47 The Nobility at its Bes (1/2)
To say nothing of the ship guards. For the hundreds of foreign nobles on the scene, 6,000 qraftas represented a sum their entire houses couldn't part with. However, that 18 years old youth tossed them as if they were mere trash. What was wealth? This was wealth. And instantly guards and nobles alike mistook Kilian for a high-ranking noble.
Or well, almost. As he crossed the stairs leading into the ship, a voice thundered from Kilian's back.
”Halt!” A senior ship guard raced across the stairs to catch up to Kilian's step, while two others that stood at the other end snapped out of their torpor and descended to block his path.
”My lord, this is no way to handle formalities. Please come with us for the identity che-” The senior ship guard began, and stretched out his hand toward Kilian. Why did a mere guard dare block perceived high nobility's path?
Haircut. Having dealt with nobility scions for more than a decade, a simple glance at Kilian's knotted dreadlocks enabled the guard to see that a high-ranking noble Kilian was not. To say nothing of high nobility, even low nobility wouldn't sport what the world saw as the unwritten commoner id. Most likely, the youth was some twilight child sponsored by a high ranking noble—or so the guard thought.
Therefore, until they received the approval of the one inside, he dared not let him. But as the guard's hand neared Kilian's shoulder, a small but unshakable female hand grabbed his wrist, and dreadful killing intent slammed him from the side. Unable to finish his words, the guard shivered uncontrollably, not even daring to face the owner of that hand—to face Lena.
Not that he needed to, with the bestial pressure locking him, he didn't doubt that the tiniest misstep would result in his demise. Instantly, cold sweat soaked his face.
”Kilian zu Verden, lord of Ostria. Feel free to use the banknotes to check my master's fingerprints and identity. But though twilight child he may be, to say nothing of laying hands on him, imperial laws don't allow you to stand within one meter of his presence without his verbal consent.
Since you saw fit to break the law, we must break your hand,” Lena stated in such a chilling tone that the guard felt the ice creep on his heart and stifle him from the inside.
*Crack*
The black forearm guard protecting the man's arm held no worth under Lena's grip. Her palms sank past them and into the man's flesh, crushing his bones in a resounding, snapping sound.
”AAAAAAAARGH!” He howled in grief, but barely had his screams begun that Lena hurled him across the air, to tumble down the stairs. Groveling before the mighty, condescending to the low. With a glance, Lena could see the type of man they were dealing with.
His very scent sickened her.
Undisturbed, Kilian carried on his way, and this time, none dared stop him. The three thus crossed the stairs and stepped into the luxurious ship. With 320 cabins at its disposal, all the size of a presidential suite, to say that the ship lacked space was no different from insulting the prospective passengers' intellectual quotient.
Of course, to those inside, that mattered not. Waving his ticket, Kilian produced dark-blue magical lights that led the way toward the matching cabin. The tickets served as both guides and keys. Therefore, the three had no need for a steward's escort. But as they reached his cabin, Kilian turned to face his girls, and extended their tickets toward them.
”Here are your tickets. I picked neighboring cabins. Have a good night,” Kilian began in a serious tone, making the startled two blink beneath their cloaks.
”Joking, I'm joking. I wouldn't abandon you to lonely nights void of pounding after such a troublesome day. Come, Come. Good to know you have your priorities clear,” he pursued, causing black lines to stretch the two's foreheads. It was in moments like these, that Jezebel firmly believed that were it not for Klaus, Kilian could have been quite the troll.
The cabin's door opened, and the three dove in, eager to relieve a stressful night with a steamy romp.
…