Affordable Lessons (Vandrad/Open to Spectators)

Vandrad was not a hero, at least, he didn’t believe he was one. The standards that people painted about heroic types were so… beyond his comprehension. He saw no advantage in going out of his way to save people that were perfectly capable of saving themselves, or so he told himself. Strength had always been a powerful motivator for the Prince of Bellum and he had honestly believed at his core that to survive in this world, you had to be willing to put in the work. But he also knew that people were perfectly capable of reaching a lot in life and staying there, undesirous to push themselves further. That wasn’t necessarily for him but he held no disrespect towards those that had found a station and chose to get off. If they had found happiness, then all the power to them.

But there was definitely one thing that turned him into a protector and it was the smug, arrogant slime that believed they were superior to others. Having been raised in the courts of Bellum, he knew very well what a person with an inflated opinion of themselves looked like. Bubbles of unwarranted confidence that seemed to float above the masses, scoffing and mumbling insults at how common they were in comparison to themselves. His family had always been humble and only shook their weight around for greater purposes of the realm. It had been all too evident when Sabine had been in Bellum that anyone that tried to act superior to others was going to find themselves lacking at the end of the day.

Vandrad hadn’t expected to find that kind of attitude in Fiore -- at least, nothing too familiar to the royal galas of Bellum. Fairy Tail especially seemed to be more of a warm and welcoming home that brought in anyone that was willing to be loyal and work for their own care. Up to that point, all the members of Fairy Tail he had met had been friendly, forward and warm -- traits he didn’t embody himself but respected when it came to operating as both a guild and a business. He didn’t have any inkling of worried thoughts as he came into the guild hall, looking less worn than he usually did after a job. He walked up to the business counter and put the job flier down for the fairies, so that they could mark it off as complete. "Thanks,” he said to the being that took it from him, giving her a nod of gratitude. No one would accuse the Prince of being overly friendly ever but he was hardly ever spitting out insults, unless Mercury happened to be visiting.

A loud crash caught his attention, his head swiveling over to look in the direction of the bar area, directly behind him. One of the waitresses had unfortunately had a bit of a tumble and spilled some wine on another one of the members of the guild. The man was, besides being wetted crimson, was another male that seemed far more pretty than butch. Truthfully, Vandrad wondered if he was one of the male sort that modeled on the side with wizardry being his main occupation. But seeing as he didn’t know the man personally, he let out a small breath and started to turn his attention back towards the fairies working. His mind was working its way towards what he wanted to do for dinner when a small yelp caught his attention, bringing his gaze back around.

The woman had been trying to clean up the mess she had made but her attempts had been stopped by a forceful grasp of her wrist. The man she had accidently spilled wine onto was looking at her with such a look of fury that it was palpable in the air. But it wasn’t just that of having his outfit stained -- no, there was something deeper and more carnal in his eyes as they stared forward in almost unbelievable rage. The first words out of his mouth were full of a toxin so wretched that even Vandrad felt the savagery in them, as he insulted her both in Minstrel-speak and Common. He demanded to know if she truly understood how much the suit he was wearing cost, his head raising to look at her sharply. Before she could even answer, his other hand was snapping up to grab her by the collar and yanking her towards him, the girl barely managing to stay on her toes.

Louie. She called him Louie as she apologized, the name registering in the deepest, darkest recesses of Vandrad’s mind as his body instinctively turned to face what was happening. The man continued, tearing into her with the words of a superior belittling a commoner. He demanded to know how he would be repaid, rattling off insults at her like it was second nature and, even worse, acceptable.

The Prince was seething between clenched teeth, only halted when another man spoke up and attempted to disarm the situation before it got worse. All he got was vitriol shot in his direction for his efforts. Louie paused, apparently becoming painfully aware of just how much of a spectacle he was making. Finally he released the waitress, the poor girl falling to the ground. If all that wasn’t bad enough, if he hadn’t already said enough to make a miniscule mistake worse, Louie managed to collect himself and then, as a departing comment, he suggested the woman kill herself as perhaps the most minor recompense for her transgression.

