King’s Wood. It was a vast affair with hundreds of rooms in the traditional bad taste of the Adran monarchy. It had originally been built of local stone and immense oaks the likes of which hadn’t grown in this area for a hundred years. Recent renovations had given it a brick façade. The kennels, a two-story building as big as the king’s stables, were visible across the southern pasture.
“Come on, Hrusch,” Tamas said. The hound dog leapt from the carriage and immediately put his nose to the ground, floppy ears dusting the gravel. Tamas felt a twinge when Pitlaugh didn’t follow Hrusch out of the carriage as he had so many years in the past. A great many things were different about the hunt this year.
Tamas entered the farmhouse and was hit by the nervous titter of uncertain conversation. He was among the last to arrive, yet there were fewer than a dozen people in the main foyer.
“Not many here, sir,” Olem said. A butler gave Olem’s cigarette a disapproving look. Olem ignored him.
“I killed ninety percent of the people who usually come,” Tamas murmured.
Tamas nodded to each of the men and women in the foyer. A couple of merchants of means, and a pair of noblemen with low enough rank to spare them the Elections. Last year they would have worn the pale breeches and dark waistcoats of those not included directly in the hunt. This year, they would wear hunt colors along with everyone else simply to fill out the numbers. Brigadiers Ryze and Abrax chatted idly with the merchants. Tamas exchanged a few words with them and thanked them for their service against the royalists. Conversations died as he passed by the minor nobility.
Lady Winceslav, dressed in colors with a dark riding habit and a black coat with a scarlet collar, swept down the stairs.
“Tamas, I’m glad you made it,” she said. Brigadier Barat, a sullen, impetuous young man that Tamas continually wanted to smack, lurked on the stairs behind her.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tamas said. “Hrusch needs something to take his mind off things.” The hound looked up from his olfactory inspection of the floor at the sound of his name. “As do I, perhaps,” he added.
“Or course,” Lady Winceslav said. “Is he in the running, then?”
Tamas scoffed. “He’ll win it. Pitlaugh was the only one to beat him last year. With the king’s kennels out of contention, it’ll be no contest.” He felt his smile begin to slide off his face and gestured for Lady Winceslav to step to the side. When they were alone in a hallway, he said, “This is a farce, Lady.”
She glared at him. “It is not, and it’s insulting of you to say so.”
“The king is dead. This hunt was his tradition. Most of the people who used to come are dead too.”
“So we should let it die with them?” she said. “Don’t deny that you enjoy these hunts.”
Tamas took a deep breath. The Orchard Valley Hunt was an annual tradition going back six hundred years and marked the beginning of St. Adom’s Festival. Tamas struggled within himself. He loved the hunt, however…
“It sends the wrong message,” he said. “We want to show the people that we’re not replacing Manhouch and his nobility with more nobles. The hunt is a noble’s sport.”
“I think not,” Lady Winceslav said. “It’s an Adran sport. Would you outlaw tennis, or polo? This is simply entertainment.” She shook her head. “Next you’ll want to outlaw masquerades, and then we’ll see how popular you are come winter, when there’s nothing else to do.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I met my wife at a ball,” Tamas said.
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. Look around, Tamas. Some of the finest merchant families of Adro are here. Even Ricard and Ondraus came. I made the invitation open to everyone in Adopest.”
“Everyone?” Tamas asked. “If that was the case, there’d be more people here, if only for the free food.”
Lady Winceslav sniffed. “You know what I mean. There are even some amateur kennelmasters here from North Johal. Freed peasants. They’re rough men, but they seem to know their hounds.” She poked Tamas in the chest with one slender, slightly wrinkled finger. “Saint Adom’s Festival cannot begin without the Orchard Valley Hunt. I simply won’t let it happen. Now, the draggers have already begun laying the scent. The hunt will begin in twenty minutes. Get Hrusch to the starting line. The stable master will have a hunter