Volume 1 - CH 3.1

CHAPTER 3: BLINDING

“Goodness! Why must I wear what the maids are wearing?!”

“But there is nothing else for you to wear right now, Miss.”

The angry young miss’s servants prostrated themselves before her. The young miss was particularly fussy, and the servants were hard-pressed to look after her while traveling in foreign lands. But the master had permitted the young miss to go. Who were they to say otherwise?

Something had gone wrong on every single day of their trip thus far. The only silver lining was that they were finally on their way back home.

“Fetch me something else to wear! I’m the daughter of a count! My father will lose face if I walk around wearing something like this!”

She wasn’t necessarily wrong. Or she wouldn’t be, if they were still in the count’s estate back home in Anomarad. But they were in Travachess, a land very far away from the estate. There were no nobles from Anomarad here to make snide remarks about the count’s reputation.

“I understand, Miss, but we’re out in the countryside. There isn’t anywhere to buy new dresses here.”

The servants knew how the young miss would respond before she ever said anything.

“What kind of backwards country is this?!”

Evidently, Rosenice, the count’s twelve-year-old daughter, thought that all streets were lined with high-end boutiques, like the developed streets of Keltica, everywhere she went. She hadn’t even been to Keltica, the capital, before. Rosenice genuinely believed that she would rather never step foot outside ever again than be caught wearing shabby clothes. To think that such atrocity could happen to her!

The count’s carriage had made a stop by a lake earlier because last night’s rain had made the roads all muddy. Unfortunately, the carriage door hadn’t been closed properly, and the young miss’s chest of dresses had fallen into the water when the door opened on accident. To add insult to injury, this had also happened after Rosenice had gotten the dress she had been wearing muddy while taking a quick walk outside.

Willa, the maid who was in charge of attending to Rosenice for the duration of the trip, had vowed to find the person responsible for not closing the carriage door all the way and break their wrist. Willa was big-boned and had a better physique than most men, so it was very likely that she intended to make good on her threat.

“You can always decide to keep wearing what you already have on, Rose.”

Someone had come to save the servants. The count, who had been away to visit a nearby village, had returned with his men. The young miss was fussy and dealing with her was like having to deal with ten children her age, but she was always listened to her father.

Count Bellnor doted on his daughter and called her by her nickname—Rose. He spoiled her heavily and gave her anything she wanted. The count was also well-respected by his employees because he treated his servants fairly.

“But this one’s muddy too, Daddy…” Rosenice said as she tried to  appeal to her father.

Alas, her efforts were in vain, and she was ultimately forced to accept the dress that Willa gave her. The dress belonged to Camia, a young maid who was in charge of running small errands. It was still the dress of a maid employed by a count, however, so it wasn’t exactly shabby either.

Rosenice changed into Camia’s dress. She was upset because the dress not only failed to come with matching accessories but also only came down to her knees.

Camia was standing next to Rosenice, and the two girls were roughly the same age.

“Get lost!” Rosenice exclaimed as she began venting her frustrations on the other girl. “Seeing you sitting next to me just pisses me off even more!”

Camia quickly tottered over to the other side of the carriage. She figured that it wasn’t a good idea to be standing near the young miss while wearing the same exact dress as her.

“You might get your dress muddy again, Rose. Why don’t you head back inside the carriage?”

The only time Rosenice didn’t talk back was when her father was speaking to her. She nodded and opened the carriage door. Willa scooped up the young miss, sat her down inside the carriage, and closed the door behind her. It was only after the carriage door had fully closed that she turned around and heaved a sigh.

There were traveling with three carriages. The Count of Bellnor had travelled all the way to the Republic of Travachess in order to visit a distant relative of his wife’s who was a rich and powerful elector. The count needed to maintain diplomatic relations with the republic because Travachess was the county’s closest foreign neighbor, discounting Tia, which was a colony of Anomarad. Unfortunately, maintaining good relations with another nation was no easy feat. The political landscape in Travachess was unstable, and, while the count had forged a relationship with one of the houses of Travachess through marriage, it was always possible that the house could suddenly collapse on day.

