When he was ready, he stepped out of his room. As expected, Helena was already there, ready to assist him. It was impressive how capable and diligent she was.
“Good morning, Sir,” she said with a bow. “You’re up quite early today. I presume you want to go to the market right away?”
“You nailed it,” Ethan answered, stretching. He seemed bothered by how the clothes restrained his movements. “Let’s go right now. Would you mind calling Peter?”
“I’ll call him immediately,” she said, bowing again. “I’ll also make sure Lady Jehssail is ready to accompany you.”
Ethan had a strange reaction to that; he looked quite nervous. He’d had enough strangers around him lately and just wanted to be alone for a while. Since he couldn’t afford to get lost, he was taking Peter and Helena because he had known them since his first day there.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m sure she would appreciate a little more sleep. She can join us once she’s done with her daily routines, right?” He said, putting his hands in his pockets—a clear signal of his discomfort.
Helena seemed unsure. She didn’t want to argue with her young master, but she was afraid the Count or the Duke would lecture her for not waking the young lady.
“Young master, I understand your good intention of letting Lady Jehssail rest, but I’m afraid it might look disrespectful to the Count and Duke,” she said with her head low. “May we ask them for their thoughts on the matter first?”
“That will not be necessary,” Ethan said, a bright smile on his face. “I’ll deal with the Duke and the Count myself. Just do as I said, right? It will be alright.”
She didn’t look pleased, but as a maid, she could do nothing. She bowed a third time and went to call Peter while Ethan headed toward the kitchen. If Helena was up, he was sure the kitchen staff were too, and he needed a snack before heading out.
Donfrid’s little mansion was truly something. The decoration made Ethan think of hunts, but there was an air of nobility to it as well—a reminder that the Count was a great merchant. What truly amazed Ethan, however, was the structure. Outside, the house was stone, but the interior was made of high-quality noble wood. In the walls of the great halls, small red and yellow stones provided light. They seemed to activate only when someone was in range. It made him wonder how they worked.
Guards patrolled the halls; they all saluted him as he passed. Curiously, there was even a guard at the kitchen door.
“Good morning, sir!” said the guard, his voice sounding quite young to Ethan. “It is a pleasure to see you! How can I help you?”
“I just came looking for a snack. Do not mind me; it will be a quick visit,” Ethan answered. As he went to enter, curiosity got the best of him. “May I ask why there is a guard at the kitchen door?”
“Sir! It’s to prevent unauthorized people from entering, sir!” he said, standing as straight as a plank. “That way we can be sure no one tries to poison the Count’s family or his guests!”
Ethan didn’t comment, but he thought about it. Being constantly afraid of assassination, even in your own meals... it was sad and exhausting. Shaking the thought away, he entered the kitchen.
The place was massive. At least ten maids were rushing around with pans and ingredients. It seemed a bit frantic for so early in the morning. The sound of knives chopping and dough being kneaded filled the air. On the far side, a maid was trying to ignite a wood stove using a red stone. It was like watching the back of a busy restaurant.
Suddenly, the noise stopped. The maids noticed him and immediately lined up to bow. Ethan felt uncomfortable and slightly guilty for disrupting their work. Before he could speak, an older maid entered from the opposite door and bowed.
“Young Master! It’s a good surprise to see you! What can we help you with?”
“Annh... I just came looking for a snack. Do not mind me; you may continue your work. Pretend I’m not even here,” he answered, walking around to find something to eat.
“As you wish, sir,” the old woman said, turning back to the staff. “C’mon girls, breakfast is in one hour and we have nothing ready yet!”
The maids got back to work, but the atmosphere felt heavier. Ethan could feel them looking at him nervously. He was curious to see how they used magic for simple tasks like cooking, but the discomfort was too much. He grabbed a pear and left with a quiet goodbye.
It was frustrating how people acted like they were walking on eggshells around him. Ethan sighed and walked to the main room to wait for Helena and Peter. By the time they arrived, he was bored, throwing punches at the air just to move his body.
“Took you quite a while, eh?” he said, adjusting his clothes. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to see the market.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Peter said with a bow. “A carriage is waiting outside. Please, follow me.”
As they rode, Ethan asked, “Do you go to the market often? If it’s anything like I think it is, I’m going to love it.”
“Well, sir, I’m the one who normally picks up ingredients for our trips,” Helena answered. “So I stop by the market in every city we visit.”
“I don’t go often, my lord,” Peter added. “But it is remarkable. Though I must say, while Lord Donfrid manages it well, it isn’t as great as the Capital Market.”
“Doesn’t matter, Peter,” Ethan said, peeking out the window. “All experience is an experience. Oh, tell the driver to stop a few blocks away. We’ll walk from there.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Peter asked, confused.
