Chapter 506: Doh’vahl (1) (1/2)
”Excuse me, Miss… I do have a question if I may…” A rough voice came from amidst the group of mercenaries, causing the masked woman to turn back and be surprised by the event. Truth be told, she did not expect anything from this group, she did not place them too highly either. Unlike the youngsters that befriended her daughter, this band of mercenaries was really just a tool, a bunch of chess pieces she would use, and, -if the need arises-, even sacrifice them without question.
So, though she made the statement, in reality, it was just out of courtesy, she didn't expect anybody to be brazen enough from this band of thugs to actually grab the chance and state a request. Still, she couldn't just turn away now that she made the offer. So with a bit of a frown carefully hid behind the shadows of her full-face mask, she asked with a neutral-sounding tone.
”Yes? What would you like to know? Also, please step out, I can't see who is asking, whom am I talking to?”
Answering her call, surprisingly, the tall figure of Clynt, the man who initiated the ambush on Aiden back in the barracks and was subsequently kicked out of commission later stepped up. His face was still slightly bruised, and though he tried to cover it with his shirt, the bandage-wrap was still noticeable around his chest.
Clynt didn't mind the gazes he received, but stood still, turning his attention on the long black-haired boy looking back at him with a calm, nonchalant expression. There were no emotion, no surprise, no pity, no disdain, nothing in his exotic golden eyes, causing Clynt to visibly frown.
Taking a couple of moments of time to gather his thoughts, he shifted his gaze back on the demon-masked elegant noblewoman, and suddenly bowed down.
”Miss, I…” He hesitated for a second, though only for a second. Then, he took a deep breath, the solemn, serious look returned into his eyes. Raising his right arm, he pointed at Aiden standing beside his Captain as he exclaimed loudly.
”I will not accept that boy as my superior!” He shouted, his eyes brimming with conviction. Clynt looked at the kid and continued. ”I challenge you, Aiden to a Doh'vahl! Only if you will be the victor will I bow down to you!”
His words caused a wave of shock to spread at the rest of the mercenaries. They looked with shock and disbelief at their brethren, unable to understand and process his proclamation.
Even Captain Don furrowed his brows at his statement. Frowning, he turned to this wild-natured 'son' of his. Shaking his head with displeasure, he asked.
”Clynt, you better think this through. Not only you are utterly disrespectful to our employer, but also towards our partners. Haven't you lost enough face today? Step ba-”
”Captain! I am sorry, but I need to do this!” Before Don could finish, Clynt spoke up again. He bowed once again, his words were firm and respectful all the while. ”I know how my actions may look like. Still, you know me, captain, I need this. Please…”
”Y-you!” The captain was overwhelmed with emotions. He clenched his fists and raised it slowly. His rising anger and shame at how a person of his family, his corps acted wanted him to beat this unruly man up.
Before he could act according to his rising feelings, a slender hand, Aiden grabbed his arm, gently pulling it down. He smiled calmly, as their gazes met, and asked without warmth in his voice.
”It's okay Captain. What is this 'Doh'vahl' he was speaking of? Please explain.”
Looking at the young master, Captain Don, could only heave a heavy, helpless sigh. Lowering his arms and releasing his clenched fists, he closed his eyes as the pain and sorrow slowly settled on his aged expression. His shoulders slumped down, he responded with a defeated outward posture.
”I have not spoken about it yet, but in truth, we have come from the far east. Our home was long since taken by the hungry jaws of the empire. Once long ago, we were known as the 'Makhor', a small but fierce nation of warriors, feared and respected throughout the Great Wastes…” He sighed again as he recalled these painful events of the past. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat with a forced cough and continued.
”Anyway... The Doh'vahl is an old tradition of our people…” He sighed again, as he glanced at Clynt with a hint of anger in his eyes before continuing. ”You have to understand, to us, the Makhor, strength, and power were above all else. We didn't dabble too much into the politics of you westerners, we preferred settling our disputes directly. The Doh'vahl is basically a special call for a fair fight in front of the Goddess of Nature, Naone.”