Satin Rose and the Witch Hunters

29. Weight of Responsibility.

It was hard to one of the few Hunters that actually hunted. Most were content to wait for further orders and laze around at camp. Even some of my superiors were docile, giving out only routine checks and assignments that were different than if we were common soldiers. We were elite. We were the best. We were Hunters. The only reason there haven't been any recent Dragons sightings is because we haven't been looking hard enough. But today, with this bird, it was going to be different.

I had had a hunch when news came that the castle was inviting one and all to see dresses. It was suspicious to an unfathomable degree. First off, the invitation to one and all was an obvious lie. No one could have passed through those gates without a certain level of prestige and a healthy amount of interrogation. And second, what was so special about a few outfits that they would have been worth the sight? If I wanted to see bolts of cloth, then the local marketplace was the choice.

The only reason I had come in the first place was to put these suspicions to rest, however, never in my wildest dreams would I have connected it to the incident at the fountain circle. That had earned me a scolding from commander Sting. My warning to the crowd had apparently incited a stampede that had to be contained while the queen was just over in the next street. It was a little unwarranted if you ask me, how was I suppose to know the whereabouts of royalty at all times? Then I wasn't able to catch the bird. Commander didn't seem to realize the significance of that. Ravens just don't spontaneously burst out of stone fountains and I fluked getting the evidence needed for it. There was no way I could have convinced Sting of the magical-ness of it all and so I accepted his shouts silently after my initial report.

Luckily Cammie had held onto the first bird that I had thrust into her arms. She had never shown signs of being above the others before, this had to be noted. The girl gave the bird back without any hassle and my inspection of it began almost immediately. Dark with a sheen like oil it had been fairly weak back then, it must have been a Wizards Familiar. I had never seen one before, yet it was fair to assume so based on the stories I had researched. The raven never showed any signs of being out of the ordinary though other than its persisting weakness. No matter what stimulus I'd give it, magical or otherwise, the thing would just continue to drop its head, interesting nothing that wasn't water or food. And so that was a dud and here we were.

Tying the bird up was a sinch, carrying it back attracted unwanted eyes which was fine until I realized that anyone of these bystanders could be a wizard in disguise. Suddenly the bored looks on the guards stationed at the gate turned into menacing glares as I raced passed. My pockets and extra pockets were filled with everything a survivalist needed, flint, iron, string, pencil, knife. No sack though. Gotta make a mental note.

There was of course the possibility that the one I was holding onto now was as mundane as his partner. Either way the only options were it was magical or it was not. This'll just be filed into another learning experience for when the real magic shows up. You could never be too sure though, never.

I was going at a slight jog on the road going back to town, holding tight onto the bird when I a discarded sack on the roadside. Snatching it, I stuffed the bird then raced back to base camp as fast as my legs could carry me without anymore trouble. Perfect! My luck was finally picking up.

As I came near the inn, I slowed down and walked in as casually as I could possibly muster. The actual base camp was beyond the city walls, but how could they expect me to function at my very best if I had to content with my group mates for a spot around the campfire or eat charred rabbit because someone else was in charge of cooking duty. No, this was optimal. A room with a warm bed, free breakfast (if you woke up early), and privacy unmatched. I would simply hike to camp, report in each morning, then watch the envious eyes of my colleagues as I strolled back into town. The little bell rang, there seemed to be a little bell on every shop now. Nodding to the bartender cleaning his cups then sauntering up the stairs before he could even raise an eyebrow. One could never be too sure of spies.

Kicking the door of my room open, Dutchess, my lazy tabby cat, stretched languidly having probably not moved from her sleeping position since I had left. She was lying next to the upside-down wooden crate that trapped the first bird. It wasn't the most luxurious room ever, but it served its purpose. Chest, bed, lamp, chair, and most importantly, table.

I cleared the desk of my notes and unloaded the sack on the table. The new raven had been squawking when I had ran out of the palace. Halfway to this in though it silenced itself and continued to be here. It stared at me with its shiny eyes. This one had more of a blue shade to it, wonder if that was a sign of how magical it was. I haven't actually seen a lot of ravens so I wasn't sure how veritable my claim was.

It stared at me unblinding as I tied him down with some rope from my knapsack.

"You don't think I recognize you," I said to myself while knotting. "But my eyes are perceptive."

The bird tilted its head so that one eye was trained on me. It was tightly bound to the table, feet in the air and wings tucked to its sides.

My hands slammed the table shaking it, the raven was obviously still breathing. Deafness was a possibility, never heard of a deaf bird before though. "Can't talk or won't talk."

Not a sound, this was starting to become unnerving. I grunted to refocus myself. This simply called for another approach.

"Don't worry, I have my methods."

Leaving the table and opening the chest lid, in here was everything I had ever collected to either detect or incite magical activity. Night had fallen and I had no intention of stopping until dawn.