“So, Tyr,” Molin started in that way he often did. “Tell us again how you all managed to kill the Jhen.”

“Wouldn’t you rather hear it from Orion?”

“We all know the Captain exaggerates his stories,” Jaruk replied, and even Orion agreed with a hearty chuckle.

“To be honest, it was just a matter of working together. A bit of coordination and luck and Kean’s experience saw us through.”

“Boy, if Orion oversells it then you definitely undersell it by just as much,” Oliarta said. “Come on, we want a story.”

Tyr looked down at Adaline imploringly, but she was on their side.

“Please?” she asked.

“Alright, well, the only other hunt I went on was just for a Los that was terrorizing Moga.” He pulled Adaline in as he stared into the campfire. “If the posting I read was true at all, the Los healed at an incredibly rapid rate, although it didn’t seem like fighting him took much longer than I would have expected. Still, they had called it ‘The Immortal Los.’”

“This was the one you killed with that Tail Guy, yes?” Dervish Guard asked. “What do you think was going on with that one?”

“It was probably just inexperienced hunters,” Hammer Maiden said, and Tyr was inclined to agree. “They didn’t realize how little damage they were doing, and so it seemed as though the wyvern healed faster than it actually did.”

“But, what if it wasn’t that?” Dervish Guard continued, apparently on another of her theories.

“You mean, what if the Los really was immortal and it was just waiting for our Tyr to come and kill it?” Oliarta said. “That really would make for an interesting story.”

“My Tyr,” Adaline corrected, but gently.

“What I mean,” Dervish Guard said thoughtfully. “Is that there might’ve been something that did speed up the healing process. Maybe he found a stash of potions that he gulped down after fights, or perhaps someone was taking care of it, like I do with Feora.”

“Like some sort of pet?” Orion asked. “Who in the world would want a beast like that as a companion?”

“I would not object,” Hammer Maiden offered. “But only if it were trained in restraint, which it did not sound as though this Rathalos was.”

“I dunno, I think it’d be pretty cool,” said Molin. “You could go flying everywhere and hunting down other monsters would be a lot easier.”

“There’s no point in that kind of thinking,” Tyr said.

“They’re monsters, not endemics,” Adaline added. “Their place in the order of the world isn’t something that’s going to change, and I’d rather you all not dream of something that would still your blades for a moment when they might be needed in combat.”

“Well, I mean,” Dervish Guard started, but couldn’t finish. “I was just trying to think of why it might’ve healed so fast…”

“And that’s fine,” Tyr said. “But I’m not interested in ideas that get us nowhere.” He shifted so he could stand and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m still a bit exhausted from all the excitement. Please, continue without me.”

They did while Tyr headed out a small distance from the camp. He looked up at the face of the planet’s one moon, Luna, and contemplated all the things that had changed in just a week. He and Adaline were together, he could channel a weak level of chakra, and he had another two katanas beyond the one he’d brought. Adaline was quiet, content just slip into his presence, at his side and in his arm. But before he could finish his thoughts and say anything, a voice came to them both.

“You are a better hunter than I am.” Guard of Death held his giant axe aloft, examining Luna’s reflection in the blade.

“I didn’t know we were competing.”

“Are you aware of the sport of dueling?”

“I’ve been introduced to it.”

“My homeland is where the sport began. I was a Master of Six Arenas in the land, and killed many to earn that title. But I grew bored of besting men and decided to best monsters instead.” He let the axe fall to the ground and it splashed sand up around their feet. “But the Jhen… It was the first opponent whose mere description broke my conviction. I have faced men whose skills with a blade would put you in your grave, felled beasts that sliced my comrades in two, and I have done all this without knowing doubt.” Guard of Death didn’t look at Tyr or Adaline, didn’t change his tone, but there was still a shift that Tyr could feel in the air. “I would like to know what it is that drove you to hunt the Jhen.”

“My reasons won’t help you, Guard of Death,” said Tyr.

“I will be the navigator of my own destiny,” the Wyverian replied.

“Because no one else would.”

“It’s that simple?”

“No,” he said, rather plainly. “There are a lot of people who hunt when they want to, or when they need to for themselves, but none of them would go out against the Jhen when they were needed by others.” Tyr gently turned so that he was between Adaline and their unexpected guest. “I’m one of the few willing to go when no one else can find the courage. The odds don’t matter, the rules don’t matter; it’s just what needs to be done.”

“That is why the Guild does not trust you,” Guard of Death said. “You fight without permission, solely intent.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“I am saying it, Tyr.” For the first time, each turned their gaze to meet the other’s. “The Guild finds you unworthy of carrying your blade any longer, and they have asked me, Mathias, the Devil’s Right Hand, to execute you.”

“Adaline,” Tyr said. “Go back to the carriage.”

“Tyr,” she said softly.

“Go back, Adaline. It’s night time. You should be in the carriage.”

Tyr drew out his Mohran Whisker and lowered the tip to the ground while Adaline dashed back through the sands. His breathing slowed deliberately. Without so much as a word between them, the two stepped backwards and turned so that they were facing each other at a respectable distance. Luna shone brilliantly off both blades.

Mathias moved first, leaping high into the air so that he could bring his blade heavily into the sand. Tyr rolled, but found that Mathias had planned just for that, sweeping his axe out through the space where Tyr’s foot had been a moment before. The Wyverian pressed the attack, blow after blow narrowly sweeping by his human opponent. Having planned his attack carefully, Tyr lunged after one of Mathias’s wider blows and was stopped by a giant fist to his throat. Caught so suddenly, he did nothing to block the kick which pinned him to the ground.

