"What happened here?" The man's face scans the surroundings as the sun tries to reflect off his rusted armour but fails as only Slov's crest is visible.
His eyes picking up on a wailing Isan in the mud.
"Wait… I-Isan?! W-What happened?" The man gaping at him as he forwards a bit of his hand forward but stops it.
"Blood…" He looks at the mud, tracing it all the way back to Jorel's clothes.
"You…Y-You did this hand…D-Didn't you…" The man recoils back, gripping his fist and removes his sword.
"Till we figure out what happened, you're not going anywhere!" He louds his mouth as he points the sword at Jorel.
"And what makes you say that?" Jorel says as his cape subtely dances in the breeze.
That same crest on his armour…is he some sort of authority here?
Jorel's eyes focusing on the man's chestplate.
"Nhnn…Come with us! Or we'll use force!" The other guard gritting his teeth.
"Who do you think you…" His gaze shifting downwards to Jorel's shirt.
T-That symbol…
The other guard trembles.
"W-Wait…I don't think…"He taps the man on his arm.
"What?!" The man shouts.
"H-He's the… the…" The other guard stutters.
Other peasants coming in, passing the guards and Jorel, walking to meet Isan.
"Quick! Get him to the healer!" One peasant says.
"He's losing blood!" The other one adds.
They all come in and lift him up, the blood from his hand still dripping as his eyes are watery.
Good I don't want to see his dirty face ever again!
Isan, with his drooping eyelids glares at Jorel before passing besides him.
"Hey!" The man snaps his fingers.
"N-No…" The other guard tugs his arm.
"Come on, just spit it out already!" He raises his voice at the other guard.
"Hmm…" The other guard squirms his lips.
"H-He's the nobleman—the one from the Ujochi clan that came earlier today." He squeals.
"W-What?" The man's raised voice fades.
"Look at the symbols on his shirt—that's the Ujochi clan's insignia." The other guard points, slowing backing away.
"H-How are you so sure?" The man asks as his face gradually turns white.
"He was confirmed to be one by the Kumigara himself!"
"Didn't you hear?!" The other guard shakes his head with his feet quivering.
"..." The man just stares at the other guard, his hand's grip on his sword, loosening.
"I-I'm not dealing with this!"
The other guard turns away with his back facing them and runs off within two bats of an eyelid as his poorly made sword dropping off his waist.
"N-No…" The guard stutters under his breath, his sight locked on the other one running away.
His teeth closed shut, his body trembling, slowly turning his head back towards Jorel.
Jorel staring at him with one of his brows raised, his arm still gripping my sword's hilt as he gleens his teeth.
"I'm deeply sorry sir! Please forgive my rudeness!" He sobs and drops before him.
"Please don't cut off my hand like Isan!" He cries.
Cut off his hand? Heh!
I don't even want to use a top tier weapon like my blade on them—It'll be a waste.
Using it on Isan was even a mistake!
Jorel looking at the man below, relaxing his head and letting out a little bit of air as he raises his hand.
"Just go." He waves his hand, shooing him off.
The man raising his head up, his cheeks already damp with tears as a smile grows on his face.
He gets up from the mud, his body still vibrating and his eyes not being able to look at Jorel.
"Thank you sir!" He bows and turns around and runs, picking up the other guard's sword in the mud along the way.
Do this people truly do not have a little bit of pride?
The other peasants all still looking at Jorel—although few. They all move back as he glances at them, the children hugging their parents even tighter.
*Nneiighh!!* *Nneiighhh!!*
Horses plop in the mud towards Jorel's direction, their breathing loud but not as loud as the clanking of another heavy object.
Could it be…
…That was quick…
A carriage tied behind horses draw closer, spotting a dirtied white along its body, the wheels chipped along the edges.
The people on the horses—stagecoaches wearing the same rusted and dented armour but less than the guards. One of them comes of their horse.
He looks around as his eyes meet Jorel, seeing his purple short with the Ujochi's clan's mark.
Must be him…right?
He walks towards Jorel, each foot raising above the mud as the sparce armour on his body creaks.
"I'm deeply sorry for keeping you waiting sir!" He bows with one hand off to the side.
"Dorl sent you I presume?" Jorel relaxes his hand from his swords hilt.
"Yes sir." He nods his head.
"He also said I should deliver a message to you." He bows slightly once more.
"He says that he apologizes for not coming back, that something urgent came up…" The stagecoach says sternly all while never looking Jorel in the eye.
Hmm… probably with Isan…
Even better that he didn't come!
I hope the blood loss affects Isan!
Then without wasting another moment, Jorel passes the stagecoach and goes to the carriage's door.
The handles feeling like it can fall off at any moment, he turns them downwards with little effort, entering inside.
Although it looks subpar—The roof corroded, the seats patched with cloth and a tiny spec of cobwebs in the corner. The inside still seems to have been recently cleaned.
There's even enough room for Jorel to store his gear—If he had them.
But this is better than that stupid horse and how defiant it was.
I really just want to go back home—To leave Slov.
He swallows his spit and sits, the stagecoach closes the door behind him shut. The chairs, feeling loose and its insides, sparce.
"Hyaaahh!" The stagecoaches outside shout as the sound of the familiar flickering of reins echoes.
The carriage dredging in the mud at a snail's pace. But it was enough for Jorel to still look at the town through the stained window—A complete sore in his eye!
The hushed whispers and fearful glances of the peasants outside penetrating the hollowed wood.
Jorel's body, moving along with the bumps on the road and feeling the thick mud vibrations on his behind.
His eyelids slowly about to meet each other as he has a feeling of a curse being carried off by angels into the clouds.
—The end of chapter 11—