Forest near the town of Malensk was one of the most popular locations in the entire principality, known for its beautiful natural scenery and the so called “blessed silence” that many pilgrims characterized as a gift from the gods themselves. That idleness that doesn’t last too long though, as the forest is also a favorite hunting ground for nobility, led by Yaroslav, the Grand prince of Malensk. Yaroslav himself wasn’t really a big fan of hunting, but it was always a good distraction for his evermore ambitious subordinates. But today’s hunting trip was a lot more different. Namely, his advisors and lieutenants appeared much more friendlier than usual, asking him about his health and future plans for military and administration and offering their “humble” opinions about many matters. He was childless and hadn’t designated his heir yet so they were probably sucking up to him so they could maybe, in some distant future, take hold of one one of the strongest principalities in fractured Belgorodian Empire, but they were trying really hard today for some reason. But he decided to ignore their fake smiles and focused solely on nature around him, responding to his advisors with a simple “No”, “Yes”. and “Maybe”. As he rode deeper into the heart of forest, feelings of peace and tranquility became ever more stronger, pushing his anxious thoughts in the background. But it didn’t last long, as his scouts returned, riding in full gallop.

-”My lord, a pack of boars just a few hundred meters ahead of us.”

Yaroslav sighed in frustration.

-“Alright, lets get this over quickly.”

-“His Lordship seems quite discontent. We can return back if you do not want to partake in hunting party.” A short bald men in luxurious red tunic rode beside Yaroslav, lowering his head in respect. Yaroslav at first looked away in disgust for a few moments and then turned to the bald horseman with a slight smile.

-“Ah, Dmitri… How wonderful you joined us. You shitty egghead! As if my day wasn’t already crappy enough. I’m grateful for your concern but I intend to finish this hunt.”

-“As you wish M’lord. Irritable bastard. He doesn’t even care to pretend to enjoy hunt.

The party continued towards their prey in silence through the dense evergreen forest. Yaroslav again started sinking inward, trying to reignite that blessed peace in his heart. His efforts were cut short yet again by his scouts, who informed him that the a pack of boars started dispersing and each went his own way. Now they’ll have to travel much further into forest, possibly for several hours at least. But Yaroslav had enough.

-“We’ll split up. I’ll go by myself.”

-“M’lord!

-“That would be very unwise of you…”

-“Please let us follow you…”

-“ENOUGH!” shouted Yaroslav at the top of his lungs, his booming voice echoing throughout forest.

The entire party went silent, waiting for their lord’s response.

-“We’ll meet again here in two hours. I’m going alone and that is my final. Good luck.”

He galloped away from his men as fast as he could, leaving them to murmur and curse between themselves. Ten minutes later he arrived at small creek, dismounted and let his horse drink and recuperate while he sat on an old rotten stump, contemplating about his future and the future of his principality. He had to appoint an heir to avoid any future internal struggles after his death. Not that he was at the death’s door, he was still full of vigor and strength for a 47-year-old, but his enemies, both internal and external, have more than once tried to assassinate him and grab his principality for themselves. But if he announces it, his subordinates will surely unite to remove him (or most likely kill him) and then he’ll have to pick another one and repeat the cycle. At one point he was even thinking about writing a will to give his power to the commoners and making Malensk a city-state republic. Not so much for the benefit of his subjects as it would be a great revenge for his hypocritical back-stabbing subordinates. He giggled at himself for even considering that idea, but he in the end realized that would just make even more chaos and could destroy his 20-year work on this prosperous city. After taking a sip of fresh cold water, he took his notes from his bag, put on his glasses for reading and started seriously contemplating about his principality’s future.

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-“Dmitri Ryazanovich - 51 years, average military skills, great financial skills, hated by almost everyone… Nay.

Kiril Ustashov - 45 years, has 20 years of military experience, loved by commoners, despised by clergymen, rash and arrogant… Nay.

Nikolai Batutin - 25 years, intellectual and theologian, benevolent and wise, fragile health, pushover… Nay again.”

