“Ranks for a hunter serve as a harsh reminder of what you’re capable of. Not something to boast about, but to keep your mind sharp for what you can kill, and your body steady for when you meet what you can’t.”. I recall my father teaching me those words. It was during my hunt for a stag to earn my rank as a hunter. It was the third rank, which, once earned, meant I was capable enough to survive in the forest by myself.
The second rank, which I had at the time of that ‘hunt’, meant I could survive a bear attack without scratch. The first rank, only a few hunters possessing it, meant you could kill a bear without a scratch. However, in older times, there were more ranks assigned to hunters, as magical beasts supposedly existed during that time. Due to my lineage, my father knew of the one above first, two more apparently existing as well, but not much was known about them, not even their names. The name of it was: beast hunters. Quite fitting for them of course. They were once something most living in the forest would aspire for, dream of every slept and waking moment of their life. And the condition to earn the rank was quite simple: kill a magical beast.
The reason, however, due to my father for example not even once attempting such a thing, was due to lost knowledge. For us, hunters, knowledge was the same thing as a bow or sword, a tool which allowed you to hunt properly without the risk of dying. So not having any knowledge which our ancestors had on magical beasts and the like, meant we should avoid these darker parts of the forest. Whether it was true or not that a magical beast rested in one of these regions, there was no reason to test such things unless you had a death wish.
With that being said, what I did was just that, a suicidal mission. Each rank for a hunter wasn’t just a step above, it was a whole world apart from the one prior. And I was two behind the required one. However, that didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of surviving, merely unable to kill a magical beast. At that time, by rank alone, I would’ve been unable to even survive an encounter. But both me and my father knew I was more than capable of killing a bear without issue, I just didn’t have my chance. If I were like him, without a wife and soon to be father, when he hunted his bear, we were confident I would have earned my first rank.
Even so, it wasn’t like I was confident I could survive, it was more of a coping line of thought in order to not fear what was ahead. That’s what I was thinking while resting under the roots of an old tree. The tree marked the end of what we considered a safe distance away from the Uneven Hill. Then I would only have to pass the river and, once again, I would be on that side, where me and my father found mom. It was also getting dark outside, as we decided this must be some day creature that sleeps its nights. Our reasoning was merely based on the fact that mom probably got over there around noon, drawn by who knows what. It wasn’t wrong to think that way, it just proved wrong later due to unlikely circumstances.
The last things I remember were that and me looking through my supplies, hearing something in the woods, and then crossing the river. After which I only knew I was walking for a while back home, still night at the time, although I would then find out a whole day had passed. For some reason, until I sat down by the side of the road leading back, no thoughts had passed through my head, it felt as if I was just returning from a hunt.
But once I sat down, I was confused, lost to why I was there to begin with. I checked my supplies, and I had more food that before, my sword was missing too, “I should’ve noticed” is what I thought at the time. It wasn’t in my nature not to notice such things, yet there I was, completely unaware of everything.
It took me more than an hour or so until I regained all senses and my awareness was back into its place. But still, I couldn’t remember what I was doing out in the forest, why my sword was missing and why I could recall having more food than before and how I should’ve had less.
Paralysed by thoughts, the one who broke me out of it was a stranger, hard to see due to the night, wandering the forest like a lost child. He had even footing but didn’t know his way around, so I could tell at a glance he was used to travel but not through my forest. A rule for hunters was not to kill humans, but because of my condition, I grabbed my bow and placed an arrow loosely between my fingers. It was so I could give the stranger the message, not to approach me, but that they may pass if that’s what they wanted.
However, despite my obvious warning, the stranger still came closer. Not brazenly, but cautious with their hand on a shortsword that was slightly pulled, a warning from their side too. Once the stranger came closer, I told them to “Speak of your business.”.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The soft voice of a man responded to me “I came here due to word that a woman has been afflicted by an unknown illness.”. His words sparked my memory, in an instant I could remember the reason I was there. Panicked, I raised in an instant at the thought of it, the man pulling out his shortsword. There was something he feared, and it wasn’t due to me holding my bow I could tell. “Have I been drawn into a trap?” I didn’t know what he was speaking of as he looked around, panic enveloping him as well.
