Chapter 68: Barrel and Forge

Walking through the evening streets, Darius was poised and observant, his gaze drifting leisurely as he absorbed the scenes around him. 'Solomon must be Crelos's new master. What other reason could there be for his presence here?'

"Hey boss," a voice oozed from behind, breaking into his thoughts.

Darius, still under the guise of Xue Feng, turned with a slight frown. "What is it?"

"Do we have to go back to the Country Forge? I just ate there the other night," Percy complained, his shoulders sagging.

Rubbing his temples with a hint of frustration, Darius struggled to keep his temper in check. "Percy, I'm well aware you dined there. But recall, it was your hasty retreat to your father's safety that disrupted my meal."

Darius abruptly paused in his stride, inhaling deeply, a memory of Wu Chen flashing through his mind—'He was much worse.' Turning sharply to face Percy, who instinctively flinched, Darius's voice was flat and uncompromising. "You're a poor excuse for a man, do you realize that? Flaunting your father's name, strutting around the city like a lord, yet always skulking behind others, using your position to intimidate the weak. It's cliche and boring."

Percy stood rigid, the impact of Darius's words striking him like physical blows.

"You're weak, untrained, and lazy. Worst of all, despite your father's love—perhaps he's the only one in this world who could bear such affection for you—you bring him nothing but disgrace."

As Darius's critique sunk in, tears welled in Percy's eyes. His jaw clenched, and a feeble green aura flickered around him as he stammered, "Y-you have no ri..."

Before Percy could finish, Darius placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his tone softening. "But I understand."

Percy jerked away from Darius's touch, shaking his head in frustration. He opened his mouth to retort, but Darius preempted him. "Your potential's limited to the second tier, isn't it?"

The color drained from Percy's face, his fists clenched as a storm of emotions brewed within him.

"Insecurity can cripple even the strongest of men," Darius continued, unphased by the growing attention from bystanders. "Women, strength, position—all can erode a man’s confidence and incite resentment towards others." As murmurs began to swirl around them, Darius casually touched his brooch, letting a flare of his fire aura ripple out aggressively, prompting the onlookers to divert their gaze and mind their own business.

Percy's composure faltered as if Darius had stripped him bare. Noting the dispersing crowd, Percy mustered a weak suggestion, "Let's walk," and began dejectedly heading towards the Country Forge.

Walking alongside him, Darius maintained a composed demeanor, his hands clasped behind his back. "When I failed my assessments, the disappointment and pain I saw in my parents' faces..."

"I know what you're trying to do," Percy managed a hollow chuckle, his voice tinged with bitterness, "so just stop. I really don't want to talk about this, especially not with someone like you. You show up, embarrass me, and then worm your way into my father's good graces."

His expression darkened, "He praises you endlessly—it’s clear he wishes I were more like you. Maybe I'm not the sharpest, but I'm not blind. You're only on my case because he asked you to be. So, drop the act. I prefer it when you're straightforward and just hit me."

Darius shook his head, a grin spreading across his face as he let out a loud laugh. "Well, look at that, you can be perceptive. I can see why you'd think that. And yes, your father did ask me to take an interest in you. Honestly, from what you've shown me so far, you're not someone I could like."

Percy's cheeks flushed, his breathing growing ragged.

"But," Darius continued, his tone shifting slightly, "if you're willing to pull your head out of your ass and actually listen, maybe I could help you get stronger." With that, Darius picked up his pace, leaving Percy a few steps behind.

Percy halted, confusion knitting his brow, when suddenly Darius's voice sounded in his mind. "Remember, idiot, I failed my assessments."

A spark of understanding ignited in Percy's eyes as he glanced down at his hands, then back up at Darius's retreating figure. A smile broke over his face, a hint of new resolve lighting his expression. "Yes, boss!" he called out, quickening his pace to catch up with Darius.

----

The Country Forge buzzed with its usual vibrant crowd as Darius and Percy arrived. Stepping into the boisterous restaurant, Darius was promptly recognized by the young waiter who had attended to him previously.

