"You believe that debts disappear like mist?" the man mocked. "Lord Atkins is owed thirty gold marks by your family. Thus, this is your fate until your family reimburses him."
One of the battered men screamed, "Please! We paid the dues last week, and we need more time to gather the money."
Pinel scoffed and poured his wine over the man, saying, "Try selling your niece, and a gold mark will be obtained."
Steven gritted his teeth.
He felt a quiet rage burning in his chest.
Clinton already reached for his sword as he asked. "Should we get involved?"
Steven moved forward without saying a word as he walked through the crowd.
He kept his gaze on the nobleman.
Steven remarked in a composed yet firm tone. "You appear to take pleasure in torturing the weak."
Pinel squinted as he spun. "And who are you to meddle?"
Steven smiled slightly. "You are not worthy to know. From my perspective, you are just a jumping clown."
Pinel became red. "You dare—! Seize him."
Twyford and Clinton immediately flanked Steven, hands on their blades, as the hooligans advanced.
Steven held up his hand. "Make a sensible decision because your next action could be your last. I can assure you that this is not a threat but a statement."
A tense silence descended.
The nobleman looked at hardened warriors behind Steven, and fear crept into his mind.
Then he backed away with a snort. "You are going to regret this. Baron Atkins does not like meddling strangers."
Steven said icily. "Do not waste your breath worrying about me. I will definitely live longer than you."
After spitting at the ground, Pinel hurried away, his men trailing behind him.
Steven knelt next to the battered men, and then he commanded his men to dress their wounds.
Twyford smiled. "My prince, why do you let them go?"
Steven glanced around at the cautious expressions on their faces. "The time is not right."
His eyes squinted, already formulating a strategy.
Alongside Steven, the three beaten and wounded men hobbled slowly through weathered cobbled streets.
"Thank you for assisting us," one of the men said in a painfully raspy voice.
Even though their blood now dripped from their smashed nostrils and parted lips, pride still seemed to be deeply ingrained in their veins.
Steven turned and nodded softly. "What are your names?"
"My name is Robert," the oldest said, a slender man in his forties with a severely puffy corneal and a stiffened face.
"This is my younger brother, Gurney," he said, pointing to a shorter, limping man.
Gurney looked at Steven suspiciously and gripped his bruised ribs. "You are not a local."
Steven said, "No. However, I could not just stand there and do nothing."
The younger man next to him, Ulmer, coughed. "Those thugs visit once a week, and now we have run out of things to offer the noble, Baron Atkins."
Steven had read it in the letter, and now he was hearing it from men who had been mistreated.
The name sounded like a nasty tune.
Ulmer complained bitterly. "Atkins seized the land and sold our homes as payment for our debts. The House of Talvace is like a curse in this city."
Steven glanced up at the gray sky, then back at the three men in front of them.
"Take me to your home," he uttered softly.
Despite their perplexed looks, they traveled through the shuttered stores and dilapidated streets, the road filled with starving children.
Gurney remarked. "This region was not always like this."
Steven was silent, and he balled his fists under his cloak. "The city and its people are having a hard time."
Robert muttered, "Trade has ceased, and the roads are occupied by bandits. Baron Atkins insists that every household that is even remotely associated with House Talvace pays him, and now they have taken—
Steven inquired. "Who was taken?"
Ulmer was hesitant. "We were unable to make the payment last month, so they took the daughter of Lord Durwin. They threatened that she would be sold to pay off the debt."
Steven inquired, "Where is she now?"
Gurney uttered hastily. "The Eastern Hills owned by Baron Atkins. But avoid him because he is crueler than the mountain devils and well-protected."
At last, they came to a halt in front of a squat, crooked stone house. A girl emerged as the door creaked open.
She exclaimed, "Uncle!" and hurried to Robert.
Robert smiled brightly as the company entered the room.
Steven sat quietly inside the small room. "What is the situation of House Talvace."
