The Name Of A Sorcerer

The Hunt and The Ale

The four friends pressed deeper into the royal forest.

The cheerful sounds from the hunting parties gradually faded until only birdsong and rustling leaves surrounded them. Hours passed. They found tracks, broken branches, and fresh hoofprints, but every promising trail ended in disappointment.

Podric groaned for what felt like the hundredth time. "If I see another rabbit, I'm going home."

Samwell laughed. "You can't go until the hunt ends."

"I know. I'm still complaining."

Armand smiled as he adjusted the leather pouch across his shoulder. Inside, the two newborn direwolves slept peacefully, and the white pup occasionally poked its tiny nose out before curling back inside.

Suddenly Colin raised a hand. "Quiet."

Everyone froze. Ahead, beyond a cluster of pine trees, a gigantic bull moose grazed peacefully. It stood nearly six feet at the shoulder, and its enormous antlers stretched like the branches of a young tree.

Podric's eyes widened. "By the Elements... look at the size of it."

Samwell whispered, "If we bring that back... we'll definitely place."

Colin slowly shook his head. "No. We're going to win."

The four boys crouched behind the bushes. Armand looked between them. "What's the plan?"

Samwell pointed. "I'll trap its legs. I'll keep it from charging," Colin whispered. "Podric?"

The giant recruit grinned. "I'll stop it if it breaks free."

All three turned toward Armand. "And you... finish it."

Armand nodded. They slowly spread apart while the moose continued grazing, unaware.

Samwell acted first. He slammed his palm against the earth. "Earth!" Thick stone pillars erupted around the animal's legs. Startled, the moose reared violently.

Colin thrust both hands forward, and a powerful gust of wind slammed into the beast's side, forcing it back toward the stone prison. The moose roared and shattered two of the pillars.

"Now!" Podric charged. His muscles swelled as earth magic reinforced his body, and he wrapped both arms around one of the animal's antlers. The ground beneath his feet cracked as he fought to hold it still.

"Armand!"

Armand raised his hands. Instinct took over. "Earth..." The word escaped his lips almost on its own, and the ground answered. Jagged stone chains burst upward, wrapping around the moose's hind legs.

For a heartbeat everyone froze. Even Armand.

"...Earth?" Samwell stared. "You can use earth magic?"

Colin looked equally shocked. "I thought you couldn't control any element."

Armand didn't understand it himself, and he didn't have time to think. He grabbed his bow, drew an arrow, slowed his breathing, and released. The arrow whistled through the air and struck the moose cleanly through the heart. The giant beast staggered, took one final step, then collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Silence. The four boys stared at the fallen animal. Then —

"We did it!" Podric roared.

The four friends rushed together, laughing as they embraced. "We actually did it!"

Samwell slapped Armand on the back. "That's the biggest animal I've ever seen!"

Colin could barely contain his excitement. "We've won! We can ask Father for almost anything!"

Podric threw both fists into the air. "We're famous!"

Armand couldn't stop smiling. This was the happiest moment of his life.

Colin reached into his pack and pulled out a small signal flare. "Stand back." He lit it, and a brilliant red rocket shot into the sky, exploding high above the forest in a shower of crimson sparks — the signal for a major kill.

Only a few minutes passed before armored knights emerged from every direction, and several royal mages accompanied them. One veteran knight inspected the moose before smiling. "Excellent work. A magnificent kill."

The four boys beamed proudly.

Then the knight added, "Unfortunately... there are already two parties ahead of you."

Their smiles disappeared. "...What?"

Colin blinked. "We're only... ...third?"

The knight nodded apologetically. "The hunt already has a champion."

Colin frowned. "Who?"

The knight smiled. "Prince George."

Colin stared. "My brother? That can't be right. George barely takes anything seriously. How did he beat this?"

The knight chuckled. "He discovered and hunted a Silver Skyler."

Armand's eyes widened. "The Silver Skyler? Isn't that the rarest creature in the kingdom?"

The knight nodded. "Indeed. It is gentle, it harms no living soul, its silver coat reflects the moonlight like flowing water, and its antlers shimmer as though carved from crystal. Many hunters live their entire lives without seeing one. According to tradition, whoever finds a Silver Skyler wins the Royal Hunt by default."

Colin sighed dramatically. "Only George could accidentally win."

Armand looked at the knight. "Then who came second?"

"Sir Cedric. He brought down a giant cave bear."

Podric groaned. "I can't believe we're behind those two."

The knight smiled. "Third place is still something to be proud of." He gestured toward the royal mages, and they stretched out their hands. Blue magical circles formed beneath the moose, and slowly the enormous animal rose into the air, floating effortlessly.

