Chapter 62: Hunters Hunting Hunters

Hy the fifth morning of Helheim’s entrance examination, finding marked beasts was becoming harder than finding applicants willing to steal from one another.

The change had begun quietly. Those who possessed twenty points no longer needed to risk their lives hunting, yet the promise of a higher standing tempted them onward. Others had barely reached the requirement and feared losing everything.

Around the central valley, where several mountain trails converged, both kinds of applicants gathered.

Rumors spread that a group of High Vassal descendants had discovered a rich hunting ground beyond the river. By noon, three separate parties were following those rumors, each convinced the others were carrying unregistered markers.

The first confrontation began at a ford beneath an abandoned watchtower. A dozen applicants wearing different vassal crests had occupied the crossing and demanded two markers from anyone passing through.

They called it a toll. The children they stopped called it robbery, but few wanted to challenge twelve armed opponents beside deep water.

Elsa Silberfang Var Grandel arrived while their leader was searching a smaller boy’s pouch.

She watched him remove three black markers, then stepped onto the riverbank and asked, "Does the toll apply to Great Branch descendants too?"

The leader recognized her ashen-white hair and immediately released the pouch. "We’re maintaining order at the crossing, Lady Elsa," he explained, forcing a respectful smile. "Too many applicants have been attacking travelers. We only collect a small payment for protection."

Elsa glanced at the boy whose markers he had taken. "Protection from whom?" she asked, her expression turning cold. "The people collecting the payment?"

One of the guards shifted his spear toward her. Elsa caught the shaft, pulled him off balance and struck his knee with the flat of her sword. Before his companions could respond, she had disarmed their leader and pushed him into the shallow water.

She returned the three markers to their owner, then took the leader’s unregistered pouch as compensation for wasting her time. The remaining guards stepped aside, suddenly eager to let travelers cross without payment.

Unfortunately, Elsa’s intervention created another problem. The guards scattered upstream, shouting that a Great Branch heir was attacking vassals and taking their markers. By the time the story reached the forest road, it had become a claim that the Silberfang Branch intended to seize every crossing in the valley.

Leander Falkenrath Var Grandel heard that version from two frightened applicants fleeing toward the northern ridge.

He doubted it immediately, but the report explained why armed parties were gathering near the old watchtower. When he reached a narrow bridge overlooking the river, he found six vassal descendants preparing an ambush for whoever approached from the south.

Their leader stepped forward with a drawn saber. "Turn around, Falkenrath. This bridge is closed until we settle what happened at the ford."

Leander examined the ropes supporting the bridge, then the six boys spread across it.

"You intend to avenge your friends by threatening the next person you meet?" he asked. "That seems unlikely to improve their situation."

The leader lunged instead of answering. Leander sidestepped, caught his sword arm and forced him against the railing. The others advanced, but Leander cut one of the bridge’s loose support ropes.

The structure lurched sideways, throwing the attackers into a frantic struggle for balance. He withdrew onto solid ground while they clung to the planks, then ordered them to drop their weapons before he helped them back across.

Farther east, Astrid Drachenmark Var Grandel encountered the consequences of the same rumor. A party of Great Branch applicants had decided to intercept the vassals supposedly gathering to retaliate against Elsa. They were already facing another group when Astrid arrived, and neither side was willing to admit who had drawn weapons first.

"You came here to fight over something you didn’t witness?" Astrid demanded, looking between their leaders. "Then stop talking and decide whether you’re actually prepared to fight."

One boy mistook her irritation for an invitation and attacked.

Astrid met his blade with a crushing strike that drove him to one knee, then turned her sword toward his companions. "I wasn’t asking you to demonstrate your stupidity," she told him. "Put the weapon away."

The disturbance might have ended there, but someone spotted Tristan Eisenwald Var Grandel descending the ridge. Several applicants recognized him as one of the strongest competitors and immediately assumed he had come to claim their markers. Two vassal heirs moved to block his path, demanding to know which side he supported.

