Governor Larius spurred on his white stallion as the six Kaltanian hunters rode by his side, all with bronze bows and dozens of fine arrows in their quivers, heavy chain mail over their shoulders, and long braided beards. Two of them also carried bronze spears, long and sharp. Senator Cladius spurred behind them, wondering what they were saying in their incomprehensible tongue. His horse was well-bred, and its mane was trimmed carefully and combed under the golden armour. Masterful Gadalian metalwork covered the horse's head and Cladius’ own ceremonial helmet, which was made of gold. And yet, with his short stature and eternal potbelly, he looked unimpressive next to Larius and his crew.

“Come on, Senator. The beast is not far,” Larius said, bracing again and staring at the trunk of an oak with his single eye, examining it as if it held the clues for a successful hunt. He smiled faintly and lifted his head. “Forward!” He said, turning his horse around and spurring furiously.

“Coming,” Cladius said as he trotted by, passing through the tree. He noticed large claw marks piercing the hard bark.

Cladius sighed and kept riding, trying to remain close to the group. “Larius… How near is the beast?” he asked.

Larius looked back at him, annoyed, and forced a smile. “Very near, old friend. I have been tracking this mad deviless for days,” Larius looked up, his bronze hair reflected the autumn sun. “Now, I'll teach her. I'll teach her and all her seed.”

Cladius noticed anger flashing in Larius' only eye. A black patch covered his other; the one he had lost in battle. A fencing scar crossed through his cheek.

“I’ll teach her good,” Larius went on.

Cladius asked himself what the poor beast had done to deserve such hatred.

Larius galloped in front of him, down the forest path, as the trees grew thicker and their branches more twisted. Fallen red and yellow leaves still covered the ground.

They rode up toward a dark cave, its entrance covered with moss and lichens, as well as bushes of red leaves. Cladius noticed the tracks that guided the hunters.

Larius raised his gloved hand and the company halted.

The chatter of the hunters ceased. Larius remained with his hand raised, and the whole company waited in silence for any sign of movement.

At first, Cladius could not quite tell what he was hearing, for it was little more than a rustle, like leaves shifting underfoot. But it soon grew louder, a thudding of feet hitting the ground, like that of someone running in the woods. He swallowed back his fear and kept his eyes trained on the entrance to the dark cave.

Cladius had never seen a live bear before—the only reference he had was the rug that lay in his sitting room—and he had not realized that it would be so big. Fearlessly, the beast charged against Larius, undeterred by the flashy bows of the hunters, confident in its own knife-sharp teeth and enormous claws.

Larius’ horse turned, terrified, and its rider forced it to stay, bolting the reins calmly. The brown bear rose on two feet, its eyes black like coal but reflecting the light of the sun, its brown ears mutilated by scratch marks, perhaps from previous bear fights, its snout capable of tearing an arm in one bite. It towered over the Governor like a castle, and yet, as mighty as it seemed, the troop seemed like a cruel persecution against an innocent force of nature.

The bear roared furiously, and Cladius remained calm, holding the reins and ready to run away if things turned out for the worse.

The governor spurred hard, grasping the spear firmly and thrusting it into the bear’s neck.

Cladius felt a sense of dread engulf him and clenched his fists involuntarily.

An arrow from the company followed and struck the beast in the chest. Cladius shut his eyes. The bear stumbled back, as more arrows rained on her. Soon, it collapsed to the ground letting out roars of agony.

That was it. That was the hunt, he shook his head, staring at the blood that slowly flowed down from its wounds, dampening the brown fur and painting it red. Why had Cladius even agreed to go, he asked himself. Stepping into the beast’s territory and killing it mercilessly had been nothing short of barbaric.

Cladius noticed a shadow move behind the branches. Two small bear cubs hid, moaning like lost puppies.

“Come on, Cladius, the coup de grace, please,” Larius said, snapping his fingers.

Cladius felt his stomach sink.

“This is barbaric,” he said, trying to keep his nausea at bay. “Never talk to me about this wretched activity again.”

Larius laughed, climbing down his saddle, then arranging his hair. He walked toward the beast, put one sandal-bound foot on its body and pulled his spear out. Dark blood splattered around. The beast lie dead and its eyes lost their lustre.

“Pontus,” Larius talked to his fellow hunter, a Kaltanian man with long hair and a braided-beard. The hunter braced and his horse neighed as if in fear. “Kill the young ones.”

“Aye, sire,” the barbarian responded in a coarse accent. He shut one eye, put an arrow on his bow and shot at the hidden cubs. A dreadful moan was heard, and Cladius shook his head in disgust.

“The cubs too?” he stuttered and nervously ran his hand through his curly hair. No one answered why.

And all for a bear skin rug.

Or was there another reason for the hunt?

“You shall get used to it in time, old friend,” Larius said as he wiped the blood off the tip of his Gadalian spear. Cladius noticed the intricate design; on the tip, he saw a metal relief of the Gadalian Bear Goddess, the one they called the Brown One. Cruel irony, or an even crueller choice.

“You like Gadalian metalwork, do you not?” Larius asked.

“I do,” Cladius muttered. Why did he ask that question? Did he know of his ties with the artisan guild?

“Of course you do,” Larius chuckled. “What’s there not to like? They are good, those wretches.” He sighed, examining the tip of his shiny lance, as if frowning at the bloodstains that got stuck in the detailed reliefs. “Anyway. Now that we’re talking about it; I have news for you. Good ones for me. For you, you will have to get used to the changes.”

“What news? What changes?” Cladius raised an eyebrow.

“This morning, dear Senator Cladius, my greatest hunt will begin. This will culminate my life’s work.”

“Hunt? Governor, what are you talking about?”

“My friend. Trust me, it will be the greatest deed on my command. For the good of our own people.”

Another arrow flew from a Kaltanian bow. Another bear cub gone. Cladius looked away.

“Trust you with what?” he asked Larius, unable to hide the disgust from his face.

“Two hundred miles from here, at this time, a special legion has entered the largest Gadalian village in the province I govern, back in Tharcia. They will clean it. No men left. The next day we’ll pay a visit to the tribes beyond the river. The Gadalian menace will be no more.”

A sudden sense of dread filled Cladius’ heart.

“Larius, what are you talking about?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Good goldsmiths they are,” Larius said, rubbing the emblazoned tip of his spear, wiping the smallest trace of blood. “Great archers. But their hearts are not set on this Sacred Empire.” Larius suddenly fixed his eye on Cladius, his expression changed, his smile faded, as if he were evoking an ancient crime. “Remember the sacking of our great Capital? Remember how they burned our cities, how they raped our women, how they killed our children? I know for a fact they plan to do it again.”

“Larius, that was fifteen years ago! No… Larius, they are forging your swords, raising your cattle. Are you...?”

“Yes. No survivors. Today we will feast on their sacred bear and drink the wine of Zerunos. Their conspiracy will be thwarted before noon.”

“Larius, you cannot be serious. There is no conspiracy. I have contacts in the province, and I can tell you for a fact that…”

Larius spurred on and laughed, turning his back on Cladius as the Kaltanian men dismounted, their blonde braids shaking in the wind, and went to dismember the she-bear.

“You will thank me later.” The senator smiled, turning back his horse for an instant. His brown hair fluttered slightly, and his scar made him look more sinister, like the bloodthirsty god of the underworld. “They’re on their way, my friend. Now, if you may, come to my villa, and let’s have a drink.”