CHAPTER 173: CHAPTER 173 | FLEETING PEACE

The noise of soldiers laughing, teasing each other, and clashing their mugs together rolled across the courtyard like a small storm, creating this warm and lively atmosphere that didn’t match the cold evening air. Jinn walked through the center of it all, weaving past groups of infantrymen who were already deep into their food and drinks. He didn’t rush, nor did he slow down—he simply kept moving, letting the sound wash over him.

A few maids and butlers stopped what they were doing when they noticed him, their eyes following him with cautious curiosity. Even some of the soldiers paused mid-sentence or mid-bite, confused as to why someone like him—a Scion, a figure who belonged among the nobles—was walking around the common banquet instead of inside the Royal Palace where the chandeliers and golden plates awaited the high-ranking guests.

Of course, none of them knew the truth.

No one called his name.

They simply closed the doors.

Jinn ignored every stare and whisper, letting them fade into the background as he kept walking, mug in hand. Eventually, he reached the far end of a long table—crowded with older veterans and younger fighters who were exchanging loud stories, trading jokes, and laughing like they had nothing to worry about in this life. But the moment Jinn stepped into the small open space beside them, everything stopped.

Their voices cut off.

Their chuckles died down.

Several pairs of eyes widened in shock, like they had just seen a commander appear out of nowhere. Even the smell of roasted sirloin and spices seemed to freeze around them.

"S-Scion...!" an old, burly man with a tangled beard finally managed to say. He stood so fast his chair nearly toppled over, his hand snapping up in a salute.

"W-What brings you here, sir?"

A chain reaction followed.

More soldiers stood.

A few straightened their uniforms.

Even the younger ones scrambled up nervously, unsure if they should bow or salute or just stop breathing.

"Don’t mind me," Jinn said as he lifted one hand lazily, almost telling them to relax. His expression remained calm—cold, but not unfriendly—before he eased himself onto one of the stools. "I’m just here to waste some time, that’s all."

He took another drink from the mug, the taste of ale hitting his tongue—strong, cheap, and surprisingly refreshing.

"O-Of course, Scion!" an older female soldier said quickly. She slid herself aside to create a generous amount of space for him, even though she was already at the edge of the bench.

Jinn didn’t comment on it.

He simply placed his mug on the table and let out a small breath, choosing the noise of real people—honest, rough, sometimes messy people—over the polished lies waiting behind the palace doors.

He then observed his surroundings with the usual calm expression he emits, not really paying attention to anyone in particular, yet he still noticed how the entire mood of the place shifted the moment he sat down.

The soldiers who had been laughing loudly just minutes ago suddenly spoke in much quieter tones, their chatter becoming quieter and turning more into soft murmurs due to his presence alone. Even the way they ate changed, their movements turned slower, a bit stiffer, like they were trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

Who wouldn’t be uncomfortable in such a situation?

The very warrior, apprentice of a battlemaster, sat beside them to dine.

The very warrior who obliterated enemy soldiers with eyes... and they were there, witnessing it all.

Still, none of them dared to approach him or even start a proper conversation. Jinn simply lifted his gaze upward, watching the sky darken more and more as the evening swallowed the last sliver of daylight.

Peace

Jinn thought, letting the word echo subtly within his mind.

For a very brief moment, for one small and quiet minute, he allowed himself to enjoy that rare stillness.

That peace, however, didn’t last much long.

*Thud!

A heavy arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulder, an almost casual gesture as if someone who knew him a long time approached him.

"Hey there, Scion!" the man barked with a rough almost lazy tone, clearly drowning in ale.

*clack!

He subtly slammed his mug against Jinn’s own with enough force to spill a bit of the drink on the table, grinning as he leaned in.

"Fancy seein’ ya here!" the man continued.

The thick stench of alcohol swirled off from the man’s breath and hit Jinn directly, though he didn’t flinch or react as he kept his calm demeanor.

"Eeek! Jordan, what the fuck are you doing...!?" another soldier hissed nervously as he swiftly grabbed the drunk man’s other arm, trying to pull him away from Jinn as quickly as possible, slightly afraid as to what Jinn might do to his friend.

"I—I apologize on his behalf, Scion. He’s drunk out of his mind, he doesn’t know what he’s doing! Dammit Jordan..." his voice evidently filled with a worryful tone.

Yet, to their surprise, Jinn didn’t feel or react with anger.

If anything, the whole thing reminded him of Verhedyn back in the Orphanage—how that idiot would pester him in the exact same ways, always clinging to him, always snickering, and always annoying to the core.

The memory tugged at him gently, enough to make a small and subtle sirk appear on his lips.

He lifted his mug and took another long swig of the ale before subtly setting it back down on the table.

"Worry not, there is no need to apologise for such things," Jinn said softly, his voice steady, clear, and sincere as he reached for a piece of the loaf lying just in front of him on a plate.

He tore off a chunk of the hard bread and lifted it to his mouth.

"I’m just a soldier like all of you. Nothing more, nothing less." He bit into the bread, it’s rough and solid texture cracking faintly between his teeth as he continued eating without a hint of offense