Chapter 8

The Hunter and the Lady

Daegan loped up the stairs.

He had to admit it, if there was one single thing he liked about Rubastre; it was how easy it was to get around. The palace itself only had five floors to it, meaning you didn’t spend your days with your legs burning unlike his father’s palace, which was built right into the Pillar of Reldon itself. Daegan had spent his entire life arduously climbing the countless stairs in the place. He was escorted by Kerala and Tanlor, the two armed guards easily keeping pace with him despite being clad in armour; Tanlor in his brushed steel and Kerala in her black Reldoni plate.

Being a Duke—the Rubanian equivalent of a Reldoni Highlord or Citylord—Boern Garron was residing in the upper and eminent suites. Unlike Daegan’s own set of rooms, the Duke’s were much larger, having its own antechamber. When Daegan entered, he was greeted by the Duke’s steward and then escorted to the Duke’s lounge which wasn’t that much different to Daegan’s own.

“Duke Garron, I am Prince Daegan of Reldon, I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance,” Daegan introduced himself to the beast of a man. He looked much like Tanlor—it would be impossible to not note familial resemblance—tall, broad shoulders, blond hair and a jaw that looked like a butcher’s block. In traditional Rubanian fashion, Boern kept his hair long and tied back. The sides were shaved like a warrior and his build suggested that he fancied himself as one too.

“Prince Daegan,” Boern inclined his head, “I am Duke Boern Garron of Garronforn.” He said, his eyes flicked to Tanlor but he did not make any acknowledgement of his cousin. Tanlor did not seem to take any offence but Daegan noted the man seemed even more stiff than he had been before. Not a very congenial family, it would seem.

“You wanted to meet with me?” Boern said, taking a seat at his desk and offering the other to Daegan.

“I did,” Daegan said, “how was your journey from Garronforn? From what I've heard that the road east can be treacherous this time of year.”

“It’s always a dangerous road,” Boern replied shortly, “almost impassable in winter with the snowfalls. And the bandits crawl out from Shrydan forest as soon as it thaws.” Daegan did not miss Boern’s notable glance to Tanlor.

“I won’t be in the capital long,” Boern continued, “so my time is in short supply. So let’s get on with this. What did you want to meet with me about?” Boern had a certain dismissive air about him but that was something that Daegan was accustomed to.

“The Garronforn Ironworks,” Daegan said, cutting right to his purpose, “the Reldoni army wishes to increase its shipments of steel.”

“You’re in the wrong place. Go discuss this with my guildmasters, I have no time to discuss such petty matters,” Boern said curtly.

“I already did,” Daegan replied, a little taken aback by Boern’s abrasiveness, “they say our orders can’t be fulfilled because of the increase in pirates along the Rathlin coast.”

“You don’t seem to understand,” Boern said condescendingly, “Dukes don’t deal in merchant’s matters… that’s for the guilds to manage, it’s not my concern.”

“It is when it comes to policing your own coastlines. They need more protection for their merchant vessels.” Daegan responded, feeling his irritation rising.

“Then send your own damn warships to protect them! The only reason there’s so many pirates up here is because your brother’s been running them all out of Altarea.”

“Do you really want Reldoni warships patrolling your coastline?” Daegan responded irritably, “and besides this in your benefit, increased exports is good for your city,” he tried, opting for a change in tact, “the more gold that goes into your merchant’s pockets, the more that goes into yours.”

“Don’t you patronise me,” Boern said hotly, “do you think me a fool—that I don’t understand how taxes work.” The Duke got up from his desk, “I’m not wasting my time with a simpleton. It baffles me why the Arch Duke entertains this farce.”

He wasn’t even talking to Daegan anymore, looking to his attendants. Daegan sat in his chair, the Dukes sudden outburst leaving him speechless. The anger and exasperation rising in him made his legs shake.

