After the intense sparring match, Varron made his way back to his bedroom. His body ached from the strain of the fight, his muscles screaming for rest. He dismissed Melissa with a nod of thanks, choosing to be alone for a while.
He stepped into the bathroom, letting the warm water of the shower wash away the sweat and fatigue. As the water cascaded down his body, he replayed the events of the day in his mind. He had surprised everyone, including himself. He had stood his ground against one of the kingdom's best knights, proving that he was more than just the cruel Lord Varron.
'This is the nice start,but It's still far from enough.'
Varron thoughts as he turn get out from the bathroom.
Once he was done with his shower, Varron wrapped a towel around his waist and returned to his room. His eyes fell on his desk, on the manuscript that lay there. It wasn't his novel, but rather a collection of scenes where he had appeared in his novel.
'This manuscript took time about 2 days for me to finish writing it,but it was worth it.This will be useful for me.'
Varron thoughts as he approached the desk.
As he picked up the manuscript, his fingers traced over the words, over the scenes that depicted him in various situations. He had always been a character in his own story, a villain to be precise. But today, he had stepped out of those pages, challenging some of the narrative that had been written for him.
He sat there, the manuscript in his hands, his mind filled with thoughts. His goal wasn't to become a hero. He simply wanted to see the end of this story, to see where his actions would lead him.
As Varron flipped through the manuscript, his eyes fell on a certain date. It was today's date, a day marked for a significant event in his narrative - the day he was supposed to meet "Her" for the first time.
"Her" - the woman who, according to his novel, held a deep grudge against Varron. In the narrative he'd written, Varron had caused her a significant injury, cutting off her right arm in a heated duel. This event had sparked a deep resentment in her towards him.
As he sat there, the manuscript in his hands, Varron found himself filled with a sense of anticipation and a touch of unease. He had written the narrative, had crafted her character and their complex relationship, but experiencing it in reality was a different matter altogether.
He wondered what she would be like. Would she be as he had imagined, as he had written? Would the grudge she bore in the novel translate into reality? And how would he face her, knowing the pain his character had caused her in the narrative?
"Because of Varron who cut off her right arm,she can become one of the most powerful character in the future.This mean that my decision on this matter will also determine her future."
Whether to follow the novel,or against it.
.
.
.
After reflecting on the manuscript, Varron made a decision. He stood up, making his way. He was going to face "Her," to face the consequences of his actions in the narrative.
He walked over to the door, calling out for Melissa.
The maid appeared almost instantly, a look of surprise on her face.
"Lord Varron?" she asked, her gaze falling on the sword at his side. Every family of Ainsworth will be given the high quality weapons according to their interest when they reach 10 years old and this sword is one of the weapons.
"I need you to accompany me," Varron said, his voice firm. "We're going to the streets of the kingdom."
"The streets, my Lord?" Melissa queried, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What business do we have there?"
Varron paused, considering his words carefully. "I have something in mind," he finally said. "It's... important."
Melissa looked at Varron, her eyes searching his face. She can't help but remembered the old Varron, the one who had treated her poorly.The one who made her suffered and cause some sort of trauma in her.
But this Varron, the one standing in front of her, was different. He was kinder, more considerate. He had changed.
'Just this one time.'
Despite her past experiences, Melissa chose to trust Varron. She saw in him a chance for redemption, a chance for a better future. She nodded, ready to stand by his side, to support him in whatever came next.
"As your command, My Lord."
As they stepped out of the castle, the bustling streets of the kingdom greeted them. The sounds of merchants hawking their goods, the chatter of townsfolk, the clatter of horse-drawn carriages - it was a symphony of life that was both familiar and comforting.
With Melissa by his side, Varron made his way through the streets, his eyes scanning the crowd. He was ready to face whatever came his way.
As Varron and Melissa stepped out of the mansion and into the bustling streets of the kingdom, they were met with a symphony of life. The air was filled with the chatter of townsfolk, the clatter of horse-drawn carriages, and the enticing aroma of food stalls lining the streets.
