"Expected he wouldn't come back with a Bogoart and would come back half dead," the lanky knight said in a low voice to Hojj, barely containing laugh. "But at least I said he'd come back."
He too wasn't sure that Darion would make it back alive, but had only said he'd slightly survive because no one else thought so. And do some sort of challenge with Hojj.
Hojj said nothing. He just stared at the carcass draped across the horse, not knowing what to say and how to react to what he was witnessing.
The other knights weren't in much better shape. They studied the Bogoart in silence, exchanging glances that carried more question than words could.
Darion rode through the castle gate where Sir Garren stood waiting.
The man's face said everything. He had escorted this Baron into the forest, a Baron who had arrived some hours ago, who looked too young for the role, who had announced he was going alone into the woods that had been eating knights for years, and had fully expected to be organizing a search party before morning.
Instead he was watching him ride in with a Bogoart the size of a small cart horse laid across his saddle like a hunting trophy.
It was not a small Bogoart either.
A cluster of knights had followed from the barracks and were now crowding through the castle gate behind Darion, moving cautiously, not entirely sure what kind of reception they were walking into. They had refused to go with him. They had sat in the barracks and placed bets on whether he would die. And now he was back, and the Bogoart was real, and none of them had any idea what came next.
Would he feed them? Would he punish them? Would he make them watch while he ate alone? In a barony this hungry, control over that much meat was genuine power, and every knight in that crowd was doing the quiet arithmetic of what their refusal might cost them tonight.
Darion dismounted, handed the spear and sword to Garren and turned to the gathered knights.
"You four," he said, pointing. "Get the Bogoart off the horse and carry it to the training grounds outside the barracks." He turned to another. "Take the horse to the stable."
They moved immediately, no hesitation, bowing as they went.
The remaining knights watched him, still trying to read the situation.
"Follow me," he said to Garren, and set off toward the barracks.
They set the Bogoart down on the training grounds and stepped back, bowing. Garren stood slightly to the side. The knights who had gathered formed a loose half-circle, looking at the carcass and then at Darion.
He let the silence sit for a moment, then pointed at the creature on the ground.
"What is that?"
"A Bogoart," they answered, more or less in unison.
Darion grinned. "And I just casually walked into the woods and came back with one. Unharmed."
Nobody said anything.
"If you had all come with me," he said, "We would have killed many more. Together."
"How did you do it, m'lord?" a knight near the back asked, his voice sounding like someone who needed to understand. "This creature, this exact type, has been killing us for years. Our friends. Our brothers. People we trained with and fought alongside. And you went in alone and came back with one."
Darion shrugged. "I did tell you all that I would go into the forest, kill a Bogoart, maybe two, and come back. Didn't I?"
Hojj stepped forward slightly. "With all due respect, m'lord, we genuinely believed you were going to die. We thought you had walked into those woods to die."
Darion laughed, a real one, short stuff. "I am not weak," he said, and let that land before continuing. "And my plan was not simply walk into the forest and attack the first thing I saw. I had a plan. It worked. And the result is what's what's lying on the ground in front of you."
He didn't elaborate further.
The knights looked at each other. Then, one by one, starting from the front and spreading backward through the group, they went down on one knee, heads bowed, the full gesture of acknowledgment and apology, offered without being asked. Even Garren, after a brief pause, took a knee.
Darion looked at the sight of them all kneeling and felt something he couldn't quite name. Strange and oddly satisfying and slightly funny all at once, in a way he didn't think needed to be examined too closely.
"Get up," he said. "All of you."
They rose.
"I didn't do this for an apology. I did this to show you that it's possible. That the state you're all in, hungry, stuck and waiting for something to change, that doesn't have to be permanent. You can kill a Bogoart without dying. You just have to be tactical about it. That's all."
He paused, looking across the group.
"Now. That Bogoart is for everyone, every knight, the servants, every person it will reach. Tonight we eat." He turned to Garren. "I want the knights to break it down, cut it into portions, get it to the kitchen, and have the cook make enough soup to feed every person under this roof. Can you manage that?"
"Yes, m'lord," Garren said, the relief in his voice barely concealed.
"Good." Darion turned back to the knights. "I'll be in the castle if I'm needed. Tonight we eat well. Tomorrow we hunt again."
He turned to leave.
Behind him, the knights began to move, talking now, energy shifting, the low flat atmosphere of the barracks replaced by something that hadn't been present in a long time. Someone laughed. Someone else was already arguing about the best way to break down the carcass. And then, rising above all of it, one voice started it and others joined:
"Tomorrow," someone called after him. "We'll definitely come with you tomorrow, m'lord!"
They meant it.