Chapter 16 – The Lodge of Hunters
The morning air of Ashford academy was thin and sharp, carrying the scent of frost and incense.
Bells rang across the campus, a steady rhythm that marked the beginning of the first day.
The world that had looked grand under moonlight now felt colder in daylight,its beauty edged with something mechanical and cruel.
Auron was already awake when the first bell tolled. He had not slept.
The whispers of the night still clung to him: the laughter from noble dorms, the muffled sobs of commoners realizing where they had landed.
The faint pulse of his bracelet hummed beneath his sleeve, steady and silent, like a heart that refused to die.
Lucian stirred from the bunk across the narrow aisle, stretching with a groan. His noble cloak looked out of place in the crude dormitory light. "You're up early," he said, rubbing his eyes. "We've got orientation today. Classes will be divided by birth and aptitude."
"I know," Auron said. His voice was flat, but his eyes were already on the door.
Lucian sat up, frowning. "The instructors said we should report together. My family crest guarantees me entry to the noble branches. You—"
the classes in the academy were divided into -
commoner, noble, royal. one could climb up their way up if they top 10 at the end of semester
"I'll find my own way."
Lucian hesitated. "Auron, it's not weakness to use help."
Auron's gaze didn't move. "It is if the hand that offers it might one day strike you."
There was no anger in his tone it was just something colder. Lucian looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. But don't die, are going to Knight's Citadel"
"I won't," Auron said, already tying the leather strap of his dagger belt. "No."
He left the dormitory before the sun had cleared the towers.
–––
The academy was a city in itself, alive and breathing.
Roads wound through manicured courtyards, each leading to one of the seven great branches of learning. The towers rose like monuments to different visions of power.
The Mage Tower was the closest it was an obsidian spire covered in shifting runes, each symbol burning and fading like embers in a breeze. Mana shimmered around it like heat haze. Apprentices in blue robes gathered at the gates, whispering to glowing familiars.
Next stood the Craftsmen's Guildhall, a fortress of bronze and smoke. Steam hissed from the pipes that lined its walls, and the air smelled of oil and molten metal. Dwarves, gnomes, and human artificers argued over schematics sprawled across tables.
Beyond it loomed the Clerical Dome, all white marble and stained glass, sunlight refracting through prayers suspended in air. Holy knights marched in formation under banners of gold, eyes bright with zeal. Auron felt their gaze linger on him as he passed.
The Knight's Citadel was pure symmetry it had rows of students in armor, swords gleaming, instructors barking orders. The clash of steel rang like bells. They trained under banners bearing the sigils of noble houses, their discipline absolute, their pride suffocating.
Then came the Legislative Halls, shaped like a library but far more dangerous. Law scrolls floated mid-air, guarded by runic wards. Here, young nobles learned how to twist words sharper than swords. Auron passed quickly.
The Summoner's Ring was strange a circle of stone surrounded by glyphs that shimmered in every color. Spirits danced above it, translucent beasts bound by chains of light. Students stood in ritual lines, their eyes glowing with summoning runes.
Finally, at the farthest edge of the campus, half-hidden in mist and shadow, stood the Lodge of Hunters.
lucain had thought auron could opt for Knight's Citadel, but these branches where further split into different specializations and the hunters had what auron had wanted
assassinations .
"if i were want to catch them, I need to enter their world.." auron thought
hence he choose the hunters
It was nothing like the others.
Where the Mage Tower gleamed, the Lodge looked old, almost feral. Its walls were made of rough timber and bone, carved with trophies—skulls of beasts, claws as long as a man's arm, hides stretched into banners. The entrance was framed by two colossal horns, and from within came the faint smell of blood and smoke.
Auron stopped at the threshold. For a moment, he thought he heard it again—the faint roar that sometimes echoed from his bracelet.
He pushed the door open.
–––
The Lodge was vast inside, but dimly lit. Torches guttered in sconces made from rib bones. The ceiling was hung with hunting charms and beast pelts that swayed slightly, even though there was no wind.
Dozens of new recruits stood in a loose line. Most were commoners, armed with rough steel or bone knives, some trembling, some hungry-eyed. A few nobles lingered at the edges, faces twisted in distaste.
