Riaz cried pitifully, “T-teacher… I can’t… please.”

With his body poised upside down, Riaz walked on his hands with sweat dripping down his shaking face. His whole body swayed back and forth due to the uneven ground below him while his muscles tensed up and twitched from excessive strain.

He was carrying the bags, with all the provisions, tools and swords, which were tightly fastened to him with a rope.

Mere days had passed and the road had grown wider as they entered the vicinity of a town.

More people passed by the master and disciple pair, including the mercantile folk, small bands of sell-swords and the like. A young man putting on a show like that almost convinced the passersby that he was a traveling circus act, an entertainer on his way to town.

Every now and then someone would clap their hands for Riaz, making him feel embarrassed, while a few seasoned warriors silently smiled and thought back to the good old days.

The sun was on a dive behind the cover of few enormous clouds. A fair distance down the road stood a town with sturdy walls of stone.

Riaz rejoiced.

He could barely hold out and gradually lost feeling in his hands. He didn’t want to imagine what his hands would look like if he hadn’t covered them with qi.

Aldean shouted, “With the Gods and the grass as the witnesses, are you of mind to put on such a pathetic display?”

His expression seemed frozen in a sort-of frown, but Riaz knew that Aldean could be in either a happy or foul mood and still look the same way. He was the type to rarely show a heartfelt smile, which Riaz thought to be a true shame.

A silent whine escaped Riaz’s lips, his pace slowing down considerably. His hands started to hurt more and more. He may have enveloped them with qi, but truly forming a protective layer was nearly as difficult as coating one’s weapon in it.

In short, there were bound to be hickups in the process and his hands would get injured from exposure to the course surface of the road.

“Oi oi, stop slacking, I haven’t witnessed that strength, which is unrivaled under the heavens, yet.” Aldean rode Moonshine behind the youth, then approached the leather bag that was roped to Riaz’s body and drew a random sword from within.

He pointed the tip of the sword at his disciple’s back while his horse slowly picked up the pace.

A disgracefully high-pitched squeal left the boy’s lips with him strongly reacting to the vicious little jabs that he felt on his back. Such a soft attitude, his teacher would have none of that.

“Hurry up, you brat. Gridan is ahead of us. It’s getting late and we’ll be staying at the inn tonight.” Aldean shouted and narrowed his eyes to focus on the distance.

He faked enthusiasm and spoke, “Now look, they even have paved roads. Aren’t you happy?”

Riaz sniveled quietly, but Aldean pretended not to hear.

Minutes later, they arrived at the gate and paid the toll. The moment they set foot on Gridan’s roads, they drew many people’s eyes. The spectacle of a human pack-mule walking on his hands was inevitably hard to ignore.

Men and women of all walks of life looked upon Riaz with pity while some parents hushed their clamoring children as they pointed their fingers at Riaz

Hearing the whispers of the crowd, Riaz once more felt embarrassment. He would have turned red, were it not for his face already being red from all the blood rushing into it.

The pair stopped in front front of a building, underneath a sign depicting a pitcher full of sloshing ale. It was a pretty self-explanatory sign, which clearly denoted a tavern.

“Alright, you may stand on your feet again,” said Aldean as he sheathed the sword and put it back into the bag. His gaze turned towards the entrance of the inn, from where came the lively noises of the merry people and drunken fools. Bright light shone through the inn’s windows.

Riaz, attuning himself to the sensation of standing on his own two feet again, struggled with a wave of dizziness. He pressed a hand against his head and suspected that all the blood in his head must have drained when he planted his feet on the ground.

He eyed his surroundings. The town was lively and of a remarkable size. The foundation was strong. It was a town built on stone, with stone. It was very different from Lefra Village, as all the buildings were neatly lined up with no fields growing within the confines of the walls.

Riaz gulped down many mouthfuls of water from a leather pouch. The sun had already disappeared from sight, but the town was still lively in these parts. He watched the gatekeepers shut the gate and listened to the faraway tolls of a bell.

