Chapter Twenty-Two #13
Snickers rang out at the squire’s retort. Hunched behind Ulyseon, Maxi flinched and turned her head toward the direction of the sound. Not far from them, a circle of burly men sat playing dice.
One of them howled with laughter and shouted, “Oi, Devron! Didn’t I warn you not to mess with that kid? A few have lost their noses to him because they were fooled by his pretty face. Think how bad his temper must be for people to call him the devil’s spawn when he’s still just a squire.”
Ulyseon’s expression hardened, and Maxi warily studied the speaker’s face. He was a young man with ash-blond hair that was nearly white. Despite his relative youth, a dangerous glint in his eyes conveyed a fierce demeanor. Tossing the dice onto the table, he gave Maxi a stilted smile.
“Damn, another two-three. I’m having terrible luck today, miss,” he crooned. “Why don’t you come here and be my goddess of fortune?”
“That’s enough!” Ulyseon roared. “I will not condone any disrespect to her ladyship, even if you are the vice commander of the Knights of Phil Aaron!”
Maxi’s eyes grew wide. This crude man was a commanding officer of Balto? She could hardly believe that he held such a high rank.
“Her ladyship? Listen here, devil’s spawn,” the man spat. “There are no noblewomen here. Even a princess isn’t regarded as one on a battlefield. Still, with you making so much fuss, it does make me wonder who she is.”
Taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle, the man scanned Maxi from head to foot with the cool gaze of a serpent surveying its prey. “I heard Calypse dragged a woman to his tent. I guess that was you.”
The man’s sinister air made Maxi shrink into herself. When he leaped to his feet and began walking over, Ulyseon tried to get between them. The man managed to evade the squire and grabbed Maxi’s wrist, yanking her toward him.
He smirked. “She is rather appealing. But nowhere near your princess. I wonder what trick she had up her sleeve to rope in someone as cold-blooded as Calypse.”
“Unhand her, Richard Breston!” Ulyseon barked. He pointed his sword at the man, who did not even bat an eyelid.
“Look here, runt. No one has dared point their sword at me and survived,” the man said scornfully. “Should I take this as your death wish?”
“She is Sir Riftan’s wife!” Ulyseon shouted. “If you do not unhand her this instant, it will be you who won’t be spared!”
“Ha! What a show that would be.” Breston’s eyes flashed as he looked down at Maxi. “I’ve always wanted to see that southern mutt foam at the mouth!”
Having reached the end of his patience, Ulyseon charged. All at once, the men standing at the back drew their swords and blocked the young squire.
Sensing that the situation was escalating out of hand, Maxi held her breath, her knees wobbling. She was more terrified now than when she had faced monsters.
Breston tugged Maxi closer to him, his grip painfully tight on her wrist. “You, I heard that you’re of royal Roemian blood.
As someone from such a prestigious lineage, don’t you think it’s preposterous that a pagan mongrel from the south is hailed as Rosem Wigrew’s reincarnation?
” Still clutching her arm, he reached out with his other hand to cup her chin.
He yanked her face forward and added in a chillingly soft voice, “Wigrew is the hero of the west. His name should not be sullied by a peasant with a barbarian mother.”
Maxi’s eyes blazed at the man’s despicable sarcasm. How dare this lout mock the greatest and most honorable knight in the realm? Forgetting that she had been trembling with fear just moments ago, Maxi glowered at the man.
In a surge of anger, she kicked Breston’s shin. Unfortunately, he was wearing gaiters. A sharp pain shot through Maxi’s foot. She hopped up and down in agony as Breston roared with laughter, still clutching her wrist.
“A little delight, aren’t you?” he guffawed.
“U-Unhand me!” Maxi cried. She struggled to break free, but Breston maintained his grip as easily as if she were a flapping bird.
“Are you angry for that mutt’s sake?” he sneered. “You should be ashamed of yourself, miss.”
“S-Stop…c-c-calling my husband a m-mutt!” She stumbled over her words more than usual as humiliation and rage threatened to burst out of her chest.
Leering down at her bright red face, Breston gave her a cruel smile. He leaned closer, his nose nearly touching hers, and said slowly, “Your husband is a filthy mutt. It’s written all over his face. Have you not noticed?”
“Y-Y-You—!”
Her jaw quivered with fury. She had never felt so angry in her life. As she struggled to wrench her arm away, Maxi desperately racked her brain for a slight that would make this conceited man’s blood boil just as much.
