The Guild took away everything. All of the weapons and armor that Tyr had acquired were deemed illegally obtained and confiscated. His item list was blank, after all, and yet there he was with all of his fancy gear. His house was abandoned and, together with Sarah, he left his only home behind. Everyone showed up to say goodbye, and each gave him a parting gift, along with a new and completed item list, just to be sure. The cart they wheeled them out on was so large it took four Aptonoth to pull it along.

Tyr tried to protest, as weak as he was, but no one would listen to him. The herdsman insisted that he’d saved the Aptonoth, and so they were his. Similar excuses were made for all of the food and hand-made gifts. Elik even brought him a new katana, one which the Guild had only allowed due to its lack of strength, which they allowed every new hunter. “You might be better off hunting with a stick,” he laughed. “But I’m sure you’ll be slaying elder dragons with it in no time.”

The blade itself was beautiful, crafted from a rare coral from the New World which glowed a deep blue. The coral had been mixed with machalite ore to keep it from breaking too easily, but the blade was barely as sharp as an Iron Katana. Into the hilt, the word “Nifila” had been engraved on one side and “Guardian” on the other.

As Sarah watched each person in town come to personally send him off, she couldn’t help but cry a little. She didn’t see Tyr crying though. He didn’t even look sad. He was blank. The chakra overload must’ve done so much more than she could imagine. It took all morning, even though they’d started at sunrise. And even as everyone dispersed, headed back to their homes, Sarah couldn’t help but wish that the procession never had to end. She knew Tyr would be going with her, but he could never see his home again.

The last of the people left to see him off were Nevyra, Halcon, and an older couple that Sarah had only seen a few times around town. They had been at the infirmary the first time she’d been there, and though she didn’t know it they’d been there far more often than that. She had never seen them speak to Tyr, but, then again, she’d seen Tyr so rarely that she had no idea who he’d spent most of his time with. There was something familiar in them which she only recognized when she looked back to Tyr.

His parents walked to him, neither saying a word, and they hugged him for a long time. They didn’t say anything, didn’t move from that moment in time, they just held him in their arms. How long they all stood there, Sarah didn’t know, but it could’ve never been long-enough when they both let go. Each gave him a kiss, made some small gesture with their hands that Sarah couldn’t really see, and then they walked back into Nifila and out of Tyr’s life.

A mile from the outer walls, a small contingent of black-armored men and women approached the cart, leading the princess’ carriage behind them. There were a dozen of them – her father must have heard about the Los - and their leader was a man in full Brute Tigrex armor, Orion, the Climbing Captain. “Young Princess,” he said in a warm voice. “We’re here to escort you back home.” The other cart was hard not to notice, and so was the hunter leading it. “Can I ask who your companion is?”

“His name is T…” She paused, almost forgetting that she couldn’t possibly say what she had almost said. “He is Broken,” she said, hating herself for the adjective. “Broken Man. He is a hunter who has fallen on difficult times. It is my wish that he accompany us back to Fahrenn, where he be given a chance at a new life, with the guard if he so chooses.” Her wish was their command, as always - so long as her father didn’t say anything to the contrary.

The carriage ride was not a fun one. Other people were only allowed inside the royal carriage when Sarah invited them in. Her guards could only speak to her as needed, or when spoken to. And she was expected to sit in the rainbow hues of the Plesioth scales, looking outside only to make sure they were still on course. It was desperately dull and lonely. After almost a full day of it, Sarah decided that she was going to do it her own way instead.

“T-Broken Man, how are you today?” she asked, emerging from the carriage in motion. He didn’t respond at first. So, closer, she tried again. “Tyr?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about something?”

“Like?”

“Well,” she hesitated. It hadn’t really occurred to her that she would also need a topic. He had always brought them up before. “How about hunting? You did say you had a lot of trivia.”

“Yeah. What did you want to know?”

“You said there were some monsters unique to Nifila, yes? Tell me more about them.”

“The Xiloukana,” he said in a dull monotone, “is a fearsome beast that dwells deep in the swamplands. It preys on anything that moves, even its own kin. Most creatures know better than to approach an unfamiliar mass in the slime, but there are always those unlucky hunters and beasts that end up as its next meal.”

Sarah was listening, but she found it difficult to pay attention to him. That wasn’t Tyr. That wasn’t how he spoke. It was like listening to a bad impersonation of Tyr.