At the center stood a man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his cloak stitched from the hides of monsters. His face was weathered, scarred from jaw to temple, his eyes sharp as an eagle's. He leaned on a spear carved from black wood.
"Welcome to the Lodge of Hunters," he said, voice like gravel rolling down a mountain. "I am Instructor Halbrecht. If you came here seeking glory, you're already dead. If you came seeking power, you might yet live long enough to regret it."
A nervous laugh ran through the crowd. It died instantly when his gaze swept over them.
"You are not soldiers," Halbrecht continued. "You are predators. You will stalk what others fear. You will kill what knights pray never to meet. And if you hesitate, the forest will feed on your bones."
He pointed to a boy standing near the front a slender half-elf with black hair tied in a braid, a scar running down his cheek. "Name."
"Rin Vareen," he said quietly.
"Background?"
"Street thief. Drafted by the city guard for tracking work."
Halbrecht's lip curled faintly. "A thief, then. You'll do."
He turned his gaze elsewhere, landing briefly on Auron. For a heartbeat, their eyes met. Something flickered there maybe recognition, maybe curiosity.
"You," Halbrecht said. "Name."
"Auron Andler."
"noble?"
A pause. "No."
Halbrecht's mouth twitched not quite a smile. "Good. SurNames don't hunt. People do."
Laughter rippled softly from one side. Auron turned his head to see a tall boy leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed. His hair was red-gold, eyes bright with mockery.
"Poetic," the boy drawled. "Let's see if the street rat can hunt anything more than scraps."
Halbrecht's gaze snapped toward him. "And you are?"
"Verric Lorne. Second son of Baron Lorne, Westwatch Province."
Halbrecht's expression didn't change. "Second sons die first."
The laughter that followed was real this time
–––
The orientation ended with the assignment of mentors and teams. Auron was placed with Rin and a quiet, hooded boy named Milo who barely spoke a word. Verric was assigned to another noble squad but made sure to sneer as he passed.
Halbrecht addressed them one last time. "Your first lesson begins tomorrow at dawn. You'll track a live Gargoyle through the Graywood. If i find you before you find the Gargoyle, then... let's jsut see it tomorrow
The crowd murmured nervously.
Halbrecht's tone softened barely. "In the Lodge, strength is survival. But remember: a lone hunter dies fast. Learn each other's scent. Learn each other's silence. That's how you live."
As the students began to disperse, Auron lingered. His gaze roamed across the walls, the trophies, the runes carved into the floor. They weren't decorative. They were seals binding circles to contain something far older than beasts.
Halbrecht's voice came from behind him. "You've seen one before, haven't you?"
Auron turned slowly. "What?"
"That kind of rune." Halbrecht stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "You didn't flinch when you saw the mark of the Beast Sigil. Most commoners don't even recognize it."
Auron hesitated. "My grandfather taught me some things."
Halbrecht's expression darkened, as if weighing something. "Then he was either a fool or a fighter."
"Both," Auron said quietly.
The instructor studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Good. Keep that memory. The Lodge will try to take it from you."
Auron frowned. "Why?"
Halbrecht's answer was a whisper. "Because to become a true hunter, you must learn to kill the part of you that hesitates to kill."
–––
When Auron left the Lodge, the sun had climbed high above the academy towers. Students filled the courtyards, laughter echoing against stone. Nobles walked in clusters, their paths lined with attendants.
From the upper terraces, Edran Voss watched the Hunter's Lodge with mild interest. "So the gutter boy chose the hounds' den," he mused.
One of his followers chuckled. "Fitting. Maybe the beasts will eat him before exams."
Edran's smile was thin. "Maybe. Or maybe they'll make him sharper. I've seen that look before, the kind that cuts deeper than bloodlines."
He turned away, eyes glinting. "Let's see if Ashford can tame him before I decide to break him myself."
–––
Auron returned to the dorms late that evening. His muscles ached, though he hadn't fought yet. His mind raced with thoughts of what he'd seen the bones, the runes, Halbrecht's words.
He sat on his bed, staring at his bracelet. The lion's emblem flickered faintly, as if it approved.
Outside, the wind howled through the academy's towers, sounding almost like laughter or a warning.
Auron didn't know which.
But one thing was certain.
Tomorrow, the hunt would begin.