At the head of the mounted squad rode a man who towered over the other riders, his face a rough terrain of muscle and scar. A jagged gash ran from temple to jaw, lending him a fearsome appearance. This was Turk Hale, captain of the First Guard of Baron Angley's black fortress, a man known for his fiery temper and love of cleaving enemy heads in battle.
Yet now, his jaw was clenched, eyes cast down at the rain-slicked path ahead, and a shadow of fear crept over his formidable demeanor. Ahead of him, bound to a horse, was a figure that made Turk's stomach twist with unease. He spat bitterly, muttering a curse under his breath, but ultimately pressed onward toward the castle.
The drawbridge had been lowered, the massive doors swung wide as the guard approached. With a series of clatter-clacks, Turk led his men across the bridge and into the courtyard. And there, descending from a side tower, stood the boy who had already seen them coming. Richard Angley's presence struck a subtle tension into Turk's spine. Hastily dismounting, Turk opened his mouth to speak—but Richard had already begun.
"You've returned an hour earlier than expected," Richard said softly, a trace of disappointment lining his youthful face. "It seems my worst assumptions were correct."
"Master, I…" Turk began, lowering his head.
"Enough," Richard interrupted. "Though I can guess the rumor about the lycanthrope is false, it remains curious—who spread it, and why? I hope, even if you did not capture the beast, you caught the one who fabricated the tale. Otherwise, I would be far more disappointed."
Turk finally raised his head and gestured sharply toward the figure bound on his horse. It was a man of roughly forty, hands calloused and attire marking him as a hunter. Richard's sharp gaze immediately deduced the truth: this was the likely source of the false rumor.
"So, Master, this is a hunter from the villages surrounding the Black Forest," Turk explained. "He spread the rumor to keep other hunters from entering and competing with him for game."
Richard let out a faint chuckle and shook his head. "As I thought."
"And… what will you do with him, Master?" Turk asked cautiously.
Richard's eyes met the trembling hunter, who had no idea that a rumor could summon the barony's heir and place him in such peril. For a moment, silence hung in the rainy courtyard. Then Richard turned back toward the tower, his voice soft but chilling: "Kill him. Make it clean."
Even Turk hesitated. The hunter was at worst guilty of deceit, deserving perhaps of lashes or imprisonment—but execution? The first guard knew the consequences: fear among the populace could grow, unsettling the barony's stability. Yet the order came directly from the second heir, acting with full authority in the absence of both the Baron and the first heir. Disobedience was not an option.
With a flash of violence in his eyes, Turk pulled the hunter from his horse and slammed him into the muddy ground. The clang of steel echoed as the captain drew his heavy longsword, raising it high above the man's head.
Before the blade could fall, the hunter screamed—not in plea for his life, but toward the approaching tower. "Master Richard! I swear I have never seen a lycanthrope! But I have seen a Firebear—the legendary bear engulfed in flames! I know you are interested in such creatures! Please, spare me! I can lead you to it! I promise!"
Richard paused mid-step, lifting his right hand slightly. The subtle gesture was enough to halt Turk's deadly swing in midair. Slowly, Turk lowered his sword, glancing at Richard with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
"Interesting," Richard murmured, turning his gaze toward the hunter. "You claim to have seen a Firebear. Are you telling the truth this time?"
"I swear! No lies, Master! I promise!" The hunter's voice rang with desperation.
Richard said nothing, neither confirming nor doubting, instead studying the man's eyes intently. "When did you see it?"
"About… three or four days ago," the hunter replied.
"Three or four? Be precise!"
"Three… three days! I am certain!"
Richard's gaze sharpened. "What was the weather like that day? Morning or afternoon?"
The hunter's eyes flicked upward to the right as he tried to recall. "A clear day… in the afternoon."
"And the Firebear—what did it look like?"
"Much like a normal black bear, only with reddish fur. Flames burned across its body exactly as the legends say. I intended to warn others of the Firebear in the forest, but people are more likely to believe a lycanthrope, so I told the lycanthrope story instead." The hunter's voice shook with urgency as he pleaded, "Master Richard, spare me this time, and I will lead you to the Firebear. I swear it's true!"
Richard said nothing. Without a word, he turned and resumed walking toward the tower.
"Master… shall we kill him?" Turk's voice was cold, tense, testing the waters.
Richard finally spoke, his tone even, almost detached: "No need for that—for now. He speaks truth, not lies. Lock him in the dungeon. When the weather clears and conditions are suitable for the Firebear to appear, take him along to track it."
"Yes, Master," Turk said immediately, obeying. He seized the hunter and began leading him toward the castle dungeon. Richard ascended the tower steps, followed silently by Lucy Fairwind. After a while, Lucy could no longer contain her curiosity.
"Master… how did you know the hunter was telling the truth? What if—"
Richard shook his head gently. "He wasn't lying. His eyes moved upward and to the right while answering. That's how I knew."
Lucy nodded slowly, still trying to process the subtle logic of the boy she served—a mind far beyond her years, yet precise in observation and reasoning.