“You…are j-just…j-jealous of him!” she spat. “Because…y-you know…you don’t hold a candle to him…. I-Isn’t that why y-you are slandering him behind his back like a coward? H-How can you…even c-call yourself a knight?! You are the one…wh-who should be ashamed!”
The smile vanished from Breston’s face. The mocking gleam in his eyes turned stone-cold.
Terrified, Maxi eyed the man’s cruel face, his broad shoulders, and the rough hand that still had an iron grip around her wrist. She trembled in fear at the thought that he might strike her with his fist.
“U-Unhand me…p-please,” she croaked, her voice barely audible.
Breston’s lip curled in a nasty snarl. “On second thought, I think you’re the perfect wife for that bastard. A stammering fool. Fitting for a lowlife like him.”
The color drained from Maxi’s face. She wanted to lash back, but her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes burned with tears of mortification and shame. Seeing her bite her lip, Breston clicked his tongue and flung her wrist away like a cat that had grown bored of its prey.
At that moment, a loud smack rang out. Maxi screamed. Before she could even grasp what was happening, Breston went flying back like a rag doll and barreled into one of the tents.
Paying no heed to the shouts coming from all around him, Riftan pulled the man up from the fallen tent and punched him again. Having been assaulted twice while defenseless, Breston’s crumpled face looked as incensed as a demon’s.
“You damned bastard!” Breston straightened and drew the dagger at his waist. He spat out a mixture of blood and saliva, then charged at Riftan.
Maxi screamed again, not caring if her throat ripped from the effort. Even so, it was not enough to distract the men from snarling at each other like angry beasts.
Breston charged like an enraged bull while brandishing his dagger, which Riftan nimbly dodged.
In the blink of an eye, Breston’s dagger was in Riftan’s hand and Breston was pinned face down on a game table.
Maxi stared in disbelief as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She could not understand how he had done it.
Having easily overpowered Breston, Riftan roughly gripped the man’s jaw. Forcing his mouth open, Riftan shoved the dagger into it.
“You’ll probably live longer without your tongue,” Riftan growled savagely as he thrust the dagger deeper.
The man flinched and grew as rigid as though the tip of the blade pricked his Adam’s apple. Even at a glance, the Baltonian was half a head taller and much heavier than Riftan. Yet Riftan had managed to subdue him without even breaking a sweat.
Staring down at his immobilized opponent, Riftan hissed, “Out of the goodness of my heart, I will cut out this treacherous tongue so that it no longer entreats its master’s death.”
“Calypse! That’s enough!” The Baltonian soldiers blocking Ulyseon pointed their swords at Riftan as they bellowed their outrage.
Riftan remained unfazed. He said icily, “Very well. Do you want to see whose blade is faster?”
Up until a few seconds ago, the Baltonian soldiers had looked as though they would charge at any moment. They stopped dead at Riftan’s quiet threat, their faces growing red with anger.
“You dare threaten us like a coward?” the Baltonians fumed. “You still call yourself a knight?!”
“Is intimidating a woman a knightly thing to do?” Riftan snapped back.
His gaze landed on Maxi’s blanched face, and his eyes blazed like two dark flames.
“You’ve been itching to get on my nerves, Breston, and you’ve finally succeeded. Quite adeptly at that. I will grant your wish for blood.”
“You’d better stop now, Calypse!” a Baltonian shouted. “You attacked Sir Richard while he was defenseless. Do not think for a second that we’ll forgive such cowardice!”
“If I were you, I would be more embarrassed that he didn’t see the attack coming until the dagger was in his face,” Riftan sneered. “Not to mention losing his weapon in a fight like a fool.”
Breston’s imperious face was dark with rage and humiliation. Maxi stood as still as a rock in the stifling tension, not knowing what to do.
No one moved, and yet the air crackled with hostility as both sides refused to back down in the power struggle. Veins protruded from the vice commander’s neck, and blood trickled from his gaping mouth.
Riftan tightened his grip until the muscles on his forearm stood stark against his skin.
“You’re more bearable without that revolting smirk on your face,” Riftan growled. “Allow me to help you not be bothered by it again.”
Tension boiled around them like a volcano on the brink of eruption. Suddenly, a clear voice cut through.
“That’s enough!”
Everyone except Riftan turned to look behind them. Princess Agnes pushed past the spectators who had gathered around the fight, regal authority emanating from her piercing blue eyes.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t cause any trouble until all this was over?”
“This man intimidated and insulted my wife,” Riftan said, his voice low and ominous. “He has to pay for what he did.”
“It’s true!” Ulyseon cried out, fervently defending his commander. “These men tried to harass her ladyship. Sir Riftan’s retaliation is completely just!”