Southern Anomarad had historically been a producer of grapes, almonds, and truffles—an exquisite food that was said to make even the mouths of gourmets begin watering just by their mere mention. The Panozareh Mountains bordered southern Anomarad to the north, and the two regions situated at either end of the mountain range were called Alajong and Bellcruz. Both regions were blessed with a favorable climate and were famous for their scenic beauty, and both regions also produced southern Anomarad’s specialties in abundance.

Bellnor County was situated in Bellcruz. Many of Travachess’ most affluent citizens had a taste for the delicacies that the county produced, and it was the count’s duty to create a trade route for them. Anomarad had a king back in her capital city, but the count, who was the lord of the region, had the authority to oversee this important matter.

Hugh, the count’s secretary who had been watching over the party while the count was away, walked up to the count and bowed.

“Is there anything that requires my attention?”

“Not at all. Have things gone well for you also, Master?”

“Mm, yes.”

Hugh nodded and changed the topic. “I sent a runner ahead of us. It looks like it’ll take us about four days until we reach the Tia border. We should be able to find the Young Miss somewhere she can get some adequate rest once we’ve arrived in Tia.”

Tia had no reason to antagonize Anomarad, so the knights and lords of Tia were always very hospitable to the Count of Bellnor.

“I see. We’ve been traveling for some time now. I’m sure Rose must be exhausted. She’s barely ever left home before this.”

“She’s powered through rather well, when all is said and done. I’m certain the Young Miss will be kinder to everyone once she’s had the chance to rest.”

Hugh was lying through his teeth. Rosenice was only ever kind to a select few, and Hugh himself was only half-included in that number. He was, however, faithful to his job and did not hesitate to tell the count what he wanted to hear.

The carriages began moving again once the mud had dried. They planned to arrive at Gwareh, the largest city in the area, before evening.  There would not be received by the castellan because the count had no ties to this region, but would still be able to find a few decent inns to stay at. The count intended to console Rosenice by getting her something nice to eat. He also wanted to confirm some of the less than reliable information he had obtained.

“Hey, look over there.”

“What’s a young kid like that doing all by himself?”

“Where did he even get his hands on that?”

Gwareh was large, but it was less of a city and more of an estate. The people living there were able to recognize outsiders immediately. There was only a certain number of outsiders allowed inside the city at any given time. The most eye-catching outsiders who had entered the city today were a party of three whole carriages with twelve knights on horseback. The procession belonged to a foreign noble.

The master of the procession was a handsome man riding an impressive white steed. The people didn’t even need to guess where he was heading. He and his party were likely making their way over to The Saffron Gate, the nicest inn in Gwareh. Gwareh, as well as the rest of Central Travachess, made a lot of money selling saffron, a luxury spice. The most expensive dish at The Saffron Gate was smoked salmon served over a plate lined with saffron. Naturally, it was only served on days when the merchants came to sell smoked salmon in the city.

“He looks exhausted.”

The people of the city whispered amongst themselves as they ogled the outsider boy who was walking the streets alone. They were puzzled by the fact that the boy looked like he was from a well-to-do household. They would have assumed that he was simply a wandering beggar if he had been shabbily dressed. Was he lost?

More eye-catching than the boy’s appearance, however, was the thing that he was dragging around with him. It was unmistakably a sword.

The white scabbard sparkled like a rainbow under even the meager lights of the stores that lined the streets. The sword looked too big and too high quality for the young boy to wield. The sword was strapped to the boy’s waist, but it still dragged along the ground because the boy was so small. He knew that he was attracting people’s attention, but there was nothing he could do about it. The sword was too heavy for him to carry.

It wasn’t only the typical passersby who were staring at the boy. There were plenty of other kinds of people staring at him as he walked the streets.

Camia, the young maid of Bellnor County, was also out on the streets in search for a dress boutique at a furious Rosenice’s behest. She was walking slowly, using this as an opportunity to explore the city, until she suddenly spotted the boy with the sword dragging behind him.

He looked so peculiar that Camia kept staring at him for a very long time, but she resumed walking once she lost interest. Then, she came across a large tailor shop—too bad it wasn’t a boutique. She noticed that the boy had stopped in his tracks too, on the other side of the street. He was standing in front of a run-down inn.

