《The Sinful Young Master》


 Chapter 1 LIFES A BITCH (THEN YOU DIE)

    A man stands in the hall of his home, where he sees two members in an intimate position.


    As soon as he saw them, his chest started to feel tighter and his breathing became harder and heavier, his legs became weaker and he fell to the floor, and he started sweating profoundly.


    The world around him seemed to dim, and the sounds of his mother calling him didn''t reach him. There was a sharp pain in his chest like a jabbing sensation in his heart.


    They say that life shes before your eyes just before you die and it was happening to him now.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The man had a tough from a young age. They weren''t a well-off family and his father''s drinking habit only dragged them down and he was very abusive towards his family.


    After the young man reached a certain age. he stood up to his father and kicked him out of the house. By then he was in college but had no money to rent the house.


    So he quit his studies and started working. He took care of his mother and sister. His mother had suffered from PTSD from her abusive husband, and it was tough for her to move on.


    So he helped his mother pay for her therapist and took care of her daily, tending to her. His father, from the time he knew, always hit him. he didn''t know. So he hated him. he had no time for his life.


    All he did was take care of his mother and sister, paying for her school.


    And after his sisterpleted college, she eloped with her lover in the college and didn''t even call for her wedding.


    They were devasted.


    Both mother and son. he loved his sister and cared for her and what she did did number on him. he became sensitive issues and that''s when he met a woman in his construction job.


    They hit off well and itsted two years.


    Then one night, he found her with the site manager, him groping her.


    When he confronted her, she said that he wasn''t earning well and she needed money.


    Again, the young man was devasted, and his motherforted him. He moved on with his life, taking care of his mother and providing for her, as she was the only woman who cared for him.


    But that was also shattered today as he saw his mother and his father, a man who hated with his guts sitting in his living room, intimate with his mother. How could she get back with him?


    How could she allow a man who destroyed their life into their home? The thoughts shed in his mind.


    His world started to darken slowly. The mother held her son, calling his name she could feel his life slip away. She wept uncontrobly.

 Chapter 2 Leave for Stormholde Keep

    Thomas opened his eyes.


    Wait, I''m not dead.


    His vision slowly returned to him.


    He was lying on a plushy carpet and before him was a bed and table where three figures sat.


    There were people in the room,ughing.


    He couldn''t discern the voices or thenguage they were speaking.


    Slowly he moved, but he realized it was difficult to move as he felt like his body was heavy.


    He could tell it wasn''t English but slowly he was starting to understand as a voice rang in his head.


    [Qalena''s blessing as chosen one]


    [Inherited Qalena''s will]


    [Power of ASCENDANT obtained]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The voice kept ringing in his head.


    Thomas was still disoriented and couldn''t figure out what was happening.


    Then suddenly, he heard them say, "Hey, look at him, he''s still alive."


    Then another voice said, female''s, "I told you he wouldn''t die."


    Another male voice said, "Thank the gods, he didn''t die, if not grandmother will bite me off."


    Thomas slowly got up.


    He then looked at the people and the room he was in.


    It looked like he was in some old Victorian type of set. He didn''t understand why he was here.


    As he was starting to wonder, he caught his as he felt a prating sharp like pain.


    The memories flooded in, a young man''s life and his family and how he was tortured to death by these three people.


    The young woman ra, was his supposed fiance but she didn''t want to marry him. She was also his cousin. And it made Thomas baffled.


    What the incestual fuck? To preserve their bloodline, they have been marrying like this.


    I feel like I was in a famous series from my previous life.


    So he was pressuring him to cancel the marriage and the other two males were his brothers.


    Thomas was now inheriting the body of a young man named Jolthar kaelzhar.


    The Kaelzhar was a n of magic swordsmen.


    There are powerful n which holds a strong foothold in the entire empire. The family had a stronghold as the fierce and domineering presence.


    Of the two who are present, one of them is his elder brother Orimus and the other was the son of a concubine, Tolion who was closer to Orimus.


