The members of the Queen’s corps tasked to protect Tista were pissed off beyond reason. Most of them had a family back home, with one or more kids around Tista’s age. In their files, they had classified Garth Renkin as an insufferable pompous a*s, but a harmless one.

This time, by acting as a troll in heat, he had crossed the line. The only reason why he was still alive instead of chopped to pieces, was that unless in case of a deadly threat, their utmost priority was to remain undercover.

They had to wait either for him to push his luck or to go away from prying eyes before intervening.

To make things worse, the passive attitude of the bystanders, that aside from whispering and commenting were doing nothing, made more than one officer ponder setting the village ablaze after the situation was resolved.

In their eyes Tista was basically a saint. The only things she did were helping her family and providing magical care, sometimes even for free, behind Nana’s back, to those who couldn’t afford it or were going through a rough patch.

Seeing such a person harassed by a pig-brained man amid public indifference was too much to bear.

“Gods, as soon that idiot goes back home, I’m going to rip his b*lls off.” Said a member of the unit in her communication earpiece.