He wouldn’t get very far as he tried to leave. "Hey asshole,” Vandrad roared, silencing the already stunned room further. Fire spat from his eyes as he glared at his fellow guildmate, seeing past the pretty outside to the disgusting inside of Louie. He pushed himself from the business counter, walking directly into Louie’s path. "Allow me to get familiar, écume. If you think you’re going to walk out of here after that disgusting showcase, your ugly, arrogant face is going to get very familiar with the ground while I drag you wailing through the streets of Magnolia. You’re going to weasel yourself back over to that girl, apologize for being an insufferable, disgusting, useless mistake of a man and beg her forgiveness. Or this,” and as he said it, he reached out and tore the lapel right off the suit in one swift motion, sending it flying against the wall with a wet, wine-soaked splat.

"Is the least of what I’m going to do to you.”

Louie certainly tried to get a word in edgewise, clearly still intent on spilling his venom to any that got in his way. Apparently something Vandrad had said, or perhaps just the motion of actually getting in his way, brought a swift silence to his objection. There was a look of disbelief on the pretty man’s facade as the Prince tore into him, viciously demanding reparations for the waitress or offering thinly veiled threats as rewards for ignoring the ultimatums. Vandrad topped it off by grabbing the lapel of Louie’s suit and tearing it off so neatly, one might have thought it came sans a single strip of fabric in the first place. The only evidence of its existence was the wet piece of cloth that was sliding down the wall of the building, destined to flop uselessly on the ground.

Vandrad could feel the rage from the man -- it was even more choking than it had been before. But his own emotions were burning just as bright, clashing against the invisible aura of fury and pushing back with the same gusto. Vandrad stood there, stoic as ever, watching Louie’s veins visibly throb, raised on his flesh like tiny colored spiders buried beneath his skin. The pretty boy’s head fell, his locks framing his face in such a way that it cast a dark, ominous shadow. Was he intentionally trying to be intimidating or was that some side effect of whatever magic he had? A moment later Louie’s head rose again, fixating his cold but somehow still burning rubies upon the black onyx gems of Vandrad. He laughed, the kind of guffaw that one held when they needed to deem someone unworthy. The Prince knew it quite well. His chuckles continued before he asked if he truly meant him, asked if he was supposed to apologize to the waitress, which he so lovingly referred to as a thing.

He laughed at the notion even stronger this time, reaching up to push his hair back. For a brief second, Vandrad was sure the pretty boy wasn’t about to do something extremely stupid and would just break into an angry tirade. That would have worked out far better for him. But the instant the golden magic circle took form, the Prince understood that Louie had almost certainly cracked. An exquisite rapier of the finest make, crafted out of pure gold, appeared in Louie’s hand, its radiance juxtaposed against the pretty boy with almost angelic grace. Then came the strike -- a furious stab with the intent of piercing Vandrad through the throat and ending the battle before it even began.

Vandrad slid to the side, the sharpened point passing through the air where his neck had just been and missing his flesh by mere centimeters. At the same time, his arm shot out in a heavy punch, looking to catch the off balance pretty boy square in the stomach. He would follow through with his punching motion, his intent to send Louie flying back into the doors that led out to Magnolia. His aura roared to life, engulfing him in gold and crimson flames that seeped into his hair and eyes, imbuing them with a sheen not unlike a pure ruby. If Louie had managed to hit the door and fall through, he would find another kick aimed for his stomach. If the doors managed to hold against his weight, the poor lad could potentially be on the receiving end of a hard tackle, ripping the doors off of their hinges even as it was reduced to splinters.

The Prince of Bellum would disappear for a quick moment, only to materialize several feet away from Louie. But the angered look on his face was gone -- now there was one of amusement and excitement. The bloodlust that he kept down outside of battle had awakened. "I was hoping you’d be as stupid as you look. With everyone watching, you attacked me first. Now whatever I do to you… it was in self defense.”

