In a different quarter, far from the hustle and bustle of the common folk, stood the Viscount’s estate. Anyone could see the towering mansion from blocks away; such was the intention of the one who first built it.

A terrace, overlooking a beautiful garden, was bathed in orange light thanks to the rising sun. At the center, amongst arranged flower beds, two noblemen were seated, facing the same way, with cups of high grade tea set on the round table between them.

The female servant, who brought out the tea, put down a tea pot and hugged a silver tray as she bowed and excused herself.

The two noblemen paid her no mind and stared into the distance, until one deemed to break the silence.

“Your grace, the Blade King should arrive soon. I really can’t help but wonder what has sparked your sudden interest. Perhaps, is he in any way related to your house?”

The one speaking was a stout fellow with bushy sideburns, which had gone grey from age, as did the receding hair on his scalp. His face shared great similarity with Volan’s; who else could it be other than Viscount Hobb?

It was not so long ago that he had received news of his third son’s death, but one would find themself unable to pick up on any changes in his mood.

The loss of a child seemed to affect him very little, since the boy was a good-for-nothing that compared in no way to the first, who was the golden child of their family, nor the second who held onto high scholastic ambitions and showed great promise.

Still, he would have to display a measured amount of grief to the public; such was necessary to maintain his image. What was a noble without their image after all?

He was a proud man, but even he played second fiddle to his prestigious guest, eagerly awaiting his reply, until the other finally spoke.

“The Blade King… well let us say I am perhaps a little curious. I would like to see for myself whether the estranged son of that bumbling fool Albeus has any lingering sentiments towards his former family or not.”

The other noble sampled the tea and spoke his compliments, then looked out towards the sun and said, “Aldean Fullock, if I could draw him to my side… it would hardly suffice to call it anything short of a blessing.”

The speaker was a tall, lofty gentleman; he was the one who commanded all of the Viscount’s attention. Although he had arrived announced, Viscount Hobb would never dare to refuse this personage.

The one seated next to him was none other than Duke Moréy after all. Within the kingdom, it would be no exaggeration to call him one of the most influential people next to the queen herself.

He had a cleanly shaven face that retained its youthful vigour well into his late forties and a prominent jaw that really enunciated his masculinity. His hair was a little short, but rich in volume; it had a densely combed shape on top, groomed to be pleasant to the eye.

“Fullock? Correct me, if I am wrong, your grace, but hasn’t that house declined greatly in past generations?” inquired the Viscount carefully, one hand stiffly plopping a cube of sugar after another into his tea.

“That may be so, but they still have their use, as do you. I see no reason to discard a card that is still useful, do you, Viscount?” Duke Moréy gave the Viscount a side-glance full of meaning.

Viscount Hobb cleared his throat nervously. “Well of course not, your grace.”

The Duke placed down his cup and the tone of his voice departed from the earlier peacefulness.

He said, “Then I am sure you have good news for me concerning the matter I have entrusted you with.”

“Ah, that…” The Viscount leaned against the chair with a straight back and reported, “The old spell-weavers have made progress, but I’ve been informed of some concerns—”

The Duke slammed his fist onto the tea table, “What trifling concerns? I do not care about the worries of men with one foot in the grave. I only care that they complete what they’re tasked with, nothing less.”

The Viscount stood up anxiously and turned to face the Duke, wildly gesturing with his arm.

“Your grace, the ancient barrier is more complex than we initially thought and to proceed now, carelessly at that, would come with the risk of dragging all of Gridan into ruin. Please, we need more time to prepare before proceeding any further.”

The Duke thought deeply, then waved his hand. “So what if we lose a measly Gridan. How does it compare to the benefits? As long as nobody finds out that we’re involved, what is there to fear?”

Viscount Hobb nervously adjusted his bow-tie and said, “Her Highness has grown suspicious. Furtive inquiries were made and the false information we have planted should only be able to lead her along for so long. I worry that even if we continued now, we would still not evade her notice.”

Duke Moréy re-assured him, “Her Highness’ influence has grown weak. She does not have a reliable backer anymore and it’s just a matter of time until her court is undermined. Have you recently made a trip to the capital, Viscount? The people’s trust in her is waning and they will come to realize before long that they need a strong leader, someone who can reclaim the former glory of Veluria.

He scoffed, “Weak women have no place ruling a kingdom.”

