Two alicorns, each striking in their own peculiar way, made their way through the rugged landscapes of Pythonia. They had set out from the ancient stronghold of Alykarn and now traveled toward the borderlands of Fulmenia, where storms brewed as if in warning. The younger of the two, unmistakably Fulmenian with the electric fervor in his every step, moved with boundless energy, prancing as though the journey itself were some grand adventure. His eyes danced with curiosity as he peppered his companion with questions, his words a torrent as unstoppable as the winds that swept the plains.
"Velza…Vel," he began, his voice bright with excitement. "You're a different kind of Protector, aren't you? I've met Harmonizers and Weapon Masters, but Bounty Hunters…they're a mystery to me. What do they [i]do[/i], exactly? They're newer, right? My parents said they didn't even exist a few dozen cycles ago."
Velzael strode ahead with steady grace. She did not break her gaze from the horizon, though her ears swiveled to catch her apprentice's eager questions. A sigh escaped her lips—one of mild exasperation, tempered with the faintest hint of amusement.
"Bounty Hunters aren't exactly the sort to revel in company," she said, her tone measured, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "Not like Harmonizers or Weapon Masters. There are exceptions, of course—once, I knew a Fulmenian who traveled with a party of three, each of them a different Protector type. But exceptions only prove the rule. We're…not what you'd call popular."
Feyn hung on her every word, his sky-blue eyes wide with wonder. For all his youthful energy, it was clear he was hungry for knowledge, his thirst for understanding, a spark that would carry him far—if it didn't burn him out first.
"But why are Bounty Hunters so new?" he pressed, his tone insistent. "What's changed to make them necessary?"
Velzael's gaze darkened, her steps slowing as though the weight of her answer bore down on her. "The peace of past cycles has withered," she said at last, her voice quieter now, edged with something that might have been sorrow. "No one knows why, not truly. The kingdoms remain untouched by great wars, thanks to the Pantheon. Yet more alicorns turn rogue with every passing cycle—some consumed by madness, others by greed or malice. Destruction follows in their wake, and the old ways were no longer enough to stop them. So the Bounty Hunters were created, forged from necessity. We hunt what others cannot."
She turned then, her sharp, sapphire gaze falling on her young companion, as if to ensure her words had landed. But Feyn had fallen behind, his steps faltering as he caught his breath. His ears, however, remained pinned forward, straining to absorb every syllable. When he realized she was watching him, he scrambled forward, his expression sheepish.
"Sorry," he murmured, his voice small, though the fire in his spirit remained undimmed.
Velzael's lips curved in a faint smile, almost imperceptible. "Keep up, Feyn," she said, her tone softening. "You've much to learn, and the road ahead is long."
Feyn's voice carried a note of caution, his words measured as if walking a tightrope. "I've often heard alicorns speak of Bounty Hunters…but not kindly. They seem wary—fearful, even—because Bounty Hunters hunt other alicorns. Why would you choose such a path, knowing how others see it?"
He kept his gaze on Velzael, wary of her reaction. He didn't know her well enough to gauge how such a question might land, but his curiosity had overpowered his hesitation.
Velzael's stride didn't falter, but there was a subtle shift—a tightening in her frame so slight it could have been missed by any but the most observant, and the young Fulmenian was one of them. "We all have our reasons," she replied, her voice stiff, words clipped. "Personal reasons, mostly."
The finality in her tone was unmistakable, and Feyn's ears flicked back, a clear sign he'd noticed the change in her demeanor. He nodded quickly, choosing not to press the matter. Their journey continued in silence for a time, the quiet filled only by the gentle crunch of hooves and paws against the winding path. The landscapes of Pythonia stretched out before them, tranquil and open, though the looming shadow of the Slitherroots Woods ahead promised that such peace would not last.
Velzael slowed her steps, casting a glance at her young companion. She could see his weariness, the way his earlier enthusiasm had begun to wane under the weight of their journey and the skirmish at dawn. She came to a stop, her tail flicking in a gesture for him to do the same.
"We'll rest here," she said, her voice softened by practicality. "You spent too much energy earlier, and we've been traveling for half the day. We need to regain our strength before entering the Slitherroots."
Feyn let out a relieved breath, nodding as he sank to the ground. He rummaged through his bag, producing a few simple provisions and breaking off a piece of a cracker to offer her. "Here," he said, his tone brightening with a touch of eagerness. As Velzael accepted it, he ventured another question, his curiosity undiminished.
"My father told me about Virtusians once," he began. "He said they have their own distinctions, like how Fulmenians are either canines or felines. What kind are you, if I can ask?"
Velzael took the cracker, a faint smile touching her lips at his persistence. "I'm a Child of Nanlean," she answered. Then, with a glimmer of challenge in her sapphire gaze, she added, "Do you know the other three?"
Feyn's paw rose to his chin, his face scrunching in thought as he tried to summon the names from memory. "Fafnyr…Gurael…and, um…something starting with an S?" he guessed, casting an imploring look at her for help.
Velzael chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Close enough. The first two are correct—the Children of Fafnyr are indeed the most common, followed by the Children of Gurael. The last you're looking for are the Children of Saeris."
Feyn nodded enthusiastically, his tail flicking in satisfaction at having nearly gotten it right. The moment of respite stretched between them, a quiet camaraderie forming as they rested before the next leg of their journey.
