Chapter 257: Face Slap

Roderick’s fingers hovered just inches from Boren’s collar when an unseen shift rippled through the air. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, and to most, it was barely perceptible. But there was a palpable sense that the next heartbeat wouldn’t belong to him.

Then Valeria moved.

There was no shout, no warning, no drawn-out preparation. One moment she stood three steps away by the pillar; the next, she was beside the counter.

Her motion was so clean and direct that several Adventurers later swore they hadn’t even seen her cross the distance. She caught Roderick’s wrist mid-reach, not roughly or violently, but firmly enough to halt his forward motion as if he had struck a wall.

Roderick blinked in surprise.

He hadn’t anticipated resistance, especially not from a woman who had been quietly standing off to the side like mere decoration.

“Remove your hand,” Valeria said calmly.

Her voice didn’t need to be loud; it carried authority all on its own.

Instinctively, Roderick tried to jerk his arm back, but her grip remained unyielding. Confusion flickered across his face for a moment before anger took over. “Do you know who you’re touching?” he snapped.

Valeria tilted her head slightly. “Yes,” she replied evenly. “A child who reached where he shouldn’t.”

The words hit harder than any slap could have.

The nearest guard reacted first. “Release the young lord!” he barked, stepping forward with his hand flying toward his sword.

But he never completed that motion.

Valeria twisted Roderick’s wrist gently and stepped sideways, using him as a shield between herself and the guards. In one fluid movement, her foot swept across the floor in a smooth arc and struck the guard’s wrist before he could draw his weapon.

The sword flew from his hand, spinning across the wooden floor until it clattered near the Mission Board.

A collective gasp filled the hall.

The second guard lunged forward with fury flashing in his eyes, but Valeria released Roderick just enough to push him backward into his own men. With that single controlled shove, Roderick stumbled and collided with the guard behind him.

Before they could regain their footing, Valeria moved again, her elbow driving into the second guard’s chest with precise timing that knocked the breath from him as he fell back onto a table which cracked under impact, sending cups and coins scattering everywhere.

“Stand down!” roared the guard captain.

Valeria’s gaze turned icy now. “You stand down,” she countered coolly.

The third guard fully unsheathed his blade this time and swung it, not at her neck or heart, but at her shoulder, as if he aimed to restrain rather than kill. Instead of stepping back, she moved inside the swing, her hand snapping up to strike his forearm.

The blade fell from his grasp instantly. With clean efficiency, her knee connected with his stomach. He folded over and collapsed onto the floor.

The fourth guard hesitated for half a second.

That was all Valeria needed.

She seized the front of his armor and pivoted, using his weight against him. Rather than slamming him headfirst or breaking bones, she simply redirected his momentum and tossed him over her hip. He hit the ground with a loud thud that reverberated through the hall.

Silence enveloped the room.

Four guards were down in less than three breaths.

Roderick stood frozen, eyes wide as he took in the sight of his men sprawled across the floor. The Adventurers in the hall had stepped back, not out of fear but to give space.

Some grinned openly; others looked impressed.

One older mercenary near the wall muttered “Clean” under his breath.

Roderick’s pride flared again, desperately trying to mask the crack forming within it.

“How dare you…” he began.

But he never finished that thought.

Valeria stepped forward and slapped him.

It wasn’t a dramatic blow fueled by rage; it was controlled and precise, the kind of slap that carried more insult than injury. The sound echoed through the hall louder than any clash of swords had before.

Roderick’s head snapped to one side as a red mark bloomed on his cheek almost instantly.

Gasps turned into murmurs around them.

Slowly, Roderick turned back toward her, disbelief washing over his features. “You…” he whispered.

Valeria regarded him like a knight would look at a drunken man who tried to punch a warhorse.

“Rank does not grant immunity here,” she said calmly. “This is the Adventurer Guild, not your playground.”

Roderick’s hands trembled slightly; not from pain but from humiliation. He glanced around the hall and what he saw shattered something inside him: Adventurers watching intently, receptionists observing closely, merchants near the door taking in every moment, even civilians who had wandered in to post missions stood frozen, witnessing their City Lord’s son being slapped like an unruly child.