His expression grew increasingly ruthless as he continued, “If you do your job well, you can rest assured that I will bestow upon you an even greater territory. Do not disappoint me, Viscount.”

The Viscount’s face lit up upon hearing those words, “You can count on me. I shan’t fail your trust, your grace.”

He felt truly elated. He had done right to follow Duke Moréy. How else could a man of his position ever hope to make it big on his own? He wasn’t strong, but he knew to grease the right palms and to kiss the right feet.

Suddenly, the Duke turned his face to the side, glancing over his shoulder and his ruthless expression faded, replaced by an amicable smile.

He spoke with slight anticipation in his voice, “It looks like my guest has arrived.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind blew over the garden and a ragged warrior, clad in a cuirass and skirt made of leather, stood before the two noblemen.

“Nice garden,” remarked Aldean with little emotion.

The gust settled and Viscount Hobb opened his eyes to find some of his precious roses snapped in two. His contented bearing faltered and he stammered, “Y-you…”

He was truly aghast. Those roses were carefully cultivated by him in his past-time. He took great pride in how they had turned out and took pride in being able to display them to his guests.

Aldean stared back at him and his aura rose to a level of intensity which swept the Viscount right off his feet and into his chair, rocking it back with force.

Unable to endure the humiliation, Viscount Hobb wanted to protest, but Duke Moray raised one hand, forcing him to swallow the insult.

That entire time, the Duke showed no sign of being pushed back, instead the gleam of his eyes seemed to clearly cut through the provocation and squarely landed on Aldean’s face.

Duke Moréy chuckled coldly, then remarked, “The face… just like the father’s, that is if he had the spine to look at me with the same impudence.”

He rested his arm on the armrest and propped his head up, calmly eyeing the expression on Aldean’s face.

“Then again, I believe anyone would find it hard to remember the face of good Albeus, considering he is forced to walk with his head lowered wherever he goes.”

Aldean ignored the snide comments and spoke, “Have you invited me over just to look at my handsome face? If that’s the case, you could have sent over a painter instead of an incompetent boot-licker.”

“I am not that boorish to take up your time for trivial things like your face,” retorted Duke Moray. “More importantly, I cannot help but feel that you hold some prejudice towards me, Blade King, and I find it to be a shame, truly.”

Duke Moray casually gestured towards Aldean and said, “There is no reason to look at me like I’m the enemy. I am not responsible for bringing your house down, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be the one responsible for raising it up again.”

Aldean exhaled with a deep “Hoh?”

Taking Aldean’s reaction as a sign of interest, Duke Moray explained, “As a matter of fact, I could use your assistance in a matter. You have my assurance that the rewards at the end of the task will be well worth your time and will reflect well onto your family name.”

“Here I was wondering what reason you’d have to lure me over by mentioning last night’s matter, but it turns out to be the same old tale.” Aldean sighed in fake disappointment.

“Not any old tale, but the old tale. A tale of untold riches, a tale of manifest destiny. Should I, no… we succeed, there is no limit to what we stand to gain.” A mad intensity radiated from the Duke’s eyes as he spoke with ever-increasing fervor.

He added on, “Other masters of your level would, no doubt, salivate at the prospects.”

“Then go ask those others!” shot Aldean back.

Duke Moray shook his head. “If only it were so simple, but there are very few experts I could entrust this matter with, since most either have their loyalties elsewhere or have a downright terrible reputation. You, on the other hand, hold little regard for this kingdom and its people, prefer to live a life unfettered, constantly in cultivation. You are the perfect man for the task in question.”

Aldean didn’t waste any breaths to refuse, “Sorry, but I am not interested. All I really came here for is to make sure you don’t stick your nose into my business.”

“So quick to refuse… but, be that as it may, I won’t force you. As far as the matter concerning the previous night goes, you can rest assured that it’s been settled adequately.”

The Duke put on a face of deep regret, lamenting, “Poor young Hobb, reeling drunk from woes and liquors he chanced upon a group of thieves in the dead of night. It was too late that his mangled body was discovered, robbed of his possessions.”

He gestured towards the Viscount, “The good Viscount right here happens to have a group of layabouts locked in one of the prison cells. They will be publicly executed as part of a major crime fighting campaign to honor his late son.”

The Viscount chimed in with a snort, “Keeping the streets clean for our young; you’d be hard-pressed to find a more noble and compelling pretext to garner public sentiment and to provide enough cause to raise taxes.”