Tyr coughed heavily as Mathias’s boot pressed against his chest. Breathing was nearly impossible, but as he lifted his axe up again Tyr knew that wouldn’t be a problem much longer. With all the speed and power he could muster, Tyr rolled his feet back and kicked upwards into the wyverian’s groin. It wasn’t much, considering the heavy plating between them, but it was enough to send Mathias back a step. Tyr rolled back onto his feet and barely sidestepped the next two strikes.

Neither let up for a second, although Tyr hadn’t even managed to fully swing his blade. The taller man was simply too brutal, too precise with each swing despite the size of his weapon. Channeling white chakra down his blade, Tyr lifted his sword in a slashing arc against the axe as it fell. The weapons met and pushed each other back, which gave Tyr a chance to ram his shoulder into Mathias. The attack only made the wyverian grunt as he brought his leg up in a sweeping kick against Tyr’s head. Flat on his back once again, Tyr swung himself around and swept Mathias at the back on the knees.

Hardly as helpless as Tyr would’ve liked, his opponent slashed his axe down, and Tyr barely managed to catch its hilt. Akura Vashimu crystals licked his throat, barely drawing blood before Tyr threw the arm away and rolled. Both men got back to their feet as Tyr felt the sting of sand in his cut. “Bastard,” he mumbled, before he felt the earth shake beneath his feet.

“Watch out!” Orion shouted.

A blast of electrical energy tore through the ground and into the pair sending both hunters flying, followed by a screech which stunned them halfway through their falls. Tyr hit the ground hard, and looked up just in time to see a terrifying silhouette against the face of the moon.

Wings trailing whip-like tendrils spread out from a serpentine body that ended in a sharply spiked tail. Despite the dark of night, Tyr could clearly make out the white of the beast’s mane and the jewel-like crest on its head. Whatever it was, it looked like it could give a Rathalos a run for its zenny in both size and strength.

A moment later, before Orion and the others could reach them, a woman wrapped in what appeared to be no more than midnight blue cloth leapt in front of the fearsome flying wyvern as it dove at Tyr. With a grace he’d seldom seen in midair the huntress grabbed ahold of a tendril and flipped herself onto the beast’s electrified back. She tugged hard, yanking it off course and onto the ground where it howled in protest, bucking and whirling dangerously. Mathias, having found himself much closer to the wyvern, was blown back by an unexpected flap and subsequently launched out of sight when a tail swipe connected with his chest.

Tyr was just getting up to assist when Orion’s hand grabbed his shoulder. “Hold on,” Orion said. “I want to see this.”

Tyr saw why he wouldn’t be needed. Just like he’d killed half a hundred Los before, it was obvious this woman had dealt with whatever wyvern this was just as often. “So, what is that thing?” Tyr asked as another shrill cry escaped the beast’s mouth.

“The Berukyurosu. They’re so powerful the Guild won’t let anyone below Rank Twenty even try to touch one. And that fine example of the female form up there is Night Axe,” Orion explained. “She’s a Legend, depending on who you ask. Might show up here one night, and then in Pokke tomorrow. No one’s quite sure how she does it.”

They both watched, joined shortly by most of the other guards. Jaruk and Dervish Guard had stayed behind and guard the Princess, but the majority figured that standing between the lightning wyvern and the carriage was good enough.

Night Axe wielded a switch axe; she was no Legend though. Skilled, yes, but anyone with a Hunter Rank above twenty would have to be if they fought alone like she did.

Her basic technique was a dangerous one. As the Beru dipped any body part low-enough, she would thrust her axe up and use the head to grab onto it. Then, with surprising power, she would yank and launch herself airborne by switching to sword mode. In the air, the Beru swirled around, its whip-like tendrils screaming through the air at Night Axe, but she twisted her body around, her blade an axe again before Tyr noticed she’d triggered anything. Her weapon switched between modes easily twice as fast as the standard. She caught the tendril going past her to fling herself back into her target.

The Beru screeched loudly as Night Axe’s blade tore across its chest, sending blood and scale to the sand below. It snapped backwards, but not before Night Axe caught it again around the back of the neck. Throwing its three-pronged tail up sent a blast of electricity into the night air, but the huntress had already spiraled around behind the wyvern, dragging her blade down its back as she fell. With a rage-filled scream the Beru slammed into the ground, bringing bolts of lightning to the ground with it. Night Axe threw herself back into the fray, ducking beneath a frenzied swipe of its wings to send herself rocketing upwards again.

Sky Axe might have been a more-appropriate name, given how little she was ever on the ground. She let loose an elemental discharge to propel herself back upwards as she fell, and the Beru was as confused as most hunters were to fight an enemy that kept herself behind or above them at all times. Night Axe twirled around a blast, but was hit squarely by the second and sent hard into the ground. Tyr moved before anyone could reconsider the idea for him.

“You idiot!” Orion shouted, but he followed all the same. “Hammer Maiden, you’re with us!” She wasn’t his first choice, given her refusal to get off the ground in any fight, but she was also the only one that fit the bill. With Orion’s attention focused on the Beru, he didn’t even notice the barrel bomb sailing through the air until the hiss reached his ears. The explosion, as small as it was, threw him backwards, missing Hammer Maiden by centimeters.

“Seems she doesn’t want our help,” Hammer Maiden said to him with that infuriatingly calm voice of hers.