“And I’m going to do a lot to you, couchon”

Vandrad set his stance a bit away from Louie, his body easily shifting into a defensive one as he eyed the pretty boy. To his credit, the maniac had taken a punch to the gut and then another kick to the same spot and then had broken through the doors and forced them to swing the opposite way of their prime direction. Still, Louie managed to land on his feet, using his rapier as a foundation to keep himself from toppling over. The Prince delivered his words and was retorted quickly, the pretty boy claiming that he deserved to die. "Tsk,” Vandrad scoffed in amusement as the rapier snapped up to point at him. "If you think so high and mighty of yourself, then fine. I’ll give you one free shot. But I’m warning you; you better not throw it away.” He kept his on-guard stance but he didn’t budge as the man broke into a tirade, once more placing himself upon a pedestal above Vandrad and anyone else that deigned to be anywhere near them. And they had accumulated quite the audience, both from inside Fairy Tail and from passersby as well.

Louie finished up his spiel with yet another alternative insult and then a magic circle sparked to life beneath his feet. Vandrad had only a moment to look down before the spikes came soaring up from the cobblestone, the sharp creations slamming into his stomach, his arm and into his leg. From a certain standpoint, he looked well and skewed, with his armor cracked and crumbling around the spike in his torso and the jumpsuit on his limbs torn. There was even a heavy trickle of blood that ran down each barb, indicating that Vandrad had, in fact, taken some damage from it.

He stood there, his eyes shadowed as his head hung over his chest. Louie continued to rant and rave, calling him disgusting, painting himself as a victim and titling the Prince as a barbarian. "You stupid fool,” Vandrad hissed, his aura crackling to life once more around him. It flared up so distinctively that it ripped the spikes that had pierced themselves into his body to shreds, revealing the wounds beneath. Already his energy was working to heal the injuries, closing the bloody gaps. Vandrad’s head lifted to meet Louie’s, his own crimson eyes fuming with indignant disgust. "You attack an innocent girl, tell her to end her own life over a measly accident and you have the gall to call me a barbarian?” He kicked through the spikes in front of him as he marched towards Louie, hatred dripping from every word. "I’ve dealt with slobbering, gibbering oafs like you before. You paint yourself in this elegant light to hide just how truly disgusting you are. You pretty yourself up to hide the ugly, repulsive trash beneath the skin. Not even your magic is worthy of my time. That was your one shot and you wasted it.”

He thrust a hand out, unleashing a beam of magic straight at Louie’s chest. But before it would even come within the proximity of the pretty boy, it would disintegrate into glittering particles. Yet Vandrad was gone, having teleported from his spot to behind Louie, his leg snapping out as he swung it down and in, aiming to trip the man and leave him displaced in the air for a moment. But it was a moment that the Prince would act upon, swinging both his arms down, clasped together at the hands, to attempt to slam Louie into the ground, further destroying the cobblestone street they had wound up on.

Electricity crackled around Vandrad’s form as he glared down at his guild mate, snorting through a vile sneer. "I’m going to do you a favor, pretty boy. Since you went through all the effort of getting yourself dolled up, I’m going to help you show the world who you truly are. I will drag your face against the street, against buildings, against gravel, until it is nothing but blood and bone. I will rip away the facade and show this world who you truly are underneath. You want to be the victim -- I’ll make you a victim.”

This really shouldn’t have been as cathartic as it was, but there was no denying that beating the blond idiot was releasing years of pent up aggravation. For so long, the Prince had been forced to keep his tongue clamped around the higher society, his limits drawn by his mother based on who her guests were. It wasn’t that Themescyia was all accepting -- even the Duchess knew when and where to put a person in their place. But as her son, it was understood that Vandrad had to show some level of manners for people that were invited to court. And so many of them were so pompous, so full of themselves, such utter disgusting, wastes of flesh and human spirit. The world would be better without them but murder on that scale wasn’t acceptable, even for Vandrad. All he really wanted was to tear out their foundations and knock them down to their basest forms.

He was getting that opportunity now with Louie. It was evident that there was no mercy, no shred of respect ebbing off of the Prince for the pretty boy. Vandrad was capable of acknowledging skill even in his enemies and would have normally remarked about Louie’s ability to negate the magic wave coming at him. But he wasn’t even going to bother commending the boy with that; he’d earned all the ire and disrespect in the world and there wasn’t place for even a seedling of appreciation to be planted. The Prince of Bellum knocked Louie to the ground, causing further damage to the pretty boy’s body and to the cobblestone street he struck. It was there that Louie glared up at him, listening as Vandrad explained in detail exactly what he planned to do. He was going to scar the pompous wench for good, shred his facial flesh until it was gone and leaving him as ugly as his soul was.

