Behind the young man, the trees fell to the ground with a creak. The young noble blinked and tried to say something. Neither his mind nor his soul had had enough time to realize what had just happened. His body fell apart into dozens of bloody chunks.
Turning his back on the lifeless meat that remained, Hadjar shot the aristocrats a single glance. That was enough for them to realize a beast had just marked them as prey. No human could exude such raw malice. This time, they didn’t reach for their weapons. On the contrary, they only raised their hands and took a step back. They were doing their best to demonstrate their peaceful intentions with every fiber of their being.
The stick turned to dust, which annoyed Hadjar. Even now, his knowledge of the Way of the Sword wasn’t deep enough to reach the ‘Wielder of the Sword’ Stage.
“Why did Fate bring such a psycho into my life?” Nero muttered, covering his face with his hands. “Not a farmer or a blacksmith. Or a musician, even. No! I had to get the damned psychopath!”
“Whiner,” Hadjar snorted.
“Lunatic.”
“Pampered little princeling!”
“Barefooted bastard!”
Hadjar looked at his shabby boots.
“I like them well enough.”
The sight of the Prince and the General laughing next to a bloody corpse wouldn’t be forgotten by the other participants of the hunt for a long time to come.
Chapter 224
The capital greeted the squad with a morning chill and bliss. There were very few people on the streets this early in the day. Perhaps there was activity somewhere else, in other, less prestigious districts of the city, but not at the Palace.
As the aristocrats, the Prince, and the Princess rode ahead of the group, they entered the city through a special, royal gate. Nero and Hadjar were slightly annoyed by the soldiers in emerald armor insisting on patting them down. The damned Imperial legionnaires were guarding the Kingdom’s main gates! The most irksome fact was that the rest of the people from Lidus considered this to be normal.
“It seems that our country has been occupied,” Nero whispered so that only his friend could hear him.
Hadjar felt the same. As they passed by the two huge lions and entered the Palace’s territory, this feeling only intensified. Every five yards, patrols of soldiers in emerald armor were walking along the paved pathways. They looked around at the garden and park as if they belonged to them. The realization that his ancestors’ home was being defiled by strangers gave Hadjar a nervous tic. His hand reached for the hilt of Moon Beam, but he restrained himself. He hid his rage and anger deep inside the dragon’s heart, ensuring that when the patrols passed by them, no one could notice his bloodthirsty desire to slay them all.
Before they reached the Palace gates, a carriage intercepted them. More accurately, a house on wheels, drawn by a dozen white horses. Ten guards stood on various parts of the coach. A detachment of seventy warriors in emerald armor accompanied it.
“Well, it’s begun,” Nero sighed.
He was the first to notice the heraldic images on the carriage — a parchment, a gold coin, and a lion — the symbols of the Boreas. Realizing that the father of their dead friend had arrived, the aristocrats smiled wickedly and urged their horses forward to meet their ‘ally’. They completely forgot about the coffin that was being carried by the soldiers.
The cooks, realizing the danger, hurried to move aside. If they could have done so, they would’ve immediately rushed into the castle. Alas, they had to obey the King’s order about the whole group having to return together.
Hadjar and Nero jumped down from their horses. They did so none too soon, as the seventy imperial legionnaires moved to encircle them right away. They were like mechanical dolls, moving in unison without a single error. Then, with a loud “Hey!” they stuck their shields into the ground and moved their spears forward.
Two men got out of the carriage, forgoing the help of their servants. Hadjar was surprised at how much their children had resembled them — it was as if Oneg and his friend had risen from the dead, then aged thirty years.
Visibly furious, the Duke of Boreas advanced on the group. He was a handsome, white-haired man with many scars on his face that he’d earned in battle. Wearing black, silk clothes decorated with jasper and amber, he didn’t look like a fat and lazy official. The wide saber at his thigh only reinforced this impression.
Behind him came the father of Oneg’s friend. He was a typical, elegant shopkeeper who had risen so high up that he’d been able to buy his noble title. Always hiding behind his more decisive friends, but skillfully moving the figures on the chessboard, he had earned the recognition of the crown.
The young aristocrats easily got past the legionaries. They parted for them, and then closed their ranks again. Only the Prince, Princess, former General, and cooks remained in the encirclement.
The soldiers who had accompanied the squad during the hunt had been behind them and hadn’t managed to join them before the encirclement happened. Now the legionaries were also menacing them. This only reinforced the feeling of occupation.
“Princess Elaine,” the Duke growled, his eyes flashing. “I would ask that you and your brother leave the encirclement.”
“And why should we do that?” Elaine asked, remaining on her horse.
A vein started throbbing on the Duke’s forehead and his fists clenched.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Princess,” Boreas answered. “Baron Traves killed my son and needs to answer for his crime with his life. Right now!”
The legionnaires heard the Duke’s cry and took a step forward with another
