Author's Note: A lot of people have been complaining about the plot, so I wanted to take a moment to address some of the complaints.
1 - The test is a stupid side quest:
Torin is in High Rock. I'm not going to have him do one thing and then immediately go back to Skyrim. There's no point in that. The whole purpose of this arc is to actually have Torin spend some time in High Rock and explore Breton culture while dealing with different situations.
2 - The test is stupid because they already named him as the queen's champion:
Two or three chapters ago, Gautier explicitly told Torin that they could fake a hunting accident or something similar to give him an excuse. Also, you don't actually know who's testing Torin or why he's being tested. All you've heard is what the Bretons have told Torin, and they've already established themselves as liars and schemers.
So maybe there's more going on than what they've told Torin.
3 - The entire scheme is stupid:
No, not really.
Gautier talked to Torin specifically to gauge his reaction, and he's been a courtier his entire life. Reading people's moods and predicting their reactions is basically his job. He accurately predicted what Torin would do.
When the time came for Torin to make his decision, he wanted to refuse, exactly as Gautier had predicted. But then he agreed because Kyne gave him a sign.
...
It was already night time when a very frustrated Torin made his way through the forest's furthest reaches with Echo padding beside him.
They had ventured deeper than any of the local hunters dared to go—past the old stone markers, past the gnarled trees that seemed to twist in unnatural directions, past the point where the birdsong faded and only the wind remained.
He had found no traces nor tracks of the elusive guardian beast on the well-trodden animal paths, nor near the biggest sources of water. The deer and boar had been plentiful, the foxes and hares abundant, but nothing that matched Aveline's description.
And so he had decided to head deeper into the forest, beyond the reach of hunters and woodcutters, where the canopy grew thick and the underbrush tangled into an impenetrable wall.
And yet, all he found there were regular predatory beasts—wolves and bears that would take one look at Echo and turn the other way, their tails between their legs, their pride forgotten in the face of a larger predator.
This is pointless, Torin thought, swatting aside a low-hanging branch. I'm wandering through the woods like a fool, not even knowin what I'm looking for.
Aside from predators, there were also hunting traps. A lot of very old hunting traps. Some were closed shut, their rusted jaws frozen in place, their springs long since corroded into uselessness.
Those, Torin was perfectly content to ignore.
However, there were still active snares scattered among the dead ones—their ropes still taut, their triggers still sensitive. They could easily kill an animal or entrap it to death.
Either way, the animal would go to waste, since whoever had made these traps hadn't been there to check on them for years, maybe more. The state they were in—the rust creeping along the metal, the frayed edges of the rope, the occasional animal carcass stuck in them—was proof of that.
Those ones, Torin couldn't ignore. Not without a mental manifestation of Aela nagging him about the importance of protecting the balance of the wilds, and not allowing prey to go to waste.
Her voice echoed in his head, sharp and scolding: A true hunter respects the hunt, Torin. You don't leave meat to rot. You don't let the forest suffer for a lazy trapper's greed.
And so he found himself compelled to waste even more time dismantling these abandoned traps, whether he wanted to or not. He'd crouch down, carefully disarm the mechanism, and toss the broken pieces aside.
Echo would watch him with patient curiosity, occasionally sniffing at the rusted metal before losing interest.
Ridiculous, he thought as he snapped another snare's trigger. I came here to find a beast, not to clean up after some careless poacher.
But the voice in his head wouldn't let him stop.
If you're going to call yourself a hunter, it whispered, then act like one.
"Well, I'm done calling myself a hunter today," Torin muttered.
Just as Torin had decided to call it a day and return to the village, he had to pause as he heard the sound of high-pitched screaming.
It wasn't human—rather, it seemed to belong to something small, and desperate, something that had been crying out for a while. The sound was faint, carried by the wind, but unmistakable once he focused on it.
Torin let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders sagging.
Of course. Of course there's something else.
He began to follow the source of the sound, pushing through thick underbrush and stepping over fallen logs. Echo padded silently behind him, her ears swiveling as she tracked the noise as well.
Soon enough, he found himself standing over the edge of a pitfall—a deep, narrow hole in the earth, its walls crumbling and uneven, its bottom lined with sharpened wooden spikes that glinted in the dim moonlight.
At least five large animal carcasses lay impaled at the bottom, their bodies in various states of decay. Some were little more than skeletons, their bones bleached white by sun and rain. Others were fresher, their fur still intact, their eyes still glazed and staring.
The smell was thick and cloying, a heavy blanket of rot that made Torin's nose wrinkle.
And standing atop the carcass of a deer, its small paws pressed against the wall of the pit, was a rabbit. It was jumping in place, shrieking with each frantic leap, as if trying to climb its way out.
Torin couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
"That's a lot of noise for something so small."
Echo tilted her head and let out a low growl, as if to agree, her dark eyes fixed on the frantic creature below.
Torin grinned in amusement and reached toward the rabbit, invisible telekinetic tendrils extending from his hand to grab the small creature. It went quiet as its feet left the ground—a moment of startled silence—and then it began to shriek even more loudly, its tiny body squirming in his magical grasp.
