“With the raincoats made of waterproof cloth, we have been able to travel farther in inclement weather. Even the tents and wagon bonnets use this material, and our knights have been able to maintain their good health even in the rain. Furthermore, with the camp stoves, our meals have greatly improved; almost no one has to go hungry any longer.”
“You have many more wonderful magical tools now, like those toe socks.”
Grato nodded politely, then the two men shared a sly smile—noblemen did not have the luxury of removing their leather dress shoes, and so those toe socks were indispensable for a multitude of reasons. “This spring, one of our knights was snatched up by a wyvern, but he made it drop him and then safely returned. There he is—the one drinking beside Rossetti.”
“I have heard about that. Guido’s youngest brother, the Black Reaper and the Dark Lord. He seems like a very capable fellow.”
“He is. He does a lot for our squad. It was he and a few others who slew four purple bicorns without suffering a scratch earlier this year.”
“He must possess an unyielding spirit. Something to appreciate, that.” Purple bicorns could induce hallucinations of those one cherished—they were fearsome creatures that caused many a life-threatening injury. That multiple knights could slay them without incident was a sign of the Beast Hunters’ great mental and physical fortitude.
“We managed to slay marsh spiders without a single casualty this year. We sold the useful materials to the Adventurers’ Guild for a tidy sum.”
“That would explain the big pat of butter on the grilled crab today.”
“Indeed. A while ago, we slew the second forest serpent of the season. It was quite delicious roasted over a fire and brushed with sweet barbecue sauce. I even dried the leftover meat with this sword here.”
“To treat the Green King like that—it’s almost inhumane...” Bernigi was flabbergasted, yet he couldn’t help grinning. In his time, fighting a forest serpent had been a matter of life and death—that it had become a trifle was something to celebrate. Still, one had constricted him and broken his hip bone, yet here was Grato saying the knights had enjoyed the Green King with barbecue sauce, as if it were not a living terror but food. What had become of the Order of the Beast Hunters? “I realize how much I have aged. You have raised your squad well, Grato.”
“Not I alone—it began with you, Sir Bernigi, training my seniors so well.”
“Hm. You are a commendable captain. The young’uns of the Order even draw little harpies on the back of paperwork, I hear—you have spent time well training your men.”
Grato almost drowned in his wine. After his coughing fit stopped, he glared at the old man. It was an expression Bernigi had seen many times in the past. “In all seriousness, the squad has grown so fine. You ought to be happy.”
“Yes, sir. There is still room for growth—but we have Rossetti protecting our backs now.”
“Oh? Is she a member of the squad too?”
“In my eyes, yes. It would be too much for her to bear, so I have not told her so explicitly, though.”
Thinking of the earnest manner in which she had approached him, and thinking, too, of those green eyes of hers, Bernigi understood completely. “You have been quite charmed by her, I see.”
“Yes, indeed—she is truly a great magical toolmaker.”
“‘A fine redhead,’ as you would have said in your youth, eh?”
Grato chuckled but otherwise said nothing to address that point.
Bernigi continued, “The Order of Beast Hunters’ advisory magical toolmaker, was it? She was the one who made that magic bow, then?”
Grato maintained his silence, but his smile disappeared; those red eyes of his looked dead into the old man’s, and that was answer enough. The captain approved of this magical toolmaker who had so charmed him—it was obvious she had become an integral part of the squad.
There she was outside the window, accepting a scoop of estervino from the man with sand-colored hair—by his dress, he must have been her bodyguard. He was too far to make out clearly, but he seemed to be a strong knight with a great physique. On her other side was the Scarlet Armor with a unique set of golden eyes, Scalfarotto’s Volfred. Diagonally across from her, Jonas, with oxide-colored hair and Guido’s usual bodyguard. Despite that impregnable defense surrounding her, everyone seemed to be enjoying their time in her company. Indeed, every single knight was laughing and making merry with the others. It was a scene Bernigi had never seen in his time, and, if he were afforded the opportunity to show his true feelings, it was a scene he wished he could have seen. If only my youngest son could be there with them now—for a split second, he saw the boy’s smile.
“Well, I know not who made it, but I understand it is a weapon the squad needs and treasures. You ought to get blood bonding and temple contracts to all those who come in contact with it.”
“Yes, we are in the process of doing so.” Grato said the silver stole there was handling it, reassuring Bernigi.
The old man finished his last sip of red wine and once again looked out the window at Rossetti; dressing like a male attendant suited her well, but there were surely other outfits that would have looked better on her. “Grato, offer the goddess a set of robes.”
“For Rossetti, you mean?”
“Mm. Make it a set of fine robes at that. Just surrounding your advisor doesn’t guarantee that no one will steal her away from you; you have to make others understand that she is one of ours.” It was only at the end of his declaration that Bernigi said “ours”—even now, he still wanted to consider himself a member of the Order of Beast Hunters. He had doffed his armor many moons ago, yet he was still so attached. How pathetic. Trying to look as collected as he could, Bernigi glanced up at the other man.
Grato was wearing the same smile he had all those years ago. “Understood, Vice-Captain.”
The feast had concluded on schedule, and everyone had helped restore the riverside to the way they had found it. By the time the carriage arrived back at the castle, the orange of the setting sun had all but disappeared. They headed toward the Beast Hunters’ wing to get a simple medical checkup—a necessary procedure after an expedition in case there were any unnoticed injuries or illnesses. Unlike the others, Dahlia had a priestess look after her, and it was over in a flash. Marcella and Jonas had had a cup of tea in the drawing room while they waited for her.
Volf stepped inside soon after he knocked. “Hey Dahlia, got any plans tonight?” He was followed by Randolph, who reproved him that he should have waited for approval before entering.
“No, nothing in particular. I was just thinking of heading home.”
Another knock came at the door; this time, it was Marcella and Jonas. “I apologize, Master Dahlia, but would it be possible to borrow Marcella? The Beast Hunters so graciously offered some frozen armored crab to Lord Guido, and I was hoping to have Marcella’s help with the heavy lifting.” On the journey home, the wagon had been stacked up to belly height with frozen crab; it seemed immovable without body strengthening magic. But now, even Jonas was calling her “Master Dahlia.” She knew it was far too late to say no, but who knew if she would ever get used to it?
“Could you be so kind as to lend a hand, Marcella?”
“Yes, of course.”
“We have also received many smaller pieces, so as thanks, I shall send some home with Marcella.”
“Thank you very much, Master Jonas. My wife will be overjoyed.” Marcella was delighted, and Irma would surely be too; she loved crab as well, and she ought to have a few extra portions for the twins’ sake.
“Lord Volfred, may I please task you with sending Master Dahlia home?”
“Sure, Master Jonas.”
Jonas gave his farewell and left with Marcella in tow.
“A few of us were thinking of going out to celebrate a successful expedition—would you be interested as well, Dahlia? Of course, if you’re tired, I’ll take you home straightaway.”
“I wouldn’t mind going, but hasn’t everyone had enough to drink already today?” Almost all of the knights could hold their liquor, so what was a few more to them, she supposed. No one had been really drunk, so maybe they could go for another round or five. As for Dahlia, she had consumed more crab than drink; she worried that she would stink of the creature tomorrow.
“Think of it less as going out to drink and more as going out for a light dinner. The apple pie where we’re going is rustic and delicious, by the way.” Randolph sure had a way with inviting someone; she beamed.