“Xiloukana have mouths so large they can fit a Bulldrome inside, and jaws so powerful that they can crush that same Bulldrome in a single snap. They’re rarely seen, and seldom hunted because of their sheer might. I remember the last hunter to kill one on his own. He came from far away, seeking a challenge for his blade. I can’t remember what his name was, or where he was from. I was only seven. He went out with only his longsword and came back with teeth big enough to craft a sword from.”

“He killed it by himself? No one else helped him at all?” She hoped that this part of the story might at least excite him, might elicit some response.

But it was no use. “If someone did, I never saw them. They might have left earlier or later than he did, but, however many left, only he came back. He never said a word to me, but he helped write the ecological notes for the Xiloukana. According to them, the Xiloukana can tear down trees in its violent rages, and is intensely difficult to approach because of how it thrashes. I’ve never been able to find one, and never needed to.”

For a moment, Sarah thought she could hear his passion again, thought she could detect a little piece of who she remembered, but the blankness returned so quickly she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just her imagination. She wanted him to just feel better. She wanted him to shake his head and look at her with his eyes full of life again, to smirk, but she couldn’t really expect him to do that. She couldn’t, but she did all the same. “That’s interesting. Speaking of interesting, it seemed like the whole village was there to send you off.” It was probably a bad idea to talk about it, but she had to say something to make him feel something.

He didn’t. “Not quite. I didn’t see some of the elders or three of the Guild’s felynes. And the lookouts.”

“But… it was still most of them. And your parents were - well, at least I thought they were your parents - at the end?”

“They were.”

“They… didn’t say much.”

“More than you know.” He stumbled over a rock, but caught himself. Was it a sign of something? Or was it just a rock? Sarah wished she could tell, but there was nothing to him. No warmth, no cold, just an emptiness where a person’s aura should be. “My mother was born without a voice, and my father has refused to speak since they married. I was raised speaking one language to the village, and signing another at home.”

Sarah didn’t have to feign interest in this news. She had heard of certain people who did similar things, though usually it was for the deaf, and not the mute. It was a touching story, and Sarah tried smiling at him, but he didn’t smile back. He didn’t even acknowledge her smile with anything more than that lifeless stare. As much as she wanted to, as much of a hold as he had on her, Sarah couldn’t stand talking to such an emotionless shell, especially not after knowing what that shell had been. So, with a quiet goodbye, she went to talk to her guardsmen, and tried to forget about who Tyr used to be.

For the first time in her life, Sarah had real conversations with the men and women who had been hired for generations to protect her family and her kingdom. Not all of them felt comfortable with her at first, but most of them softened at her insistence on their informality. She was shocked to learn that Molin and Jaruk weren’t actually twins at all, just good friends who happened to look and dress very similarly. She was just as surprised to hear about how many of them had families which they were the sole providers for, and how few of them had any interest in hunting until necessity pushed them onto the path. Some of them weren’t even Hunters at all, but Knights. She’d thought that all of the Knights in the kingdom were at the castle, but it seemed a foolish thought after realizing that her family weren’t the only ones who might be targeted by someone dangerous.

Still, the majority were Hunters, and there were those few who hunted because it was their calling. These few fought for loved ones or for themselves, for their pride or for glory. Whatever their reasons, Sarah could feel the same energy from them as she’d noticed in Tyr when he spoke. If she stood close enough, she could almost feel the excitement in their chakras through her own.

The most obvious of these was the Climbing Captain, who spoke with a smile about how he loved mounting monsters. “There’s a rush to it. One you can’t get anywhere else.” His black armor gleamed in the sunlight, but Sarah also couldn’t help but feel afraid of it. Tigrex armor did that to her, for everyone. It was something in how chakras interacted with one another. But a monster’s chakra, unlike a person’s, was so much more powerful, even dead.

“Even the Tigrex?”

“Oh, right,” the Captain said, taking a step further away from the Princess. The hairs on the back of her neck laid back down. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget that not everyone lives their life in constant fear of their own armor.”

“Why is it that you would want to fear your own armor?”

“That’s… a very good question, Young Princess,” Orion scratched the back of his helmet. Could he feel it? She doubted it, but there were many mysteries of chakra and armor she didn’t understand. “The best answer I can give is that it means I’m not as afraid of whatever I’m fighting. When you’re always afraid, nothing scares you as much. Does that make sense? I probably sound like I’m crazy. Please, uhh, don’t have me fired, okay?”

“I wouldn’t!” Sarah tried to reassure him by stepping closer, and involuntarily shuddered when her chakra came back in touch with the armor’s. “What I mean to say…” she began, stepping back to a safe distance. “Is that you don’t need to worry about that with me, Climbing Captain.”

