During the years he’d spent in the military, Hadjar had gotten used to the fact that stopping to rest during a hunt would entail eating just a small snack of baked potatoes or biscuits. Right now, however, they were sitting on folding wooden chairs at a folding wooden table. It was covered with a white tablecloth, and its legs dug into the ground under the weight of a truly astonishing variety of dishes. There were several bowls of fragrant soup, two kettles for tea, and each of the spoiled brats had their own plates, silverware, porcelain cups, and saucers before them. There were also numerous delicacies, as well as hot and cold snacks.
The maids (who had ridden along in the carts) were serving plates of meat. Not far away, on a huge spit, the severed leg of the Deer that they’d managed to bring down on the first day of the hunt was slowly roasting.
No matter how reluctant Hadjar was to admit it, he had never eaten a meal of this quality before. The soft, juicy meat melted in his mouth, leaving a spicy aftertaste.
There was so much wine that it would’ve been possible to get a whole army drunk. Nevertheless, no matter how much the practitioners drank, they remained sober. Simple alcohol, without the addition of special herbs, could never leave a practitioner intoxicated. The wine that could do so was sold only in the Empire and was prohibitively expensive.
“What else do you want to know about the ‘Falling Leaf’ School?” Oneg laughed. The female aristocrats, except for the aloof Izma, were gathered around him. “Of course, this school is a small one, situated in one of the border towns. But even in such a school, the lead Mentor is a Spirit Knight. You should’ve seen his staff... With just one blow, he was able to split the flow of a river in half.”
His friend continued: “Most of the Masters at the school are at the Heaven Soldier level. All of them are already old, but their advanced age is an advantage. They know a great deal and have seen a lot. Compared to their stories, our Kingdom is nothing more than a simple village.”
“It’s definitely a village,” Oneg slammed his palm against the table. “Don’t be offended, my Princess and Prince, but there’s a huge world out there. We are nothing in the grand scheme of this world.”
No one was going to argue with this truthful statement. Not during the first few minutes, anyway.
“Nothing,” Izma snorted. “Maybe you, Oneg, are nothing.”
The atmosphere became heavy.
“What do you mean, Izma?” One of the girls squeaked.
“Neither Oneg, nor his dear comrade, nor any of us for that matter, have really seen the world! The border towns of the Empire... Ha!”
“That’s farther than I’ll ever get to visit, dear Izma,” Elaine smiled sadly.
After adjusting the bow dangling from her chair, Izma, grumbling something, grabbed a piece of meat from her plate. Using just her bare hands, without any cutlery. She brought it up to her face and bit into it eagerly. This shocked everyone. None of the other nobles could even imagine behaving in such a barbaric manner.
“A village,” Izma repeated, wiping her mouth with the edge of her sleeve. “You dream of traveling while sitting at a table in the middle of a hunt. You, my friends, are hypocrites. During my time at the ‘Four Clouds’ sect, I’ve met people who arrived to the Empire from places so remote that it would take centuries to reach them. And you know what? They didn’t care how they looked or about table manners.”
“Vagabonds,” Oneg retorted, moving away from her. “They are no better than hobos. Even if they enter a civilized society, they’ll still remain the dregs of humanity.”
The aristocrat turned to Hadjar. He didn’t care about the existence of anyone besides Elaine, Nero, and the other offspring of the aristocrats. To him, the cooks, the beaters, the maids, and the former General were as insignificant as the grass growing under his feet.
“To be honest, I’d like to listen to the Baron’s and Prince’s stories,” Izma drained her glass greedily. “You’ve seen much more than we have.”
“What and whom did they see?” One of the other girls piped in. “Dirty and unwashed nomads? It’s not much of an honor to fight against people who aren’t that different from animals.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Oneg shook his head. “How dare you? They defeated that oh so mighty sect. What level was the Patriarch again? A Heaven Soldier at the initial stage? A really fearsome opponent.”
“You forgot about the monster invasion.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, Izma… the invasion. A really terrifying event. My ‘Falling Leaf’ school participated in such battles a mere... five times during the past two years. What about your sect, Izma? As far as I can remember, they fought in three of those?”
The archer nodded and all the nobles turned to Hadjar. Nero glared at the archer with genuine contempt, and Elaine looked from one participant of the scene to the other uncomprehendingly. The Princess probably didn’t understand that this whole exchange and the barbaric meat eating had been a setup. Izma had been working with Oneg. She’d done so to leave Hadjar with no choice.
“If my presence irritates you so much...”
The only thing they hadn’t taken into account was that Hadjar truly didn’t care. Without any vanity or concern for his reputation, he rose from his chair and headed over to the squad of beaters. Their company seemed much more appealing to him. The beaters were very surprised by this.
“Is this what the Mad General is