“You will pay for this,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Valeria stepped closer, her voice still quiet yet firm. “You reached for a Guild officer inside his own hall. You ordered violence in a lawful place and insulted staff who have done nothing but their jobs. If anyone pays for this encounter, it will not be us.”

Roderick’s pride attempted to recover itself. “My father will….”

“Your father,” Valeria interrupted sharply, “is not here.”

That sentence cut deeper than the slap.

One of the guards groaned as he tried to push himself up, but an Adventurer stepped forward, placing a boot gently on his shoulder, not crushing, just holding him down.

“Stay,” the Adventurer said calmly. “You’ve already lost.”

Roderick glanced at his men and then at Boren, who hadn’t moved from behind the counter throughout the confrontation.

Boren leaned slightly forward, hands resting on the wood. His voice was calm, but there was no smile now.

“Young Lord Valencrest,” he said, “you came here demanding tribute. You insulted my staff and attempted to grab me in front of everyone. We haven’t broken any laws, you have.”

Roderick clenched his jaw. “You think you’re safe because of this hall?” he spat.

Boren shook his head. “No. We are safe because we are right.”

The words spread quietly through the room.

Valeria stepped aside slightly, giving Roderick space, not to attack but to leave.

“Take your men,” she said.

Roderick lingered for a moment longer, his face flushed and breathing uneven. Then he straightened slowly, forcing dignity back into his posture.

He didn’t look at the Adventurers or the receptionists; his gaze was fixed solely on Boren.

“This isn’t over,” he stated.

Boren replied evenly, “It never is.”

With a sharp turn, Roderick strode toward the exit. His guards struggled to their feet, collecting their fallen weapons with embarrassed movements.

As they reached the doorway, one of the younger Adventurers couldn’t resist muttering loud enough for everyone to hear, “Next time, knock.”

Laughter erupted, not wild or disrespectful but genuine.

The doors closed behind Roderick.

Inside the hall, tension melted away like ice under sunlight.

Mira exhaled slowly and adjusted her sleeves while Selene picked up her fallen ledger and dusted it off. Rosaline bent down to gather scattered coins as if this were just another routine disturbance.

Boren turned to Valeria. “You didn’t have to slap him,” he said quietly.

Valeria met his gaze. “Yes, I did.”

He blinked once before letting out a slow breath. “Fair enough.”

The Adventurers resumed their lively chatter, some laughing and others praising Valeria’s clean takedown.

One exclaimed, “If that’s how strong the Guild’s guard is, I’m staying.”

Another added with enthusiasm, “Riverdale needed that!”

Valeria returned to her spot near the wall and crossed her arms again as if nothing had happened.

The hall found its rhythm once more.

But elsewhere in Riverdale, things felt different.

——-

Inside the City Lord’s manor, Roderick knelt in the center of a polished stone chamber. The red mark on his cheek still lingered, a reminder of recent events. His guards stood behind him, silent and rigid.

At the far end of the room, Lord Arwin Valencrest, the City Lord of Riverdale, sat in a carved wooden chair that resembled a throne but wasn’t quite one. He wore a calm, almost bored expression as he listened to his son recount the incident.

“They assaulted me,” Roderick said, his voice tight with anger. “In front of merchants. In front of warriors. They humiliated our house.”

Arwin didn’t interrupt; instead, he folded his hands together and kept his gaze steady on Roderick’s face. When Roderick finished speaking, silence hung in the air for several heartbeats.

“And you reached for the Guild officer first?” Arwin asked.

Roderick hesitated before answering. “He insulted our authority.”

“And you struck first?” his father pressed.

“…Yes.”

Arwin leaned back slightly in his chair. “You took four household guards,” he said slowly, “to intimidate a public Guild hall. You demanded tribute and ordered force and you were defeated.”

Roderick’s jaw tightened at that admission. “By a woman.”

Arwin’s eyes flickered with interest. “By a Knight,” he corrected gently.

Another silence followed as they both absorbed this reality.

Finally, a faint smile touched Arwin’s lips, not one of anger or outrage but rather intrigue. “So,” he murmured almost to himself, “the Guild thinks it has teeth.”

Roderick looked up sharply at this comment. “Father….”

But Arwin raised a hand to silence him and turned his gaze toward the window overlooking Ashford Quarter.

“Good,” he said quietly, as if contemplating new possibilities ahead.

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