He pulled the blade out of the scabbard with minimal force, there was a click sound before the sword came out. He only drew it a few inches out before putting it back in, his eyes locked on the sword, lost in its beauty.
The man's hand moved, resting softly on Riven's shoulder. Riven looked up, his gaze locked with that of the man.
"Kid, what's your name?" he asked.
Immediately the question reached his ear, a wave of conflict washed over him. What should he do? Tell him the truth? Reveal that he was the despised son of the Baron? Wouldn't that dunk this man's perception of him?
The worries of what could happen flooded his mind, but he decided to speak the truth, regardless of what happens after. He wanted to fix his tainted image, and a lie would only be a ticking bomb waiting to go off and shatter his progress.
"My name is Riven Von Grave," he said in a voice calm like the morning breeze.
"Grave?" the man asked, squinting his eyes.
"Yes, I am the fourth son of the Baron," Riven responded in a crisp voice.
"Did you say the fourth son? The one who everyone calls the disgrace of the Grave family?" The boy who had been arranging the crates he scattered stood up and asked.
"Yes, that's me," Riven said. He watched the man, trying to see what expression would follow, but to his dismay, not even the hair on his face moved.
"You don't seem bad though," the boy said, walking out, and going behind the counter.
"I'm different, I'm changed, but my reputation is too tainted, it will take a long while to change people's perspective of me," Riven said, his head bowed down as he looked at the floor.
"Why?" the man asked. Confused by what he heard, Riven looked up again.
"Why do you want to try and make them change their perspective of you?" the man asked, dropping his hands from Riven's shoulder.
Riven opened his mouth in a rush to answer, but then nothing came out. This was the first time he had thought about his plans here, and why he needed to do it.
"Uhm... because I want to change," he said, his voice unsteady like a ship in a storm.
"No, it's not because you want to change, it is because you feel that your change isn't true until people recognize it.
You have tied your betterment to the perspectives of others. People who don't know your struggle or your story shouldn't be the factor that decides if you have changed or not.
The important thing here is you." He placed his finger on Riven's chest as he spoke. "If you believe you have changed, then you have changed, the results will show naturally in their own time." He added, tapping his finger on Riven's chest.
Riven listened to every word that this man said, and every one hit a spot within him. He had always believed that people's perspective was what defined him.
'His voice was always in my head telling me, you are worth nothing, you are a mistake, you good-for-nothing piece of shit.
And for the majority of my life, I tried to somehow show that I was better. But every word kept breaking me down at my failures, breaking me down at even my successes.
That's why I thought, what they think about you matters the most.'
"Kid, kid, you are spacing out." The man grabbed a hold of Riven's shoulder and shook him out of wherever he went.
"I'm sorry, my mind drifted for a moment," Riven said.
"That's fine, now take your armor and put it on," the man said.
Riven nodded and took the armor from the ground and started carefully wearing it, the slipping sound of his arms entering the armor filled the shop.
After a few minutes, he had set everything up. The armor fit like a glove, its sleek design matched his body perfectly.
The armor felt very light on his body, he could still move easily with it, it was perfect.
"Seems I don't need to work on it," the man said.
"Thank you very much for this, the both of you," Riven said, bowing his head to the man and then to the boy. He was about to walk out before he realized something, so he turned around.
"Forgive me asking, but I'd like to know your names," Riven said.
"Oh, yeah, I'm Lucas," the boy at the counter said.
"Dark, you refer to me as Dark. Now be on your way kid, I've spent enough time helping you," Dark said.
"Thank you again, Lucas, sir Dark," Riven said. He took his sword and walked to the door, he pulled it open, the bell rang again and he walked out.
Immediately he left, Dark's eyes squinted, he walked to the door and walked out as well, facing the opposite direction from where Riven had gone.
The roads were filled with people going about their day, different dresses, different footsteps, but Dark was tuned into one footstep.
Suddenly he stretched out his hands, his palm resting on the chest of a passerby, wearing a black hoodie that covered his head.
The figure tried to push past Dark, but he couldn't make the arm budge even a little.
"You have been watching the kid ever since he got to my shop, who are you?" Dark asked, his eyes faced forward, looking at the street in front of him.
The figure could tell he had been discovered, and that was not a good thing. In haste, he tried to retreat, but immediately, Dark grabbed the cloth, putting an immediate stop to the retreat.
"Why are you following the kid? Tell me now, or else, your head will be the anvil for my next sword," Dark said in a voice cold enough to freeze water.
The figure felt sweat drip down his face, no one had made him feel this much pressure before. "I... I am... I am from his guard, sent by his father the Baron," he said.