“You mean she actually bombed me like some wild Felyne?”

“She had far more accuracy than that.”

“By the Fata. Can you believe the ego on that one, Ty… Where’s Tyr?” He didn’t need to ask it, he could see Tyr’s blade flashing beneath the Beru’s tails, but he didn’t want to believe it. He held up a hand before Hammer Maiden could respond, and watched Tyr nearly get himself brutalized by a blast of lightning dropped from the Beru. He was lucky that he was using his Jhen weapon, because any of his other blades wouldn’t have cut through even the softest parts of the Beru’s hide. He was luckier that Night Axe was there, because without her he’d had been torn to shreds after one of the Beru’s hooks caught his armor and threw him a dozen meters through the sand.

By the time he was back on his feet, Tyr could feel his heart pounding in his ears. The Beru’s chakra was enough to throw his body into a rush of adrenaline, and that was wearing him thin faster than the effort he’d had to put into dodging bolts of lightning. He charged back in anyways, slicing at the vulnerable legs once before rolling out of the way of an incoming attack. And then another. From above him, Night Axe fell like a stone through the Beru’s raging strikes and landed next to him.

“First time?” she asked just before using Tyr as a springboard, hooking herself onto the escaping wyvern for another devastating blow against its chest. Tyr ran to keep up, but with every attempt to escape Night Axe’s fury, the Beru drew further away from him, and closer to Adaline’s carriage. Dervish Guard and Jaruk were standing in the way, but there wasn’t much they were going to be able to do. “FLASH!” Tyr yelled as he chucked the bomb. Night Axe caught the Beru’s head and actually forced it into the flash, sending them both toppling to the ground.

Night Axe brought her blade up in slash after slash on the downed wyvern, but her Sword didn’t seem to be overheating. No phial buildup at all, in fact. Tyr didn’t have time to be impressed by weapon variations though, only to unleash enough strikes to get his glow. That thin white glow that sharpened his weapon’s edge and focused his energies. He stumbled and fell to his knees the moment it was up, unable to sustain the glow with the Beru’s chakra pushing at him from every side.

His vision swam, and then went white as his chakra was forced back into him. The pain was excruciating, but it didn’t last long. However, when his eyes opened he was in midair over the Beru, his sword out of his hands. Night Axe must have tossed him into the air with her axe’s upswing to save his life. He spun, rolling as he hit the ground before heading back to his katana, and the back into the fray. But this time he really was too late, because Night Axe was already delivering the final blow.

As the Berukyurosu slumped lifelessly into the sand, its electric eyes out forever, Night Axe turned back to him. They stood for a few moments before she knelt down and carved a single piece off the beast. “The rest is yours,” she said before launching a handful of smoke bombs directly at him and the other groups of guards. By the time they’d cleared, there was no trace of her.

“I tell you what,” Orion said through coughs. “I wouldn’t mind showing her how well my axe can switch, if you know what I mean.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t be interested.”

“Pah, she just needs to get to know me. And besides, you’ve already got the Princess. Leave some of the beautiful women for the rest of us.” Everyone just shook their heads as they went back to the caravan to get some sleep, everyone except for Mathias, who they didn’t see again.

Home was almost exactly as the group had left it. The barracks were still full of trained old faces and fresh new ones. The arena was still active twenty-seven hours a day, and nothing had crashed through the city walls recently. In fact, it wasn’t until Tyr broke off from the group to escort Adaline back to the castle that anything was different at all.

A dazzling woman with short cyan hair stood between two well-equipped hunters and a boy that must’ve been just a little over half of Adaline’s age, though he was wearing hunting gear as well. Apparently, they had been expecting the Princess. “Why, Adaline. Your father told me you’d taken an interest in a hunter, but I honestly expected more than just a city guard.”

“Why, Lior,” Adaline countered, but then she stopped herself, which apparently neither of them counted on. “This is Tyr, and his station is hardly what matters.”

“Oh my. You call him by his name and he’s managed to stem your tongue?” Lior gave Tyr an appreciative look. “I can only hope that your hunting skills are as incredible as your ability to change women.”

“He did help take down the Jhen Mohran,” Adaline said. While Adaline seemed to be interested in bragging on his behalf, Tyr was more interested in Lior’s three companions and how silent they were. They were certainly well-trained.

The oldest of the three was dressed in a dark and jagged armor, uneven in every respect. It wasn’t balanced to favor one side, like traditional gunner armors, it just seemed to be a random mess of black and bone. The middle of the three was in shining Uragaan gear, his armor the epitome of symmetry. And the youngest was in a mixed set of so many wyverns that Tyr couldn’t name them all.

“Really?” Lior asked, turning her full attention to Tyr now. “Well, that is quite the feat. I’d like to see your skills someday, Tyr.” There was an edge to her voice, the same edge Adaline’s had that first night. He didn’t like it.

“Adaline,” Tyr said. “I’ll see you in-“

“Nonsense. If I’m going to be stuck here for the next week then I’m going to get to know the first good influence in my daughter’s life.”

As it turned out, Lior was of the firm belief that hunting was the only pursuit in life worth anything. She’d trained her sons to be hunters, and had hoped that her daughters would follow along in her footsteps.

“Alas,” she said, finishing off a glass of wine. “They were both far more interested in staying at home with their father; no offense, Marcus.” The King shook his head and raised a hand to signal that it was okay. “At least both of them have taken an interest in someone with courage and honor. Again, no offense meant.” Despite how well the King was maintaining his composure, his knuckles were turning white, and his fork was quickly growing bent.

