Eadweard's words fell on Cadence's ears like salt on an earthworm. Moved by sheer disgust and destructive anger, Cadence rushed towards Eadweard with an outstretched palm and struck the earl squarely on the jaw. The look on the playboy's face was priceless. It wasn't so much about the pain as it was about the shock that followed. The slap had been delivered with all the annoyance and pain of a bereaved. Cadence spared no strength. He had given it his all.

Cadence's reaction surprised everyone. But most especially, Eadweard. The young lad was an impressionable young man. He absorbed everything like a sponge. That was why Eadweard's words shook him in that manner.

To a noble like Eadweard who had never been smacked in his life, this represented the ultimate disrespect. In that moment, he knew what it meant to be an ordinary person. He saw the gulf between his nobility and peasantry close up like a zipper merging two different sides together. He wasn't in the least bit happy about it. He felt the rage churning up within him like a swelling tide. It rose and rose until he could not ignore it any longer.

Too shocked for words, he found himself repeatedly saying

"How dare you?! How dare you?!!!"

Finally, he got himself and decided to charge at the young male.

"You brat!! I will make sure your hands never touches anything else again! Come here you punk…"

Eadweard was a real coward. He was so comfortable with attacking people smaller than him, as well as picking on little defenseless girls who hadn't the strength or ability to fight back. Just as he was about to get hold of the impudent Cadence, he felt a massive hand grab his throat like he was a chicken that needed to be put in its cage.

The young aristocrat wasn't used to being manhandled in this manner. Before he could say 'jack,' he found himself pinned by the neck to the ground, gasping for breath. Like a fish that had just been pulled out of the water and dropped on land, struggled to free himself from the hand holding him against his will. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw clearly that Xzavier was behind this assault. His cold voice issued him a stern warning;

"You won't be striking anyone here today Eadweard. Don't even try to move."Eadweard was horrified. It was an unthinkable abomination for anyone to lay a hand on an earl. Embarrassing him in public was one thing, but roughing him up like he was a commoner was something Eadweard would never forgive.

But Eadweard rage was nothing near Xzavier's rage. It was almost impossible to miss it. Xzavier was blinded by the emotional turmoil burning inside him. The thought of Adalia meeting a horrible end at the hand of a person like Eadweard made Xzavier boil with fury. All of these thoughts and emotions paved the way for what happened next.

Without even thinking, still reeling in mournful bitterness and rage, Xzavier used his free hand to expertly free his saber from its sheath. He was barely thinking at the time. It was as if his body was on auto pilot. Even in the dark, the wicked blade glistened dangerously. There was no force on earth that could have separated Xzavier from his prey in that instant. With the chilling precision of a well-trained killer, he moved to slash the throat of the playboy.

Nothing prepared Eadweard for this. He had overplayed his hand and gotten the full recompense for his folly. As the blood gushed out of his neck and floated down his garments, Eadweard slowly began to realize that Xzavier might actually go through with his threat. There was no describing Eadweard's shock and terror in that moment. All his life, he never had to worry about being murdered. This had given him a confidence that made him feel invincible.

And yet, clear as day, he could almost feel his life force draining from him as Xzavier's overbearing weight kept him pinned down, denying him the gratification of even dodging the blade. Eadweard closed his eyes as he prepared for the worst. Xzavier had proven to be a real mad man. He was the definition of a true wildcard. There was no one in the realm that was crazy enough to kill an earl. The repercussions were just not worth it. Justice wouldn't just end at taking the killer's life. His or her entire family would be wiped out, their organs removed and displayed for all to see.

Clearly, the newly promoted Baron didn't seem to care.

Just as the Saber was about to make contact with Eadweard's throat, what felt like a divine intervention occurred. A very strong force grabbed Xzavier's hand just as the deed was about to be completed. It was a very narrow escape.

Xzavier's dark eyes flashed dangerously. Who dared to stand in the way of his vengeance? He cocked his head in the direction of the intruder, hungry to find out who had robbed him of his justice. The gentle form of the senior mage registered in his brain as he soon as he set eyes on him. Laddie's gentle but firm grip on Xzavier's arm spoke of his intentions even before the words came.

"Xzavier!" he chided him sharply. "Calm down! Killing an earl in public is no small crime! Take a breather and step back son."

But there was no letting go. Eadweard was like a swan in the mouth of a crocodile. There was nothing that was going to make Xzavier set him free after the atrocity he had just confessed to. He didn't care that the young prince was an earl. And he made that very clear to Laddie.

"I don't care!" Xzavier growled angrily. His voice was full of sorrowful bitterness. "To hell with the stupid laws! To hell with this fool! I only care about Adalia!"The last part came out without Xzavier even realizing it. These were words that he would never utter on a regular day. But the news of Adalia's death had triggered something in him. And consequently, the words burst out and flowed like a dam that had been let loose.

The clattering of multiple feet on the ground disrupted the showdown between the old man and Xzavier. Laddie didn't seem perturbed by the new arrival. He kept his eyes locked on the other man he was trying to dissuade. Xzavier however couldn't resist the urge to look. He turned his gaze towards the small company that had only just recently appeared out of the corner of his eye.

The first person he recognized was Earlene. She took her place at the head of the small band, ushering them in her usual commanding tone. Xzavier glazed over the others behind her and waved them off as some the household servants.

"Great…" he thought to himself, "For heaven's sake, how am I supposed to break this news to Earlene?"

He was so lost in his own small world of grief that he never imagined even for a second that maybe, just maybe, Earlene was the one with news. Just as he was about to peel his eyes away from the new arrival, a very familiar figure caught his eye. Not daring to hope, Xzavier revolted against what was clearly before his eyes.

"No! It can't be! It can't be!"

Right behind Earlene, his eyes caught a glance of the golden mane that was the crown of Adalia's head. Like a dream vividly unfolding, Adalia stepped out and revealed herself to the doubting Xzavier.

Xzavier was astounded! He couldn't believe it! Was he seeing a ghost? Was everyone else seeing her? And if they were, why weren't they all acting surprised? Was this magic? All these doubting questions attacked Xzavier's mind, leaving him with even more questions. What the hell was happening here? Xzavier was a pretty smart man. But he almost always leaned towards the worst side of things. That was why, in all his calculative questions, it never occurred to him to think that maybe Adalia was truly alive!

It was all simple really. After Adalia had been kidnapped by the bandits, they rode to their hideout and kept her bound in ropes. The whole time, Adalia had been scared. She had also believed that Eadweard was the mastermind behind her capture. She was very much aware of his reputation for kidnapping and using young girls. So, alone with her thoughts, sealed away in a remote part of the city, Adalia began to assume the worst.

"So, is this how I will end up? A sex doll for that crazy deranged lunatic?"

She spat in disgust.

"No way!"

Refusing to accept the cards that fate had dealt her, she immediately began to plot her escape. She reviewed her surrounding and immediately discerned that she was in some kind of barn. She listened for voices and heard a few masculine voices coming from the opposite side of the wall. She quickly sprung to her feet and began to work on setting herself free of the ropes. Her hands were small, and her captors had been very lazy in the tightening of her ropes.

So, in no time, she wriggled free of her bands and turned to the window. The bars were slim and would normally be too small for any man to pass through. Adalia simply took one look at it and she knew that she would be able to pass through it. Within a jiffy, she successfully emerged from the other side and dropped on the lonely street. Without even as much as a glance, she sped off with a quickness, leaving her captors behind, completely oblivious of her escape.