He looked very young, clad in obviously costly plate armor that left him all but armed to the teeth, with two attendants wielding maces trailing behind him.
Ryan had never dealt with nobles, and looking at the arrogant figure before him, he instinctively sensed the man wouldn't be easy to handle.
After a moment's thought, Ryan pointed to Ellie beside him. "My lord, she's a slave from White Mist Island — far more capable than the average person."
"A mere mercenary, able to afford a White Mist Island slave?" He pointed at Maeve, his brow creasing at the dopey-looking girl. "And this one?"
Ryan glanced at Maeve too. "This one? She carries our things, doesn't fight."
Maeve widened her eyes and put on a very serious face; being called a good-for-nothing didn't seem to please her much.
"Listen here, send her back. Women are a burden underground — even the lowliest monsters can scare them witless." The man spoke to Ryan with his chin raised, his tone brooking no refusal.
Just as expected, there was no getting along with these noble lords...
"Let her come. She might prove useful at a critical moment."
Maeve nodded along.
The young noble seemed not to have expected this, and he raised a brow, his voice cold. "You dare question my decision?"
???
Ryan was utterly bewildered.
Clearly, the whole "all men are equal" idea didn't work at all in this world.
He was about to throw in the towel and quit when Evelyn darted out of nowhere. "Young lord Witt, this is a friend of mine. Show him a little consideration."
Witt's expression eased a little; he sized Ryan up, then turned and left with his two attendants.
"Where did you spring from? Didn't you go back to the tavern?"
"Never you mind." Evelyn pulled Ryan aside and went on, "What was that just now? Whatever he says, just go along with it."
Ryan waved a hand. "I don't get along with arrogant types like that. I'd rather take some other job."
"Nobles are all like that. Did you never see nobles back in your hometown?"
Nobles?
It was practically the year 6202 and there were still nobles?
Anyone who flaunted aristocratic privilege so openly was either already pedaling a prison sewing machine or about to be.
Ryan was momentarily lost for words. "Honestly, I really haven't..."
Evelyn went on, "Well, you've seen one now. Commissions like this don't come every day. That noble knight who just spoke to you is Witt, Viscount Pavel's son and the future heir of Caridon.
He may seem a bit harsh, but he's not as difficult to deal with as you think."
Ryan looked toward Witt and found him chatting with the guard beside him, his face no longer stern.
"Is the guy a good person?"
Evelyn hesitated, then lowered her voice. "For me, 'good person' is high praise. He just barely qualifies."
"All right, I get the picture." Ryan sighed.
He put on airs, but he was just about an upright knight.
Evelyn shook her head helplessly and patted Ryan's shoulder. "I'm heading back to the tavern, then. I hope you don't get into trouble..."
"Sure."
Watching her retreating figure, Ryan returned to Ellie's side.
Maeve, the supplies on her back, gloated from the side. "Heh-heh-heh... did you get told off?"
"You behave yourself the whole way, and don't cause trouble, you hear?"
"Got it. Relax, I'll be on my absolute best behavior! Don't you know me by now?" Maeve patted her ample chest and vowed.
It was precisely because he knew Maeve so well that Ryan found her unreliable...
Ryan sighed and promptly went to stroke Ellie's cat ears to ease his mood.
Just then he suddenly noticed that the mercenaries nearby all wore armor.
The vast majority wore chainmail or leather, and the worst of the worst at least had padded armor.
Only the slaves wore nothing but a thin linen shirt...
Compared to everyone else, they really did look like they'd come for sightseeing.
"Once we get back from this, let's get ourselves some proper gear too." Ryan first sought Ellie's opinion. "When you trained on White Mist Island, did you wear armor?"
Ellie nodded and answered softly, "We'd protect the torso with leather armor."
"And plate or chainmail?"
"Not flexible enough, not suited to me." Ellie shook her head and added, "That sort of thing is for men."
She raised her hand and pointed toward Witt's side.
A dark-skinned, burly-looking male demi-human stood there, shouldering a heavy hammer, in a suit of thick plate armor, though he wore no helmet, and his telltale beast ears stood up on his head.
Ryan noticed the man had eyes remarkably like Ellie's.
"He's from the island too?"
Ellie answered softly, "Yes."
Out of nowhere, Maeve gave a sleazy little laugh. "Master, don't tell me you want to touch a man's ears too?"
"What kind of pervert do you take me for?"
Ryan liked mature, alluring, busty older women, not round-faced, bushy-bearded muscle-men.
He had zero desire to touch a man's ears.
The three stood outside the square for a while, and only at noon did the party slowly set off toward the north city gate.
Passing the square, Ryan saw Evelyn standing at the tavern door.
The instant their eyes met, she turned and walked away.
"Master, does that tavern owner have a thing for you? She looked out for you so much today, and keeps sneaking looks at you."
"Sneaking looks at me? Since when?" Ryan was bewildered.
"While we were eating. Every time she'd prop her chin on her hand and glance up at you a couple of times."
The corner of Ryan's mouth curved up in a slightly sleazy grin. "Maybe it's because I'm too handsome... Let her look. What's a man like me got to fear from being looked at?"
Maeve pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced. "She's so old and you still won't pass her up... not a picky eater."
Ryan was no lecher.
But as the saying went, women are like fine wine — the older, the more mellow.
The more wrinkles on a raisin, the sweeter it is.
Besides.
How was Evelyn old? At twenty-six she was still in her prime.
If Evelyn were a glass of red wine, her age was like one just poured and left to breathe a while — exactly right.
"You're still young, you don't get it. When you reach my age you'll understand it all."
Maeve muttered under her breath, "Huh... you don't look much older than me. You've definitely just got a thing for the old ones."
"Not old, not old, just right." Ryan shot her a glance and said pointedly, "Why do I get the feeling your words are dripping with jealousy? Are you envious of her?"
"I am a little envious — a tavern that big surely never runs short on food..."
The two of them were on completely different wavelengths.
Ryan instinctively looked at Ellie, and their eyes met...