asked, confused as to why the animal was being surrounded from all sides. It seemed unnecessary. He could hit a stationary target like that since he was ten years old.

  “We could, but where’s the honor in that?” Rodger chuckled, “no. the stag needs a fair chance to fight back. I hope you don’t mind, Varre! I know your skills are impressive, but I’d like to show our guests every step of the way.”

  The king did not mind and allowed the lord to continue. The knight pulled out a lance, while the stag bellowed at the barking dogs all around it. The handlers kept the hounds at a distance, until they received a new signal. Then, the dogs were pulled back further. Now, the deer could fully focus on his enemy. It was a proper, honorable duel. Man against animal. As nature intended.

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  With a yell, Rodger threw himself forward. It was obvious he had done this hundreds of times before. He expertly avoided the sharp antlers and pierced the stag’s neck with a powerful blow, without even stopping his charge.

  The kill was instant. The animal didn’t even have time to feel it. An accurate hit like this allowed the hunter to keep the skull, antlers, and the meat in pristine conditions. Even the skin could be easily dried and reused.

  Sofia sighed. “At least it’s not as cruel as what you did to the aurochs.”

  Carlos ignored her comment. “Impressive. But the arrow would be safer,” he said, once the lord returned with a smile on his face.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Rodger laughed, “come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to try it!”

  “They’ve barely had the time to learn how to ride a horse!” Varre interjected, “I don’t think they’re ready for a charging attack.”

  “Yes, if I had to use a melee weapon, give me a good, solid spear. I’ll approach it on foot, avoid the antlers, and stab straight. Just as deadly as you!” the archer mimicked the motion.

  “That’s brave in its own way,” the lord noted, “but it’s nowhere near as powerful, my friend. Don’t forget, while honor is important, we’re not just doing this for fun. This is an important lesson to each knight. Once you’ve struck down a stag with a lance, you’ll be able to do the same to your enemy in battle. That’s the real lesson here today.”

  “Hmm. I can see how a massive horse like that could run down a few goblins,” Carlos acknowledged, “maybe there is some truth to what you say. But tomorrow, I will show you how we elves hunt! You’ll see! It’s much faster!”

  Rodger grabbed and shook the archer’s hand. “I’m looking forward to it my friend!”

  -*-*-*-

  The next few days passed quickly. More and more wounded kept recovering, giving the mages more time to share their knowledge with each other instead of applying poultices. As the elves got better, some of them decided to join Ashbourne’s serfs and servants, observing them as they worked. Both groups learned from each other, even though very few guests could speak the Logresian language.

  Carlos and Rodger meanwhile continued to travel to the woods together, finding more efficient ways to track animals and trying out each others’ weapons. They’ve even encouraged Varre, and a few of his most experienced Royal Guards to join them.

  The king still had much to learn when it came to shooting arrows though. He could reliably hit a deer’s side, but doing so wasn’t always enough to kill. The neck was still too small a target for him.

  But this idyll wouldn’t last forever.

  Once it was clear that the refugees were improving, it turned out that most were happy to remain in Ashbourne. Varre kept reassuring them that they were welcome to stay, and many did not want to risk their lives, trekking through the deadly Gomeran forest again. They’ve already seen the risks first hand. Even if they could get a chance to live with their cousins in a proper elven nation, few were ready to take the gamble.

  Carlos understood their decision, but he did not agree.

  “Are you sure about this?” Varre asked him, as soon as he learned of the elf’s intentions.

  “Yes. You are a kind ruler, and I know that my people are safe with you,” the archer replied, “the road has been hard on them and they deserve to rest in safety if they want to,” he looked into the monarch’s eyes, “but the war is not yet over. I am needed elsewhere.”

  “I understand,” the king said, “I know that the refugees could use someone like you here. With your help, they could be trained into a proper fighting force. But not everyone is meant for war. Maybe it’s best to let them enjoy some peace, away from the fighting.”

  “Thank you,” Carlos smiled sadly, “I’ll make sure to beat those bastards back, so we can all return to home. And as soon as the war’s over, I’ll return. Then, we will celebrate again!”

  Varre shook the elf’s hand, then turned to Sofia. “What about you? Will you be leaving as well?”

  “No. We healed the worst injuries, but some people still need my help,” the woman looked towards the upper level of the manors, with the makeshift hospital, “and we’re not safe yet. As long as the war continues, there will be others that need help.”

  “Do you think they’ll travel here too?” Varre asked.

  “Maybe. The road is hard, and many will get lost,” Sofia explained, “and the heart of the forest is deadly. Many will prefer to avoid it. They will stumble on your lands, somehow. Like we did.”

  “If they make it to my kingdom, then they are welcome to stay. I’ll make sure to direct them here, where they can stay with their own people. And excellent healers,” the king winked.

  “Maybe we can send some people into the forest to show them the way. Carlos, you should tell others of this place,” the woman urged.

  “If they follow the shortest route, they’ll stick close to the Grey Mountains,” Varre theorized, “then they’ll end up North of here. I’ll need to send some messengers and inform my magistrates of the situation. Can’t have them panicking about elves showing up everywhere.”

  “If I may make a suggestion, your majesty,” Elvira chimed in, “I think it will make sense to leave some of your healers here. I’m sure their experience will help. And they’ll be able to learn from the elves.”

  The king nodded. “Good idea. I don’t know how many refugees will come, but if Ashbourne will be too small to take care of them all, we could send up other field hospitals. Perhaps further North, where the route is easier. Eventually, they might need places to live too. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “We will destroy the goblins before it ever gets that far!” Carlos exclaimed, then his voice softened, “but thank you. Our warriors will fight better knowing that our young and sick are in a safe place. I will spread the word.”

  Soon after, the archer and several volunteer warriors left the safety of Ashbourne and traveled back home, through the dark and dangerous wilderness. Varre made sure to refill their supplies as best he could. With their hunting experience, they were able to fully feed themselves on the road, but they wouldn’t be able to craft their own medicine, bandages, or tools without specialized craftsmen. And those were far away.

  Eventually, it came time for the king to leave too. As much as he enjoyed the change of pace from the busy city of Westbridge, he had a country to run. He couldn’t stay away from his responsibilities for too long, even if his advisors were skilled enough to manage most issues without him.

  The situation with the elves had stabilized and the monarch had to return. He also had the goblin threat to consider now. While the rest of his Council was confident that they wouldn’t be a threat anytime soon, he wasn’t so sure. It was best to prepare in any case. A more robust state, able to repel enemy invasions, would benefit his rule, regardless of whether the war actually came to be.

  Lord Rodger was sad to hear of the king’s decision, but he understood it well. Varre was simply a temporary guest, like he had been so many times in his youth. Some day, he’d return again. Like he always had.

  Etty though was less happy about the news. On the eve of the last day in Ashbourne, she offered the king a break from all the hunting. This time, she wanted to show him around her lands, without the danger or thrill of combat. While it may have been fun, violence wasn’t the only entertainment possible in Ashbourne. She planned to take him to her favorite spot. The Emerald Pond.

  Well, the original Varre's childhood friend. But what's the difference?