The terms of the Dathow Han Accords had determined that every family would have to contribute one individual between the ages of 16 and 30 for five years of conscripted service. Despite Saorise’s new role as the Arch Duchess of the Eastern Region, the Caramorts were no exception to this rule. Given Saorise’s appointment, and Isaac’s role as heir to the Caramort Estates, the only reasonable choice was Lyle.

He’d made it to the top fifty of the hand-to-hand combat competition. With the older sister and brother that he had, he was no pushover either. Impulsive and had a lot to learn, but skilled nonetheless.

Isaac had argued with him at first on the ride back to the Caramort Keep, but after what Saorise had said, Lyle had made up his mind.

“If I can contribute to this new order by serving in their military for five years, it will mean that you and dad can handle the East in peace, and Saorise can handle the Courts,” said Lyle, “I’d be no use helping dad, I’m not going to be the next head of the family anyway. I’ll do this, because it’s the only choice we have”.

Isaac had been reluctant, but he’d agreed, as had their father.

Lyle stood now with the other participants in the hours before dawn, tightening the straps on his forearms that would keep his arms covered.

A few of the other nobles lingered nearby. As a Caramort, many gravitated towards Lyle, but he was by far the least sociable among his siblings, and he had few outside of his family that he frequently spoke with. Even fewer that were conscripted.

“Lyle”.

Saorise’s soft voice broke through the crowd, and Lyle turned to watch them part and let her through. She looked like a Queen even in the early hours of the morning. Her bright eyes surveyed him before she gave an approving nod and stopped before him, “Ready then?”

“Of course”.

Lyle’s short answer came out dismissive, but Saorise didn’t move, knowing that it wasn’t what her younger brother truly wanted.

“You did well yesterday, I’m sorry I hadn’t the chance to say so earlier,” said Saorise.

“You and Isaac taught me well,” Lyle replied.

Saorise rolled her eyes, then reached out and ran her fingers through his scruffy brown locks. Lyle battered her hand away, “Stop it”.

“You stop being so serious, we could use a few more smiles around here,” said Saorise.

“I’m not really the smiling kind,” said Lyle.

“I know, but you’ve got a few smiles appearing from your reaction,” said Saorise. Her eyes hinted at the crowd around them, and Lyle turned to see more than one pair of eyes swiftly glancing away.

Lyle sighed, “When will you stop teasing me like I’m a child, sister?”

Saorise shrugged, “Probably never. It’s in the job description”.

“Right next to Represent the Eastern Peoples?” asked Lyle.

“Oh no,” Saorise shook her head, “It’s most certainly located at a far more prominent level”.

Lyle raised an eyebrow in question, and Saorise stepped forward to give a kiss on her brother’s chin, “Let the trees sing to you in your absence, and the wind guide you home, brother”.

Then Saorise stepped away towards the observation platform where Isaac and their father awaited her.

Lyle sighed, unable to help the ghost of a smile on his lips before he heard a disturbance to the left. The crowd whispered and clamoured, parting as it had for Saorise before Prince Isiah emerged, dressed in simple but well-tailored clothing and heavy boots. Lyle looked up him and down as the Prince came to stand before him.

“Good morning, Young Master Caramort,” said the Prince.

“And you, your Highness,” Lyle replied, “Get a little lost?”

The Prince looked down at himself with eyebrows raised, “Did I dress wrongly, I was advised that simple clothes that allow for movement were best”.

“Advised?” asked Lyle. The Prince nodded toward where Saorise was taking a seat, and Lyle turned back to face the Prince, surprise in his eyes, “You’re participating in the Hunt?”

The Prince gave a smile and nodded, “Of course”.

Lyle again appraised what the Prince was wearing before he spoke, “With all due respect, your highness, you are aware that nobody here will make allowances because of your bloodline, yes?”

“The Arch Duchess gave ample warnings,” said the Prince, “But I was also informed that only the top participants of this event could compete in the Capture the Flag event tomorrow”.

Lyle raised an eyebrow, “Have you hunted on your own before, your highness?”

“It is usually done in groups in Wendolan,” stated the Prince, “But the rules have been explained, I find it intriguing and I’m sure it’ll be both an opportunity and a challenge that I have yet to have the benefit of. Besides, a Prince always desires opponents who will not make allowances because of their bloodline”.

Lyle couldn’t help the ounce of respect he had for the Prince in that moment as the call for attention was put forth on the stage, “Well, your highness, I suppose the only thing left to say is good luck”.

“And to you,” the Prince replied as he turned to face the stage with Lyle.

One by one, the participants stepped forward, took a number, had their names recorded, and chose their starting position.

Most chose to start the day as the Hunted. It meant that they could not only get a good lay of the land, but they also got a head start on the grounds. Before long, the Prince stepped forward the took a ticket from the large barrel, 428. Unlike many of those before him, the Prince took a quiver of arrows and a bow. Lyle raised an eyebrow at the choice, but let it go before he too stepped forward, reaching a hand into the barrel and withdrawing a slip of paper. He unfolded it as he walked towards the registration table, only to pause as soon as he saw the number.

428.

What kind of sick twist of fate was this?

With a sigh, Lyle placed the number down on the table, then walked over to the block of the hunted. His number and partner announced as he did.

“Lyle Caramort partners with Prince Isiah Westfold”.

A round of whispers rose up. Lyle sighed as he turned and glanced over at his family. Saorise was not even bothering to hide her grin of amusement. Though it should have been impossible, Lyle would haven’t been surprised at all if Saorise had orchestrated the whole thing.

As the dawn arrived a half hour later, the horn blew, and the Hunted scattered into the Basin, headed for their destination.