With a bitter laugh, Gurney said. "Some of them ran away, others bowed to Atkins. Those who remained faithful became like us."
Steven inquired further. "What happened to those that resisted?"
Robert sighed sadly. "They died without a burial place."
Steven turned and stated. "I want to get to know the family better. Will you take me to your leader?"
Gurney had a confused expression. "Why are you assisting us?"
Steven got up and tossed a pouch of coins onto the table. "This is my home."
As he approached the door, Steven said without turning around. "We will talk more tomorrow."
Long shadows were cast on the dirt-strewn streets as the morning sun spilled across its uneven rooftops.
Steven followed Gurney through a narrow alleyway. They came to an abrupt halt in front of a small manor with iron tools lining the outside wall.
Gurney knocked firmly twice on the door before declaring, "He is inside."
The door opened to reveal a man with broad shoulders and silver streaks in his beard.
He gazed for a long moment. "...Steven?"
Steven flicked his eyes. "What did you call me?"
The man advanced. "Anywhere, I would be able to identify those eyes."
Confounded, Steven turned to Gurney. "I did not say my name—"
"You did not have to," the man said, his voice gravelly and emotionally charged. "At the time of her birth, I held your mother in my arms. I was present on the day she departed from Headow to wed the King."
He took a step closer and chuckled quietly. "You are indeed a son of Talvace."
Steven blew out his breath. "So much for remaining anonymous."
The man held out his arms. "Boy, you cannot conceal blood."
Steven said warily. "Uncle Durwin?"
The man said, "Yes," and drew him into a tight, securing hug.
Durwin laughed and beckoned him inside. "Come on."
He was pouring a dark brew into chipped mugs as Steven sat on a shabby stool.
He handed one over and took a seat across the table.
Durwin said, his eyes sparkling. "Have you come to our rescue after reading my letters?"
Steven grinned into his mug. "Do I appear to be a savior?"
Honestly, Durwin said, "You seem like an impending storm."
Finally, Steven spoke. "I came for a fresh start, a new beginning."
Durwin said as he leaned forward. "You arrive here with skilled men and a burning look in your eyes. The House Talvace is yours to command, I look forward to your future exploits."
Steven examined him. "You trust me so much?"
Durwin shrugged. "I am getting old, and this place needs a new ruler."
Steven finally uttered. "I will try not to disappoint the ancestors."
Durwin grinned mischievously. "You must spend the night. There is so much to learn and so little time."
The next day, the morning mist hung over Headow like a curse.
Swords slung low, eyes alert, five men dressed in the subdued mercenary uniform rode alongside Steven.
Alongside him, Twyford rode in silence, his keen eyes scanning the streets like a hawk on a hunt.
Finally, he inquired. "Are you certain you wish to handle this on your own?"
Steven pulled his hood down and mumbled. "Who will, if not me? In addition to... I must see this new enemy."
Twyford gave a sly smile. "That look is back on you."
Steven was intrigued. "What do you see?"
In response, Twyford said. "Rage."
Although he smiled dryly, Steven remained silent.
The rest of the men rode silently behind them.
Cobblestones became cleaner, houses got bigger, and guards in red tunics looked on with slack-jawed haughtiness.
The Eastern hills stood at the far end.
With its tall iron gates, twin guard towers, and a fountain of white marble that featured a long-dead hero, his estate resembled a fortress.
Steven stepped off his horse and commanded, "Wait here for an hour."
Twyford furrowed his forehead. "Just an hour?"
Steven nodded and walked up to the gate.
"What business has brought you here, sellsword?" one person said, his lip curled.
A broken-seal letter with a noble crest was held up by Steven. "I have come to talk to Baron Atkins about the girl from Talvace."
The guard paused when he heard the name.
His response was, "Family visits are not allowed."
Steven relaxedly declared. "I am here to resolve an important issue, conflict, or coin."
He looked straight ahead, there was a rage burning in his eyes.