"Another hit, Young Lord! That could very well have been a shot to the heart," said Ponca, a blonde, middle-aged man, as he gestured toward the haystack lying twenty feet away.
Ponca was a man who had once been caught trying to enter the Golden Forest to hunt.
The man should have fed the worms and soaked the soil with his blood long ago. But his skill with a bow surpassed even that of most Noble Bloods.
Because of this, instead of death, he was handed as a punishment a role he would have never refused.
The duty of training the children of Blood Denegis in marksmanship and leading a ranged company within the Wardens, becoming an elite of the domain.
What had seemed like the greatest mistake of his life, venturing into the forest to hunt for food because his children were starving, turned out to be his salvation.
Now, he's well compensated, no longer needing to hunt just to survive. All things considered, he's more than satisfied with how it turned out.
"As I recall, Ponca, you said that the last seven shots I took, and I've only shot seven times," sighed Blanc, hearing the man.
"When a shot hits like that, it deserves a little praise. Even if it's the seventh time in a row." Ponca laughed.
"While I understand that, try to switch it up a little bit, hearing the same praise over and over again starts to sound like empty words after a while," said Blanc, as he took another arrow from the quiver that hung near his left shoulder.
"Others don't get to hear a word of praise in their life, whatever they do, yet you complain," muttered Ponca, barely loud enough so he could be heard.
But Blanc did not get offended by the words. He barely heard them, his mind somewhere else.
Still, his pride could not ignore the taunt, and, as he aimed, he spoke, "What was that?"
"Nothing, Young Lord, I was speaking to myself," Ponca replied.
"Is that so?" asked Blanc, releasing the arrow and hitting the same spot, splitting the previous arrow down the middle, "Let us end this for today, good day," said Blanc, handing Ponca the quiver and bow that he used to train with before he turned around and left.
It was the afternoon of the next day after the hunt. The mansion and Duldera, in the distance, were in an uproar, and defensive measures were taking place anywhere in preparation for the Iron Line.
The common people were not told anything about what and why it was happening.
The only word they heard was that the Patriarch would address the common council in Duldera and the local guilds about what was happening the next day.
The Patriarch today was to prepare and give orders to the commanding officers of the Wardens, who had been summoned to the mansion in the evening.
And there was one more in that meeting's attendance who was to be summoned. A mysterious woman in Blanc's eyes.
Part of an organization, just as mysterious yet vital to the Empire and the entire continent. The Daughters, they called them.
The Daughters were part of an organization rooted deep in history. They were made entirely of women of Imperial, Royal, or Noble Blood, with extremely rare cases of a common woman having the potential to become a Daughter.
What was that potential consisting of? Blanc did not know.
He barely knew they existed after all. In his eighteen years alive, he only saw a Daughter two times before, as only the heirs or the Head of the Blood handled business with them, and always had one employed.
As for their importance to the Empire's survival... Well, without them, the Empire, and likely the world as we know it, would have ceased to exist long ago.
The Daughters cannot harvest Raw Vita. It's simply impossible for them.
But in giving up that ability, they are gifted with something else. A different kind of power, unknown in its origin to everyone but them.
The power, a sixth sense, almost.
They could feel the Vita within others, and are most often tasked with tracking down criminals who possess illegal Marks, gained through hunting in forbidden places or by killing innocents.
A common offense among the lower classes, sadly, as it happens all too frequently.
Yet this is only one side of the coin and their role.
In war, their presence becomes crucial. When two armies meet on the battlefield, each side typically brings a Daughter to serve as a witness.
If two are present, they can perform a ritual that prevents the absorption of Raw Vita from fallen soldiers during the fighting.
This is vital as history tells of wars in past Ages where men became beasts, and beasts turned into monsters, their minds lost to the overflow of Vita.
By the time the blood dried, even the monsters were gone. Consumed by the very power they had so greedily tried to take for themselves.
The Daughters' ritual allows Vita to be used in battle, but not absorbed. This ensures that wars are won by strength and strategy, not by the reckless consumption of power.