“We need a capable ambassador to work with,” Boern continued, “until then, you can play at being the consul with my guildmasters and waste their time instead. Sevard,” He stopped to indicate to one of his attendants, “give Guildmaster Urun’s contact information to Prince Daegan so he can take up the matter with him.” and then proudly left the chamber, his other attendants trailing behind. He didn’t even acknowledge Daegan as he left.

Daegan sat quietly fuming in his seat. He knew that other highborn would be difficult, particularly those with ranks close to his own. He knew they believed that because he was a cripple, he was also a fool. He had experienced it his entire life. But at least in Reldon, the other highborn were forced to be gracious, he was their Prince after all even if they thought he was a halfwit. He had not been prepared for the outright hostility he had received from some of the Rubanian highborn.

Sevard at least had the decorum to look awkwardly apologetic for his lord’s behaviour. The attendant pulled a parchment from the stacks on the desk. “Forgive the Duke, my lord. He is very busy at the moment. Between the bandits and the pirates, we’ve now had reports of raids in the Balfold… even sightings of rakmen!”

Boern thinks me a halfwit yet he believes in stories of rakmen and trolls.

“Just give me this Urun fellow’s information,” Daegan said with a resigned shake of his head.

“Of course, my lord, here,” he offered a parchment to Daegan. “You can read, my lord?” Sevard’s question was offensively innocuous.

He genuinely thinks that I cannot fucking read.

Daegan looked at him darkly, mustering all his control not to slap him. The question in Daegan’s did not even warrant a response. He snatched the parchment and stormed out of the room, Kerala and Tanlor dutifully tailing him wordlessly.

Daegan’s boots slammed against the hardwood floors. Boern I’m-so-fucking-important Garron. He crumpled the parchment in his hand and had been about to tear it up but restrained himself. He would need this.

I have to bend over for these Rubanian jackasses all because Landryn wants more fucking steel.

“Is everyone in your family as charming as him?” Daegan glared at Tanlor.

“Most of ‘em, my lord,” he replied, evidently uncomfortable.

“You two seemed friendly.”

“Last time Boern spoke any words to me was when I was knighted,” Tanlor replied, “something along the lines of; ‘you’re a knight now, so fuck off out of this castle and provide for yourself.’ That was about seven years ago. So no, my lord, I can’t say we’ve ever been close,” Tanlor replied, his face made it very clear how the man felt about Boern.

“My relatives are a pack of pricks too,” Daegan replied, “come on, I need a drink.”

***

It had taken some cajoling, but Daegan eventually coaxed Tanlor into telling him which of the taverns on the main thoroughfare he would be unlikely to run into any higher ranking highborn. He’d had enough of snide comments and—more offensively—condolences from the lords and ladies of Duke Edmund’s court.

He knew he couldn’t exactly go completely incognito here in Rubastre, unlike at home where he could just wear a hat and simply blend into the crowds. There weren’t many Reldoni highborn in the city and someone would quickly recognise him as the Reldoni consul. So instead he dismissed the idea of trying to blend into the crows and opted for company who would simply be too afraid of him and—more importantly—his station to offend him. He found himself in a tavern frequented by lower ranking military officers, palace guards and wealthier merchants. The kind of place Tanlor undoubtedly felt comfortable bringing a foreign prince to without fear of any trouble starting.

He sat with three other men. Friendly fellows, particularly after Daegan had bought them a few rounds of whitewhiskey. Kerala hung back near the door, preferring to keep a distance and have a better view of everyone in the tavern. Two of the men were in Duke Edmund’s own personal guard—one was a young lad like Tanlor—the other man was an older man named Gerold, greasy dark haired man who smelled like he washed himself with ale. He wasn’t a soldier and Daegan hadn’t quite sussed him out or why he chose to spend his evenings drinking with palace guards specifically. But he was a friendly man and the others all seemed to know him. Gerold slammed back his whitewhiskeys faster than everyone else, taking the whole glass in one swig. Never a drop landing in his grey kept beard.