Adaline whispered an apology to Tyr, who took the opportunity to squeeze her hand. “What is it that brings you back to Fahrenn?” Tyr asked.

“We come once a year to celebrate our anniversary,” Lior answered. This surprised Tyr to no end.

“You’re… still together?”

There were plenty of laughs. “Unlike the common folk, royalty have certain obligations, so we feel no compunction to stay together through every day and night. We also tend to not marry for love. Not that we can’t marry for love, mind you, just that there are traditions to consider and better reasons.”

“What other reason is there to be married?”

Lior laughed again. “I do like you, Tyr. So focused on hunting that you don’t take time to get into politics. Oh, were you only a few years older.” This drew a tight squeeze on Tyr’s arm from Adaline. “But I suppose that’s something for another life. Tell me, Tyr, how was the Jhen Mohran?”

“It was bigger than a mountain and stronger than a pack of Orugaron,” Tyr said. “I suggest you find Orion, the Climbing Captain, if you want a more lively telling. I’m a hunter, after all, not a bard.”

Lior offered Tyr another look that suggested she was indeed Adaline’s mother. “Perhaps I will at that,” she said. “Well, do tell us something about yourself. What sort of monster do you prefer to hunt and why?”

“The Rathian,” he replied, and Adaline smiled at the touch of the pendant against her skin. “I find that the Ian is such a beautiful wyvern. Graceful, majestic, and yet undeniably as powerful as the Los. Of all the wyverns I’ve seen in the world, none can compare; none have even come close.”

“Have you heard of the mythical Golden Rathian?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“No, but I’ve fought the Silver Rathalos.”

“Really?” she asked, leaning towards him. “How was it? Did you find it as engaging as the Jhen?” Tyr had almost taken it for granted that people knew the story by now, so when he explained it to Lior her passive expression didn’t faze him at all. However, Lior wasn’t the only one listening.

“You really thought to take down a Silver Los by yourself?” asked Degin, the oldest of the trio that had turned out to be Adaline’s brothers. “Rage or not, you couldn’t be that foolish.”

Lior raised a hand for silence. “Now, now, Degin. Tyr hardly had the training necessary to recognize the situation for what it was. Besides, to him it was just another Rathalos, something which he’d killed dozens of before.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he really had been that foolish. Tyr couldn’t remember what that level of emotion could do to him, or how it could cloud his thinking so much. He knew he was so blinded by Natalie’s death that he hadn’t assessed the situation properly. Knew it, and yet couldn’t fathom something with enough control over him to make him do so. A teardrop hit his palm, making him jerk slightly.

“Is everything alright, Blank Blade?” the King asked, having noticed before anyone else.

“I,” he started, and shook his head. “I just realized the time, my lord. I’m afraid I need to be excused. Commander Clay Claw will be needing my report soon.”

“That Commander can certainly wait until you’re finished here,” the King said. “Do not feel as though you need to rush off.”

Adaline’s stare begged him not to go, but Tyr knew that she could get away just as easily if she wanted to, and he couldn’t stay there any longer. He needed something else, something other than Adaline’s family and those stories of his past. What that was, he couldn’t guess, but he knew he wouldn’t find it there. Standing, he bowed to those assembled at the enormous dinner table. “With all due respect, Marcus. I’m afraid I’ve become accustomed to breathing the outside air at this hour.”

A few minutes later, Tyr burst through the gates of the castle and into the twilit streets. His Mohran Whisker hummed in his ear, sending him down to the arena where he paid a thousand zenny just to sit in the stands and watch a lancer take down a Cephadrome. He was decent, although it was obvious that he was new to lancing. The hunter blocked far too often, hiding behind his shield even when he had clear chances to strike or evade, or even channel into a counter. Even with Tyr’s limited knowledge of the weapon style, he knew that the fight could’ve easily been minutes faster with just a hint more bravery and effort. Tyr didn’t feel sad, not really, but he was crying all the same.

Lior approached him in the stands near the end of the fight and set herself down. “Adaline was right,” she said in introduction. “You’re so entranced with this place that you don’t seem to notice someone staring at you the whole time.” As Lior spoke, she brushed a bit of accumulated sand from her Agnaktor tasset. “You ran off so suddenly at dinner that I didn’t get to finish asking you my questions.”

Another fight started, this time between an experienced heavy bowgunner and a Daimyo Hermitaur. Tyr stood up, wiping his cheeks. “Lior, I’m afraid I don’t know how else to say this, so forgive me. I don’t care about your questions. I’m in no mood for company right now, so please just leave me be.”

“Do you really think it’s going to be that easy?” she asked as the gunner launched a volley of piercing shots through the Monoblos skull the Daimyo used for a shell.

The crab retaliated with a blind charge, using the horn of the fallen to lead the way. Tyr did his best to walk away. Both fell when something caught their legs. Lior swooped over Tyr as he lay in the dip between rows of seats, pinning his legs and arms expertly. “I’m not to be ignored.” Her smile was as wide as the one on the Daimyo’s shell.

“I’m not your plaything,” Tyr spat back. Foam fell from the carapaceon’s mouth as it raged, pushing itself back out of the pitfall trap. “Now get off of me.”

“You will be whatever I say you are,” Lior purred, letting him see past her to where Adaline was being held by her eldest brother, a knife at her throat. “So be good.” A series of rapid explosions signaled the release of a powerful cluster shot which toppled the beast again.

