TL: Etude
The man known as Quintus had the look of a brawler, an image that easily brought to Liszt’s mind associations with thugs and ruffians, yet it was hard to connect him with church personnel.
Quintus made no effort to hide his malice towards the “provocateur”. His burly body almost overshadowed Liszt. Encouraged by his companions, under the candlelight in the hall, he nacingly approached Liszt step by step, his formidable figure twisting.
The aggressor let out a ferocious laugh, “Co here, little ant, let Quintus teach you a lesson.”
Liszt stood bewildered in his place. To flee? At such close distance, it seed impossible.
Just as Quintus harshly grabbed his clothes, a loud shout ca from the entrance of the hall: “The guards are here, no one move recklessly!”
The sound drew everyone’s attention in the hall, and they turned their gaze towards the door.
Quintus, still holding Liszt, also paused and looked at the intruder, his face still arrogant.
A group of well-trained people wearing swords and armor rushed into the shop.
Behind the doorway of the hall, the half head of the innkeeper peeked out, timidly glancing at the situation inside, likely the one who had called the guards.
“I’ve received reports of trouble here, what’s happening?”
The one who spoke was a mber of the guards, wearing more intricate and finely detailed armor than the others, adorned with beautiful patterns, apparently the leader.
“It’s just the brothers from the guard!”
One of Quintus’ companions stepped forward, blocking the leader’s path.
He dropped his earlier spectator deanor and said with a laugh, “It’s a misunderstanding!”
“A misunderstanding?” questioned the captain of the guards, removing his helt to reveal a handso young face.
His eyes lingered on the overturned tables and shattered dishes and cups on the floor.
“This doesn’t look like a misunderstanding to !”
“I say!” Quintus, still clutching Liszt’s clothes, spoke up. “Gentlen of the guard, you are fulfilling your duties, and we are fulfilling ours. It’s best if we don’t interfere with each other…”
His companion, who was blocking the guards, kept giving him signals to stop talking, though he still had an air of defiance.
The captain of the guard said discontentedly, “What duty are you fulfilling? It looks like you’re just causing trouble!”
Liszt, controlled like a lamb, grasped at this lifeline in desperation, his Horn Bay dialect suddenly fluent: “This gentleman must uphold justice for us! These scoundrels are bullying people.”
“Do you see that poor lady? She really can’t drink anymore, but these scum are forcing her to drink, torturing her if she refuses.”
“In broad daylight, is this what people do? They should be thrown into the dungeon.”
Suddenly, a fist the size of a pot hit his stomach. Liszt, in pain, was rendered speechless, making a dry heaving sound.
The man blocking the guards put his arm around the captain’s shoulder in a familiar manner and said, “Captain, we’re all making a living in Fort Ness, it’s better for us to give each other so face.”
The young captain of the guards grabbed the arm on his shoulder and pulled it away, causing Quintus’ companion to almost fall.
Such disrespect? His brows furrowed.
“Captain, may I know your na?” Quintus’ companion asked with a malicious look, a serpent-like expression on his face.
“Queller! Queller Foster!”
Hisses and gasps of surprise echoed through the hall.
It turned out to be a mber of the Foster family, and so inford people whispered, “It’s the second young master of the Marquis Foster’s family.”
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