The Hunting Competition, Part 5
The sensation of my legs kicking off the ground was entirely new. Steam seemed to rise from my burning, overheated muscles. Snort. Snorting hot air, I kicked off the ground with my limbs. I don't mean I was running on all fours like a dog. I mean... I had literally become a horse. Ha, unbelievable.
I looked down at the black legs galloping with immense power. They were, without a doubt, the hooves and legs of a black horse. Then again, thinking about it, it wasn't all that strange. It would be weirder if I could turn into a bird but not a mammal.
Though I had been flustered at first, the realization that my ability isn't actually turning into a crow, but turning into animals and that it took me about two months to figure that out was secondary. What mattered right now was that I could finally stop the Duke.
I stomped my hooves as hard as I could. The deeper I inhaled, the more my lungs expanded, generating energy like a revving engine. So this is what it feels like for a horse to run. Even though I was the one running, the scenery whipped past out of the corner of my eyes as if I were riding in a high-speed carriage.
If I had been in human form, I would have been scratched and bruised all over by the trees and thorny brambles, but as a horse, I just plowed right through them. However, my target was no ordinary rider; even though his horse was carrying a full-grown man, the distance between us barely shrank. Anxiety gnawed at me as I realized that if we went any further, we might cross into the large-game sector where other people gathered. With the situation veering wildly off-course from my original plan, I muttered a quiet curse.
"Neighhh!"
Instead of my voice, a loud whinny echoed through the forest. I thought I had grown used to it when I was a crow, but hearing a beast's cry escape my own vocal cords drove home the reality that I had truly become an animal.
Perhaps as a reward for sacrificing the last vestiges of my human dignity, the Duke ahead of me finally seemed to slow down.
"Whoa, easy now." Fortunately, he brought his mount to a complete halt, soothing his panting bay horse. I slowed my pace and trotted up beside them. I just hoped I wasn't foaming at the mouth like his exhausted beast.
A broad-shouldered, imposing veteran with silver-gray hair sat tall in his saddle, looking down at me. His sharp gray eyes swept over my form. Agoni Fidus. He was a character who played a crucial role in this story, though in the original plot, he and I were never supposed to meet face-to-face.
Since I had found the Duke quite memorable when reading the novel, I had occasionally wondered if I would ever get to meet him after transmigrating into the body of the Seventh Prince. I just never dreamed our first encounter would be as man and beast, rather than man to man.
At any rate, if my transformation worked the same way as before, he would recognize me as the Seventh Prince's horse. Nobles generally avoided riding horses of the same color as those favored by the Imperial Family, so none of the participants rode a horse like mine. As proof, not a single non-royal in the entire hunting competition rode a white horse with a golden mane.
Well, the reason no one rode a black horse like mine was slightly different. No noble wanted to show up to the hunt riding a beast that shared a coat color with the horse the Fourth Prince had gifted me purely to mock me.
Duke Fidus watched me for a moment, then guided his mount closer and dismounted.
"Why is the Seventh Prince's horse out here...?"
He muttered, studying me with a slightly disapproving frown. Finding it bizarre that I had no saddle, stirrups, or even a bridle—only a bag slung around my neck—the Duke walked a circle around me, sighed, and began rummaging through the saddlebag of his own horse. I let out a mental sigh of relief. As expected of his character, he wasn't the type to just abandon a stray beast.
Now the only problem was leading him to the lakeshore where Tollin lay unconscious—wait, what is he doing?
The Duke had pulled a long, sturdy rope from his gear, tied a few quick knots, and was now walking toward me. From the looks of it, he was trying to fashion a makeshift halter to slip over my head. He certainly had the deft hands of a seasoned veteran.
Snort! I tossed my head and backed away. Sure, if he insisted, I probably couldn't avoid it forever, but I didn't want to deal with untangling myself once I turned back into a human. To make my refusal absolutely clear, I shook my head vigorously a few more times, then reached forward and clamped my teeth down on the end of the rope he was holding.
"Easy now... I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just trying to take you back to where you belong."
Thinking I was spooked, he didn't try to wrench the rope away but instead spoke in a soothing tone. However, he wasn't a man to waste endless patience. If I kept refusing to cooperate, he would eventually grab me by the muzzle and force the knot over my head.
To communicate my intentions more clearly, I looked the Duke dead in the eye and gave the rope a gentle tug. Intrigued by the soft pull, a flicker of curiosity crossed his face, and he took a step forward. Seeing that he was willing to follow, I paused, turned my head slightly, and nudged my muzzle toward his bay horse.
The Duke's eyes widened slightly, but surprisingly, he complied without a fuss, taking his horse's reins and following me. I let out a breath of relief, glad I didn't have to resort to letting him bridle me, and began to lead the way. It was a bizarre procession—a black horse leading a nobleman and his mount—but since the situation was finally getting resolved after all this runaround, I felt a wave of relief.
Duke Fidus stared at the back of the black horse's head as it led him back the way he had come, wondering what on earth he was doing. To put it plainly... he was being led by a horse. And he was following quite willingly, at that.
His hunt for the golden fox had been completely ruined when this beast suddenly appeared behind him, but he couldn't simply ignore a royal mount. Seeing it wander around without a saddle suggested that something might have happened to the Seventh Prince.
The Duke thought of the Seventh Prince. A black-haired prince whose face he had only seen a handful of times. At first, the nobles had been utterly bewildered by the sudden appearance of a black-haired imperial prince, but they quickly solidified their stance after observing the Imperial Family's attitude toward him.
