The Start Of The Hunt

"The game of chess has begun," she whispered to herself. "And I am already one step ahead."

As the sun began its ascent, the palace bustled with activity. Servants hurried about, preparing for the grand hunt that was set to begin soon. Amidst this, an anxious palace attendant made his way to Princess Zephyrine's chamber, only to be stopped at the entrance by her ladies-in-waiting.

"State your business," one of them demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

The attendant hesitated. "Princess Zephyrine summoned me."

The ladies exchanged skeptical glances. "The princess is preparing for the hunt. Why would she summon you now?"

"I… I was told she needed me," he insisted.

"By whom?"

Before the attendant could respond, the doors to the chamber swung open. Princess Zephyrine stepped out, her attire meticulously arranged for the occasion—a deep blue hunting gown embroidered with golden patterns, a matching cloak draped over her shoulders. Her fiery red hair was pulled into an elegant braid, and a dagger was strapped to her belt.

"What's going on here?" she inquired, her tone calm but authoritative.

One of her attendants immediately bowed. "Your Highness, this man claims you summoned him."

Zephyrine's sharp gaze flickered toward the palace attendant. "Who told you that?"

The man swallowed nervously. "It was Lady Mireya, Your Highness."

For a brief moment, something unreadable passed through Zephyrine's eyes. Then, with a soft chuckle, she said, "Ah, yes. That's correct. I did summon you."

The attendant's confusion was evident, but he remained silent, awaiting further instructions.

Zephyrine turned to one of her trusted tendant. "Accompany him to the market and ensure he purchases the finest fabric available. I require something exquisite."

The attendant bowed. "At once, Your Highness."

The palace attendant, still perplexed, accepted the errand with a respectful nod before following Zephyrine's attendant out of the corridor.

Zephyrine then turned on her heel, making her way toward the royal stables. Just as she arrived, she caught sight of her brother, Prince Zoltan, who had just mounted his powerful black stallion. The horse neighed, eager to move, but Zoltan reined it in as Zephyrine called out to him.

"Brother!" she said, approaching gracefully.

Zoltan pulled his horse to a stop, his piercing gaze settling on her. "You're joining the hunt as well?"

Zephyrine smirked, adjusting her gloves. "Of course. Why? Do you find me incapable of it?"

Zoltan huffed, his lips curving slightly in amusement. "You never cease to surprise me."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. "Nor do I intend to. But tell me, did you sleep well?"

Zoltan stiffened slightly. "Why do you ask?"

Zephyrine chuckled. "Oh, no reason. I was just wondering if you found the unexpected company in your chambers… to your liking."

Zoltan's expression darkened. "You—"

Before he could finish, the loud blare of the hunting horn signaled the beginning of the hunt. The emperor and the nobles had already started moving into formation. Zoltan clenched his jaw, giving his sister one last look before spurring his horse forward.

Zephyrine watched him ride off, her smirk never fading.

"Fool," she murmured to herself before gracefully mounting her own horse and galloping after him.

The hunting grounds were already bustling with excitement by the time Zoltan and Zephyrine arrived. The emperor sat atop his powerful black stallion, watching the gathered nobles and royal family members as they prepared their weapons and adjusted their saddles.

At the sight of Zoltan and Zephyrine approaching, his sharp eyes darkened slightly with impatience.

"You are late," he said, his voice calm but edged with displeasure.

Zoltan bowed his head slightly in apology, while Zephyrine merely smiled, unbothered. Before either of them could respond, a flurry of movement interrupted them as their younger brothers—Zyrian, Zeravian, and Zorvian—rushed forward.

The youngest, six-year-old Zorvian, flung himself at Zephyrine's legs, clinging to her tightly. His chubby cheeks were puffed in an adorable pout as he whined, "Sister, why were you late? We were waiting for so long!"

Before she could answer, eight-year-old Zeravian crossed his arms and smirked. "It's obvious, isn't it? Sister Zephyrine takes hours to get ready. Brother Zoltan must have been waiting for her all morning!"

Laughter rippled through the gathering, and even the emperor's stern expression softened into a light chuckle.

Zyrian, the eldest of the three at eleven years old, groaned and pinched Zeravian's waist in an attempt to silence him. "Idiot, stop embarrassing us."

Zeravian yelped dramatically. "Father! Brother Zyrian is pinching me!"

More laughter erupted, the tension of the earlier scolding forgotten. Zyrian sighed, covering his face with one hand as if he couldn't believe he was related to this troublemaker.

Zoltan sighed as well, but with a faint smile, he quickly reached out and separated the two squabbling boys. "Enough, both of you. We are here to hunt, not to quarrel."

With that, the emperor raised a hand, signaling for silence.

"The hunt begins now," he announced. "Let us see who among us will bring back the most worthy prize."

With a flick of his reins, he led the charge into the vast forest, followed by the rest of the nobles, knights, and royal family. The thunder of hooves filled the air as the riders scattered into the wilderness, and the real game began.

At the emperor's signal, the riders surged forward like a wave, the thundering of hooves shaking the earth beneath them. The elite hunters—nobles, knights, and princes—dashed into the depths of the forest, their hunting falcons and hounds leading the way. The rustling leaves and distant calls of wild beasts filled the air as the hunt officially commenced.

