"D-Done… Sir." Nessa stuttered as she retracted her hands back.
Krod didn't answer immediately. He leaned back slightly, inspecting the leather with exaggerated care. A slow grin crept across his face.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.
A rallod.
Nessa's eyes flickered to it instinctively.
Krod smirked.
Then he tossed the coin casually.
It hit the dirt road with a dull clink.
Nessa stared at it.
Krod nudged it with his boot, grinding it into the dust before kicking it toward her. Dirt scattered upward, peppering Nessa's clothes and face.
He clicked his tongue.
"Well… would you look at that?" He lifted his foot slightly. "Seems the shoes are dirty again."
Her eyes stayed on the coin lying in the dirt.
Krod bent down, picked it up between two fingers, and held it out just enough for her to see.
"I suppose," he said lightly, "you'll have to clean them again if you want this."
Nessa's jaw tightened.
Slowly, she brushed the dust from her clothes. Her gaze moved from the coin… to Krod… then back again.
She inhaled deeply.
Closed her eyes.
And reached for the cloth again.
Krod's grin widened as he placed his foot back on the wooden shoeshine box.
"Try doing it properly this time."
Nessa nodded silently, lifting the cloth.
Her hand hovered over the shoe.
Just then, a hand caught hers.
Aric locked his narrowed eyes at Nessa as he spoke. "I think we are done for today." Krod frowned heavily as Nessa's eyes flickered between her and Krod.
The market around them had begun to quiet, but a few nearby villagers were already watching the scene unfold.
She hesitated.
Then slowly nodded.
Behind them, Tristan had already started gathering the brushes, cloths, and polish from the small wooden box. Aric joined him without another word, carefully placing the tools back into their compartments as if nothing unusual was happening.
"She is not going anywhere until she cleans my shoe." Krod finally snorted. Aric finally looked up.
His gaze drifted down to Krod's boot which he removed from the box… then back up to Krod's face.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Aric calmly slipped a hand into his pocket.
His fingers brushed against a coin.
A rallod.
He pulled it out, holding it between two fingers before letting it fall.
The coin hit the dirt with a soft metallic clink.
Without breaking eye contact, Aric nudged it forward with his foot—kicking it across the road toward Krod.
Dust burst upward from the ground, scattering across Krod's already dirted shoe.
Aric tilted his head slightly.
"Clean it yourself."
A vein popped on Krod's temple as he snarled, "Watch your tongue long ears." Aric didn't respond, instead giving him a fierce look. Krod stepped forward.
His boot came down hard on the wooden shoeshine box Tristan had just lifted.
The box slammed back onto the dirt with a sharp crack.
Tristan flinched as the rough wood scraped across his fingers. Small splinters bit into his skin and he sucked in a quick breath of pain.
Krod didn't even glance at him.
His attention was fixed entirely on Nessa.
"Clean it."
The command came out cold and absolute.
Nessa froze.
Her mind hadn't even caught up with what had just happened when a hand tapped Krod lightly on the shoulder.
Krod turned.
A fist met his face.
The punch landed squarely on his nose.
Aric stood there with his arm extended, expression completely unchanged.
Krod staggered half a step back more out of surprise than force.
The hit itself did very little.
Krod was sixteen– more than twice of Aric's age– and was someone on the verge of breaking through as a mage. His pride however, had been shattered.
For a brief moment, the entire market seemed to hold its breath.
Then Krod's eyes flared red with fury.
"You little—!"
His fist shot forward in retaliation.
Aric grinned.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Krod had taken the bait. A searing pain followed.
The two guards standing behind Krod moved.
One stepped forward and grabbed Tristan, forcing him down to the dirt with practiced ease. The other shoved Nessa aside and pinned her arms behind her back before she could even react.
It happened so quickly neither of them had time to struggle.
By the time Aric turned his head—
They were already on the ground.
Krod wiped the thin trickle of blood from beneath his nose, breathing heavily.
The humiliation burned brighter than the pain.
His lips twisted into an ugly sneer.
"Take them," he spat.
"To the chief."
***
Aric's hands were tied back. He was in a courtyard, sitting down as a familiar old man bore his gaze at him. Nessa and Tristan knelt beside him, thankfully unharmed. Their wrists had been bound earlier, but the ropes now hung loose, ready to be removed. Aric couldn't say the same for himself.
His right eye was swollen and darkened, and every breath sent a sharp pain stabbing through his ribs.
Krod clearly hadn't held back.
"Grandfather!" Krod's voice rang out sharply. "This mongrel punched me in the middle of the market!"
His words dripped with contempt as he stepped forward, pointing at Aric like he was presenting a criminal.
Nuask finally shifted his gaze away from Aric and looked toward his grandson. Slowly, he raised a hand and motioned Krod closer.
Krod obeyed immediately, leaning forward slightly so the chief could inspect the faint bruise on his nose.
For a moment, the courtyard was silent.
Then—
–PHAT!
The crack echoed across the courtyard.
Krod staggered, clutching his cheek as a bright red handprint bloomed across his face.
"Shame on you," Nuask said calmly, "for coming before me like this."
The chief didn't even glance at him again.
Instead, he turned toward the guards.
"Free the other two," he ordered. "Except the one in the middle."
Nessa and Tristan exchanged startled looks as the guards stepped forward and cut their bindings.
"Leave," one of the guards muttered.
Neither of them moved at first.
Their eyes drifted to Aric, worry written plainly across their faces.
Aric met their gaze and gave a small smile.
The two hesitated… then finally stepped back, retreating toward the courtyard exit.
Aric looked at the old man, a small smile appearing, "I was about to say they had nothing to do with this. Thanks."
Nuask didn't acknowledge Aric's statement, rather asking a question, Aric rolled his bruised lip between his teeth before spitting a small line of blood onto the stone beside him.
"He was disrespecting my sister," he said simply. "Looking down on her."
He shrugged slightly despite the pain in his ribs.
"So I got angry."
Nuask studied him for a moment.
Then his gaze shifted to Krod.
The silence stretched just long enough to make Krod uneasy.
Finally, the chief spoke.
"Three lElaras."
Krod's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.
Aric raised an eyebrow.
Then Nuask continued.
"And ten lElaras for you."
Krod's smirk vanished instantly.
"What?!" His face turned pale. "But he hit me first!"
–PHAT!
Another slap rang through the courtyard.
The second mark on Krod's face matched the first.
Nuask lowered his hand slowly.
"Krod."
The chief's voice remained calm, but the disappointment in it cut deeper than the slap.
"He is eight."
His eyes hardened.
"You are seventeen."
Krod's protest died in his throat.
"If the fact that you still haven't formed your conduit wasn't disappointing enough," Nuask continued, "then the idea that a punch from an eight-year-old could bring you before me like this…"
He shook his head slowly.
"…is truly disgraceful."
Krod's eyes widened.
For a moment, he looked as if he might argue again.
But under his grandfather's gaze, his shoulders slowly sank.
His eyes dropped to the ground.
Silence returned to the courtyard.
Aric watched the entire exchange with a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face.