    They have been picking on Jolthar, simply they felt like it and Jolthar didn''t have magic like other children and it only made them act more.


    He only practised sword but that hasn''t reached anywhere.


    So no one in the family looked at him or cared about him. He even lived in the small single-room house behind the Family''s estate.


    They alwayse into his room to drink and bully him.


    Today they had gone extreme and hit him on the head which killed him.


    And that''s when Thomas came into his body.


    He heard about reincarnation but he didn''t think he could get one himself.


    He looked at his hands and his body. Jolthar''s body was frail. He could see the callous on the hands from long sword practice.


    His previous life had been a mess, he only cared about his family and neglected himself. And here, Jolthar had been working so hard to get acknowledged by his family. In a way, they both were the same. Feeling Jolthar''s emotions, he sped his hands. He had decided, that he would make Joltar''s dreame true and he wouldn''t live for anyone but himself. He decided to be Jolthar, Thomas had died and he was now Jolthar, his new life had just begun.


    He would get revenge, on this family and the people who tormented the boy all his life and he will leave for it. Thomas felt those memories like he had lived them again, while he watched them, he rted himself to the boy and it made him more invested.


    SIGH


    Even in this life, it seems like I have to live a hard life again. Damn, goddess!


    After they all left, now Jolthar stood alone in the room.


    First of all, he needs to leave this house.


    From his memories, he remembered a conversation he had with his grandmother, in which she mentioned a book belonging to a man, his ancestor, who was revered as the sword king.


    He didn''t understand why she suddenly showed up and talked to him but Jolthar was thankful and now found a way. Jolthar seemed like he was preparing to leave but that''s when they came to meet him.


    Jolthar''s life came to an abrupt end.


    The book she mentioned was in the Stormholde Keep, a ce where the n members held training in previous years. But right now, no one was at the Keep. Every one of them had already finished training.


    Jolthar left the family house and left for Stormholme Keep.


    As there were variables like swords and magic, he could train with them but he didn''t have a talent for magic so Jolthar had practised swords for many years and was very knowledgeable with swords.


    It took him three days to reach the Keep. Fortunately, no one questioned his arrival as he was the child of the Kaezr n.


    The Stormholde Keep was stretched over a 1 acre ofnd, but the structure was tall and had plenty of rooms and it had grounds for training. He settled on the first and took a rest as he was tired from the journey.


    The next day, he started searching.


    He found the book after searching the library in the keep, it was hidden deep inside the library in the ce where his grandmother had mentioned.

 Chapter 3 Training

    He spent a few days reading the book and then he concluded that first he needed to prepare his body. Jolthar was too weak and lean.


    The book mentioned that to prepare one''s body and mind were the first essential things a swordsman must do.


    It was the basic.


    Lateres the sword training. The book mentioned the levels and flow in which one should practise the sword to master it.


    It was like Tier 1, basic level, Tier 2, advanced levels, Tier 3, intermediate levels. Every tier was described in detail with figures of the swordsman holding the sword and the stance and postures.


    He threw himself into this training with fervour, getting up early in the morning each day to run, stretch, and perform countless repetitions of bodyweight exercises.


    At first, he struggled to understand. He was just a construction worker, he didn''t know much about the swords and all. He watched movies or TV in his free time but never read novel stuff or anything rted to this. But he wasn''t about to back down. Once he sets his mind on something, he won''t be able to stop himself until it is done.


    It was like when you found your favourite game, you would sit all night to finish it.


    The idea of a sword and training with it was exhrating, and the profoundness in the book really made him fantasize.


    Whoever wrote, they must have really loved the sword.


    He practised following the book''s guidance for a year.


    He was now 15 years of age andtely, he had been interested in sword smithing. It piqued his interest.


    He was content that the book showed the guidance he required for the training but the book didn''t have any sword techniques, to progress further he needed to a sword technique.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    In the book, it was mentioned that the ancestor who wrote it left his sword on his tomb and whoever was eligible, could pull the sword off his tomb he mentioned that there was a technique inside his tomb.