“Of course! You can’t enjoy the city properly from a carriage!”
They stepped out a few blocks away. Ethan took a deep breath. The streets smelled of wet stone, morning dew, farm animals, and—strangely enough—grease. People were shouting, merchants were promoting sales, and birds sang overhead. The sky was the cleanest blue he had ever seen.
“Okay! Let’s go!” Ethan said, full of energy.
The market was already packed at six a.m. Ethan walked through, looking at the variety. He was annoyed that everyone stopped to whisper or avoid his gaze, but he enjoyed the space it gave him to walk. Eventually, a cheerful merchant in his 30s approached.
“Good morning, sir! It is a pleasure to see someone of your grace in Trudon! May I interest you in some merchandise from the capital?”
Ethan adjusted his posture and gave a polite smile. “From the capital? Tell me, what do you have that might impress me?”
The merchant led them to a stall filled with jewelry. Ethan looked through the rings and necklaces with a bored expression. They were pretty, but he was looking for enchanted pieces—like the stones in the mansion. The merchant began to panic as Ethan showed no interest.
“Is something wrong, my lord?”
“It's not that they’re bad,” Ethan said, picking up a random silver ring. “Just nothing I haven’t seen before. Common pieces without true value. I was expecting something... impressive.”
“I have one special piece!” The merchant scrambled to a carriage and returned with a wooden chest. Inside was a heavy electrum band featuring a Ghost-Eye Opal. It was beautiful, but to Ethan, it was still just a ring.
“Is that all?” Ethan sighed. “It’s not your fault, but this wasn't worth my time. I’m going to the capital myself; why would I settle for something trivial here?”
He turned and walked away, leaving the merchant stunned. Peter and Helena followed, looking confused.
“Sir, why did we stop if you weren't interested?” Peter asked.
“Because I wanted to see if he had anything enhanced. It’s a shame,” Ethan answered. “Anyway, we’re going to the Adventurer's Guild now. We can see more of the market once the Count’s daughter joins us.”
They walked a few more blocks, Ethan admiring the medieval-style architecture. He saw groups of people chatting excitedly. ‘Those are certainly adventurers,’ he thought. He didn’t approach them, not wanting to seem weird.
When they arrived, the Guild building looked like a fancy, efficient warehouse. It had massive oak doors painted red and black with bronze handles. The walls were a faint, uncommon pink. A bronze plate above the door showed a coin—one side with a sword and bow, the other with a grimoire and staff.
Ethan started toward the door but stopped when he saw a familiar carriage arriving.
“Oh, that’s right,” Ethan said, heading toward it. “Garnold was supposed to come here to hire some adventurers for our trip to the capital.”
Before the carriage had even fully stopped, the door swung open, and Garnold stepped out. He looked every bit the captain of the guard—polished steel, a heavy cloak, and a face that looked like it hadn't smiled since the previous decade. He started to bark an order to his men, but his voice died in his throat as his eyes landed on Ethan. For a moment, the captain just stared, his hand frozen on the hilt of his sword.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Young Master Ethan?" Garnold’s voice was a mix of confusion and immediate professional alarm. He scanned the area, his eyes darting to Peter and Helena, then back to the empty space where a royal escort should have been. "You are... on foot? And without Lady Jehssail?"
Ethan stopped in front of him and began petting the horses, not paying the captain much attention. Then, with a genuine smile and a casual wave of his hand, he spoke. “It’s too early in the morning to wake up a lady and make her walk around, don’t you think? Besides, I felt like walking today, so there was no need for an escort; the carriage that brought us most of the way was more than enough.”
He continued playing with the horses, which seemed unusually comfortable around him. Garnold exhaled a long, weary sigh, the kind that only comes from a man who realizes his morning has just become twice as complicated.
"It is not a matter of 'need,' Young Master, but of propriety," Garnold replied, though his tone was more exhausted than angry. “A man of your statu—”
“Don’t even start with the 'status' thing; I'm not hearing it.” Ethan cut him off with a sigh, finally stepping away from the animals. “But since we are both here, I’m going to keep you company while you gather the adventurers for our journey. I’m quite interested in how this works.”
Garnold looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew Ethan well enough by now to realize it was a losing battle. With a stiff nod, he signaled for his two guards to follow and stepped toward the massive oak doors.
He pushed the massive oak doors open with a heavy thud, and the transition was immediate. If the mansion was a museum of quiet elegance, the Guild was a hive of controlled chaos.
The air inside was thick and warm, smelling of old parchment, sharpening oil, and woodsmoke. The building was definitely larger on the inside than its exterior suggested. To the right, several long wooden tables were filled with men and women in various states of armor—leather, chainmail, and travel-stained robes. They were eating, drinking, and arguing over maps in a corner that functioned as a makeshift tavern for the members.
