The Hunt

A young prince details his father's yearly ritual, The Hunt.

Yet again, it is time for the annual hunt. I have never enjoyed this event, but father tells me it will be fun this time. He is wrong, and has been on every account. Ever since I was old enough to participate, he has tried to have me enjoy it. There is no joy in what he makes us do. He says “it will make me a true man of Dahad.” I am far from inclined to believe him; I fear retribution for our crimes. To call them anything else would give it some level of merit, but there is none to be seen after all these years. My youngest brother, Insit, loves the hunt, though I do not believe he understands. I think he just revels in seeing our father happy. This is the only time in the entire year that he has a smile on his face, as wicked as it may be. I think father is lost in some way. I do not know how long he has been this way, but any kindness died in him long ago. Any man who could enjoy the hunt must be nothing but a shell of a former being. Any man who could love playing barbarian over being a king could be nothing less. Raping, stealing, beating, torturing, gutting, and murdering without any discrimination. These were what my father loved more than his own children, more than his own queen. Even mother was subject to the hunt, if the urge struck father. But as years went on, she was a much more boring target for him. Thank the Six for that, I have seen what he has done to her and any sin she has ever committed, she has more than atoned for. I do not know where this wrathful greed comes from, he is a king. He can have anything he wants to without this use of force. Even now, he has drawn-out the hunt again. Apparently, the two weeks last year was not enough to satisfy him. Now it lasts the entirety of the first month of the year, which is the most vulnerable time for our precious people. They do not have much food, harvests are low from frosts and daylight is short. They trade what they can to get overpriced food on import, and the price is due to ridiculous tariffs by my father’s hand. Sadly, he cares little for the problems of our people, to the point that hundreds will die by his hand this month. The population of Aelus scarcely breaks three thousand, and his reach extends past just the city during the hunt. He thieves from stable masters and picks only prized stallions, then rides through the territory like a bandit with the rest of us trailing behind him. There is usually a poor soul or two with us who is along for a ride through the countryside, though they do not get to ride on a horse. Tied up by a rope to his saddle and left to drag along if they cannot keep up, and they are never able. I mean, no one could ever reach the speed of a horse like that. Regardless, I cannot wait for this to end. I was done with this tradition before father allowed me to join. I truly fear for the ire wrought by these hunts. I can feel it coming, I can see it in the eyes of men who watch their loved ones ripped from their homes and treated worse than insects. I can see it in the mothers and wives watching their husbands and children being tortured before them, and never being able to stop lest they meet a worse fate. There is a fire starting in their hearts, and my line is the kindling. I can only pray that when retribution comes to my gates, someone will spare me for my ancestors’ atrocities. I am nothing more than a victim akin to our citizen. I pray that they see me as Antei and not as another Dahad who will grow to continue my reign as those before me.

Reviews

[Shy Joe]

The best thing you can do to make your story more palatable to read is to structure so it has paragraphs and increase the size of the font slightly. I suggest at least 12pt-14pt. I hope I was of some help. Never stop writing.