Zephyrine, however, along with the young princes—Zyrian, Zeravian, and Zorvian—rode at a more measured pace. The emperor had ordered a team of elite guards to accompany them, ensuring their safety in case of unexpected dangers. While the others rode freely, the young royals were flanked protectively, their bows and quivers more for show than real combat.

Zorvian, the youngest, gripped his reins tightly, his small fingers barely managing the leather straps. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he turned to Zephyrine. "Sister, will we catch something big today?"

Zephyrine smiled at him and ruffled his golden curls. "Perhaps. But remember, little one, patience is key in hunting. It is not always about who is the fastest but who is the smartest."

Zeravian scoffed, already scanning the trees with determination. "I don't want to be patient! I want to shoot a deer today and show Father that I am strong!"

Zyrian, riding just ahead of them, smirked. "With your aim? The only thing you'll hit is a tree trunk."

Zeravian glared at his older brother and was about to retort when a horn echoed in the distance.

The Emperor was making an announcement.

"Today's hunt is not only for sport," declared the Emperor, his voice carrying across the gathered hunters. "It is a test of instinct, strength, and wisdom. But now, I will issue a challenge—one that will reveal the true worth of my hunters."

The nobles and princes exchanged glances. A challenge from the emperor himself? This was no ordinary hunt.

A royal guard stepped forward and handed the emperor a sealed scroll. He unrolled it, scanning its contents before nodding.

"There is a beast deep within these woods," the emperor continued. "A black-furred direwolf—larger than any normal wolf, swift, and dangerous. It has evaded hunters for years, but today, one of you will bring it down."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A direwolf? That was no ordinary prey—it was a predator, cunning and deadly.

"This is not a test of who kills first," the emperor warned. "This is a test of leadership, teamwork, and strategy. You will form groups of three, and the team that successfully captures or slays the beast shall be rewarded."

Zoltan felt his pulse quicken. This was no longer a mere game. He was confident in his skills, but a direwolf required more than just precision—it required strategy.

Emrys smirked slightly. "This should be interesting."

Zoltan ignored him and turned to Zephyrine, who met his gaze with a knowing look.

"The game of chess continues," she murmured.

The hunters quickly began forming teams. Zoltan found himself paired with Duke Gideon's son, Thomas and another young noble names Daniel, while Emrys formed his own group with two of his loyal supporters.

The hunt had only been the beginning. Now, the real challenge was about to begin.

Deeper into the woods, the other hunters were already in pursuit. Zoltan gripped his bow tightly, his eyes scanning the dense foliage for movement.

Ahead, the sounds of galloping hooves and the barking of hounds signaled that someone had spotted prey. With a swift pull of the reins, Zoltan adjusted his course, heading toward the commotion. The dense canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across the forest floor, where fallen leaves crunched beneath galloping hooves. The wind carried the faint scent of damp earth and wild game, a scent that sent the hounds into a frenzy.

A rustling in the underbrush caught Zoltan's attention. His gaze locked onto the source just as a large stag burst through the trees, its antlers gleaming in the sunlight. The beast moved with powerful strides, its breath visible in the crisp morning air. Without hesitation, Zoltan spurred his horse forward, nocking an arrow in one smooth motion.

But he wasn't the only one.

Emrys and Thomas, Duke Gideon's only son, were already in pursuit. The three riders matched the stag's pace, their horses thundering side by side.

Zoltan drew his bow, the tension in the string mirroring the tension in the air. Just as he was about to release his arrow, Emrys veered slightly into his path. It was a subtle move—one that wouldn't be seen as outright obstruction but enough to disrupt his perfect shot.

The stag took advantage of the hesitation and leaped over a fallen log, changing course.

"Tch." Zoltan clicked his tongue in annoyance but quickly adjusted. He leaned forward, urging his horse to close the distance. Emrys and Thomas were still on either side of him, their expressions focused, their grips steady.

Zoltan smirked. If they wanted a test of skill, he would give them one.

He pulled his reins sharply to the right, breaking away from the main pursuit. Instead of following the direct path of the stag, he took a shortcut through a narrow trail flanked by thick bushes. His horse barely squeezed through, branches whipping against his arms, but he emerged just ahead of the fleeing beast.

Perfect.

Drawing his bow again, he inhaled deeply. Time seemed to slow as he focused solely on his target. With a swift exhale, he released the arrow.

The sound of impact echoed through the forest.

The stag staggered, its powerful legs faltering as the arrow embedded itself deep in its side. But before it could collapse, another arrow struck—this time from Emrys.

For a brief moment, silence fell over the hunters. Then, the cheers of nobles erupted in the distance, signaling other successful kills.

Zoltan dismounted, approaching the fallen stag with calculated steps. Emrys did the same, both men staring at the beast before glancing at each other.

"You aimed for the heart," Emrys noted, his tone unreadable. "A clean shot."

Zoltan smirked. "Yet your arrow was the one to finish it off."

"Then who takes credit for the kill?" one of the nobles nearby asked with a smirk.

Zoltan and Emrys locked eyes, but before either could respond, a voice called out from behind them.

"The emperor will decide," said Zephyrine, riding into view with the younger princes in tow. "Until then, it seems this contest is far from over."

The hunt had tested their skill. But the true game—the one that would decide the future—had only just begun.