The gang stood in a crooked half-circle on the dusty patch of ground in front of the tavern. Sweat from the dawn "training" still clung to their clothes, but the air around them felt heavier than any workout.
The girl with the vegetable basket now revealed as the messenger sat stiffly on a barrel, legs crossed, eyes sharp. In the center, the tavern's wiry owner, Paul, held a crumpled letter close to his face. Each line he read dragged his thin brows lower and lower until they nearly met above his nose.
"How can I possibly do this?" Paul burst out, voice cracking.
The girl barely blinked. "You've got two months before the deadline."
"TWO MONTHS!? That's not enough!" Paul's hands trembled, the paper rattling like dry leaves.
"Then figure it out," she said flatly.
Lard lumbered forward, snatching the letter with surprising grace for a man shaped like a beer barrel. He scanned the page, lips moving as he read, and his normally cheerful face hardened. "This is… too much."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "Don't butt in and make things worse. And tell your dirty goons to keep their noses out of it, too."
Sein opened his mouth, ready to fire back, but Raiyna caught his sleeve with a quiet squeeze of warning.
Raiyna's own gaze stayed fixed on the letter. "What does your father think?" she asked the girl.
The messenger gave a short, bitter laugh. "What else? He's troubled. Everyone in town is. Who wouldn't be?"
A restless silence settled over the gang as the weight of that single sheet of paper pressed down on all of them whatever it contained, it wasn't just Paul's problem anymore.
The air tightened like a drawn bowstring as the knight's boots scraped across the packed dirt.
Ronald crossed his arms and growled through his uneven Scottish burr, "Aye Deceitful bastards always finding this on us. E're bloody time I say."
The girl didn't even look up. "I didn't understand a word of that, so shut it."
Ronald's jaw snapped open for a retort, but Lard's voice cut through first. "Just because you're the chief's daughter doesn't mean you can say whatever you please."
Her chin lifted, eyes glinting. "If you lot acted like decent people, I'd speak more graciously. But troublemakers like you don't deserve that. You all know exactly what the townsfolk think of you. The difference is I'm not afraid of you."
A hush fell. Raiyna stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and placed a firm hand on the girl's shoulder. Her cold expression never wavered as she leaned closer. "Maybe you should be."
The messenger swallowed, a thin sheen of sweat rising on her brow as the rest of the gang glared with quiet menace.
"Enough," Lard rumbled. "We solve the problem first."
Then a new weight entered the circle quiet but commanding. The knight strode in, his ever-present grin subdued but not gone. Without asking, he plucked the letter from Lard's thick fingers and unfolded it.
No one dared breathe as the paper rustled. The knight's eyes swept each line, unreadable, while the entire gang waited he was the only one who might turn this tangle of threats and deadlines into something they could fight.
The knight's quiet chuckle sliced through the tension like a blade.
"Tax, huh," he said at last, eyes still on the parchment.
"And an absurd amount at that." Paul threw his thin arms in the air. "Absurd? It's criminal! The kingdom only remembers we exist when it wants our coin. Nothing else."
The knight didn't answer. He just kept staring at the letter, unreadable, as if the ink itself might confess a secret.
"How in the world are we supposed to come up with four hundred gold coins?" Paul added, voice climbing. "We barely scrape together a quarter of that in a good year."
The messenger girl crossed her legs and said flatly, "Maybe you'd have it if you didn't spend your days extorting and intimidating honest folk."
Lard's brows knitted. "It's not like that and you know it."
"It's not better either," she shot back, eyes narrowing.
Before the argument could boil over, a sudden, rich laugh erupted. The knight was laughing. The sound startled the gang into silence. Even the girl stiffened. He lowered the letter, grin flashing wider than ever. "Four hundred gold, hmm? Now that's interesting."
Everyone exchanged uneasy looks. Whatever plan that grin hinted at, they weren't sure they wanted to hear
The knight slipped a hand into his cloak and produced a small, well-worn satchel. Coins clinked together as he tossed it lightly into the air.
"That's fifty gold right there," he said with an easy grin. "Consider it a start."
Lard's eyes bulged. "Hey—that's mine!"
The knight turned his head just enough for his grin to sharpen. Lard caught the look and instantly shut his mouth. Around them, the gang exchanged glances that all said the same thing: plain daylight robbery and none of them dared to argue.
"But," the knight went on, "I know where to get the rest."
