Chapter 9: The Gray Fox
* * *
Boredom was etched across Baroness Mares’ face as she gazed toward the forest. She tapped her fan on her knee, then looked back and forth between the two women sitting quietly.
“Hmm.”
‘How strange.’
Unlike her expectation of constant drama unfolding, only a muted atmosphere lingered in the air.
Women laughing and chattering, men glancing at those women. The ladies receiving the most attention sat rather composed, unfazed by the stolen glances around them.
‘It’s too peaceful.’
Especially on such a clear day.
As Baroness Mares stared vacantly at the sky, something caught her eye. A spot where several men had gathered. Perhaps that could alleviate this tedium?
With a wide smile that dimpled her cheeks, she immediately rose to her feet.
“Ladies.”
At the sudden melodious voice, the noblewomen and young ladies who had been chatting over tea turned their attention to a single point.
“On such a lovely day, are you going to just sit around?”
“My, Baroness Mares. What are you plotting that makes you look so delighted?”
When one of the noblewomen asked teasingly, Baroness Mares retorted with narrowed eyes.
“Honestly, do you think I’m always scheming something? The breeze is so pleasant, I’m just bored of sitting still.”
“The fine weather is precisely why we should savor this leisure.”
“Hehe, don’t be like that. How about a game? The hunting party won’t return for quite some time—wouldn’t it be nice for us women to stretch our limbs a bit?”
“A game? Is there something suitable for us?”
“Of course. What about cricket? It’s a men’s sport, but if we modify the rules slightly, I think we could enjoy it perfectly well.”
As Baroness Mares continued her explanation, the women, initially skeptical, began to show interest.
Though they worried somewhat about having to use their bodies rather than merely spectating, they eventually nodded one by one, persuaded by the argument that when else would they get to enjoy such an activity.
“Now then, let’s divide into teams.”
Looking at the diverse group ranging from middle-aged noblewomen to teenage girls, Baroness Mares used drawing lots to split them into two sides.
But one person who should participate was nowhere to be seen.
Baroness Mares glanced at the woman sitting demurely under the gazebo, then exchanged knowing looks with another noblewoman.
“Come to think of it, didn’t Lady Manuson injure her foot? Will you be all right?”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that since I can walk slowly without much trouble. What should we do?”
“What indeed? While I encourage women’s sports, rest must come first for an injured person, mustn’t it?”
“You’re right. I was just being too eager. Then, who should we bring instead…”
Baroness Manuson’s gaze swept the surroundings before settling on the woman under the gazebo. As the noblewomen followed her line of sight, a momentary silence fell, until Baroness Mares decisively struck her hand with her fan.
“Ladies, God has told us to love one another. As nobles, it’s our duty to embrace even the lowliest creatures—how can we reject each other?”
No sooner had she finished speaking than Baroness Mares walked toward the gazebo. Though she felt the disapproving gazes, she paid them no mind. Rather, thinking of the competitive spirits that would soon ignite among them made her want to laugh.
She extended her hand to the woman who was staring up at her.
* * *
The songbird of high society, a schemer, a woman who detested boredom above all else in life.
Lyra had been secretly anxious from the moment Baroness Mares proposed cricket. Not only was she terribly uncoordinated, but there was something unsettling about the Baroness making such a suggestion in the first place.
She had tried her best to appear disinterested, not once making eye contact, but she ultimately found herself pulled into the game by Baroness Mares’ hand.
Yet that wasn’t the end of it. Before the game began, when someone asked what prize would be awarded to the winner, Baroness Mares narrowed her eyes as if she had forgotten, and said:
“How about Lord Lianton?”
It was only natural that this caught everyone’s attention.
“What do you mean? Are you suggesting Duke Lianton as a prize?”
“Hehe, of course not.”
Gazes flew her way as if this were obvious.
“I merely mention it because our two protagonists happen to be divided on opposite sides,” she said. “So I was thinking, why doesn’t the losing side gracefully step aside? While I personally enjoy the social scene when it’s reasonably lively, you all seem quite tired of it already.”
Words whispered with serpentine cunning.
