A group of men hurriedly marched through the streets carrying giant bags that shook and rattled. Two men forming the rear held an unconscious man in dazzlingly emerald armor. The scene looked like a funeral being held for a wealthy noble. The villagers all watched with great interest, but some glares from an old gruffled guard forced them to turn away and ignore the matter for now.

The mood was much like an army marching home from a costly battle as if they gained nothing but a shameful defeat. Coupled with an untold humiliation etched on their faces. Everyone knew something big had happened. 

Once the guards reached Boris's castle, a drawbridge was slowly lowered, and guards from within poured out to carry the injured man away.

On the other side of the bridge was Alfred, who patiently waited for all the men to cross over. Pulling the old guard to the side, Alfred's composure showed patience. His tone, however, held irritation, “Mr.Johnson, would you mind telling me what happened here?”

Johnson, the old guard, had fear in his eyes, not daring to meet Alfred's gaze, “Sir, we went to arrest the barkeep as ordered, sir.”

Alfred nodded his head slowly. Speaking in a drawl, he seethed, “Yes, I know why you left. What I wish to know is why you have returned in such disarray. Why is the boy injured? Where is the barkeep? And what you have to say for yourself.” 

Johnson swallowed, but the saliva did little to wet his throat, “We ran into some troublemakers, but as you can see, we have returned with the fine in full.” With a half-smile on his face, Johnson opened one of the bags showing Alfred the gold coins. 

Alfred slapped the gold out of Johnson’s hands. For a second, his calm demeanor disappeared, striking fear into the heart of Johnson. The smell of blood leaked out of Alfred's pores, making Johnson nauseous.

Taking a deep breath that sucked the bloody stench back in, Alfred straightened his hair with a comb. His icy voice remonstrated, “The gold is irrelevant. Our lord has near-unlimited resources. That fine was just a random number could be 800, or it could be 8000. What is important is that the barkeep is taken into custody, which you have failed so miserably to do.”

Johnson sweated profusely, stammering as his voice lost strength, “I don’t see what’s so important about such a lowly individual. He was harmless. If not for those troublemakers, we would have brought him here with ease and efficiency.”

Alfred signaled with his off-hand for the drawbridge to be raised. Once the view was obstructed, Alfred's stance relaxed, “Yes, he is quite harmless, and even more so, he is a lowly individual. Which is all the more reason you needed to bring him in for execution. He had the gall to attack a knight who works for lord Boris. That in turn is an attack against lord Boris himself, no?” 

Johnson tried to say yes, but Alfred continued, not waiting for such an obvious reply. “So the only option when someone attacks our lord is an immediate and strong response. To make sure others are not foolish enough to make the same mistake. We were lucky that the knight he attacked was the boy, and even luckier that the attacker was so weak. But what if the attacker was not so weak, and the person who was attacked was not the boy?” Alfred began examining Johnson’s uniform, sending a shiver down Johnson's spine.

Johnson opened his mouth to speak or perhaps apologize, or maybe sputter more excuses.

Alfred did not care which it was. Once again, he continued without allowing Johnson to respond. “What shall we do? Shall we wait for that hypothetical to become a reality? Or shall we take measures to prevent it?” With a click of his tongue, Alfred began tidying the uniform of Johnson brushing away the dust. 

Johnson, who had lost all the color in his face, remained silent. 

Alfred paused from the tidying and locked eyes with Johnson, “Do you believe me to be thinking to myself out loud? Respond!” 

Johnson was surprised to hear this, “Well, uhm…”

Alfred once again cut him off, “The answer is we take action against the small threats. So those who are big threats think twice before doing it. Unfortunately, it appears to be a tad too late.” Finally, Johnson’s uniform was proper and presentable. “Mr.Johnson, you may believe that with our lord being ill and in a deep slumber, you are not held to his standards.” Again Alfred looked Johnson in the eyes.

Johnson expected to be cut off first, prepared to say no, but noticing he was not being interrupted, decided to speak freely, “No... I believe we have the same standards with or without our lord’s supervision.” 

Alfred shook his head, unsatisfied with such a mediocre response jabbing Johnson’s chest with his fist, Alfred spat, “You would believe wrong. My standards are that of perfection. Lord Boris may forgive your failings, but even one mistake to me could mean death. So why should you not be held to the same principle?” The jab was so quick and controlled that Johnson died before even understanding what had happened. His uniform did not even shift. 

