Chapter 9 - His Entrance
The four gates of Blackreach City were currently filled with thousands of people, all standing in line under the scorching sun. Since Blackreach City was located at the center of the continent, it was constantly visited by multitudes of people from all four kingdoms. Merchants, traders, mercenaries, and all sorts of people converged upon the city in droves. This staggering number of visitors led to people waiting in line for a long time just to be allowed entrance into the city.
Wesley was currently standing in line at the southern gate. He could have easily skipped the line since his status as a noble exempted him from the process. However, Wesley felt nothing but disdain for being a noble. He chose to stand in line, for god knows how long, amongst the masses rather than be associated with such people as nobles.
His wait in line was not easy. The sun was high in the sky, and he was drenched in sweat, his once-pale face now almost red from sunburn. But his anger was stronger than his discomfort. After three hours of standing in line, around early afternoon, Wesley finally reached the gate entrance.
The first thing Wesley noticed as he reached the gate was the ten or so guards standing at attention. They all wore white armor with a shield emblem on their chests, each showing great professionalism. Behind the white-clad guards sat a middle-aged man in golden armor with a head full of gray hair. He seemed to be the commander, as he looked far more imposing than the rest. He had his eyes closed, as if meditating, which made him seem even more imposing for some reason.
As Wesley continued looking at the golden-armored man, an annoyed shout came from a guard standing slightly ahead of the others.
"You country bumpkin. Stop looking around like an idiot and step forward!"
He sounded arrogant and pompous, but that didn’t anger Wesley. It only caught his attention. Wesley noticed the guard was a golden-haired youth with a handsome face. His armor was white like that of the other ten guards, but he had a few golden stripes on his shoulders, signifying that he was an officer. Wesley shrugged off the insult and stepped forward. The guard looked Wesley up and down, and upon seeing his ragged, dirty appearance, a clear look of disgust appeared on his face. He spoke in a similarly disgusted voice:
"I don't think a beggar like you can afford to enter the city. Leave."
Wesley was somewhat irritated, but he knew his appearance was indeed poor, so he didn’t get angry. Instead, he spoke in a soft, respectful voice:
"My apologies, Mister Guard. I’ve traveled far, so my appearance is not great, but I can—"
Before Wesley could finish his sentence, the guard cut him off with an annoyed voice:
"I said be gone, trash."
Wesley’s anger began to rise, but he still restrained himself. He spoke again:
"Like I said, Mister Guard, I need to—"
This time, the golden-haired guard didn’t even speak. He drew his sword and swung it toward Wesley’s head, intending to kill him. Seeing the sword coming for his head, Wesley instinctively drew his own sword and used his Silent Counter.
A shrill scream of agony filled the air. A hand was on the ground holding a sword, and the golden-haired guard was kneeling in front of a dark-clothed youth, screaming at the top of his lungs while staring at his now-handless arm, which was gushing blood. He looked up at Wesley with a face full of hate and spoke in an agonized voice:
"You... You dare! I am the third son of Count Viten of the Ject Kingdom! I will have your head for this. I will have your entire family's heads for this!"
It wasn’t uncommon to find Ject Kingdom nobles serving in the Blackreach Army. Since Blackreach was a neutral buffer zone between the four kingdoms, each kingdom contributed some soldiers. This was a popular assignment for nobles since it was relatively safe, and they could enjoy the amenities offered by this metropolitan center while fulfilling their military service requirements.
Unfortunately for this noble, while hoping to deter Wesley from further hurting him, he resorted to his noble status. Hearing this, Wesley felt a deep fire ignite within his heart. He let out a cold snort and swung his sword once more.
Suddenly, the screams of agony disappeared instantly. A deathly silence settled in the air, and in the middle of it all stood a blue-haired, dark-clothed youth, with a headless body kneeling in front of him.
As soon as the first scream was heard, the golden-armored commander immediately stood with an astonished look on his face. Before he could even move, he heard the golden-haired guard’s words, then his tension eased a little, thinking that no one would dare hurt a noble. But then he heard a small "hmph" leave the dark-clothed youth's mouth, and next, the golden-haired youth lost his head.
His heart instantly dropped. He couldn’t believe that someone would dare kill a guard in broad daylight, in front of so many people, knowing he was a noble, and not even blink an eye. His very core was shaken, and fear crept into his mind. But he steeled himself and shouted at the youth:
"You! What do you think you’re doing? I’ll have you hanged for this!"
