"Neil, stand still!"
A boy dressed in striped noble attire shouted.
He looked about fifteen or sixteen, with narrow eyes and a high nose bridge. His brown hair slightly reddened in the sunlight.
There were also freckles on both sides of his cheeks.
The boy called "Neil" was of similar age but wore only a plain white coarse linen shirt, with golden hair, and both he and his clothes were covered in dirty mud.
"Yes, Master Fork."
Neil lowered his head, took a deep breath, and stood still, gritting his teeth.
Bam!
The wooden stick hit Neil's thigh heavily and snapped in response.
Neil screamed in agony and fell to the ground, splashing into the mud.
His face turned red with pain, veins protruding on his forehead, his mouth smeared with the stench of muddy dirt, along with some grass.
The excited laughter of Master Fork echoed in his ears.
