The Way of the Beast
***
On a cold night at the end of a long winter season, the household staff of the Oma-Vaust manor was busy. A small gathering was underway, and the lord of the manor had demanded that his guests from nearby Vallo be treated like royalty. More candles than could be counted were lit, all of the fireplaces were stoked, the steeds and carriages of the guests were cared for, and a trio of musicians played soft tunes in a cramped space adjoining the occupied banquet room.
Lord Nollinhelt Vaust was satisfied, both with the service and the company he kept that evening. He sat at the head of his long dining table, which was crowded with aromatic platters of food and etched glass goblets filled and refilled with the best Vallo wines. Seated around the table, enjoying the variety of foods and conversations, were some important people to keep on good terms with. The gathering was called as a celebration for Nollinhelt's niece, but, as a clever merchant, Lord Vaust knew to make the most of any situation.
Seated along the table to Nollinhelt's left were two dignitaries and an advisor of the King's court. Beyond them at the far left end sat Eggar, the chief trade emissary of the Vaust transport enterprise and the most respected employee of the manor.
Sitting opposite Nollinhelt at the far end of the table was his young, blissfully ignorant wife. He married Lyani for her beauty, her breasts, and her submissive nature. She was naively unaware that her life was in danger from not yet giving him a son and heir.
Whereas the left side of the dining table was lined with influential men, the guests to the right would've best been described as dangerous. They were representatives of powers soon to be reckoned with in Kaldevarr, Nollinhelt was sure.
Furthest to the right was senior Triad cleric Vonngar Pokk, second to the high priest of Vallo and appointed scribe to the religion's inner circle. The outspoken zealot had been preaching words of caution as of late while gathering a fanatical militia for some heathen agenda. Nollinhelt was aware that some of the boatmen in his employ were superstitious and still prayed to the old gods, so he wondered how far Pokk was going to push the so-called holy endeavor.
Then sat three Makers - Rhone Shade-smith, Kauldur Night-heart, and of course Nollinhelt's only and beloved niece, Oradna. The party was for her being named and recognized by the Maker's council just the day before. 'Hammer-touch' was the moniker given to his niece - Maker Oradna Hammer-touch. Considering her specific arcane abilities, the name was apt.
Maker Shade-smith, a slender and sly man with a long chin beard, was well known by the Kalde royalty and the King's guards. He was a Maker of vivid illusions, and used his phantom creations as needed or as a lark. He was at one time the entertainer of the King's grand feasts, but no longer. Rumors began that Rhone was using his arts to impersonate various officials and nobility to beguile and bed ladies of the castle, including the King's daughter.
Next to Maker Shade-smith was his longtime friend, Kauldur. Maker Night-heart had visited the Oma-Vaust estate a number of times while accompanying Oradna. His chiseled face and intense predator's gaze were alarming at first, but he and Nollinhelt soon found they shared the same opinions on many topics. He was delighted that the ambitious Maker had taken interest in his niece, the only family he had left.
To many folks, Oradna may have seemed arrogant and aloof. Nollinhelt, however, saw her from the eyes of a proud uncle. She was unique and willful, decisive in her choices. True, she was an acquired taste, and her destructive arts did not have much practical use - other than sinking his competitor's boats for him - but Makers were a rare breed and held in high esteem simply by title. She now had reason to be feared, which, in his opinion, was just as good as respect.
Nollinhelt's brother would've been honored by what his daughter had ascended to, if only he was alive to see it. Then again, he sometimes wondered, what would've become of Oradna if her greedy, conniving parents still lived? Even after so many years, Nollinhelt never once felt remorse for killing them.
His reverie ended when Oradna spoke to him. "I never gave proper thanks for the fine gelding, Uncle," she said loud enough to be heard through the chatter at the table.
He patted her hand. "I wanted to ensure that your riding lessons weren't wasted."