He would have loved to see more of the town, but Aldean handed him the reigns of his horse and ordered him to put his horse up in the stables, then disappeared into the tavern without further notice.

Having done his bidding, Riaz followed Aldean into the tavern about ten minutes later. As he passed through the front door, he found his own thoughts to be drowned by the boisterous and cheerful noises of the common room. Many men were gathered here, celebrating in the center-most area of the tavern while raising their pitchers of ale. It was difficult to count their heads, as they packed together densely.

The entrance led towards an austere counter made of walnut wood, while off to the side, a few steps without a railing led a little ways down into a wide service area with tables. The interior seemed far more spacious then the outer facade let on.

Among the many tavern guests, that one particular group of noisy men drew all of the attention. They carelessly spilled their drinks everywhere, unleashing a fruity smell that didn’t mix all too well with the the odorous smell of their sweat.

Riaz found the smell unpleasant, despite not smelling of flowers himself after training all day.

Upon a closer inspection, many of these men carried swords but were dressed in higher-end clothing, something Riaz could intuitively tell apart from the average garbs that the people outside wore.

Despite their appearance, there was nothing about their behavior that indicated a higher standing. It was as though a bunch of smelly hooligans had been made to dress up for once in their lifetime.

It was quite reassuring that none of them blatantly waved around their weapons in light of the current mood. Everybody was focused on a youth, no older than Riaz, who was the center of their attention.

“Haha, how’s the drink, boy? Enjoyin’ this celebration, aren’t ya? No need to say it, yer missing some women, right?” One bulky man shouted in a deep and full voice. The others laughed along with his remarks.

The man talking wore a dark leather jerkin with a grey shirt underneath. Like the others, his bearing and way of talking didn’t match with how he dressed at all. Even his curly black beard and the curls of his short black hair lacked a sensible touch.

Another voice chimed in, “Yeah, we all know what our young lord wants, don’t we? Kekeke. That’s why we are here after all. Ain’t that right?”

Riaz perked up his ears and listened in on the group. As to not obstruct anyone, he had moved to an inconspicuous corner between the door and a window.

A third man, slim like a tooth pick, raised his cup. “Heh, he’s really smitten with the daughter of the inn owner. Better not to let the young lord wait much, for ’tis his day.”

“Uncles, please, don’t say that, she might hear.” The youth at the center very quickly turned red to the roots of his hair. He had a rosy complexion with redder spots hugging his cheeks; a consequence of being forced to down too much alcohol by the adults surrounding him. Similarly to the bulky man with the grey shirt, he, too, had black curly hair.

“So what, nephew? Your uncle knows how to spoil his family, so he’s made the right prep for your birthday, with a young lad’s ‘interests’ in mind.” The bulky man laughed with jovial eyes.

Everyone in the room grew quiet whenever he spoke. That man commanded the room, which stoked Riaz’s curiosity.

The man’s nephew seemed to have thought of something as his eyes lit up. His voice rose sharply, “Uncle, you couldn’t have? No that’s…” The youth grew flustered and waved his two hands before him with the palms facing outwards.

The uncle chuckled, then put two fingers to his lips and whistled.

“Alright, innkeep, bring ‘er in!” He called out to the innkeeper, who stood behind the walnut counter. The sweat on his chubby face glistened under the light of tallow candles. He scurried away, into a room behind the counter, then promptly returned, accompanied by a young maiden.

The girl was clothed in a cute, yet revealing, green summer dress that drew attention towards her two soft, ripe mounds. She had a pair of comely brown eyes and a tiny, rounded nose that was surrounded by cherry cheeks. Her gorgeous young looks, coupled with those sensual heart-shaped lips made grown men swallow their saliva. Her young bust filled the dress just a little too nicely, mayhaps due to the fabrics being tighter around the bust area than they should have been.

