Chapter 4 - 1 Part 4: East of La Magia
Fifteen leagues east of Robert's Magic Academy, there lies a territory that's being governed by the Claye family. A young noble with blond hair, which falls naturally in nose, appeared to be softer, more layered and slightly tousled texture and voluminous. He is wearing a velvet doublet with an undershirt. His name is Jin Claye, sixteen years old, marches towards the territory named Bradford Village. Behind him was his butler named, Antonio as he uttered, "Young lord, fifteen leagues had passed and you still maintain an elegant horsemanship, like an elite knight."
Jin smirked as he replied, "Do you feel the saddle sore, Antonio?"
Though embarrassed, Antonio nodded, "Aye, young lord."
"Then we should rest" Jin uttered with no sign of fatigue.
At this, his five guardsmen, weary from near eight hours astride their steeds, did brighten with joy, as they had been riding the horse for around eight hours without a rest. But Antonio retorted, "There's no need, young lord. We are near unto Bradford Village."
Turning his gaze upon the knights who rode behind, Antonio thought within himself, we must not show weakness before our young lord, not by someone who had no horse-riding training. But where does young lord learn such subtle horsemanship
As they drew nearer unto the village, the roads are cracked, sunbaked and devoid of proper paving. Foul-smelling streams of runoff trickled along the edges, thick with human waste. Clouds of buzzing flies hovered above the filth, while scruffy dogs prowled upon it. The drainage system was no better. Shallow ditches lined the roadside, clogged with thick muck, rot, and the stench of decay.
From a nearby hovel, a young woman peeked through a small window, her face framed by the rough-spun wool and coarse linen of her patched clothing. The walls of her home were made of wattle and daub, crumbling at the corners. As soon as her eyes met Jin's, she hurriedly pulled down a sheet of oiled cloth, shielding herself from his sight. Antonio, ever quick with his tongue, chuckled and said, "She's embarrassed by your handsomeness, young lord."
Jin's gaze lingered on the window, his voice low and bitter.
"Don't smooth-talk me, Antonio. That was no blush of modesty. That was the look of disgust."
The street was alive with the hum of insects and the pittifuldistant cries of hungry, malnourished children, their sunken cheeks and bloated bellies a haunting sight. Across the road, two old villagers whispered, their voices just loud enough to hear in a distance.