Chronicles of a Huntress

Chapter 5. "There're Gods and There's The Hunt."

Hey guys!

Chapter 5 is now up! Now, this is set in 1920's England so I'm still working on the dialogue to make it perfectly British. If there's any word or slang I've misused or that I forgot, please let me know!

Disclaimer: The title is inspired by one of BBC's Peaky Blinders' iconic lines. Also, I was slightly inspired by the tv series to come up with this plot so there's that too. Also, some of the characters here are of my own invention but the ones you guys already know belong to Rick Riordan.

Warning: There's some coursing here so reader's discretion is advised.

Please vote and comment! Cheers for reading!

Word count: 10,368.

Chapter 5. "There're Gods and There's the Hunt."

"There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken." - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows.

October, 20th, 1920.

The Hunting Trap Pub was jam-packed, its clients mostly consisting of middle class' men who wanted to enjoy a few pints after a hard day of work before heading home to their wives and children.

The pub in itself spoke of a grandeur hard to find in the post-war era. The booths lined up by the right edge of the room were made of red velvet, each of them attached to a round, mahogany table. Between them and the bar, equally round tables had been lined up, each of them surrounded by six comfortable, wooden chairs. Across the room, columns painted golden were supporting the entire structure. The counter in itself was a long, wooden board that ran across the left side of the room, large displays behind it containing every sort of ale available. By the center of the room, a chandelier hung proudly from the ceiling and the wooden floorboards had been covered by a black carpet.

Even though it was one of the most recently built in Brighton - actually one of the few built during the Great War - that pub was also one of the most famous, as its crew consisted entirely of women. Women who took no crap from anyone.

So, the clientele of The Hunting Trap quickly learned that if they wanted to continue attending that place, then they needed to behave according to the rules installed. And, to the surprise of the british society, it worked. Thus, while The Hunting Trap became quite famous across the entire region, even attracting men from higher status who dared showing their faces in that dodgy part of the city to see what the fuss was all about, the clientele was composed of men who - above everything -, wanted nothing but to chill.

On the day that concerns us, two gentlemen stood out from the usual crowd. Sure, their fine clothes and silver watches glimpsed from behind their dark coats spoke in a glaring manner of their economic status but if anything, it was their behaviour that brought the spotlight onto them. The two gentlemen, both wearing a silver ornate ring with the same crest, were lounging on two wooden seats as they played cards. Two half-empty pints resting on the table before them, their laughter was boisterous and confident as they carried on their game, equally oblivious to the growing irritation in their losing playmates. Oblivious, or simply non-caring.

Of course, their humble playmates could have left the table but really, it wasn't every day that they were visited by important members such as the newcomers. On any other day, the idea of going back to their families even more broke than they had left them would fill them with shame but there was a thrill associated to the idea of maybe, just maybe, winning a game or two against such remarkable individuals, that they had to stay. They just had to. Thomas and Harry Winkleman were two members of East Sussex's elite society. Being heirs to one of the most important' financial enterprises in Britain, the two brothers had been raised under the idea that, as they were privileged, there was nothing nor anyone that could refuse them. Hence, they'd grown to have no respect for anyone or anything who they deemed inferior to their status. As such, the privilege installed on them, so recurrent in their education, was so grand that there was nothing clearer to them than the idea of their own importance.