#016. Hunting
“…I wasn’t angry. I was worried.”
Anastasia got down from the bed and stood in front of the window. Outside, beside the mansion, Enoch could be seen leading a horse.
“I will allow the people of this house to attack me as much as possible.”
Artorius couldn’t understand her words.
“So that later… when I take over the ducal house, it will serve as justification, won’t it?”
A wind blew in from outside.
Anastasia’s golden hair fluttered long in the breeze, and Artorius silently watched her back.
Just as his sword had left a scar that pierced her small upper body, it was clear that her small soul also bore deep wounds.
“Why not just take it down now?”
Artorius stood up from his seat.
“Right now, I could destroy this mansion and wipe out the entire family. Why don’t we do that, Anastasia?”
His suggestion was at once a path of mercy, sympathy, and pity.
But Anastasia rejected all of it—with unwavering resolve.
“That would be too comfortable an ending, Artorius.”
The Duke of Etrange was looking out the window from his study. Aslan had just visited and relayed everything.
“…She’s as impudent as her mother.”
Soon, a knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Every time Knight Bowie entered this study, he had doubts about the thickness of the door. Why was it built so thick?
But the moment he saw the Duke’s face, he found his answer.
Fear.
“You called for me, Your Grace.”
“…Come in.”
He was clearly afraid of his youngest daughter. Knight Bowie had heard the rumors well enough.
“What is it you summoned me for?”
The Duke handed him a ring. It was one of the few remaining treasures, a ring adorned with a magical mineral known as the “Tears of Dilemma.”
Once, it could nullify magical harm inflicted upon its owner—once per use.
“Keep Anastasia under surveillance from a distance. When the opportunity arises, you may eliminate her if possible.”
His expectations were not mistaken.
“Understood.”
“I trust you will not disappoint me.”
Dressed differently from a formally knighted man—clad in a black cloak and matte black leather attire—Knight Bowie knelt on one knee.
“I will not disappoint you.”
She could have mounted the horse on her own.
It wasn’t particularly difficult.
With a simple spell—no incantation even required—she could lightly lift herself up.
But Anastasia did not refuse Artorius’s offer to help her onto the saddle.
The horse’s coat was sleek and black.
“Good work, Enoch.”
“Not at all. Ah, and Trish will arrive sometime tomorrow.”
“Good. That’s a relief.”
She had already been thinking it was time to stay vigilant.
The biggest concern was bath attendants.
When sleeping, bathing, or eating, one is most vulnerable to external attacks.
But even more frightening than that was the blade drawn by someone at her side.
Surrounding herself with people she could trust—that was Anastasia’s top priority.
“When will you return?”
“Before the sunset fades.”
Artorius was, in fact, taller than Anastasia even while she sat on horseback.
“Follow me, Artorius. I’ll show you the forest owned by the family.”
The Brown Forest.
That was its name. It was simply called that because, within the vast forest, there was a single hill where all the leaves of the trees were brown.
They had withered and died.
But Anastasia… for some reason, she liked it there. It was a place she had passed through on her way to Aquila Castle to eliminate Artorius.
Holding the reins, Anastasia urged her horse forward. After a few kicks in the stirrups, the horse quickened into a gallop.
“I told you I could keep up.”
And Artorius truly did not lag behind in speed at all.
Branches snapped under his feet with cracking sounds.
Artorius advanced, breaking branches without hesitation when they blocked his path.
Nothing could withstand the grip of that monstrous strength.
“…I didn’t expect you to actually keep up.”
Anastasia looked at Artorius running closely beside her with a slightly incredulous expression.
He even seemed relaxed—reaching out to push aside branches before they could strike him.
Soon, the green forest gave way entirely, revealing the “brown forest” that no ordinary person would find appealing.
A forest of dead trees.
“…You like a place like this?”
Artorius’s tone carried clear surprise.
“Yes. It strangely puts my mind at ease.”
At the center of the hill stood a single tree far larger and more grotesque than any other.
It was strange.
“Normally, trees in a forest wouldn’t differ so drastically in size within the same cluster.”
Artorius slowly approached the massive tree.
From deep beneath its base, a strange energy could be felt.
“…This is.”
Anastasia had already dismounted and was sitting, leaning against the base of the withered giant tree.
There had been no time to stop her.
Without a doubt, this was a presence harmful to living beings. As far as he knew, only the strongest resentment and obsession could form such a consciousness.
Yet strangely… it seemed to have no effect on Anastasia.
No—more precisely, it wasn’t that it could not affect her.
It was choosing not to.
“Is it comfortable?”