Camia had lived in the count’s manor all her life, and she firmly believed that only thugs and ruffians frequented inns as shabby as that one. Before she knew what she was doing, she shouted to the boy, “Hey! That’s not the kind of place for children to be staying at. It’s dangerous.”

The boy moved very, very slowly as he turned around to look back at Camia. Camia flinched when their eyes finally met.

She had thought that the boy was around her age, but the light in his eyes made him seem so much older. Camia had gotten good at judging these kinds of things after serving others for over twelve whole years.

The boy’s eyes were hollow. It wasn’t only because he was hungry. It almost looked like there was a shadow cast directly over his eyes. Camia did not know this because she was too young to know, but his were the eyes of someone who had survived after witnessing something that should never have been seen.

“I’ll be fine,” the boy replied curtly.

Then, he turned back around and walked inside the inn. Camia stood rooted on the spot, baffled, before she came back to her senses and headed inside the tailor shop.

It had been five days since Boris had left his big brother’s side.

He still had a little bit of the money that Yevgnen had obtained by selling their mother’s keepsake left. Boris had been made to realize just how much his brother had been doing for him during these last five days. He had already known that Yevgnen was doing a lot for him. Yet, the stark reality of not having his brother around anymore was so much worse than simply imagining it.

On the first day, Boris had begged the people living in a somewhat secluded area for food and a place to stay so he could conserve money. The woman who lived there had been suspicious of him at first, but then she had given him a bowl of something that reminded him of porridge once she realized that he truly had nowhere else to go. After he had finished wolfing down the porridge, he had gone to the barn and tried to get some sleep, just as the woman had instructed. Then, the woman’s husband had come home later that night and had told him to rest easy. He had not asked Boris any questions.

However, Boris’ thoughts had kept him up that night. He had been resting with his ear against the wall when he had suddenly heard the woman and her husband talking. Boris didn’t look like a beggar, so they had been planning to sell him to people who specialized in finding lost children for a monetary reward from their parents. If those people could not locate the child’s parents, then they would simply sell the children to Anomarad, where slavery was legal, or hand them over to a mercenary guild. Either way, it wasn’t a bad deal. Most of the children ended up being sold into slavery or handed over to a mercenary guild, but anyone who entrusted the children to these people would be able to keep their conscience guilt-free. The woman had sounded very excited when her husband told her about this.

Boris had waited for the woman and her husband to fall asleep before sneaking out of the barn. He had spent the rest of the night walking away from their house.

Even the flapping of large birds had been enough to startle him during these past few days. Boris remembered hunting birds during the day and camping out at night with his brother back when they had still been living in the manor. To think that mere birds could startle him now. He remembered being unable to start the campfire no matter how hard he tried. He had done exactly as his brother had demonstrated, but fire had always fizzled out before it had even truly started burning.

Boris had curled into a ball to sleep that night and had resumed walking the next day.

He had no idea where he was going, not even the faintest clue. Winterer, the only thing he had left, seemed to grow heavier by the day. He hadn’t eaten anything all day long. His brother, at least, had been able to hunt small animals like rabbits or forage unattended bird eggs for them to eat, but Boris was able to do neither. He had tried picking some berries he spotted along the way—he didn’t even know what kind they were. They had been so incredibly astringent and sour, but he fortunately hadn’t gotten sick even after eating all of them.

By some stroke of fortune, Boris had come across another village the next day. However, he hadn’t known whether he should find another house to beg at or whether he should go to an inn. Ultimately, he’d failed to reach a decision and found himself a secluded spot after buying a piece of bread. The harvest hadn’t started in earnest yet, so the warehouses were still empty.

Unfortunately, they were so empty that there hadn’t even been any straw or hay inside them either. But Boris didn’t care. He was used to the cold, hard ground now. Boris had ultimately fallen asleep in a corner of a warehouse after nibbling on a few bites of bread.

He had given up on the idea of making his way to where his great aunt was not because she was too far away but because Boris had been born and raised in Travachess. He knew that family meant nothing across political party lines. A relative in a different political party was more likely to be a foe than a friend.

So then, where should he go?