“Would Duke Lianton stand for this?”
“Is there need for concern? This is, after all, just a simple game among ladies.”
Baroness Mares’ words carried multiple intentions. She aimed to drive out the villainess and restore order to high society while simultaneously giving poor Davira Claudia a chance.
Furthermore, she implied that since this was a fair competition among women, men had no right to interfere.
“What do you think, Lady Fontpagneu?”
At her question, Marchioness Fontpagneu, who had been quietly observing, broke her silence.
“Is my opinion important?”
Her usual attitude of watching from a distance.
“It seems, however, that the opinions of those directly involved are necessary.”
Who was this remark intended for? Facing decidedly unfriendly gazes, Lyra had no choice but to accept.
“Ho ho ho, running like that, do you think you’ll catch the ball by the end of today?”
“Oof, I’m doing my best here!”
Boisterous noise echoed across the open field. By now, even the men who hadn’t joined the hunt had approached to watch this exciting match.
It was a game where teams alternated between offense and defense, with the team scoring more points claiming victory.
Lyra could only hope that the ladies and young girls on her team would give it their all.
* * *
“It’s going that way! After it!”
Irregular terrain and fallen trees increasingly blocked their path. Men in green jackets dismounted and rushed up the slope where the hunting dogs were leaping. They caught a glimpse of gray fur and had to hurry to pull the trigger before it was too late.
Kaylon, who had been riding behind them, slowly pulled on his reins. The scattered traces bothered him, and he doubted whether the unusually excited hunting dogs were correctly identifying their target.
“Why are you stopping?”
When the second-in-command in the red jacket asked with a puzzled voice, Kaylon turned his head.
“Let’s go another way.”
“But the hunting dogs…”
“It’s likely a coyote, so I suggest we turn back.”
“A coyote? Then that thing earlier…”
The animal that had swiftly escaped, barely visible as it darted through the undergrowth. Come to think of it, the sightings did seem unusually sporadic.
Following Kaylon’s gesture, he examined the droppings below. Indeed, they didn’t match the gray fox droppings they had studied beforehand, so he had no choice but to quickly agree with Kaylon.
“Now that you mention it, we have come quite deep. It might be best to leave before we encounter a pack.”
With ten armed men, meeting a pack of coyotes wouldn’t be overly concerning, but safety issues couldn’t be ignored. Some inexperienced young men among them had rarely used firearms, and occasional large predator tracks were also visible.
Kaylon, who hadn’t been in a rush to begin with, immediately addressed the men waiting behind them.
“From now on, ignore the hunting dogs. Let’s return to where we stopped earlier and restart tracking from there.”
The second-in-command echoed his orders.
“All right, move quickly! Be especially careful for your safety, as there could be large beasts around!”
They were just about to ride off when, as if confirming his concerns, a sudden commotion erupted from behind the steep hill where the green team had disappeared.
Grrrrowl, woof woof!
Dogs barking,
Bang! Bang!
Followed by gunshots.
Startled horses that hadn’t been tethered scattered in all directions, and soon came the terrified screams of men.
“Aaaah! W-what is that thing!”
“It’s coming this way! Shoot!”
“No! I’ve never seen such a large one before!”
Woof woof! Grrrrowl! Woof woof woof!
Bang! Bang bang!
Amid the chaotic mixture of human and animal noises and gunfire, Kaylon’s team members began to panic.
“What’s happening?”
“Did something appear?”
“Damn it. Let’s get out of here quickly!”
No sooner had someone urgently shouted than a man appeared on the hilltop, crying out:
“J-jaguar! Run!”
He came rushing down desperately looking for his horse, then turned pale with shock.
“A jaguar? Why would that be here?”
For those who had been hunting only small, manageable foxes, this was nothing short of a bolt from the blue. Understandably so, as they didn’t include professional hunters, and predator sightings were rare in this region.
“Duke Lianton!”
The second-in-command shouted urgently as he noted the increasingly ashen faces. But Kaylon, who was watching the hilltop, merely raised his hand to halt any movement.
A hushed atmosphere, the fear that something might spring out at any moment.
