The Cracks in the Dam
Before the hunting competition begins, the servants summon professional hunters to divide the forest into sectors. This is to prevent any untoward incidents during an event where the most noble figures of the Empire gather. Of course, there are rare nobles who can channel a weak amount of Manis to keep their bodies robust. Conversely, there are also those who were forced to participate but are far better suited to academic pursuits than catching beasts. If someone were to die rather than just get slightly injured, things would get incredibly complicated. Since the blame would fall squarely on the servants who prepared the competition, the division of the sectors is executed with absolute precision.
The results of that meticulous planning are the strips of cloth I see now, tied tightly to the branches and fluttering in the wind. White cloths are hung in areas where small game primarily appears. Medium game is marked in blue, and large game in red. Typically, the small game sector is not far from the entrance, the medium game is in the middle, and the large game is located deepest within the forest.
I gripped the reins tightly, searching for the boundary where the white cloths transitioned to blue. Since this was the largest of the imperial forests, I had to hurry if I wanted to cross paths with Duke Fidus, whom I was so desperately seeking.
Of course, I wasn't searching blindly. If my calculations were correct, Duke Fidus would cross over from the medium game sector to the small game sector today. Around this time, he catches a fox with golden fur to present to the Emperor.
The problem was that this was just a brief piece of information mentioned in passing during a flashback scene, meaning the exact time and location where he caught the fox were never described. This was one of the reasons I had been so damn busy over the past few days. I had to find the golden fox before Duke Fidus did.
For the past week, whenever I had a spare moment, I transformed into a crow and scoured this massive forest. I had thought finding a golden fox in a lush, green forest would be a piece of cake, but that was a massive delusion. There was a reason the creature had survived to adulthood in these woods; it rarely showed itself except at night, and it constantly moved its den.
By the time I finally located its habitat, I had already accumulated the experience of getting smacked on the back of the neck by a red fox's forepaw and having my head narrowly grazed by an eagle's wing. But in the end, I managed to find it. I figured out where this clever golden fox spent most of its time.
Then, I had to piece together several other details. The fact that Duke Fidus, who usually hunted in the medium or large game sectors due to his outstanding skills, had spotted a small animal like a fox meant he must have found it at the boundary between the medium and small game zones. And since there was a brief mention of him washing his hands in water immediately afterward, there had to be a lake or a large pool of water nearby. Since he would have spotted the fox while hunting in the medium game sector, I wouldn't be too late if I rushed here the moment the competition began.
The place where all these clues converged was right here. In front of a lake surrounded by a small cluster of knee-high shrubs that looked like boxwoods. I loosened my grip on the reins and slowly paced around. It seemed I wasn't too late. The area around the lake was quiet and pristine, as if no hunting had taken place here yet. To catch the slightest hint of any approaching change, I needed to listen closely to the chirping of insects and the wind rustling through the trees. Everything was perfectly prepared. Now, all I had to do was wait here, stop the Duke when he appeared, state my business, and my job would be done.
Snort! Snort!
...If only an unexpected obstacle hadn't appeared. The black horse, which had been walking at a leisurely pace, suddenly began to snort softly as if something had displeased it. I held the reins and patted its neck, but the beast refused to calm down. I was utterly dumbfounded by this uncalculated betrayal. Hey, weren't we in sync earlier, even if we weren't exactly best friends? Why are you suddenly acting up?
Ignoring my commands, the horse stomped its right forehoof hard as if irritated, continuing to snort. My bag, hanging from the right stirrup, shook violently. No way...
"Are you seriously complaining that it's too heavy?"
As if on cue, the beast turned its head slightly and locked eyes with me. ...Does this thing actually understand what I'm saying? A shiver ran down my spine, reminding me of the crow from my first day of transmigration. Next came a wave of indignation.
"Aren't horses supposed to pull entire carriages? You're only carrying one person and a single bag."
No matter what I said, the beast merely stared at me. When I showed no intention of dismounting, it began to buck its hind legs, forcing my rear to slam hard against the saddle.
"Alright, alright! I get it! I'll get off, so stop!"
Forced by its violent protests, I slung the bag over my shoulder and dismounted. The moment my feet touched the ground, the horse trotted over to the lake, seemingly satisfied, and began to drink. Regardless of my dumbfounded scoffs at its sheer audacity, the beast drank elegantly and shook its head with a soft snort. Far from being vulgar, as someone had once claimed, it certainly possessed more dignity than I did.
Thinking it had rested enough, I approached with my bag in hand, only for the horse to stare at me and take a slow, deliberate step backward.
"Well, I'll be..."
I tried to mount the stubborn beast a few more times, but it refused to budge. I couldn't stand here in a standoff with a horse forever. If I missed the Duke because of this, I would have to resort to my backup plan, which I wasn't particularly fond of.
"Just you wait. I'm telling the stablehand to cut your feed in half."
