Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: The Hunting Festival
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It was a fine day. The sun shone brightly, with a few large clouds drifting by to cast fleeting shadows whenever the light grew too intense.
A pleasantly cool breeze blew from deep within the forest outward, perfect for hunting dogs to pick up scents and give chase.
In short, it was an ideal day for a hunt.
“Wouldn’t it actually be better if they switched it to a hunting festival?”
A noble lady holding a flat fan pressed from white flowers spoke up, and the boy holding her parasol in her stead replied.
They were a group of lower nobles who had arrived early, ahead of the appointed time, and were already filling the meeting spot.
“You’re right. But have you heard the news? About why the tea leaves got ruined this time.”
“Oh, I did. Apparently, a new merchant caravan run by beastkin showed up in Chabid, and all the local specialty goods got diverted to them.”
A surprised exclamation rose at the response to the boy’s question.
“Beastkin formed a merchant caravan? Goodness... who would even trade with something like that?”
“Rumor has it the Kruger family is backing them fully...”
Someone clicked their tongue. That house had no restraint when it came to money.
Most of the nobles gathered here had some connection to the Kruger family, large or small—owing them favors, or at least having taken out loans.
Perhaps because of that, or maybe due to the family’s reputation, the conversation dragged on, painting them as a clan obsessed solely with wealth.
“But how does a beastkin caravan snapping up supply have anything to do with the tea leaves getting damp?”
“From what I heard, since the beastkin caravan isn’t handling tea leaves, the human caravans had to seek out longer supply routes.”
“...So, to get fresh Chabid tea leaves from now on, we’d have to deal with beastkin? Ugh, no thank you!”
Someone let out a playful shriek like they’d spotted a bug, and everyone else joined in with laughter.
After a good long bout of rowdy chuckles, someone spoke up as if a thought had just struck them.
“By the way, I heard the Kruger family seal was on the list of RSVPs for today’s invitation.”
“Goodness. Is Lady Gadia coming?”
“Really? Drinking tea with her has always been my dream!”
At the news that someone from the Kruger family would attend, ladies hurriedly pulled out mirrors while men straightened their attire. The nobleman who had brought it up gave an awkward smile.
“Apparently, it’s the younger sibling.”
“Oh.”
“Hmm.”
Hands that had been fussing with mirrors or hair slowed to a halt, then passed the items to the guards-cum-attendants standing nearby.
“Weren’t these gatherings usually just for academy students?”
“That’s why they were pointless half the time—nobles visiting the capital from abroad or heirs not attending the academy for various reasons couldn’t join.”
Everyone’s faces soured at that. Even for nobles, openly living dissolutely was a stain on the family name.
So, they’d throw masked balls and such to hide their faces and indulge discreetly.
The so-called profligate antics were similar. The higher the status, the easier the cleanup, so scandals rarely leaked. Yet Adelian Kruger reveled in his openly, flaunting them.
The notorious wastrel of one of the empire’s few grand ducal houses. And even after coming of age, no word of his Trait.
That meant a thoroughly mediocre talent.
If it had been a dazzling Trait, he’d have boasted about it or spun it into something decent to spread rumors. The opposite suggested otherwise.
‘A fallen scion, cut loose.’
‘Gadia will likely be the next head of House Kruger.’
A wastrel the family no longer bothered with. Blessed with the mighty Kruger bloodline, yet amounting to nothing.
So when word spread that such an Adelian was coming, the mood deflated, turning indifferent. Someone forced a laugh to liven things up.
“Still... in looks alone, he’s Lady Gadia’s blood kin.”
“Well, the rest only matters up close. As long as it’s a feast for the eyes, that’s fine.”
The chatter continued for a while like that. The crowd gradually grew until Sabrina of Count Avril’s house—the host of the hunt—arrived, arm in arm with a girl who had her thick sapphire hair cut short to bare her nape.
“We greet Princess Peya.”
“We greet the Princess.”
“Thank you for inviting me, Sabrina.”
“You look radiant as ever today, Sabrina.”
Perhaps because the tea party had been swapped for a hunt, Sabrina wore riding breeches instead of a dress. People swarmed around her and Princess Peya.
Sabrina smirked, clearly enjoying the attention, while Peya looked away indifferently.
“Thank you all for coming. It’s a shame about the tea party—we’ll do that next time—but let’s have fun with something different today.”
Sabrina shook a cute little fist at chest height with her free hand, drawing haha-ho-ho laughter from the crowd.
“We’ll release various animals into the forest. You don’t have to kill them—just hit them with arrows to score points.”
As Sabrina explained the hunt’s rules, Princess Peya stifled a small yawn and subtly twisted as if to slip away.
Sabrina clamped down on the princess’s arm with a laugh and opened her mouth again—only for every gaze to shift from the pair to something behind them.
“Plus, there’s one type of monster? What are you all staring at?”
Sabrina whipped her head around. Someone was approaching.
Golden hair that seemed to crumble at the touch of light, blue eyes. Handsome features overshadowed by an arrogance surpassing even royalty, and twisted lips.
Trailing him were his guard-attendant: one man so ugly it bordered on grotesque, and another better-looking but still far from handsome.
A thought flashed through everyone’s minds.
