Vierna studied the hunter. A young Beastkin stood before her, humanoid in build yet touched by something unmistakably wild. His face was human—sharp but kind, with a faint warmth that softened the edges of his features. Tawny-gold hair fell in loose strands over his brow, catching the light in shades of autumn. From within that hair, a pair of slender, furred ears rose and twitched at every sound, and a pair of antlers, polished and branching like a young stag’s, curved gently from his head.

  A short tail flicked behind him, restless and uncertain, betraying the nerves hidden beneath his careful smile. His green eyes held a clarity that felt almost too open, the kind of gaze that belonged more to the forest than to the village.

  He was mostly human in shape, yet the details—ears, tail, antlers—gave him away.

  “Vierna, this is Fenric. He is our current huntsman now.”

  Vierna looked uncertain. When she had been forced to hunt with Sieg, there had been several other hunters with them, both amateur and seasoned. Yet all of them shared the same unmistakable air. Hunters did not fidget. Their bodies carried a quiet tension, the kind that came from hours of stillness in the woods. Their weight settled evenly on their feet. Their eyes moved more than their heads, tracking sound and shadow without wasted motion. Even when they rested, there was a readiness in the way their hands hovered close to their weapons, as if their bodies never fully switched off.

  Fenric, however, was the opposite of all that.

  “Herr Loran’del, is Fenric the only hunter here?”

  Loran’del sighed. “Back then we had more hunters, but as you can see, Rolbart is dwindling. Most of our hunters… they’re simply not here anymore.”

  Vierna’s curiosity got the better of her. “Didn’t the Reich prohibit moving out of a village without approval from local Lords? I guess the baron wouldn’t allow people to move away from Rolbart.”

  Loran’del turned toward Vierna, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the faintest crease forming at the edge of his brow. “You are very sharp, Fr?ulein… Too sharp even for your own good. I will definitely tell you more about it. You are our new resident after all, but for now let’s leave it at that.”

  Vierna didn’t ask more. She could roughly guess what Loran’del hid. Either they had moved forcefully, breaking the Reich law about residency, or they were now in Schattwald Forest, joining the revolutionary group.

  Loran’del rubbed his chin. “Hmm… you know, I’ve reconsidered. Perhaps it’s best you rest a little. Yesterday’s ordeal was… well, it must have been—”

  “Herr Loran’del, forgive me for speaking out of turn.” Fenric stepped forward, ears tilted back in a respectful bend. “But we do need to restock our meat supply. The granary’s running thin, and even with Fr?ulein Vierna lending a hand yesterday, we’re only just keeping ourselves afloat.”

  Loran’del turned to him. “And that is precisely why we have you, Fenric. You could—”

  “You know I’m not the hunter my mother was, Loran’del. And truth be told, we’ve no certain measure of how skilled Vierna is yet. Even so, the two of us together stand a far better chance than I would on my own.”

  Loran’del frowned. “Fenric, I agree our situation is dire. However, Fr?ulein Vierna is—”

  “Herr Loran’del,” Fenric interrupted gently, “I believe Fr?ulein Vierna wishes to start working as soon as she’s able, considering Korrn has put her into massive debt for helping our village. The least we can do is allow her to do so, given how much she’s already done for us.”

  Vierna was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Fenric to be this willful, let alone bold enough to push back against Loran’del, who was clearly far older and far more authoritative. It didn’t fit the unsure half-deer boy she had seen earlier. And the way he spoke—measured, proper, almost court-polished—was nothing like what she imagined from a village peasant.

  I should give him more credit.

  Loran’del looked at Fenric, his eyes steady. It was nothing like the light, approachable manner he had shown before.

  “Hm. But after what she witnessed yesterday, perhaps it is wiser to let her rest.”

  “Herr Loran’del, forgive me, but Fenric is actually correct,” Vierna said. “I would like to start as soon as possible.”

  Loran’del turned toward her. He still wore his usual smile, yet something sharper lurked beneath it, like a dagger glinting from behind a sleeve.

  Fenric spoke again. “Vierna herself has told us what she wants, Herr Loran’del. She’s clearly mature enough to know what is best for her.”

  The elf chief didn’t reply at first. He studied both the hunter and the spy in silence, then finally exhaled and brushed his hair back with one hand.

  “All right Fenric, you’ve delivered your point.” Loran’del said. “Please make sure to bring something back, alright?”

