How to Become a Hunter (3)
"Still, Catherine, that man is..."
"Worry not, Your Highness."
Catherine held up an open palm before the young prince's anxious face, her eyes alight with unshakeable resolve.
"I may not look it, but back in my hometown, they called me the 'Hunter.'"
"A-A hunter?"
"Indeed, and an exceptionally skilled one at that. Once I set my sights upon my quarry, it never escapes." Her expression grew solemn as she made a vow before the prince. "Just you wait and see. I will make that man mine, no matter what!"
"Y-Yeah... of course."
The blazing fervor of a woman of prime marriageable age was far too overwhelming for a tender prince who had yet to experience even the faintest flutter of first love.
"W-Well then, I'll be rooting for you too."
"Lia too! Lia cheers for Cath'rin too!"
Faced with such terrifying determination, all Edwin and his little sister could do was offer their quiet, heartfelt blessings to the head maid.
"Prince Edwin, is it true you're participating in the hunting competition?"
On the eve of the imperial hunting competition, Edwin was taking part in the Gloria Knights' morning drills as usual. The moment one knight posed the question, others quickly chimed in.
"Tomorrow's contest? I heard our Commander is joining as well."
"Naturally, the Commander would attend. Every prominent noble in the empire is expected to take part."
"What brought this on? Those heavy-bottomed high-and-mighties rarely move an inch."
"Isn't it because His Majesty decreed that all the imperial princes must participate?"
"Then plenty of noble ladies will be attending too, won't they?"
"The bastards in the Second Order were raising a huge fuss about entering, too. Damned if I'm not jealous."
"Doesn't matter to me. I've got Lady Veil on my mind!"
"Don't make me laugh! As if Lady Veil would spare a single glance for a wretch like you!"
"What was that? You turkey-crested twat!"
"That's a real roundabout way of calling me an ugly prick, isn't it? Want me to put you in the dirt?"
Listening to the knights bicker back and forth, Edwin could only offer a sheepish, awkward smile. Mingling and conversing amidst such boisterous crowds still felt difficult for him.
How long had they run amidst that noisy, cheerful banter? Before they knew it, they had descended from the mountain trail.
"Your Highness."
As Edwin paused to catch his breath, someone approached him. It was Philip Meyer, the Vice Commander.
"Sir Philip?"
"I understand you will be taking part in tomorrow's hunting competition," Philip inquired in his customary dry, disciplined cadence.
"Ah, yes. That's right."
"Your Highness? Why are you avoiding my gaze?"
"Huh? N-No, I wasn't doing that at all!" Edwin blurted out, startled, hastily turning his eyes back toward the knight.
Was I really being that obvious? Whenever Edwin looked at Philip, Catherine's earnest declaration involuntarily sprang to mind, leaving him feeling terribly flustered. I can't help it! How am I supposed to ignore it?
Knowing that the man Catherine harbored feelings for was Sir Philip made everything feel hopelessly awkward, slightly embarrassing, and at the same time utterly fascinating. To Edwin, romantic affection between a man and a woman was still a concept from another world entirely.
"Is that so? Then I must have been mistaken," Philip replied, brushing the matter aside without pressing further. "By the by, I heard Your Highness has no personal escort knight. Have you secured an attendant to accompany you during the competition?"
"Ah, Rachel decided to come with me!"
At the mention of the nanny's name, Philip's brow furrowed faintly. "Rachel... You refer to Your Highness's nanny?"
"Yes! Rachel is a far better archer than I am!"
"...She is skilled with a bow?"
"Mhm. Rachel is of noble birth, after all. She told me she learned archery in the past."
Philip recalled the first day he had laid eyes on the Third Prince's nanny. Outwardly, she seemed like an ordinary woman with nothing particularly remarkable about her. Yet there was something inexplicable about her demeanor—a subtle, unnerving composure that made it impossible for him to lower his guard.
Why in the world does a woman like that carry the faint aura of a predator? It truly defied comprehension.
The prince's clear voice broke Philip out of his contemplation.
"So Rachel will be accompanying me as my attendant."
"Ahem. I see." Philip cleared his throat before continuing, "Had you lacked someone, I intended to assign an apprentice knight to your side."
"To me? Why?"
"It was the Commander's instruction. He noted that if Your Highness were seen roaming the grounds without a single attendant, it would poorly reflect upon the imperial family's dignity."
Sir Jerome said that? Edwin's eyes widened in surprise. What does this mean? I thought he had come to dislike me.
The prince recalled their conversation the day he had spoken with Jerome alone in the office. Just then, Philip addressed him once more.
"Your Highness, you should retire early for today."
"Eh? Why?"
"You must compete tomorrow, must you not? It would be wise to rest your body today."
"Still, I..."
Edwin feared that if he skipped training for even a single day, he might regress into his former, powerless self—the pathetic boy who could do nothing before a demonic creature or in the presence of the Second Empress.
Sensing Edwin's hesitation, Philip spoke again. "If you are truly insistent, would you care to practice your marksmanship instead of regular training?"
"Really? May I?"
"The competition is tomorrow, so I shall make an exception." Philip's eyes dropped toward the bow Edwin carried by his side lately like an extension of his own body. "You possess quite an exceptional bow. Did you acquire it specifically for the hunting competition?"
"No, this was a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes. His Majesty the King of Adamant sent it to me as a get-well present when I was injured."