"Let's return."

The levitating moose followed behind the procession as everyone made their way back through the forest.

By late afternoon they reached the royal gathering grounds, and the sight before Armand stole his breath. Lying upon embroidered carpets was the legendary Silver Skyler. Its silver fur shimmered even in death, its crystal-like antlers reflected the sunlight into tiny rainbows, and its peaceful face almost made Armand wish it had escaped instead. Beside it rested Sir Cedric's enormous bear, whose claws were nearly as long as Armand's forearm.

Moments later the floating moose descended gently beside the other prizes. The King inspected all three, then smiled proudly. "A successful hunt." He turned toward George. "My son. As this year's champion, you may ask one reward."

George scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... I've decided."

Everyone waited.

George grinned. "I want unlimited free ale... for me and my friends for an entire year."

Silence. Then the entire hunting camp erupted with laughter. Even the sternest knights couldn't hide their smiles.

King MacGil sighed and shook his head. "I should have expected that answer."

George bowed dramatically. "I thank Your Majesty."

"You haven't received it yet."

More laughter followed.

As evening settled over the forest, the entire royal company arrived at a massive roadside inn built specifically to host hunters after the Royal Hunt. Long wooden tables filled the open courtyard, roasted meat turned over great fires, barrels of ale lined the walls, and musicians played cheerful tunes while dancers entertained the crowd. Knights laughed together, recruits celebrated their first hunt, and for once there was no difference between noble and commoner.

Armand quietly slipped away from the noise and sat alone upon a wooden bench. Carefully he opened the leather pouch hanging around his neck, and two tiny noses immediately poked out. The white pup yawned, and the black pup climbed clumsily onto the table.

"They must be hungry."

Armand searched the table. The only thing nearby was a loaf of bread, so he broke off tiny crumbs and placed them before the pups. The little direwolves eagerly devoured every piece, and watching them made him smile.

"They're adorable."

A familiar voice came from beside him. George. The prince sat heavily onto the bench with a mug of ale in one hand. "What have we here?"

Armand gently picked up the white pup. "I found them during the hunt. Their mother died."

George examined them with genuine interest. "Direwolf pups. Very rare." He poured a few drops of ale onto the wooden table, and immediately both pups began happily licking it.

Armand blinked. "Is... ...that safe?"

George laughed. "They're direwolves. They've got stronger stomachs than most soldiers."

Armand watched the pups continue drinking. Then George looked at him. "Tell me. Have you ever had ale before?"

Armand honestly shook his head. "No."

George nearly dropped his mug. "You've never had a drink?"

"No."

George slowly stood and climbed onto the bench. Then he raised his mug high. "Everyone!"

The music quieted, and dozens of heads turned toward him. George pointed dramatically at Armand. "This poor fellow... ...has never had a drink of ale in his entire life!"

For a moment the courtyard was silent. Then laughter exploded from every direction. Knights slapped tables, recruits doubled over, and even several ladies struggled to contain their laughter. Armand's face turned bright red, and he wished the ground would open beneath him. George simply threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing louder than anyone else.

George laughed so hard that tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He sat back down and pushed the large wooden mug into Armand's hands. "Go on. Drink."

Armand stared suspiciously at the frothing ale. "I... don't know."

George raised an eyebrow. "What are you afraid of?"

"I've never tasted it before."

George leaned closer with a grin. "I'll make you a deal. If you finish that entire cup, I'll tell you a secret."

Armand's eyes lit up. "A real secret?"

George nodded solemnly. "A prince's secret."

Armand looked down at the mug, and after a moment's hesitation he lifted it with both hands. The smell reached him first — rich, bitter, and strangely sweet all at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and took one enormous gulp. The ale flooded his mouth. It tasted of roasted barley, honey, and something sharp that burned pleasantly down his throat. By the second swallow the bitterness had faded into a warm sweetness, and by the time he emptied the mug his cheeks were already beginning to feel warm.

He slammed the empty cup onto the table.

George clapped enthusiastically. "Well done!"

Armand wiped his mouth. "Now... the secret."

George leaned in until only Armand could hear him. "I cheated."

Armand blinked. "...What?"

George chuckled. "The Silver Skyler I brought back? It wasn't really a wild one." Armand stared.

George continued casually. "My hunting party found an ordinary silver stag. I had a few mages glamor it. They used illusion magic to make it resemble a Silver Skyler before we brought it back."

Armand's mouth slowly fell open. "You... ...cheated?"