After taking some time to deliberate, Boris realized that he did not have anywhere to go. He concluded that the best he could hope for was to survive while working as an errand boy. Neither his station of birth nor his pride mattered to him now. All the cared about was what his brother had asked him to do: to survive.

He had left the village he had been staying at because he figured that he was more likely to find work in a large city and began heading for the City of Gwareh, which Yevgnen had mentioned previously in passing. He had finally arrived at the city five days after he had left Yevgnen behind.

“Please give me a room.”

Tonya, the innkeeper’s eighteen-year-old daughter, was manning the counter. She was perplexed when the tiny boy entered the inn all alone and asked for a room in such an adult-like manner.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

The boy was small, but he was not immature. He neither sounded frightened nor hesitant. Tonya shrugged to herself and decided that it was none of her business.

“Alright, then. Are you okay with a cheap one?”

“Yes, please.”

“That’ll be five silver. You can have the room over there next to the kitchen. The bed’s a bit small, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Boris took out five silver coins from his pocket—he’d counted them ahead of time. He knew now that it wasn’t wise to let everyone see how much money he was carrying.

He handed the coins to Tonya as he quietly said, “Um, and…”

Tonya was a gentle girl. She couldn’t help but grow curious about why such a young boy was traveling all alone. There was extra kindness in her voice as she replied, “Can I get you anything else?”

“Um, would you, perhaps, know anyone who might… have work for a young child like me? I don’t need to be paid with money. I just need food and a place to sleep… Something like that.”

Boris wasn’t too different from Yevgnen in disposition, so it took him a lot of courage to ask for help. Tonya widened her eyes ever so slightly as she studied the boy again.

“You’re looking for work?”

“Yes,” Boris replied. It was much easier this time.

“Hmm…”

Boris finally looked Tonya in the eyes. Then, he mused to himself about how nice it would have been if only he had been her age. Tonya looked back at Boris. She had been manning the inn counter for several years now, and her intuition told her that the boy before her had not been raised a commoner.

“You really don’t care about what kind of work it is?” she asked.

Boris hadn’t been expecting her to actually give him a proper response, and he tensed up when she did.

“I don’t. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“I can’t make any guarantees, but… I remember Mr. Bunin, the blacksmith, saying that he’s been wanting an assistant. I can try asking him for you. I think the merchants who come to the city every now and again said that they were looking for someone to help run errands too.” Tonya looked up at the ceiling as she continued, “You’re not half bad to look at either, so I think some of the richer madams in town might take a liking to you and take you in as their attendants too.”

Boris looked up at Tonya with no discernable emotion in his face before promptly lowering his gaze again. Tonya couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at him.

“Anyway, I’ll let you know if I hear anything. So, go and get some rest for now,” she said. She couldn’t help but wonder if the boy had even eaten dinner yet as she watched him nod back and scurry over to his room.

“You couldn’t find anything?”

Rosenice was the same age as Camia, but Camia was afraid to look her in the eyes. They were still wearing matching dresses, and the news that Camia had brought back had been far from good.

“Then, go and look again!” Rosenice exclaimed. “It’s such a big city. Surely, the nobles here must wear something.”

“But we’re still far into the countryside. The dresses that you like to wear need to be custom ordered, Young Miss.”

“Hmph!”

Rosenice plopped down in bed in a fit of anger. Someone began knocking on her door just then.

“Rose? It’s your father. Can I come in?”

Rosenice was young, but her father already treated her like a lady. She could not possibly allow him to see her so disheveled. She quickly jumped up to her feet and straightened out her dress before she replied, “Of course, Father.”

Count Bellnor opened the door and stepped inside. Draped over his arm was a cute green dress. Green was Rosenice’s favorite color. Not only was the green dress brand new, but it was also quite luxurious.

“Daddy!” Rosenice cried out in surprise.

Hugh, the count’s secretary, followed the count inside and closed the door behind him.

“My Little Lady was upset because she had nothing to wear, so your father went running to the store to buy you a dress. What do you think?” asked Count Bellnor.

Rosenice brought the dress up to her figure as soon as the count handed it to her. Then, she beamed sunnily and replied, “I love it!”

“Then, hurry along and get changed so we can spend some time outside. You won’t grow up to be a wise lady unless you’ve observed many other cultures.”

“I will!”

