The entire tavern went into an uproar and Volan, the third son of the Viscount, welcomed everyone to witness the spectacle to come.

He felt assured in his victory, knowing he had been diligently practicing swordsmanship and had even received a recommendation to attend the academy in the capital later that year.

What danger could this commoner boy pose to him? He would show everyone why nobles were a cut above, then even that girl would have to accept reality as it was.

"Heh." Volan chuckled and led everyone outside.

Blending in with the crowd, Aldean followed, his eyes glued to the back of the young Riaz.

Gradually, the guests from the inn formed a circle outside. The commotion swept through the local district of the town, cutting into the tranquility of the night with the ever-growing crowd luring in more and more bystanders with each passing second.

The curious souls who had arrived late, inquired about the reason behind the late unrest.

The whispers of people filled the air and gradually their eyes fixed on two young men, who, for the sake of a girl, chose to duel each other, or so the rumour went.

The rumour was spicy and travelled fast, drawing in more people and waking the nearby residents, who in turn clamored before leaning over the windows to spectate.

As for the two young men, who stood at the center of attention, they had long since begun their preparations while Viram's men took it upon themselves to rally the crowd and paint their young lord in a grandiose light.

Those efforts naturally came at the expense of Riaz, who they described as a devil's child, demon, villain borne and a vicious animal lusting for women. They assured the crowd that their young lord would mete out justice on behalf of all.

People who lived in Gridan or came by on a regular had heard of Viram Hobb before in one way or another. They were reasonably doubtful towards the words spoken by Viram's group and were more inclined to believe, like the rest, that it was a conflict of love.

None of the slander got a reaction out of Riaz. Contrary to most people's expectations, the youngster remained steadfast and collected.

People made way for Riaz as he dragged a leather bag with him, coming to a stop by the wall of the tavern.

His mind was focused as he rummaged through the bag of swords and ended up fishing out a straight sword with a long, one-sided edge.

He scrutinised the shape of the blade closely, touching it from the pommel to the end of the blade, and carefully felt its balance.

When his eyes left the blade, they returned to Volan, who was flourishing a borrowed sword. It looked remarkable, although Riaz had doubts towards the sword's practicality.

Riaz wouldn't be surprised if Volan had chosen the sword based on its appearance alone.

'Whatever, it's better for me if he looks down on me that much.'

After declaring his challenge against Riaz, the young lord had not once deemed it worthwhile to take a look at him. Evidently, Volan thought of him as a weak country bumpkin that he could butcher like a chicken whenever he pleased.

All that was left was for Riaz himself to see where this young noble's confidence came from.

If all the young lord was capable of was wag his tongue, then getting hurt was inevitable, although Riaz really wished that he could avoid bloodshed.

To begin with, while he knew he had come on a little bit strong, he didn't expect a young noble's ego to be so fragile as to hand him a death sentence.

In retrospect, Riaz understood why everyone urged him not to meddle in a noble's business.

Aldean, who stood farther along the same wall, transmitted last minute advice into his ear.

The method Aldean used to speak to him was not something Riaz could reciprocate, thus he pretended to talk to himself in deep thought. His teacher's senses were sharp enough to pick up on those words.

Riaz observed his opponent's weapon and explained, "It's a curved sword, excelling at close range with swift slashes to wear down the enemy, if needed. Its curved blade is unsuited for direct thrusts but can still stab me from weird angles."

Aldean approved and threw a furtive glance at Riaz's sword.

As Riaz moved away, Aldean imparted some last words of warning.

The tone of his voice seemed cold, making Riaz pause his steps for a moment.

'What is he saying? Surely he wouldn't let me die, right? Although...' Riaz shuddered.

Was there truly no bailing out? This cold reminder left him with a tinge of dread. What if the situation spiraled further out of control?

Seeing his disciple's hesitation, Aldean added, "Show me what you've learned so far and win. If you get killed by this runt, then I guess that's all you've ever amounted to. Don't blame me for being cold-hearted."

Having said all there was to say, Aldean slipped back into the crowd, leaving Riaz to finish his mental preparations.

The ashen-haired boy resumed his steps but was quickly obstructed by the girl of the hour.

Riaz had gleaned enough from the close-by chatter to learn that her name was Salara.

He came to think that he should have at least known her name before standing up for her, but, then again, was he really standing up for her sake?

Salara clasped her hands together, her countenance fairing better compared to earlier. The mistreatment she had to endure was nothing to scoff at, but, despite everything, she did well to keep her wits about her.