She was ushered towards the crowd by the innkeeper, who specifically led her towards the young lord. As her shapely silhouette passed Riaz, he felt his heartbeat quicken, fascinated by the smell of her that lingered even after she was gone.

However, not her looks or her flowery smell were his prime concern but her expression that he had clearly seen from up close.

She seemed distraught; something that would have likely escaped his notice, had he not sharpened his senses in that moment. Subtle attempts of hers to turn back were thwarted by the innkeeper just in time and they arrived by the young lord’s side shortly after.

Unbridled hooting and whistling rang throughout the tavern and the excitement reached a peak with the arrival of the little beauty.

Among them all, the young lord sat with reddened cheeks, barely able to contain his gaze. He resigned himself to throwing her a few shy glances, acting with a modicum of aloofness.

“Oho~ ain’t that a pretty lil miss… What do you say, nephew? You can round off your birthday with this delicate flower to accompany you.” The uncle pulled a bald man in by the shoulder. “Jonan here told me how you’ve built up an appetite for the girl.”

The fit baldy with the uncle’s arm wrapped around his shoulder gave the young lord a playful wink.

“No, uncle… this… I,” stammered the young lord and slightly fidgeted on the stool he was sitting on. “You shouldn’t have…”

The uncle repeatedly clapped the young lord’s shoulder, laughing off the boy’s timidness. Meanwhile, the girl curled her fingers around the hem of her dress with her eyes cast down.

“Poor lass, seemed the stars tonight spell her misfortune. M’lords have a reputation of soiling and despoiling wher’ver their eyes take shine.”

An old fogey with tanned skin and a straw hat spoke up next to Riaz, taking a puff from his tobacco pipe, then pulled down the front end of his hat, turning a blind eye to the plight of the young maiden.

Riaz raised an eyebrow and asked in a lowered voice, “Senior, who are those people?”

“Mmm, the man in charge, tis none other than the Viscount’s brother, Viram Hobb. You’re better off going about your business and not his.” The old man flicked his pipe and faint embers sprayed out of the wider end.

“Viscount…” Riaz quietly repeated the title that, according to his knowledge, was one of the lowest ranks of nobility in the kingdom, but it was still nobility none the less. A nobody like him couldn’t compare.

He watched as Viram Hobb helped the girl to her seat, which not so coincidentally was the young lord’s lap.

‘These actions are in such poor taste.’ Riaz thought.

The innkeeper returned to his previous post. No longer intent on spectating this sorry affair, Riaz made his way towards the counter, all the while keeping an eye out for his teacher.

With no sight of him, Riaz considered inquiring with the innkeeper to find out whether his teacher had rented their rooms yet, but his arrival went largely unnoticed by the nervous man. Even after having cleared his throat, Riaz failed to draw attention to himself and helplessly stood around.

He wasn’t too sure how to address the innkeeper at this point without sounding too rough.

‘How strange. Obviously neither are too thrilled about the situation, so why are they playing along?’ Riaz felt like he had struck upon an unpleasant point with his thoughts.

He placed down the bags, then raised his voice. It wasn’t loud enough to overturn the unbridled guests, but enough to reach the innkeeper’s ears with a firm tone.

“Mister, you seem to share a bond with that girl, so why do you force her to serve that unpleasant guy?”

He clearly implied that the girl was unwilling and that it was plain to see. By asking, he openly questioned the farce that was playing out before them.

The innkeeper drew closer and leaned forward over the counter. With a hushed voice he said, “Do you think I want to? That’s my little girl, but what can I do? Young man, it’s not as simple as you think. Clearly you are new in town.”

“Why are you like this?” asked Riaz, leaning forward himself.

“These men are dangerous, laddie. That Viram Hobb is tyrannical and has amassed terrible repute by soliciting people, extorting them and all while relying on his brother’s name to get away with it.”

The innkeeper swallowed hard with a pale face. He stiffly placed his palms onto the counter, not sure how to give voice to his anguish.