“You wouldn’t dare hurt her…” he growled uselessly, swinging his claws in a pitiful attempt at catching his enemy.

“Not here, no. People would surely see if I did it here. But you can be sure that I will hurt my sorry excuse for a daughter later, safe from prying eyes in the castle, if you aren’t as good as I want you to be.” She stood up again just as a crag shot lodged itself in the beast’s claw. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Tyr.” The explosion sent carapaceon shell fragments across the arena floor.

The Mohran Whisker hummed to him again in its sheath, and Tyr found himself racing across the arena towards the captured princess. Of course, even as he did so he was clipped in the side by a sharp spike which unfolded and blew him to the topmost rows. The few spectators left all looked his way, then across the way for where the shot had come from, but there didn’t seem to be anyone with a gun. It must have been some sort of accident, they all surmised. After all, the gunner was still firing crags, wasn’t he? Picking himself up, Tyr watched as they dragged Adaline off through one of the exits.

If he’d been at his peak, he might’ve been able to recover in the roll and rush after them, but he weighed his odds against a gunner that could hit a moving target as small as he was from a distance where that gunner couldn’t be seen. They weren’t good. But, he’d never given up because of odds before. On his feet in a moment, Tyr raced again for the exit they took Adaline out of. There was no bullet this time, but when he reached the hallway there was Degin, his black and bone armor looking particularly menacing.

“Out of my way,” Tyr ordered.

“No,” Degin answered. When Tyr lunged he found himself on his back before he knew what was happening, and a metal-encased fist slammed his skull down against the stone floor with a single motion. His head swimming, Tyr barely managed to put his arms up as blow after blow rained down on him.

“Why are you doing this? She’s your sister!”

“She is a diplomat,” Degin said as he pummeled away. “I am a hunter. We are not brother and sister. We are different species.”

“That’s a load of dung.” With a quick motion he caught Degin’s hand and yanked him down, forcing the man to roll back onto his feet while Tyr regained his own footing. This time, Tyr recognized the stance his opponent was in. “You’re… using Chakration to actually fight?”

“Everything is a weapon, even one’s own body.”

Although he didn’t have a reply to give, an arm reached around his neck and held tight, cutting off any chance of one. Tyr struggled, grabbed, gasped, and flung himself back against the wall, but his attacker held on tight, and soon Degin was pounding against his stomach, knocking what air he had out of his body faster than he could hope to regain it. The world dimmed, went dark, and then silence consumed him.

He awoke on the cold stone floor, his head pounding and his body feeling stiff. Armor had never been anyone’s choice for sleepwear, even if it wasn’t for very long. Though he didn’t know how long it had been, he knew it had been long enough that he stood no chance of catching up. With a deep sigh, Tyr made his way back to the barracks. Oliarta, Orion, Molin, and Jaruk were waiting up for him. So was Commander Clay Claw. There were tears in Oliarta’s eyes. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“The Guild,” Oliarta said, but she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“They’ve recommended your expulsion from the Guard,” Orion said for her.

“And the Guard answers to them now instead of the royal family?” Tyr asked defiantly.

The old Melynx shook her head. “The queen herself gave me the order to do it; the Guild just recommended it. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose they’ll want my armor and weapons again then?” His chakra was palpably white, surging around his hands as it searched for a release.

“No,” Clay Claw said firmly. “I made certain they knew this time that all of your equipment was yours. I have to let you go, but you haven’t been expelled from this city.”

“They know I have nowhere to go but Loc Lac anyways, and it’ll take a long time to get there myself. So, I guess this is goodbye,” Tyr said.

“Not exactly,” Orion replied, drawing questioning looks. “Commander, I think I’ve done just about all I can in the Guard.” Clay Claw, despite the situation, couldn’t help but chuckle. “I quit.”

“Resignation accepted.”

His anger flickered out as his former commanding officer stepped up alongside him and clapped him on the shoulder. “What do you say then, Tyr? We’ll head back to my house and have ourselves enough ale to get a Gravios drunk. Let everyone know where we are, eh Jaruk?”

Jaruk gave a nod and patted Oliarta on the shoulder. “Yeah, will do.” And as the pair of former guards and Molin departed he called out. “Hey, Tyr. I’ll make certain Adaline knows where you are!”

“What part of everyone didn’t you get?” Orion shouted back with a laugh as they stepped through the gates and out into the city proper.

Jaruk took Oliarta back to the barracks first. “They’re both going to be okay, you know?”

“I know,” she sniffed. “It’s just not fair. It’s not fair at all. Why did they have to recommend his release?”

“He fought a Beru, Oliarta.”

“But he didn’t die or anything! And he’s been a good guard. And he… he…”

“I know.” Jaruk shrugged. “But it’s not like we can change what happened, or the rules of the Guild. If he’d been killed, or if he’d gotten someone else killed in that fight… They have rules for a reason. And I think we all know that Tyr’s been skirting them since day one.”

“You didn’t complain when he saved your skin.”

“And I’m not going to, but that doesn’t make it legal. You can’t keep breaking the rules and expect not to get caught.”

“I don’t understand how you and Molin can be such total opposites.”

“You don’t have to, but we’re not as opposite as you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, climbing up into her bunk.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come to the party?”

“I don’t want to bring everyone down.”

