6. Disrespect

Silence unfolded In the feast's hall as those men struggled to properly grasp what Tristan had said.

The moment they did, however, all 8 men belonging to the Urtal family, stood up. Their hands arrived on their belted weapons.

"Is that a threat?" Den's tone fell low and dangerous. Lucia's heart shook at that sight, but she could only sit and watched helplessly.

"You can call it whatever. But I'd prefer you accepted my duel. I want to know how tough of a man you are," Tristan baited the noble-born ignoring Ior's protest in the background.

"Ior do something about this child. Lest you ruin the relationship between the Urtal family and your small town," the man that bore the greetings for that group spoke. Ged. His brown eyebrows creased showing just how much anger Tristan's words sparked.

Lord Ior heard Ged's words and felt his heart tremble In trepidation. All he worked for would be all for naught unless he did something.

Still, what could he do? Tristan could slay him in two movements. The young man was highly dangerous.

"There's no need for any preventive measures," Den's voice rang out, his tone that of annoyance. He left his chair to approach his soon-to-be opponent.

Tristan threatened to break into a cold smile but he maintained his peace and poker face.

The man was dancing into his palms.

"I've heard of your battle prowess. Everyone has. Yet, you're not the best. You're simply a boy who's had a lot of training time," Den snarled with disdain, arriving right before Tristan's figure. He was a bit shorter than the boy. That reality made him even more irritated.

"I too have studied the arts of battle and bested many my age. You're only young," the man concluded, speaking the truth. If only he knew more, he would never utter those words.

Yes, Den remained a man who had been given the best amongst the best of things from a young age. His family had made sure to give him proper fighting knowledge. Lest he wound up dead early in life.

"I am positive in my ability to render you useless in a fight. Calm down, young man. There's still too much going on in your body. I will forgive you based on the fact that you're still childish," Den placed his hand on Tristan's shoulder before approaching his seat.

Tristan remained silent after that show. That never meant he was okay with it. Lucia knew this and feared it greatly. It took all she could muster to stay seated.

"Well executed, young master. He's still a child, he doesn't understand the gravity of his actions," Lord Ior commended, properly bottling his fears. He would do anything to gain the favor of that family.

"Now sit, Tristan," the town's lord commanded. The young man refused, however. Stubborn as ever.

"I said sit, Tristan." Anger rose in the man's being, turning his face red. He threatened to lose face by exploding in his pent-up rage.

Or rather he got increasingly Infuriated since Tristan's blatant disobedience spoke of just how much his control over him was. It remained apparent that it amounted to nothing.

Remaining silent whilst he thought thoughts. Tristan felt strangely calm even at those words. He understood he was stubborn. He truly was and knew enough to know he didn't know enough.

He also understood that he stood at a critical point in his life as a growing man. His emotions were usually in disarray, but even amid that chaos stood a strange order.

"You've spoken well." He chose to utilize the eloquence he had been taught. He could speak their language more than most people and had been forced into decency by Lucia.

"But I smell fear," Tristan announced calmly, locking gazes with the young master.

"I've been in enough battles to know when my opponent feels apprehension towards me," he paused.

"I sense it from all of you," he slowly swept his gaze on those men. They all wore the same wine-colored robes, even if they were mere guards of the young master. The man that spoke with Lord Ior was Den's personal guard.

"Even you," Tristan revealed, focusing his gaze on Lord Ior. The man shook from seething rage, but he dared not approach the strangely calm young man.

"Sit, young man," Ged commanded through his teeth, but Tristan stood, unfazed.

He wouldn't verbally attack the man. He wasn't foolish. He had clear limits. Sure the man remained careful towards him; he still had a level of skill that would be considered troublesome.

The young master Den, on the other hand, would quickly be taken down. He moved to single out the young master and demolish him In a fight.

"Master Ged," Den stood, eyes dark and demeanor that of intense irritation.

"You won't fight," Ged countered before Den could speak. But even he knew he couldn't hold him back. Tristan felt dangerous even to him.

"I'll do what I want," Den left his chair again, approaching Tristan's tall figure. He had no weapon on him, but he hadn't announced his decision to fight just yet.

"Do you know who we are, Tristan?" Den asked glaring at the young man before him. A few of his friends had been in the same places with him and had given testimony of his annoying attitude. Den finally understood them.

"Yes. You're Den of the Urtal family," Tristan replied nonchalantly and Lord Ior almost choked on his shock. The guards gasped and even Lucia almost stood.

Den's eyes turned darker, how ever that was possible. He nodded a few times before his lips curved into a cold smile. One that radiated vexation.

"I am the third son of the Urtal family. Even so, my brothers have been my backers. Amongst the higher echelons, I interact with the royals. Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"You've won a few fights so what?—" Den was cut short.

"Seventy-four actually," Tristan mentioned. "Soon to be seventy-five." His words put an unbelieving smile on Den's face. He turned to glance at his men, lord Ior, then at Lucia.

"Or do you fancy her for youself?" An eyebrow rose on the young master's face amplified by his mocking smile.

Tristan's expression contorted in repulsion the moment he finally understood what the man was implying. He had never thought that way about Lucia. She was the sister he never had. The thought of being intimate made him feel weird. He didn't like it.

Needless to say, his instinctive but evident reaction had not only wiped the smugness off Den's face but put surprise on all their faces. Lucia adopted a blank expression, however.

"Do you accept my challenge or not? I won't go back on either of my words," Tristan explained still recovering from the man's suggestion.

The mood dropped once again and the air within the room turned stale. Den was reminded of the disrespect the young man had shown him. His hurt ego fueled his imagination and although he felt cautious towards Tristan, he told himself he could win, so long as he didn't hold back.

"You've crossed the line. I accept," Den announced.

A cruel expression unfolded on Tristan's face at that point, and with a series of fluid movements his left hand unsheathed his blade, and he swung his sword twice to detach the arms of the young master before him.