NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter-171 Face to Face
Kiev’s breakthrough sparked the flames, and all hell broke loose.
The slaves led the chaos, their snapped collars hanging on in vain, and the church Paladins backed them up. Rivers of blood streamed out of every household that owned a slave, with the traders bearing the brunt, their chopped heads piked up high on display. The men who opposed the Ensils walked with the slaves, killing their neighbors with a different opinion, hoisting the moral flag of freedom. Houses crumbled, the venues collapsed, the streets were up in flames, and the city screamed. Yet again, mayhem dawned on Drarith.
By the time Ewan handled the five slaves in his yard and left Kidd to take care of Stefan, the havoc had reached his doorsteps. When he hovered out of the protective fog, the men with the swords rushed at him with a war cry. They were the Kyrons who’d caught up with the Step-0 Severynths by a nose, barely posing any threat to them, let alone a Step-1 Severynth.
Ewan stilled them with his vast Ryvia and looked around the forest, and the advancement of his instinct showed him a new world. Traces of amalgamated ashen-gray Ryvia floated about, some weak and sparse, some catching up with his own, a few surpassing it, while the last one weighed down, thick and viscous. The threat it posed sent shivers down his spine, and his intuition blared the alarm bells. It needed no introduction, for its pressure announced its owner—it was the Governor.
“Kiddo, come over, let’s talk.” The Governor’s voice reached him. “The others will deal with the mess.”
“Yes, sir.” Ewan complied and flew towards the Ensil’s villa after snapping the Paladins’ necks.
…..
He was an old man, age spots masking his face, flappy skin drooping by the bones, cloudy eyes that stared into space, and he smelled of death. Ewan bowed when the maids showed him to the open hall and sat on the wooden floor across the table when the Governor gestured him, glancing at the fishing rod by his side whose line sank into the floor—this was the source of the bizarre sight in the cave.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” the Governor said, pouring a glass of steaming water for Ewan and sliding the glass over with shaky hands. “I like sitting on the floor, it gives me a feeling of stability.”
“It’s no problem, sir,” Ewan said and took the glass, adjusting his posture on the spongy cushion. The two open sides of the hall staired down to the garden, rays of late morning sunlight cascading in with the serene notes of a creek humming in the background and the soft flavor of wisteria drifting in the wind—the contrasting quiet and the peace inside created a separate world from the frenzied city.
“You did good, you succeeded on your first try,” the Governor said. “Congratulations on taking your first step.”
“Luck played its role, I barely succeeded,” Ewan said, lowering his eyes.
The old man smiled, his wrinkled skin stretching. “Humility should come from here.” He poked his heart. “Hiding arrogance in the bone and only wearing a skin of humility might stumble you one day, you should look at your surroundings more, hear what others have to say.”
Ewan’s heart skipped a beat, and the pride that treading those ten torturous steps built for him cracked. The man was a bundle of wisdom stacked over the years, and regardless of their conflicting positions, he dared not brush his words aside—he respected the awe the Governor deserved.
“I’ll keep it in mind, sir.”
“How was the recovery? Do you need some rest?” the Governor asked.
“I took the Ocean Song potion too; it healed the rest of the damage. I’m just a bit fatigued.”
“Good. You have some talent in Potioneering, keep honing it. A skill like that can support you for your whole life.”
“I will.”
“How about the spells? Have you learned any for Step-1?”
“I have a couple of spells I can cast for now. I have the illusion spell ready too.”
“We’ll get to that later, it’s more important for you to have some security. You’re not a Kyron anymore, your enemies won't be Kyrons either,” the Governor said. “Kiev must’ve mentioned it before. Here, I prepared these for you, consider them congratulatory and first meeting gifts.”
He gestured, and with the distorted air, an onyx-shaded overcoat, neatly folded, and a beige wooden staff with a bulged head appeared on the table.
“I won't go into their details, you can explore them yourself later, but they should be enough to ride you through your weak period,” he said. “They can be useful to you down the road too.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve them, sir,” Ewan said. “I can't accept such heavy gifts for nothing, they’ll weigh on me.” And more so, their source worried him. Even if he was a Step-1 Severynth now, the gulf between their levels deemed him ineligible to fight against the old man—neither upfront nor in shady means. If these items carried the Governor’s schemes, he couldn’t resist.
“Did you not like them? I saw you preferred spells in your fights, and you lacked mobility, that’s why I had them custom made for you,” the Governor said. “It’s an old tradition of Ashocan for the elders to gift the young ones on special occasions. Did I overstep my boundaries? Forgive me, at my age, emotions tend to get the better of me.”
“I didn’t mean that…” Ewan stared into the Governor’s murky eyes, then left a silent sigh in the quietude of his heart—with one counter, he had lost the initiative. “I’m sorry, I was thoughtless. Thank you, sir, for the gifts. I really like them.”
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