Tristan looked past them at the arguing groups. "Neither," he answered evenly. "There’s a marked Demonic Beast in the ravine behind you. Your shouting has driven it toward the river."

A heavy crash interrupted the argument. Branches snapped along the ravine wall, and an enormous boar with plated shoulders emerged from the undergrowth. The applicants nearest the slope scattered as it charged.

Tristan stepped forward, drew his sword and struck the beast across its foreleg, turning its momentum away from the crowded crossing. Astrid attacked from the opposite side, cutting into its exposed flank.

Their combined assault brought the beast down before it reached the river.

For several seconds, nobody spoke. Then an applicant pointed at the carcass and demanded, "Who gets the core?"

Astrid slowly turned toward him. "You watched us kill it while hiding behind a tree," she replied. "Take one more step toward that carcass and you’ll discover how generous I’m feeling."

Tristan removed the core and tossed it to Astrid. "You opened its flank," he said, sheathing his sword. "Keep it."

Astrid caught the core, surprised by the gesture, but Tristan was already walking away. His lack of interest only made the watching applicants more uneasy.

News of the fighting spread through Grauwald with remarkable speed.

By afternoon, vassal parties were accusing Great Branch descendants of monopolizing hunting grounds, while branch applicants claimed the vassals had organized robberies along the main trails.

Neither accusation was entirely false, and both encouraged more confrontations.

Near the southern cliffs, Rolf Sturmhardt Var Grandel discovered eight applicants blocking a passage with fallen trees.

Their leader demanded five markers for safe passage. Rolf laughed, kicked the largest trunk down the slope and charged through the opening before anyone could reorganize. He knocked two spearmen aside, seized the leader by his collar and deposited him in a muddy ditch.

"If you’re going to build a barricade," Rolf advised, grinning at the furious boy, "make sure it can stop someone."

Sabine Nachtwald Var Grandel took a quieter approach. When three applicants began following her through the pine forest, she deliberately led them into a clearing surrounded by dense brush. The first pursuer emerged with his sword raised and found Sabine waiting behind him.

She pressed her blade against his back before his companions realized she had disappeared from the trail.

"You were so busy watching where I went," Sabine observed, "that none of you considered where I might return."

She took their unregistered markers and left them arguing about which of them should have watched the rear.

Alaric Blutkron Var Grandel encountered the aftermath of another ambush beside a rocky stream.

Three injured applicants sat against the bank while four armed vassals searched their belongings. Alaric ordered the searchers to step away. When their leader refused, Alaric struck his sword aside and stopped his own blade against the boy’s throat.

"The examination permits theft," Alaric said, watching the remaining three retreat. "It doesn’t oblige me to stand here and approve of yours."

He recovered the stolen pouches and returned them to the injured children before continuing upstream.

The Main Line descendants could no longer avoid the unrest. Cassian’s hunting party reached the central valley to find its entrance barricaded by applicants demanding markers from every group.

Cassian refused the demand and directed his companions around both flanks. Within minutes, the barricade’s defenders had been disarmed without a single serious injury.

Isolde received warning of the same coalition approaching her camp. She moved the injured members inside, stationed guards along the slopes and met the visitors with twenty armed applicants at her back. The coalition withdrew without testing her defenses.

Konrad had an easier afternoon. Two boys recognized him on a forest path, exchanged frightened glances and fled before he could greet them. He watched their retreat with visible disappointment.

"People are becoming terribly unfriendly," Konrad remarked, adjusting his sword.

As sunset approached, Grauwald settled into an uneasy silence. From concealed observation posts, Helheim instructors recorded the confrontations without intervening.

They noted who protected weaker applicants, who exploited injuries, and who remained composed when outnumbered.

Those judgments would matter when the examination ended. The marked beasts were still dangerous, but they were no longer the only creatures being hunted.

Every pouch had become a prize, every alliance a potential betrayal, and every famous surname a challenge.

The children had entered Helheim’s examination to prove they could survive the mountains.

Now they were discovering whether they could survive one another.