  “We will do our best,” both Vierna and Fenric said in unison. She glanced at the young Beastkin and gave him a small smile.

  Fenric blushed and turned his gaze away.

  “Herr Loran’del, I should tell you that Aline was conscious earlier. She said she wanted to help Rolbart too, after I told her what happened.”

  Loran’del didn’t turn and just continue walking towards the village center.

  “So… Vierna or Crysta?” Fenric began.

  “Hehe… it’s Vierna. Crysta was forced on me by that… man. He kept telling me to introduce myself as Crysta. Personally, I hate that name.” Vierna smiled. “So, Herr Fenric, what should we do first?”

  He gave a small, sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head. The gravitas and certainty he had shown while speaking with Loran’del vanished as quickly as they had appeared. “Just Fenric is fine. And before we head out to hunt, I ought to help mend the granary. Stay here a moment and catch your breath.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Vierna’s brows drew together, confusion creeping in. “Uhh… Fenric, if we hunt during the day, all the big game usually goes deep into the sheddings. You do know that, right?”

  “But I promised Herr Aurlic I’d help with the granary. Can’t very well go back on my word now, can I?”

  Vierna exhaled. The main thing was to earn the village trust, and clearly debating with your coworker was not going to further that agenda. “Oh well, can I help too?”

  “Well, it’s just manual labour really—mostly patching up insulation and the like. It would tire you out.”

  “Are you saying that because I’m a girl, I can’t do manual labor?” Vierna leaned closer to Fenric.

  “No! No, oh gods, that’s not what I mea—”

  “Haha… relax, I’m just joking.” Vierna laughed softly. From the way he blushed and startled at the remark, she guessed Fenric didn’t interact much with girls his age. “But I do want to help people around Rolbart as well.”

  Fenric exhaled, as if he had narrowly avoided danger. “Well… okay, if you say so. Then let’s go.”

  They made their way toward the granary, located in the Beastkin quarter at the center of the village. An old man called out.

  “Hey, Fenric, come here for a moment.”

  Both Fenric and Vierna went toward the old man.

  “Fenric, sorry to bother you, but my roof is leaking. Could you take a look at it?”

  “Haha, sure, Herr Selric.”

  “Aren’t we going to see the granary?” Vierna asked.

  “Well, I can’t just let an old man sleep with a leaking roof, right?” Fenric looked at her. “Come on—you said you wanted to help.”

  “Well, all right.”

  The two of them spent the morning repairing the roof. Luckily, the leak wasn’t too big and the roof only needed a new thatching plank. Vierna helped Fenric by passing him the tools he needed.

  After they were done, they continued toward the granary, but many people stopped them along the way to ask for help with chores. Vierna noticed the villagers’ expressions toward Fenric. Despite his young age, he was clearly popular. Everywhere he went, people smiled at him and greeted him.

  This confused Vierna. Fenric admitted himself to be a poor hunter, yet he somehow still held the villagers’ hearts. If anything, he seemed even more popular than Loran’del—especially among children and youths his age.

  Some of the Beastkin girls—probably around Fenric’s age—called out to him with easy smiles. Yet Fenric only glanced their way once before looking down, his ears twitching, refusing to meet their eyes.

  “Hey, Fenric, why do people like you so much if you aren’t a good hunter?”

  “Ouch… are you always this frank, Vierna?” His ears dipped a little, but his tone stayed gentle.

  “Hehe… sorry, I’m just curious.”

  “Well,” he said with a small, self-conscious smile, “I’ve never claimed otherwise. Everyone knows I’m not half the hunter my mother was.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I do what I can. Small chores, repairs, fetching things, helping folk where I’m able. Idle hands make for trouble, or so my mother used to say. So I keep mine busy.”

  Vierna recognized this behavior. It was like looking at her past self.

  “I see. Anyway, were you there during Aline’s flogging?”

  “I was… I really wanted to stop it, you know.” Fenric’s eyes wavered. “But Herr Loran’del kept telling us villagers not to go against Korrn.”

  “Do you not agree with him?”

  “I don’t. I always thought that man went too far. I really wish Loran’del would do something more than just telling us to calm down.”

  Vierna could clearly feel the frustration behind his words. Maybe this was why a revolutionary group had formed in the forest at all. She wanted to steer the conversation toward her mission, but decided against it. She had just met Fenric, and it would be strange to suddenly ask about something dangerous like the revolution.