Varron led the way, his eyes scanning the crowd as they walked. His gaze was sharp, observant, taking in the expressions of the people they passed. There was a mix of curiosity, surprise, and a hint of fear in their eyes. After all, it was not every day that they saw the feared noble walking amongst them.
"Lord Varron," Melissa began, her voice barely audible above the din of the street. "Why are we here?"She ask the same question as before.
Varron glanced at her, his gaze softening slightly.
"I need to see the world beyond the mansion walls, Melissa," he replied. "I need to understand the people, their lives."
'And also,find her.'
Melissa nodded, understanding his words. As they continued to explore the streets, they passed various stalls - merchants hawking their goods, food vendors offering delicious street food, and entertainers performing for the crowd. The streets were alive with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet, imposing mansion they had left behind.
As they walked, they noticed the gazes of the people around them. Some were curious, others wary. But amidst all the gazes, there was a common thread - a sense of respect, and a touch of fear. After all, they were in the presence of Lord Varron, a man known for his power and ruthlessness.
As Varron and Melissa navigated through the bustling streets, a commotion caught their attention. A crowd had gathered in a circle, their expressions a mix of fear and anger.
"Did they watching some sort of show?"
Melissa wonder.As both of them approach the crowd,their face distorted.
At the center of the crowd was a lowly noble, his face twisted in a cruel sneer as he berated a mother and daughter.
"You dare to bump into me, you lowly commoners?" the noble spat, his voice filled with contempt.
The commoners were dressed in simple clothes, their faces pale and frightened. The mother was trying to shield her daughter, her voice trembling as she pleaded,
"We... we didn't mean to, my Lord. Please, forgive us."
But the noble seemed to relish their fear, his voice rising with each cruel word he threw at them.
"Forgive you? You should know your place!"
Varron's gaze hardened as he watched the scene unfold. His cold eyes studied the noble, the mother and daughter, and the crowd that watched in silence. He said nothing, his silence speaking volumes about his thoughts on the situation.
Melissa, standing beside him, watched the scene with wide eyes. She could see the fear in the mother and daughter's eyes, could feel their helplessness.
She turned to Varron, her voice barely a whisper, "It's... it's not fair, Lord Varron. They did nothing wrong."
Varron just stay silent, his eyes never leaving the noble. Despite his cold demeanor, those who looked closely could see a glimmer of anger in Varron's eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
The noble's tirade was like a dark cloud hanging over the bustling marketplace. Varron turned to Melissa, his gaze serious and probing.
"Do you want to save them?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet carrying an undeniable weight.
Melissa looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. She glanced back at the mother and daughter, their faces etched with fear and desperation. She could feel their helplessness, a feeling all too familiar to her. Then she looked back at Varron, his gaze steady and unwavering. In his eyes, she saw not just the cold noble she had known, but a flicker of something else - a silent plea for justice, a spark of hope.
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a wild drum. She felt a surge of emotions - fear, uncertainty, but also a strong desire to help.
"This lowly maid,beg you.Please help them, my Lord," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with determination.
Varron gave a low hum, an unspoken promise in his eyes. He then stepped forward, his tall figure parting the crowd like a ship cutting through waves. His eyes, as cold as the winter frost, bore into the noble. He stopped a few feet away from the lowly noble, his gaze never wavering.
Everyone can't help but surprised to see the feared noble decided to step in.
The noble turned to face Varron, his sneer fading into surprise.
"L-Lord Varron?" he stuttered, his confident demeanor crumbling like a house of cards. He hadn't expected the feared noble to intervene.
Varron stared at the noble, his voice calm and steady as he spoke.
"Your noise is disturbing my peace," he said, his words simple but filled with a weight that made the noble shrink back.
"Do you,a lowly noble even know,what will happened if you disturbing my peace?"