"I come from a humble background of people who like putting effort in what we do. What you saw recently was a matter of diligence."
"Diligence is a nice attribute. I see you came from a background of diligent people. In that case, I will not have to worry about you delivering." Mo replied and began to leave. Boln observed Lores for a good while as if suspecting something.
"I'm sure you know what protecting his highness's interest is all about. Do not try anything funny." His voice frosty and strict. At that moment, Lores thought that the phrase 'Don't bite more than you can chew' was made for him. He was not sure of how to respond. Before he could give the slightest reaction, Boln was already in tow after the prince. Hilbwet who had been silent mimicked subsequently.
When they left, some of the guards who were swordplay freaks crowded Lores, gabbling friendly words simultaneously.
"Hey, I'm Wes. Your skills are top-notch. Let's be practice partners."
"You're really good. How about becoming friends?"
"Call me Lance. It will be a pleasure to practice with you."
"Hey! Who's your teacher? I'd be very glad to learn from you."
Lores let out a confused soundless laugh as he scratched his hair, eyes drifting between the extroverts. To him, the attention he got was exaggerated because he still saw himself as a learner. He needed to get the hell out of the training zone as quickly as possible.
Not willing to make friends, he accelerated out of the zone without uttering a syllable. That was the possible best and only option.
-
"When your dad was arrested that day, he was brought here. He was arrested by the king himself, so he would be somewhere unaccessible by any person. It will be impossible to save him unless we get vital information." Vicksen mused, walking side by side Lores.
"I believe he can hold on till we get to the bottom of all this. If that prince's palace can be strictly guarded like that, how much more the royal palace? We only speculated that he may be in the dungeon. We really can't tell where exactly he'd been abandoned." Lores sighed and crossed his arms. "With time, I'll get that prince let out the useful intelligence." He reached an inference that to play a safe and rational game, the program had to change from infiltrating the palace to obtaining useful intelligence.
"By the way." Lores began after a bout of hush. "How have business been for you?" Vicksen became sulky, ruffling his hair.
"That old smith. He said I'm not competent because my hand-eye co-ordination failed to improve. I'll have to count on your job."
"Well, he didn't lie. Now you're on the verge of loosing your job. Assuming I haven't gotten a job, both of us would've been in deep mess." Lores bragged.
"Alright stop praising yourself. I'm even tired of working under him. I can decide to leave. In any case, I was the one who offered to help. I'm positive that another opportunity will come."
As they talked, a group of about eight guys clustered onward, causing them to stop in their tracks. Judging from their stares and aura, they meant no good. They were already sporting spirited exercises like rolling up their sleeves, neck cracking and head cocking.
The duo exchanged glances in complete confusion. Lores began to wonder when it became a routine to beat people in broad daylight. These guys had fire in their bellies, and couldn't wait to pounce on their victims. Vicksen released a dramatic sigh, pointing at the skirmishers.
"What's the meaning of this? Who did you offend this time?" He questioned Lores. The latter started, brows nethering. In reality, he could not actually recollect what offense he may have probably done previously that resulted in the nuisance ahead of him. Or had he unknowingly brought trouble to himself? His dealings with Prince Mo was smooth. Even if there were, supposedly, minor tiffs, this wasn't the prince's style of action at all. He mused for a good while, yet he found no base.
Certain of his clean slate, he threw back the question at Vicksen. Who knows? That one might be at fault.
"It's more suitable if I ask you that question." Vicksen scoffed.
"You're the one who's always causing trouble." He snapped back. Lores' eyes lit suddenly. He remained like that for half a beat, urging the bickering Vicksen to think that he must have known the cause.
"Tell me what you have done." He inquisitively requested.
"Or...did you snatch somebody's wife?" Vicksen gaped as Lores hit him with that statement. His forefinger pointed repeatedly at Lores, trying to squeeze out words.
"You...is that...is that what you think of me?" Lores clicked his tongue and placed a hand on Vicksen's shoulder.
"Don't be as serious as a judge. It's just an easy question that can be denied if you didn't do it. Or did you actually do it?" Vicksen fell into another round of wonder, bereft of speech.
Despite being in a discommoding situation, the two still had the time to bicker each other, like the whole event was child's play. Meanwhile, the guys who were sobering up for a wrestling match were left in a state of stupefaction. The person they were about to engage was not even batting an eyelid. He was busy chatting with mirth as if he wasn't really seeing them.
"Why don't we make things clear ourselves?" Lores suggested. Vicksen looked at him for a while before approaching the guys with Lores.
"To what do we owe this entertainment?" Vicksen quizzed, grinning as if he was conversing with pretty maidens. In the meantime, a crowd began to collect. People quickly perceived that the street would soon get lively.
"Get out of the way! You're not the one we are after!" One of them bellowed. Vicksen turned his head to Lores. The question marks stamped all over his face was almost visible. Two totally confused individuals was unable to interpret the funny, yet puzzling circumstance they found themselves in.