A stunned hush fell. Even Paul forgot to scowl.
"You—you what?" someone finally blurted.
"Why not?" the knight replied, as if the answer were obvious. He tipped his chin toward the battered tavern behind them. "But first… tell me. Do you lot really love this hunk of rotting wood?"
Ronald straightened, his broken brogue ringing out. "Aye. Tis our home."
The knight nodded once, satisfied.
Lard crossed his arms. "Why would you go so far for us?"
"Well first of all It's easy for me to get the money," the knight said evenly. "I never said it would be easy for you."
Raiyna stepped forward, her brows drawn tight, eyes glinting with something more than defiance. "You've known us for a single day," she said. "For all you know we could take the gold and vanish."
The knight's gaze swept over the group, unreadable yet piercing. "You don't have the guts for that."
A tiny laugh escaped Raiyna despite herself. But the sound died quickly. She turned to look at the tavern its crooked beams, its cracked sign hanging by a single nail and then back to the knight.
"You don't understand," she said quietly, her voice steadying as it grew louder. " It's the only home any of us ever had. Out there, we're nothing. Just names people spit out like a curse. But inside these walls we matter. We fight, we bicker, we drink, we survive together. That makes this broken building worth more than any palace I'll never see. This place isn't just a tavern in fact we can rebuild the tavern any time its the land that's important and if we don't pay up they'll take the land and kick us out"
Her words carried through the chilly evening air. The gang fell silent, every pair of eyes fixed on her.
"This place is where I learned that family isn't always blood. It's the people who stand with you when no one else will. The kingdom can tax us, the townsfolk can scorn us but they can't take that away. Not unless we let them."
Raiyna's voice softened. "So no, we won't run with your gold. We'll fight for this place, because without it we're just scattered pieces again."
For a moment, only the creak of the tavern sign answered her. Then Lard grunted, stepping closer. "She's right. We built this with our own hands. No king ever helped us. We're not lettin' anyone tear it down."
Ronald nodded sharply. "Aye. Lost plenty already. Not losin' this."
Even quiet Jayl tilted his masked face toward the knight. "This is where people like us prove we exist. That's reason enough."
Paul, the skinny tavern owner, let out a long, shuddering breath. "I curse this place every morning," he muttered, "but… it's mine too."
The girl with the letter looked from face to face, startled by the sudden unity in their rough voices.
Raiyna met the knight's eyes again, her chin high, every word etched with resolve. "If saving this tavern means training until I drop, I'll do it. If it means chasing down every coin across this rotten kingdom, I'll do that too. No matter how insane your plan is. You ask it, I'll follow."
A deeper silence settled one with weight, not fear. The knight's grin returned, wider and brighter, but no longer mocking. "Good," he said at last, voice carrying like a promise. "Then we start tomorrow."
The little girl, still clutching the rolled letter, turned her sharp eyes on the knight."You're new here, aren't you?" she said, voice crisp as frost. "If you're smart, you won't waste your time helping this rotten lot. You'll only regret it."
Her words cut through the night air. "They only cause trouble for the rest of us normal folks. The town hasn't forgiven them and probably never will."
The knight's grin faded. He crouched until his eyes were level with hers, his heavy cloak settling in the dust. The gang held its breath, waiting for one of his usual jests. None came.
He studied the girl with an unwavering, almost solemn gaze. "I don't know what they did," he said quietly. "From the sound of it, it must've been pretty bad."
The girl blinked but didn't flinch.
"But," the knight went on, voice steady as steel, "I don't care. What matters is what they choose to do now. If they're willing to fix their mistakes, that's enough for me to forgive them."
The knight rose to his full height, shadow spilling across the girl like a drawn curtain. His cloak whispered in the breeze, the faint jingle of his scabbard the only sound.
"They might be weak," he began, voice low and deliberate.He took a single step forward.
"Loud." Another step, boots crunching the dirt.
"Pathetic." His grin curved back, slow as a blade being unsheathed.
"Smelly." He paused, sniffed theatrically, and tilted his head toward Lard. "Especially that one."
The gang stiffened. Someone coughed.
"Uncivilized," the knight finished, letting the word hang like a death sentence.
The silence stretched until Lard, brow damp, finally croaked, "…And?"
The knight glanced down, deadpan. "That's it."
The collective sigh that followed was half relief, half disbelief like a tavern brawl that ended with everyone getting free drinks instead of broken noses.
