The Royal Hunt camp, for Elara, was a place of contradictions and shocks.
The area assigned to her was on the furthest edge of the Baron's camp, adjacent to a small grove. Her duties were to guard a pile of unimportant miscellaneous goods and keep a small bonfire nearby from dying out. This relative seclusion offered temporary distance from the direct gaze of the Baron's family and senior servants, but it also meant greater isolation and potential danger.
From her position, she could see the distant clusters of tents belonging to the truly great nobles, opulent as palaces. Brightly colored banners, embroidered with complex crests she didn't recognize but clearly represented illustrious families, snapped in the wind. Noble men and women, dressed in tailored velvet or leather hunting attire, rode magnificent horses, accompanied by large retinues and excited hounds, laughing and talking as they passed on the main path far off. The rich aroma of roasting meat, the exotic scent of spices, and the mellow fragrance of quality ale drifted on the air...
All this splendor and luxury formed the sharpest, cruelest contrast with Elara's own situation. She still wore her coarse linen tunic, her stomach remained empty, her only comfort the meager warmth from the bonfire and the cold wind blowing from the woods, carrying the smell of earth and decaying leaves.
Head bowed, she silently added firewood to the bonfire, while warily observing her surroundings with the corner of her eye. She noticed the strict hierarchy even among the servants. The Baron's personal attendants wore matching, relatively decent livery and ordered about the lower-ranking, temporarily drafted attendants like herself with arrogance. Those at the very bottom, like her and Thomas, were almost invisible unless needed for a task.
Just as Elara was trying to make herself as inconspicuous as a stone, trouble still found her.
A young male servant named Hugo, dressed slightly better than the lowest ranks and appearing to be an attendant to one of the Baron's inner circle, sauntered into Elara's designated area. Back at the manor, Hugo was known for having some minor standing and enjoying bullying newcomers and lower servants. He clearly recognized Elara and knew she was someone Steward Gregor paid "special attention" to.
Hugo stood with his arms crossed, circling the bonfire with a scrutinizing, critical gaze before stopping in front of Elara.
"Hey, newcomer," he gestured towards the fire with his chin. "Is this fire about to go out? Burning like a firefly's arse! If the Baron's guests come by later and see such a pitiful flame, they'll think we can't even afford firewood!"
Elara didn't look up, just silently added a few thicker pieces of wood to the fire. She knew Hugo was deliberately trying to find fault. This bonfire was merely for light and warmth for the night watch and the outer edge; no "guests" would ever come here.
Seeing Elara ignore him, Hugo felt slighted. He stepped forward and deliberately kicked the woodpile next to the fire, sending several dry logs tumbling out, nearly hitting Elara's feet.
"Can't even handle such a simple task! Why did the Steward choose useless trash like you?" Hugo spat, his tone even more contemptuous.
Elara remained silent, bending down to pick up the scattered firewood and neatly stack it again. Her movements were slow, calm, as if she hadn't heard Hugo's provocation.
This silent, almost dismissive attitude thoroughly enraged Hugo. He had expected to see Elara flustered and trembling, like the other servants he bullied back at the manor. But this Elara, though her head was bowed, always gave him an inexplicable sense of distance, as if her silence wasn't born of fear, but disdain.
"Gone mute?!" Hugo stepped forward again, almost pressing his face close to Elara's. "I'm talking to you! Don't think you can ignore me just because the Steward isn't here! Let me tell you, out here, what Hugo says carries more weight than the Steward's word!"
Elara finally lifted her head, meeting Hugo's eyes briefly. Her gaze was calm, devoid of emotion, like looking at a rock blocking the path. Then, she spoke slowly, her voice quiet but clear enough for Hugo to hear: "My duty is to watch the fire and supplies here, and take direct orders from Goodman Piers."
Piers was a senior servant responsible for miscellaneous duties in the outer camp area, ranking higher than Hugo.
Elara's words struck Hugo like a slap in the face. He hadn't expected this seemingly submissive serf girl to dare use Piers' name against him!
Hugo's face instantly flushed red, a furious glint flashing in his eyes. "You... you dare use Goodman Piers' name against me? Fine! Just fine! You just wait!"
He spat out the threat viciously. Knowing that starting a physical fight here might attract unwanted trouble, he turned and stormed off in a huff.
Watching Hugo's retreating back, Elara slowly let out a breath. She knew her brief counterattack, though temporarily effective, had thoroughly antagonized him.
In this opulent hunting ground, like a giant canopy overhead, undercurrents flowed everywhere. Even among the lowest servants, there was conflict and malice.
She had to be even more careful. This Hugo would definitely not let the matter rest.