To the Imperial Family, he was like air. He clearly existed, yet they treated him as if he weren't there. No matter what he did. Even when he screamed and threw things. Even when he threatened and beat people. ...Even when he killed. He was never punished. It was simply swept under the rug.
It is a terrifying thing when someone can do anything to you without ever paying a price. Thus, while no one respected him, no one went out of their way to provoke him either. The Duke himself had witnessed the prince beating his servants half to death on several occasions. Each time, unable to interfere with the actions of royalty, he had simply walked past.
As a loyal subject of the empire, Duke Fidus had tried his best to fulfill his duty to the Seventh Prince, but he ultimately had to admit the truth. The boy possessed none of the divinity felt when looking upon the Emperor or the other imperial siblings. There was no awe to make one bow, no overwhelming charisma to force one to their knees. There was only a crude, repulsive violence.
Thus, he found it somewhat laughable that he was now moving mechanically to aid the Seventh Prince. He had always taken pride in his loyalty to the crown. Yet now, even without that absolute certainty, he found himself stepping forward without a second thought just because it involved the Imperial Family—even if it was the very prince he had spent years ignoring. He was even worrying that the prince's horse might get hurt.
The Duke let out a dry chuckle, thinking that this absurd situation—being led by a horse—was a perfect metaphor for his entire life. He looked down at the black horse, which was walking with its tail tucked unusually tight for its kind.
"I suppose you and I aren't so different," Duke Fidus murmured. He highly doubted the violent Seventh Prince would treat his own beast with any kindness or care. Given the prince's usual behavior, he had likely abused this black horse out of sheer resentment for the Fourth Prince's mockery. Yet, here the horse was, retracing its steps. It was simply doing as it had been trained. To seek out its master when separated, or to return to its designated place.
So, at the end of this path, the Seventh Prince would likely be waiting, or perhaps the stable where the beast had been taught to return when lost. It was just going back. That was all it knew, and once it ate and slept, yesterday's beatings would fade from its simple mind. He still didn't understand why it was trying to drag him along, though. Then again, what thoughts could a horse possibly have? With that thought, the Duke spoke to the black horse once more.
"Yes, just live like that. Don't think, don't worry, and just do as you are told. There is no greater bliss than ignorance and forgetfulness. At least you won't starve."
The Duke was not typically a talkative man, but the forest was quiet, and there was no one to hear him. There were only two horses matching his stride. He vaguely reasoned that he was being more candid than usual because the black horse's gaze seemed uncannily intelligent and steady. Even a sixty-year-old veteran and former Knight Commander could never have imagined that the Seventh Prince, transformed into a horse, was walking right beside him, listening to every single word of his self-deprecating monologue.
"Roaaar!"
Watching a bear the size of a carriage collapse with a painful shriek, its heart pierced through, the First Prince, Rasiah, looked on with a bored expression. He flicked his wrist, signaling his servants and hunters to retrieve the carcass.
"Brother, that was truly magnificent."
The Third Prince pulled up his horse beside him, offering a smooth smile and praise, but the First Prince didn't even spare him a glance.
The Third Prince lingered nearby, stealing cautious glances at Rasiah. The way he nervously parted his lips made it obvious what he wanted to say. He wanted to assure Rasiah that he had nothing to do with the rumors claiming the Third Prince would seize the throne now that Rasiah's power was supposedly waning. What a coward, especially since he's the one who started those rumors in the first place. He wished the fool would be a bit bolder. If only he had the guts to openly mock him, to say his era had passed. If he had, the one lying on the ground with a pierced heart right now wouldn't be that worthless bear, but this eyesore of a brother.
"Indeed, you are the only one fit to shoulder the future of Abaran, Brother."
"I think so too."
Seeing the Third Prince's face light up at his first positive response, Rasiah sneered and continued.
"And you, my brother, shall protect the Empire from a fitting position."
The Third Prince's face instantly froze. Once the Crown Prince was chosen and ascended the throne, the remaining siblings would either be allowed to stay in the capital or be exiled to far-off lands—all under the pretext of 'protecting Abaran in the name of the gods.' The First Prince had just sealed the Third Prince's future exile.
Leaving his stammering brother behind, Rasiah spurred his horse forward. He had never intended to let any of his siblings remain in the capital anyway. He would either kill them all or exile them to the fringes, forcing them to live out their miserable lives reminiscing about the glory of their youth. Except for one.
"Did you actually catch anything?" Rasiah called out playfully to the Second Prince, who was busy searing the eyes of a gray wolf nearby.
"Of course. I might have caught something even bigger than yours, Brother."
At his brother's mischievous retort, Rasiah laughed heartily and patted the top of his head. The Second Prince, Ditto Abaran. He was the only sibling Rasiah genuinely cared for. Clever and cheerful, Ditto was highly useful and never walked on eggshells around him, making him easy to be with. He was the brother Rasiah trusted above all others. Once he became Emperor, Rasiah planned to keep Ditto by his side to assist him. Whenever he brought this up, Ditto would grumble, complaining that Rasiah was just sugarcoating a lifetime of forced labor, but Rasiah knew it was all in good fun.
"Don't laugh. I'm serious this time."
Seeing his younger brother pout as if annoyed by his laughter, Rasiah teased, "We'll see about that. I've been in exceptionally good form lately. I think the championship trophy will be mine again this year."
In high spirits, Rasiah clapped his brother on the shoulder and galloped off to resume his hunt. Because of this, he failed to hear the words that followed.
"Indeed. How very strange."
It was the murmur of the Second Prince, his lips curling into a deeply playful, yet chilling smile.