“If I denied their request, my daughter and I would have to suffer more than this humiliation. I have no choice in this matter.” He said with a hardened face.

Disdain crept onto Riaz’s face after hearing the innkeeper’s words. ‘No choice? I can only imagine what a dilemma he finds himself in, but still…’

This sort of injustice should be directly reported to a higher ranked noble, that’s what he wanted to say, but Riaz knew better. Despite lacking experience, he instinctively knew that it was easier said than done.

Without a doubt, there were brave people who once tried to report such matters in the past, but powerful people had their own ways of keeping mouths shut.

‘Injustice runs rampant even in the townships, not to speak of bandits roaming the lands.’ Riaz understood that injustice wasn’t exclusive to one part of the world.

Riaz looked away helplessly, taking note of the awkward mood permeating the room. You had unbridled cheers and rampant behavior in the center area, then waiters and normal guests fanned out along the edges of the room, most quietly drinking with their face buried in their cups, acting blind to the elephant in the room.

It was only when one soul had enough of this charade and stood up to leave that Riaz understood why nobody had left yet.

Anyone who tried to leave would draw the eye of one of Viram’s men, who’d promptly blow a fuse, accusing them of disrespecting the young lord on his birthday. One could hardly tell that the entire tavern was being held hostage.

‘What a joke.’ Riaz scoffed and reached for a bowl with snacks, tossing an assortment of nuts and berries into his open mouth, then a young waiter came over to inform the innkeeper of Viram’s demand to bring out the cask.

Riaz watched as the innkeeper reached underneath the counter and pulled out a cask, which he lifted over his chubby shoulder and carried to Viram’s group.

Once placed on a firm table, a waiter used a metal tap to break into the cask, after which he was shoved aside by a man who then helped himself to a swig. Viram himself grabbed a big pitcher and filled it to the brim, then shoved the drink into his nephew’s face.

“Drink! You need to loosen up, nephew, how can you be a man when you don’t take the lead? So drink and feel up the bounty in your hands!” He laughed on the surface, but one could tell that his eyes weren’t laughing.

The young lord acted bashful and stammered, “But uncle, doing all this… a-and in public, it’s unbecoming of a noble. Lord father would scold me to no end.”

“Pah! What lord father?” Viram sneered. “Where’s your father when his son is celebrating his birthday? What good does it to hold yourself to his screwed up ideals? Listen to me for once and you’ll be happier guaranteed.”

His uncle’s words struck a cord with the young lord.

He was the third-born son of House Hobb, of which his father was the head. Ever since he could remember, his father never treated him like a son, no, he was no more than a disappointment. Both his father and his siblings viewed him as nothing but the trash of the family.

He had done everything that he could to make his father acknowledge him. He studied hard, he trained hard. He had done anything to be noticed, but his siblings always stole the limelight. Only his uncle had always stood with him. Yes, in the entire family only his uncle truly treated him like family.

The young lord, who was wavering at first, acknowledged, “Uncle knows best.”

“Ghahaha, that’s how it should be!” said Viram and the drink, that he was holding, swiftly changed hands.

The young lord threw back his head and gulped down everything in one go. His actions were bolstered by the cheers and whistles of the men. All the positive reinforcement truly emboldened him.

He slammed the pitcher onto the table and pulled the girl on his lap closer. He still hesitated, but then mustered his courage to quickly grasp her breast with one hand and started fondling it.

“N-No…” A muffled cry came from the girl’s mouth, but after exchanging looks with her father, who was standing to the side, boxed in between two big fellas, she bit her lip and kept her silence.

However, the tears forming on her eyes didn’t escape the innkeeper’s notice.

He felt a heavy tug on his heart and his guilt overcame him in that very moment. He clamored and commanded the men to let his daughter off, but his futile efforts were shot down just as quickly as they had begun.

One of Viram’s men drove his fist into the innkeepers face, firmly planting his fat arse onto the ground.

