A Whisper of the Forest
The forest rustled, yet there was no breeze in the thick pine forest. It unnerved Laucian, something was amiss. The birds were silent and few dared to be merely within eyesight, much less scavenge the forest floor for bits of seeds or grass. No creatures stirred up the leafy mulch that made up the ground.

Laucian stopped in the warm glow that passed through the canopy of leaves and branches. After debating briefly, Laucian decided he’d seek out the disturbance, but not before a quick hunt he thought merrily as he set up a cooking split with practiced ease.
On the edge of the tangled forest rode a cluster of men. They were all adorned with flashy metal armor and jeweled weapons, even their horses boasted a light chainmail made of a glimmering steel. At their lead was a young man with light brown hair and blue eyes, atop his impeccable curls was a somewhat unremarkable circlet studded with a single ruby in the center. Behind him his entourage whispered and guffawed out of earshot.
One man with a bright orange plume in his metal helmet cantered beside the young man. 

“Milord, the day runs short,” with some hesitation he continued, “We ought to head back to the city now. The no forest is no place for you.”

“Nonsense.” The young man replied, “What good is a lord who lets a daemon roam free?”

“Lord Milo, maybe we should let the daemon hunters handle this… your father would have my head if he knew what you’ve been planning.”
“Which is precisely why we must not return empty-handed, Rowan; the punishment for slaying a daemon without proper council will be far less severe than the punishment for skipping that accursed gala,” Milo shot the man a wide grin before spurring his horse deeper into the undergrowth. “Men younger than me have slain them before.”
Orange-Plume sighed, “But daemons are much smarter than they were when I was your age…”
Laucian had just finished adding more wood to the fire when the sharp click of metal jolted him from his reprieve, stooping low to the shrubbery Laucian slunk towards a slight incline in the direction of the sounds. “A fire, fresh by the looks of it.” A voice called from beyond the trees. From where he was hiding, Laucian could hear the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. The flitter of an arrow held tight against a bowstring became the only indicator that Laucian had readied his bow, a motion that went unseen by all others.
“For the love of all that is holy, put away your weapons! We’re supposed to protect the people, not prance around with our swords drawn at the first sign of life!” Milo trotted up beside Rowan before dismounting. As if sharing his rider’s exasperation, the stallion let out a snort and pawed at the leaves below.
Then Milo called out, “Who goes there? Forgive my men, we mean you no harm.” A few silent moments passed as Laucian cautiously peered out to get a better look at the situation — preferably before waltzing out into the open. Laucian sighed, “What’s a man with a jewel-encrusted crown doing here in a dank, musty forest?”
Laucian stepped over to a fallen log near the fire and stoked the fire with a lot more confidence than he felt. “Ah, well… we’re-” Milo gestured over to the men loitering dubiously, “We’re hunting a daemon.”
“A daemon? Here in the forest?”
“Yeah, it’s been menacing the locals around these parts.” Milo blew out a deep breath. “Thought we’d see what we could do.”
“The forest does seem strangely quiet today,” Laucian pulled the hood of his cloak tighter. “but I figured that might have something to do with your, ah, armored horses.”
Milo stiffened, “The horses? What about them?” A faint breeze fluttered through the forest sending a shuddering chill through Milo.
Laucian tried a stiff smile, “The racket of their chainmail can be heard from leagues away, it’s how I knew you were coming.” Could this be anymore stiff Laucian lamented, not to mention these fools scared off all wildlife with a brain.
“Oh,” Milo’s shoulders slumped, “if there was a daemon here, which is seeming more doubtful by the minute, it’s likely long gone.”
“I’m Milo by the by.” Milo extended his hand slowly — it was trembling.
Laucian clasped Milo’s hand and quickly let go, “Laucian, charmed to meet you.”
Laucian sighed and ran his fingers through his deep black hair. “Well I came from the East and found no signs of any daemons, so you don’t have to look over there.”
Orange-Plume tapped Milo’s shoulder, “We must make haste back to the city. Now!” He hissed quietly. “Not now, he may know something.”
“So, ah, you mentioned the forest was unusually quiet today.” Although it wasn’t a question, Milo’s voice hitched at the last word in query.
“Yes. Likely because of you fools, but I’ve already said this a few minutes ago.” Laucian gave Milo an appraising look. “Look, I’ve told you everything I know, so you can go on your merry way, hunt yourselves a daemon, and leave me alone.” Laucian slunk closer to the ground and began fletching a crude arrow, not yet tipped with metal.
“You look as if you’re no stranger to your bow, why not join us? We’d make a formidable hunting party.”
“No. I have better things to do than die at the hands of some daemon in a forest.”
“V-very well,” Milo stuttered, “we’ll take our leave then.” He stepped beside his horse and surveyed the armored troops hunkered stiffly beside the rolling incline of a hill. “Come hither now.” One by one the soldiers each mounted their respective horses and followed behind Milo, forming an ant-like line that stretched like a snake towards the fronds of the woods.
When Milo returned empty-handed to his father’s manor he was chastised by his mother for recklessly charging into the forest, and withholding information from the daemon hunters, who were much more renowned than himself.
Milo had been a puzzle that Arthur couldn’t solve, no matter what he tried, it seemed the boy wouldn’t listen to him. Arthur had a more acute sense of respect for his own father seeing as he had been a similarly free-spirited youth. But Milo was his son and Arthur was determined to keep him safe, despite Milo’s delight in finding novel ways to turn Arthur’s hair gray; at least Milo had returned unharmed this time, though the absence of Rowan made Arthur uneasy. He’d heard of the rumours about a daemon in the forest but had paid them no heed, the forest was quiet but that had become the norm since it was ravaged during the war.
The moon lazed in the sky like a cat watching ominously overhead the bed of clouds. The lake’s perfect stillness was marred only by a breeze that peppered its surface with tiny ripples. Nights like these were often found in picture books or fairy tales; what a grisly fairy tale this would make, Laucian thought.
Laucian admired the dim moonlight scene a few moments longer, the lake was hugged by a soft green meadow that swiftly transitioned to a thick tangle of trees and shrubbery; all tied harmoniously together by the rich moonlight of an almost full moon. Laucian tucked an exposed leaf behind his pointed ears, he really should be glad that he ran into that group of men, Laucian had begun to wonder where he’d get his next meal. But the boy at their lead had been so incredibly daft, Orange-Plume had been suspicious of him, and rightly so, if they had bothered to ask him to remove his hood they would’ve seen rich green leaves instead of hair, too-green eyes that had slits for pupils instead of circles, and ears angled downwards that came to a sharp point at his jawline.
He turned his vibrant viridian eyes to the helmet with an orange plume in the top, now peppered a dull mahogany. The helm lolled in his hands. Laucian hefted it over his shoulder, and tossed it into the lake.
“No witnesses, no evidence.” Laucian murmured as he trudged back into the trees.