The sound echoed sharply in the relatively quiet street. Lloyd hadn't held back. His hand connected squarely with the leader's cheek, snapping the youth's head to the side with surprising force. A bright red handprint instantly bloomed on the stunned bully's face.
Silence descended. The two flanking hoodlums gaped, jaws slack. The harassed girls stared, wide-eyed. Even a few passersby stopped, drawn by the sudden violence. The leader slowly turned his head back, eyes wide with disbelief and burgeoning fury, one hand gingerly touching his stinging cheek.
"You… you hit me?" he stammered, incredulous.
Lloyd calmly lowered his hand, flexing his fingers slightly. Adrenaline spiked, but he kept his voice level, adopting the slightly condescending tone of a disappointed teacher addressing unruly students. A tone perfected over decades of dealing with obstinate lab assistants, army juniors and clueless interns on Earth.
"Indeed," Lloyd confirmed coolly. "Consider it a practical lesson in cause and effect. The cause? Your deplorable behaviour towards these young ladies. The effect?" He gestured towards the leader's rapidly swelling cheek. "That."
He took a step closer, ignoring the leader's sputtering rage and the nervous shifting of the other two. "Furthermore," Lloyd continued, launching into the bonus objective with relish, "allow me to elucidate on the fundamental principles of social decorum within a civilized society."
He clasped his hands behind his back, adopting a lecturing posture. "Firstly, impeding the progress of fellow citizens, particularly those clearly weaker or attempting to avoid confrontation, is indicative of poor breeding and a profound lack of character. Secondly, verbal harassment, while perhaps not drawing blood, inflicts wounds upon dignity and safety, marking the perpetrator as little more than a boorish lout."
He fixed his gaze on the stunned leader. "Thirdly, and perhaps most pertinently to your immediate future, choosing to engage in such reprehensible activities directly in front of identifiable members of the Ducal household," he subtly inclined his head towards the stoic Ken Park, whose gaze alone seemed to make the hoodlums shrink, "demonstrates a level of foolishness bordering on the suicidal. Do you comprehend the potential ramifications?"
The three youths stood frozen, mouths opening and closing like stranded fish. The leader's fury was rapidly being replaced by dawning fear as Lloyd's words, coupled with Ken Park's silent menace, sank in. They knew exactly who Lloyd was, and more importantly, who Ken Park was. Retaliation was unthinkable.
Murmurs rippled through the small crowd of onlookers. Shock gave way to hesitant nods, even a few quiet words of approval.
"Served him right!"
"About time someone taught those pests a lesson."
"Young Lord Ferrum? Didn't expect that from him…"
"Did you hear that lecture? Sounded like my old tutor!"
Lloyd surveyed the scene – the terrified girls now slipping away gratefully, the humiliated hoodlums practically vibrating with impotent rage and fear, the surprised but approving onlookers. Mission accomplished.
He gave the leader one last, pitying look. "I suggest you find a more constructive, and considerably less hazardous, way to occupy your time. Good day."
Without waiting for a reply, Lloyd turned crisply and resumed his walk towards Master Elmsworth's establishment, Ken falling into step silently behind him.
As they moved away, the system notification popped up again, confirming his success.
[Task Complete: Public Nuisance Correction]
[Reward Issued: 2 System Coins (SC)]
[Current Balance: 5 SC]
[Note: Eloquent lecturing skills noted. System reminds User that physical correction is often faster.]
Lloyd permitted himself another small, internal chuckle. Five coins. Halfway there. And all it took was feeding a wolf, surviving his wife's wrath, slicing up furniture, and slapping a bully while delivering a pompous lecture. This journey back through his own life was proving stranger, and potentially more lucrative, than he could ever have imagined. Now, about those export duties…
The lecture hall designated for Master Elmsworth's exclusive tutelage was precisely as Lloyd remembered: oppressively quiet, smelling faintly of old parchment and beeswax polish, and dominated by a large, dark oak table scarred by generations of bored noble youths doodling arcane symbols or insults about their tutors. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick, leaded glass windows, casting long, dusty beams across the room.
Master Elmsworth, known colloquially (and never to his face) as Master Elm, stood waiting near a large slate board covered in neat, spidery chalk figures. He was a thin man with thinning grey hair combed severely across his scalp, spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his sharp nose. He radiated an aura of dry intellectualism and barely concealed impatience, like a walking, talking textbook perpetually annoyed at being opened. A few other young nobles, looking varying degrees of uninterested, were already seated.
Ken Park, ever the silent sentinel, remained stationed outside the heavy oak door, his presence an unspoken reminder of Lloyd's status, even if that status felt decidedly shaky most days.