The time had finally come. The day had been far from flawless, and Owain intended to see that the people responsible for today's problems were dealt with in a suitable fashion. But for now, none of that mattered.
The emperor of the forest had been brought before him, and now, that emperor would fall to his blade.
"It's time," Owain said, glancing briefly at a nearby servant who raced forward to take the heavy, fur cloak from Owain's shoulders. Underneath the cloak, Owain wore a fine quilted gambeson, half dyed blue and the other half yellow to match the Lothian banners waving in the faint winter breeze.
The gambeson was his only concession to his station during this hunt. He would have preferred to face the elk without armor at all, but a marquis couldn't take as many risks with his life as the heir to the throne could. Even though to Owain, this didn't feel like a risk at all.