As they were led to their table on the second floor, the waiter hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes flicking between Darius and the now spotted Percy. He quickly composed himself and gestured them to their seats.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Once seated and after ordering braised ribs again, accompanied by a bottle of Fleet wine, both for himself and Percy, Darius leaned back to survey the bustling restaurant. "Tell me about this city. Besides your father and Atleman Brundy, is there anyone else here I should be wary of?"

After pausing to consider, Percy responded, "there are two other worth mentioning. One is old man Hershel, a retired 4th tier lightning mage know for his...eccentric tastes."

"Don't skirt around it, just say it."

Leaning closer, Percy whispered, "he has a penchant for young boys, particularly werefolk."

Darius wrinkled his nose in disgust, shaking his head slightly. "And the other?"

Percy suddenly straightened, his expression changing as a rosy flush crept over his face. "The Mountain..." he sighed as he sank back into his seat, his tone taking on a distant quality. "A 4th tier earth knight. A shield knight with immense strength, even earned a title before reaching the 7th rank."

Darius squinted slightly, leaning back. "You like men?"

"What?! No!" Percy yelled, then, realizing his outburst, his face turned even redder, and he quickly lowered his voice. "No, The Mountain is a woman. Lady Clarke, The Mountain of Floeur d'Alene."

Relieved by the clarification, Darius leaned forward, his interest piqued. "So, she's quite striking then, given your reaction?"

Percy's face lit up, his tone almost reverent. "She's like the moon on a cold winter's night. Jet black hair, bright yellow eyes that seem to pull you in. Her body is sculpted by an artist, as if created from the finest gemstones."

"Alright, I understand," Darius interjected, a hint of amusement in his voice. But his next words were cut short as he noticed the waiter approaching their table, balancing two bottles of Fleet wine, each nestled in a jar of warm water, his approach smooth despite the bustling environment.

Darius kept his gaze fixed on the bottles as the waiter set them on the table. Without diverting his eyes, he inquired, "And the cups?"

The waiter, with an apologetic grimace, bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, sir. The closest thing we could find to match your request were these sauce cups. We truly mean no offense, and the chef has already requested that proper cups be made for future use. We hope these will suffice for now."

Darius looked up, slightly taken aback by the waiter's response, 'rumors must be spreading.'

He slid a mid-grade crystal across the table, lowering his voice. "What have you heard about me?"

The waiter’s eyes lit up as he snatched the crystal, leaning in with a warm smile. "Sir has been the subject of much discussion. A mysterious stranger who openly clashed with the Kinneman household, left the city for a duel with Sir Marcus Kinneman, and returned unscathed and seemingly in favor? Rumors speculate everything from a drawn battle to you possessing a formidable lineage that even Sir Kinneman respects. Might Sir shed some light on these tales? Clearing up such confusion could also be considered a tip, after all."

Darius chuckled to himself, 'Seems keeping a low profile was never in the cards.' He looked at the waiter, "That will be enough. If I need anything else, I'll call."

A flicker of disappointment crossed the waiter's face. "Of course, sir. Your meal will be out shortly." With that, he headed back towards the kitchen.

Percy's whisper carried a hint of amusement, "You seem quite popular, at this point I'd be cautious if I were you."

"Cautious?" Darius raised an eyebrow.

With a teasing smile, Percy leaned in slightly, "If rumors are to be believed and you fought my father to a stalemate, then surely the Mountain will be seeking you out soon enough."

Darius scoffed lightly, swirling the wine before pouring it into the tiny saucer, "Oh? And why would she be interested in me? Is she addicted to dueling or something?"

As Percy mimicked his actions with his cup, he chuckled, "Exactly. She spends her time either hunting mana-beasts or challenging others to duels. She never rests." He took a sip of the warmed Fleet wine, his eyes widening with delight, then narrowing in satisfaction, "That's... perfect."

Darius watched him, irritation flickering across his face. 'That's the enjoyment I was hoping for. This kid’s mood is ruining mine.' He downed his wine quickly, his frown deepening. 'I need to talk to Marcus about this. I don't need some battle-crazed knight coming after me.'

As Darius mulled over the potential challenge from the mountain woman, their food finally arrived, allowing him to shift his focus to the meal before him.

Despite his reservations about his company, the remainder of the dinner passed pleasantly. Percy, though not his preferred dining partner, managed to hold a lively and informative conversation that engaged Darius.