"Hey, uhm... y-you don't really have to do this. This has nothing to do with you." Salara fidgeted on the spot. "I'll j-just apologize to them and maybe you can find an opportunity to run. You shouldn't risk your life for me, so..."

Salara lowered her head and avoided eye-contact. Riaz wasn't sure what to think, but her tone came across as sincere and he had no reason to doubt her words.

Appreciating her concern, he then had a good look at her from up close. He had realized it before, but she sure was pretty.

Seeing her with her hands folded together above her heaving chest held a certain allure during this dangerous hour. Riaz again picked up on the sweet smell from earlier. He couldn't stop his eyes from drifting across her face, thereafter landing on her soft lips that trembled slightly when she noticed his gaze.

Riaz cleared his throat with a stiff face and said, "Don't speak nonsense. I won't back out of this. This injustice cannot stand, so move aside and watch me. I'll deal with that prick."

He dismissed Salara and determination filled his eyes. Sooner or later he'd have to fight anyway. Now that it had come to this, though he admittedly acted on impulse, there was no better opportunity to test his mettle against a peer.

Naturally, he was afraid, but wasn't that a given? He wasn't the type to be overconfident, nor someone ignorant of his own mortality.

As per his own thinking, he did see the appeal of his teacher's definition of a warrior. Aldean said that what a warrior needed most was grit. Then, could he call himself a warrior if he cowered back there and pretended not to see? Wasn't that cowardly? No, he would not cower, else he would regret it later, especially when people important to him got hurt.

He moved into position, standing to the opposite of his opponent, amidst a circle of spectators who either wished him harm or looked upon him with a trace of pity.

Drawing a lung-full of air, he settled his emotions. His fingers trembled on the hilt of the sword. He slowly drew the blade out. It was as if the polished sheen of his weapon rendered the crowd silent, or maybe it was his own mind tuning out the irrelevant sounds. His eyes were tightly shut during the process.

'What is this prickly feeling? Such a hair-raising feeling, haven't I felt it before? When was it?'

At that time he didn't immediately recognize the feeling of killing intent directed towards him. He opened his shut eyes and directed his gaze at his opponent, who was staring back at him. Volan's face, although a faint smile was shown, couldn't hide the venomous look in its eyes.

'Is that guy actually aiming to kill me?' Riaz still couldn't make sense of it but then again he had hardly experienced the many ways a human is capable of holding grudges.

And what was all that crap about his hair? Riaz didn't buy all that nonsense about him being a devil's spawn.

'Why would anyone want to kill someone based on their hair color?' He shook his head. 'No, this guy is just rotten, is all.'

There was no point thinking. He had done all he could and his opponent on the other side seemed to have finished his preparations as well.

Volan took a stance and playfully twirled the curved sword with his right hand as the palm of the other hand slightly faced forward.

Riaz exhaled, drawing the last of his sword, then threw aside the scabbard.

Not wasting any more time, Riaz kicked off the ground and lunged in the direction of Volan. In a calculated effort, his feet came to a complete stop, inches away from where the tip of Volan's sword passed through.

Riaz had estimated the reach of the sword and anticipated the opponent's reaction. With both hands clasping the hilt of his own sword, he swung high from below. Volan dodged to the side without much effort and quickly re-adjusted the angle of his sword before slashing towards Riaz, his foot taking a big step forward.

His opponent was fast and his control of qi precise, but fortunately not at the Expert level yet. He would be troubled, if Volan was capable of using qi reinforcement to cover his blade or even his skin.

With his opponent closing in, Riaz had to retreat and maintain the distance. He had chosen his weapon knowing it was longer and more durable than Volan's. To give up that advantage would be a waste.

As the two exchanged moves, he tried to leverage the weight of his sword to disarm the opponent, but found the execution of it too difficult. Maybe, if the skill-gap between them was wider, he could have succeeded, but as things stood now, he was cutting it close.

Since he was losing options, Riaz began to attack a little more recklessly, risking injury to himself.

He swung his sword with a big wind-up, at the intention of performing a faint. His qi surged and he controlled the muscles in his upper body to abruptly halt the blade mid-swing. Volan, who had dodged, was caught off-guard when Riaz followed up with a cut kick towards his right shoulder.

The kick connected and sent Volan reeling. His entire sword-arm shook, no doubt having taken injury, but he played it off for the crowd, resuming his cocky demeanor.

"You've really done it now. Don't expect to leave here alive." Volan opened the communications between them, buying time for himself.

