Though, they didn't speak it out loud, but neither of them wanted to bear the costs and stigma of fighting in public, especially in a place such as this. The price was too steep to pay. Eadweard knew that if for some reason people heard they had fought in a brothel, they would immediately assume that the squabble had been about a prostitute. Both men (especially Eadweard) couldn't have people thinking all that. Besides, that would also incur a lifetime of being banned from 'Spring." Eadweard could endure the stigma, but he definitely couldn't do without his frequent visits to the "Spring"

They trudged on in silence. No one said a thing, not even the usually talkative Eadweard. It truly appeared as if he had done some growing up since his last altercation with Xzavier in public. They soon came up on an empty space of land that was located behind the alley that led to the brothel.

Like a melodramatic showdown between two opposing forces, Xzavier and Eadweard stood on the two opposite sides of the open plot of land. Each man remained stoic, watching the other with the vigilance of a hawk.

Finally, Xzavier broke the ice block with his icy tone.

"I am going to make this real easy for you, did you kidnap Adalia?"

The question shot out of Xzavier's mouth, and hung in the air like a palpable entity. It had the essence of the tension that prevails before a disaster. It was like the short but brief moment of peace that ruled just before nations went to war with each other.

Asides from the fact that Xzavier's accusation was well founded, his question was justified for a bunch of other reasons. If anyone dared to do some research on the Anjou boy's past, a short peek into Eadweard's history would reveal that he was a lad who had a predilection for snatching up young pretty girls. Indeed, he could be likened to the big black hawk which ruled the skies by swooping down on baby chicks and snatching them from their mother hens to be devoured in its nest. This was just the young lad's style.

Like the predatory bird, Eadweard would descend upon these poor girls (whose crime was just being pretty) and train them into walking, breathing sex dolls. The stories that flew around concerning this habit of his were horrendous. His ever present psychotic need to conquer and dominate young pretty girls often drove him into a frenzied state.

Eadweard wasn't like other sex crazed demons who simply wanted to have their desires quenched in the moment, and then move on to the next catch. In a way, he was worse than orcs in this regard. The young prince took depravity to the next level and gave it a whole different meaning. Like birds trapped in a cage, Eadweard would keep these pretty girls locked up for days or even weeks on end.

He didn't see them as human beings, he saw them as pets that were to be trained and bred. Like a collector, he categorized each one in a subset. He would often have them wear different clothes, paint their nails in different colors, or have them wear their hair differently. He might even have a particular girl lose or gain weight by force feeding or starving her for the period his madness lasted. Then, when he was satisfied with his masterpiece, he would then begin his mission.Depending on how or where, or when he wanted it, the young lad would often creep in on them in the middle of the night when they were fast asleep, and **** them bloody all through the night. The cries of these unfortunate girls would ring through the halls of the family's estate all night. And when he was done, he would stagger out in the morning, drunk from taking his fill of their bodies and terror. Leaving the exhausted bodies of his victims behind him, lying still like crocodiles by watering holes, breathing slowly.

After a short period of time, after he had gotten bored with his playthings, he would ruthlessly toss them aside. But by then, the minds of the poor creatures would have been broken. They would have also contacted his drive and taste for good things after getting used in this manner. It was a vicious cycle.

But in this case, as hard as it was to believe, Eadweard was actually innocent of this particular crime! It had all been a big misunderstanding. In a cruel twist of fate, the playboy prince actually had nothing to do with Adalia's recent abduction, and he hadn't harbored any intention of doing that at all!

It turned out Eadweard wasn't as daft as people often made him out to be. He had a clear mental image of what the consequences would be if he tried to kidnap Adalia. The chief reason he couldn't do it was plain enough for anyone to see, the Princy family wasn't to be toyed with. Consequently, because of this, Adalia was off limits to any sane person who was nurturing any kind bad intentions towards the young girl.

It was common knowledge that the beautiful blond maid was the prize of the Princy family. Quaid often trotted her out like a grand prize during home dinners or lunches for gawking eyes to see and admire. In the governor's household, she was held in high regard. Eadweard didn't think all that trouble was worth it. The person he hated the most was Xzavier. He was the one who caused him to lose his dignity as a noble. Xzavier was the one whom he had issues with.

And yet again, somehow, it seemed the Xzavier was going out of his way to have another altercation with him. Eadweard scowled at the other man and thought to himself; 'What exactly is this guy's problem with me?' Eadweard wondered why Xzavier would go through all this trouble just to accuse him falsely. Why now? Especially after all this time? Why?

As he stood across the other stranger, Eadweard recognized the unmistakable cold glare of a determined man who was on a mission. The playboy called to remembrance the look on Xzavier's face from the other day, and knew that this time was different. By the looks of it, the new Baron was for real.

Anyone with half a brain would be able to see that he looked like the villain in this case. Obviously, his own notorious reputation was enough to convict him before any panel. If indeed Xzavier was being honest about the abduction of the Princy maid, then it would be almost impossible to convince him otherwise. Eadweard saw clearly that there really was no way for him to come out unscathed. So, he decided try a different option.

His tone, utterly condescending, he rasped in his nasal affected voice;

"You know, it takes a lot of guts to come back here…"

He began to pace back and forth, as he subtly chided Xzavier.

"…and you decided to come alone?" He shook his head repeatedly and spat,

"All for what? Some maid? You've got to be kidding me!"

Cleverly, he kept his stand on the matter concealed by refusing to commit himself to a confession or a denial. He deftly kept Xzavier in the loop with his clever omissions, and his crafty assertions. Leading Xzavier on, he cocked his head, leaned to the side, and asked cunningly;

"So what then? What would you do if I really did something like that?"

​ He looked Xzavier dead in the eyes as he asked that question. Now it was night time, and the open plot of land behind the brothel was poorly lit, so Xzavier couldn't really see the mischievous look lurking behind the eyes of the Anjou prince. At least, that was what he was going to tell himself much later in the future.

Somehow, Xzavier missed the taunt hidden in the question. It was almost like Eadweard was goading him on, daring him to do something.

But Xzavier was no longer angry. As he stood before the person whom he suspected to be responsible for Adalia's kidnap, he found out that he wasn't as pissed off as he thought he would be. It was possible that Xzavier had finally leaned into the social injustice of this era. It was also possible that he had seen too much to be shocked or angry, or even bitter.

It was as if he was submerged in a cauldron filled with cold water. There was a certain calmness that he could not explain where it sprung from. The blank expression on his face was on par with the deadness of his emotions. Finally, it was as if he no longer expected anything decent from these scum of the earth who were supposed to be the crème of the crème. The time for reasoning was over. It was time to put to do what he had been itching to do for a while now.

So, with a chilling calmness, and in a low voice which sounded like a chant, he summoned his military system;

"Military system, activate the custom black fitting suit…"

In an instant, within the twinkling of an eye, Xzavier was clothed in the deadly, impenetrable regalia that was the ultimate defense. Then, ready for war, he pulled, out his pistol and pointed it at Eadweard. In an indifferent tone that conveyed no emotion whatsoever, he addressed the other guy;

"Alright then, let's have it your way…" he cocked his gun and added in a bland tone;

"Let's talk with our fists."