A man who seemed to have just reached his thirties was sitting by the edge of a stream. Despite the apparent youth of his face, there was something in his gaze that betrayed an old soul, marked by years of experiences and adversities. His eyes, a deep dark, conveyed a wisdom and sadness that only someone who had lived long and suffered much could possess. His calm demeanor and erect, firm posture were not merely a matter of training, but also of a character forged in adversity.
He had a well-groomed beard, carefully trimmed to maintain a clean and orderly appearance. His hair was short, almost shaved, revealing a scalp that showed signs of a few scars. Well-proportioned sideburns framed a strong face with defined features, which could easily intimidate those who did not know him. Despite the thick clothes and fur cape he wore due to the northern cold, it was evident that he possessed an impressive physique. The muscles of his arms and chest, visible even under the layers of fabric, indicated considerable brute strength.
Next to him were a few horses, all young and robust, with shiny coats reflecting the care and good nutrition they received. Their alert eyes and constantly moving ears showed they were well-trained animals, ready to respond to their riders' slightest command.
A few steps away, another ten men accompanied the seated man. By their faces, they appeared very young, perhaps just into their twenties. They were completely wrapped in heavy cloaks, trying to protect themselves from the cold. Judging by their expressions and posture, they showed clear signs of discomfort and fatigue, indicating that the journey was particularly difficult for them, perhaps due to inexperience or the severity of the weather conditions. Some were rubbing their hands to warm them, while others stomped on the ground, trying to keep the blood circulating in their feet. The cold wind blowing from the north seemed to penetrate their clothes, and their faces were flushed with the intense cold. Their low conversations revealed a mixture of nervousness and excitement, typical of young soldiers still getting used to the rigors of military life.
The seated man watched the stream in front of him, which flowed vigorously over smooth, rounded stones. The crystalline water ran with a constant force, creating gentle whirlpools and small ripples on the surface. To an unobservant onlooker, the current might seem dangerous, but to those accustomed to the place, it was merely a reminder of the dynamic and untamed life of the north. The icy water reflected the cloudy sky, giving the stream a silvery appearance.
In the midst of this current, he spotted a bluish fish swimming gracefully. This fish was large, about half a meter long, with scales that shone in the dim sunlight, reflecting a deep blue mixed with touches of green. Its wide and powerful tail moved elegantly, cutting through the water effortlessly. The fins were long and thin, almost translucent, giving the fish an ethereal and majestic appearance. Its eyes, large and dark, seemed alert and watchful, always moving, observing the surrounding environment.
This fish was a Pirarovy, a species that lived in Lake Ykaray, known and appreciated throughout the kingdom. Shortly after, other fish of the same species, but smaller, appeared, following the larger one with almost perfect synchronicity. The Pirarovy liked to swim together when migrating, forming cohesive schools that moved as a single entity. They glided through the stream, staying close to each other, as if dancing an ancient and well-rehearsed choreography.
The Pirarovy were highly prized throughout the kingdom, not only for their tender and tasty meat but also for their beauty and grace. Watching them swim together was a hypnotizing spectacle, a reminder of the abundance and natural beauty that the north could offer, even on its coldest and most difficult days.
It was the seventh month of the year when the summer heat began to slowly penetrate the perennial cold of the north. At this time, the accumulated snow in the mountains began to melt, feeding the rivers and streams with fresh water and stronger currents. It was during this period that the Pirarovy began their annual migration out of Lake Ykaray. This lake was a sanctuary of calm and deep waters, ideal for the survival of the Pirarovy during the colder months.
Following the current, the Pirarovy began their journey along the Akua River. The river snaked through valleys and mountains, crossing dense forests and arid plains. Along the way, various streams and tributaries fed the river, creating a complex network of aquatic paths that the Pirarovy used for their migration. They swam through half the northern kingdom, passing through villages and cities eagerly awaiting their arrival, as fishing for Pirarovy was a vital source of food and income for many.
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The Pirarovy's journey did not end at the kingdom's borders. They continued swimming, crossing beyond known lands, venturing into the wild regions of the barbarian territories. The goal of their long journey was to find cooler waters where they could thrive during the hot summer months.
The Pirarovy would only return to Lake Ykaray at the beginning of the next year, at the end of the ninth month, when the weather began to cool again. As autumn advanced, temperatures dropped, and the first snows began to cover the mountains. This natural signal marked the start of the Pirarovy's return journey. They retraced the same path, but now swimming against the current of the Akua River.