  “Ah, by the way, Vierna… is Aline someone close to you?”

  “Hmm? Aline is just a friend. She was more like a sister to me.”

  It pained her to lie about her relationship with Lina. However, she felt it would be easier to get close to Fenric if he believed she had no romantic interest at the moment.

  “Ahh… I see, haha. Sorry if I was prying.”

  “Not at all, Fenric.” Vierna smiled. “How about you? Do you have someone special?”

  “Me?” Fenric let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I can manage with people well enough, but girls my age… that’s a bit beyond me. Even speaking with you takes more effort than I’d like to admit.”

  “Why? We’re just the opposite gender, you know.”

  “I wish I knew,” he murmured, rubbing his neck. “Whenever I talk to girls my age, my heart starts carrying on like mad. Never quite learned how to deal with that.”

  “And you don’t feel that way with me?”

  “Oh gods, I’m trying not to faint here, haha.” Fenric laughed. “But since you’re new here, I can somehow manage.”

  “Haha… you’re cute, Fenric.” Vierna patted his head.

  “Hey! I’m older than you, you know?”

  “Oh really? How old are you, actually?” Vierna asked.

  “I am nineteen years old.”

  Vierna was surprised. Fenric was much older than her.

  “And how do you know I’m younger than you, Fenric?”

  “I’m good at reading people’s ages, you know. I’d guess you’re around sixteen at most.”

  “Haha… I’m eighteen, Fenric.” Vierna chuckled as she lied. “But you don’t act like a nineteen-year-old at all. So right now, I declare you’re thirteen—and my younger brother.”

  “What? Haha, you’re strange, Vierna.”

  “Hey. It’s big sister Vierna for you.”

  “Nope. If anything, you’re little Vierna now.”

  “Haha… Look at you—just a moment ago you were shy and red-cheeked, and now you’re teasing me.”

  Both of them laughed. Still, it pained Vierna to deceive Fenric. She genuinely wanted to befriend him, yet Lina and the mission took precedence.

  When they arrived at the granary, Fenric greeted the staff there and set to work. Vierna joined him, the two of them handling simple tasks—patching gaps with straw and clay, shifting sacks, and hammering loose boards back into place.

  As they worked, Vierna began to notice small things. Villagers trading bundles of herbs for strips of cloth, a group of women stirring a pot in the open kitchen, children carrying bowls back to the same long table. The pattern was clear—Rolbart lived more as a commune than as separate households.

  “You all eat together?” she asked.

  Fenric nodded. “Most days, yes. Some still prefer to cook alone, but most of us like it this way.”

  Vierna was astonished by the intimacy of it all. If only the circumstances had been different, she wouldn’t have minded being part of such a community.

  She wanted to probe further about the villagers who had gone missing, but decided the time wasn’t right. First she needed to win more of Fenric’s trust. He clearly knew more than he let on, and the last thing she wanted was to slip up and make him suspicious. So she kept the conversation light, steering it toward safer ground.

  As they worked, Vierna noticed how often Loran’del’s name came up. A woman mentioned him checking the well last week, another spoke of him hauling wood during the winter. Hearing his name again and again stirred Vierna’s curiosity. He was the one who had made her endure that hellish tea time, after all.

  “Hey, Fenric, how old is Loran’del actually?” she asked.

  “Haha, why do you ask that?”

  “I’m just curious. I don’t know how an elf’s appearance works.”

  Fenric wiped his brow. “Twenty five in elven age, which makes him around fifty in normal count. He took the post after his father died. People trust him… he lives like one of us. And fifty is really young for an elf.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “Yes. Despite being a young elf, we all know he means well. It’s just a shame he lets Korrn trample all over him.”

  Vierna caught the frustration in his tone. It was true that most villagers had been warm toward Loran’del, but if he continued in his passivity, Vierna didn’t think it would end well.

  Despite the chatter and small jokes as they worked, a thought began to press at the back of Vierna’s mind. At first, she dismissed it as nothing, but little by little she caught it—certain glances from some of the people passing the granary. Too sharp for a place like Rolbart.

  It was only a hunch, but she guessed not every villager here was as simple as they seemed. Some looked at her the way men weighed coin, or scouts sized up strangers. She couldn’t prove it, yet the suspicion lingered.