    The mentioned tomb was in their cemetery, back at the Stormholme Keep.


    He went to the cemetery and searched for the tomb and while he was searching, he found a room.


    He entered the room, and as soon as he entered, darkness engulfed him, he couldn''t see anything.


    So he brought antern and went in.


    There were a lot of stone tombs around.


    In the dark, he could make out rectangr long tombs all over.


    As he wondered, he saw arge tombstone which was white and different from the others.


    On top of the white tomb, there was a sword.


    A long, rusted sword, plunged into the tombstone. Jolthar felt like the sword was calling to him and he involuntarily moved to the tomb


    As he reached the tomb, his hand moved and touched it. As soon as he touched, like a ma, the sword clutched to his hand. The next second, the white b on the tomb, broke.


    Then a skeleton was revealed.


    On top, there was a book. he took and read the name as the Sword of Chaosbane.

 Chapter 4 Meeting the D Goddess

    Thomas will be addressed as Jolthar.


    Jolthar pov:


    Months passed, and I was starting to see the effects of my training. I changed my diet, eating fried meat. I have to say, they have the best cooking in the Keep.


    My muscles started to swell, my stamina improved, and I moved with a newfound grace. But physical preparation was only the first step.


    The staff at the keep were friendly. They were sympathetic towards me. And few of them even encouraged me to keep doing what I believe.


    So far, everything is working out well for me. I guess the goddess did some work, thought whoever sent me here, doing the patchwork for me.


    The book spoke at length about the importance of mental discipline and cultivating a calm and focused mind.


    I took up meditation, spending hours each day in solitude.


    At first, it was maddening¡ªmy thoughts were all over the ce, and I couldn''t sit still for more than a few minutes, with my eyes closed.


    But gradually, I learned to quiet the storm in my mind. Slowly, I calmed myself and my thoughts. The meditation helped me, to keep myself sane and poised. I learnt to control my emotions.


    Right now, I was sitting in my room, meditating.


    That''s when I heard the voice again.


    [Soul stabilized]


    [Power of VOIDWRATH in effect]


    Suddenly I could feel different, and my body started to radiate a purple smoke-like me. It wasing from the pores of my skin.


    I was in a daze, looking at what was happening to me.


    Suddenly I felt something pressed upon me, like an invisible tonne of weight dropped on me. I tried to resist, but it only made my body shudder and ache all over.


    I was alone; there was nobody in the room right now. I couldn''t even think properly or find out what was happening to me. I was stuck there, not even able to move a single muscle.


    The purple me-like energy was increasing, and it suddenly red up.


    And then, out of nowhere, a figure dropped in front of me.


    Gritting my teeth, I could see that it was a woman dressed in a ck gown flowing around her.


    As soon as she entered the room, the pain subsided, but not entirely. She was hovering before me and she was smiling at me.


    FUCK!!


    "This was all I could restrict. I will talk and you listen, so that you can be relieved of your pain," she said. Her voice was different than any woman he heard until now.


    I could only nod.


    A small smile crept onto the woman''s face.


    "Yes, I am the one who gave you a second chance. The reason you are like this is because you are extremely weak." The being stated directly.


    "So grow stronger, and we will meet again."


    "If I stay any longer, you will be fried into nothingness."


    She was speaking as if I were just like an ant. Like I didn''t matter. I wanted to speak, but I barely held myself. And she said that she restricted her power, and what if she fully unleashed it? I could only imagine.


    Then I saw her move her hand towards my head, and a small golden light energy flowed from her fingertip towards my be.


    [Power of Blessed One obtained.]


    Then she said, "I already gave you something to make things simpler for you. It will help you in times of danger and with your growth."


    "I will take my leave now." With that, she disappeared. Puff, she was gone in an instant, leaving me there in shock.


    AHHHH!!n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Right after she left, air rushed into my lungs, and I was panting really hard, sweating profusely.