“Okay, but you’ll be missed.” Jaruk wasn’t about to argue with her. Oliarta wasn’t the sort that you argued with unless you outranked her. Even then, he didn’t think he knew how to argue that it was a better idea for her to be there than not. It was going to be a bittersweet event, and the sweet part wasn’t even a guarantee.

At the castle gates he saluted the two guards on duty. He didn’t recognize them, which was unusual. “Evening,” he started. “I have a message for Doting Princess.”

“She ain’t taking visitors,” the first guard spat. “So shove off.”

“I’m not a visitor,” Jaruk replied with his best smile. “I’m just here to deliver a message, so if you would jus-“

“Didn’t you hear her?” the second guard said, leveling a lance point at Jaruk’s head. A Knight’s weapons weren’t forged from Guild ores, and Jaruk had never been within striking distance of a drawn one before. The way it broke through his chakra instead of blending with it made him instinctively pull away. “She said no visitors. Messengers included.”

“Right. Would you be able to deliver the message for me then?”

“Do we look like messengers to you?”

“No,” he said as he stepped back again. “Any idea when I can come back to deliver this? It’s rather urgent.”

“Yeah. You can come back soon as the Queen leaves.” The first guard snorted. “She don’t care for folks disturbing her family.”

“Of course.” Jaruk sighed and looked off towards the Princess’ room, but there was no sign of Adaline. Even if he’d been in the room though, he wouldn’t have seen her. Adaline was locked away in what had once been the dungeons of the castle, but which was now used mostly as storage. Her family had accumulated gifts from thousands of diplomats, grateful citizens, and otherwise, and since they couldn’t just get rid of it all, it was kept in storage.

There were rugs, and ornate paintings, rare ores, skeletons of various monsters, tomes, clothing, and more than one device that no one knew the purpose of anymore. All of it was shelved, put in crates, or set out on display for all of the people that might have ever cared to come down and look. No one did. Even the guests who had insisted on giving them the gifts never wanted to see them again once they were handed over. But Adaline had always loved it.

She’s been locked in the Guest Hall several times as punishment when she was younger. Lior had always thought that it was a suitable punishment for a diplomat daughter. She’d been right at the time. Adaline could remember crying to herself behind the Shield of Sunlight, hoping it would protect her from the bones of the beasts all around her. Boredom had been what brought her back out from behind the shield, and boredom was what made her pick up the Monster Ecology book from Minegarde.

Her fingers ran over the spine, now so broken from her overuse that she feared what opening it again might do to it. “This time I’ll be gone for a long time, old friend.” She laughed at herself. “Talking to books now. Tyr, what have you done to me?” Her voice shook in her anger. “I swear if she’s touched hair on your head…” She shoved her way from the shelf and walked with purpose past the Zinogre, the Espinas, and even the Glavenus until she found the only thing in the Hall that hadn’t been put there by strangers.

With a careful hand she pulled the dark bandages from the cocoon, wrapping them around her hands, her arms, and then her feet. She wrapped up each leg, along her torso, and even around her neck, sealing them into place with a simple tuck and a surge of chakra. The last bandage came off the blade of her axe, and that she spun around her head, wrapping up every inch of her hair and sealing it so tightly that it was as though it weren’t even there. Her item belt in place, Night Axe picked up her blade last of all, giving it a single swing to make certain of its weight before she slung it into place.

“Wouldn’t go up there without a plan.”

“I have a plan.”

“Not a very good one.”

“I didn’t know you could read minds, Commander.”

“I didn’t know you didn’t have one, Night Axe.”

The huntress turned around, spotting Clay Claw on an upper shelf among some masks. How long had she been there? “What exactly do you recommend I do then?”

“That depends entirely on your goals.” The Commander dropped from the upper shelves, catching herself on all fours, but not stumbling in the least. “I’m guessing your first priority is escaping your… Royal Problem?”

“My first priority is Tyr.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed that. So you’ll both need an escape route then.”

“I’ve got that covered. Just need to get a message to Wen.”

“Consider it done. What about your brothers?”

“They’re scum. If they get in my way, I’ll take them down the same as I will Lior.”

“They’ve got a few dozen Knights on their side.”

“I don’t suppose I could borrow some of yours?”

Clay Claw shook her head. “I can’t appear disloyal, and nor can my guards.”

“I’m royalty too, you know.”

“And if your word carried as much weight as the Queen’s, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Night Axe sighed. “I can fight them. I’ve trained for this. Once I’m outside, they won’t be able to catch me.”

“Don’t be a meowr-“ She stopped herself, coughed to clear her throat. “Don’t be a moron. You’re not that good. No one is, especially not while you’re defending someone.”

“Tyr can handle himself.”

“Against monsters. Not against people.”

“People are monsters. They’re just a different kind.”

“That we all are, but it’s still suicide to fight them. Think of something better.”

“Why don’t you tell me your ideas instead, hmm?” She let out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. Old habits. Will you please tell me what I should do, Commander?”

“You should forget about this whole thing and wait her out.” Adaline was just about to object when Clay Claw raised a silencing paw. “But, since you won’t, you should use who and what you are to your advantage. You aren’t just a warrior of some renown. You are the last remaining Princess of Fahrenn.”

“And, as you said, my word doesn’t carry the same weight as Lior’s does.”

“True, but I’ve always fund it funny how name-dropping works. A phrase like ‘The Queen wanted me to’ can get you almost anywhere. Even down to this musty old place where her daughter is locked away.”

“You are a genius.”

“About time someone recognized that in me. I’ll have to update my Guild Card.”

