In the square, a large group of men was gathered, each dressed in various levels of adventuring gear. From humble butchers wearing thick leather coats and carrying meat cleavers as weapons, completely unprepared for the world beyond their shops, to the city guard clad in full armor and weapons and bearing the standard of the king. But no, not the king’s. Kilian looked closer. It was not the same. The queen had changed even that. Nevertheless, they all gathered for the hunt. There were a few dozen of them, maybe a third of the men in the village, Kilian guessed. He dismounted and, leaving Nigel at the stables, made his way into the band in search of its leader.
      “Is that the great Kilian Korban I see?” A familiar voice rang out above the clamor of the hunting band, which steadily grew louder as the men slowly roused themselves from sleep. Kilian turned to meet the face that belonged to the voice. He was a sturdy man with a mess of short, dirty blond hair. He was neither handsome nor repulsive, but charming in his own loud way. He appeared far more prepared for the wilds than any other there. His armor and Kilian’s were near identical, though Kilian’s was of higher quality. Both men bore the faded standard of their fallen king proudly on their armor.
      “Gabriel Page,” Kilian chuckled as he clasped arms with the man and embraced him for a moment like a brother. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
      “You just lost me a day's pay worth of wagers! I can’t believe the Baron actually managed to get you off that bloody farm of yours,” Page chuckled. “The Killmaster himself, back in action!”
      “Don’t call me that,” Kilian jabbed an annoyed finger at Page, “How many times do I have to say it before you actually listen?”
      “Right, sorry, boss. Forgot how much you hate that.”
      “And I’m not your boss. Haven’t been in a long time,” Kilian turned and walked into the crowd.
      “Whatever you say, boss,” Page whispered as he fell in step with Kilian. They pushed their way through the crowd toward the center.
      “Well, if you’re here, then I know how Kane got my name. Didn’t think you were out this far.”
      “Oh, I’m not. Just passing through. Needed the crowns. The other two are from out here, though.”
      “Anybody we know?”
      “Oh, yeah,” Page snickered.
      Kilian stopped, giving Page an apprehensive look. Page grinned and looked to his left through the crowd. “Hey! Morroe!” He shouted over the clamor. 
      Two figures whipped around to face them. As they slipped through the gaggle of villagers, dodging and weaving through every small opening in the crowd without touching any one of them, the two became more distinct. They were identical in almost every way: same black hair, same lean height, same green eyes, and the same mischievous smile. They even wore the same matching armor, identical to Page’s. Only two things marked one as different from the other: one had short hair, the other long, and one was a man, the other a woman.
      “The twins,” Kilian sighed as they enthusiastically ran up to him and Page, almost skipping, and snapped to attention on arrival. They gave sharp salutes to Kilian.
      “Peter. Jesse,” Kilian nodded to them respectively.
      “Good to see you, boss!” The twins said in unison, which was not out of the ordinary for them.
      “Well, this is certainly gonna be a lot more… interesting than I was expecting,” Kilian sighed, rubbing his brow.
      “Oh, come on, boss! It’ll be fun! Just like old times!” Page grinned as he slapped Kilian on the shoulder. “It’ll be just like that time near Rolchester. You remember that, right? We were, what… three days out from—”
      “Mister Korban?” Another voice chimed in and cut short Page’s journey into their history, which suited Kilian fine. They turned to greet the owner of the voice. He was a tall man, not particularly handsome or exceptional in any way, but his eyes were deep and filled with cunning. He wore heavy armor, not the kind meant for adventuring, that matched the design and markings of the city guard, though this armor was gilded to denote his rank, the Captain of the Guard, Kilian guessed. “I’m Captain Frieder, of the Kanesburg guard. We’ve assembled everyone who volunteered for the hunt. Baron Kane has instructed me to follow your orders for the duration of the hunt. We are ready whenever you are.”
      “No, no. I don’t—” Kilian looked around the crowd; every eye rested on him, and every voice was now silent. Kilian closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. He knew there would be no dissuading the group from seeing him as the leader now. He opened his eyes with a fire that he had not wielded in years. A warrior’s fire. “Then let’s move,” he commanded as he marched through the crowd, which parted as he passed through. “And let’s make this fast. My wife is expecting me for dinner, and I do not intend to disappoint her.” One by one, starting with his veteran comrades and the soldiers, every man fell in behind Kilian as he led them out of the village and into the wild.