Louie, of course, took offense to the very notion. He insisted that Vandrad wouldn’t dare, berating the Prince as nothing. He compared the two of them, in some weak attempt to gain the superiority high ground, despite sinking down to base and pathetic insults. Louie was damn well sure that if Vandrad were to even put a single digit on the boy’s face, his life would be over -- a remark that Louie backed up by saying he would ensure that very conclusion. He wound up his pretty little speech by slowly pushing himself to his feet, spitting at Vandrad’s feet as he took hold of his rapier and attempted to portray himself as some kind of viable threat. If anything, he planned on carrying on his resistance to defeat until the bitter end. That was…. Something.

Vandrad’s stern glower broke for a moment, his lips peeling back into a wicked, malicious grin as he began to laugh. He wholeheartedly chuckled, clearly amused at the words being flung at him with such disdain and fury. As he began to settle, crimson orbs set their fiery gaze back on the pretty boy’s own gems. "You’re more than welcome to try, pissant. My only hope is that the thugs you hire to do your dirty work are capable of more bite than you are, you sick puppy. How wonderful it must be to be as stupid as you are; feeling superior because you target an innocent woman that you know can’t fight back against you. I truly am amazed at how pigheaded people like you can be. Call me nothing all you want -- we both know that you’re the real nothing here. Nothing more than a mewling quim!”

His aura bolstered once more, magical energy surging from his core into the outward dispersal. He closed the distance between them, thrusting his foot up towards Louie’s stomach in an attempt to plant the spit-covered boot into his gut. His left arm cocked back, the primary focal point of his magic, as it began to glow a bright red. All of his fury, his hatred, his compressed agitation, was pulled into the limb as it was enveloped in Vandrad’s magic, a truly devastating attack. When it snapped forward, its target was Louie’s face. With everything behind it, there was no way it wasn’t going to break every single bone in the pretty boy’s features, cracking the perfect, dolled up facade and scarring it for good. It wouldn’t kill him in the traditional sense…

But a man like Louie, it was as good as a death sentence.

Vandrad was going to wreck everything Louie had made for himself. No, the Prince of Bellum had no idea about the prestigiousness of the pretty boy’s life -- his stance within the wealthy, the famous, the one percenters of the magical world. Such trivial details mattered so little to Vandrad, who believed that magical strength and power were the true, pivotal aspects that made up one’s prowess within the world. Waving around jewels or one’s ability to be recognized by masses meant very little when someone came possessing superior abilities to crush you underfoot. And that was exactly what was happening here, as far as Vandrad was concerned. Louie had built himself a paper bubble of his fame, fortune and physical appearance, believing they would protect him from everything in the world. In doing so, he had thrust himself onto such a high pedestal that any of those around him were deemed unworthy of his time.

But the Prince of Bellum had forced the pretty boy’s attention on him, reminding Louie that his flimsy defense would only go so far. There were certainly a group of people that would have been disarmed by Louie’s position but not Vandrad -- never Vandrad. And the tactical mind that had been crafted in him from years within the military had helped the Prince deduce the weak point needed to break Louie’s entire persona into nothing but worthless fragments. He couldn’t take Louie’s fortune -- attempting to do so would out him as a Prince and that was its own bag of snakes he wasn’t ready to open up. Fame was a point that would fall but only in the sense that, with any luck, infamy would rise up to overtake the previously overestimated familiarity that the people of Fiore supposedly had. No, it was his looks. A man that had lost his mind over his suit being stained, who had attempted to murder Vandrad for tearing off a fragment from the outfit, was so well engrossed in vanity, he may as well be considered the very aspect of it. Everything about him screamed pretty and well kept.

