“He is a mere weakling.”

“Did the cowards send him to parley?”

“He looks like a lost duckling. How can he even accomplish anything?”

“Maybe they sent him to die.”

Arka Jivitasa, the aforementioned ‘weakling’, felt chills run down his spine. He recited the Doctrine of Peace in his mind to calm his nerves. He was standing three steps away from two guards who were talking nonchalantly about his supposed death. He knew he wasn’t going to die, at least not now and not by the guards’ hands.

But it was hard not to worry when he could see them wield weapons. Powerful Weapons infused with Maya. As a citizen of Buvanes, a country which practised pacifism to a religious degree, he rarely ever saw weapons. Thus he couldn’t help but feel agitated as their weapons sizzled and sparkled, a sign of their open hostility.

“Everything seems to be surprisingly in order, little duckling,” said the Immigration Officer, giving Arka a look of distaste.

“Obviously,” replied Arka, trying to sound confident.

He pretended he didn’t hear the annoying nickname they had given him. He wasn’t here to pick petty fights. He just wanted to leave the Immigration Office as soon as possible.

The only reason he even was at the edges of the Barbaric Lands was due to a request by the esteemed founding family of Buvanes. Otherwise, no sane person would ever think of setting foot in the Kingdom of Candresa. The Land of Barbarians.

‘OFFICIAL VISIT’ was stamped on Arka’s travel documents and the words glowed green with Maya. He cringed seeing his documents with creases and dog ears. Truly barbaric, how could they handle such important documents with such carelessness.

“Little Duckling!” the officer called as Arka turned to leave.

“I have a name, Officer,” replied Arka, annoyed.

“I don’t care,” said the officer dismissively. “I don’t respect you enough to call you by your name.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Arka resisted the urge to sigh. “What do you need, Officer?”

“We haven’t verified your health certificate yet,” said the officer as he shared a look with guards. “After all, we wouldn’t want a weakling like you to drop dead in our kingdom.” The guards snickered at the officer’s remarks.

Arka’s eyes widened. His mind raced as he frantically pulled out his travel documents. Arka always organised everything meticulously. There was no way he could have missed something so vital.

Sure enough, the health certificate was in the pile of travel documents the officer had returned. Still, he handed the health certification for verification once more.

The officer’s eyes scanned the documents after which he replied, “You truly are forsaken then.” The officer tutted as if looking at a pitiful creature.

“Excuse me?”

“No Maya, no physical skill, nothing to help you survive.”

“That’s none of your business, Officer,” Arka replied curtly. He snatched the health certificate back into his hands.

The guards were still snickering and the officer’s eyes were laughing at him. Arka realised they had only done this to mock him. He turned to leave.

“Ah, the people of Buvanes are truly spineless fools,” the officer mocked.

Arka didn’t pause, he didn’t react to the mocking and only turned to leave. He was not going to rise to their bait. If they were itching for a fight, they were not going to get one out of him.

Arka had been walking for a few minutes, yet there hadn’t been a soul in sight. Usually the vicinity of immigration offices in Buvanes would be bustling with all kinds of people like vendors, travel guides, porters and more. The situation seems to be wildly opposite in the Barbaric Lands.

To reach the nearest populated city, he still had to walk 100 Danusas.

Clang. Arka startled at the pair of swords blocking his way. In his exhaustion he hadn’t noticed the two guards of immigration office sneak up on him.

“May I help you with something?" Arka asked tiredly, not even mustering up a polite smile.

“Duel us-” the first guard started.

“-prove your worth-” continued the second guard.

“-then only you have the right to step on our holy lands, oh forsaken one!” they both finished.

Arka swore internally, losing all patience. What in the Founder’s ever-loving name were they blabbering about?! Blasphemy! To dare ask a citizen of Buvanes to break his oath of non-violence.

Couldn’t he just do his job as a diplomat peacefully? Why was he cursed to deal with these barbarians?!

Now he had no choice but to teach them a lesson. A slow smile bloomed on Arka's face.