Chapter 21: Belmiard (1)
Unlike noble gardens filled with ancient works of art, the streets of the common folk reeked of dampness and decay. Only those familiar with them could truly understand the disparity.
One’s living conditions are like a well-fitted suit—easy to climb into, but hard to step down from.
Nonetheless, Dereck felt completely at ease walking the tavern-lined streets alongside an old friend.
“Noble trash would only fatten you up like a pig. When I heard you’d holed up in that ducal mansion for months, I let out a huge sigh.”
“Pheline, you worry too much. And not all nobles are rotten.”
“Oh, look at you. A few months of luxury living and you’re already part of the household. Next thing I know, you’ll be pledging loyalty as a knight.”
“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
Dereck chuckled and glanced down the tavern street. This place, frequented by hardened mercenaries, was known as one of the roughest parts of Ebelstain.
A place where people would kill for a handful of silver coins. Surviving here meant being intimate with violence. And Pheline, like Dereck, was a girl who earned her living as a mercenary in these tavern-ridden streets.