Ronald muttered, "Coulda sworn he was workin' up to 'vile demons of the abyss,'" earning a round of nervous chuckles.
The girl blew out a long, put-upon sigh and flicked a strand of hair from her cheek. "Whatever. Anyway, the tax collector will be here in two months to collect." Her gaze slid to Paul. "And they're sending Gustav again."
A collective groan rolled through the gang like thunder.
"Not that piranha-faced freak again," Ronald spat, his broken brogue sharpening every syllable.Jayl added, "Guy looks like a piranha that just got dumped by his goldfish girlfriend."Even the usually quiet Narco muttered, "Ugliest noble I've ever seen and I've seen a lot of ugly nobles."
The knight raised an eyebrow, amused. "What's the big deal about this Gustav?"
Lard scratched his stubbly chin. "The guy's a government official and a noble from House Faux."
The knight's grin faltered, his eyes narrowing. "Faux…?" he murmured, as if the name rang somewhere in a dusty corner of his memory.
"Yeah," Lard said, voice thick with contempt. "A real first-class bastard. Every time he shows up with the envoy, he struts around like the king's own peacock. Bullies the townsfolk, demands the best food, the best rooms, and makes sure everybody knows we can't lay a finger on him."
Raiyna crossed her arms. "Because if we did, the whole kingdom would come down on our heads."
"Exactly," Lard growled. "Touch him and it's war. So we grit our teeth and watch him act like he owns the place."
The knight's grin returned, slow and sharp. "Sounds… memorable."
A few of the gang shivered. When the knight smiled like that, "memorable" usually meant trouble for someone else.
Thorus leaned toward Jayl, voice low but not nearly low enough. "Can't the knight just… y'know, blast the piranha freak away?"
"Mr. Knight blasting the piranha freak away?!" Jayl squeaked, eyes going wide as the words escaped louder than he meant. He slapped both hands over his mouth, but it was far too late.
The courtyard went silent. Every head turned.
Lard tapped his chin, eyes half-lidded in sudden inspiration. "Huh. That would be nice." In his mind, a cartoonish scene played out: the knight flinging a fireball while Gustav shrieked like a scorched lobster. The fantasy dissolved when the obvious follow-up war with the kingdom flashed through his head. His smile died.
Everyone stiffened and, almost in unison, shifted their gaze toward the knight.
"Surely, Sir Knight," Lard said, his grin wobbling, "you wouldn't actually harm the man for his foul mouth… right?"
The knight tilted his head, visor catching the light. "I am the Hero Knight," he said calmly. "I wouldn't do something so stupid."
A wave of relief washed over them until the knight added, "Unless, of course, the guy does something truly deserving of what's coming to him."
The relief snapped like a dry twig. Sweat beaded on foreheads. The knight's deep laugh rumbled through the air, delighted by their collective panic.
The messenger girl pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "I'm done here," she said flatly, turning to leave. Over her shoulder she added, "Father says the lot of you still aren't welcome in town. Don't show your faces there yet."
The words landed like a hammer.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved. The usual banter died in their throats. Lard's shoulders sagged first, his heavy frame suddenly smaller. Ronald muttered something in his broken brogue that even he didn't bother to finish. Raiyna's eyes dropped to the dirt, jaw tight, as if the message had been carved across her chest.
Paul set the letter down with unusual care. "Figures," he said, but his voice lacked its usual snap.
One by one the gang seemed to deflate backs bending, eyes dulling. The tavern behind them creaked in the wind, its patched walls a reminder of every mistake the town still held against them.
For all their bluster, they were still the outcasts of Laundry Town. No apology big enough, no training brutal enough, could erase the way the villagers crossed the street to avoid them or whispered when they passed.
Even the fire-breathing cat slunk closer to Lard's boots and sat in silence.
At the gate, young Sein watched the girl's departing figure with a hard, wounded stare. His fists tightened until his knuckles went white.
Sein stepped into her path, small but unflinching. The girl looked down at him, one brow arched, her expression sharp. "I've never seen you before," she said, tone dripping with annoyance.
Sein pointed at her, his voice steady despite the tension. "What's your name?"
The girl blinked, caught off guard. "Manda," she replied.
He took a deep breath and asked carefully, "Manda… did you really have to say all those mean things to them?"
Manda stared at him for a moment, as if weighing his nerve against his size. "Are you new here?" she countered.