*He keeps around people uglier than himself.*
“Am I late?”
A slick tone. A pleasant voice, yet laced with an air of condescension.
As most gazes turned displeased, the blond man—Adelian—chuckled.
“What? Too handsome for you?”
* * *
Toss out one joke, and look at the vibe.
Kids these days have no manners. Can’t even fake a polite laugh.
The reason’s obvious, but who cares. I’ve got other business today anyway.
I slowly scanned the gathered kids.
[Peya von Taiteria—9th Princess]
Representative Traits: [Flame (C)] [Compassion (B)]
Hidden Traits: [Pyromania (C)] [Beauty (D)]
Sealed Traits: [Blue Flame (SS)] [Mana (B)]
Princess confirmed.
[Shaka—Puppet of the Evil God Cult]
Potion user confirmed.
A girl with sand-colored hair and blue eyes lurked at the crowd’s edge, whispering in conversations, gauging reactions.
Looks like she’s chugged so many potions she thinks she’s the real deal.
*Hunting festival, after all.*
Someone might get hurt.
Right?
“You arrive late, yet make such a bold entrance. Fitting for House Kruger.”
A softly smiling voice. But that was sarcasm, plain and simple.
I tilted my head with a grin and met Sabrina’s eyes.
“Exactly. That’s the level I’m at.”
A low murmur of awe rippled around at my laughing reply. Sabrina’s cheeks flushed—whether from anger or something else.
“The Princess arrived first, you know?”
“Didn’t they say academy students are treated as equals, regardless of status?”
I don’t attend the academy, so I’m a grand duke’s heir.
They do, so they’re all equal academy students.
Thus, implicitly, only I have status. I played along childishly, and Sabrina’s lips quivered as she snapped her head away.
“Then those joining the hunt, mount up and head into the forest for some fun. The rest of you, we’ve got good tea—Chabid leaves, sadly not—but chat over that.”
Ignoring me deliberately? Everyone else scattered in cheerful groups of threes and fives.
I watched Princess Peya being led by the hand toward the horses.
Short blue hair, expressionless face.
But different from Leaf or Gadia.
Leaf had a doll-like inorganic quality; Gadia, icy coldness. Peya felt calmly ocean-like... blankly so.
The intel compiled on imperial rumors called her cold and curt.
*But to eyes used to Leaf and Gadia, she doesn’t seem that way?*
Just severe shyness, maybe.
I weighed Peya and Shaka—my final candidates—in my mind as I walked to the horses.
“Signal me later, got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
At the horse station, there was my Toma, Kane’s Arishnel, and Zero’s Krest—a wild-caught gray stallion.
Toma and Arishnel were warhorses; Krest, from Chabid’s wilds. All towered over the others, heads a full length higher.
A few onlookers gawked.
“This one’s got a real sweet temper. See? Even if you sneak behind suddenly, no kick.”
“You’ll get trampled and die.”
“That’s a Chabid wild horse, right? Gray with that natural fade from root to tip, white speckles only there—insane. Can’t even buy one like this!”
A horse nut in the crowd.
“And that one’s wild too. Seems spirited, but when I got loud, it flicked a look and shifted aside? Watch—tries to approach, and it backs up!”
A boy squealing joyfully in front of Arishnel. Round oversized glasses, compact features.
Looks young; using user-sight would be a waste, so better snag the attendee list later and check Traits.
Who knows. Might find Aria’s understudy.
“You must all use the same bows and arrows for this hunt. Guards catching prey won’t count for points.”
“Got it.”
I nodded curtly to the servant handing over the bow and quiver, took them, and headed to the horses.
“Uh... uh oh.”
I scratched Toma’s brown coat, mounted slowly. The gawkers recognized me and backed away, then bolted.
“Hey, it’s the wastrel’s horse.”
“No wonder it’s prime. Even Kruger’s throwaways are top-tier.”
I can hear you idiots.
“...Why does everyone talk about you like that, young master?”
“Cause I’m a wastrel? Get used to it, Zero.”
No plans to fix this image.
Grinning mischievously, I slung the quiver on the saddle, took the reins. Toma ambled toward the forest where others had gone.
“But... you can even shoot a bow?”
Kane’s words reminded me of the labyrinth city—how he’d skipped it, claiming no confidence with crossbows even. I shrugged.
“Learned the basics from Deputy Captain Mark.”
Kane’s craggy face crumpled further.
Ugh, knowing his real face makes this unbearable.
Chuckling, I urged my horse deeper into the woods. Kids’ shouts and squeals echoed from ahead.
“Get it! Loose the arrow!”
“Close miss. Ah, can’t catch that one.”
Dozens of arrows whistled; embedding in ground or trees, servants in leather armor and helmets darted out to retrieve.
“Rabbit—one point!”
“Where’s the deer? That’s high score.”
Spaced-out trees and open space let me see and hear far.
I nocked an arrow, drew to my ear, aimed at a grazing rabbit in the corner.
And.
“Ow!”
“Huh?”
I’d calculated angle, wind, arc perfectly.
Why’d it hit someone else’s ass?
“What the hell?!”
Not deep—the man yanked the arrow free, face purple, charging my way on horseback.
I gripped a potion, ignoring the sigh from behind.