Arc II, Chapter 44

"This is a waste of time."

Flicking an annoyed look in Trowa's direction, I trudged onwards through the undergrowth. My friend's complaining was nothing unusual; he had never been fond of aristocratic pastimes like the Capital Hunt, preferring mostly to hunt for sustenance rather than glory. Given how he'd been raised and what he'd experienced on the battlefield, his viewpoint was one shared with many of my knights.

And it wasn't like I ever particularly disagreed. Hunting had been a hobby my father had indulged in, and one that I was expected to take up as the Duke of Yuy. Trowa and the others followed along at my behest, but it was hardly an activity we actively enjoyed.

But I was going to honor my promise to Duo, and nothing was surer to win me the prize than impressive game.

"It's either going to be three foxes, three deer, two mountain lions, or one wild boar," I told him with finality. Even though I had not participated in the Capital Hunt in years, I was a good judge of my competition's skills - and the only real competition this time was Count Otto, last year's victor, or Solo Maxwell, if he was in the mood.

Remembering that both men were out and about in these woods made me want to change the aim of my hunt.

"What are we even tracking right now?" Wufei asked, subtly checking his inner pockets for the ribbon Meilan had thrown to him prior to the start of the hunt. He'd tucked it out of view so that the only ones who knew about its existence were those of us who had been watching as Meilan practically chucked the thing into his face earlier - and the amused glee that had put on Duo's face was as sweet a sendoff as any.

"Fox," Trowa replied, shrewd green eyes canvassing the forest floor.

I glanced back down at my wrist where Duo had tied his ribbon - himself - to me. I had half a mind to put it away in my pocket as well to keep it clean, but it was tradition to keep them tied around the wrist so that it symbolized a collaborative effort on behalf of the participant and their well-wisher.

Quatre lightly bumped his shoulder into mine. "Do you like it? He'd agonized over what design to do for ages."

The idea of Duo with his face pinched in concentration, dexterous fingers alight in motion as he carefully stitched in every blooming fold of the iris, was enough to put a smile on my face. It was my first time receiving a ribbon, and I was honored that it had been given to me by Duo.

"I'll treasure it," I said, smoothing over the fabric with a finger. I'd just have to kill with my other hand, but that shouldn't be too hard.

Trowa paused in his trek, looking up and eastward for a short moment. "There are people up ahead," he intoned quietly. "They're likely tracking the fox as well."

The Capital Hunt was not a lawless zone, which meant we had only two options available to us if we were hunting the same game as another group: change our mark or challenge them for it. If we changed marks, it would just mean we'd leave the other group to hunt the fox and find something else; if we challenged them, then it would be a race to see who could kill the fox first.

While I had no issue with challenging them for the fox, I wasn't keen on announcing our presence to any of the annoying aristocrats currently traipsing through these woods. Not to mention, while a fox was worth a good amount of points, it was hardly the most stunning of game that could be found in these woods.

"...Change," I decided. I'd rather try to scout out for wild boar than have to talk to the nuisances up ahead.

We'd spent a good hour heading further southeast, Trowa having caught onto several tracks, primarily of game hen, deer, and the occasional fox. We'd also avoided interaction with more than seven other hunting groups at the time, though to my irritation, I'd glimpsed Count Otto among the number. (He'd fetched himself a large red-tailed deer and seemed satisfied with himself. Fool.) The time was starting to dwindle, however, and I'd have to find something decent soon.

"Boar tracks," Trowa finally, blessedly announced, crouched beside a withered log. I fully ignored the sparks that danced at the edge of his fingers, too relieved by the good news, though Quatre moved forward to briefly squeeze his husband's hand.

It's easy enough to spot the boar as we came upon it. It was surprisingly massive given the land it roamed on, nearly six feet in length and greater than three adult men combined in weight, snuffing around the undergrowth without much care. Hunting came almost laughably easy to us, made all the more unfair with Trowa's heightened sense of kinship with the wild.

The mercenaries he used to run with did their fair part in hunting and providing for themselves, and Trowa had taken to those skills like a duck to water. This had only been made more impressive once Heavyarms had been introduced; what had been superb hunting skills grew to simply unnatural levels, to the point where his tracking abilities could only be explained by means beyond human capabilities.

Killing, of course, came easily to all four of us.

