4. Angry Monster

Heaving a deep sigh as he stood to collect his strength, Tristan's blank gaze fell on the world around him.

He took note of the state of the environment. The sun had almost completely set, casting golden-orange light on the world before him.

His eyes gazed at the distant trees and even the town's walls. He grit his teeth in annoyance.

After about 5 hours of venting, he calmed down and saw the wrong in his decision. He would attend the feast but would fail to heed Lucia's warning.

Nevertheless, he had come to a simple conclusion. Depending on how her husband-to-be acted; he would either cause a ruckus or painstakingly accept the man.

The town of Medrial although now far more developed than in the past was still a topic of mockery amongst the other town lords.

For this reason, Tristan had given up on whatever had to do with raising its status until the kingdom's mighty and affluent men considered them equals.

He hated that his life had started there, but he wasn't one to dwell on the past. He had arrogant features but was pretty level-headed. At least sometimes.

Tristan clicked his tongue, placing his sword in its sheath still strapped to his back. His attire was now severely stained.

When he arrived at the mansion he would get a change of clothes.

With his pride swallowed and even a tinge of regret, Tristan began his cautious journey down the cliff.

Thankfully he didn't roll off like earlier that day. Still, his cautious movements took him over 10 minutes, and the walk towards the city, although hurried, took a bit more time than anticipated.

By the time Tristan arrived at the town's wall, the sun had set completely and the moon slowly revealed its silvery radiance to the world below.

Tristan hurried down the dark, cold, and windy streets of Medrial. Torches would soon be lit, but he wouldn't be there to witness those events.

Many noticed his passage, but only some still showed him kind gestures. Unfortunately, Tristan didn't see them. All his focus stood on arriving at the mansion quickly.

His pace remained quick, and he suddenly felt anxious. The reality of his best friend's situation saddened him now that he allowed himself to feel that emotion.

A heavy mood tried to befall Tristan again, but he knew it would only result in anger. For the first time in a while, he pushed that specific emotion to retain his clear mind. Or so he thought.

Tristan eventually arrived before the mansion's gate, and his heart skipped a beat when his gaze fell on three bronze carriages.

They all looked luxurious and expensive.

'Am I too late already?' He cursed himself at that mere thought. He didn't want to let Lucia down, she would be alone.

'How can I call myself her friend!' His critical words to himself left deep cuts.

Memories flowed into his clear mind and he felt guilt. Truthfully speaking, Lucia deserved none of what life gave her.

"Young master Tristan!" One of the guards exclaimed stunned at the time he was returning. And that he was even returning at all!

There had been times when Tristan would remain outside of the mansion's walls all night.

They opened the gate before he could reply to them, however. His glare remained too intense for men twice his age.

Tristan stormed down the stone path through the garden and into the mansion.

The first detail he noticed was the sudden serenity. Those highly placed visitors had caused the entire building to fall silent.

Tristan knew where the feast would take place, so he wasn't worried about being heard.

"Hey, you," he called out to one of the three maids he encountered. All three flinched and almost jumped at the event.

They only managed to irritate him. Fortunately, for the sake of the urgency of his situation, he let go of his annoyance to give them clear orders.

"Prepare an attire for me. I will go into my bathhouse. My clothes must be ready before I'm out." He commanded, storming past them in search of his room.

Tristan walked down a few corridors to arrive at the orange door that led into his room.

With rushed fluidity, he took off his clothes and hurried into the bath to rinse himself clean of sweat and dust.

This barely took him five minutes, but when he returned to his room he found another two-piece attire and a new pair of boots ready.

Tristan donned the orange shirt and jet-black trousers and black boots. He strapped his sword to his back and rushed for the feast hall.

Upon arriving there, his eyes fell on a pair of big black doors with orange patterns painted on their surface.

Those weren't the only details, however. He laid eyes on three men guarding the entrance.

Their crimson attires didn't belong to the town's lord guards, so Tristan could immediately guess they were with the visitors.

Due to his fame spreading far and wide, the moment his masculine features entered the sights of the mid-thirties men their gazes sharpened.

Tristan arrived before the trio. His dark eyes rapidly inspected them and he didn't hesitate to make eye contact.

"I'm here for the feast," he stated, irritated.

The trio furrowed their brows almost in unison. They had no real problem with him entering. Only one issue.

"Your sword. It'll have to remain outside." the man at the forefront announced and Tristan's eyebrows creased dangerously.

"Are you denying me entrance into a place I live in?" His tone dropped until it scrapped the floor in terms of coldness.

His slow glares sent chills down the spines of those men. They had heard of men who fell victim to the young man. But the intensity of the anger in his glare shook their hearts.

Tristan felt like a rabid beast In human skin. He exuded a far-too-obvious intent to attack. And indeed that wouldn't be exactly far from the truth.

"I... it's an order by the young master's personal guard," the man tried to explain his reason, but something within him told him he would not get through to the young man anyway.

"There's a reason I always carry this sword around," Tristan revealed, placing his left hand on the black and silver hilt of his sword, generating a clinking sound.

His simple gesture sent waves of danger through the minds of the guards. They too stretched their hands toward their hips. Where their swords lay.

"It seems I'll have to show you the reason for that decision," Tristan's dark eyes fell blank. Calculations appeared in his mind. Several simulations on how best he could defeat his opponents-to-be filled his mind, but he would need them to act first.

The mere moments of silence felt deafening to those men. The hair on their bodies stood as the tension was far too great a deal.

The feature that made Tristan a combat genius came into play and the very air around him seemed to give testimony to it.

Exhaling slowly, Tristan remained ready to draw his sword and detach the limbs of the men before him, when a voice boomed forth in the world around him.

"Let him pass," Sestien's voice echoed in the mansion's corridors.

The event eased the pent-up tension, but Tristan refused to let go of his sword. His dark cold eyes also put primal fear in the minds of those guards. They had managed to witness a few of his battles. He wasn't normal.

"But the master said to–" The man was cut short by Sestien's words.

"If you want to live to serve the master you better do as I say." His tone spoke of complete honesty but also command. He knew what that angry monster could do. He had seen it too many times, after all.

Struggle appeared on their faces. The situation remained too conflicting, especially with Tristan's boiling hostility.

"Tristan. You do not want to hurt lady Lucia, would you? Stand down," the head butler spoke, drawing nearer to the tense men.

Only then did Tristan make any real response. His eyes regained their vigor and he let go of his sword to shoot glares at those men. He would remember their faces.

Seeing that he listened, the others could only let go of their weapons too, calming down a bit.

How could a person far younger than they were, possess such intensity?

Tristan stepped forward and they did not get in his way. At that point, he nodded at Sestien who nodded In return.

Placing his hand on the big doors, he pushed at them and watched them part ways with relative ease.

Mechanisms to allow humans easily push those chunks of metals were in place.

The sound of the doors parting filled the room and the hallways.

A relatively plain silver room unfolded in Tristan's eyes, and his gaze instantly swept the long table to make eye contact with a dazzling Lucia.

He felt the gazes of ten others land on his figure but still strode into the room with bold steps.