“We really should be going, my lord,” Tanlor said to Daegan after he ordered the drink.

“What? The night is still young, Tanlor. Go on have a drink on me, you’re off duty now, no?”

“I don’t drink, my lord,” Tanlor replied.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Go on, I’m not in any danger here. These are all the Duke’s men, no?”

“It’s not that, my lord. I just prefer not to is all.”

“Tanlor’s usually too busy with his secret missus to be drinking with us,” Gerold interjected, “almost midnight, lad. She’s waiting for ye.” Tanlor stiffened, even more so than usual.

“A secret lover,” Daegan smiled, “what’s her name?”

“Gerold is mistaken, my lord,” Tanlor said giving Gerold a pointed look.

“Tell you what,” Daegan began, “if your lover is —” he cut off as Ferath strode into the tavern. Daegan shouldn’t have been surprised, half the reason Daegan had been sent to this city had been to keep him out of trouble in the Reldoni vicedens and he was beginning to suspect Ferath was told to keep an eye on him to stop him slipping back into bad habits.

“Ah Ferath, come to join us?” He asked as Ferath stepped up to their table.

“It’s late, would you prefer I escort you back to the palace, my lord?”

“Nonsense, come have a drink— Ale? Whitewhiskey? I think they might even have a Reinish red I spotted. Miss!” Daegan said, calling over the serving girl, “I’ll take that bottle of Reinish wine you have behind the bar there for the table.” The other men at the table cheered. If Ferath objected further to Daegan’s protests he didn’t show it but he also didn’t pull up a chair either.

“Meetings didn’t go well, my lord?” Ferath asked.

“Whatever makes you think that?” Daegan asked, and then took a long heavy slurp of a dark ale that was in front of him. It was cold, and delicious. The beers back home were light, and just didn’t have the same richness as a good wine, but these dark ales had a pleasantly satisfying weight to them. It’s like a meal in a glass, who needs food when you can just drink a tankard instead.

“A letter from Epilas arrived,” Ferath said, “Landryn isn’t happy.”

“Well, Landryn can deal with that ox-head Boern himself. The man’s an ignorant cunt,” Daegan said, “no offence to your family Tanlor,” he added and then thought better of it, “actually no, I do mean offensive to your family. That’s exactly what I intended.”

The other men at the table shifted a bit uncomfortably. Tanlor didn’t respond, “think I’ll do some rounds,” he said and then rose. “Oh come on, Tanlor. You can admit it yourself, the man is a cunt.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ferath offered, “Kerala can watch the Prince. She’s one of my best swords. You can give me the guard report for the day while we walk.”

“Fine then, go,” Daegan said as they rose to leave, “I don’t need your sobriety killing the mood.”

“What was that about Tanlor’s family?” one guard—Devon, if Daegan’s recollection was accurate, which after a few whitewhiskeys wasn’t very likely —asked once Tanlor and Ferath were out of earshot.

“Oh Boern Garron — his cousin. The man’s an ass,” Daegan said simply and took another swig of his tankard.

“Duke Boern Garron?” the Devon said, incredulously, “But Tanlor’s just a guard, why isn’t he off being a lord somewhere if he’s cousin to a Duke?”

“You didn’t know?” Gerold asked.

“Devon’s only been in the guard a few weeks, he’s just a greenboy,” the other guard piped in.

“He’s Taran Shrydan’s son,” Gerold said conspiratorially, leaning in closer to the table, as if he were letting them in on some scandal. I’ve only been here four weeks and I know that, it’s hardly a secret. But Daegan was getting the feeling that Gerold was the kind of man who just liked to pretend he knew a lot of things that others didn’t. Maybe Daegan should have held himself back in his comments on Boern, but then again did he really care if the remarks made their way back to the man.

“Taran Shrydan? Isn’t that the Hunter from the story?” Devon said, “He’s Tanlor’s father?!”