During this return trip, the Pirarovy again passed through the same villages and cities, bringing with them the promise of a new fishing season.
Shifting his gaze from the group of fish and looking further ahead, the man saw a group of people by the stream, on some rocks. They were casting nets into the water in an attempt to catch the valuable Pirarovy. The fishermen formed a heterogeneous group, composed of individuals of various ages. There were teenagers, whose young and anxious faces reflected the inexperience and excitement of their first fishing season, alongside gray-haired men, whose time-marked skin and calloused hands told stories of decades dedicated to fishing. The older men guided the younger ones, their voices firm yet patient, creating a symphony of commands and lessons about the art of fishing.
The people of the northwest kingdom depended heavily on the Akua River for survival, especially during the Pirarovy migration seasons. Unlike the northeast, where fertile lands allowed for abundant harvests, the northwest was a region of poorer soil and harsher climate. Agriculture there was limited and often insufficient to sustain the population. Thus, the Akua River became the main source of food and income.
During the Pirarovy migration months, the Akua River transformed into a vital hub of economic activity. The fishermen worked hard to catch as many of these fish as possible, highly valued throughout the kingdom for their tender and tasty meat. The abundant catches allowed not only to feed local families but also to create a surplus that could be traded. Baskets of fish filled quickly, and the sight of nearly full baskets beside the fishermen indicated they were having a good fishing day.
The trade of fish with other parts of the kingdom brought a crucial injection of wealth to the northwest. Merchants from distant lands traveled there to trade, exchanging food, fabrics, and other necessary goods for shipments of Pirarovy. This trade not only ensured the subsistence of families for the rest of the year but also allowed the region to connect with the rest of the kingdom, participating in a larger economic network.
That is why the first and seventh months of the year were the happiest for the people here. During these periods, the frantic activity on the banks of the Akua River was a sign of imminent prosperity. The Pirarovy fishing brought renewed hope and a sense of security to the community. The sight of fish in the baskets, shining in the sun, was a symbol of luck and abundance. Thus, the northern people's dependence on the Akua River, especially during the Pirarovy migration seasons, was a fundamental part of their life and identity.
Still distracted by the scene, the seated man heard footsteps behind him. The sound was almost imperceptible, a light pressure on dry leaves and branches scattered on the forest floor. The careful and measured steps clearly belonged to someone accustomed to moving silently, an unmistakable sign of an experienced hunter. The seated man's eyes suddenly sharpened, reflecting a sense of authority and making it clear he was no simple man. Even absorbed in his thoughts, he was the first to notice the approach, while the ten soldiers accompanying him remained oblivious, only becoming aware when the hunter emerged from the tree line.
When the hunter finally stepped out of the tree shadows, the soldiers showed expressions of surprise, their hands instinctively moving towards their weapons. However, upon recognizing the man, they quickly relaxed, exchanging looks of relief and respect. It was evident they knew the hunter well and trusted his abilities.
The hunter was a man dressed in tight leather clothing, perfectly fitting his body, allowing agile and silent movements. His hat, made from the skin of an unfortunate squirrel, stood out for its high quality. The skin was thick, soft, and well-tanned, highlighting the hunter's talent and care in every detail of his craft. The hat, in particular, was adorned with small feathers and fine stitching, revealing impressive craftsmanship.
The newcomer brought his feet together, maintaining an erect posture while his arms rested lightly behind his back. With a graceful movement, he bowed before the seated man, demonstrating deep respect. The hunter's eyes, fixed on the ground for a moment, slowly lifted to meet the man's. His voice, though firm, was low and respectful. "My lord, I found their tracks. I believe they are not far."
Baron Oliver, who was seated, finally stood up, revealing a calm and controlled expression. It was as if he knew it was only a matter of time before the hunter found the tracks of the bandits that had been troubling him in recent days. His lips curved into a slight smile of satisfaction. "Good, let's pick up the pace. I want to rid ourselves of these pests soon." He then mounted his horse with natural elegance, his movements flowing with the practice and confidence of a veteran leader.
The soldiers, following the baron's example, quickly mounted their horses. The group set off in an orderly formation, following the hunter who led them with agile and sure steps, disappearing once again into the forest's density.