Steward Gregor's scrutiny of Elara didn't end with the stable interrogation. Instead, he seemed to mark her as someone requiring special 'attention'.
He began assigning her increasingly heavier, more difficult chores, seemingly trying to break her or force her into revealing more 'oddities'. Elara continued to endure silently, keeping her head bowed even lower, deliberately slowing her movements, making them appear more 'clumsy'.
One afternoon, the weather was oppressively overcast, threatening rain. Elara and a few other servants were summoned by Gregor to the manor courtyard. Gregor stood on the steps, his expression even gloomier than the sky. Behind him stood several unfamiliar servants dressed more presentably, likely belonging to the Baron's personal staff.
The atmosphere was unusually tense.
Gregor cleared his throat, speaking in his usual imposing tone. "Listen up, all of you! In a few days, it will be the Kingdom's annual Royal Autumn Hunt! A glorious event! His Majesty the King and the great lords from the capital will attend! Our Lord Baron has been invited and requires several capable attendants to serve!"
His gaze swept over the silent, fearful servants below with condescending arrogance.
"By the Lord Baron's grace, a few among you will be chosen to accompany him to the hunting grounds. This is a tremendous honor! If you perform well, perhaps you might catch the eye of some noble!" He paused, his tone turning icy. "Of course, if anyone dares to disgrace the Lord Baron or makes any mistake..." He didn't finish, but his menacing glare said everything.
A small stir went through the crowd below. Some eyes flickered with desire, but most held fear and unease. Everyone knew that for people of their station, such occasions were fraught with peril; one misstep could lead to ruin.
Gregor seemed pleased with this effect. He slowly read out two names, both belonging to male servants known for being quick-witted and sycophantic. Then, his gaze, like a viper locking onto its prey, landed squarely on Elara.
"And... you, Elara."
Elara's heart plummeted into an icy abyss. All eyes instantly focused on her – surprise, malicious pleasure, and undisguised jealousy, especially from Martha, who looked as if the words "Why her?" were written across her face.
Seeing Elara's face pale slightly, Gregor's lips twisted into a malicious curve that could almost be called a smile. "You, girl. You seem... rather sturdy lately. And quiet. Good qualities for serving nobles. Don't want anyone clumsy embarrassing the Baron, hmm?"
His words dripped with undisguised mockery and threat, striking Elara's heart like a whip.
A chill shot up from her feet to the crown of her head, her blood seeming to freeze. The Royal Hunt! That meant countless nobles, complex rules, potential dangers... For a serf girl like her, with no background and already under the steward's scrutiny, it was tantamount to entering a dragon's den! She even suspected Gregor chose her with ill intent, perhaps hoping to use someone else's hand to get rid of her, or for her to cause trouble so he could legitimately punish her!
She wanted to refuse, to scream, to run! But she couldn't. Here, she had no right to resist. The slightest defiance could invite even more terrifying consequences.
She dug her nails fiercely into her palms, using the pain to maintain a semblance of outward calm. Slowly, arduously, she raised her head, meeting Gregor's malicious eyes. It took all her strength to force out a few words, her voice as low and hoarse as a mosquito's buzz:
"...Yes, Steward Gregor."
"Hmph, wise of you," Gregor nodded with satisfaction, clearly savoring her fear and helplessness. He casually picked up a relatively clean but obviously used coarse linen headscarf from nearby and tossed it at Elara's feet. "Take this! Change into it when the time comes! Don't disgrace the Lord Baron looking like a beggar!"
With that, he looked away from Elara, waved dismissively, indicating those chosen could leave.
Like a walking corpse, Elara bent down, picked up the headscarf that carried an unidentifiable smell, and silently retreated from the courtyard with the others.
Only when she was far from Gregor's sight did she feel her legs trembling uncontrollably. All her careful efforts, all her faint plans for the future, seemed laughable and fragile in this moment.
The Royal Hunt... a feast of ostentation and entertainment for the nobles, but for her, it was nothing short of a sacrifice. She was like a chosen lamb, about to be sent to an unknown altar.
Overwhelming fear threatened to consume her.
But deep within that abyss of terror, the black flame named "unwillingness" once again burned stubbornly, fiercely!
She couldn't die! She absolutely refused to die obscurely in such a place!
She had to go, because she had no choice.
But she would never allow herself to be slaughtered!
Elara clenched the rough headscarf in her hand, her nails digging deep into her palm. Beneath the gloomy sky, her eyes flashed with the almost crazed, desperate light of a cornered beast.
The hunting grounds? Fine! Let's see who was stronger – the hunters, or this "prey" from another world who refused to accept her fate!