Staff members hurried from one side to the other, balancing precarious piles of paperwork, while adventurers laughed loudly at each other's stories, their voices echoing off the high ceilings. The conversation dipped slightly as the group entered; a Captain of the Guard in full regalia was a sign of a high-paying contract, but the presence of Ethan—clothed in fine silk and looking entirely too relaxed—drew even more suspicious and curious glances.
"Stay close, sir," Garnold whispered, his hand resting habitually on the hilt of his sword as he navigated through the crowd.
“It’s the Adventurer’s Guild, Garnold,” Ethan said, stepping forward with enthusiasm. He wasn't bothered by the stares; in fact, he was practically vibrating with the urge to see everything. “Not some shabby tavern. You worry way too much.”
They approached the main counter, which was carved from a dark, heavy wood. Behind it, a woman with sharp eyes and a quill that seemed to be writing by itself across a sheet of parchment looked up.
"Captain Garnold," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "The Count’s request for the capital escort is ready. We have the Silver-Rank candidates waiting in the sparring hall for your final approval."
"Good," Garnold grunted. "I intend to see if their steel is as sharp as their reputations."
“Silver-Rank you say?” Ethan asked with curiosity looking at the itens on the counter —strange crystals, stamped ledgers, and metallic badges. “that’s interesting.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman behind the counter answered, her voice dropping into a professional but hurried tone. “We gathered the best available in that rank. Some of them can even match Gold-Rank adventurers on a good day.”
Garnold let out a short, dismissive grunt. “Reputation is just talk until I see them move. Lead the way to the sparring hall. I haven't got all morning to listen to marketing pitches.”
The receptionist nodded quickly and signaled to a younger guild assistant. “Show the Captain and the Young Master to the North Hall.”
As they walked down a long stone corridor, the sound of steel on steel began to echo against the walls. It wasn't the rhythmic, practiced sound of the mansion's guards; it was messier, faster, and more aggressive.
They emerged into a large, circular chamber with a high, domed ceiling. The floor was covered in packed sand, and several "lanes" were cordoned off for different types of combat. Magic-dampening runes were etched into the stone pillars, glowing with a soft blue light that Ethan found himself staring at for a moment.
"There they are," Garnold muttered, stopping at the edge of the central ring.
In the center of the hall, six people were already active. One was a woman wielding a spear with such speed it looked like a blur of silver; another was a massive man in heavy plate armor taking hits from a practice golem without flinching.
Ethan’s eyes, however, were drawn to the movements. As someone who spent years training in Muay Thai, he wasn't just looking at the flashy weapons. He was looking at their feet, their weight distribution, and how they turned their hips into their strikes.
They’re fast, Ethan thought, his pulse quickening. But they're wide open. In a ring back home, that spear-user would have been swept in seconds.
One of the adventurers, a lean man with two short swords, noticed the newcomers. He stopped his practice and gave a cocky spin of his blades, looking directly at Ethan's expensive clothes.
"Is this the 'High Priority' contract then?" The swordsman asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "He looks a bit delicate for a trip through the mountains, doesn't he, Captain?"
Garnold’s jaw tightened. "The 'delicate' one is the person paying your tab, Kaelen. I suggest you show more steel and less tongue."
Ethan let out a scoff, a sharp, genuine sound that echoed in the domed hall. He started to stretch his shoulders, the silk of his shirt straining against his back.
“That is so fucking classic,” he muttered, his voice full of a weirdly infectious excitement.
Garnold’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his face going pale. “Young Master, please. Do not engage with him. Kaelen is… uncouth, but he is a Silver-Rank for a reason.”
“Relax, I'll go easy on him”
Ethan said as he stepped out onto the packed sand. The adventurers stopped what they were doing, watching with a mix of confusion and amusement as the "noble boy" walked right into the center of the lanes. He stopped ten feet from Kaelen, who was still holding his twin short swords.
“Let’s make a deal, adventurer” Ethan said reaching his hand to Kaelen “if you defeat me, you are automatically hired, and we are paying double”
Kaelen’s eyes widened, the greed of a mercenary warring with the sheer absurdity of the situation. A Silver-Rank adventurer losing to a noble brat in silk? Impossible. But double pay just for a quick lesson in humility? That was too good to pass up.
“Double?” Kaelen laughed, a sharp, jagged sound. He looked at his fellow adventurers, who were already grinning. “You heard the man! Don’t go blaming me when your father’s tailor has to fix those pretty sleeves, Young Master.”
