Will of the Battlefield

Chapter 83: Same Old Thane

The hall had not yet recovered from the revelation, the man who entered, his casual attitude, and Thane’s background.

The background he hid completely, only joining with his name and nothing else, to prove himself and make a name for himself.

Though he personally was unaware of any of it, it was still the case. Or so thought the majority of people attending the current selection.

The man who entered didn’t just have a jarring, nearly incomprehensible speech with his son; he also decided he would act like he had not seen who actually did that.

"My son tells me someone wishes to imprison him... I would very much like to know who."

His words weren’t just a casual attitude, but a direct threat to the man who overstepped his boundaries against his son.

Count Thomas Ironforge. The name alone carried weight, even if he didn’t speak a single word.

For the nobles, it was the name of a troublesome, or rather, unhinged lord who happened to be ruling the entire northern region from east to west alone.

A man of a clan that’s deeply rooted in the history of the nation and the crown since it was ever named.

Though, unlike nobles, those of the military knew the name of the heroic blacksmith who created the best weapons humans could ever have; each is a priceless masterpiece.

For common folk, he was a legend. A noble who treated his lowborn people as he treats his own family. A region of land that doesn’t know nobility unless he, himself, the count, happened to step outside his region.

Only for the people outside his region, he stood as an untouchable count.

A lord who, regardless of their blessed rank, must properly be treated with utmost caution.

As for the young aspirants gathered inside the hall, the children of peasants and common men, it was something altogether different.

It meant that the giant they had laughed with, mocked, envied, cheered for, and fought beside was no lowborn youth at all.

He was nobility. Worse, he was the son of one of the most powerful men in Bentram. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

While Thomas stood still, waiting for an answer, Thane found himself bored of standing aimlessly now that his pops was doing the talking.

He turned around and started casually strolling back to his friends with his hands in his pockets.

He wanted to find Max as well, since he was the only one he couldn’t see... he looked around for a while, but ended up with his hand scratching the back of his head.

With no other choice, he walked to his seat, where others were more or less mummified at this point.

Conor Fury, especially, was frozen in place, no different from a statue. His eyes darted back and forth between Thane and Thomas.

He forced his mouth open, but failed to let a single word out.

He closed it, swallowed hard to moisturize his dry throat, then opened it again. "You’re... a count’s son?"

Thane smiled. "Yes, I’m the youngest." He nodded.

Conor nearly pulled his hair. "You never mentioned it." He couldn’t believe it.

Thane lurched his shoulders. "You never asked."

Thane rested his heavy body back on his seat. "I wanted to pass as Thane, not the youngest of Ironforge," he added, explaining it to the best of his ability.

Conor simply stared, as if whatever Thane said now didn’t echo in his ears anymore. He remembered every meal and conversation.

Every foolish remark Thane had made. The giant had spoken with everyone casually, as an equal.

He shared food, joked, slept, and fought. But never once had he boasted; never once had he hidden behind status.

He accepted being belittled by the nobles of other nations without his eyelids twitching once, nor did he demand respect for his affiliation or status.

Conor suddenly felt embarrassed. He had treated Thane like an unusually strong village idiot.

He had called him brother-in-arms.

He had even smacked the giant on the shoulder several times.

Gods.

He had smacked the heir of Borderstone County. Yet strangely, rather than fear, another emotion won.

Conor felt relieved; his heart was at ease.

The giant truly had considered him a friend. Otherwise, such informality would never have been tolerated.

Conor found himself smiling. Of course, only Thane could forget to mention something so absurdly important.

Sky’s emotions were considerably more complicated. The girl felt her heart sink.

Count’s son. The words echoed inside her mind.

She came from a merchant family. Her life was comfortable, but it didn’t have the significance or high status of the nation.

Nobles and merchants inhabited different worlds. She thought back to all the times she had scolded Thane.

Insulted him. Teased him with flirty signs. Had she lost her mind?

But then she remembered the giant always said he would hit her, but he never did.

Encouraging defeated candidates. Helping strangers.

Celebrating her victories more enthusiastically than his own.

A small smile touched her lips. No. Thane was still the same one they knew for that short while, through hardship. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Just richer, far richer than they thought.

Rimon, however, looked positively terrified. His face had turned pale.

The timid youth looked as though he wished to sink beneath the floor.

He came from a lower noble family, simple folks with honorary noble titles; they didn’t hold power or authority of reign.

Just an insignificant group who tried too hard to achieve nobility but achieved so little.

His father had never even spoken to anyone above the rank of Baron. And yet, Rimon had spent weeks sleeping beside a count’s son.

Ironforge, at that.

Eating with one, arguing with one, complaining to one. The realization nearly killed him.

He raised his eyes to find Thane looking intently at him, eyes squinted.

Seeing Rimon’s expression, Thane frowned. "Rimon?"

The youth nearly jumped. "Y-Yes!" he stuttered.

Thane touched his forehead. "Are you sick?" He seemed concerned.

"N-No!" Rimon stretched his lips forcefully to smile, which came out too ugly to look at.

"Then why do you look like that?" Raising an eyebrow, Thane asked.

Rimon hesitated. "You, you, you’re... nobility." He stuttered even more.

Thane blinked. "Aren’t you also nobility?"

The answer came so naturally that Rimon simply stared. "Huh?"

Thane nodded. "You’re still Rimon," patting Rimon’s shoulder a few times.

The young man suddenly found himself unable to speak.

The giant had not changed. Not even a little.

Perhaps that was what frightened him most. Or perhaps, comforted him. He wasn’t certain.