Red Riding Hood - Chapter 49
IV. The Huntsman
The knight from Kalasca, under the command of King Brian and commander of the Chivalric Order of the Wolf, Bétor, cried out desperately.
“We must find the young master, we must find him!”
The young master in question was none other than Ylfus Gracian, heir to the lordship of the Gracian family in Kalasca and the lead knight of the Chivalric Order of the Wolf.
Ten days earlier, Ylfus had led the vanguard in pursuit of the fleeing knights of Sidney. The terrain they chased them across was a coastal plain, devoid of ambush spots, leaving Bétor somewhat at ease.
Yet Ylfus and his knights had not returned to the camp.
Bétor couldn’t immediately go searching for him, as he couldn’t take his eyes off Valdano Castle, where the defeated King Sidney had taken refuge.
Having lost his knights, King Sidney had sealed the castle gates, holding out in hopes of reinforcements. Meanwhile, the thin loyalty of Valdano’s lord began to wear thin.
The lord of Valdano secretly sent a messenger to Bétor, expressing his intent to surrender. In the letter, the location of the castle’s secret passage was revealed.
That night, Bétor launched a surprise attack.
Sensing the commotion, Sidney sent his family through the back gate and released all the prisoners locked in the castle. Chaos erupted, turning the castle into a living hell.
Amid the turmoil, Bétor heard the deposed king’s cry.
“My ambitions end here! But I won’t grant my unworthy brother the joy of displaying my severed head!”
Sidney doused himself in oil and, before Bétor’s very eyes, set himself ablaze, turning into a fireball that fell into the heart of the inferno.
It was the final moment of a long war.
After concluding the last battle at Valdano Castle, Bétor immediately set out to search for Ylfus.
Forming a detachment, he tracked the vanguard’s trail to Salvio Plain, where he encountered the scene of a horrific skirmish.
As an experienced commander, Bétor could reconstruct the situation based on the corpses and banners strewn across the plain.
Ylfus and his vanguard had likely driven Sidney’s knights to the seaside cliffs.
What they hadn’t anticipated was the arrival of Manann’s pirates.
The pirates, concealed by dense sea fog, would have approached the coast under the cover of their gray sails and attacked the rear of the vanguard.
Pirates alone wouldn’t have posed a threat, but their overwhelming numbers likely turned the tide.
The vanguard knights’ armor bristled with arrows, resembling porcupines, and the remnants of their last stand spoke of a fierce and desperate struggle.
Bétor ordered his men to retrieve the fallen knights’ bodies, personally combing through the pile of corpses to find Ylfus.
“Young master, where are you?”
Following him, Leardon, the mercenary commander, was gathering the pirates’ bodies into a heap and grumbled.
“Loyal Sir Bétor! I get your urgency, but could you stop calling that monstrous Wolf Knight by the endearing term ‘young master’?”
“What do you know?”
Bétor growled.
“I swore an oath to Lord Lantimos, the lord of Kalasca who knighted me. I vowed to protect the young master, to return him safely to his parents’ arms—even if it costs me my life!”
“I’m not questioning your loyalty!”
Leardon retorted in exasperation.
“I’m just saying it’s odd to talk about that bearded giant like some kid who ran off with a wooden sword! ‘Parents’ arms,’ seriously?”
“Shut up! I’ll say what I like!”
“Fine, do as you please!”
Leardon snapped.
“We’ve already turned over every corpse on this plain, haven’t we? And Sir Gracian isn’t here.”
Leardon continued with confidence,
“If Sir Gracian didn’t end up like a mermaid caught in one of those fishing nets those scrawny pirates throw, then he’s still alive!”
Bétor sighed deeply.
“Ah, young master! Where on earth could you be…”
As Bétor looked up at the sky in despair, a hawk swooped down toward him.
It was Ylfus’s messenger hawk, Sird.
***
Ylfus blinked and murmured,
“Where am I?”
He looked down at himself.
He was dressed only in a pair of underpants, bound tightly with iron chains at his ankles, legs, and hands, which were fastened behind him.
With a tinge of anxiety, he spoke,
“Cinq, if you wanted to tie me up, a rope would’ve sufficed. A soft cord would’ve been even better.”
Though he said it jokingly, he didn’t truly believe Cinq would do such a thing.
Twisting his body, he lay flat on the cold stone floor and looked around.
His eyes widened.
“Damn it! Where is this? Cinq, little one! Where are you?”
He lay beneath a domed ceiling, surrounded by arching columns.
The building’s walls were made of damp gray bricks, and the air was thick with the smell of mildew.
But that wasn’t the most important thing.
Before the faint light streaming through a stained-glass window, amidst the flickering candles shedding tear-like wax, sat something massive, hunched over.
