Chapter 20: Blade at His Throat
The young man drew courage from all those retreating stares.
With his good hand, he seized the longsword at his waist. His wrist was still trembling, but he forced the blade free anyway. Steel scraped against the scabbard with a harsh screech. He raised the weapon high, slammed one foot against the stone road, and charged straight at Zera and Puff.
Zera went pale.
She hugged Puff tighter on instinct, pressing her back against the stone wall. There was nowhere left to run.
"You two, I’ll fucking—"
His shout never finished.
A heavy footstep came down behind him.
The next instant, a brutal blow crashed into his back. It struck dead center, driving down along his spine and killing the momentum of his charge in an instant. His longsword was still raised overhead, but his balance was gone. His whole body pitched forward.
Bang!
His chest slammed into the stone road. His teeth clacked together, and the longsword flew from his hand, skidding across the ground.
Before he could react, a military boot stepped onto his back.
The foot pinned him there, steady and merciless.
The young man struggled to push himself up. His palm had barely touched the ground when the weight on his back sank harder. Rough stone ground against his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. A muffled groan slipped from his throat, and he was forced flat again.
"Who the hell is touching me? Who is it? Who!"
He roared and tried to twist his head around.
But the boot on his back gave him no chance. The moment his shoulder lifted even a little, the pressure increased and shoved him right back down. After several useless struggles, he finally understood.
He could not move at all.
He could only lie there like an insect pinned to the paving stones.
"Aaaah! I’m going to kill you, bastard! I’m going to—"
His curses died in his throat.
A battered red-and-white curved blade had come to rest beside his neck.
The edge pressed in from the side, stopping so close to his skin that the cold metal seemed to cling to every breath. Each time his Adam’s apple bobbed, the chill crawled along his throat.
The young man went rigid.
Every filthy word he had been about to spit out vanished, trapped in his throat.
He could not see the face of the person behind him. He could only feel the pressure bearing down from above. It was not even aimed entirely at him, yet it was already enough to stiffen his fingers, turn his back cold, and make his breathing go shallow against his will.
The crowd quieted as well.
The passersby who had stepped back to watch the show slowly shifted their attention from the young man on the ground to the person pinning him there.
A refined military uniform.
An old, strangely mismatched curved blade.
And a face marked with impatience and coldness.
Kael stood there, looking down at the man beneath his boot without the slightest trace of emotion in his eyes.
"You’re the owner here."
His voice was low, but it pressed down over all the noise around them.
"This happened right in front of your tavern. What do you plan to do about it?"
Those words were not meant for the young man on the ground.
Even so, they scared him so badly that he stopped breathing.
When Silas stepped out from the entrance of The Black Tankard, the smile on his face was gone. He glanced at the young man pinned to the road, then at Zera leaning against the wall, and finally at Puff in her arms. His expression changed several times in the span of a single breath.
In the end, he stopped a few steps behind Kael and lowered his voice into something almost painfully respectful.
"This was my oversight. Poor management on my part. Please be gracious enough to overlook this small matter. I’ll have someone deal with them at once."
The young man heard that voice, and his head went blank.
That was Silas.
Silas, the owner of The Black Tankard.
On Blackrat Lane, Silas was already one of the people no one wanted to provoke. Even many mercenaries did not dare show open hostility in front of him.
Yet now, Silas was speaking in that nearly fawning tone to the man standing on his back.
The blood drained from the young man’s face, bit by bit.
Only then did it occur to him that he might have picked the wrong enemy.
"Tch. I don’t have time to waste on trash."
Kael lifted his foot.
The weight vanished from the young man’s back.
A heartbeat later, the curved blade withdrew from his throat as well. The instant that cold edge left his skin, the young man instinctively let out a breath of relief. Even then, he did not dare move.
He stayed flat against the ground, fingers digging into the cracks between the stones, not even daring to raise his head.
He knew very well that unless the man behind him gave permission, one careless movement might be enough to send his head rolling from his neck.
"Da...ddy!"
The moment Puff saw Kael, her little body, tense until now, suddenly sprang into motion.