By the end of their meal, after indulging in three more bottles of warmed Fleet wine, Percy showed signs of being considerably intoxicated. Darius, on the other hand, had to barely cycle his cultivation technique to cleanse his bloodstream and clear his mind.

After settling the bill and expressing their gratitude to the chef, Darius and a noticeably tipsy Percy prepared to leave the restaurant. As they descended from the second floor, Percy, less steady on his feet, clumsily collided with two tier 3 mages ascending the stairs, one male, the other female.

The impact caused the pair's drinks to splash over their robes and onto Percy. For a moment, Percy's face contorted as if he were about to unleash a tirade. However, a quick glance at Darius tempered his response, and he managed to belch out a clumsy, "My...apologies."

Surprised by Percy's restraint, Darius gave a slight nod. 'It's a start.'

"Apologies?!" the male mage spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're a drunken disgrace, Percy! Do you think a mere apology suffices? Get on your knees and lick my boots clean, and maybe I'll let you off with just paying for damages. Otherwise..."

A large hand descended onto the shoulder of the irate mage, halting his tirade mid-sentence. "Get your—" He choked on his words as he turned to see who had intervened.

Old man Darius, with a broad grin plastered across his face, stared down at the mage. "Please forgive him," he boomed, the warmth in his eyes contrasting the tension. "As you can see, he's quite inebriated. Let's avoid further unpleasantness," he suggested, his hand radiating heat as his eyes flickered with a subtle killing intent. "Allow me to cover the damages and your meals for the evening."

Feeling suddenly like a hunter who had cornered a helpless wolf cub, only to find the cub had it's father, the mage quickly changed his tone. "You are very gracious," he stammered, pulling the woman beside him closer almost as a shield. "It must be trying for you, accompanying such trash," he ventured, trying to salvage the situation. "Perhaps, sir, you would care to join us instead this evening?"

Darius chuckled internally. 'He’s likely believes the rumors that I have powerful connections.' Releasing the mage's shoulder, Darius began to walk away. "I appreciate the offer, but as I've already dined, my evening has concluded. Perhaps another time. Just send the bills to the Kinneman household."

Guiding Percy out of the restaurant, he then steered him around a corner and into a dimly lit alcove. "Stay here," he instructed firmly, setting him against the wall.

Percy, overwhelmed by the effects of the alcohol, looked up hazily. As his head dipped forward, his words slurred out, "yesh, dad."

Touching his brooch, Darius changed his appearance to mimic a child he had noticed earlier, dressed in the Country Forge’s uniform and apron. 'This is going to be good,' a smirk playing across his lips. Touching his pouch, he retrieved a small red barrel.

The Barrel of Monkeys was a peculiar primordial treasure and Darius's first attempt with it had been both baffling and underwhelming. Upon opening the barrel initially, three identical monkeys, half a meter tall, with brown fur and black faces had burst forth in a puff of pink smoke. They blinked, surveying their surroundings at the beast-farm briefly, before they started screeching and scampering off into the woods, completely disregarding Darius.

The monkeys had been an annoying mystery; they scampered away for an entire day, ignoring his commands or any potential use he could envision. His experiment involving a confrontation with a Mana-Beast ended just the same; the monkeys shrieked at the sight and bolted into the forest, only to return the next morning and scurry back into their barrel.

They were utterly uncontrollable, with a seemingly pointless 24-hour summoning limit. Useless in battle, perhaps, but possibly not for other endeavors.

With a new plan in mind, Darius re-entered the restaurant. He exuded confidence, blending seamlessly into the bustling environment as if he were merely another employee belonging there as he made his way to the second floor. Earlier, Darius had kept an eye on the two mages as he left; watching as they had been led to a private room. This had given him the particularly mischievous idea.

Navigating the crowded tables, Darius disregarded the din of patrons and their calls for service as he made his way to a secluded part of the second floor. Approaching the door of the private room, a thought crossed his mind, 'can only blame yourself, should have accepted his apology.'

With a mischievous grin plastered on his face, he quietly cracked open the door. In a swift, almost unseen motion, he unsealed the Barrel of Monkeys, unleashing the cloud of pink smoke into the room as well as three, screaming monkeys.