    Stretching my legs and leaning back, I just stared at the space where she just disappeared.


    Fuck! What just happened? She came, talked, and left. And the only thing my brain registered was the word weak. She said that I was too weak to endure her presence. Just how powerful was she?


    *SIGH*


    The purple energy was still radiating from me. Is it mana? No, it wasn''t Mana. Whatever it was, I could only use it for now to grow stronger and meet her again.

 Chapter 5 Book of ancestor

    That day, as soon as she left, I made my way to the library, eager to understand more about the gods of this world and the elusive Goddess Qalena. My search was fruitful; after scouring shelves and skimming through ancient tomes, I found a passage on her. Qalena, the goddess of life and death, stood as one of the most revered beings in the gods'' realm. She was the wife of Xaereus, one of the three great gods, and was rumoured to possess strength surpassing all other gods.


    This discovery only deepened the mystery. Why would a goddess of such power have any interest in me, a mere mortal? The question lingered in my mind as I dove further into my reading, determined to uncover everything I could about this pantheon of gods.


    Apparently, there were thirteen pantheons, each ruled by its own set of deities, with the primary power structure resting in the hands of three great gods: Xaereus, Krayreus, and B''rameus.


    Xaereus, as the lore described, was the strongest among them, ruling from the gods'' domain, a mystical realm high above the world of mortals. Below their domain was our world, the Minds, and below thaty the Netherworld, ruled by the god Ax''dall.


    Within the gods'' domain, there was a hierarchy.


    Directly below the pantheons were the deities, overseen by their king, Inadrys.


    Inadrys'' tales, in particr, were¡­ colourful, to say the least. One story spoke of him descending to the Minds to seduce the wife of a powerful sage, a fairy princess with immense beauty. A battle erupted between the sage and Inadrys, and, against all odds, the sage managed to defeat him, as the sage held Xaereus''s blessing.


    Humiliated by his loss, Inadrys devised a deceitful n.


    He disguised himself as the sage and returned to seduce the fairy princess once more. She, unable to distinguish between her husband and the imposter, weed him into her embrace.


    When the Sage returned and found them together, his fury knew no bounds. In his wrath, he cursed his wife, dering that she would remain eternally young yet forever roam the Minds, unable to return to her fairy realm. She would live an endless life, cursed to see her loved one''s age and die while she stayed the same.


    I continued reading, fascinated by the numerous tales of gods and their ws.


    Despite their powers, these beings were not free from weakness. Infidelity, jealousy, vengeance¡ªthese traits permeated their stories as much as they did human lives.


    Inadrys, particrly, seemed to have a reputation as a "yer." Countless tales described him pursuing queens, wives of kings, and other women of exceptional beauty throughout the Minds. Many of these unions resulted in offspring known as demigods, mortal children with divine blood coursing through their veins.


    These demigods were said to be remarkably strong, blessed with heightened abilities that set them apart from ordinary humans. Legends imed that when a demigod umted a certain level of divine karma¡ªacts of valour, selflessness, or wisdom¡ªthey could transcend the mortal ne and ascend to the deity realm, where they too might attain the rank of a deity.


    Sitting amidst these ancient texts, a new thought struck me: even gods, with all their might and splendour, wrestled with desires and shorings just as humans did. Perhaps their power did not exempt them from the very ws they so often inflicted upon mortals.


    As the days went by, one day, the patriarch of the family visited the Stormholme keep. He arrived with a group of his knights. There were about 30 of them, I think.


    Of course, he didn''t know I was there or that anyone in the family knew I was there. I didn''t get to see him, nor did I care to see him.


    Previous Jolthar longed to be recognized by his father. He wanted badly to stand in front of his father and look him in the eye. He knew from the memories.


    I didn''t understand, how one could never care for their children. Even dogs would fight back if anything happened to their pups, but these people never even cared about him.


    Well, I can''t talk much about mine.


    "Haa!" Too much of this sighing these days. I will too feel today.