Artorius no longer pressed her for answers. Whatever this tree and its associated presence were, they held no hostility toward Anastasia.
When he approached her, it had emitted a sharp, piercing aura—but even that vanished when Anastasia looked at it.
“Yes. It is.”
That was when it happened.
Without any warning, Artorius suddenly pulled Anastasia into his arms.
Trapped within his large embrace, Anastasia froze in confusion, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of an attack.
Whoosh— thud!
The sound of an arrow striking.
But it hadn’t hit the tree—or her.
Which meant…
“…Artorius?”
He had shielded her once again.
“Shh. Stay still, Anastasia.”
Artorius whispered while holding her tightly without moving.
Anastasia did not move an inch. His embrace… wasn’t warm at all. In fact, it carried a slight chill.
Then, from beyond the brush, the sound of rustling footsteps approached. It was clearly a human’s steps.
“Better stay still.”
A low voice she had never heard before.
Even though she didn’t remember every knight in the ducal house, she could recall most of those she had met.
Not by name, but by their behavior, face, and voice.
Yet no matter how she searched her memories, that voice was not there.
“I’ve coated the arrowheads with poison. The more you move, the sooner you’ll die.”
Artorius remained silent. He was waiting for the right moment.
Waiting for the attacker to come closer—close enough to strike decisively.
Just one step.
The faint crunch of leaves signaled that step.
“Surrender the princess—!”
Artorius slowly rose. Only then could Anastasia see the attacker.
A black hood covering their head, black leather boots and gloves…
“…I’ve heard of them.”
The ducal house’s hidden force, the Raven Feather Knights. Once they were granted knighthood, their identities and records were erased.
“Stay still.”
Artorius warned in a low, rumbling voice. Anyone would freeze at that tone.
This… was not even something Saden could compare to.
Instinct screamed loudly within him—the being before him could not be considered alive.
It was fear itself.
Artorius drew the holy sword from his back, its radiant blade shining brightly in the middle of the brown forest.
“Move, and you will meet a swifter death.”
Knight Bowie saw death before him—brilliantly clear in that moment.
Regret followed.
He should have noticed something was wrong.
Those sharply gleaming blue eyes, the second princess whose demeanor and presence had completely changed in just a few days, and the Saden knight at her side…
He clenched his fist.
He had believed that after killing the escort knight with a poisoned arrow, capturing the princess would be trivial.
With the ring adorned by the Tears of Dilemma, he was confident he could close in within a mage’s range and drive a blade straight into that small body.
“But how…?”
Instead of answering, Artorius slowly removed his helmet. Standing with his back to Anastasia, she could not see it.
The face of the monster.
Submerged in the abyss, dissolved within darkness—now nothing more than a beast of despair, no longer human.
A face he would never want Anastasia to see.
“Do you think I am alive?”
Knight Bowie collapsed to his knees where he stood. His legs had completely given out. Only unending terror twisted and gripped his soul.
“How… you… what are you…?”
Artorius placed the distorted helmet back on and quietly raised his long sword.
An old companion.
Whenever his body twisted unnaturally and his limbs elongated, the royal holy sword that had chosen him would adapt, growing to match him.
“It’s been a long time since this blade last tasted human blood. Must be over a hundred years.”
The sun was setting beyond the mountains. The sunset dyed the blade red, its fading light glinting along its edge.
Then—
“…Sir Artorius.”
Artorius stopped.
“Anastasia?”
“Please stop.”
Anastasia rose from the base of the tree, brushing off the leaves clinging to her.
“…He tried to kill you, Anastasia.”
His voice simmered with heavy, suppressed anger.
“I know.”
Anastasia looked at Knight Bowie, who knelt trembling in overwhelming fear, tears streaming down his face.
Having been confined within the tower, her stature made her eye level nearly match his as he knelt.
“What is your name?”
He could not answer the first question. His focus had not yet returned.
Anastasia quietly removed both of her gloves and held them in her right hand.
Then she struck his cheek.
Smack!
“—Hah!”
Knight Bowie finally came to, looking at Anastasia before him.
Yet he did not dare draw the sword at his waist.
Because of the deep blue eyes watching him from behind her—eyes filled with overwhelming fear.
“What is your name?”
His cheek burned. It was clear the girl before him had struck him.
Which meant…
She had spared his life.
“…A-Albert. Albert Bowie.”
He pressed his head into the brown forest floor, filled only with dead leaves, and prostrated himself.
“P-please spare me, Princess!”
Anastasia briefly glanced back at Artorius. Looking up at his helmet, Artorius quietly shook his head.
It meant: he could not show her.