It did not take much to corner and slay the wild boar. If the others had been feeling particularly vindictive, the process could have been drawn out to cruel lengths, but my friends were not those types of people. In the interest of making it quick and clean, I simply slid my sword through the top of the boar's skull, hard bone giving way to Wing's strength and piercing straight through the brain.

As I wiped the blood from my blade, the others made quick work of trussing up the boar carcass with rope and thick branches to better transport it. Although any one of us could drag it back to camp, it'd be easier to carry it between two people given the size. Not to mention, the last time we'd slain a large animal and dragged it back one-handed, it'd kickstarted so many campsite rumors from the soldiers that I'd been forced to ask Duke Maxwell to quell them before they reached the ears of Sanc's nobility.

A rustle from nearby was the only warning of someone approaching, and when Solo Maxwell finally emerged into our line of sight, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd done it on purpose. The others paused in their movements, watching the man emerge from the shade of the trees, seemingly unperturbed by the blood of the boar staining the underside of his boots. Duo's ribbon was tied tauntingly around his wrist, immediately drawing my eyes as my mood quickly soured.

Duo's brother was vexing in many ways, and his skills only further exacerbated that perception. It could be argued that Solo Maxwell served as the perfect and most contemptible representation of the Maxwell province. Even now, after all these years, I wasn't sure if his lack of fear of death was due to his belief in the Harvester or some twisted byproduct of his personality. If Duo was everything good about the province, then Solo was the sum total of the opposite.

"I'm not interested in conversing with you," I said, apropos of any greeting.

There was no point in wasting formality on this man. Duke Maxwell could at least be counted on to follow a thin veneer of politeness; Solo would play along, so long as it was understood he was laughing at you the entire time underneath that false smile.

"As if you were gifted in the art of conversation, Duke Yuy," Solo replied tartly. "I'd have more interesting talks with this dead boar."

What an unlikeable bastard.

"To be graced with the honor of your presence is its own gift, Master Solo," Trowa intoned dryly from where he was wrapping rope around the boar's legs. If Trowa's relationship with Duo could be described as volatile, his association with Solo could be considered viciously hateful. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"You're welcome for the honor, Commander Barton." Solo Maxwell also knew the best way to annoy my friend was to agree with his sarcastic quips.

Before Trowa could respond to that, Quatre laid a placating hand on his lover's arm. Solo hardly paid the interaction any mind, instead maneuvering around the girth of the boar as he tread closer to where I stood. I found myself irritated by the closing distance but knew better than to make mention of it; that would only further exacerbate it and prolong this unwanted interaction. The sooner Solo explained his reason for approaching us, the sooner he'd leave.

"What is it?" I huffed out, making to clean the gore from my sword.

Admittedly, it had not always been like this between myself and Solo Maxwell. I had never been under some delusion he was a friend, of course - but as a brother-in-law, he'd been supportive. Even when Duke Maxwell threatened my life in the confines of his office at the start of my engagement with Duo, Solo had not been party to it. Perhaps the elder Maxwell son had been too busy torturing the poor souls in the Maxwell estate's dungeons; Quatre himself had visited the estate only once and had been unsettled by whatever he felt emanating from its bowels.

Solo Maxwell held me with a sort of candid confidence that he held few others in, though with every passing day, I wondered if that was a good thing. Information was gleaned from thousands of dying words by the Maxwell family, and Solo parroted these words back to me with a discretion born from sadistic amusement rather than necessity. Without my tie to Duo, I knew I would be working against more than my husband's dislike if I found myself not in the Maxwell family's favor.

It was for this reason that I could not understand the future Duo saw. If Duo died, I had no use to the Maxwell family. If I had been the one to initiate the courtship and engagement to Relena Darlian, if I had then agreed to the marriage with her - I had essentially spat on Duo's grave in their eyes. To have failed in such a way that I caused Duo's death, and then have Duke Maxwell and his heir support my marriage to another...

Solo Maxwell's gaze met my eyes. "General Daigo Onegell is dead."

I stilled.

Daigo Onegell was the general of Oz's standing army and one of the most influential figures in Oz today. His seat of power was equivalent to that of a Duke's, though he had been considered too old to be a candidate for Duo's marriage - older than even my father, though he had often crossed swords with him on the battlefield before.

