Inside an immensely spacious hall, where daylight filtered through a cluster of small windows in the ceiling, dozens of people stood. They possessed imposing appearances, rugged faces, and sharp gazes.
Some had their bodies protected by sturdy metal armor, highlighting their status as powerful knights. Others wore luxurious clothes and adorned themselves with beautiful jewelry, showcasing their wealth and nobility.
At the very front stood Baron Robert, a man in his forties. He was large-framed, muscular, with a thick beard and short black hair.
Like most of them, he wore silver metal armor that covered his entire body, and a short red cape hung from his back.
In his rough, scar-filled hands, he held a parchment scroll full of writing, and with mysterious glances, he read its contents.
Everyone in the hall watched Baron Robert with tense expressions. He was their lord and the ruler of the barony they lived in. He was known for his cruelty, tyranny, and immense strength as a D-rank Ascendant. Now, their lord held in his hands orders that could change their way of life for all the coming years.
After a full minute of anxiety and anticipation, Baron Robert exhaled roughly. He crumpled the paper in his hands with great force, then tossed it aside.
With a fierce expression, he raised his index finger and pointed toward Liam Draven, a young man in his early twenties, who sat on a simple throne at the far end of the hall. Saliva flying, he roared:
"Listen to me closely, you bastard. Just because you brought a letter from the Duke confirming your words, it doesn't mean I'll let you take a position and strip me of my authority.
Even if it means killing you, I won't let someone with impure blood like you rule my land."
His powerful words thundered in the ears of those present, making them tremble. Yet, they composed themselves and hid their anxiety and tension, for they were all conspiring in this rebellion.
Therefore, they couldn't back down at this crucial moment, fearing the Baron's punishment.
Because of this, their hatred for Liam grew. Swiftly, they looked at him with eyes full of malice, wanting to curse him, but they kept their mouths shut, afraid of insulting him.
Even though Liam was merely a bastard, he was the illegitimate son of Duke Draven, known for his immense power as an A-rank Ascendant.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, Liam, with his long black hair, showed no anger despite the intense insult directed at him. He simply shook his head calmly, letting a few strands of his soft hair fall across his face.
His clear, golden-brown eyes were devoid of any sign of disturbance, as if nothing in this world could faze him.
Slowly, he scanned everyone's faces before his gaze settled on Robert. Then he said, "Robert, mind your tongue. You know that treason against the Duke is punishable by death, so don't think this threat of yours will go unpunished."
His cold, indifferent reply made Robert explode with rage: "You lowlife, enough with your boasting! Everyone knows you're just trash, useless.
And that Duke you speak of doesn't care about a bastard son like you.
He just wants to silence tongues so no one says he kicked his son out and left him homeless. He doesn't care if you truly rule this place or not."
The Baron's anger vanished, replaced by immense mockery. He waved his hands, gesturing to the spacious hall around him.
"Can't you see? You're alone here, and there's no one willing to defend a piece of trash like you, an F-rank. So be smart and understand your position."
His followers laughed loudly, while some smiled bitterly, feeling a touch of pity for him.
For the first time since sitting on his chair, Liam frowned, realizing the gravity of the situation.
He thought for a few seconds, and then a faint smile appeared on his face as he murmured to himself, 'No use, they genuinely intend to rebel against me. Tsk, I'm too weak to face them.'
His heart began to boil with anger, but he maintained his composed demeanor. 'My father, what are you thinking? First, you kick me out of the house, then send me to this barren land to rule it, as a kind of settlement.
Do you simply want to get rid of me, or perhaps this is one of my cursed brothers' schemes?'
As soon as he mentioned his brothers, a flood of very painful memories surfaced in his mind.
...
Two weeks ago, in Flame City, where his family resided, he stood before the Duke's mansion gates, humiliated, defeated, with all his important belongings strewn across the street amidst passersby.
But he didn't look at them, nor did he care about the whispers of the people around him. All he did was stare at a group of people standing behind his home's gate.
They were his brothers and stepmother—the very people who had made his life a living hell. In a voice devoid of emotion and filled with disappointment, he asked, "Why?"
His stepmother shot him an indifferent look and left, abandoning his brothers and sisters to laugh loudly at him.
One of them replied mockingly, "Because you're just a lowlife who doesn't belong with us, don't you understand? You don't deserve to live among us."
Even though he expected to hear such a response, he still couldn't bring himself to accept it. After a brief moment of silence, he replied, "But I'm your brother, doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Initially, he hoped his words would stir his brothers' hearts, but instead, they grew furious. The eldest rebuked him:
"Shut your mouth, you dog! There's no kinship between us and someone impure like you. So leave before I kill you. My father won't protect you anymore, so don't expect our mercy."
His sister then added sarcastically, "You ungrateful wretch, you should be kneeling and groveling before us because we didn't just throw you onto the streets to become a filthy vagrant.
Instead, we honored you by giving you land to rule, something you don't deserve." Then, with a sly smile, she tossed him a parchment scroll.
The murmurs from the public grew louder, and many openly showed their disdain, while some shook their heads in pity.
"Unlucky young man."
"Looks like the bastard finally got kicked out."
"Even though he's a noble, his talent is at rock bottom. He really is trash, just like they say."
"Look at his black hair; it's totally different from his golden-haired siblings. It's obvious he's not truly the Duke's son."
Dozens of whispers reached his ears, but he didn't react to them, or rather, he didn't care.
He was used to people mocking him. Nevertheless, he couldn't hide his sadness, silently sighing at his cruel fate.
Calmly, he picked up the scroll from the ground, then bowed his head slightly and spoke words of farewell: "Thank you for your generosity.
Tell my father I'm grateful for everything he's done for me over all these years."
His brothers' laughter grew louder, and the people around him became more scornful.
But he didn't care. He picked up his bags and left the place with his head held high and determined eyes. Inside, he felt immense relief, because finally, he could get away from the family that had tormented him his entire life.
He looked at the scroll in his hand, which carried his father's orders addressed to Baron Robert, who ruled a small, poor barony on the border called "Sand's Edge" Barony.
...
Liam sighed in displeasure. He glared at Baron Robert for a moment, then calmly rose from his chair.
He took a few steps forward until he stood beside him, then looked at him with a mysterious gaze and said, "Don't come crawling and crying to me when my father finds out about this."
But the Baron merely laughed, gesturing to his followers: "Take our guest to his room."
Before Liam could even think of a reply, several strong soldiers surrounded him and roughly shoved him: "Move."
Like a prisoner, he was escorted through the cold, gloomy castle corridors towards a small room, resembling a cell.
One of the soldiers opened the door while another pushed him inside, then they locked the door, imprisoning him in his room.
Liam stared at his small, dirty room, infested with insects.
His bags, which he had brought, were also placed in the room, making him realize they had planned to bring him to this place from the very beginning.
His consciousness began to drift, recalling all the humiliating words spoken to him. His face twisted with intense rage.
He gritted his teeth until his gums bled and kicked his bed and bags with all his might, sending them flying and crashing against the wall.
"Damn it... damn you, bastards! I'll make you regret this! I'll kill you!" He smashed everything in his path like a madman, but then suddenly stopped.
He calmed himself with difficulty, not allowing rage to control him.
He sat on his dirty bed, held his head, and muttered, "I must escape this place."