Beastbound: Awakening the Hunter

The villagers and townspeople stood frozen in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. The scene unfolding before them was even more bizarre than the most dramatic play or fantastical novel.

A nobleman's son—none other than the Baron’s own flesh and blood—was on his knees before a humble peasant, crying and pleading for mercy. And not just any tears—Edmund’s sobs were a pitiful mix of snot and shame, enough to make even the normally composed Oliver scoff in disgust.

Edmund, unable to even cling to Oliver’s leg for comfort, kept his distance, bowing profusely with his forehead almost kissing the dirt. The onlookers, still reeling from the spectacle, exchanged confused glances. What could this young noble have possibly done to deserve such a humiliating display?

Some of the more familiar faces in the crowd couldn't help but ask, "What’s going on? What’s he done?"

Before Oliver could respond, Baron Cavendish—Edmund’s father—took it upon himself to explain.

He painted his son as nothing less than a reprehensible scoundrel, a violent, foul-mouthed troublemaker who had tormented and bullied his fellow students, only to earn the wrath of Oliver, the prestigious core apprentice. The crowd was stunned. They hadn’t known Oliver was so powerful—after all, core apprentices were a rare breed. There were only four or five of them in the entire town, and even the residents who knew the term didn’t fully grasp its meaning.

Unless you were a noble, like the innkeeper Gavin, most people didn’t understand the weight that came with being a core apprentice.

In the crowd, the daughter of the town’s seamstress, Jennifer, glared furiously at her father. "See, Dad? It’s all your fault. You’ve always held me back, and now look—Stark is a big deal!"

"Is that my fault? You’re just too plain for anyone to notice!" the old tailor snapped back in frustration.

The pair of them exchanged harsh words, almost ready to come to blows.

"Core apprentices... they make a lot of money, don’t they?" someone asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"A core apprentice? Aren’t they just students at the academy? What makes them so special?" another voice chimed in.

The first speaker shook his head knowingly. "You don’t get it. Core apprentices aren’t just anyone. They’re the ones who catch the attention of Professor Arcanus. Do you know who Arcanus is? Even the town's four lords show him the utmost respect!"

The crowd fell silent. The mention of Arcanus, a figure of nearly mythical stature, made even the nobles tremble. The tailor and his daughter, frustrated and bewildered, nearly quarreled again.

As the townspeople buzzed with newfound respect for Oliver, he remained outwardly calm and unbothered. He had no interest in mingling with these nobles. If anything, he’d rather spend his time perfecting his spellcasting.

Without giving further attention to Baron Cavendish or his son, Oliver turned to leave.

"Mr. Stark, please, wait!" Baron Cavendish hurriedly called out, stepping into his path.

Edmund, seeing this, nearly passed out from frustration. Is he even my father? Does he want this man to kill me or something?

Of course, Baron Cavendish wasn’t really trying to have Oliver kill his son. He was, however, determined to "show gratitude" in his own way.

"Lord Stark," he began, his voice filled with genuine remorse, "your mercy is truly admirable. You've chosen to show leniency, and as a father, I cannot help but feel deeply grateful for your kindness. I am truly sorry for the wrongs that have been done."

With that, the Baron reached into his coat and pulled out a leather pouch, offering it to Oliver with both hands. He opened the pouch carefully, and a gleam of gold spilled out.

Inside were thirty glittering gold coins, each stamped with a finely detailed image of the queen’s face, catching the sunlight with a brilliant gleam.

"Thirty gold coins," Cavendish declared. "Please, Lord Stark, accept this humble gift as a token of our gratitude."

Thirty gold coins?!

The crowd stood in stunned silence. They had been awestruck by Oliver’s status as a core apprentice, but this was something else entirely. Thirty gold coins. The significance hit them like a thunderclap.

One gold coin was worth a hundred silver pieces. Thirty gold coins? That was three thousand silver pieces—an unimaginable sum to most of them.

The Baron, Cavendish, had originally considered rebuilding Oliver's house. After all, if he gave gold, it might be spent quickly, and would he even be remembered? But a house, that would be different. As long as Oliver lived there, he would always remember that it was the Baron who had helped him rebuild it.

However, Cavendish soon realized that, as a student at the academy, Oliver had his meals and lodging provided there, so he wouldn't even be staying in a newly rebuilt house. With that in mind, he decided it would be more practical to give him gold after all.

With thirty gold coins, one could purchase a wand of decent quality. In fact, the staff Oliver had custom-made for himself initially cost no more than fifteen coins. But after adding a rare magical scale, it had been transformed into a potent arcane weapon. Now, its value had soared, far exceeding that of an ordinary staff—it could easily fetch over a hundred gold coins, perhaps even more.

Oliver smiled and took the pouch, his fingers brushing the glittering coins. "Since you’re so sincere, I’ll let this matter go. Consider it forgotten."

He’d never turn down free money. Thirty gold coins were a small fortune—enough to cover the risk and danger of hunting a magical creature in the wilderness, with the potential to earn a decent profit.

"Lord Stark," the Baron continued, "this is a VIP card from my family. We have some holdings in the town and even in Glensorne. If you visit, this card will ensure you receive VIP treatment."

Oliver took the golden-embossed card, inspecting it briefly before his sharp eyes caught the details. The Cavendish family was in the leather trade—selling more than just clothing, but also armor and enchanted leather goods.

It was clear to Oliver that he might, in the future, find himself doing business with them.

As the Baron and his son departed, the crowd erupted in a frenzy of chatter, eager to discuss Oliver's newfound wealth and power.

"Thirty gold coins in one go? Our family’s earnings in a century wouldn’t add up to that!" one voice exclaimed.

"Look at him now! Oliver’s a rich man!"

"Who would’ve thought the old farm boy would make it this far?"

"Oliver! Remember me? I used to carry you when you were a kid!"

"Stark! Want to come over for dinner tonight?"

"Stark, does my perfume smell nice?"

The crowd's enthusiasm was overwhelming, and Oliver, feeling like a celebrity swarmed by adoring fans, could only shake his head in exasperation.

"Alright, everyone, calm down. I’ve got to get back to the academy and study," he said, trying to deflect the attention.

"Of course, Lord Stark, always focused on your studies! No wonder you’re a core apprentice!" someone called out.

"Don’t block his path!" another added.

"Lord Stark, you stepped on something! Let me clean it for you!"