However, the General of Oz was not often found in battle unless it involved major powers from the continent. Both Sanc and Lagrange had been quiet, just as Romefeller and Oz had been; ever since Colonel Une had slain my father in the last battle between our countries, we'd entered another period of standstill wherein everyone handled skirmishes at the borders or in puppeteered encounters in the barbarian territories.

"How?" I asked quietly.

"Murdered," Solo said. "He disappeared from Oz's capital and his body was found a week later, near an outpost in their western region. He was dismembered but left otherwise unmarked; once they saw the head, he was easy to identify."

Solo's smile grew. "He was alive when he was dismembered. He didn't pass until they chopped most of his limbs off."

I didn't ask for further detail about how Solo knew. For all I know, Solo could have been personally present and enjoying the situation as one would a theatre show.

"General Onegell had plenty of enemies, inside and outside of Oz, so it's no surprise someone finally got him. What's strange is that no one's heard about the group now taking credit for it," Solo continued. "Does the name 'White Fang' mean anything to you?"

I scanned the faces of my friends. Quatre and Trowa remained inert, simply looking back at me in a nonverbal indication that they did not recognize the name as given. But it was Wufei who reacted, dark eyes flicking from my face to the bloodied cranium of the boar.

He knew something, then.

"I don't recognize it," I told Solo in all honesty.

I would hear out what Wufei had to say later. If it was valuable, I would share the information with Duo's kin - but there remained things about me and my friends that even my husband's family were not privy to. I could not chance Solo and his vile amusements ruining what little progress I had made with Duo.

"Neither do we," Solo said, and before I could wonder if that was a lie or not, he continued with a brighter smile. "You got Duo's ribbon dirty."

I glanced down at my wrist: a few drops of boar blood had splattered on the ribbon. I scowled at the mess; blood on silk ruins the fabric and wouldn't come out even with water. I hadn't even realized there had been backsplatter.

"He personally embroidered that for you, didn't he? You've ruined all his hard work."

I chose not to respond to that comment. Why give Solo what he wants? "If that's all, then let's part ways here. The Hunt is almost over; you'll have nothing to show at this rate," I scoffed at him.

I hated the smile that quirked Solo's lips at my words. Many people claimed that the Maxwell brothers were very similar, especially in their smiles, but I could never see it. Even Duo at his most miserable could never look half as horrible as Solo did. It was an insult to my husband to even compare him to the likes of his older brother.

"Don't worry," Solo waved off, though he finally began moving away. "I'd never disappoint Duo."

Just terrify him, I thought uncharitably.

Solo left as quietly as he came, treading further into the undergrowth with steps that had no right to be as soundless as they were. He faded from view quickly within the shadows of the woods, and only after several minutes had passed did we resume our previous activities. I needed to only flick an inscrutable glance in Wufei's direction to receive an understanding nod, the action enough for both Trowa and Quatre to clue in.

"It's not substantive, but it may be relevant," Wufei began, roughly binding the ropes together for easier maneuverability. "There were stories back... Back in my hometown. We had grown up on stories of Nataku's tales, often about great battles waged against the foul and demonic."

Wufei hesitated for a moment. It had become easier, over time, for him to tell us bits and pieces of his last home; we already knew of the devastation that had burned LíngÈrLíngLiùzhèn to rubble, that had reduced a proud line of warriors to a mass grave at Oz's hands. Wufei had married into Meilan's line, had been the one to put himself between her and her birthright for the simple reason of wanting to save her.

Our first meeting had been difficult, in ways so different from Trowa or Quatre. Wufei was the only one that had ever made me think that I would have to fulfill the promise I'd made them. There was something about Meilan's 'Nataku' that simply loitered far too close to the surface, volatile and abrasive. I had wondered, once, if this notion of 'justice' that Shenlong obsessed over was something that started after the cruelty suffered by the people who had worshipped it.

Wufei continued, "Nataku defeated nearly all of her foes, rightfully as the incarnation of justice. But there were some that she did not. And these were the most troublesome sort," Wufei's eyes flickered to me and then away. "They who could not be defeated, no matter how hard she fought."

Wufei held up one finger. "The one borne from the right limb of the First Deity, a wing from which sprung all life."

A second finger. "The one borne from the left limb of the First Deity, a scythe that ensures all things must end."

A third finger. "The one borne from the claws of the First Deity, a multitude of blades from which all living beings learned to kill."

A fourth finger. "The one borne from the shelled back of the First Deity, a shield upon which all living beings learned to guard their hearts."

