The Empire's Envoys Arrive
"A saber-tooth's appeared?"
"It's winter, Your Highness. Looks like the saber-tooth came down from the mountains with no prey left up there."
"Guess it's time for a hunt after all this while."
That was Bildo's report from a few days back.
After we tunneled through the mountains and paved the roads, saber-tooths occasionally ventured down from the peaks. With their two massive fangs jutting out prominently, they bore a striking resemblance to tigers. If tigers were called kings of the mountains, then saber-tooths could easily claim the title of grand dukes, just like me.
"Fine weather today. Perfect for saber-tooth hunting, eh?"
"Indeed, Your Highness."
James de Wintergard had volunteered to lead the drive.
We set up camp quite a distance from Winter Castle, past several villages. It wasn't some full-scale military operation, of course—just James, Bildo, a bunch of my guards, and Daniela.
Normally, she should've stayed back at the castle handling affairs, but Bildo had persuaded her to join. Sure, no one could fully replace me as grand duke, and we could frame it as training to acclimate her to the North's harsh weather. If anything urgent came up, word would reach us from Winter Castle.
"Not too cold?"
"This is manageable, Grand Duke."
"Should've packed more clothes."
"No, really."
We were riding black horses toward the saber-tooth's location. I was fine with her tagging along for the hunt, but bringing Daniela? Saber-tooths could charge out of nowhere. I'd warned her it was dangerous, but it fell on deaf ears. If anything, she insisted on seeing one up close—what they looked like from books, how huge and terrifying they really were.
"Horse treating you okay?"
"I've been practicing riding steadily. No need to worry."
"Northern horses are all wild beasts."
Northern horses were rougher than their southern counterparts—harder to handle. The farther north you went, the smaller they got, but they could gallop for longer stretches. Sturdy, you might say. Yet for a southerner, Daniela managed hers masterfully.
"As expected of the Grand Duchess-to-be. Northern horses aren't easy even for the men."
"No, Lord Bildo. This one's just unusually gentle."
"Hahaha! Maybe it senses the wolf in you and knows to behave! Hahaha!"
Bildo's teasing.
We waited for the saber-tooth. The method was straightforward. Skilled hunters or villagers scouted its position first. Once it stirred, drivers herded it out from the mountains. Riders then hemmed it in from all sides on horseback, funneling it down a single path. A volley of arrows, and the hunt was over.
Solo kills were tough, but in a group, they dropped fast. Saber-tooths stuck to the mountains and rarely attacked humans, so we left them be unless they came down. But winter ones, starved for prey, sometimes raided villages below.
"Saber-tooth incoming!"
A villager bellowed the warning. We'd come up empty the day before yesterday, but today it finally burst out from the slopes.
It charged from afar, fangs glinting sharply, forepaws as thick as a man's torso. It scanned its surroundings, seeking an escape, but the encircling horses boxed it in.
"Fetch my bow and arrows."
"Will Your Highness take the field yourself?"
"It's more agitated than expected. Better end it quick before it gets dangerous."
I urged my horse forward slowly. Daniela hung back a bit, following. Bow and arrows in hand, I closed in as the horses circled, blocking its paths. But the saber-tooth was smarter than it looked. It suddenly leaped, slamming into a mounted soldier. As the horse toppled, it bolted.
"Your Highness! Danger!"
"Block its path!"
It barreled straight toward me—clearly seeing that as its way out. My guards and James spurred their mounts frantically. An arrow already protruded from its flank; someone had wounded it earlier. Its eyes burned red with fury, fully enraged. It didn't slow, zeroing in like it planned to barrel through me on horseback to break free.
I nocked an arrow, drawing the string taut. One shot. I waited for it to leap. A glancing hit meant death—no room for error. Aim true, right for the nose.
"Watch out, Grand Duke!"
Daniela's scream pierced the air as the beast launched itself. Jaws gaping, it flew—and I released.
The arrow streaked straight. Not quite the nose, but dead into its maw.
Thwack!
It died mid-air, arrow lodged deep. Timing was perfect, but momentum carried it onward, crashing into me. No force behind the impact, just raw mass slamming home.
"Grand Duke!"
"Your Highness!"
My horse whinnied shrilly and buckled. Luckily, I didn't fully fall— the saber-tooth cushioned my drop.
The crowd rushed in, chaos erupting.
"Grand Duke!"
Daniela dismounted in a hurry, dashing to my side. I rose slowly. Nothing broken or torn—just my wrists and ankles throbbing.
But we'd bagged it. Good enough.
"Your Highness! Are you all right?!"
"Yeah, fine. Horse just spooked when it lunged."
I inspected my saber-tooth cushion. Enormous. Patchy white fur suggested an old one.
Villagers and guards swarmed, checking me over, but I waved them off repeatedly. "I'm good."
"You okay, Daniela?"
"G-Grand Duke!"
Suddenly, she flung herself into my arms. She'd been terrified. These surprises happened in saber-tooth hunts—smart ones leaped for escape. But it was her first time witnessing one.
I gently wrapped my arms around her back.
"I'm fine. You were scared, huh?"
"I-I thought something awful had happened."
"All good. Everything's fine."
The saber-tooth was dead; we'd skin it later. Daniela sighed deeply against me, her heartbeat pulsing warmly.
This feels nice.
"H-Hear ye. An envoy and letter bearing His Imperial Majesty's will shall accompany you north."
With the eunuch's words, someone stepped forward before Jackson and Leroy. Leroy sat bound, but Jackson got a clear look at the man's face. Not a good one. He matched the eunuch who'd claimed to speak for the emperor perfectly.
Lose a bit of weight, and it'd be spot on.
"I am Muller, dispatched as envoy to the North by His Majesty's command. Lord Jackson, a pleasure."
"Is that truly necessary? Just hand it over to me."
Jackson tried politely to ditch the envoy, but the eunuch shook his head. The emperor had decided; no changing it, he repeated.
In the end, they headed north with Muller in tow. The southern delegation ballooned in size—while the North sent just five, this imperial group numbered nearly a hundred.
"First, punishment for Leroy de Wintergard. Before departing north, seven lashes!"
"Lashest? Punishing an envoy who conveyed the Grand Duke's will like this?!"
"Isn't that imperial law? He should've been flogged publicly in the palace—that's what a yokel like him deserves."
"Such insolence...!"
Leroy stopped Jackson. Seven lashes was light, really. He'd smashed an imperial guard and stormed the palace with an axe—death was fair game, no complaints there.
The whipping happened that day. No delays; Leroy stripped off his tunic and sat between two posts. "Get on with it. I won't budge."
Normally tied up, he sat defiantly instead. Each lash drew red welts, but he never cried out—shouldering into each one, urging harder strikes.
After seven, minimal treatment, and he rejoined the northward march.
That evening, at a midway inn, Jackson visited Leroy. He rose from his wounds, but Jackson waved him down—treatment first.
Jackson sat on the bed.
"Best report this straightaway?"
"Yeah. Unexpected, but the Grand Duke's mission's done."
Time to hand it off to His Highness.