"Yes," he said simply.
Her lips twisted into a brief, scornful smile. "Then shut it. You don't know a damn thing about what they've done." Her voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. "The townsfolk? They wouldn't even look at them. Not once. So before you start accusing anyone of anything, maybe take a look at your precious Lard first."
With that, she scoffed, spun on her heel, and began walking away.
Sein stayed frozen for a moment, trying to piece together her words. "What… did she mean?" he muttered under his breath.
Turning around, he saw the gang in the courtyard, bickering, arguing, even laughing in their chaotic way. Lard stood at the center, waving his hands and shouting, trying to command attention over the noise.
Sein's eyes narrowed. Something inside him settled, a quiet, firm resolve forming. Maybe Lard and this ragtag gang weren't just troublemakers after all.
The knight's voice cut through the chaos like steel. "Shut it!" he barked. Instantly, the gang froze mid-argument, mid-gesture, mid-thought. "Get in line, all of you!"
Hastily, the ragtag crew formed a crooked, uneven line, shuffling into place with varying degrees of reluctance and awe. The knight raised his hands forward, fingers splayed, his tone serious completely unlike the teasing, unpredictable man they had come to know.
"Listen!" His voice echoed across the courtyard. "I don't care what you shitheads did before, nor do I care. What matters is now. What you choose to do to fix your mistakes, to mend the wrongs you've made." His gaze swept over each of them, piercing, unflinching. "I'll tell you this, life doesn't hand out what you want. Not always. But if you work hard enough… miracles can happen."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, then leaned slightly forward, voice sharp and dangerous. "So if any one of you cockroaches thinks you can't handle that… you can leave. Right now."
For a brief heartbeat, silence held. Then, as if the message was tailored just for him, Thorus shifted, his right foot inching toward the exit.
A sudden flash of lightning sizzled near him, making him stumble. "What the ?!" he shouted, eyes wide.
The knight's grin appeared, calm and chilling. "I said you can go," he said smoothly. "But you can try."
Thorus froze, the reality of the challenge and the impossibility sinking in.
They watched poor Thorus freeze, the smell of singed air still crackling where the lightning had struck. In that instant, every single person standing there reached the exact same conclusion:
…We're hostages now.
They were hostages now. Not by ropes or chains, but by a promise and a man who wore a grin like an oath.
It hit them all at once, that same flat, sardonic realization: He's a liar. We're screwed.We are so utterly and stupidly fucked.
It was uncanny like one brain split into a dozen bodies.The story itself seemed to pause.
'Seriously?' a dry voice cut in seemingly appearing out of thin air. 'Do you people share a single brain cell or something? How can you all think the same thing at once?'
A quick, embarrassed throat-clear followed. 'Apologies. Continuing story.'
Everyone blinked, pretending nothing had happened.
Lard, swallowing hard, raised his hand like a schoolboy. "Sir knight… how do we fix this tax problem?"
The knight's face stayed calm. "I could solve it easily," he said, "but I won't. Instead, I'll give you a chance. Think of it as an opportunity from the goddess Solmenis."
Lard squinted. "I hope this isn't some kind of scam."
"I never lie about things like this," the knight replied. His grin sharpened. "But if you fail…"He let the pause hang until it felt heavy."…you'll die."
Silence hit the yard like a hammer. No one moved. No one breathed.
Everyone stared at the knight, stiff as boards.Finally, someone squeaked, "W-wait… die? What do you mean die?"
Another voice followed, trembling. "And how can you even help us? You're broke, right?"
The knight's grin widened, bright and smug. "Broke? Do you really think the Hero Knight of legend walks around penniless? No, no. You're asking the wrong question."He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. "The real question is where's the money?"
A nervous shuffle rippled through the group. "O-okay," Lard managed. "Where… is it?"
The knight straightened and jabbed a thumb toward the distant skyline, his grin practically glowing. "Hidden, of course. Can't lug a mountain of gold while traveling."
Relief flickered until he added, perfectly cheerful, "It's stashed at the very top of the Black Mountain Peak."
A single heartbeat of silence.
Then the entire gang erupted:"WHAT?!""ARE YOU INSANE?!""The peak?!"
A storm of curses followed, echoing off the tavern walls. Even Paul, normally quiet, muttered something about "dragon-bait lunacy."
The knight only laughed, the sound rich and maddening.