A fifth finger. "Nataku was borne from the head of the First Deity, an unending fire that served as the culmination of wisdom and justice," Wufei said. "She could not defeat her siblings - but only because the First Deity loved them too much to allow them to quarrel."

Trowa let out a low chuckle, too brittle to be a proper scoff. It was obvious to us, at the very least, what these siblings referred to. To hear that the cruel hand Trowa had been dealt was something that could be loved was laughable.

Wufei closed his hand into a fist, acknowledging Trowa's aside with a small nod. "In Nataku's battle against her second-born sibling, the Deathscythe, the First Deity intervened and was dealt a heavy blow that resulted in the loss of a single tooth - a white fang."

Wufei looked at me. "And it is from this white fang that Libra grew."

Within the cavern of my chest, I felt Wing heave in fury.

- - - - -

The air had chilled somewhat in the late afternoon, though we still had a few hours to go before the sun could sink below the horizon. The Hunt required daylight to better assess the prized game, which was why speed was just as essential as skill when it came to winning. This in turn could make some participants careless, too eager to snag the best prey and instead losing them through common mistakes.

It was a bit unfair, if I thought about it. Nobles could bring skilled trackers as part of their retinue, of course, but Trowa's advantage over even the most seasoned of veterans made hunting almost laughably easy. Even after being harassed by Solo Maxwell, we still had time to snag two red-tailed deer and other smaller game to add to our collection. He'd also discovered bear tracks, but I decided against it; Duo had enough bad memories about that particular predator from our trip here, and I wasn't going to bring that back to mind by giving him more bear pelt.

We were among the last ones back. Though I knew we were all worried about leaving Duo and Meilan alone too long at camp, it would look far too strange to have successfully hunted such large prey in a short time, so we purposely delayed our trek back to ensure it was a reasonable timeframe. This allowed for us to return to a campground that was now fully set up for the end of the competition, ladies and dandies sitting prettily atop a single row of comfortable chairs brought just for this portion of the hunt.

Duo was naturally among the number of gentlefolk. The sun still hung bright in the sky at this hour, highlighting the warm tones of chestnut in his hair and glistening off the decorative hair ornaments I'd personally gifted him. The dark blues and glittering golds of his clothing briefly drew my attention back to the ribbon around my wrist once again, warmth pooling in my gut at the reminder of how much Duo had thought about me.

The banner of the Yuy family stood behind his chair, Meilan to the left of it with a mighty glower that had little effect on the noble to Duo's immediate right - Nathan Granite, dandy and third-born son of Marquis Granite. Duo himself looked at ease as he chatted with the dandy, one particular comment earning demure laughter from Granite and the lady to his right. Granite was one of Duo's known followers, but his personality and the position of his family did not meet the strict requirements Quatre had outlined when it came to those Duo would have an easier time intimidating in his current state. Despite all of our reservations, however, Duo looked unbothered to be conversing with those who had not met Quatre's pre-approved list of the easily intimidated.

With a quick glance, I took survey of the competition. There was nothing too outlandish before any of the gentlefolk yet; many of the participants were still lined up in front of the temporary platform upon which Duke Noin sat, taking turns to present their game before being led over to the gentlefolk, wherein the rest of the audience made much fanfare every time a dedication was made.

The competition was judged in two ways. One was for the participants themselves, who announced their caught game to the host - usually the royal family, but at this time, now just Duke Lucrezia Noin - and then brought their catch forward to deliver to one of the gentlefolk, usually the one who had gifted them a ribbon.

I purposely ignored the myriad of eyes turning our way as we made our way to the line, stunned gazes quickly giving in to hostility. I'd learned very early on that being good at a hobby the nobility took such pride in did not make anyone like you; it just meant their envy of your skill turned their words crueler.

"...a boar..."

"...as expected of the bastard..."

"...the only thing he's skilled at is killing, it's no wonder he..."

As usual then.

I did not often participate in activities that put me in physical competition with the nobility. For one, I saw no point; it often felt like competing with inept children. For another, I knew it only worsened things not only for myself, but for Duo; when his 'halfbreed' husband succeeded where his friends' pureblood spouses had failed, his influence on his social circle became that much more fraught.

"...Duchess was right..."

"....strong and thoughtful is such a rare combination..."

"...wouldn't mind if he held me with those muscles either..."