"Talk big after the duel, you dog. The way I see it, you are nothing but a spoiled brat who hides behind his daddy." Riaz sneered, balancing his blade horizontally in front of him. He closed on eye, aligning his perspective of the blade to overlap with Volan's neck.

"You..." Volan's face turned sour from the insults raining down on him. Never had a commoner dared to talk to him in such a way.

"Such impudence!" The curved sword turned with a change of his stance, therefore putting Riaz on alert. As anticipated, Volan took a drastic approach and gathered all his speed to shoot past Riaz, simultaneously swinging towards his flank.

With little to no time to react, Riaz twisted his body, but couldn't prevent a gash from forming underneath his right ribcage. Blood spurted from his wound and the few faint-hearted people, who managed to see despite the dark, gasped in shock.

Since it was so dark, it was difficult to tell how deep the wound was, but Riaz had no time to worry about that.

He desperately brought his weapon around to fend off Volan's next sweep of the blade. The metal rang as both blades collided.

Riaz steadied his feet and roared. Before Volan could recover from their clash, Riaz swung the sword sideways in as wide an arc as he could realistically manage without risking his balance.

His opponent nimbly stepped back, the increasing precision behind his movements becoming a cause for worry. Riaz could tell that Volan had sobered up by now.

'I have to calm down.' The gears in his head spun wildly with him coming to realise how the prolonged exchange was taking a toll on his state of mind.

He knew he had to gather his wits or risk making a mistake.

His entire body was shaking, was he perhaps being overwhelmed by fear? Riaz wanted to calm his nerves, but his enemy relentlessly assaulted him with swift movements that occasionally slipped past his guard.

The curve of the blade was too daunting.

"Know... your... place! Ha!" hollered Volan as he applied more pressure on Riaz. The rush from the battle seemed to affect him even more than Riaz, allowing the latter to come to a realization.

'The shoulder, I am positive that I've cracked his bones, but because of his fervor I was led to believe he was fine.'

Upon a closer look, Riaz saw the flaws in Volan's attacks. There was no real strength behind those swings, fast as they were. He knew that he himself had panicked and played into his opponent's rhythm, failing to see the obvious.

'I have to cross blades with him to fully confirm it.' Riaz gripped the sword firmly in one hand, then stabbed out while his body shot forward.

Unable to dodge such a quick thrust, Volan met the sword with the back of his own blade, weakly deflecting the attack to the side. During that moment, he couldn't prevent Riaz's sword from grazing him, which was all the confirmation Riaz needed.

However, the thrust left Riaz vulnerable to the unique properties of Volan's sword. Using the back of the blade to deflect, Volan found an opportunity to counter. Almost like a serpent writhing around Riaz's sword, the curved blade struck towards his arm.

'Not good!'

The alarms inside Riaz's head blared, warning him that he couldn't possibly avoid the sword in time. His mind raced and it felt as though the moment itself stretched into eternity. In that moment, his deepest instincts kicked in.

The chest-area around his heart began to hurt as qi surged with newfound intensity. Unbeknownst to him, a faintly glowing layer formed around his arm, flickering into existence for the shortest of moments, but just in time to bounce back the cold steel with a dull clank.

Aldean's eyes widened. He saw it clearly, without a doubt. That was qi reinforcement in it's infant stages. Riaz had subconsciously conjured a layer of qi that served as armor for him in the crucial moment.

Volan's blade shook visibly, as did his arm, thus re-igniting the pain in his shoulder. But not just him, even Riaz couldn't come out completely unscathed.

A copper taste spread within Riaz's mouth and his legs trembled. Both combatants had yet to recover from the clash and the tension in the crowd grew higher. The outcome hung in the balance at that precise moment and it all depended on who would recover first.

Volan found what happened hard to swallow. He was sure he'd have that arm, but he knew what he felt. It's like he smashed his blade against a rock.

He was unwilling to accept this sort of thing, to accept that a country bumpkin could fight with him on equal footing. Such a public humiliation, it would without a doubt reach his father's ears later on.

Even if he won now, the victory would feel rather empty and his reputation would still plummet.

His complex relationship to his father, the Viscount, weighed on him even now. There was no way other than to cut his losses. He had to end Riaz fast, to kill him, brutally, that was the only way for him to vent his anger.

Volan clenched his teeth and the killing intent in him rose. While Riaz still faltered from their clash, Volan disregarded the pain in his arm to swing his blade down on the vertical. He rampaged with blow after blow descending towards Riaz.

"Why ... won't ... you ... die?!" Volan yelled with rampant flames of anger in his chest.