Rosenice immediately got changed into the wonderful green dress with Camia’s help as soon as the count left her room. She blossomed into a smile as soon as she saw her reflection in the mirror. She had bright, lemon-colored hair and sparkling green eyes. Even she had to admit that she was alarmingly beautiful. She was in a much happier now, not only because of the new dress but also because her bitter mood from the days prior had cleared completely. Camia applauded her beauty too, which only served to lift Rosenice’s mood even higher. Both girls were in considerably good cheer as they headed downstairs.

The count had finished preparing his horse and had been waiting for them. He climbed on top of his horse, and then the servants helped Rosenice get seated in front of her father.

Curious, Rosenice asked the count, “But where did you find this dress, Daddy? Camia said that a tailor shop was the only thing she could find.”

“I paid the tailor shop a visit too.”

Rosenice’s eyes opened wide as she continued asking, “How come were you able to buy a dress when Camia couldn’t?”

“I offered to buy one of the dresses they were already making for someone in the neighborhood for twice the original price.”

“Aha.”

Rosenice beamed as she nodded to herself. Then, she leaned comfortably back against her father, who was holding the reins.

The horse began moving. Hugh, the secretary, and three other knights trailed after them. They were also on horseback. Camia sighed as she watched the horses leave. The Young Miss was so lucky to have such a wonderful and loving father. Her own father was a lousy drunkard who had sold his own daughter off to a noble as soon as she was born. That was why she had left home one day a couple years back and never looked back.

“Er, hey… Are you busy?”

Tonya rebuked herself for forgetting to ask the boy what his name was as she knocked on his door. She figured that he was probably asleep, so she was a bit surprised when he replied immediately and promptly opened the door.

“Come downstairs for a sec. The blacksmith’s here to see you.”

It looked like the boy hadn’t been sleeping at all. Tonya asked the boy what his name was as they made their way downstairs together.

“My name is Boris… Just Boris.”

“I’m Tonya.”

Boris had a feeling that he shouldn’t reveal his surname. Tonya didn’t ask him for one either. She led him to one of the tables along the wall. Sitting at the table was a tall man in his forties with noticeably muscular arms. He was drinking some beer.

“This is the boy I was talking about, Mr. Bunin.”

The man glanced at Boris out of the corner of his eye and said, “You’re all skin and bones. Think you really got what it takes to do smithy work?”

Boris had no idea what ‘smithy work’ entailed. Still, he nodded back vigorously and steeled himself as he replied, “I don’t actually know what kind of work that is.”

“Oh?”

The man—Bunin—put down his beer and began studying the boy in earnest. Then, he said, “At least you’re not a liar. It doesn’t take much to figure out that you’re no commoner. Which house are you from? Was your house involved in a war recently?”

Boris fell silent. The darkness in the boy’s eyes bothered Bunin. As a blacksmith, he had forged weapons meant for warfare more than a few times. That was why he knew exactly what war meant. War was when the haves began robbing each other just so they could have more. It was rare for a commoner like Bunin to know what exactly war meant because their lives would still continue on regardless of who owned the lands they lived on. Travachess had not changed in the slightest even after becoming an alleged people’s nation—a republic. After all, commoners did not have the right to vote for electors or senators.

“You don’t want to say?” Bunin finally asked as he peered into Boris’ face. The boy was simply standing there without answering. When the boy continued to remain silent, he took another swig of beer and continued, “Come to the smithy bright and early tomorrow morning. I’ll give you some work to do, but I’ll chase you out immediately if you’re no good at it.”

Boris took Bunin at his word, but Tonya brightened up visibly. She had known Mr. Bunin for some time now, so she knew that his words could sounded meaner than he intended. The blacksmith had basically agreed to take the boy in.

“What are you doing, kid? Hurry up and say thank you.”

Boris ended up bowing in the heat of the moment, and then Tonya dragged him back to his room. She told him to wait there for a bit before heading over to the kitchen and bringing back a big bowl of soup.

“You haven’t eaten dinner yet, right? Have some of this, at least.”

The soup that Tanya gave Boris was more just a bowl of cloudy water. It was a proper soup, filled with chopped vegetables and pieces of meat. Boris stared at Tonya for a second before accepting the bowl she was offering and taking a spoonful.