    Right now, I was sitting in the stands of the training grounds. I didn''t when he came, but Orimus was standing before. What now, I thought.


    Orimus smiled at him and said, "So, this is where you have been hiding. I thought you ran off or something."


    I didn''t reply, just stared at him. Sometimes, it was best to stay silent. And now it was that time. I couldn''t really do anything to him, nor was I stronger than him.


    "Hey, I am talking to you."


    When he stepped closer to me, someone called out to him.


    "Orimus."


    Then I saw another young man if I could remember correctly. It was his third older brother, Davis.


    He didn''t bother to look at me and told Orimus toe.


    Then Orimus quickly hurried over to him, and then they both left. Orimus nced at me before he left. Little bastard, I felt like smacking his head.


    It seems like the patriarch hade with his whole family, but not him. They didn''t call him or want to meet him. They stayed in the Keep for a half day and then left.


    I was standing on the walls, watching them leave. The patriarch sat in a carriage, so I couldn''t look at him.


    ***


    I had reached what the book described as an "intermediate" level of skill. But I hungered for more. The basic techniques I''d learned were a solid foundation, but I knew there was so much more to discover about the art of the sword.


    As mentioned in the book, to be ''one with the sword'', it''s what intrigued me. To feel the metal, to feel it as an extension of your body. To understand the essence, I even started swordsmithing.


    To my own luck, the training grounds had a swordsmithing workshop. Then it struck, Why not make a sword for myself? This mysterious power inside had been a great boost to his sword practice; it was like adding fuel to the fire. But I need materials for making a sword.


    The majority of swords were made from carbon steel or some alloys. Some of them are made from steel too. But I felt like, these swords wouldn''t hold against the power of voidwrath.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    I don''t know a lot about sword making, but I had a lot of time on my hands. Other than training and reading, I haven''t got much to do. But it sure was peaceful here, without any technologies around me. It was weird at first, but after I had started training, it didn''t bother me much.


    Back then, when I was working in the construction field, there was this man; who talked a lot about katana. He had a hobby of making them, and he sometimes even brought them to the site. Everybody was so mesmerized by his craftsmanship. From what I know, high carbon would be an ideal metal. And there was titanium with its corrosion resistance.


    So, I asked around the smitting workshop. For reference to the material avable in this world, I even went through a set of books. Perks of a rich family library. After a day or two, I found something¡ªthe metal ore called Dreitrium, a very rare metal ore.


    Though it had the properties I was looking for, it has its downsides. It was denser than other metals, and it was very hard to extract the metal from the ores. The process of melting and moulding involved a veryplex method.


    Also, I had to find the ore first, as it wasn''t avable, like vegetables in the market.


    Suddenly, I thought of the goddess. Maybe she would help me.


    HAA!


    Sighing, I got up and left the library.

 Chapter 6 The path of the sword

    Two weekster, Jolthar was now riding towards the sunset, until finally, he arrived at a lone barren mountain situated west of the Stormholme Keep.


    The mountain rising from the t, deste ins looked no different from an uninhabited ind in the middle of the ocean, except that the rust-colored rocks emanated an unearthly, sinister aura.


    "Young Master, do you really n on living here?" Colinus felt terrible at the thought of leaving Jolthar alone in this deste ce away from the Keep.


    Colinus had been the man taking care of the Keep for years, and he had received Jolthar when he first came to the Keep. Colinus was an old man and a gentle soul. He felt really bad seeing the state of Jolthar when he first arrived. And he was the one who helped him with proper meals for Jolthar all this time. The site of Jolthar muscr form now, he was feeling content.


    He didn''t understand how the n could not care for such a dedicated boy.


    He didn''t understand why he suddenly set out to train here in these mountains, and Jolthar had requested that he bring him meat, to here.


    On the contrary, Jolthar liked this ce a lot. He replied, "Yes, I do. This is the perfect ce for me to concentrate on practicing my sword."


