Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Killing Intent Hidden in the Eyes
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The forest was utterly ordinary. Being managed by the count's family, it was a peaceful woodland without even a single ferocious beast. Kyle held the reins of the horse Lenia rode, strolling along as if they were out on a leisurely tour.
"Aren't you in a hurry?"
Lenia herself sounded worried at how utterly relaxed he seemed. Kyle just smiled in response.
"Hunting isn't something you rush. By now, those guys are probably just snagging some small fry."
At that moment, the bushes rustled, and a rabbit burst out. Unable to withstand the pressure from the beaters behind it, the rabbit zigzagged frantically, darting right in front of them. Kyle offered Lenia the bow he'd brought specially for her.
"Care to give it a shot?"
"Hmm... I've never even tried before, but..."
"I'll help you with your stance."
Lenia drew back the bowstring, and Kyle corrected her form from beside the horse. In no time, she had assumed a proper archer's pose, bow at the ready.
"Aim the arrow tip at it and loose."
"Hoo..."
She steadied her breath for a moment. When she released the string, it twanged crisply, sending the arrow flying—straight into the ground, of course. The rabbit, startled even more, picked up speed, but another arrow soon pierced its neck.
"Haha! Lady Lenia! I got it for you!"
The shooter was one of the noble youths. With hair streaked blond and brown swept to the side, he dismounted laughing heartily, picked up his rabbit, and approached Lenia.
In noble hunting tournaments, there was a custom of presenting one's kill to a lady who caught one's eye. It was a way of crediting her with the honor of the hunt—and subtly signaling romantic interest.
He stood before Lenia and spoke in an overly syrupy voice.
"May I offer you this honor?"
Lenia's brow furrowed slightly. She called out to Kyle.
"Sir Lucas."
"Yes, my lady."
"Should I accept this honor?"
Kyle chuckled at her words. He knew exactly what she meant.
"Does my lady need to accept something this trivial? If I may be so bold, sir, gifting something like that to her seems the real discourtesy."
The man's face flushed red. He hurled the rabbit aside and glared at Kyle.
"Ha! How great a hunter are you that you couldn't even bother mounting up? Didn't even have a nag worthy of riding, I suppose?"
Kyle didn't respond. He quietly nocked an arrow, eyes fixed ahead. His ears picked up the sound of an animal charging through the underbrush.
'Sound... scent... a deer.'
Fortuitously, the wind was blowing their way. Frantically pursued by the beaters, the deer couldn't change course in time and bounded straight into view before Kyle and Lenia.
Spotting them late, the deer twisted sharply to veer away—but that brief instant was all Kyle needed.
Crack!
In a flash, he nocked the arrow. The thick yew bow, carved from a whole trunk, bent nearly to breaking.
"Hoo..."
A quick breath to steady. He calculated the arrow's trajectory, distance, the beast's speed and motion, direction—everything. He released. Twang! The string whipped forward like a lash, propelling the arrow. And...
Thwuck!
The shaft sliced through the air, grazing a rib, snapping it, piercing the heart within, and bursting out the other side.
Impaled, the deer convulsed once, leaped high, then collapsed into the grass, legs thrashing. Its breath was gone, but its body still twitched on instinct.
"Oh my..."
"Eek! How awful..."
The noble ladies, watching idly from horseback, let out soft cries—but their eyes gleamed with fascination at the fallen deer.
Kyle smiled at the noble fop trembling before him.
"Only something like this is worthy of offering my lady an honor, wouldn't you say?"
"Grr... Just you wait! I'll bag something bigger!"
The youth glared once more at his discarded rabbit and Kyle's deer, then mounted up and galloped off in a huff. Soon after, the ladies who'd been watching from afar rode up leisurely.
"Sir? Does that deer have an owner?"
Mindful of their dresses, they approached gingerly, clustering around Kyle while keeping Lenia at the back, chattering away.
"I do like a sturdy man..."
It was the largest beast taken in the tournament so far, and the ladies eyed it openly. Receiving the top prize marked one as the most alluring lady present.
But Kyle hoisted the deer effortlessly onto his shoulder and stood before Lenia.
"May I offer you this honor, my lady?"
Lenia's lips twitched. She feigned disinterest, but she was a woman after all. Proving herself the most captivating here was a moment of pure delight.
Of course, him being her superior played a part too—but she shoved that aside with a cleared throat, extending her hand.
"I accept this honor, Sir Lucas."
After bagging that deer, the noble ladies—stripped of their prize by Lenia—trailed doggedly behind me, perhaps hoping for scraps. Though the biggest reason was probably that all the other young lords were bombing out spectacularly.
"Arghhh!"