She was just about to leave when a thought struck her. “Why are you helping me?”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“Call me paranoid, but you’ve never been anything but loyal… to everyone. The Guild, your guards, my family. You never seem to be on the wrong side of anyone, so why help me go against Lior?”

“You said it yourself, Princess. It’s you going against her, not me.”

“I could tell her it was you.”

“Maybe I’m helping the wrong side after all.”

“Commander, please. I appreciate all of the advice; I just want to know why you’re helping me. I want to know-“

“If you can trust me. Yes.” Clay Claw looked to the masks on the shelf she’d been perched on. “Do you know the story of those masks, Princess?”

“They were a gift from a wyverian who had supposedly collected them from a dozen different Laka tribes.”

“That’s right. But did you hear how she got them?”

“No.”

“She killed them. One group after another, she killed and killed until she could kill one without damaging the mask, and then she did the same with twelve other tribes. So many lives were wasted so that she could collect a bunch of masks that she just gave away anyways.” Of all the times Adaline had ever heard the Commander speak, she had never heard her sound so sad. She’d heard her threaten guards with things far worse than death, and yet the tone was unmistakable. “You were young, but do you remember how your parents reacted to the gift?”

“No,” she said, but she could already feel the heat under her skin at whatever Lior had done.

“Your father didn’t want them, but he couldn’t refuse a gift from the Chief of Erutu. And your mother smiled.” The Commander closed her eyes. “I will never forget her smile for as long as I live. It is the one thing I want wiped from the face of this planet. And so, Princess, even if she can’t ever know it was me, that’s why I’m helping you.”

It was easy-enough to get out. Night Axe had done it a hundred times before, but the Knights at the top of the stairs weren’t usually there. A pair of Gajalaka paralysis knives later and the Knights were tied up and gagged back near the shield Adaline had once hid behind. She would make certain someone found them, but that was all something for later.

“The last guard change was an hour ago,” Clay Claw had said. “That should give you plenty of time.”

Night Axe slipped through the halls, dodging the Knights easily. It was incredible how many people dismissed a fast-moving shadow as nothing more than a trick of the night. She was almost out of the castle when she heard Curro behind a door. “It’s hardly a fair fight if they’re still drunk.”

“You still hold onto that stupid idea that fights should be fair?” Degin answered. “Fights are never fair.”

“So Mother keeps saying. But don’t you ever get tired of all of it? Don’t you ever just want to fight something and defeat it on your own strength?”

“Our strength is our ability to tip the odds in our favor.”

“Tip,” Curro spat. “But we aren’t tipping anything by letting that Blank Blade and his friend get drunk before they come to fight us. We’ve turned the whole table on its side.”

“Tip or turn or flip, it doesn’t matter. Winning is what matters. You can fight fairly on your own hunts.”

Curro scoffed, but didn’t object any further. “Well, we might as well get ready. They’ll be here soon.”

Night Axe barely had time to lift herself into the arches before the door opened. Degin, Curro, and Plaka all came out, walking towards the Royal Suites. She took a deep breath, and rethought her plans. With Tyr coming, that meant that sneaking and lying wouldn’t be enough. She crept into a storage room that she used for spare supplies, grabbed smoke bombs, an extra set of Gajalaka knives, and a pair of cleansers.

The hallways leading to the Royal Suites were, as she expected, lined with Knights. Not more than a dozen in any single hallway, but more than enough to be trouble. She waited for Tyr, quietly scanning the escape path she planned to take. Nine Knights, plus at least one patrolling. Most of them had slower weapons like lances, but there was one with a set of dual blades, and another who was polishing an arrowtip for her bow. Her only advantage would be surprise, and, if Clay Claw’s advice was right, a little bit of blind loyalty.

Then she heard Tyr’s voice down a different hallway, saw him enter into Lior’s room, and felt her heart skip. Whatever other plans Lior had, if he was in her room then that meant she wanted him for her own. She wasn’t going to lose him.

“Someone help! The Princess! She’s escaped!” she called down the hall in a higher pitch than usual. She didn’t wait to see if it worked. She ducked down another passageway, teasing herself around the halls she knew better than anyone, and came up on the other side.

“The King is under attack!” she shouted in a deeper tone. “All Knights to his chambers!”

And then again, as far as she could manage with so many moving feet. “FIRE! IN THE KITCHEN!” She didn’t bother disguising her voice the third time. The panic and confusion would work their magic to disguise her voice for her. In the end, there were only three Knights left. A pair of sleeping knives hit the two lancers in their thighs, dropping them twice as fast as any gas could. And by the time to Knight with her twin blades had drawn them, Night Axe had dropped on top of her, her axe hooked beneath the woman’s neck.

“I don’t have time to play around,” Night Axe said.

“Nor do I,” the Knight countered, bucking the Hunter off of her with a sudden twist.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about that.” She smirked. “You’re using a Hunter’s Axe. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“That’s very observant of you.” Night Axe smiled. “But it’s also very wrong.”

Lior had taught Adaline exactly two things before she’d left. The first was that she had to fight for every inch of what she wanted in the world. When the Knight came at her, the Princess twisted, hooked her opponent between the legs and launched her into the air. She couldn’t hurt her with her weapons, but a well-placed blast before she could land sent her through the open window and down an entire floor. The second was that ending a fight quickly was the fastest way to make certain you got what you wanted.

