Chapter 106: Uncontrollable Fury

Ruol revealed some secrets, and after hearing them, Shaya finally felt reassured and let go of his doubts. To coax this rustic fellow away, Ruol was forced to disclose some genuine information.

For instance...

“The plan now is for you to go to the war zone and receive commendation. His Majesty has already ordered a personal audience with you. So once you and I return to the war zone headquarters, you must immediately travel to the imperial capital, Osgilia. Coincidentally, I have also received orders to report there, so I’ll accompany you on the journey. I’ll explain everything you need to know along the way. As for the benefits... before His Majesty meets you, you now essentially enjoy the protection of the Emperor himself! Understand? You are now His Majesty’s sword—a weapon to strike down those bigwigs at the military headquarters. So for now, you are in the Emperor’s sight; even if others dislike you, they dare not harm you. At this time, you can ask for some perks—just don’t go overboard. The military headquarters wants to wrap this up quickly without causing trouble, so they’ll try their best to satisfy your demands to keep the peace. You don’t need me to spell out what perks to ask for, do you?” The stout man pinched his chin, staring at Shaya. “I think you’ve got quite the knack for squeezing benefits, don’t you?”

Shaya let out an awkward chuckle. The two men, one large and one small, exchanged glances and suddenly shared the same thought: this kid (or old-timer) really isn’t a good egg...

Shaya packed his belongings—though there wasn’t much to pack—grabbed his fire spear and some clothes, and followed the stout man out of the small courtyard where he’d been under soft house arrest for fifteen days.

Outside, the two squads of soldiers who had been guarding the place had already withdrawn. Taking a deep breath as he stepped out, Shaya felt the winter was quickly fading, and the warmth in the sunlight grew stronger by the day. The rustic fellow stretched leisurely.

Waiting outside was a squad of personal guards from Ruol’s Sixth Corps. Among them were two familiar faces to Shaya: Dodoro and Soyeet, his attendants. They stood at the end of the line. When Shaya emerged with the stout man, Dodoro hurried forward with a wide smile, ready to offer some compliments, but Shaya bypassed him and went straight to Soyeet.

Soyeet’s expression was simple and honest. Shaya patted him on the shoulder and quietly asked, “Those... things?”

Soyeet nodded and replied in Byzantine, tinged with a southern accent, “I’ve kept them all carefully. Not a single item lost, Lord Shaya.”

Shaya felt relieved. He knew he was careless, so he’d already entrusted Kevin, the bald man’s relics, to Soyeet for safekeeping. After all, Soyeet had originally been Kevin’s attendant, so he was better suited to preserve those mementos.

Dodoro felt frustrated. His loyalty was never questioned, yet Soyeet outshone him. Anxiety gnawed at him, so he hurried closer, smiling through his worry. “Lord Shaya, while you were away, I worried day and night! Those blind fools dared to insult you—I truly hate them...”

Shaya already knew the extent of this attendant’s “loyalty” and didn’t bother to glance his way. He tossed a bundle of clothes into Dodoro’s arms.

“These are what I changed into during these days. Wash them quickly.”

Dodoro grumbled inwardly as he hugged the dirty clothes, which included a few underwear and smelly socks. Still, he put on an even more respectful expression, though how he cursed the rustic fellow inside was anyone’s guess.

Having just been “imprisoned,” Shaya hadn’t suffered much during those days. Still, according to Ruol, the first order of business was to find a tavern for a good drink to dispel the bad luck. After eating nothing but meat pies for over ten days, his palate was craving something stronger. And when someone offers to treat you to drinks, how could you refuse?

Judging by Ruol’s corpulent figure, he was probably not a paragon of virtue, and his pockets were likely quite deep. If he wouldn’t eat, then who else?

The group set off immediately for the one-eyed man’s tavern in Wildfire Town—run by Aunt Sophia’s husband, the one-eyed proprietor.

Along the way, Shaya noticed that Wildfire Town had regained a measure of its former bustle. Passing the Black Street intersection, he saw that most shops lining the street were open again, with roadside stalls reappearing. People dressed in various styles crowded the street, slowly restoring the old lively atmosphere. Yet full recovery would still take some time.

After sending most of the guards back to the base, Ruol took only a few attendants along with Shaya and the others. When they reached the one-eyed man’s tavern and stepped inside, they were immediately greeted by chaos.

The cacophony of shouting and cursing nearly lifted the roof off.

Inside, the tavern was a mess—tables and chairs overturned everywhere. The counter was littered with shattered glasses and shards of pottery. Even the iron-chained lamps had been knocked down, and spilled lamp oil had caught fire on a table. Dozens of people were wrestling on the floor, voices shouting in a mix of accents. Bottles and stools flew through the air. Many patrons had already hidden under tables to avoid the flying “missiles.”

Shaya, leading the way, froze at the scene.

In a place like Wildfire Town, brawls in taverns were common, but usually, everyone behaved somewhat decently. Even if there were grudges, disputes were settled by strength and then taken outside. After all, there were only a few taverns in town. If you wrecked one, you’d lose access to all the others.

But today, the entire tavern had been turned into a battlefield. Around thirty soldiers in Byzantine uniforms and leather jackets wielded clubs or broken table legs, mercilessly beating seven or eight tavern regulars. Those being beaten were old customers of the tavern.

Most shocking to Shaya was the sight of the one-eyed tavern owner trampled on the ground!

A Byzantine officer, about thirty years old, his face flushed red and eyes glazed with drunkenness, was shouting and cursing loudly, encouraging the beatings, brandishing a club in his own hand.

Seeing this, Shaya wasted no time. As an old-timer of Wildfire Town, he rolled up his sleeves and charged in with a roar. Like a fierce tiger amid sheep, he barreled into the officer and delivered a flying kick to the man’s chest. The officer cried out and flew backward, crashing into the wooden wall with a loud crack, leaving a big dent.

Shaya grabbed the one-eyed man and pulled him up, pushing him to the side. Then, snatching a wooden club from a nearby soldier, the soldier, seeing Shaya in uniform, was confused. He had thought help had arrived and was shocked when Shaya kicked his officer.

Before the soldier could react, Shaya seized his weapon and struck his arm with the club. There was a sharp crack—the soldier’s arm broke instantly. He screamed in agony, clutching his arm and collapsing to the floor.

“What the hell is going on here?” Shaya finally asked, catching his breath.

Several soldiers quickly surrounded him. The one-eyed man had no time to answer before one soldier struck Shaya’s shoulder with a club. Shaya merely grinned at the astonished man, made a face, then kicked him in the belly. The man dropped to his knees. Two others charged, swinging clubs. Shaya raised his arms to block; the clubs snapped with cracks. He punched them one by one, sending each flying.

“Damn it!” the one-eyed man finally spoke up. “These Byzantine trash got drunk on horse piss and are causing a ruckus in my tavern!”

Shaya smiled, about to respond, but the next words from the one-eyed man ignited his anger.

Since youth, Shaya had regarded Aunt Sophia as his dream woman. As he grew older, he came to understand many things and even found himself secretly rolling his eyes at the one-eyed man—somewhat childish and ridiculous in retrospect.

Later, he learned that Aunt Sophia had a niece, and his heart stirred with hope. He longed to rise in the world and bring that girl home...

Now, the girl was exactly as he had imagined: rough and straightforward, with a notably ample chest and hips. Her rounded thighs and full bosom seemed ready to burst through her jacket—truly enticing. This was precisely the kind of “good woman” the old man from his hometown had taught him to appreciate.

But damn it! Shaya suddenly spotted wet marks on her jacket over her chest and hips—clearly the imprint of two slaps! It was obvious that the drunken officer had been groping her...