Glaring at the horse, I turned my attention back to the sounds of the forest, ready to react the moment I heard the approach of hooves. If all else failed, I'd just have to throw a rock or something.
Duke Agoni Fidus walked through the underbrush, where blue flags could be seen here and there.
"It seems luck is not on our side today, My Lord," Tollin, his accompanying aide, teased, but the Duke did not reply.
It wasn't a lack of luck. The problem lay in his own mind. Normally, he would have bagged a couple of wolves or deer with his uncanny marksmanship, but today his thoughts were too tangled to focus on the hunt. He couldn't even register the tracks of the beasts.
The Duke let out another sigh—he had lost count of how many he had uttered today—and looked up at the sky. The sky, now cleared of the rainbow, was crystal clear. It was as if everything beneath that sky was beautiful.
Agoni Fidus. His family was one of the pillars of power among the nobility, to the point where there was no one in the Empire who had not heard the name Fidus. Wealth, honor, and the respect that naturally followed—his was a life where everything was guaranteed. Yet lately, an insidious anxiety had begun to creep into his mind, and he found it utterly unbearable.
For generations, the Fidus family had served the imperial family, acting as the Empire's sword and shield. The imperial family were gods themselves, incarnations of divinity who had descended from the heavens in the distant past to save a chaotic world. It was said that the first Emperor, Sierra Abaran, had used his mysterious power to pacify the warring factions that had split the land into dozens of pieces. Although the records of the first Emperor, who named the unified empire Abaran, had become little more than myth over the past thousand years, the Duke had been taught that the surviving imperial family was living proof of that history.
Even without such teachings, a single glance at their wondrous golden hair was enough to evoke deep respect and reverence. Duke Fidus had first laid eyes on those he so deeply revered thirty years ago, when he accompanied his father to the Imperial Palace. Now, past the age of sixty, his memories had grown hazy, but he still vividly retained the shock of that day—a shock that had rendered all the reverence he had learned from books and tutors seem like a meaningless waste of time. No other description was necessary. They were gods themselves. For the first time in his life, he had felt the overwhelming sensation of looking upon something so far above him that he dared not even gaze at them directly.
And he had never been prouder of his family than at that moment. As one of the founding families that had assisted the first Emperor, he felt immensely proud and even affectionate toward his house, which had remained their sword to this day. When he was identified as a possessor of Manis—a rarity even among high nobility—he felt as if he were flying. He swore his loyalty to the current Emperor and, even before inheriting his title, raised his sword for them without a single doubt. For thirty years, he had run forward, fueled by that reverence and loyalty.
He had stepped down from his position as the Imperial Knight Commander a few years ago. Part of the reason was that his body was no longer what it used to be, but he also believed it was time to raise a successor to serve the imperial family in his stead. Just as his father had done, he taught his young, late-born son the reasons for loyalty to the imperial family, their nobility, and their wonder. He explained the legacy of their house and why it was so vital. Watching his son follow his teachings so well, he believed this was the true happiness of old age. Imagining that in a few years, this grown child would succeed him in serving the imperial family, he could ask for nothing more.
But his flawless world had begun to crack. The beginning of this collapse was a mere whim, like a tiny stream of water starting from a small crevice that eventually grows out of control and breaks a dam. It happened on a day when he was touring the Capital with his young son. Lately, he had taken pleasure in showing his son the merchant guilds and other businesses owned by the Fidus family. It was because his young son absorbed everything he taught like a sponge. Just watching the boy accept his words with such gentleness and wisdom brought peace to his heart.
On that day, a minor accident had occurred along the carriage's path, forcing the coachman to take a detour instead of their usual route. He had been perfectly at peace until then. Until his eyes, looking out the window, caught sight of the corpse of a young child, beaten to death and left rolling on the street.
"Stop the carriage."
Without realizing it, the Duke had ordered the carriage to a halt and approached the body. No one cared about the child. Or rather, what used to be a child. When he grabbed a passerby to ask, the man bowed obsequiously and answered. He said the child had been caught trying to steal tribute intended for the Imperial Palace from the Temple, and that was the result.
In the Empire, the Temple served the first Emperor and the imperial family. Touching anything belonging to the imperial family was a capital offense, punishable by death. Duke Fidus knew this law all too well. He had even executed criminals for that very crime several times. Though none of them had been a child this young. No one was allowed to properly bury the corpse of such a criminal. A sinner who desecrated the gods was unforgivable from the very moment they committed the crime. People believed that unless the body was burned, anyone who touched it would be defiled. The Duke, too, hesitated, unable to bring himself to lift the child.
"Father, what's wrong?"
As he stood hesitating before the body, his mind went completely blank, as if struck by lightning. His son, worried about his father who had suddenly stopped on the road, had followed him out. That clean, chubby face overlapped with the face of the dead child, which was covered in dried blood and wounds. Overwhelmed by an indescribable emotion, the Duke hurriedly scooped up his son and climbed back into the carriage. His heart was beating faster than it ever had before.