Alfred motioned towards the gate guards, “Prepare a proper burial for Mr.Johnson. Make sure he remains presentable for his family.” Alfred turned his head back inside but stopped momentarily. “One more thing, be sure his widow receives a bag of gold, for the commemoration of his long service to our lord.”

The guards saluted. 

One left to procure a stretcher. 

With sweat running down his forehead, the other guard picked up the dropped bag and raked the gold back into it. A bit of greed flashed in his eyes as the bag's girth was weighed by his hand. “All of it, my lord?”

Alfred smiled at the greed-stricken guard like a beast eyeing its next prey, “Would you prefer an answer, or should I act like you did not ask such an obvious question.” Not waiting for a response, Alfred returned back inside the castle. He walked slowly, and with purpose, his tempo completely unaffected by the murder he just committed. 

In the castle, the guards piled up all the remaining bags of gold in one spot before returning to their previous duties. 

Alfred strolled towards Clarence’s room.

Inside the room, Clarence was resting in his bed. All his armor had been removed by the maids. Beside the bed sat a bowl of water, a blood-soaked rag floated within. Next to the bowl was an expensive chair that had been moved by the caretaker.

Alfred inspected Clarence’s body taking note of the bruises on his face from impact. Studying them, Alfred surmised the hit came from a weapon, not fists. Now, who could have the strength to beat you so badly, boy? If you can’t stop a random warrior, how could you even dream of defeating that demihuman? 

Outside, the sound of something being dragged could be heard approaching the door. Two guards roughly dragged the doctor into the room. Upon seeing Alfred, they froze, released the doctor, then saluted.

Alfred stopped inspecting Clarence. Placing his hands behind his back, Alfred stared lazily at the two guards, “Is there a reason you took the good doctor from our lord’s side?”

Neither guard wished to reply. It had become common knowledge that the butler Alfred did not ask questions for a response. He asked them so that person could reflect on where they went wrong in life. So that they may fix it in the next.

The doctor pushed his glasses up, smiling, he interjected, “I am here to look at the injuries Senior Knight Clarence received. Worry not, our lord is resting well, and I will return to his side shortly. Do not punish these men, for they are only worried about a friend.”  

Alfred did not say a word but continued looking at the two guards, his eyes shifted lazily between the two as if choosing which one he shall dispose of first. 

The doctor clapped loudly, focusing attention on himself. Turning towards the two guards, he patted their shoulders, “Thank you, gentlemen, for showing me to my patient. You may return to your duties.”

The guards nodded briefly at the doctor, regretting how rough they were with him. Releasing their salutes, they scurried from the room. 

Silence filled the room as Alfred watched the doctor, and the doctor checked on Clarence’s condition. The doctor worked his way from the head down. Checking for bruises and under the skin hemorrhages. After doing a thorough check, the doctor removed a small vial from his bag and placed it under Clarence’s nose. 

After a few moments, Clarence stirred about in the bed. Groggily he opened his eyes, looking around in a daze. “What happened?" Clarence held his throbbing head. He was no longer in the tavern with his troops but surrounded by the quack doctor and the creepy old man instead.

The doctor checked Clarence's eyes and, after murmuring to himself, congratulated, “He should be fine. I don’t believe the hit caused a concussion. After some rest, you should be good as new.” Having finished his business, the doctor bowed to Clarence and Alfred and then returned to his previous patient.

Alfred nodded at the doctor. Once the doctor left, Alfred sat to the right of Clarence, becoming relaxed, no longer stoic, “I would also like to know what happened, boy. You were sent on such a simple and easy task but figured out how to fail it nonetheless. So, what happened, and where did it go wrong? Was it when you allowed yourself to be attacked by a demihuman and failed to protect our lord. Was it when you allowed yourself to be attacked by a helpless barkeep. Or was it when Boris took you under his wing?”

The normally arrogant Clarence could only silently listen to the sarcasm flowing from Alfred’s mouth as he had no excuses for such a blunder. 

Alfred did not let up, “I will tell you what has obviously happened. You have once again failed to complete your task. What is so senior about you? I mean, you have not been working here the longest. That accomplishment goes to the recently deceased Johnson. It is not your seniority in completing a task. You are young, so your age is not senior to most of the men working here. So why do you have such an unbefitting rank?”

Clarence remained silent but hearing someone died, Clarence gawked at Alfred in disbelief, “What Johnson died? How? I doubt the snake devil would kill him.” 