    Jolthar forged a sword, made from tungsten, a very dense and heavy sword, but Jolthar preferred it. Though it looked lean, its sharpness can cut through any metal, and he also imbeded the mysterious chi. He took the idea of katana and made its one side sharp and kept the other side t. The de was a meter long with a three-inch width and a half-inch thick.


    The ones who helped said that it would be very heavy and brittle. He wasn''t bothered with the weight of the sword. He wanted to make a wless sword; under the guidance of the smiths, he added an alloy to make up for the limitations, and the chi also helped a lot.


    Though the process of making would have been hard if not for the magical runes used for heating. The metal required a lot of heating to mold and shape it.


    If Jolthar''s friend from back then was present, he would have jumped in joy seeing the sword.


    ''If there are any problems with living here, it would have to be the difficulties in securing living necessities. I''ll have to depend on Colinus''s seasonal visits for that.''


    "Uncle Colinus, I know this will be hard on you, but would you mind continuing sending me supplies regrly?"


    "Oh dear! Please don''t say such things, Young Master. Taking care of you is my duty. You shouldn''t worry about me and focus on sword training."


    Jolthar smiled and said, "Thank you, Uncle."


    However, instead of making Colinus feel reassured, Jolthar''s smile only ended up making him feel even more guilty.


    Jolthar looked up at the giant mountain before him.


    "I won''t go back until I cut this mountain," Jolthar muttered to himself.


    After Colinus had left, Jolthar carried his luggage into a cave on the side of the mountain. The naturally formed cave was wide and deep, perfect for his living and training needs.


    When he was done moving his luggage, Jolthar did not rest. Instead, he piled up a stack ofrge rocks into a certain shape, then headed to the bottom of the mountain and filled up a sack with soil.


    He drew some water from a crack in the rocks near the cave and mixed it with the soil to form y. He then used the y to fill the cracks in between therge rocks that he had piled up.


    Just like that, a weekter, Jolthar finished making himself a gigantic furnace three times the size and thickness of the one in his old smithy. The reason for thisrge furnace was that there was no firewood avable near Mountain. He''d be able to find coal in the mountains. The mes created from burning coal were far hotter than those created from firewood, so he needed a furnace that could handle much higher temperatures.


    Two dayster, after searching around the mountain, he found a location where he could mine a ck rock that matched the description of "coal". Another one of his perks of the reading.


    "Phew!"


    Jolthar observed the white-orange hot mes in his new furnace. The heat spreading out from it was so intense that it was hard to breathe even far away.


    He tossed several chunks of iron ore into the furnace. He made the furnace, to pass his time by smithing. It also helped him keep his mind off things, to stabilize his mind.


    "Huu¡­"


    Jolthar took a deep breath and looked up at the blood-red rock wall in front of him. It was thergest cliff face, being 400 feet tall and 600 feet wide.


    It''s like a giant among giants is looking down at me; like nature''s majesty and supremacy are aiming to crush my spirit.


    This wall is the backbone of the Mountain, and the red colouration is its blood.


    "From now on, you will be my opponent."


    In his hand, Jolthar held a new long sword that he had spent his months forging. The sharpness of its de could be discerned from the way the steel glinted in the bright sunlight.


    He had other ideas of making a long sword. For that purpose, he had built the furnace.


    From his ancestor, he learned that he had to develop a sword aura. The aura was very unique and was a big step into bing a swordsman.


    Jolthar spent most of his days concentrating on his aura. The biggest hurdle for Jolthar was very hard to obtain. To develop a deep bond with the sword.


    Train with the sword to synchronize the wielder''s movements and intentions with the sword''s abilities, enhancing its effectiveness.


    And the next thing was the sword intent; it was something that made the swordsman differentiate from the regr swordsmen. The intent, is the will of the individual wielding the sword. The sword''s intent often reflects the wielder''s purpose or will.


    The sword''s abilities or powers might align with the wielder''s emotions. A sword wielded with calm resolve might be more precise and controlled, while one wielded with rage might unleash more chaotic and powerful attacks.


