The sudden sound of the door opening aggressively startled everyone inside as it crashed into the wall, the hinges creaking like the cries of mourning, an omen of sorrow and misery yet to come.
Agitated, the patrons and the staff of the tavern instantly reached for their weapons, jolting upright, sweat accumulating on their brows, and their spines chilled with shivers.
They gulped, bracing themselves for the worst. The drunkards had collapsed to the floor, while some, those still conscious, followed the others and clutched their weapons with tense, twitching fingers.
Yet, to their dismay, the perpetrator refused to enter immediately.
The dread settled even heavier.
They swallowed their dry throats again.
Max deliberately took his time, just enough to make an impression, but not too much.
Just enough to overwhelm the men inside, to ensure they wouldn't dare to mark him as prey for extortion or bullying.
He stepped into the tavern.
His heavy steps, each enforced with strength, slammed onto the floorboards, each stomp echoing like thunder, crashing through the walls of the tavern with palpable force.
The people inside heard the steps first. Then, gradually, his hands, face, and full visage graced their line of sight.
His figure, wrapped in attire fit for nobility, complete with weapons hanging from his belt, made them scowl, but they hesitated to act.
Their hesitation stemmed from the inevitable wait for the young man's guards.
However, even after some belated movements, none appeared.
They frowned hard. Their previous panic led to this: a young noble reaching out where he shouldn't be.
Earlier, some assumed a brutish captain had initiated a raid. Others figured some heavily armed noble had decided to dine with them; however, jokes on them turned out to be just a young lad wanting to test the world beyond his mother's gowns.
Their irritation flared. The sudden disruption had them on edge, and the alarms ringing in their minds killed the taste and pleasure of rum on their tongues.
One man stood up abruptly, a threatening expression shadowing his face.
He roared with his sword pointing at Max, "Ye boy! This ain't no place for champs still drinkin' from their mother'steats!"
A twisted smile curled on his lips as he eyed Max from head to toe.
"Hmmm… I wanted to gut you alive, but… your flesh—aye, I've got some uses for it now."
A hearty, disgusting cackle burst from his mouth, and following his words, the rest of the tavern revealed their intentions through venomous glares aimed squarely at Max.
Max had driven their madness higher with his aggressive entrance.
Their parched throats and frustrated tension couldn't stand the silence.
No one likes to be rattled so suddenly, panicked to death, however, when they learned the intruder was just some young master of a noble family, apparently alone, they decided to give him a taste of their hospitality.
However, their hopes were dashed soon after.
BOOM—!
A thunderous sound resounded in the tavern. The jubilant chaos suddenly sank. Some fell to the floor again, stunned. The rest widened their eyes, their breath hitched and stuck in their throats.
Thud!
The man who had threatened Max with foul words collapsed to the floor like a kite with its string cut.
Everyone in the tavern turned their eyes to him. A gaping hole had been torn through his chest, blood seeping out and drenching both him and the floor beneath.
Worse, the man's eyes were still wide open, as if in disbelief that he had just died so suddenly.
The patrons of the tavern gulped, then heard Max's voice for the first time.
It was charming and magnetic, laced with languid ease and a whisper of menace.
"Ah. My hand slipped. Would someone like to finish what he was saying?"
Their gazes snapped to Max.
He calmly turned, breathing in the smoke curling from his pistol.
If thoughts could speak, the whole crowd would've slandered him: 'How can someone's hand slip and still land a shot so perfectly?'
Regretfully, none voiced that accusation.
The young, proud fool they had deemed prey had turned out to be a tiger with maddening intentions.
A gleam of crazy frenzy sparkled in Max's eyes, making them wary and hesitant to initiate any conflict.
It's not like they were about to die from heart attacks caused by Max's thunderous entrance, right?
He was just some young man riding high on adrenaline.
They consoled themselves through glances, silently saying, 'I'm not afraid. Just being cautious.'
'You're lucky, kid. I'm not in the mood for blood today.'
Everyone shared that same thought.
As they turned to sit again, they noticed each other doing the same and flinched.
Each man caught the other's expression and understood.
Agreeing silently to a tactical retreat, they nodded firmly, hoping to preserve their reputations.
Enduring the embarrassment creeping up their faces, they scoffed at Max as if what had happened hadn't even fazed them.
They all took their seats again and began to drink, trying to reignite the chaos, though their eyes remained fixed on Max, waiting for any opportunity.
He looked like walking wealth, ripe for picking, if only they weren't terrified of being the next one bleeding out.
They backed off since he didn't hesitate to kill, and none of them wanted to get hurt just to reap uncertain benefits.
But if an opportunity arose, they would strike.
Their greed was clear, but their fear of death was stronger.
'Plan successful.'
Max heaved a sigh of relief inwardly, though his face remained cold.
The tavern owner warily stepped forward, scolding his customers inwardly for their rash behaviour, while presenting himself as meek and subservient.
He kept a forced smile for Max.
"Sire… welcome to my humble place," he said, voice shaky but forced into cheerfulness.
His greasy face and dark, rotten teeth evoked a disgusting image.
Max frowned in disgust, swallowing his rebuke, and keeping a stern face.
"Show me a table," he ordered flatly.
The owner rubbed his hands together, his blackened teeth fully exposed for everyone to see.
"Yes, yes, right this way."
They both stomped toward the empty spot, Max brooding over the next part of the plan in his head.
….
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