The two noblemen chuckled complacently.

It wasn’t the first time that Aldean witnessed the dealings of nobility and, as much as it was in bad taste, he really wasn’t too concerned with their machinations.

Aldean sneered, “That’s nobility for you. Shameless to a fault.”

“And by right!” said the Duke. “You’ve spent your young days toiling in the sands, so you would know. Whether it’s in Am’Zhadar or the kingdoms, the rules are all the same.”

The Viscount chuckled and sipped his tea, leaving little to imagine of his stance towards the subject.

Aldean crossed his arms and said, “Looks like you’ve done your research on me.”

“I always consider my options carefully, Blade King. Knowledge is of great import for someone of my status. While you have spent your days honing the blade, I have spent mine on the more nuanced areas that came with my position.”

He chuckled, “Without knowledge of both friend and foe, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

“Your sophistry bores me,” said Aldean. “If you have nothing more to say, then I shall take my leave.”

“Are you in such a hurry to leave?” asked the Duke.

He froze briefly upon remembering something and said, “Speaking of knowledge, I’ve heard you have found a disciple. I have a son around the same age; it would be great if they could become friends.”

Duke Moréy picked up his cup once more and took a sip from it, acting unaware of the a changes in the atmosphere.

Hearing his disciple being mentioned, Aldean’s face changed drastically and his body up and vanished, reappearing a mere two feet away from the Duke; his sword was drawn and aimed at his noble throat.

However, before the sword could progress any further, it was blocked by a palm that had seemingly come out of nowhere. A metallic cry rang from the purple sword as it contested the immovable hand.

In the instant, that it took Aldean to attack, another expert had appeared next to the Duke, his aura and palm strike both perfectly nullifying the forces behind Aldean’s strike.

As the two were joined by the edge of the blade, Aldean managed to have a good look at the other’s face. He could tell by the distinct facial features of the expert that the latter most likely hailed from abroad.

His entire appearance suggested so, from the fierce but slanted eyes to the flat facial structure. The other man was a muscular expert, bare-chested with a carefully braided black hair that hung down to the waist, where a red sash tightly wrapped around.

The smug grin, flashed by the expert, scratched Aldean’s ego, coming off as a provocation.

The both of them separated their arms and illusory silhouettes manifested behind their backs. A towering cobra writhed behind Aldean, while a giant asura rose up behind the other expert, directing four gigantic palms at Aldean.

Duke Moray laughed lightheartedly, “So sensitive, but I really mean what I’ve said. Since you are traveling south, why not allow your disciple to pay a visit to my estate in Belfura? I’d be happy to make some arrangements.”

“Dream on!” Aldean stepped back. He scrutinized the expert and sneered, “Looks like you have found a capable hand already.”

The Duke looked at the expert in amusement and laughed. “This is Liufeng, I am sure I don’t have to introduce him further, do I?”

Aldean’s eyes snapped wide open and he exclaimed, “Fist King! Fist King Naked Palm!”

Liufeng grinned and fashioned a few haughty words, “Not bad for a west-kin.”

The introduction of the Fist King came as a surprise even to the Viscount, who placed his palm over his belly and remarked after subtle belch, “I recon he must be quite famous then?”

One could not fault the Viscount for knowing little of this man. The name Naked Palm was not something ordinary folk would have ever heard of on Ardor, since he was a renowned expert from the continent of Zodia which lay to the east.

However, a Manifestation realm expert like Aldean would no doubt be more privy to news and mentions of strong warriors all across the realm.

Just like the title of Blade King, the title of Fist King was yet another title to honor famous Manifestation realm experts. Not all experts of said realm had a title, but those that did were truly either respected or feared for their deeds.

Even the king of a nation would have to show more than a modicum of respect towards such an expert, which makes it seem all the more inappropriate for the Duke to speak to Aldean as a peer.

Still, the aristocracy had their own pride and their own regards towards hierarchy. Things became more often complicated than not whenever cultivators and nobles came together.

Liufeng stood proudly with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his already well-defined muscles bulged even more.

Neither him nor Aldean were truly intent on exchanging pointers at this time and place, but it was apparent from their eyes that the burning desire to battle was present still.

Aldean moved his eyes away from Liufeng and warned, “Duke Slimey, or whatever you call yourself, keep your hands off my disciple.”

He lifted the tip of his sword, pointing it at the Duke. “There is a line you do not cross unless you have truly forgotten the terror of existences like mine.”