“Don’t spoil the mood, man. Can’t ya see our young lord is finally enjoying himself?” One shifty eyed fella held the innkeeper down as the others mocked his helplessness.

Viram grimaced and yelled at the innkeeper, “You dogfart, here I thought we were on the same page. All you had to do was sit tight and you’d have a friend in me, the Viscount’s brother.”

Viram was growing furious. That round fellow, how dared he to act up in his presence?

He was so close to winning his nephew over. The boy was his ticket to a prosperous future, a part of Viram’s scheme to supplant his brother and enjoy a greater taste of life. Everything was running smoothly and his hold of his nephew’s ear had grown strong, so how could he allow anyone to ruin his plans in this crucial moment?

His face turned red looking at the innkeeper, “Bah, I can’t stand looking at your face.”

He grew angrier as he spoke and prepared to deliver a kick to the innkeeper, but the girl frantically cried out, until the young lord chose to intervene on her behalf.

Raising one hand, he said, “Uncle! It’s quite alright, let’s not waste strength on such mindless brutality, my flower doesn’t like it.”

Viram quickly put on an amicable expression and rubbed his hands together. “Of course, nephew, haha. Here, let uncle give you a toast.”

The young lord nodded and the two of them shared another drink, after which he brought his face close to the girl and sniffed her hair, making the girl jerk up when she realised what he was doing.

He whispered into her ear, “Mhm, am I getting drunk? I am not always like this… why not choose me? I will rule this land in the future and you could be the dame by my side.”

His heated breath brushed against her neck and his hand grew increasingly more daring under the influence. It wasn’t long until his hand slid past her hip and across her soft thigh.

Viram watched with satisfaction. The young lord was sure to remember this night, to his uncle’s merit. Viram’s anger from before cleared up, replaced by a boisterous laugh that rang everybody’s ears.

As the young lord’s hand slipped under her dress, reaching for the honey, the girl resisted and cried out for him to stop. Deaf to her pleas, the young lord gripped her wrist to keep her from flaying around.

Clearly he had misjudged his own strength and ended up pressing her harder than intended.

“You are hurting me! P-please, let me go. I don’t want any of this.” She began to sob.

“Daughter!” The innkeeper exclaimed with panic in his voice, but couldn’t do anything.

Next to the walnut counter, Riaz reached the limit of his patience and his hand reached for the bowl of snacks, intent to throw it. He hoped that his aim stayed true and the bowl would hit that disgusting weasel right in the face.

Halfway into the throw, someone snatched him by the wrist, causing the snacks to scatter around and the bowl to drop to the floor with a clank.

Riaz resisted, but no amount of strength could free his hand.

“Who?” Riaz turned his head, discovering that a cloaked figure with a hood obscuring their features stood behind him.

“It’s me.” Aldean’s voice rang out.

“Teacher?” Riaz, who had tensed up, immediately relaxed his shoulders.

Aldean admonished Riaz firmly, “What do you think you’re doing? Can you stomach the consequences?”

Gnashing his teeth, Riaz brusquely pulled back the arm that his teacher was holding onto. Although Aldean had let go, Riaz’s hands still trembled afterwards.

“I can’t watch this injustice, teacher. It’s too much. What else am I supposed to do?”

Aldean sneered, “If you are done pitying the weak, then let us go up to our rooms and unpack. Don’t draw too much attention to yourself, you hear?”

“But…”

Aldean promptly cut him off, “I mean it.”

“Teacher, can we do nothing? You are strong, aren’t you?” Riaz appealed to Aldean.

“This does not involve us, so cool your head. Why should we tangle with nobility, especially when we have no time to lose on meaningless spur of the moment decisions?” Aldean patted Riaz’s shoulder and turned.

Riaz stood quietly with his eyes lowered. Aldean took it as a sign of Riaz seeing sense, but he knew not how wrong he was.