“Young Master, I must insist—!” Garnold stepped forward, his face a mask of pure terror. If the Duke’s guest was injured under his watch, his career—and possibly his head—was finished.
Ethan didn’t even look back. He just raised his hand, palm flat, signaling the captain to stay put. “However, i you lose, you’ll be recieving only half of the payment and can’t talk with me or about me until the end of your services”
The authority in Ethan’s voice was new, a cold layer of command that finally made Garnold hesitate and eventually step back, though his hand never left his sword.
Kaelen’s grin didn't falter, but it sharpened. The prospect of half-pay was a sting, but the idea of losing to a boy in silk was so far-fetched to him that he barely considered it a risk.
“Half pay and a vow of silence?” Kaelen laughed, tossing his short swords into the sand at his feet. They landed with a soft thud. “I’ll take those odds. I don’t need steel to put a brat in his place. Come on then, ‘Master’ Ethan. Show me that noble spirit.”
The other adventurers moved back, forming a loose circle around the two. The woman with the spear leaned against a pillar, her eyes narrowed with newfound interest. Garnold stood at the edge, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead, looking like a man watching a slow-motion carriage crash.
- It’s a Deal – Ethan said with a smile and put his hands in a high guard – Then, let’s begin.
Kaelen didn’t waste any second and attacked Ethan right away, it was... clumsy to say the least, he just ran at Ethan intending to grab his clothes and throw him on the sand. Ethan seemed a little confused at first, like he was trying to understand a hidden move or something like that. That guy was a silver-rank after all. But in the end, he was just a brainless brawler. With a quick move, Ethan advanced into the man’s reach and delivered a powerful jab on his nose, the crack of his fist against it echoed through the halls like a whip, a spray of red hit the sand, and the cocky grin on Kaelun’s face was replaced by an confused and pained expression.
“The hell just happened?” The adventurer asked, he was not used to receiving direct punchs like that, it was way too fast.
“You got hit on the nose” Ethan said as it was obvious – Because it was “I don’t think it was hard to break it though”
The man didn’t answer to that, just put himself on a better stance and prepared himself to another attack taking it more seriously now, his payment was on the line after all.
The silence on the hall was tense; you could only hear the sound of footsteps on the sand as Kaelen moved in a circle around Ethan. Ethan was calm only observing with a smile on his face. He was having fun with that, which only made Kaelen angry.
Peter and Helena were with garnold who was now observing the fight with a new interest, he had already seemed how Ethan’s technics worked but didn’t have much faith in it. Who would have guessed it was actually useful in battle?
“So... Are you going to attack? Or are you just going to walk like a crab all day?” Ethan said and put his hands in his clothes pockets.
“You little...” whispered Kalen “I was going easy on you but now you’ll got it”
Kaelen ran towards Ethan with his arms open, aiming his waist. He wanted to grab the boy and force him to the ground so he would be able to win the battle without hurting a noble too much. But luck was not on his side, Ethan waited to him to come closer and hitted his nose again, but this time he did not used a punch, it was a knee strike that without doubt broke his nose.
The sound of the impact was sickening—a wet, crunching thud that silenced the entire hall. Kaelen’s head snapped back as if he’d been hit by a charging horse. The force of the knee strike lifted the adventurer nearly off his feet before he collapsed into the sand, clutching his face as blood began to soak through his fingers.
"Agh! My... my nose!" Kaelen groaned, his voice bubbling through the crimson mess. He wasn't just in pain; he was in shock. He had expected a noble's duel—graceful, slow, and predictable. Instead, he had run into a tactical buzzsaw.
“Well, I guess that’s settle it” Ethan said getting his hand off his clothes “You’ll getting half payment, and i don’t want to hear a word from you, until the end of the trip”
As the final word left Ethan’s lips, the temperature in the hall plummeted. The motion-sensing lights dimmed, and the shadows along the walls began to writhe and stretch toward the center of the room. Garnold instinctively drew his sword, his eyes darting around the chamber.
“That’s dark magic!” Garnold barked, his voice echoing with alarm.
“The hell is that?” Ethan exclaimed, stumbling back as a heavy, black chain materialized out of thin air right in front of him.
The chain moved with a terrifying, serpentine life of its own, slithering across the sand toward Kaelen’s neck. Still dazed from the knee strike, the adventurer couldn't react in time. The links coiled around his throat, tightening with a metallic hiss, and locked themselves into place with a jagged, dark key.
As soon as the lock clicked, the key floated toward Ethan’s open hand. The moment his skin touched the cold metal, the key dissolved into black mist and vanished into his palm. The lights flickered back to normal, and the oppressive chill vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
Ethan stared at his hand, his heart hammering against his ribs. “What in the bloody hell just happened?”