Here rests a king. Go away.
Epitaph of King Xuddar.
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Derren had come to Blue Forest at the announcement of the king of Maasz. His domain was limited to the northernmost part of the forest and its outskirts. As far as he understood, the kingdom consisted of seven villages and a capital of about three thousand inhabitants.
Three thousand silver shields, the advertisement read. Undoubtedly, a most handsome reward. Perhaps too much, so the hunter harbored a certain skepticism about the payment capacity of a kingdom as puny as Maasz. That was why he had decided to see the silver with his own eyes before accepting the job.
He watched the landscape through one of the large windows, waiting to be invited into the living room. At the foot of the hillside stretched a vast greenish blanket. How many beasts would he have hunted in that forest? He tried to find the exact number but lost count. More than fifty, that's for sure.
In the distance, the blue line of the central sea of the Thousand Kingdoms could be distinguished. There, too, they hunted beasts. Or rather, they fished for them. But he left that to others. The mainland was his business.
“Trip Derren?” asked a man with a clipboard.
Trip. This was how he had made it out of the hunter's initiation alive, at the age of twelve. With a trip he sentenced his only remaining companion to death. Thanks to this, he hunted a two–headed hound and was able to return to the village as a hunter. The initiation rituals always ended this way. No one ever reproached him, but everyone thought it was a funny and convenient nickname.
“It’s me.”
“Queen Pirla is waiting for you," the man motioned with his arm, indicating that he could enter.
The queen. This took him by surprise, although in the end it was not surprising. In the area of Blue Forest the new kings swarmed, since their life expectancy dropped drastically from the moment they ascended the throne. What had become of King Poig? Would the announcement still stand? He entered with brimming curiosity.
The living room was spacious and the evening light poured in through multiple windows. All glass, a good sign. The carpets were also a sign of wealth, especially since they were from respectable beasts. Several wild wolf pelts covered the pieces of wall closest to the entrance. That was the least of it. Any idiot could kill a wolf.
As the walls got closer to the throne, the bigger the skins got. Bears. Two–headed cerberus. Three–headed. Ikrans. And, on the floor, the long carpet he stepped on was undoubtedly that of a basilisk. A big one. Every step made his hair stand on end: he hated snakes.
He distinguished several green marble statuettes as well as ivory weapons whose sole purpose was decoration. There were no elephants or mammoths in the Thousand Kingdoms, most likely the coveted material was imported, for Derren didn't even want to think about the other option. The mere thought of weighing it sent a shiver down his spine.
In any case, the room was sufficiently ostentatious to make the advertised reward seem plausible. That reassured him.
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“I suppose you have come because of my father's announcement,” was the voice of the queen.
His voice echoed in the closed room. It was sharp but firm. Enough for those barbarians to respect her. She was seated on a simple throne with two swords crossed on the back and no inlay. Beside her were two burly men with sullen looks and armed with axes.
“That's right, Your Majesty. I wanted to make sure...” –things had changed with the sudden replacement of the new president– “that the announcement still stands.”
“I confirm it, Hunter. Three thousand silver shields,” the queen motioned to one of the women guarding the chest in the corner. She opened the chest and lifted the heavy wooden lid with leather straps, not without effort, revealing hundreds of silver coins.
“It's a rather generous reward... and a handsome one.”
Derren liked to live. And walking around the Thousand Kingdoms with a chest full of silver coins was like painting a bull's–eye on his forehead. The queen shrugged.
“You only have to cross the central sea to exchange it for gold. Or spend it here. In Maasz we have very good girls and we make the best rum in the Thousand Kingdoms. Or, if you prefer, I can cut the reward in half.”
It was a lot of silver, and as far as he knew, no sovereign gave away silver. The reward was always commensurate with the difficulty of the mission. No one paid three thousand silver shields for a cerberus, even a three–headed one.
“Such a bounty is not within the reach of every hunter, Your Excellency.... What is the piece you are looking for in your rich collection of carpets?”
The queen stood up with a smile on her lips. She was tall and slender. Her golden hair shone almost as bright as her crown, simple but elegant. The gown that enveloped her was studded with sequins that sparkled in the sun's rays. Ikran scales, Derren deduced. The queen's forest–green eyes bore into his.
“As you may already know, the Fur Tournament is coming up. I still remember the last time when my father participated to present a damned unicorn. We were the laughing stock of the Thousand Kingdoms,” the queen clenched her fists. “Now, I have the opportunity to make it right. My predecessor, King Poig, died two moons ago choking on a chicken bone, the idiot,” she grimaced, or sneered, or some kind of disgust. “Anyway, I've heard rumors about a monster that has taken up residence in the vicinity of Drengs, in Green Fangs. I think it would be a good candidate for the tournament.”
Derren swallowed. He hated that place. That was where his initiation took place. There he watched as his nine companions lost their lives one after another. "Three thousand silver shields," he repeated to himself. He cleared his throat.
“A monster?”
“The dragonfly. That's what they call it because of the shadow it casts. The last shadow its victims manage to see. Versions vary, but my men have learned that the thing is about four meters long. Solid gray wings that move at such speed as to produce a thunderous buzzing sound. Four strong, swift legs, wrapped in thick dark fur. And four eyes like deep black wells.”
“Something sharp? Teeth? Claws?”
“Oh, of course, or have you ever seen a toothless monster?” –the queen laughed lightly. “Teeth, claws... that and more. It crushes its victims with the claws on top of its mouth. Some versions include two large tusks, like those of walruses, but I think that's bullshit.”
“It's ok. The tournament is in three moons. Green Fangs is far away, at least at...”
“Don't worry, Hunter. We have organized a departure tomorrow night. At the moment, there are already three who have joined. There's room for two more. Three, if you hurry. The boat will take you to the central sea via the river, and then to Niord. There it will wait docked at the wharf until one of you returns with the piece.”
Derren did the math. He knew the region well, having spent his peaceful childhood there until he became a hunter and had to fend for himself. Niord was the southernmost point in the region, and he would have to walk two or three days north to reach Drengs. That's not counting four meters of monster to tow, evidently. "Three thousand silver shields," he repeated to himself.
“All right. Have the chest, a cart and a good donkey ready for when I get back.”
The queen smiled, pleased with the response.