“Oh no, don’t fear. If I were to have laid a trap, one like you would’ve been long gone by now,” I humoured myself. The man seemed to ponder my words and think of what I said, as if there was hidden meaning behind them, or perhaps to search for it. “Come now, sit,” I told him, standing back down myself, “if you were truly led into a trap, then it is too late to struggle right?”. My jokes obviously didn’t reach him quite well, as he was still being cautious, albeit something seemed to have earned me a bit of his trust.
And even though I myself was panicked at the thought that I had forgotten the hunt I was set upon, just like I was taught, the calm of mind had to be maintained. The stranger presenting himself to me alone, asking about my mother, was something that piqued my interest. So I had to see what that was about before returning to the hunt.
“I suppose you are right,” he said, tucking back his sword and patting his chest, as if to shake the fear. “Then let us formally introduce ourselves more properly,” the way he spoke was funny to me, it reminded me of the city folk I saw a long time prior. “My name is Seron, people call me Seron the Scribbler, and I gather information.”. The man leaned over, allowing me to see his hat that had a blue feather to the left side. I knew of these people, they were called journalists. He then came closer, allowing me see him better.
“Ah, yes, I see. You are one of those that sit at a desk and write stories right?” I was still trying to break the tension with some humour, and that one seemed to have done its effect as he seemed a bit offended.
“Maybe some do sure, well, most do if I think about it. But not me! I wander the lands, reach out to people and bring the truth to the masses,” the man seemed quite prideful to me, although it didn’t feel like he was lying, which intrigued me. “Now say, by what you wear, you must be a hunter right?” he pointed at my hat, “I don’t know how the ranks work here, but you seemed quite experienced.”.
“Work here? I believe it’s the same as anywhere else in Fenoa,” my answer brought a slight smile on his face, the kind that people have when they know something you don’t, which he then hid as quickly as he could. “Introductions aside, you are here because of a woman afflicted by some sickness you said.”. His face brightened, he could tell I had information on it.
“Yes! Yes, I would very much like to meet this woman,” for a moment he seemed to have forgotten that fear he had for me and took a step closer. “I was getting a bit lost through the forest, as you could probably tell, but I am heading to the house of one named Robin. Perhaps you can lead me there, and maybe even introduce me to him, I wouldn’t like to make the wrong impressions.”. The man made me forget about my worries for a moment, his cluelessness amused me.
“I don’t know where you come from, Seron, but in Fenoa it is quite well known that there can only be one family of hunters in a forest,” he showed confusion on his face for a moment, which then turned into realisation. “So, which people are you speaking of? That call you Seron the Scribbler? Since I never heard of one such as you around.”.
The man knew he couldn’t hide behind his well spoken language and manners any longer. So he switched back to his more natural demeanour, that of a Molavian. “You were right,” he said as he stood down a short distance from me, “once caught in a trap, no reason to struggle right?”. I was glad we could come to more even terms, “But this doesn’t feel like a trap. If I am to guess, you’re not one of them right?”.
I obviously raised an eyebrow to that, “The authorities. They try hiding this illness that afflicts people, more so than before. And I’m here to find the truth about it, perhaps even a cure to help others.”.
“The truth? Well now that’s something,” I told him, to which he looked at me puzzled, “I was just on my way to find as much.”. I pointed to him in the direction I came from, towards the Uneven Hill. “I found my mom lying unconscious over that river, in a portion where the Uneven Hill is at. And it’s there we believe whatever caused it to be.”.
His eyes were glittering with excitement, so he didn’t hesitate to ask me “And what do you believe it to be?”. His question carried weight and expectancy, it was as if my answer could affirm something he was thinking.
“I don’t honestly know,” I said looking at my missing sword, then clutching at my bow, “but whatever it is, it’s neither human nor animal. I know you common and city folk don’t believe in these things, but we call them beasts, magical beasts.”.
Contrary to what I thought, he was actually happy for what I gave him. Not in disbelief as others may have been, but excited and happy. “Yes! Perfect! A magical beast, and not any mind you,” his words first made me confused, “a goblin to be precise!” then it all snapped into place for me.
My head was flooded with new memories. I couldn’t help but pick Seron up as if he was a kid and look him in the eyes “A goblin!”. He couldn’t tell what was going on, but he seemed to share some of my excitement, with fear I may drop him. “Riza…Riza the goblin!”.