Tonya smirked and said, “You need to get into the habit of saying thank you when you’re grateful, kid.”

She wasn’t trying to scold him. She could tell, from the look in his eyes, that he was immensely grateful.

“Thank you… Miss.”

Boris sounded a tad embarrassed. Then, he pulled out the dried bread he had been carrying in his pocket and dipped it in the soup. Tonya smiled in silence as she watched him eat.

He felt warm once he was done eating. Tonya had left with the empty bowl, so Boris laid down in bed and fell deep into thought. Smithies were places where they forged weapons and farming tools. Whatever work the blacksmith had for him would likely be hard and dangerous. But Boris wasn’t worried about that. What he was worried about were the lessons he had learned after everything that had happened to him recently.

Was it truly all right to trust these people?

He had recently met people who had pretended to save his life only to steal his sword and try to sell him off to a mercenary guild. He had recently met people who had kindly offered him a place to sleep while scheming to use him to make a few coins. He had recently met a party of people who had seemed to be close friends and good colleagues but had betrayed each other without batting an eye as soon as things had started getting dangerous.

Miss Tonya and Mr. Bunin looked nice… but what if they were scheming something else, too? Recent experience had taught Boris that the kinder people appeared, the more likely it was that they were plotting something truly malicious.

Boris pondered to himself for a while longer before getting up, strapping on his sword, and heading out. It was late at night. He snuck past Tonya’s gaze—she was busy manning the counter—and slipped outside. He planned to make sure that there really was a smithy nearby. And, if possible, he also wanted to make sure that the blacksmith was an honest man.

Boris stepped out onto the street only to be almost immediately run over by a horse that had been galloping at full speed. It hadn’t been his fault. The riders had not been checking to make sure that there was no one on the road. Instead, it was the people on the streets who had been forced to scatter like ants as they approached.

“Whoa!”

Boris curled up into a ball—he hadn’t had the time to get away. The horse was basically on top of him when it stopped. It wasn’t able to come to a full stop, however, and ended up smacking Boris in the side. Boris was able to escape by rolling to his side, but the pain wouldn’t go away.

“What the hell? Do you have a death wish? Why were you blocking the road?”

But Boris hadn’t been blocking the road. Boris just barely managed to climb back up to his feet and straighten himself out only to find four riders peering down at him from atop their huffing horses. They were exchanging grins as if they had suddenly found a new and exciting toy to play with.

“You’re supposed to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness if you’ve accidently blocked a nobleman’s path. What do you think you’re staring at?”

The riders exuded such overwhelming authority that the passersby had no choice to scatter without saying another word. Boris had no idea what to do. He hadn’t grown accustomed to lowering his head yet.

“I apologize for getting in your way, but… I think that you were in the wrong too for galloping on a busy street.”

“Oho?”

“Would you listen to that rascal? Looks like he’s lost his mind.”

The riders began scoffing. Then, one of them said, “Why don’t you whip him until he regains his senses, sir?”

“You didn’t even have to ask!”

The rider who was at the forefront of the group raised his whip and brandished it at Boris.

Smack!

He hadn’t had the chance to dodge. The whip struck Boris’ back and shoulder and left him with a serious wound. There was no way that a mere child could take something like that and remain on his feet. The riders snickered as Boris’ legs gave out from under him. Agony wormed its way into Boris’ brain as his flesh tore apart. The whip brushed against his face next. Blood dribbled down to his mouth.

“Looks like he’s willing to kneel now that you’ve taught him some manners, sir,” one of the men said while cackling after watching Boris collapse.

Then, another man said, “Did it get through that thick skull of yours yet, brat? Hurry up and kneel before we end up having to clean up after your corpse.”

Tonya stepped outside, wondering what the ruckus was all about. And then, she saw what was happening. She flew into a rage, but she also had no clue what to do. Who knew what might happen to her if she tried to make a stand against those well-dressed pieces of trash? After a moment of hesitation, she ran back inside the inn and began yelling.

“Dad! Where are you, Dad?! Mr. Bunin! Please, come outside and help!”