George shrugged. "I prefer the term... ...creative problem-solving."

Armand couldn't help laughing. "I can't believe you. You'd better not tell Father."

A calm voice suddenly came from behind them. "And what exactly are you teaching the poor boy?"

George looked over his shoulder. "Brother."

Prince Phillip stood there, dressed in a dark riding cloak. Unlike George, he appeared perfectly composed. Armand immediately jumped to his feet and bowed. "My prince."

Phillip gave him a small smile. "At ease, Armand. You needn't bow every time you see me." He took a seat across from them. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

Armand looked surprised. "You... have?"

Phillip nodded. "The recruit who saved Sir Cedric. The boy who fought a creature at Warkh. The squire who somehow possesses a magic no one understands. I'd say you're becoming rather well known."

Armand scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't know about that."

Phillip smiled faintly. "Modesty is a rare quality."

George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh no. He's giving speeches again."

Phillip ignored him.

George suddenly slapped the table. "I have an idea."

Phillip sighed. "I already dislike it."

"A drinking contest."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

George leaned forward with a grin. "Brother... you're the one who gave me my very first mug of ale."

Phillip covered his face. "...The greatest mistake of my life."

George burst into laughter. "So admit defeat now."

Phillip shook his head. "...Fine. But only one contest."

George sprang onto the bench. "A barrel! Bring us a barrel of ale!"

The nearby patrons erupted into cheers. Within moments the innkeepers rolled out a great wooden barrel and placed it between the two princes. Mugs were filled one after another, and word spread through the celebration like wildfire: the King's sons were competing.

Knights, recruits, merchants, and servants gathered around.

"George!" "Phillip!" "George!" "Phillip!"

The cheering grew louder with every mug they emptied. George drank as though it were water, and Phillip kept pace surprisingly well. One mug. Two. Five. Eight. Ten.

George slammed another empty mug onto the barrel. Phillip reached for his own... paused... and his face suddenly turned pale. Without warning he leaned forward and vomited onto the ground.

The crowd gasped. A heartbeat later Phillip slumped sideways and collapsed unconscious.

The courtyard exploded into deafening cheers. George raised both arms triumphantly. "I win!"

Prince Colin hurried over laughing. He grabbed George's wrist and lifted it high into the air. "The winner! Prince George!"

The celebration became even louder.

From a quiet table at the edge of the courtyard, King MacGil watched his sons. A genuine smile rested on his face. For once there were no arguments, no politics — only laughter.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. "You seem happy."

The King looked up. Ashake stood beside him as though he had always been there, and the elf quietly took a seat.

MacGil smiled. "Where have you been?"

Ashake looked toward the celebrating crowd. "I have always been here. Watching."

The King remained silent for a while. Then he asked quietly, "Will it always be like this?"

Ashake tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"This. The laughter. The peace. My family. My kingdom. Will it last forever?"

Ashake's expression softened. "You know the answer already. Happiness is precious because it is rare. In this world, nothing lasts forever."

The King frowned. "For once I don't want riddles." He turned toward the elf. "Tell me plainly. What becomes of my kingdom?"

Ashake watched the dancing flames for a long moment. Then he spoke. "War will come. Many lives will be lost. A stranger will one day sit upon your throne. Hope itself will seem to die."

The King's face slowly lost its color.

Ashake continued. "But... in the deepest darkness, a light shall rise. And that light... ...will save us all."

MacGil slowly looked across the celebration. His gaze settled upon Armand, whose face had turned slightly red from his first taste of ale. The young recruit was laughing with George while the tiny direwolf pups slept beside Colin.

The King spoke almost to himself. "Will he be that light?"

Ashake smiled faintly. "So what if he is?"

The King looked at the elf, but Ashake offered nothing more.

George eventually wandered back to Armand's table. The prince snapped his fingers toward two young women working at the inn, and they approached with amused smiles.

George grinned mischievously. "My friend... I'm certain you've never been with a woman, and I plan on making you a full man tonight."

Armand blinked slowly, the ale making his thoughts sluggish. "What... ...are you talking about?"

The two women gently helped him to his feet before he could lose his balance.

Armand suddenly remembered something. "My... my pets."

Colin picked up the sleeping white and black direwolf pups. "Don't worry. They're safe with us. We'll look after them."

Armand smiled sleepily. "Thank you..."

The women guided him toward the inn. As they led him up the wooden staircase toward one of the private guest rooms, Armand barely seemed aware of where he was going. Over and over, in a quiet, drunken murmur, he whispered only one name.

"Gwen..." "...Gwen..." "...Gwen..."