I stiffened briefly at the words, glancing over - only to meet speculative gazes that quickly turned away with furtive shyness. I vaguely recognized some of the speakers as well, three of whom were followers of Duo. None of the three had made it on to Quatre's pre-approved list of people who could join Duo for tea while we were away, but from the snippet of conversation I just gleaned, I worried Duo hadn't exactly followed the plan.

But also, why my muscles...?

"Interesting," Quatre murmured behind me, said in a way that spelled doom for my lovely, beautiful husband.

"It could just be the usual gossip," I felt compelled to defend.

Quatre made an agreeing sound that nonetheless felt like a threat. We both knew that the usual gossip about me in noble social circles was never about my looks, unless they meant to imply something demeaning about my mother. Given that the last fool who had insulted my mother had ended up in an honor duel with me after some vitriolic remarks from Duo - who had acted in defense of his position as someone who married into the Yuy line, we'd assumed - and then lost, no one had dared bring up my mother again.

"Let's just get through the line," Trowa muttered.

The line itself was only slow because the proper fanfare had to be made for every participant. As nobles, these people were sensitive to any perceived slights; if the servants and attendants failed to admire them to the appropriate level, it could be taken as an insult. This meant that with each presentation, time was given to list their full name and title, the type and number of prey, and to announce who they would dedicate their prizes to so that the servants could drag the catch over to the correct gentlefolk.

It was tedious.

"Your Grace, please fix your face," Quatre reminded me absently.

I scowled instead. Not because of the chastisement - the only mother hen worse than Quatre was Cathy - but because I caught sight of who was ahead of us: Count Otto.

There were still a good handful of nobles and their attendants between us, but I could see what his catch was from this vantage point. I felt my scowl turn into a small smirk; a red-tailed deer and two pheasants. The deer had several bloodied holes along its torso, likely wounded by arrows before Otto could slice its neck with his sword. The pheasants had a single bloodied mark visible among the feathers on their chests, both apparently having been felled by single arrows. It was a better result than most others in the line, but a paltry contribution nonetheless.

He couldn't even catch himself a fox; no doubt the clever creatures were too much for the woeful lack of substance between his ears.

"Your face," Quatre chimed again.

As presentations were made and catches were delivered, I chanced another look over to Duo. I startled slightly as my eyes met violet, but then Duo's lips parted in a wide, welcoming smile and I felt the annoyance melt away from my shoulders to be replaced by an eager impatience. The quicker this line moved, the sooner I could rejoin Duo.

"NEXT!"

"Introducing his lordship, Heir-Apparent of Duke Maxwell - Lord Solo Maxwell!"

I regretfully turned my gaze back up the front of the line. Solo Maxwell stood atop the presentation platform, figure sketched into a proper bow that bent the exact number of inches needed and not an inch more. The Maxwell attendants deposited his catch before Duke Noin, her pinched expression the only sign of her distaste for Duo's brother.

"Two foxes and one mountain lion!"

It was clear Solo had taken special care not to damage the foxes too heavily; their pelts could be made into luscious and beautiful coats or accessories. The mountain lion had been cleaved seemingly in half length-wise, as if he'd sliced it from nose to tail in one long swipe. I'd thought it beyond his strength to cut through the strong bone and muscle of the predator so easily, but perhaps he'd made a point of it in order to surprise me. It was within his nature to indulge in such petty slights.

"An impressive catch, Lord Maxwell," Duke Noin announced, tone seemingly sincere in its awe. "It's wonderful to see such improvement, especially upon last year's catch."

There were a few tense titters here and there at the words. I had been abroad at the time of last year's Hunt, while Duo had been confined to the provincial estate following the greenhouse fire; with both heads of the Yuy ducal house absent, we had been nonparticipants. From Noin's remarks, it appeared Solo's catch last year had been pitiful.

"I'm afraid I'm a man of strong emotions, Your Grace," Solo replied, tone honey-coated poison. "With no one to compete for, I found myself unmotivated. I was only happy to see that our dear friend Count Otto was able to finally take the title of champion himself that year."

Noin's expression didn't waver - too experienced with Solo's vexing wordplay - but I could see Count Otto's scowl darkening his face.

"Now that my dearest brother has recovered, I felt reinvigorated myself," Solo continued silkily. "I'd also like to dedicate my catch to him."