“Hey, you! That so-called noble over there. Can you turn the other way? Your hideous mug is spoiling my appetite here.” Riaz yelled, his voice dousing the cheers and jolting the various onlookers.

Many heads turned, trying to locate the person daring enough to speak those words. Eventually, many eyes landed on Riaz who stood his ground amidst the many cold gazes penetrating him.

“You unruly disciple!” Aldean transmitted his voice for Riaz to hear. It was the first time that Riaz heard his teacher’s angry tone, but, no matter how much he feared his teacher, there was no way for him to stop now.

At the center of the ensuing commotion, Viram raised a hand, silencing his men before their drunkenness and anger got the better of them, after which he spoke up in a cold tone.

“Boy, you’ve strayed far from the crib and into the lion’s den. Even a lamb knows to act meek in front of its superior.”

“Act meek? Pfft, just a bunch of trash, what is superior about a bastard that can’t get a woman without using coercion.” Riaz blatantly stared at the young lord. “A real man you are…”

Each word of his last sentence was spoken slowly and clearly, carrying an obvious hint of mockery.

The entire room was set abuzz and both the armed men as well as the onlookers and workers couldn’t believe what words were coming out of this brazen youth’s mouth.

Didn’t he know who he was talking to? No, he clearly must have known, but could he be tired of living?

A vein popped out on Viram’s temple and his eyes grew dark. It had already taken all of his restraint not to chop this kid up and throw him to the dogs to eat. How dare this commoner throw a wrench into his plans?

Viram ordered his men to grab Riaz, but his nephew put a stop to him once again, unable to overlook the provocation.

“Wait, uncle!” The young lord turned his face towards Riaz and said, “Here I was wondering where the stench came from, but it turns out that a country bumpkin has stumbled into this place.”

With glazed eyes, he noticed that the girl in his arms, for some reason, was looking upon that other young man with a faint lustre in her eyes, expectant perhaps.

Something about it displeased him. She was his and she wouldn’t even look upon him, but was he in any way inferior? What was so great about that insufferable pest?

Looking closer at the other, he had to admit that Riaz was quite handsome and his odd hair color surely drew a great many inquisitive eyes towards him. That’s when he remembered something he once heard of in the past.

The young lord hugged the girl closer and remarked, “What quaint hair you have, commoner. Did you know that it has long been said how those with ash grey hair like yours are the devil’s spawn?”

He smiled sinisterly and raised one of his hands to rally others, “Everyone! Don’t you think that such a bad omen must be expunged promptly? Uncle, don’t you think so?”

Viram’s eyes widened slightly, not knowing what his nephew was planning. It was true that stories of people born with ashen hair had been passed down for many years with none painting them in a good light, but many generations had passed since anyone had last seen one such person.

“That’s right, nephew.” He said, choosing to play along. What else could he do at this point? He knew that his nephew had an inferiority complex and a habit of lashing out against those below him.

The young lord violently pushed the girl off and stood up. He clapped his hands together once, “Excellent! Someone lend me a sword, I, Volan Hobb, will right nature’s wrong.”

Volan flashed an inebriated grin, then looked down upon the girl with disdain in his eyes.

He realised for himself that his sincere feelings were wasted on her. She was nothing but a dirty whore in his eyes, thus he would cut the ashen haired youth down, then drag her to a room and teach her how to properly reciprocate his favor.

Aldean, the entire time, stuck to the background not to get involved. He watched his disciple’s every action, waiting to see what choices he would make.

All eyes were now on Riaz. The young lord made his intentions clear: he would have his head.

Since he dared open his mouth, Riaz naturally understood that violence would thus be unavoidable. While he hated violence, neither his current nor past self could possibly stand for such an injustice.

It was a matter of principle. Why did he strive for strength in the first place? To watch people get hurt before his eyes? He wouldn’t suffer any such sight before him and feel powerless to do anything.

He’d stand by no longer.

“Fine… if that is how it’s going to be, then let’s go outside,” said Riaz with viciousness in his voice.