"I learned about the types of heroic magic too!" Feyn exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement now that the conversation had veered toward a subject he was eager to prove himself knowledgeable about. "They're kind of like the magic other alicorns use, right? Fafnyr's magic is similar to Ardenian's Flame magic, and Gurael's is like the Sand magic of the Saburians. And the last two—those resemble the Ventians' magic, correct? Split into wind and water? Wind for Saeris, water for Nanlean?"
His enthusiasm spilled over as he spoke, his youthful energy palpable. But then his gaze flicked to Velzael's wings, and curiosity once again got the better of him. "I've never seen a Nanlean Virtusian before," he blurted out. "Your wings…they're different, aren't they?"
Realizing too late that his comment might have been less than polite, his ears flattened against his head, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Velzael shook her head slightly, a subtle reprimand in the gesture, though she softened it by responding.
"We Children of Nanlean are only a few," she said, her tone steady but tinged with an unmistakable sorrow. "Our differences—like those of the other Children of Heroes—are most apparent in our draconic forms. But you're not entirely wrong. They say King Virtus himself is a blend of all four lineages."
She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "There's a legend, one told in Virtusian culture, about four great heroes—each representing one of the subspecies. Of course, it's just a story, meant to make it easier to explain to youngs like you," she said, smirking faintly as she glanced at him, the warmth of her teasing cutting through the weight of her earlier words.
"I'm not a child anymore, though," said Feyn, giving her a sheepish smile in return, silently hoping his curiosity wouldn't earn him harsher rebuke. He sipped from his water flask, but it was clear his questions were far from finished. After a moment, he ventured another, his tone cautious but still laced with hope.
"When I was learning about Virtusians, I came across a story about a former Paladin," he began, his gaze flicking to her. "Something called the 'Shadeholdt Case?' I asked my mother about it, but she wouldn't talk about the other Paladin involved. And my father said he didn't know enough to explain it. Do you know anything about it?"
His words hung in the air, the anticipation in his eyes unmissable. He clearly hoped Velzael could shed light on the mystery that had plagued his thoughts.
Velzael tilted her head slightly, a hint of stupefaction flashing in her eyes. "I'm surprised you don't know this story, especially given that your mother is a Paladin," she said, her voice calm but tinged with mild curiosity. "It's not just any tale—it's a cornerstone of Virtusian lore, particularly among Bounty Hunters."
She paused, giving him a moment to process her words before continuing. "The [i]Shadeholdt Case[/i] is the reason the Ruby rank exists today. It all started with a Virtusian Paladin who was tasked with dismantling a guild of rogue alicorns. The Paladin's name has been lost to time—or perhaps deliberately hidden. If you're curious, you might want to ask your mother about it," Velzael added, deftly steering the conversation toward his family, clearly aiming to shift the focus away from herself.
"Speaking of your mother," she said, her gaze flicking to his paws, "you're built differently from her, aren't you? If I recall correctly, she has Feline front paws—stronger than yours. I wonder what it would be like to spar against her…"
Feyn glanced down at his paws, lifting one to inspect it as if comparing it anew. "You're right," he said with a grin. "My sister inherited the same Feline strength—she's even more muscular than you! But," he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, "she's nowhere near as fast as I am."
The young Fulmenian chuckled, his tail swishing with the memory of countless pranks. Velzael's ears perked up in amusement, her lips curving into a faint smile as she listened to his stories.
"I love to mess with her," Feyn continued, his excitement bubbling over. "Once, I stole her favorite plushie—Foo—and took off running. She couldn't catch me, not even close! And another time…" He broke into laughter, barely able to finish the tale. "I put some spice in her candy bowl. She was so flustered, she started chasing me around the house! I thought she was going to tackle me for real that time!"
Velzael chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're braver than I thought," she said, her tone light, but tinged with amusement. "Or maybe just reckless."
"Well, I guess it runs in our family," he simply answered with an innocent smile.
As Feyn carried on with his spirited tales, Velzael let her eyes drift shut, his chatter fading into the background. A quiet sorrow welled up within her, unbidden and heavy, but she shoved it aside with practiced ease as her apprentice's voice snapped her back to the present.
"The only thing I don't know," he said, his eyes sparkling with eager curiosity, "is if you're more muscular than my sister in your draconic form…Can I see it?"
Velzael raised a single brow, her lips quirking into a chuckle. "If I showed you," she said, her tone teasing, "you'd be so terrified you'd bolt straight into the Slitherroots and not stop until you were hopelessly lost among the spirits."
Feyn's jaw dropped, opening and closing like a fish out of water as he fumbled for a reply. Velzael smirked, shaking her head slightly before leaning toward him, her tone softening. "You haven't been out in the world much yet, have you, Feyn?"
The young Fulmenian's ears drooped, and he nodded, his usual energy giving way to quiet honesty. "No…not really. Masha and I went to Aemna from times to times as we live near the capital, but this…this is my first time outside Fulmenia," he admitted, glancing up at her with a hint of embarrassment.
Velzael's expression softened further, a warm smile crossing her lips. "Then let's make it a trip worth remembering," she said, rising to her hooves with quiet grace. "It's time to turn all that book knowledge of yours into something real—something the world itself teaches you."
She gestured toward the woods ahead, their twisted roots sprawling across the ground like claws reaching from the earth. The dense canopy above cast deep shadows, and the trees were so tightly packed that the view vanished into darkness after only a handful of trunks.
"Ready to enter the Slitherroots, apprentice?" Velzael asked, her sapphire gaze glinting as she looked toward the looming, mist-draped forest.