"Why the hell is it missing?!"
To my eyes, the targets might as well have been standing still, but they kept firing at fleeing rabbits until they tired out and chucked their bows. Then, whenever a lady glanced their way, they'd snatch up a new one and prance about on horseback like hotshots.
"That guy's the worst..."
"What family is he from?"
The ladies weren't impressed. Still, to claim first place, it was all about the big kills, so I stuck to paths where large game roamed.
No matter the tournament, beaters wouldn't drive prey too aggressively. A rampaging boar could injure the VIPs, after all.
Glancing around to ensure no eyes were on me, I pulled out my prepared bait.
"What's that?"
"Essence from a sow boar in heat. Nothing better for luring boars."
I used it often on hunts. Sold at general stores or apothecaries as a medicine too—Cutter had fetched some. When the wind shifted toward the woods, I swung it in the air...
Squeeeeal!
Soon enough, a boar charged out. The frenzy from the beaters plus the scent of a bitch in heat had it berserk.
Squeeeeal!
"Kyle!"
Startled by the sudden beast, one lady cried my name instead of title. The boar bursting from the trees was compact-car sized.
"That one's plenty."
One that size would lock in the prize money. Imagining the hefty 150-pound draw weight in my hands, I drew the bow. But...
'Killing intent.'
I sensed it from the nearby woods. A blatant flash, gone in an instant. As the brush there shook, I whipped my aim from the boar.
Shhht!
"Aaaagh!"
The arrow flew. A scream erupted from its path—the count's assassin, no doubt. Probably had backup. But I'd prepared for this.
Pweeeet!
"Assassin that way! Get him!"
"Waaah!"
I whistled and pointed; fully armed vanguard swordsmen surged out, charging the direction I'd indicated. They stormed the woods, tearing through it like a plow.
"Aaaagh!"
"You bastard! Here!"
"Whoa! He's got a blade!"
Told not to kill, the swordsmen battered the suspected assassin scabbard-first. It sounded like pummeling a leather sandbag, screams echoing from the trees.
Moments later, they dragged a pulped man before me, forcing him to his knees.
"P-pleash... mercy... f-forgive..."
An arrow in his thigh, he wore beater's roughspun—no weapons, just a busted horn in one hand. But judging by appearances in this world was folly. I grabbed his collar.
"Who are you? Why were you spying?"
He wailed, tears streaming from swollen eyes.
"Boo-hoo... J-just... huntin' big boar... th-that's all..."
Sobbing, he swore he was just a beater chasing a boar, nothing suspicious. The swordsmen stripped him to his skivvies—nothing incriminating.
"...Sorry about that. Take this for treatment."
I pressed a few silver coins into his palm. With an arrow in his thigh, a beating, and pantsed to boot, he glanced at the money, sniffled, and vanished into the woods.
No sword-calluses on his hands. No weapons.
'Then that killing intent...'
I scanned the woods slowly. Nothing else happened.
"Haha! I got this one..."
Returning with my final kill and the ladies, the boasting nobles fell silent at the sight.
"Good lord... a deer that huge."
It was mid-size-car proportions—the biggest I'd taken, even accounting for beater scent. The lord's woods bred thick stock, sure.
Thud!
The massive antlers hit the dirt. My arrow jutted from the heart of what had once terrorized these woods. A servant, gaping wide-eyed between deer and me, spoke hesitantly.
"S-Sir... your name...?"
"Baron Lucas Kyle. Deer weight?"
"One moment, milord! I'll fetch the scales at once!"
Three grunting servants hauled it to the scales. Cheers erupted with each added weight. Meanwhile, I spotted the rabbit-lord sulking over his lone bunny and waved.
"Well, if it isn't the Rabbit Baron?"
"Hmph..."
Recognizing me, his face hardened—likely grasping my jab.
"Said you'd bag bigger... how'd that go?"
"......"
Strikeout, huh. I patted his wilted shoulder with a grin.
"Kidding. A rabbit's fine work. Need anything? Antler maybe?"
"......"
Unable to take the ribbing, he fled. I'd have given him a real one to brag about at home.
"750 pounds (340kg)! Baron Lucas Kyle takes the lead!"
My prior topper—a measly 300-pound boar given to a lady—weighed 500 after verification, dropping it to third. No one topped our record by tournament's end.
"You..."
The prize presenter was the host himself, Count Sarisa. His face soured as he handed over the purse.
"My thanks for the favor, Count Sarisa. I'll put it to good use."
In that instant, I caught the regret flickering in his eyes. Not for the coin—for the killing intent laced within.
Something had been afoot, clearly. It hadn't panned out, but still. I watched his retreating back in silence as he departed after the award.