Boris’ ears were buzzing. The world sounded like a beehive. He flushed, not from the pain but from the humiliation of it all. He began eyeing Winterer, which was strapped to his side, before he realized what he was doing. If only he was big enough to wield the sword… No—if only Yevgnen were here…

But he knew that his wishes were in vain. He used the sword as a cane to stagger back up to his feet. It was difficult to keep himself steady because his legs were shaking so badly, but he didn’t say a word in complaint. He did not protest, but neither did he surrender.

“What a ferocious little brat,” one of the men said as he climbed down from his horse. He was the youngest of the four riders. He then proceeded to grab Boris by the collar and shoved the boy against one of the pillars in front of the inn. He shoved Boris so hard that the pillar itself shook a little.

“Bastards like you need to be taught a proper lesson. How dare a beggar like you stand up in the presence of a noble, huh?!”

Slam! Slam!

The man shoved Boris against the pillar two more time, and then he grabbed the boy’s face with his left hand and squeezed. His hand, which was large enough to cover the boy’s face entirely, twisted the boy’s head to the side. Just before Boris thought his neck might break, the man shoved him against the pillar yet again. Boris’ head went blank.

“Have you learned your lesson now?”

Boris didn’t reply.

Bunin, the blacksmith, ran outside the inn with Tonya and witnessed what was happening. Bunin was a man of action instead of words. Just before he could jump into the fray, however, someone else called out, “What is the meaning of this?!”

Everyone turned to where the new voice had come from. A lot of people had decided to go riding today, apparently. Five more horses were standing in the middle of the road. One of them was white. The man riding it was the man who had called out just now. Tonya realized that he was the nobleman who had entered the city earlier that evening.

“Who the hell are you?” the man who had still holding onto Boris asked while turning around.

Two of the men in the count’s party jumped down from their horses and ran toward him. They immediately grabbed the man and pulled him away, and then they helped Boris up. Boris could not make heads or tails of the situation. He was terribly dizzy from all the hits he had taken to his head. He collapsed in the arms of the count’s men who were helping him.

“Who the fuck are you?” demanded the man with the whip.

Sonorously, the count replied, “I may not be from around here, but I will not stand here and look the other way while a bunch of louts like you beat up such a young child. Hurry up and scram, unless you wish to learn a bitter lesson yourselves.”

“Oh, talking big now, are we?”

It felt like a melee would break out any second now. People began drawing their swords. Onlookers slowly inched backward but still stayed behind to spectate. Tonya and Bunin were helpless to do anything but watch.

Alas, much to the spectators’ disappointment, the ensuing fight was not very entertaining. The louts were no match for the count, who had drawn his own sword and fallen in line with his men. The count was so skilled at swordplay that he had instantaneously managed push two of the louts off their horses while also purposefully refraining from landed a fatal blow. One of the men who had fallen off his horse began spewing curses, but then he quietly crawled over to the side of the road once he realized that his gang was losing badly.

“Get lost, and take your horses with you!” the count shouted.

The louts ran away without another word just as they were told. Perhaps they did not want to stay around long enough for the count to begin interrogating them.

Then, the count ordered, “Get the boy on one of the horses and ask around for a doctor.”

One of the count’s men nodded back and looked around awkwardly for a moment before walking up to Tonya and asking her if there was a doctor nearby.

Somewhat bitterly, Tonya replied, “She’s not a doctor, but there’s an old woman who lives over the hill. She’s a pharmacist.”

The count turned his horse around when he saw that the situation was wrapping up nicely and trotted over to where Hugh, his secretary, was. Rosenice was sitting in Hugh’s lap. She had been considerably shocked by the sudden swordfight that had broken out. Her eyes were open wide, and she was fidgeting restlessly.

“It’s all right, Rose. Everything’s over now. Remember what I always told you? A noble has no right to call himself a noble if he sees something unjust and simply allows it to continue. Remember this always. With great power comes great responsibility. That is what nobles oblige means.”

Rosenice turned to Boris, whom one of her father’s knights was holding in his arms. He was only half-conscious. That was why he would never remember the words that had come out of Rosenice’s mouth that day.

“He’s so dirty. I don’t like him!”

Alas, the count and his party brought the boy back to their inn against the young miss’s protests.