As Lassim and Gryphon exited the alchemy shop, their attention was drawn to the imposing figure of a young nobleman accompanied by a retinue of armed guards, their uniforms adorned with the unmistakable crest of the Stalag family—a pair of twin hammers striking a boulder.
The young noble, Adrian Stalag, exuded an air of arrogance and entitlement as he swaggered down the bustling street, his gaze fixed haughtily ahead. He was clearly also 8 years old and here to attend the spirit awakening ceremony tomorrow.
Unaware of Lassim's identity, thinking that he was some commoner, Adrian brushed past him with disdain, his lips curling into a sneer as he muttered, "Stinky trash," under his breath.
Lassim's jaw tensed at the insult, but before he could respond, Adrian's guards stepped forward, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.
With a calm yet determined expression, Lassim met Adrian's gaze, his grip tightening on the handle of his halberd, ready to quickly draw it from his back.
Sensing the tension crackling in the air, Gryphon positioned himself beside his nephew, ready to intervene if necessary.
"Careful now," Adrian sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "You wouldn't want to make an enemy of the Stalag family, would you? We're not ones to be trifled with."
Lassim's response was swift and decisive. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his halberd and assumed a defensive stance, his eyes flashing with determination. "I don't even fear wind wolves, least of all a child that hides behind his family's name and wealth."
Adrian's face contorted with rage at the challenge. He roared, "Who do you think you are? You common trash!" His pride wounded by Lassim's boldness. With a snarl, he drew his twin-hammer weapons from his belt, poised to strike.
But before he could launch his attack, Lassim moved with lightning quick speed, his halberd whistling through the air as it connected with Adrian's forehead with a resounding thud.
The blow was precise and calculated, the blunt end of the halberd delivering a stunning impact that sent Adrian crashing to the ground in a daze. Lassim used the [Fire Halberd] technique's thrusting move for the quick dispatch of Adrian. Lassim wielded his halberd with a great strength that was remarkable for his age.
Adrian's guards were shocked beyond belief! How could their young master lose after barely drawing his hammers? They knew their young master better than anyone as they'd often spare with him in the mornings. Although he was still a mortal and un-awoken, he should still be able to defeat some common trash from the street.
Wearily, his guards were also clearly held at bay by Gryphon's pressure during the strike Lassim launched, but still rushed to Adrian's aid, their expressions a mixture of shock and fury as they helped their master to his feet.
Though no blood was drawn, Adrian bore the mark of his defeat—a bruise blossoming on his forehead where Lassim's halberd had struck. He had been knocked out cold and embarassingly needed to be princess carried away by his guards. Lassim watched them leave with a steely resolve, his stance undaunted by the encounter.
The Iron Marquis had always instilled a deep sense of empathy and kinship for the common people within Lassim, shaping his worldview from a young age. From his earliest memories, his father had impressed upon him the importance of humility, compassion, and respect for all individuals, regardless of their station in life.
Growing up in Swallowtail Mountain City, Lassim had witnessed firsthand the struggles and hardships faced by the common folk—the farmers toiling the in the fields next to the dangerous Emeraldwood Forest where monsters could attack at any time, to the artisans honing their crafts with the few natural resources available in the city, and even the merchants peddling their wares in the bustling marketplace. Each interaction left an indelible mark on his heart, reinforcing his belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person he encountered. Mainly to teach Lassim the value of being a ruler of such a large area so that in the future he would be a kind and strong leader himself.
This made Lassim have a strong sense of justice where he despised other nobles that would look down on others that were "lower" than them.
As they walked back to the inn, Lassim's mind buzzed with thoughts of potential retaliation from Adrian and his family. He couldn't shake the worry that his altercation with the haughty noble would lead to further trouble, perhaps even a feud between their families. He'd never interacted with any of the other families, but only memorized their names and family crests from Sir Ian's lessons.
Sensing his nephew's unease, Gryphon placed a reassuring hand on Lassim's shoulder. "Don't fret, lad," he said in a soothing tone.
"The Stalag family may be influential, but they're just viscounts. They likely don't even realize they insulted the son of the Iron Marquis. Tomorrow, when they learn of their mistake, Adrian will be the one left shocked. He might even prostrate himself and make that bruise on his forehead larger begging for your forgiveness." He laughed.
Gryphon's words offered a measure of comfort to Lassim, easing the knot of anxiety that had formed in his stomach. His uncle was right—that his family's reputation would serve as a shield against any potential repercussions from their encounter with Adrian Stalag. The same shield that once protected the supply lines from the horrid Dragal.
With newfound resolve, Lassim nodded in agreement. "You're right, Uncle Gryphon," he replied, his voice steadier than before. "I won't let it bother me. Let's focus on enjoying the rest of our time here in Golden Lotus River City."
After their adrenaline filled excursion, and after trying a few more street food stalls, Lassim and his uncle returned back to the inn for the night.