"Yes, thank you for your hard work," Noin managed out in a voice that was almost magnanimous. Solo's answering smile only caused a single twitch in her eye.

Solo departed the stage, attendants bringing along his prize as he strolled over to where Duo sat frozen in his chair. The smile from earlier was long gone and he watched his older brother approach the same way someone watches the approach of the executioner. Duo's eyes scanned the bloodied game laid at his feet, expression shuttering before he turned his head just slightly away, a nonverbal dismissal in the face of Solo's dedication.

Solo Maxwell never stopped smiling.

The line moved quicker than before, as if everyone was eager to get away now. Fortunately, celebrations were not held until the following day, which meant everyone could go home after the winner was declared and gossip to their heart's content once out of earshot. While I was not keen on the useful rumor-mongering most nobles seemed to indulge in, I was interested to hear how Duo fared while we'd been away.

"Introducing His Excellency, Count Klementz Otto!"

This time around, the smile on Duke Noin's face was genuine. As Otto was the childhood friend of the Crown Prince, it was only natural that he was also a good friend of the man's fiancee. As Noin had been educated to inherit the mantle of Duke from her father, she had also been well-trained in the sword, learning from the same master as the Crown Prince and Count Otto.

As the announcer called out Otto's game, there were appreciative murmurs from the imperialists' side for his meager offerings. This was nothing out of usual for Sanc's courts, and in fact was expected. They would even applaud a person who could only catch a single game hen so long as they were from the same political side.

"I believe Lord Maxwell had the right idea," Count Otto announced, amiable disposition on full display. "To celebrate Master Duo's successful recovery, I'd also like to dedicate my catch to him."

A long moment of silence descended at his words, and I felt the knot of smugness at the back of my mind dissolve in the face of my rising anger. He dared–?

"That's... That's a bit surprising, Count..." Even Duke Noin had been taken aback. It was more than just surprising - it was utterly unorthodox. It was one thing to dedicate game to a lady or dandy who had not even gifted one a ribbon, but to gift it to someone who was already married...

I was already stepping forward before the red had fully receded from my vision. "My husband has no need for your gifts," I interrupted, voice even despite the way I felt a vein throb angrily in my neck. My intonation on the last word made it clear that such a woeful catch was not even worthy of the title.

"I meant no disrespect, of course, Your Grace," Otto was quick to pacify, abominable smile still in place. "This is just to celebrate his good health!"

Duo could celebrate his good health with Otto's severed head at his feet.

"It's just a gesture of goodwill, Duke Yuy," Duke Noin interceded with authority. Even though she had not liked Otto's 'gesture', she would still come to his defense. With such powerful backing, it was no wonder Otto felt like he could act out. "You never know - this could be just what the Duchess wanted from the Hunt. Why don't we ask his opinion?"

A political maneuver, one with a solid and predictable end. It was unusual to offer prizes to married gentlefolk, but it was downright frowned upon for gentlefolk to refuse a dedication. It was the etiquette of the courts to not reject a gift freely given. By asking for Duo's opinion, this only ensured that Otto came out of this looking admirable for his 'gesture of goodwill' while I appeared to be a jealous and spiteful spouse.

Duo was escorted from his seat over to the platform by a pair of attendants. He had been well within earshot to hear the entire exchange, shooting me a troubled look before looking away as his expression cleared into something almost painfully familiar: bored irritation.

Noin's smile was less sincere but still gentle; despite her many misgivings, she was chivalrous to her very core and no matter how she disliked his brother, she would never be rude to a dandy. "Duchess, Count Otto has kindly offered to gift you his catch in honor of your recovery," she stated, all smiles and supportive implications. "While a bit unusual, I think it was done out of genuine concern and sincerity. I know everyone was very worried about your health after the accident. What say you?"

Duo's vivid violet eyes glanced at me once more, too quick to be caught by those who weren't near, before his assessing eyes turned to Otto's game laid out before him. He did not answer right away - something that made that tick in Noin's eye make a brief reappearance - but instead stepped closer to the dead animals, assessing them with blatant disinterest.

I could feel Trowa's growing amusement from behind me as Duo took his time analyzing each proffered animal: the deer got a long once-over and delicate snort, one pheasant got a subtle eyeroll, and the last pheasant earned only a click of the tongue. This went on long enough that the silence stretched painfully taut across the campgrounds. Noin's expression was souring, Otto's wooden smile a soothing balm to the torrent roaring inside of me.