"I'll see to it, Noll," Kauldur interjected. "At the next opportunity, we will -"
Rhone tapped Kauldur's arm and softly said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might take interest in the story that emissary Eggar is telling to Lady Vaust."
Noll overheard and peered down the table. "A story, is it? Then if you please, good Eggar, regale us all," he requested.
"Ah, yes, of course, milord. As I was telling your wife, it seems there was quite the dramatic and amazing instance up north in the village of Duuvinhal not long ago..."
Eggar went on to tell a story relayed by one of the travelling traders who worked for Lord Vaust under the emissary's direction. The trader swore his tale to be the truth, for however much weight the word of a haggler carried. Eggar first described the village's constant trouble with wolves, although not the common variety. Den wolves were larger than the norm. Packs were cunning, aggressive, and did not fear men. Duuvinhal continued to lose livestock and the occasional villager to them.
Then a young hunter came along, barely of age to court for marriage. He hoped to replace his meager gear and weapons with metal ones, and so struck a bargain with the village elder. Given five days, the hunter had to bring back proof of one dozen dead wolves.
Eggar reminded the other guests that the setting was in deep cold and heavy snows, and that the young hunter ventured out alone with a few stone-tipped arrows and a bone knife. None of the villagers expected to see him again, especially since groups of seasoned woodsmen had trekked out in the past for the same attempt. All of them failed, some horribly.
Only three days after the bargain was struck, the hunter returned from the dangerous Den Forest. Deep gashes had nearly blinded one of his eyes, teeth and broken claws were still lodged in his flesh, and two of his fingers had been bitten off. He merely smiled through the blood and the pain. The young man strode into Duuvinhal village with a full score of wolf heads and pelts, dragging them through the snow by ropes fashioned from the beast's own guts.
The elder was elated, and the villagers were awed. They wanted to celebrate the hunter's deed for saving them from further attacks, but he wanted no accolades. He collected his winnings and drifted off into the market crowd. The trader lost sight of him soon after.
"That was quite the incredible account, to say the least!" Noll exclaimed. Other opinions around the table differed. Noll's wife was giddy with the idea of a fearless battle-torn hero defying improbable odds. The court dignitaries murmured that such a feat was hardly believable. Cleric Pokk added that the story must have been exaggerated, and the trader had therefore lied to his superiors. Oradna rolled her eyes.
"All lies have a basis of truth," Kauldur said thoughtfully. "But as you stated, Noll, the tale was indeed incredible. And suspicious," he added somberly.
"Suspicious?" Noll asked, confused.
Kauldur nodded. "The implication of deeds performed that are beyond the capabilities of most men is the providence of my office, and accounts such as this deserve my attention." Turning his gaze to emissary Eggar, he asked, "Where is this trader now? I would have a word with him."
Suddenly the focus of the Maker's intense and unwavering stare, Eggar fumbled his response. "He is, uh... That is, I - I've sent him out to Palonin, as I normally do this time of year."
"Hmm," Kauldur grumbled. "And where is this Duuvinhal located?"
"It is up on the North trail, less than two days west of a pair of low peaks they call the Sisters."
Kauldur turned once more to Noll and said, "Plans have changed. I will depart for Duuvinhal in the morn with a retinue of men-at-arms. Your inimitable niece may rejuvenate her equestrian lessons sooner than scheduled, should she choose to accompany me."
"Of course I will, Inquisitor," Oradna answered with a suggestive smirk.
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Ignoring her demurely wanton expression, Kauldur looked to his right. "And you, of course, Rhone," he said. "Your guile and perception may prove invaluable in my questioning of the northern peasants." Maker Shade-smith smiled at the offer and nodded his head in assent.
Returning his attention to the feast with a renewed appetite, Kauldur thought of the journey ahead while he piled a variety of foods onto his plate. His voracious hunger reflected his eagerness to begin; to satisfy his cravings and find the truth behind the story of the uncanny hunter. And then conquer him.