And if only one side brings a Daughter?
Then she alone can manipulate the flow of Vita on the battlefield, cutting off the enemy's access entirely, should they rely on Raw Vita to fight.
As such recollections passed Blanc's mind, he remembered why he was training archery while everything and everyone around him was in chaos. He had nothing to do.
Not in the literal sense, at least, as he wished to aid in whatever preparations he could, anything. But his father did not allow it.
Why was it so? He did not know why, as he tried to argue, but with no success,
which annoyed him to no end.
He was considered a man now, not a boy anymore. Yet he felt as if they still looked at him as one.
So, perhaps out of spite, or more likely boredom, he entered the mansion, starting a game of juggling his way out of the chaos inside.
His destination was the quiet of his room.
"Blanc?" asked Kael, sighting him from the stairs he stood on, watching everyone move around with anxious eyes.
"Kael, what is it?" he replied once he got to the staircase.
"Are you not helping around?"
Blanc sighed, his anger spewing out, "I asked, what is it?"
"Well, uh, if you are not busy, do you want to hang out with me and Lune? Perhaps continue the story from last night?"
"Not now, Kael, I'm tired," he replied, climbing the steps.
Kael got in front of him, blocking his way, "Please brother, we cannot leave the mansion to go outside, we are bored to death and cannot even leave the lower floor since, you know, everything that is going on," said Kael, showing with his hand the chaos below them.
The bottom floor, where Blanc came from, was filled to the top with bureaucratic officials running around with documents in hand, from provisions to intel and everything else in between being on them as they have temporarily moved their base of operation to the mansion instead of Duldera, as defensive preparations were underway and the Patriarch needed to be present in a single place during this time.
"I cannot, Kael, maybe next time. Now, please," he said, signing for his little brother to move out of his way.
"Please, Blanc."
"Oh, for Vita's sake, why do I have to repeat myself? I said MOVE!" yelled Blanc, for a moment stopping the chaos below with his voice.
"Ah, uh, yes, I'm sorry," replied Kael shily, as he moved out of Blanc's way.
For a moment, Blanc felt guilty seeing his brother make himself as small as he could, as he moved out of his way.
But the guilt passed, as the anger he felt for feeling useless returned, and without a second thought, he pushed past him, climbing the stairs towards his room.
The room was the same bland that Blanc loved, but now, it felt closed off, silent. Which was exactly what Blanc wanted.
And so, he sat on his bed, before lying down, while looking at the ceiling.
The chaos was now only a whisper in Blanc's ears, easily pushed away with thoughts, but perhaps, that was a mistake as well.
As he closed his eyes, trying to calm down the storm brewing in his mind, the pressure of it all came back to him.
Everyone is preparing or helping with something, yet here I am, enjoying the peace. He thought, trying to lie to himself, which made it worse, as the air felt thicker in his lungs, as he tried to gasp for me.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes, now, once more sitting on the bed, as the walls somewhat felt closer, the ceiling threatening to close in on him at some point if he should stay in the room a minute longer.
He clenched his fists, knowing that he was doing this to himself, thinking it into existence, even though it was not really happening.
The air was the same, the walls were just as far away as they were before, and the ceiling, well, it stood for centuries, so surely it will not fall now.
But Blanc did not believe it.
He got up from the bed and started pacing the room, trying to steady his breath and anger that now somewhat turned to panic.
He felt like a beast being hunted by unseen predators, yet he felt like the hunter himself.
And trying to stop everything, including the tears from forming, he took the bow from its display, the quiver from near it, and the knife from the wooden box, and out the door he was.
He passed Kael, not batting an eye, nor hearing anything he might have said.
And he did just the same with everyone he passed, as he rushed out of the mansion.
And before long, he was out, ignoring guards and bureaucrats alike until the gates were in front of him.
The guards tried to stop him, but he passed them without a word. And once the gates were behind him, he started running, as fast as he could, towards the Golden Forest.