“What is this story, I’ve heard it mentioned quite a bit,” Daegan asked, his interest piqued.

“You never heard the story of the Lady and the Hunter?” Gerold asked. Daegan shook his head and Gerold leaned back in his chair, stroking his short beard and big grin on his face.

“Tis a fine story, m’lord, it begins in Garronforn,” the others at the table sighed.

“What?” Gerold said looking around at the other guards.

“You’re awful at telling stories,” the other guard said, Devon nodding in agreement, “It’s true” he said, “I might only been here a few weeks but even I know that much. Let me tell it, I know that story.”

“The Prince asked me so I’m telling it and that’s that.

It begins in Garronforn. It was late in the season, and as we all know the roads around Garronforn can be dangerous at the best of times and this was back before they had chosen Duke Edmund in the moot to be Arch, before his men started the patrols. The Duke Garron and his family were on their way here to Rubastre to pay homage to the Arch Duke Tyron’s passing. But the youngest daughter of the Duke Garron had fallen ill a few days before the trip so the family had proceeded on without her. When she suddenly started feeling better the young lady-in-waiting tried to catch up to her father’s retinue. A foolish move by the silly girl, riding out alone on the road. It weren’t long before she was kidnapped by raiders —”

“—It weren’t raiders,” Devon interjected, “it were Rakki!”

“How could bloody rakmen make it all the way to Garronforn, eh?!” Especially considering rakmen don’t exist.

“I dunno, it’s a story!”

“It’s a true story, that’s why we’re telling it! And it were raiders. Anyways, the raiders kidnapped the youngest daughter of Lord Garron. His pride and joy. And these raiders, these were a trickier type, they were wildmen from the north. They disappeared into the deep forests north of Garronforn, beyond the Verglas. It was there they kept her as a prisoner in their camp while they worked on Duke Garron for the ransom.

The Hunter — he was a lone wolf, you see — He would spend months in the great white north, hunting great elk and wild mammanth across the Frostlands. Now he stumbled across their camp and saw that they had a young woman as their prisoner. And being an honourable and courageous man, he devised a plan to save her. He snuck into the camp late at night, and as quietly as a fox, he slit the throats of the raiders in their sleep. Once he had done the gruesome task, he freed the lady from her bonds—”

“—No, no,” Devon cut in again, “he didn’t sneak in!”

“Yes he did.”

“No, he didn’t! The raiders were attacked by a dragon and he took advantage of the situation you see and managed to rescue her during the commotion.”

“No, you’re wrong. The dragon comes later, now let me tell it,” Gerold said, giving Devon an exasperated look.

“So once they were safely away from the raider camp, the Hunter started asking her questions about who she was and how she ended up there. And now, you see— this girl was clever and educated. She knew better than to tell some stranger out in the wilderness that she was Duke Garron’s daughter, so she lied about it. Said she was from a village not too far away and that the raiders had kidnapped her from there.

The Hunter may not have been educated but he knew the lands and he knew that there weren’t no villages this far north of the frozen lake. But he played along. ‘Alright, miss’ he says, ‘I’ll take you back to your village’. And so, together they made their way through the wilderness. They follow the forest track for days and still no village appears. The Lady now, she starts getting worried that he’s going to realize who she is and try to ransom her father himself so when the huntsman is sleeping she makes a run for it—”

“—Out on her own, in the white north. She hadn’t a hope,” Devon said.

“That’s right,” Gerold said, “she didn’t. And this is where she runs into the dragon’s nest.”

“Dragon’s nest?” Devon asked.

“Yeah a bloody dragon’s nest. This is where the Hunter fights the dragon and saves her again.”

“I thought it were Trolls that she ran into.”

“Trolls! There isn’t even such a thing as trolls. It were a dragon’s nest”

“I thought this was where the Rakki tribe took her,” the other guard butted in.

“You’re ruining the story!” Gerold said, “Either way the Hunter saves her. Again!”