He sighed in disappointment, looking at his candidates over and over for almost an hour, but to no avail. 13 of them, but none of them seemed like good enough for the place, at least for him. In the end he decided to call it a day and return to the designated place of meeting. He filled his flask with the fresh water from the creek and took a sip from it, only to suddenly spit it out. He examined the stream closely. Water seemed clean at first, but the more he looked at it, the more red it seemed to be. He was now sure- it was contaminated by blood. But whose blood? Human? Animal? He made a few steps upwards to see if the source of this contamination was near. Soon enough, an awful stench of corpse filled his nostrils and was starting to feel dizzy, but he kept going, with his right hand on his saber, prepared for any possible encounter with a beast or human. After several minutes of a slow and careful upward walk, he spotted a corpse of a boar, or what was left of it- it was torn to pieces and decapitated and streams of blood flowed into the water stream beside it. After checking the body from a distance, he started to hastily descend towards his horse when a loud cry of pain broke out not far from him, cry that sounded like that of horse. A panic started gripping Yaroslav and he started running downward as fast as he could, breaking through the bushes and thick branches of evergreen trees. Running like a madman, he didn’t notice the stones in front of him, slipped on one of them and rolled to where he had been thinking about his problems a moment ago, only to land several feets beside a huge yeti tearing up his helpless horse. The yeti initially staggered in confusion and shock, giving Yaroslav time to get up and unsheathe his saber.

-“A yeti?! In this time of year?

Seeing his weapon, yeti now slowly circling around him, showing off his bloodied teeth with the horse meat stuck between them. Everything around them seemingly went silent, two of them completely focused on each other, waiting for the other to attack. The stalemate was broken by the barking of the hunting dogs and the shouts of the hunters in the distance, which were getting louder by the seconds.

-“So they did send someone to follow me! Those bastards-”

Yaroslav’s trail of thought was suddenly interrupted by yeti’s roar, who dashed forward and swung his right hand towards Yaroslav. The prince parried the attack with his saber, wounding the beast by cutting his pinkie finger, but was pushed back by the sheer strength of that swing. Yeti roared in anger and he took a rotten tree trunk by the stream and threw it like a spear at the prince, who barely managed to dodge it by throwing himself aside. He quickly tried to get up, cursing every single specie of yeti he knew, but the speed of his opponent took him by surprise and before he could stand up and look at the direction of his beastly foe, he received a strong blow to his ribs and abdomen. Yeti kicked him with such force he flew towards the tree and buried his back into it and then fell on the rocky ground. Yeti was now slowly approaching him, with a sinister grin on his face. Yaroslav tried to get up, but horrendous pain in his abdomen and back prevented from moving entirely. He watched in desperation as his opponent stood above him, with a stone the size of a human head in hands, ready to crush him.

-“What… a stupid… end…”

Yeti raised the rock above his head. Yaroslav closed his eyes, waiting for the beast to finish him. For a moment everything around him was silent.

Thomp

Something big fell right beside his head, its impact blowing dust into his face, and yeti let out a cry of pain. He opened his eyes again. His vision was blurry, but he could still see that giant blue yeti, but he also saw something long and black stuck in his upper back, his lower back almost completely red. Then, a war cry. Definitely a human voice, and a familiar one. He raised his head his head to better see what was happening, but even more dust was blowing in his direction, but not by the wind. Rather it was caused by constant movement of the yeti and some human figure in armor with a sabre swinging at the blue beast. Yeti was swinging his hands in fury, but his human opponent managed to fend off his attacks. And then, several small creatures attacked yeti, barking at it and biting it. Yeti threw them off and then started running away, followed by this four pedal creatures. Dogs? He wouldn’t been able to recognize them without their barking, his vision becoming more blurry, his body cold and feeling like he was slipping into darkness.

-“M’lord, wake up!”

Yaroslav opened his eyes one more time. Before him was that same man who fought yeti, holding his hand and calling him lord. His voice sounded familiar and the symbols on his armor were that of Malensk and some other symbol he couldn’t remember what it represented. As he was slipping back into unconsciousness, it dawned on him.

-“Aleksandr… Little Aleksandr Bogdanovich…”

He tried to call his name, but the wounds and exhaustion finally caught up to him and everything went dark.