Year 19-1

The events that had shaken me in Sous were enough to drive me away for a while. Rather than returning to Nestle, I traveled further west to Vega. It was a more prosperous place than Nestle and more prominent by far. Its central location made it a gem of the kingdom, despite having been a hotspot to find and hunt creatures.

It was also home to my brother Scott And his wife, Britta. While they worked to grow their family with children, they were kind enough to leave their doors open to me. I was 19 when I first moved under their roof. A cycle later, after Britta gave birth to their first child, it was time I move on. Though I wasn’t ready to leave the King’s city just yet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know we’re happy to have you,” Scott said while he held my arm.

“Your baby needs room to grow, Scott. I won’t keep space that should be hers,” I said.

During that time, Scott, his wife, me, and the newborn lived in a townhome. There was more space than the single-room living conditions Harris kept in Sous. Still, we only had access to the structure’s second floor, while another family lived on the first level. Most common families had less, but I knew had I left, it would open a room for the newborn.

“If you’ve grown tired of us, it’s fine, brother, but we’d rather you stay. Britta enjoys telling her friends about the hunter we have living under our roof. And I won’t deny your skills bring ‘security’ to our home,” Scott added while I paused in the doorway, prepared to leave the townhouse.

“It’s time I find my place. I can’t live between houses forever,” I said.

“And why not? We are your family. You always have a place with us, even if you’re the least successful of our original house of bastards,” he joked as always.

“I’ve been a hunter for four cycles, and already I rank amongst the top 50 in the kingdom,” I rebutted.

“You’re still the least successful,” Scott went on.

“By what scale?” I laughed, and so did he.

I could have made my departure less abrupt. Waking up one morning and packing my things to leave must have shocked my brother. It was no shock that he stopped me from walking out without saying goodbye that morning.

“I won’t be far. The Hunters Guild has an establishment in the city's heart. I’ll be there,” I said, picking up my things to take my leave again.

“Promise me you won’t disappear. You work so much. I’m sure we’d never know your face if you didn’t need sleep,” Scott said.

“Top 50, remember?”

“Still the least successful,” he debated while I stepped outside.

Vega was a city of narrow streets, alleyways, and long corridors.

It was a city of hidden wonders.

I remembered my first time inside its walls. It was so easy to get lost, but with something or someone on every street corner, it was an adventure.

With my weapons and collection of light armor, I made way for The Hunter Barracks. The long, towering building was meant to house anyone affiliated with The Hunter Guild living in Vega. Though hunters rarely lived in barracks. Often, we were compensated for our work well enough to afford better living arrangements. Naturally, our barracks had changed from militaristic lodging to more personal spaces as time passed over. Rather than sharing a room with more than a dozen heads, I’d have my own space with accommodations. I’d have to pay for every service and inch of space, but at a lower price than any unaffiliated inn.

It was relatively early when I reached the six-story building. Once inside, servants took my things and carried them for me. I let them go up to my room ahead of me when someone caught my attention in the foyer.

“Drake, The Demon of Nestle,” a familiar voice called out before I could cross the room to keep him silent.

Oliver, one of my partners then, was eager to see me.

“I told you never to call me that again,” I said as I approached the blond-haired boy.

“But it fits so well,” he joked, almost whining.

Most demonic creatures had red hair, hence my friend’s colorful name-calling. He knew I hated it, but because of his loud mouth, most people knew me as “The Demon of Nestle” rather than “Drake the Hunter.”

“Where is your sister?” I questioned Oliver.

It was rare to find him without his sibling, Opal. They weren’t twins, but they often acted as if they were born attached at the waist.

“Upstairs,” Oliver said, while trying to pull the sword from my hip, playfully, but annoying nonetheless.

The boy was obsessed with weapons, and mine were the only ones he never got to use. I pushed him away before he ever touched the hilt of my father’s blade.

“I need the both of you ready to go by noon,” I ordered while he went flying.

It was easy to forget how young he was after we’d killed so many things together. Or it was easy to ignore until we were done killing things together because he would always return to being a child.

“We have a mission!” Oliver celebrated while lying on the floor.

“There’s been a possible griffin sighting. The owner of a farm outside the city gates needs our help,” I informed the boy without bothering to help him.

He sprang back to his feet, but it didn’t stop the interaction from being embarrassing.

“We finally get to kill a griffin!” He said loud enough for others to hear.

It was a good thing The Hunter Barracks was rarely used; it meant fewer eyes to pay attention to us.

“We’ve killed griffins before,” I said.

“But they weren’t a part of the missions,” he corrected me, and he was right.

“Just go get your sister,” I ordered again, while trying to stop myself from laughing.

“I’m on it,” Oliver said before turning around like a stiff soldier and then running up a flight of steps like the child he was.

Opal and Oliver were two of the youngest hunters I had ever met. When I first met them, they were only 13 and 14 cycles old. They didn’t take on jobs or look for compensation. Those kids were only in it for fun. Their deceivingly light-hearted nature hid their potential well. They agreed to work with me because I kept them fed and clothed. Had they ever taken the time to ask for coin when they saved people, they would never have needed me. Regardless, they were good assets to have, even when challenging to control. Not only that, but they were higher-ranking hunters than I ever was.

Finally, I went upstairs to the third floor to find my new living arrangements. A bed, several shelves, a window with a view that only captured sights across the street, and a bucket. It wasn’t much, but there was room to add whatever I needed. Placed on the side of the bed were my armor and weapons, which the servants had brought up earlier.

I took the time to get dressed in the attire that felt most natural to me.

When dealing with natural foes, humans, more armor was better. When dealing with creatures, sometimes less was more. Some could melt steel plates, and others could stab through solid objects. I once faced a nameless monster with the gift of manipulating inanimate things, including the armor on my body. Some armors were too loud. Naturally, there were hunters with different armor sets for each creature they might face. Others went to extensive lengths to create a singular perfect blend of armor capable of handling every situation and every creature.

I had a few pieces I occasionally rotated into my dress, but day to day, I had my usual 5: gauntlets, plackart, breastplate, greaves, and pauldrons. My five pieces were red like my short hair, black leather I made from hunts, and silver points for structure. They were treasures I took the time to make stronger and embellish.

I was safer. Though I’d never call myself safe, I came close when fully dressed.

I didn’t get dressed to go hunting a Griffin. Oliver and his sister were supposed to be prepared by noon, but it was still early morning. I needed my armor to face a fae, not a monstrous creature.