Well, it was time to ruin that. Vandrad put so much magical force into his fist that the gravity around them started to shift. The ground seemed to vibrate and lift off slightly, loose pieces and crumbs floating up to hover at eyesight for both men. There was a fierceness in Vandrad’s gaze that could have ripped iron from stone and its ferocity was solely focused on Louie. The Prince held back just enough to ensure he wouldn’t kill the pretty boy but the damage it would cause would be lasting. And with any luck, it would provide a swift and brutal end to this pointless skirmish, leaving Louie unconscious on the ground for all the world to witness.

Unfortunately, his target was intercepted at the very last moment. As Vandrad’s magical attack reached its peak, he threw his fist first, aimed poignantly at the center of Louie’s face. Within a fraction of a second, the pretty boy was gone and another figure had stepped in his place, one that was far less deserving of any harsh punishment coming her way. He had absolutely no time to stop his punch as it rammed into Nessa, his knuckles breaking through a single layer of defensive magic before they kissed her cheek. His eyes shot wide as his leg snapped forward to level himself, pulling back slightly on the strength that was still going forward. But it was still enough to knock Nessa to the ground, her bottom planting itself and her palms steadying her from falling over any further.

The crowd gasped in shock, utterly surprised by the sudden appearance of the guild ace. Either that or they were completely flummoxed by the fact that Vandrad had struck her instead of Louie, though there was simply no stopping what was coming. The Prince of Bellum could only stand there in surprise, crimson eyes still wide as he stared down at Nessa, the woman suffering through the damage as best she could. The ground shook beneath his feet as anger raced through Nessa’s body, the insult of being struck watering the seeds of far darker impulses. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he had just started a melee he wasn’t prepared for.

She spoke up after her fury settled, putting a halt to any further battle with a single demand. While his own anger at Louie was still boiling beneath the surface, he wasn’t about to disobey a command from an ace of his guild, as much as he wanted to. Huffing through his nostrils, he pulled himself out of a combat stance slowly, his crimson form melting away and evaporating into the air. As he crossed his arms, clearly not happy about the state of conclusion, he continued to glare at Louie, unwilling to curb his hatred even for a demand. Nessa got herself to her feet, demanding the crowd that had gathered to watch to leave immediately. The response wasn’t quite as immediate as she would have liked and raised her voice, her anger coming out in full force with the second demand. That sent everyone away, the men and women practically clamoring over one another to get out.

It was obvious she wanted the rest of the audience to leave, not the two of them -- but she turned around and clarified to them, just in case that fact was missed. Vandrad, for his own part, understood the blame he had in this and was prepared for the repercussions. But the pretty boy couldn’t help himself -- he needed to speak up again, talk down to someone else again. Rather than apologize, he quickly tried to deflect the blame to Vandrad, only giving an inch in saying that perhaps he had spoken too harshly to the waitress. Oh and he played it up, trying to sound more depressed and distressed. As his gaze turned back to Vandrad, he set upon him more insults over his ‘barbaric’ flaws, how he should be utterly devastated that Nessa had been struck by his punch.

It was all utter bullshit. And for his part, against his better notion, Vandrad laughed. It was bitter, mirthless sound that betrayed just how maliciously amused he was at the ruse. "Is that the best attempt you have at lying, you morceau de merde?” he asked, taking his time to mockingly speak at a similar tone as Louie with his insult. "Or perhaps you forgot all the people that watched you threaten that girl, threaten another man, then tell the former to kill herself? Or the fact that I merely tore one part of your suit off and you opted to conjure a weapon and kill me in one blow? I only did what everyone else wanted to do because, and let me ensure you understand this quite clearly, nobody admires you. No one is going to stoop down and worship you, you ignorant idiot. So get over yourself.”

He then turned his attention to Nessa, the harshness in his features softening but only slightly. "I will apologize to you, Nessa -- and to the rest of the guild that was present for the interruption to their days. But I had no intention of letting this man get away with demanding a girl consider suicide for the simple mistake of spilling some wine. My actions went farther than I expected but with the lethal force he attempted to use upon me, I acted accordingly. I will not apologize for what I did against this… creature. I’ve stepped on insects that were worth more than ten of whatever the hell he is.”