There were no attempts to veil the threat and the bluntness of it all was just in line with Aldean’s personality.

Liufeng uncrossed his arms and his elbows touched his waist with clenched fists as he roared, “If you wanna fight, I will gladly accompany you.”

It was his bodyguard who responded to the provocation with an equal measure of bluntness, rather than the Duke himself who seemed unaffected.

Growing tired of the posturing, the Duke calmly called for a cease-fire, “Let’s not devolve further from what once was a simple greeting, gentlemen.”

He directed his gaze at Aldean once again, “My offer stands, Blade King.”

The Duke then glanced at the Viscount and the latter, understanding the former’s intention, clapped his hands a couple of times. A servant arrived at the scene soon after, carrying a small casket.

Aldean appeared visibly confused and the Duke explained, “This is but a gift; think nothing of it. Inside you will find some precious herbs and medicines that should aid your disciple’s recovery.”

“Hmpf, at least you are not wasting my time.” His empty hand reached for the casket. “I won’t be polite then.”

Aldean had already withdrawn his sword at that point and directed his gaze at the Viscount.

“Looks like you are quite reasonable for a noble. When I passed your stables, I happened to see a proud white horse with strong legs and a fiery temper.”

His lips curved up, “Why not gift it to my disciple as a show of good-will?”

He added on, “After all, were it not for your useless brat, my disciple wouldn’t be injured to such a high degree. It’s just right that you compensate us for delaying our journey, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Viscount was speechless. Of course he knew which horse he referred to: it was his priced horse, pure-bred from the finest selection of military horses. Its pedigree was a cut above what your run-off-the-mill citizen could ever hope to even get close to.

“Just give it to him. I will compensate you at a later time,” asserted the Duke.

“But…” The Viscount sighed. “As you wish, your grace.”

He couldn’t go against the Duke’s wishes, so he had to begrudgingly acquiesce to Aldean’s demand. They ended up discussing it in more detail and the Viscount passed the instructions to his servant.

The Duke had no more business with Aldean and the Viscount was too eager to be rid of his presence, thus Aldean decided to finally leave.

Before Aldean left however, he made sure to squeeze the Viscount for a few travel expenses, which the latter was near ready to throw at his face just to chase him out.

Nary a moment after Aldean’s departure, the Viscount made sure to throw a pinch of salt after him, afraid of this hungry ghost changing its mind again and to strip him of more wealth.

Liufeng also left the Duke’s side, after which, like before, only the two noblemen were left.

Viscount Hobb, broke out into a flurry of curses, condemning Aldean’s earlier actions. His shiny head reddened from anger as he voiced all the pent up feelings from being denied face.

However, Duke Moray didn’t take any of it to heart. Things had gone just the way he had expected.

He got what he came for regarding the matter related to the task he had proposed.

Aldean’s cooperation was of minor importance. What mattered most was that he got rid of the bad blood between Gridan and that disciple.

“You said the boy has ashen hair?” asked the Duke as he supported his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. Clearly, he was referring to Riaz.

The Viscount stalled, then nodded in affirmation, “That’s what the report said. The sooner he recovers and leaves, the better. I couldn’t ask for more than the accursed pair finding a ditch abroad to disappear into.”

Needless to say, the Viscount held no small amount of hate for the master and disciple pair that had disregarded his position on every turn. On the other hand, the Duke didn’t share the same narrow perception of his inferior, instead focusing on the broader picture.

After crossing his legs, the Duke ordered, “Keep an eye on that boy. Should he return to Gridan, I want you to spare no effort to arrange his participation in the forest exploration.”

The Viscount was overcome by surprise. “Your grace?”

“You heard me, Viscount. Stop clinging to your petty grievances and try to see the bigger picture. If we can rope him in, then wouldn’t the Blade King be forced to intervene should the worst come to pass?”

The Duke continued, “Besides, there’s still that matter of his hair. I have seen others like him before, but…”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. Still, they speak of devils, so why don’t we put that old myth to the test?”

“Your grace, he doesn’t seem that strong, won’t he just drag the team down?” The Viscount had his concerns.

“Taught by a blade king, how many can boast such an opportunity? He may be weak now, but for how long?” replied the Duke.

He slowly rose from his seat. “Just focus on completing your task, Viscount. Leave everything else to me. I, for one, shall watch that boy’s path with great interest.”