Zera had been holding her protectively in her arms. Puff’s eyes were still red, and tear tracks still clung to her small face. But the instant Kael appeared in front of her, she wriggled free from Zera’s embrace, kicked off with her stubby little legs, and flung herself straight at him.
Kael stood still and did not dodge.
Puff scrambled onto him, climbed up to the back of his neck, and wrapped both tiny hands tightly around his head. Then she buried her face in his hair, as if she had finally grabbed hold of the one thing she had been searching for all along.
"Tch, you little brat!"
Kael’s expression darkened even further.
"Stop pulling my hair."
He cursed at her, but he did not pull Puff off. Puff clung to the back of his neck with absolutely no intention of letting go. Kael merely adjusted his posture a little so she would not fall.
Zera stood by the wall with her head lowered.
"Master Kael..."
Her voice was very soft, still carrying the unease left behind by the scare.
Kael glanced at her.
Of course he understood what had happened. Zera had not stayed in the palace to look after Puff the way he had told her to. Instead, she had brought Puff to Blackrat Lane on her own to look for him.
By all rights, he should have been angry.
And he was a little angry.
But when Zera had been forced back against the wall just now, she had not abandoned Puff. She had not shoved Puff forward as a shield either. Even while trembling in fear, she had kept the little brat locked tightly in her arms, protecting her the entire time.
Kael had seen it.
So he did not scold her right away.
"Tch. I’ll ask you about this properly once we’re back."
As he spoke, he walked toward Zera.
"For now, just behave."
Zera was still leaning against the wall, her fingers trembling faintly. After Kael stopped in front of her, he reached out naturally and took her shaking little hand.
Zera froze.
"Mas... Master Kael?"
Kael’s hand was rough, but his palm was warm. When that warmth covered her hand, the lingering fear in Zera’s chest slowly loosened.
She raised her head and saw that Kael was not continuing to blame her. His brows were only furrowed, his face full of impatience, as if he simply could not stand seeing her remain frightened in a place like this.
"It’s nothing."
Kael turned around.
"Let’s go back."
Right now, he badly wanted to skin the bastard lying behind him alive.
But Puff was still hanging from the back of his neck, and Zera was still here too. Neither of them should stay in Blackrat Lane any longer. They definitely should not remain standing around while this pack of riffraff gawked at them.
So he decided to take them back first.
"General Kael, about the matter we discussed just now... what do you think?"
Kael had just been about to leave when Silas hurriedly spoke up, cutting in before he could go.
"General!?"
The young man lying on the ground went stiff when he heard that title.
Now he finally knew who this man was.
The Suncrest Empire’s strongest Grand General.
Kael Ashborne.
That name had been repeated far too many times across the Suncrest Empire. Some said he had once faced an army of ten thousand enemies alone and turned the battlefield into a dead zone. Others said he was not like an ordinary general at all, but more like a demon wearing a military uniform.
Those stories had been passed around so many times that they had long since gathered plenty of exaggeration.
But at this moment, lying on the ground with the chill of that curved blade still lingering against his neck, the young man did not dare doubt a single one of them.
The mercenaries nearby had heard the title too.
Someone’s face changed.
Someone else instinctively backed away.
The crowd gathered near the entrance, which had been enjoying the spectacle only moments ago, now seemed to be pushed outward by an invisible hand. The eyes that had been filled with curiosity and mockery now held traces of caution.
No one thought this was just another little conflict on Blackrat Lane anymore.
General Kael.
Even if the people present had never seen him with their own eyes, they more or less understood what that title meant in the Suncrest Empire.
Besides, with Kael standing there, no one needed an explanation. Anyone who got close could clearly feel the air around him grow heavy, as if even the lamplight and noise had been forced down a notch.
Kael ignored the people retreating around him.
He only looked at Silas.
"I’ll come find you next time."
His voice was cold and clear.
"When that time comes, you’d better explain yourself properly. Don’t give me anything vague or half-said."
Silas stood among the crowd. The smile on his face had not completely disappeared, but he did not press any further.
Kael gave him one last hard glare.
Then, with Puff hanging from the back of his neck and Zera’s hand in his, he turned and left the entrance of The Black Tankard.
