A carriage was moving through the woods at a calm pace. Inside, a young boy gazed out of the window, the dense trees blurring past. The carriage driver, a grizzled man with a warm smile, broke the silence.
"Hey, kid, what are you planning to do in Mailie?" the driver asked, his voice gruff but friendly.
The boy turned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're joking, right? Why else would a young lad travel to Mailie, the place where Postknight trainees are trained? Obviously, I'm going to apply to the Postknight Academy."
The driver chuckled. "Uh... my bad. Well, you don't look all that strong to be a Postknight. Have you passed the medical test yet?"
"Well, no. I've only passed the preliminary written test. I just got the mail yesterday," the boy said, adjusting his wooden sword strapped to his side. "This year, the medical tests are being conducted in Mailie itself. It's probably because there are so few trainees selected each year, so they decided to centralize the testing instead of conducting it all over the Prism Kingdom. That's why there's only one venue."
"Ah, now I get it. So, are you confident you'll pass the test?"
"I can't say for sure what will happen," the boy admitted with a confident grin, "but I can promise one thing—I'll try my best."
The driver nodded, impressed by the boy's spirit. "Hmm… you know, kid, this is a long route. It'll take almost three hours to reach Mailie, so I think we should take a break. Look, there's a little inn over there."
The boy followed the driver's pointing finger and saw a modest inn nestled among the trees. "Sure," he said, hopping out of the carriage eagerly.
Inside, the inn had a rustic charm, with wooden tables and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. They ordered a meal, but the peaceful atmosphere was soon shattered.
A group of thugs barged in, led by a sneering man with a cruel glint in his eye. "Hey, old man," one of the thugs said, slamming a fist on the counter. "Where's our protection fee?"
The innkeeper, a wiry man with tired eyes, stammered, "Sorry, sir, this month's income wasn't enough to pay you guys."
"Oh, come on, don't give me that crap. You should have something, or why bother running this place?" the thug sneered. "We've been looking for a new base anyway. What do you think, boss? Isn't this place just perfect?"
A towering figure entered, his bulk filling the doorway. His sharp eyes scanned the room with disdain. "Yeah, it certainly is," he rumbled.
"Boss Yama, why'd you go through the trouble of coming here? If you'd asked me, I'd have come to your place," the thug said, trying to flatter him.
"Well, I thought I'd enjoy a good meal here after collecting the protection fee," Yama said, his voice as smooth as it was menacing. "But it seems you're not giving my men what they're owed. Aren't you afraid?"
The innkeeper's voice quivered. "Um... I really couldn't gather enough money this month. If I gave you everything now, my family would be broke."
"Hmm… okay, I'll let it slide this time," Yama said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
"Thank you so much for showing mercy, Boss Yama," the innkeeper said, bowing repeatedly.
"Wait a bit. In exchange, you'll have to give me your wife for one night," Yama said, his smirk widening.
The innkeeper froze. "Wh-what? No, you can't! She's three months pregnant. Please, have some mercy, Boss Yama. I beg you," he pleaded, falling to his knees.
Before Yama could respond, his men shoved the innkeeper aside and surrounded a defiant-looking woman who emerged from the backroom.
"Damn it! Why did you come out? Please, go back inside," the innkeeper cried out in despair.
Yama stepped closer to the woman, reaching out with a predatory grin. But his hand froze mid-air as one of his men collapsed with a loud thud.
"It seems like you people have no respect for women, who are, in truth, mothers to all of us," a calm but firm voice said.
All heads turned to see the boy from the carriage standing there, gripping a wooden sword with steady hands. His determined eyes gleamed as he faced the thugs.
"Hey, who the hell are you? How'd you take down Zakir?" one thug shouted, his voice shaking.
The boy smirked, twirling his wooden sword. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Solis, and I'm going to become the next Legendary Postknight."
The room fell silent for a moment before Yama burst into laughter. "A kid? Legendary? Don't make me laugh! Boys, teach him a lesson."
The first thug lunged at Solis with a club. Solis sidestepped gracefully, using his sword to strike the thug's wrist with precision. The thug yelped, dropping the weapon.
"Lesson one: Always protect your dominant hand," Solis quipped, his confidence growing.
Another thug came from behind, swinging wildly. Solis ducked, sweeping the thug's legs out from under him with his sword.
Yama watched with narrowed eyes. "Impressive... but let's see how you handle me."
Solis turned to face Yama, gripping his sword tightly. "Bring it on."