“How does this story have anything to do with Tanlor?” Daegan said his interest in the story quickly diminishing with the haphazard telling.

“We’ll get to that, m’lord, don’t be worrying. So after the Hunter has saved her from dragons, trolls, rakmen and whatever else, she clearly starts to see this hunter as a hero and so she tells him the truth. Explains who she really is. Now the hunter is devastated because he was beginning to fall for this lass who keeps running away and getting herself into trouble. But as he’s an honourable man, he vows to bring her back home. It was on the journey home that they ran into the rakmen, you see. They’d attacked a town just north of the frozen lake and were holding it

With the rakmen holding the only passage south. They were holed up in a cave all winter. And as we know the winters up here can get awfully cold.” Gerold said with a grin and the other men laughed.

“The two had made themselves a comfortable life in the wilds. He would hunt and she would prepare meals and the fire, they were happy. They stayed for months hidden in the forests.

But Lord Garron’s army finally came north to take care of the rakmen. The Duke’s men made quick work of the savages and when they were scouting the nearby forests wouldn’t you know who they found out in the wilderness; the lost daughter herself. And even though she resisted, even going so far as to lie to the Duke’s men, claiming she wasn’t the Duke’s daughter, the soldiers bundle her up and took her back to the Duke. They also take the Hunter too because they reckon he’s the one that kidnapped her in the first place, you see. Now, Duke Garron’s not seen his daughter in almost a year. He’s overjoyed to see her but he’s also thirsty for blood. He wants to punish the man who kept her from him. But the daughter threw herself at her father’s feet and explained to him everything that had happened; that the Hunter had saved her life over and over. That she loved him and just wanted to be with him. Duke Garron was so overcome with just having his daughter being found safe and unharmed and now he was realising that he had this hunter to thank for it. The Duke made the Hunter an honorary highborn of his court and even agreed for them to be married. And they all returned to Garron together, and on the following unionsday the pair were wed before the dry cliffs of Garron.

Now, isn’t that a lovely well told story” Gerold finished, taking a long satisfied gulp of his whitewhiskey.

“Em, yes lovely.” Daegan lied and then said, “so I’m going to take a guess here that the Hunter and the Lady are Tanlor’s parents then.” Even without the more fanciful elements of the story, Daegan was suspect of how much truth was in it. If the Duke Garron that Daegan had met earlier was anything like his grandfather, he highly doubted the man would have so graciously allowed his daughter to marry the hunter.

“Yes, they are,” Gerold responded, “can’t be too easy living in the shadow of a story like that, I can see why he never wants to talk about it. That and being the son of a hunter yet also being part of a highborn family.”

The story certainly wasn’t very captivating, perhaps Daegan should have taken Tanlor’s advice and instead asked one of the Duke’s bards to recite it for him. Likely would have been a great deal more poetic than listening to the butchered attempt by this amateur storyteller who’d had far too many whitewhiskeys and a very inflated opinion of his ability. But still, he got the story across. Daegan had wanted to know and now he did. The tale of the Hunter and the Lady was the kind of classically dull Rubanian story of a hero and a damsel that Daegan was becoming familiar with. It jarred so starkly against his culture. Had the story taken place in Reldon, the woman would likely have fought and have killed her captors, or gotten herself killed, at the very start of the story, and that would’ve been the end of it. The story didn’t teach him much about why Boern was such an ass or why he and Tanlor didn’t speak, but it was another reminder for how Rubanian men saw women less as people and more as their property that needed to be protected.

It was a remarkable blindspot these men had and it made Daegan wonder why Rubanian women even put up with it. If she had been their captive for months then there had been multiple opportunities for a full Luna where the Duke’s daughter could have simply overpowered her captors and escaped? Daegan dismissed the thought, he doubted there was much truth in the story and found that didn’t really care either way. He was happy to just drink the Reinish red wine that the serving girl had brought to the table and enjoy the warmth of the tavern hearths and good company for a change.