Whether it was excitement or fear, Torin couldn't tell. Perhaps both.
Either way, it went quiet again as its ears landed in Torin's hand. The rabbit froze, its small body trembling, and inspected him with its tiny, dark eyes. It seemed to weigh him, to assess him, to decide whether he was a threat or a savior.
After a long moment, it relaxed, letting out a gentle, vibrating sound—something between a purr and a sigh.
Torin shrugged, his tone dry.
"Don't thank me. I'm only letting you go because Echo and I already had dinner." He paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Maybe one of your cousins."
The rabbit stiffened in his hand, its ears flattening against its head.
Torin's grin widened as he gently set it on the ground.
"Go on now. Do be careful though. I might come find you tomorrow when I'm hungry."
The rabbit let out another shriek—this one unmistakably fearful—and darted into the bushes, its white tail flashing as it disappeared into the undergrowth.
Torin watched it leave with a chuckle, then turned to the pit. He raised both hands, palms facing the ground, and pushed. His magic flowed through him, invisible but potent, and the earth began to shift.
The walls of the pit crumbled inward, the spikes snapping and burying themselves under a cascade of dirt and stone. Within moments, the pit was gone—just another patch of uneven ground, indistinguishable from the rest of the forest floor.
"That's that, I guess."
He turned, intent on heading back to the village. Echo silently followed behind him.
...
The next day. Early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to crest the treeline, casting long golden shadows across the dewy grass. Torin had one foot on the lower bar of the farm's fence as he stared into the treeline ahead, a deep frown etched across his face. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, his mind churning with frustration.
Echo lay on the ground beside him, her massive head resting on her paws, yawning lazily. She seemed perfectly content to wait, her dark eyes half-closed, her tail giving the occasional slow wag.
But Torin's mind was racing, trying to think of a way to lure out a beast he knew nothing about. Searching blindly through the forest was definitely not the way to go. Yesterday had proven that much to him—hours of wandering, nothing but abandoned traps and a single rabbit to show for it.
The only surefire method he could think of, again, was burning down the forest. But there had to be another way. There had to be.
Torin couldn't help but frown deeper. Or maybe there isn't another way, after all. Maybe this is just a wild goose chase they sent me on—destined to fail, so they can continue with their plan.
His expression darkened at the thought. Maybe I'm being used as a decoy again, to trick Duke Armand and his faction.
If that were the case, then something was definitely going to go up in flames. Not the forest—but maybe a royal palace. And the manors of at least a dozen nobles in Daggerfall.
Just as he was about to resign himself to another day of fruitlessly combing the forest, he heard the sudden sound of a twig snapping in half.
He and Echo both turned around.
A child stood a few feet away, one foot atop a broken branch, his expression guilty—the look of someone who had just been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't. He was small, maybe eight or nine years old, with mousy brown hair and wide eyes that darted nervously between Torin and Echo.
Torin raised an eyebrow, recognition flickering across his face.
"You're the boy from that time." He tilted his head. "The one who told me about the green lady."
The boy nodded slowly, his hands fidgeting behind his back.
"What are you doing?" Torin asked, his voice curious rather than accusatory.
The boy chuckled nervously, one hand scratching the back of his head, the other pointing at Echo.
"Well... I remember how she startled me, so I wanted to return the favor."
Torin looked at him blankly for a moment, processing the sheer audacity of a child trying to sneak up on a full-grown bear to startle her. Then he let out a chuckle, the sound low and genuine.
Echo, however, had other ideas. She slowly stood, her massive frame unfolding with deliberate grace, and walked toward the boy until her face was almost touching his. Her dark eyes fixed on him, unblinking, her breath warm against his skin.
The boy began to fidget, his bravado crumbling under the weight of her attention. Then she growled—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air—and pushed him down with her head, causing him to scream in surprise. She proceeded to stand over him, prodding him with her snout, her ears twitching with playful satisfaction.
Torin couldn't help but smile at the sight.
It sure is nice being a kid. Instead of wasting your day chasing something you're not even sure exists, you get to play around in the dirt and wonder about stories the grown-ups tell.
His mind conjured the tale the boy had told him about the green lady—the warning about the old grove, the flowers that shouldn't be picked, the green lady who turned out to be Madam Aveline.
Then suddenly, the gears seemed to turn in Torin's head.
"Of course! why haven't I thought of that?!" he said aloud, startling both the boy and Echo, who turned to him with inquisitive looks.
"What's your name, boy?" Torin asked.
The boy blinked once, then twice, in confusion before answering.
"It's Mael, sir."
Torin nodded, a grin spreading across his face.
"It's good to meet you, Mael. My name is Torin." He paused. "And I need you to do me a favor."
The boy seemed both intrigued and nervous at those words, his eyes darting between Torin and Echo.
"What kind of favor?"
Torin's grin widened, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"I need you to tell me every story, myth, and legend you know about this forest. Like the one about the green lady."
...
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