The King of Adamant? Philip's eyes widened fractionally before returning to their usual composed state. "Is that so?"
A faint trace of concern clouded the Vice Commander's eyes. "Your Highness."
"Yes?"
"Should anyone inquire about the materials used to craft that bow, tell them it was fashioned from treated iron and mithril."
Edwin tilted his head at the completely unexpected instruction. It had never once crossed his mind to wonder what the bow gifted by the King of Adamant was actually made of.
"Is it really made of iron and mithril?"
"No. However, should anyone ask, that is precisely what you must say. Furthermore, do not mention that it was a gift. Say that it is an old heirloom that has resided in the Third Prince's Palace for many years." Philip's voice took on a deeply solemn weight. "It is for your own protection, Your Highness."
"A-Alright, I understand." Edwin nodded, bewildered by the gravity in the knight's words.
"Then let us proceed."
Only after hearing the prince's assent did Philip's expression relax slightly, as if relieved. He pointed toward the rear of the training grounds.
"If you round that corner, you will find an archery range. Practice arrows have already been prepared, so—"
"Ah, thank you, Sir Philip!"
Before the Vice Commander could even finish his sentence, Edwin dashed away like a streak of wind.
"..." Philip stared dumbfoundedly at the empty spot where the prince had just been standing.
Watching the scene unfold, the nearby knights snickered amongst themselves.
"Prince Edwin's probably the only person alive who could run off right in the middle of the Vice Commander's lecture, don't you think?"
"Well, there is one other person. Speaking of which, the guest who arrived at the quarters today..."
Just as their gossip began to drift into dangerous territory, an icy wave of killing intent rolled off Philip.
"I trust none of you have the leisure to sit around idling like this?"
At the Vice Commander's thunderous reprimand, the knights scrambled into motion in an instant.
"H-Heep! We're on it!"
"Don't be angry, Vice Commander!"
"Look at us, we're training our hearts out!"
"Hup, two! Hup, two!"
They swiftly fell into formation and began scaling the training ladders with frantic energy. Watching his subordinates feign innocent diligence as if nothing had happened, Philip could only let out a long, weary sigh.
"Here it is!"
Edwin's face brightened when he discovered the archery range. Seeing standard, round targets set up against the hill brought a profound sigh of relief to his chest.
Rachel is wonderful in every way, but she can be terrifyingly bloodthirsty at times. Are all noblewomen like that? But Catherine is so gentle...
Edwin involuntarily shuddered, remembering the human-shaped targets Rachel had crafted for him. She had gone so far as to draw realistic faces on the heads, making them look positively gruesome.
"Now I can shoot with peace of mind."
Edwin took his stance and picked up a blunted practice arrow. Once he had mastered drawing the bowstring, the next phase was loose after loose. For the past several days, he had fired no less than a hundred arrows each day.
"You must loose one hundred arrows every single day, without fail."
The moment he nocked the arrow onto the string, Rachel's stern voice echoed clearly in his ears.
"Bear in mind, of course, that only arrows striking the mark will be counted."
Edwin drew the bowstring taut with all his strength, steeling his resolve not to return to the prince's palace until a full hundred arrows had struck true.
"Did I not instruct you to refrain from visiting the quarters?"
Jerome, Commander of the Gloria Knights, wore a thoroughly helpless expression before his unexpected visitor. His voice, remarkably gentle and tender compared to his usual commanding bark, was steeped in deep concern. "I told you it is far too perilous here, surrounded solely by rough men. Brigitte, please, heed your father's words."
"Do you bid me not to set foot here merely because there are men present?" A sharp, haughty voice snapped back at the Duke like an arrow loosed from a bow. "I cannot accept a command devoid of reasonable justification."
"Who said anything about a command? This is merely a father's request."
"A request bearing the weight of coercion is what one calls a command."
The young girl methodically dismantling Jerome's reasoning was Brigitte Crowner. She was Jerome's only child—and the sole reason he had ever taken up the mantle of Duke Crowner in the first place.
"Why have you fallen silent?"
At Brigitte's imperious prompt, Jerome broke into an affectionate, silly chuckle. "Yes, Bri. You are entirely in the right."
"You state the obvious."
Watching Brigitte huff and turn her head away in petulant pride, Jerome could only grin foolishly. "Goodness, who did you take after to turn out so terribly clever? Thanks to your sharp mind, your old father is thoroughly worn out."
"Are you displeased that your only daughter possesses such wit?"
"Well, now, Bri... by the way, when do you intend to fix that peculiar way of speaking?"
At the mention of her speech, Brigitte's emerald eyes flared wide in indignation. "I inquired whether you were displeased!"
"H-How could that ever be so? You are, and will always be, your father's greatest joy."
Jerome had once dismissed the old adage about a child being so precious that one would not feel pain even if they were put into one's eye. Yet now, watching his daughter sit with a prim, austere pout, swinging her little feet that could not even reach the floor, he looked upon her with boundless adoration.
"Right then. We agreed to practice archery together today, didn't we? The timing is splendid. We still have some time left before my council meeting—"
Before he could finish, the office door flew open without warning, and a knight stumbled into the room, gasping frantically for breath.
"Commander! A crisis! A demonic beast has appeared at the South Gate!"
A thick vein bulged prominently against Jerome's forehead. It seemed this tender archery lesson between father and daughter would have to be postponed once again.