“Glad to hear it. Most of us are just normal people, after all.”

There was one, however, who wasn’t just a normal person.

He was a Wyverian with an incredibly large and razor-edged axe, and he was purely a hunter. He was small for a Wyverian of his age, lanky, quiet, and deadly by all accounts, including his own. The Death Stench armor definitely helped the image.

“To kill.”

Sarah clutched the edge of her dress in one hand. “You hunt just to kill?”

“Yes. It’s better than killing other people,” he said. “Wyverns provide a challenge.”

“You were… an assassin before you became a guard?” Everyone knew that assassins existed, but Sarah had never actually met a person who would admit to it.

“It suited me. This suits me better.” His voice was quiet and easy. If Guard of Death weren’t explaining death to her, Sarah might’ve thought him shy or nervous. “Is that all, Young Princess?”

“If I may be so bold, did you tell the Commander this? And, if so, why did she let you into the guard?”

“I’m a good hunter. The best.”

Sarah looked for a smirk, a shrug, or even a twinge of pride in his eyes. There was nothing, though not the same nothing as Tyr’s. He was quiet for his own reasons, a quiet like a mountain, or an empty field. Perhaps even a graveyard. Whichever it was, an angry roar kept Sarah’s next question in her throat.

Guard of Death drew out his axe in a slow, deliberate motion. Glistening Akura Vashimu crystals cut through the air so finely that Sarah swore there was a slight ringing to it. He said nothing, and Climbing Captain had to pull Sarah away from the frontline. A Barroth charged through the thin row of trees in the distance. They were getting close to home.

She reluctantly climbed into the carriage, but insisted the door stay open so she could watch. As strong as she’d heard a Barroth could be, it stood little chance against the power of four trained guards.

Guard of Death was certainly the most powerful among them. As the Barroth charged in towards the guardsmen, the others scattered. He stood firm, and he charged his energy through his axe before delivering a powerful blow to the side of the beast’s head, throwing the brute wyvern off course at the last moment. There was no hesitation, only a follow-through against the Barroth’s side that drew blood through the mud covering its hide. The other guards rushed in, slashing, bashing, and raining down a slew of bullets on the disoriented beast.

And no matter what his teammates did, Guard of Death pushed forwards. He didn’t seem to care what the rest of his team did, his swings often just narrowly missing them only because they managed to roll out of the way. And when they didn’t miss, Sarah started and nearly rushed out. The guardsman was fine, perfectly fine, of course. The Guild made certain that their hunters couldn’t hurt each other, even if Sarah wasn’t entirely certain how. But it was one thing to hear it, and another to see it in action. She swallowed her heart back down beneath her throat as the axe lopped off the Barroth’s tail, and then charged forwards to strike it again and again. As slow as each swing was, his timing was brilliant, and before Sarah realized the fight was winding down it was already over. Guard of Death didn’t even carve, just lit a signal torch to alert the Guild.

“He’s incredible; wouldn’t you say, Tyr?”

Tyr had watched from where he was standing, practically motionless. He hadn’t blinked once in the five minutes the fight lasted. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s an excellent fighter. His timing is near-perfect, and he knows his weapon as well as his enemy, but he’s fighting only to kill.”

“How did you know that?”

“He doesn’t carve. He doesn’t care about his allies. Someone like him will eventually be killed by the first thing to overpower him, because he has no reason to live beyond that day.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

Tyr shrugged and turned away from the door as it began to rumble along again. “A real hunter doesn’t just kill.”

“He’s doing it to protect people now. Even if he only wants to kill, that’s been given a purpose.” Sarah barely knew Guard of Death, but she did know the city guard. They didn’t deserve death for not mutilating a corpse. Even if he was a bit careless, he knew that he couldn’t hurt the other guards, and that made it okay.

“You don’t know a thing about hunting, Princess.” Tyr’s voice was sharp and cold without emotion to back it up, so much so that Sarah recoiled slightly. “Tell me that again when you’ve looked into the eyes of something with enough power to devour you a hundred times over and had to end its life, knowing it was protecting something just like you were.”

She bit back her words and her anger. It was true that she didn’t know much about hunting, and there was something about hunters like Tyr and Guard of Death that suggested they knew something which no other person could ever know. Silently, Sarah resolved to find that knowledge by becoming a hunter as well. She wouldn’t stop until she could look Tyr in the eye and tell him she’d done just as he’d said.