"I suppose I'll welcome the gifts," Duo finally allowed, voice echoing with that same magnanimous tone that Noin had used on Solo Maxwell. "Thank you, Count Otto. It's always nice to see someone earnestly try, even if that doesn't necessarily translate into success."

There was a soft huff of inaudible laughter behind me, along with a hissed "Barton!"

Duke Noin hurriedly tried to regain control before Count Otto lost any more face. "Y-Yes, well, that's good–"

"But before I receive them, I want to make note of a small mistake." Duo's words cut through her stammering, again emulating that same honeyed tone Solo used before taking the first stab. "You see, I couldn't help but notice how Count Otto referred to me earlier, when he was making his initial declaration."

Duo turned to Otto, visceral smile in place. The expression was hauntingly familiar for how often it was turned on me in the past, after the times I'd said something wrong and Duo wasn't satisfied with just scoffing at me.

"You called me 'Master Duo.' I can't help but wonder, Count - did you perhaps miss the announcement of my marriage to Duke Heero Yuy?"

Count Otto stared at him.

I stared at him. I only now realized that his expression of cutting rebuke, when turned on others, was one of the most attractive things I'd ever seen. Given that Duo was already the most breathtakingly attractive people I'd ever seen, I guess it only stood to reason that his every expression be equally alluring.

"Ah - I apologize..." Count Otto finally choked out.

Duo waited a beat, then rose an eyebrow. "...Duchess Yuy. Say 'I apologize, Duchess Yuy.' Go on."

"This seems a little unnecessary, Duchess," Noin cut in with disapproval.

Duo hardly spared her a glance. "Practice makes perfect."

There was another inaudible huff of laughter behind me, swiftly followed by a "Winner, not you too!"

"I apologize, Duchess Yuy," Otto said. I may have been imagining him grinding the words out, given the upped level of amiability in his tone, but I knew that the words caused him more than a fair amount of distress.

If things had gone the way he and Noin had angled them, he could walk out of this interaction the better person. With Duo's addition, however, it didn't matter how much Otto tried to paint himself the good-natured victim of the encounter with me; since Duo was the one doing the bullying, it only make Otto look weaker in response. There wasn't a single person here who didn't already know about Duo's vicious tongue, his sharp words often turned on those who acted against him.

Duo's patently-fake proud smile only made it all the sweeter. "That's alright, Count," he said. "I'm sure you'll remember yourself next time."

I am going to kiss this man.

Just as Noin looked ready to move things along - now that her friend had lost to both Maxwell brothers - her words could not even emerge from her throat before her eyes caught sight of a slight movement atop the platform. Immediately, I found my eyes latched in the same direction, my attention equally arrested.

One of the pheasants spasmed.

A single wing flexed out as the pheasant's body gave another sudden twitch, and something like a warble emanated from the bird. The noise it made was almost tar-like, as if its voice could not fully emerge from its throat, until it gave another full-body heave with a violent shriek. I saw Noin and Otto automatically step back in shock at the feral, un-bird-like howl, and I was already making to move forward with my hand ready to draw my sword.

Duo's foot slammed down on the pheasant's neck.

The abrupt silence lasted only several seconds more before loud chatter and nervous laughter suddenly filled the campground. There were some scattered remarks from others nearby, nobles wondering aloud how Otto had forgotten to check that his game was truly killed before presenting it. The pheasant itself remained still and silent, now obviously dead with the way its distended neck was crushed.

Duo stepped away, expression mildly disgusted as he eyed his shoe as if trying to check if he'd gotten blood on it.

Noin's previously-startled expression slowly melted away into a tired one. "...Okay. Count Otto's gift of one red-tailed deer and two pheasants–"

"One pheasant," Duo interrupted.

Duke Noin gave him a disgruntled look. "What?"

"One pheasant," Duo repeated with an imperious look. "It looks to me like I killed the other pheasant, so that makes it my catch."

I'm going to kiss this man within an inch of his life.

Noin agreed hastily, the fight having left her and clearly just wanting Duo to go away at this point. At Duo's gesture, Hilde glided onto the platform and made an extravagant display of carefully picking up Duo's 'catch', following in his steps as he made his way back to his seat.

The victorious smile he shot me as he left the platform was all Duo.