"Huh?! M...me?!" Lores stuttered, pointing at himself. "Are you sure that I'm the one you're after?" He laughed, shaking his head in resolute disbelief. "It can't be. You must have mistook me for someone else."
One of the guys snorted. His skin was sallow, cheeks fleshy, and Lores couldn't imagine how he managed to maintain his slim stature. Although he looked like a deficient person that was well suited for the job of beating up people for money.
"Our boss already made it clear to us. You're the one. You better not be pompous because no one is going to save you today." He bragged, pointing to a direction. Lores followed his finger to behold a nice carriage poised quietly on one side of the street. He had no idea of who bore resentment toward him that was hell bent on disgracing him on the street.
"Who's that?" Vicksen asked but Lores shook his head.
"Seems like I'm becoming popular here. Vicksen I don't have the energy to handle these money-grubbing touts." He faced them with a nonchalant smile. "If you can cruise pass him." He started, pointing at Vicksen. "Then you can beat me as you like. But if you can't, then you're not even qualified to run you mouths like talky parrots."
Lores shook their resolve, and they became disorganized. Stealing quick gazes at one another, they mumbled some curses under their breathe. However, they were unwilling to yield. The price attached to their assignment was probably ample - not something they could afford to lose.
"We'll...teach you a lesson today!" They were enraged, charging forward with their fists in the air. The few who got some rods swept ahead.
Lores stood behind Vicksen, enjoying the show. Sadly for them, they were not even up to the Vicksen's average level of combat. Handling them, to Vicksen, was like taking candy from a baby. Within seconds, they were all scattered on the floor, each either massaging or holding the areas they got it hard, groans blurting out.
Vicksen smugly dusted his hands. He'd done a neat job. The helpless people on the floor became a laughing stock to the viewers, mortification clouding them.
Lores jittered his head and went ahead to poke fun at them.
"You've let your boss down. Next time he won't even think of sending you on a mission. How can you be so incompetent?" He turned to the viewers and began to narrate, visage twisting into an expression of indignation. "Ladies and gentlemen, I was walking on my own with my friend. These thugs..." He paused to look at the persons downward, hand stretched in their direction. "They came from nowhere and tried to assault us. Thankfully, my friend here happened to be an exceptional combatant. Otherwise, they would have attacked innocent passers-by. What crime have we committed that have earned us this victimization?"
After hearing Lores' tale of woe, the onlookers were sweet-talked into siding with him. They began to gabble supportive utterances.
"Yes! They're wicked!"
"That serves them right!"
"It's justifiable that you taught them a lesson!"
The assaulters foamed, rage escalating. They got to their feet and charged once more, shouting noisily. A little girl yelled as she pointed with her tiny-as-straw finger.
"They're coming!" Lores chuckled and replied kindly.
"Oh dear, I know. I know. They are all here to beat me up." Vicksen was called upon and he happily got into action. Hauling at one like a sack of rice, he chucked them against others. They all collapsed like a building with a faulty foundation. He took care of them neatly again that his clothes did even suffer a single scratch.
"Do you want to die before you see the reward?" Lores was taken aback by their determination.
"Useless wretches! All of you put together can't even take one person down." An angry voice came from inside the carriage, drawing the attention of the crowd as it approached the scene. The window pushed open, and a young fellow revealed his face.
"Scram! Good-for-nothing set of mortals." The assaulters struggled to their feet and vamoosed arm in arm in the next second. Lores eyes shone, recognizing the familiar person. He brought his head close to Vicksen's ear.
"That person is a friend of mine. I didn't expect him to use this method to say hello to me." Without waiting for Vicksen to react, he strolled towards the carriage.
"Young Marquis, it's a pleasure to meet you again." Hancho eyed him. The annoying look Lores was wearing reminded him of the historic disgrace he was bathed with in the tavern.
"Shameless boy. You can't even fight for yourself." He grunted.
"Shameless?" Lores echoed as if he didn't understand the word. "If that's the case, then we are both shameless. You secretly sent some people to beat me which shows that you can't fight for yourself as well. If I end up fighting, wouldn't it be considered as cheating? We had people fight in our stead, and that makes the game fair and square."
Hancho glared daggers at the most annoying person he'd ever seen. Meanwhile, Lores was thoroughly callous. He kept rumbling on.
"Did you miss me so much that you've decided to treat me to a drink today? Fortunately, I am free. I have time to spare. Shall we head to the tavern?" Hancho's face reddened. He started regretting his own actions. Lores was more than he ever imagined. He was seemingly epiphanous that day in the tavern. And now, he had an able bodyguard.
"Get lost!" Lores gasped, darkening his expression.
"Don't be shy. You shouldn't have resorted to violence if you wanted to see me. Or else, these ones would think that we are a group of uncouth people. Aren't you scholarly? You should have known that."
Haven gotten enough of Lores' mockery, he shut the window with a bang. He commanded the carriage to move to spare himself from further embarrassment.
Lores displayed a smile, tasting the satisfaction of his deed.