Faint sparks flew from the clashing metal. Riaz blocked from below, using his free hand to support the blade. Vague sensations flooded him, like an out of body experience.

'Why... ain't that a familiar feeling?' Some fleeting memories flashed before his mind's eye and the pace of his heart quickened even more, hammering inside his chest like banging drums.

His scalp tingled and he felt like he knew what to do. He entrusted himself to the feeling and the unusual occurred.

A few murmurous words escaped his lips and his qi quaked subtly in response.

"Imperial Style..."

He drew a sharp breath, then pulled back his empty hand and allowed his opponent's blade to slide down his.

His feet blurred in a golden hue and the rest of his body coordinated with the motions, whirling him around.

As Riaz turned, he pulled along his sword and drew a whirling path around him. By the time the sword passed around Riaz once, it already hung above Volan's sword and sharply descended in a precise chopping motion.

*clank*

Volan's blade was cleanly split in half, a part dropping onto the cold pavement. Riaz withdrew his sword and slowly breathed out. The mysterious feeling left him and he became aware of the outcome.

'This sensation... I want to experience it again.'

He watched as Volan fell to his knees. The hand holding the grip of his sword trembled, then slowly released its clutches.

"Im-Impossible..." Volan was in severe disbelief. What had just happened? Didn't he have the upper hand?

Riaz lowered his head, taking in the sight of his bested foe. "You've lost," he said and placed the tip of his blade underneath Volan's chin.

"Don't come anywhere near the girl again. It's time you owned up to your responsibilities as a noble and stopped acting like a piece of crap."

He withdrew his sword, albeit a little disappointed. The crowd had grown quiet. No one cheered for him, the contender on the side of justice.

'What a rotten peoples.' Riaz sneered in his heart.

He walked up to the scabbard of his sword and collected it from the ground. He looked around, searching the crowd for the silhouette of his teacher and found it.

The adrenaline coursing through him had yet to subside when he discovered Aldean with his arm hooked around a bonny lady's waist.

He raised his sword with a swelling chest and was about to call out to him in excitement, but Aldean shook his head at him.

Riaz smiled wryly and the eyes of master and disciple met. Contrary to his expectations, Aldean's face gave away no feelings of being proud, happy or even angry.

Riaz, slowly calming down, couldn't help but wonder whether his teacher had been watching his match earlier or not. Was this really the time to be picking up ladies?

Aldean's voice entered Riaz's ears.

The crowd exclaimed loudly, amongst them even a few shrill cries that rattled Riaz's senses awake.

'Wha—'

His head turned, realizing that Volan was upon him with the broken sword. The fractured end of the blade tore through the fabric of his shirt and dug into skin and flesh. All last ditch efforts to minimize the damage couldn't help him to avoid injury.

A pained moan breached Riaz's clenched teeth. His first reaction was to tighten the grip on his sword and swing it behind him to deflect another incoming strike.

Towering anger swept over his heart, then the scabbard in his other hand shot towards Volan's right shoulder, causing his cracked bone to audibly shatter. The audience was filled with shock as Volan dropped to his knees once more.

"Why are you doing this? You, you..." Riaz trembled from rage, his chest pain worsening. He smacked Volan's face with the scabbard, then asked in a loud tone, "Why? How could you sneak an attack? Where is your honor? Answer me, so-called noble!"

Volan grinned manically with blood trickling down his lips.

"Move aside! Move aside, I said. What by the gods is going on here?" A group of uniformed cavalrymen drove a wedge through the crowd and approached the center.

Viram intercepted the rider in the lead and hailed them. The one in the front, a brown haired man clad in simple armor led the group. His most striking feature was a vicious burn scar that covered near half of his face. His eyes looked weary with bags underneath them.

"Vice-Captain Eustace, what brings you here after the bell-ring?" Viram straightened his back and put on an authoritative demeanor.

"Huh, the esteemed Viram Hobb, well wouldn't you know. Are you asking as though unaware of the crowd?" Eustace dismounted, along with most of his men.

"Hah, my nephew was celebrating his sixteenth birthday. 'Tis natural that perhaps the excitement overtook us, we've had a few couple of drinks." Viram chuckled.

Eustace casually turned his eyes towards Riaz, his gaze then lingering on Volan as understanding dawned upon him.

"You are up to your usual shenanigans, huh?" Eustace's firm gaze pierced into Viram. "Perhaps, I should investigate this matter clearly."

He raised his hand and signaled towards his subordinates, who then began to disperse the crowd.