Chapter 82

The ground shook as the bear collapsed, and birds hidden among the trees burst into the air with a clamor of startled cries. The confusion carried a raw, instinctive fear of the unknown predator that had entered their forest.

Dylan kept his bowstring drawn tight and continued to watch the fallen bear. A lack of movement did not guarantee it was dead.

Then came the sound of voices, much closer than before.

“The bear’s down!”

“What? It didn’t even take that many hits!”

“I think it was struck in the neck!”

“Who in the world did that?”

The murmuring came from the nobles who had joined the hunt. Most of them were middle-aged men, though a few younger nobles and women were mixed in among them.

They were trying to make sense of what had happened when they spotted a tall, black horse and the man seated on its back. Their eyes widened.

“Y-Your Grace! Duke of Vasteron!”

“Ah, Your Grace!”

Everyone who had gathered there turned toward Dylan, bowing deeply in unison.

“Raise your heads. More importantly, make sure the bear is truly dead. I have a child with me, so I must ask for your help.”

His tone was polite but carried an edge of command that made everyone move at once.

“Y-Yes, of course!”

“Orwellin, don’t go alone, it’s still dangerous!”

A few nobles who seemed used to hunting stepped forward. They gripped their weapons tightly and approached with caution, wary that the bear might rise again at any moment.

One of them stabbed its neck with a sword, but the beast did not so much as twitch. Its breath had already stopped.

Only after confirming it was dead did Dylan sling his bow back over his shoulder and turn his horse slightly. Even if it was too late, he wanted to keep Noah from seeing the body.

“Noah, I need to get down for a moment. Hold on tightly to Nocturne’s neck.”

“Yes!”

Noah’s voice trembled as he wrapped his arms around the horse’s thick neck.

Nocturne snorted sharply as if displeased by the small, clumsy hands gripping him so tightly, but he did not shake the boy off. For all his temper, he was an intelligent and well-trained animal.

Once Dylan dismounted, he gently lifted Noah into his arms. While the others inspected the carcass, he looked into the child’s face.

“You must have been frightened, but you did well. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Noah shook his head quickly.

“Noah’s fine.”

Dylan felt relieved, but what worried him more was not the boy’s body, it was his heart.

Noah was a child who refused to watch even a deer in pain. Now he had seen a bear die before his eyes.

Dylan held him a little closer and spoke quietly.

“You weren’t too startled when it fell?”

“I was. The bear was running away…”

The boy’s sharp eyes had not missed anything. Even in the chaos, he had not frozen or looked away. He had seen that the bear had been fleeing, not attacking.

Dylan reached out and brushed the boy’s reddish-brown hair.

“You’re right. It was running away.”

“Then why didn’t you let it go?”

Though the bear was already dead, Noah still seemed uneasy. Dylan paused to think, choosing his words carefully so he would not hurt the child’s heart.

“It depends on the situation. If the bear had gone deeper into the forest, I would have let it go. But when they wander toward people, it can’t be helped. If there are too many bears, they have to be hunted, but this was the only one I’ve seen so far.”

“Then why did you hurt it?”

“Because it was running toward where people were gathered. Look.”

Dylan pointed at the direction where the bear’s head had fallen.

“That’s the way we came from. What’s there?”

Noah’s eyes widened in realization.

“Mom’s there.”

“That’s right. Your mother is there, and there are others outside the hunting grounds cheering for the hunters. They can’t protect themselves.”

There were knights posted nearby, but far too few compared to the number of spectators. Explaining that would only confuse Noah further, so Dylan left it unsaid.

“If the bear had run into the crowd, someone might have been hurt. I had to stop it.”

Noah still looked a little downcast, but not because he disagreed. He simply seemed sad for the bear.

He nodded quietly.

“It would be nice if we could tell bears not to go that way.”

“That would be nice,” Dylan answered softly.

It was a kind of thought he had never once entertained in his life, but hearing it from Noah made him want to agree.

The boy nodded seriously, comforted by the answer. Dylan was about to hand the situation over to the other nobles when another question came.

“Your Grace, the bear won’t move anymore, right?”

It was hard to tell whether Noah asked out of curiosity or concern.

By now Dylan was used to the endless flow of questions that followed wherever the boy went. Without thinking much of it, he nodded.

“Yes. It won’t move anymore.”

“Then can I see it up close?”

“There’s nothing good to see.”

Noah’s face immediately fell. His round cheeks puffed out, and his lips stuck forward in a pout. Even his delicate eyebrows slanted downward, making his expression almost comically pitiful.

‘Did I sound too harsh?’ Dylan thought.

He blamed himself rather than suspecting the boy was simply disappointed. After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed and began walking toward the bear.

“You mustn’t touch it.”

Noah’s face lit up instantly. He nodded again and again, smiling brightly.

That pure smile made Dylan realize too late that he had been completely swayed by a child who was only six years old and still believed himself to be five.

But his feet were already moving. It was too late to turn back. Perhaps Agnes would have known how to, but he did not.

They stopped about three steps away from the bear’s body.

Baron Orwellin laughed awkwardly and spoke up.

“Your Grace, that was truly impressive. We couldn’t land a single blow anywhere vital. It could have been a disaster.”

“Hitting the mark is less important than steering the situation in the right direction. Be careful next time.”

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I’ll make sure everyone’s warned before we start the next hunt. Myself included.”

Baron Orwellin scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. He was an honest man, perhaps one who took after his wife.

“By the way, the young Lord Overhen is very brave. My daughter Violet started crying the moment she saw the bear, and she hasn’t stopped since. Viscount Tavella and his wife are exhausted from trying to calm her down.”

He laughed heartily, finding the situation more amusing than troubling.

Dylan gave no reaction, but Noah’s eyes widened.

“Violet’s crying? Because she got scared?”

He looked around anxiously as if trying to spot her among the hunters.

Baron Orwellin chuckled at the boy’s concern.

“Young Lord Overhen is quite the gentleman. Violet will be delighted when she hears that. But she’s asleep now, worn out from crying, so you can visit later. It isn’t polite to wake a lady, you know.”

The Baron’s good-natured banter made Noah’s eyes round with surprise. He had never met a noble who spoke in such a warm and easy way.

But being called a gentleman seemed to please him. He smiled shyly and nodded.

“Yes!”

Dylan, meanwhile, found himself quietly impressed. Not by the Baron’s jokes, but by how naturally he drew a child into conversation, easing his worries without force.

He remembered that Baron Orwellin had five children. In noble society, that number did not necessarily mean a man was a good father, but Dylan suspected this one truly was. The way he spoke to Noah made that clear.