Despite the sub-freezing temperatures, Relam and Oreius continued to drill outside. There just wasn’t space to do it inside and, as Oreius pointed out constantly, Relam could find himself fighting battles in far worse conditions. Best to get some practice in while he could.
The week transitioned into the weekend with little change in the weather. Relam and his father holed up together in the royal suite, huddling by the fire, having servants bring more wood constantly. Relam would have felt bad about sending others out in the cold to do his work, but he knew that the wood was fetched from a massive firewood pile just inside the palace, in a room adjacent to the kitchens.
During this time, there was also no mention of Narin. Relam heard nothing from commander Hadere about the situation, and Narin himself gave Relam updates on the search each time the prince went to Oreius’ house. The former commander was still on house arrest, under Oreius’ careful watch, and itching to be outside again, walking the dangerous streets and hunting for murderers. But it was just too risky, and he was forced to stay inside.
As the next week began, a cautious excitement stole over the city. The Harvest Hunt and celebration were scheduled for the third day of the week, and the weather had improved enough to allow people to believe the festivities would go forward as planned. Oreius, in a surprisingly generous gesture, told Relam after practice on the first day of the week that he could take the next three days off.
The news was most welcome to Relam, who had given little thought to his strategy for the hunt. Each year, the king and the future king set off into the Midwood at dawn to hunt. Whoever returned with the more impressive prize won the event. There was no shame in losing, but if Relam were to beat his father, a veteran and accomplished hunter, it would be bragging rights for a full twelve months.
Of course, Relam and his father would not be going into the woods alone. They would have guards with them, two apiece. Relam had already selected Galen and Wil to accompany him. Eric was too protective and serious for such an adventure, and the prince was not willing to risk Johann blundering and spooking a prize deer or boar.
At last, the appointed day came. Relam, his father, and their two guards each lined up at the open west gate of Etares, waiting for the signal to begin. A reserve group of guards, some thirty strong, had been assigned to patrol the road through the forest in case the prince or king should run into trouble during the hunt. Eckle was in command of the reserve force, an arrangement Relam found highly unsatisfactory.
All around the official party were the people of Etares, young and old, rich and poor. Hundreds had showed up on the brisk morning to wish the hunters well and see them off. Relam knew that thousands would gather by evening to welcome them home and judge the results of the hunt.
Relam scanned the crowd, wondering if Oreius had showed up to see the spectacle. The old man was an early riser, after all. But there was no sign of the sword master. Relam reasoned that he was probably occupied keeping Narin from running the streets, so he refocused on the hunt ahead.
A couple of minutes before the sun was due to rise, a herald with a glittering brass horn climbed the steps to the wall above the west gate. An expectant hush fell over the crowd as they watched, waiting for the signal to begin. Relam leaned forward eagerly, rubbing his horse’s muscled neck.
“We can do this,” he murmured. “This year is ours.”
“Well, maybe,” Wil interjected from where he sat astride his own horse. “Most of this event is luck, really.”
Relam glared at the affable guard and straightened haughtily, looking up at the herald. The man raised the horn to his lips and waited, eyes fixed on the east. Relam and his father did not turn to watch the horizon. They did not need to see the sunrise. They just needed to hear the Herald’s horn.
Then, a shattering blast on the horn split the still morning and the hunt was on!
A cheer rose from hundreds of throats as Relam and his father urged their horses into a gallop, careening off towards the distant woods, frosted and glittering with ice, though some of the snow had melted. As he rode, Relam began analyzing the situation. Visibility would be better, with all the leaves having fallen already, and the snow would help to muffle sounds. But there would be less cover to use as they approached a target, and there was a much higher chance of being seen. Relam glanced down at his right knee, which helped secure four throwing spears to his saddle. The throwing spears were light, with barbed heads meant to penetrate and stick. They were also the only approved weapon for the hunt. Otherwise, Relam would have selected a bow for the extra range and easier shot. No other weapons were allowed, outside of the spears. The guards were fully armed of course, but they were not present to take part in the hunt itself. They were present to be sure the hunters were not hunted by something more sinister than a wild animal.
As they approached the forest, Relam’s father veered off to the left, abandoning the road