A smacking noise rang. Alfred’s white-gloved hand retracted from Clarence’s face. With utter disappointment on his face, Alfred hissed, “Did you hear the stupidity that escaped your lips? A devil not willing to kill his enemies, what world are you acquainted with? To think you would rely on the kindness of your enemies. He is dead, and not only that, the responsibility of his death falls on your shoulders. You have such lofty aspirations yet lack the skill to even keep your own men alive.”

Instead of being angry from Alfred's relentless talk or being smacked in the face, Clarence was dismayed. Clarence was raised to believe the average citizen was beneath a noble like himself. But when it came to his men, if nothing else, they were his pawns. He cherished each pawn, for they were his. “This failing is one I accept and promise to Zeyana to rectify. You are correct. I underestimated my foe and did not take his threat seriously enough. But I will not make the same mistake twice.” A strong aura surged through Clarence’s body. His poisonous blood boiled. The injury on his head sizzled, closing the wound entirely.

Alfred faintly smiled, but it quickly disappeared, replaced with his usual lazy look instead. “Good, we need to perfectly reply to this insult. I hate to admit, but it seems that the demihuman returned quicker than I thought. Only a week’s time has passed, and he is already banging at our gates.”

Pulling himself out of bed, Clarence dazedly reached for his spear, “I will go challenge that vermin and show him the true power I have attained. Be it hell or heaven, I shall send this demon's head to Johnson so that he may rest in peace.” 

Alfred looked lazily at the hot-blooded youth. The haze in Alfred’s eyes disappeared, becoming more and more focused. “Do not be so rash, boy. I know you wish to have your revenge, and it is indeed something you must attain. But you lack the strength to defeat him, and from what I gathered, he has not returned alone. Sit, let us discuss what happened and plan for the future. Only then will your revenge come into fruition.”

Seeing the focus in Alferd’s eyes, Clarence reluctantly sat back down and calmed himself. Once calm, he retold everything that happened up until him getting injured. 

Alfred was silent for a second before clapping, “Wow. Boy, I’m not usually surprised, but your tendency to underestimate others is so high even I am rendered a bit speechless. Is this the famous noble temperament you young city-state nobles are all known for? Even the king, in his youth, would not be so foolish to equate someone not being human to being weak. In actuality, he would be astute enough to understand it is usually nonhumans who turn out to be the strongest.”

Clarence was aghast to hear such a claim, “So are you saying we humans are weak by nature?”

Alfred rolled his eyes, “No, what I’m saying is what we humans lack in brute strength, we make up for in wit.”

Clarence nodded his head in understanding, “So what should we do? Lord Boris is still unconscious, and if they have returned looking for revenge, it would be difficult to defend with our current forces.”

 

Alfred chuckled lazily, “I wouldn’t call it difficult, more like troublesome. I will have some men keep an eye on their movements. In the meantime, we will send word out to the nearby nobles. Then amass a force of their strongest warriors and our own, to kill it, or at the very least drive the filth out of the kingdom.”

Clarence thought it over, but a frown grew on his forehead, “I thought Boris ordered us to capture the devil alive. If he leaves, won’t we be unable to capture him?”

Alfred leaned back in his chair, “We will drive him to that wretched cave, then either starve him out or crush him under a tidal wave of overwhelming numbers. Lord Boris just wants the body. We'll bring back what's left.”

Clarence smiled, already envisioning the great human expedition like the ones of old. Such an event would bring great prestige to the organizers and the force's general. “Good, good. I will organize a group of guards immediately to send word to the neighboring nobles. What about the adventurers, shall we inform them of his return?”

Alfred shook his head, revealing, “No, I’m sure that demihuman will either come here or the adventurer’s guild first. I hear that Requis’s visit was not so appreciated. Besides, to fool an enemy, you must first fool your friends. Only the two of us will know of this plan. Thus it will be quite unlikely that it gets leaked beforehand. For each of the guards, give them a sealed note to be delivered, nothing word of mouth.” 

The giddy Clarence jumped from his bed, heading towards the door. Hesitantly he paused before asking the most crucial question, “And who shall lead this coalition into battle?”

Alfred yawned as he stood from his seat, “Don’t ask such an obvious question when you already know the answer.”

Clarence smiled ear to ear at Alfred, almost wanting to give the old man a kiss on the forehead. Ripping his door off the hinges, Clarence rushed off to prepare his men.

Alfred lazily walked out of the doorless room, muttering as he watched the excited youth. “You will lead in the light, and I will lead in the shadows. Someone has to clean up your mess, and I just so happened to be free.”