She rushed to the door, cracking off the hinges with powerful swipes, until the doors were only standing on their weight alone. Then she turned, braced herself, and charged her phial burst. She’d had her axe custom built for quick bursts, without sacrificing power for the final burst. Against monsters it proved useful for maintaining aerial superiority, and against the doors it made certain they didn’t just fall over while she was charging.

The doors erupted from their place, slamming into Degin and Plaka with enough force to knock them off their feet. Night Axe let loose a second burst behind herself to launch herself into Curro, who took her shoulder bash with a bit more sturdiness than she’d hoped. But he didn’t have the time to counter. She rammed a paralysis knife into the gap under his arm and the paralyzing toxins sent him to the floor. Her last knife she threw at Lior, who caught it deftly at the last second before it could pierce her shoulder.

“Well, well, well,” Lior said. “The famous Night Axe, in my castle, and no one told me.” Her voice was edged with a tone Adaline knew too well; someone was going to pay. “We were just about to have some fun. Won’t you join us?” With the last word she tossed the blade back into the downed Orion.

“Get him out of here!” Night Axe shouted to Tyr, who was barely on his feet to begin with.

Grabbing the nearly limp Orion and his blades, Tyr left without looking back. He didn’t know where to go. The city didn’t seem safe, and neither did the castle, but before he could make up his mind one way or another, Night Axe was running past him, chucking a flash bomb and a smoke bomb behind her as she went. Tyr followed her as fast as he could, but the drugs in his system still hadn’t worn off. She knocked away a Knight that had appeared out of nowhere, but it only delayed them for so long. His head swam, and Orion may as well have been made of twitching cannonballs. Even pushing his strength and stamina as far as he dared, Tyr barely managed to keep up with her. She was everywhere at once, sometimes in three places at once. Sometimes nowhere at all. Around a corner he didn’t remember taking, he lost her, but found himself on the floor of a dark hallway a moment later when her axe caught him and dragged him through a hidden door.

As the wall slid closed, several smaller slots opened automatically along the wall, spilling novacrystal light through the long hallway. Night Axe, panting almost as heavily as Tyr was, slumped against the wall for a second, and then slammed a cleansing booster into the ground on her way down.

The mist that spilled out of the booster seeped into his chakra, and when he breathed it in it hit his body like a bolt of lightning. His head cleared, and his body was in his control again. “That was some rescue,” Tyr said as he checked on Orion, who was recovering twice as fast as he was.

“Tell me… about it,” Orion coughed as he swallowed down one of his mega potions. “You’d must’ve take down a dozen guards just to get the halls that empty.”

“It’s not as hard as it sounds,” Night Axe’s familiar voice said to them as the huntress unwrapped the bandages around her head, the navy blue giving way to a brighter and fuller head of sapphire blue hair. “At least not when you give them all the option to be in another part of the castle for a few minutes.”

“Adaline?!” Orion shouted, his voice echoing into the dim light.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said when his mouth closed. “I’m Night Axe. But be quiet.”

“I don’t understand,” Orion said, still a bit loudly. “I know you weren’t anywhere near Pokke when those Tigrexes were plaguing the mountain.”

“That’s why I’m not the only Night Axe.” She bit her lip and looked at Tyr. “Thank you for keeping it a secret. Orion, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone? Me? You must think I’m… well, me.”

Tyr shook his head as he crawled forward to kiss Adaline. “You’ve saved me twice now. I can’t imagine what I’m going to owe you for this.”

“I can think of a few things,” she said with a smile.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Orion whispered loudly as he hit Tyr in the leg. “I’m gonna kick your sorry ass after you buy me dinner. And you let me go on about Night Axe the other night too!” He hit Tyr again.

“Yeah. Well, I think this makes us even, right?”

Orion chuckled, and hit Tyr again. It didn’t hurt. Barely even registered, but Tyr pulled his leg away anyways. “You still owe me something to eat. And a drink that isn’t drugged.”

“Where does this lead, Adaline?” Tyr asked, looking down the seemingly endless hallway.

“It’s part of a tunnel system my father had put in so that I could go hunting without the world noticing.”

“Does Lior know about any of this?” Orion asked.

“Of course not,” Adaline said as the three of them set off. “If she did, she’d be here by now. I’ve also prepared for a carriage that can take us away, and left a note for my father to tell him I’m going away for a short while. Officially it’s to cleanse me before the suitors come, and while I’d love to be here myself to tell them they’re too late…” She paused to press herself against Tyr, and the handles of their weapons crossed. “I’m going to be too busy enjoying myself to remember they’re coming.”

As she promised, there was an underground river that stretched through caverns that it must’ve taken years to carve out, even to their narrow width. A boat, barely big enough for the three of them and their equipment, took them through the dark, winding passages slowly. They spoke quietly, for even whispers rang as loud as a normal voice. It was eventually decided that Kokoto would be an excellent escape, because even though it was famous as the home of the first Legend, it was still small and out of the way. Not about to let them have all the fun, as he described it, Orion decided he would accompany the pair just as the boat came to a stop below a shaft of moonlight.

“After all,” he said as he began climbing the steps carved into the stone. “I’ve been guarding the royal family too long to just quit cold Popo.”

At the surface was a simple hooded cart, led by a feisty old wyverian who introduced himself as Wen. He’d been a friend of the family since before they ruled Fahrenn, and certainly hadn’t stopped just because of one rotten apple that married into the bunch. He hitched up his one Aptonoth, let the hunters rest atop the supplies in the back, and together they all took off to Kokoto, leaving their red-rimmed home behind.