Chapter 213: Rumour teller
Marshall Travis, unlike his father, who served the Storm King, was merely the offspring of a minister. His father, being one of the demons who had emerged from Hell, had accumulated enough wealth that the young man didn’t need to lift a finger and could simply indulge in a life of leisure without needing to exert any effort.
The sky had grown dark long ago when Marshall walked through the upscale streets designed for rich people like him. He wore a hat and clenched a toothpick between his teeth. He was pissed that the woman named Emily Thorn had hit him in public. Seeking to blow off steam, he aimed to find one of the lowly men or women who occasionally crossed over from their filthy towns to affluent neighbourhoods like this one so that he could use them as punching bags to vent his pent-up anger.
Marshall had attempted to gather information through his father’s contacts about how closely related Emily was to the king. To his surprise, he discovered that their connection turned out to be quite distant, making it a stretch for them to be called relatives, as he couldn’t establish a clear link between the woman and their king.
"How distantly related could she be?" Marshall asked himself as he strolled down the illuminated street, the lampposts casting a fiery glow. "Probably not important at all, yet she carries herself with such arrogance," he spat in irritation.
"Mr. Travis," the shopkeeper, whose window Marshall had crashed his head into earlier this afternoon, called out to him.
"What?" Marshall snapped at the lowly seller.
The shopkeeper appeared uncertain before saying, "The window needs to be repaired, and it is a bit costly, which goes beyond my budget. I was wondering if you, given your—"
"Me?" Marshall’s lips twisted in distaste, and he remarked, "Instead of asking how my head is doing, you are asking for payment for something I wasn’t responsible for. What a rude man you are; no wonder you find yourself in this position." He huffed.
"I—I’m running low on funds, and if it’s not repaired, our patrons might stop coming—"