Hearing the words of the golden-armored man, Wesley looked up at him with cold eyes as if he had forgotten his existence completely. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small black rectangle. He tossed the little black rectangle toward the golden-armored man and spoke in a cold voice:
"And what is a proper punishment for a dog that attempts to bite its master?"
The golden-armored guard immediately caught the black rectangle and, with a cautious expression, glanced at it. At first, he wasn’t expecting anything from the little rectangle, but the moment his eyes landed on the emblem, his heart nearly stopped. A blue dragon with jade green.
Seeing this, the guard instantly understood. Killing the third son of a noble was nothing compared to those who held this emblem. He could kill the noble’s entire family and there would be no complaints. He was surprised why the emblem was in the hands of such a poor-looking youth, or why he was alone and among the commoners, but the words and actions of the youth confirmed his identity. He immediately fell to one knee and spoke in an apologetic and terrified voice:
"My Lord."
The scene baffled the hundreds of people standing closest to the gate, but the ones most surprised were the ten guards who had been about to rush toward Wesley. However, seeing their commander kneel, they reluctantly kneeled as well. Wesley just walked slowly toward the golden-armored guard.
The moment he was within arm’s reach of the guard commander, he reached toward the little rectangle with his sword still drawn. Once the emblem was safely back in his satchel, Wesley sheathed his sword and spoke to the guard commander:
"Clean up that mess."
Then he simply walked past him and into the city.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A few hours after the incident at the gate, Wesley was sitting in a small inn. He sat alone with a dark look on his face, feeling truly horrible about what he had done earlier. Every time he thought back to it, his stomach would contract, and he would be on the verge of throwing up.
No, it wasn’t the killing of that noble. In fact, he had rather enjoyed that. It seemed that the only remedy for his aching heart and the rage within him was the blood of those arrogant and mighty nobles who thought themselves special. They somehow believed that they couldn’t be killed because of their noble status. Seeing them terrified as death approached gave him an incomparable thrill.
What truly disgusted him beyond measure, however, was what he did after killing that piece of trash. Using his status as a noble to justify his actions caused him tremendous stress. He was reluctant to use that damn emblem, but if he hadn’t, he would have had to kill all the guards. And since they were all well-trained soldiers, he would have needed to use magic. But if he did that, he would have had to kill every person present. How different was he from those nobles he despised most, the ones who hide behind their names and status to make others suffer, when he himself was doing the same thing? Perhaps, he wasn’t different at all. Maybe he was exactly the same.
As Wesley continued his pondering, the bartender approached. The bartender would have preferred to ignore such a ragged-looking child, but he couldn’t let some beggar occupy space that could have been used by a paying customer. As soon as he was within speaking range of Wesley, he spoke in a rather disrespectful tone:
"You must buy something to sit here."
Wesley, who had been engrossed in his self-pity, suddenly looked up. Upon seeing the frowning face of the bartender, Wesley instantly understood that he was being mistaken for a beggar. For some reason, this made him feel better. He convinced himself that if he truly were a noble, he wouldn’t be confused for a beggar. He smiled at the thought of being mistaken for one, then spoke to the bartender with a grin still on his face:
"Haha, apologies, Mr. Bartender. The house special, please."
Hearing Wesley's words, the bartender was startled and frowned even more. He still believed that Wesley was a beggar planning to dine and dash. But his surprise returned once again when Wesley tossed him a gold coin and spoke again:
"Also, arrange a room for me, please."
Seeing the gold coin in his hand, and noticing the ragged clothes Wesley wore, the bartender felt conflicted. But money was money, and he would never turn away a paying customer. His attitude changed completely:
"Certainly, sir. Anything else you would like?"
"Haha, no, that should be all. Thank you," Wesley said in a cheerful tone, which helped the bartender breathe a sigh of relief after having been exceedingly rude earlier.
"Understood, sir."
Wesley felt a slight sense of dejection at how the bartender’s attitude had suddenly changed, but he still felt some relief at being treated like a beggar.
- - - - - - - - - -
For the next few days, Wesley remained in his room at the inn, refining. A lot of things weighed on his young mind, so he decided to stay inside and sort out his thoughts until the day of the examination.
On the morning of the examination, Wesley finally left his room and went downstairs for breakfast. He also asked the bartender for directions to the Four Moons Academy. Surprisingly, Wesley hadn’t changed out of his travel clothes. Although they were less dusty after being washed, they still looked ragged and poor. He seemed to enjoy being mistaken for a beggar, since he believed that the opposite of a noble was a beggar, and that the more virtuous and honest of the two was the beggar.
After eating a filling breakfast and receiving directions to the academy, Wesley paid his tab, left the inn, and headed toward the academy.
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