    The more attuned the wielder was to the sword''s aura, the more powerful and effective the sword became.


    He poured his purple energy into the de, and the de hummed in response. This was the sword acknowledging his purple energy.


    While maintaining the chi in the de, he closed his eyes and recalled the forms of the sword of Chaosbane.


    The form involves the six forms of chaosbane, in an order of their power and range.


    Jolthar went through the six basic forms of the chaosbane in his mind.


    Eclipse sh


    Crescent of the void


    Phantom curve


    Chaos resonance


    Bloodwake cleave


    Starlight Doom


    They were the six forms of the Chaosbane. The whole bundle of the book contained a detailed description of the forms, and Jolthar took his time reading and memorizing them. And now it was time to put them to use and perfect them.


    However, the really scary part of the six forms of the chaosbane could only be realized when the forms werebined and performed in conjunction. It''s true strength was not the sum of the six individual forms, but the strength of the six forms multiplied together.


    Theoretically, simply bybining only two forms, one would be able to create thirty new forms. Adding that number to the original six basic forms, that would be thirty-six forms in total. And that was not the limit.


    The keyword there was "theoretically". Not even Jolthar knew if it would actually work, since his predecessor hadn''t actually reached that level of mastery. He mentioned that in his journal.


    Right now, Jolthar had only learned the first three of the six basic forms. Even then, it had taken him many, many repeated experiments and failures to iron out the mistakes and problems with the forms. Turning theoretical sword art into reality ended up being a lot harder than he thought it would be.


    He didn''t know how much more time and effort it would take him to fix the remaining three forms, but he felt that as long as he kept trying, he''d surely seed one day.


    The Path of the Sword.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The current me is still standing at the beginning of that path.


    He turned to face the wall of the cave and swung his de.


    A sword cried, and the wind rose.

 Chapter 7 Wedding of the Clans

    Year 1821, 1st October.


    This time of the year, the chill seemed to settle in, and people began to face the merciless winter. The cold can be very deadly, in most parts of the northern part of the empire.


    The main house of the Kaezr n was present in the north, several miles away from the cier mountains. The mountains, being cold in general, were even harsher during the winter. No one could survive the mountains, moving through thesends.


    The main house has been busy with the arrival of the guests. Today was the day of the wedding of the eldest son. He was getting married to the daughter of the omnimagic n, the Naemarys.


    They are said to be only second to the Kaehr. It was a proposal brought up by the Kaezr, and after a month of continuous discussions, they joined hands in the marital bliss.


    The estate was glowing in the decoratory setting, and the Kaezr showed off their wealth and presented itself as the most powerful and influential n in the region. The wedding ceremony was a grand affair, with guests from all over the kingdom attending to witness the union of two powerful families.


    All sorts of flowers were hung from the ceiling and decorated through the rooms and halls. They weren''t the only types of flowers. There were also yellow and light purple crocuses, copper and coral peonies, allium blooms in every known colour, and lilies of the valley. All these flowers put little hints of sweetness in the air, which mixed in with the light smoke from the candles.


    Sitting in an arrangement not unlike the expectation for a court meeting, honoured guests in their splendid attire waited. Some of them looked slightly different since they were from different parts of the kingdom or even the world.


    One of the men had a turban with many jewels and cloud-like white feathers, plus a lovely golden robe with a purple sash. The boy attendants near him were in simr garb. They all had somewhat darkerplexions than most of the men there, not that such a thing was a problem.


    The only true problem was the height and width of some women''s headdresses. Some people had to move their chairs just to get a proper view, which meant that other people had to move too because their space had been taken. Simr things had happened at court meetings, but it was more obvious here.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Important servants, musicians, and all other kinds of employees were in the main hall, each one either standing by or moving to keep things running well.

 Chapter 8 Patriarchs

    Naemary''s family sat together. They were all in some of the best clothes and essories they had. Even the little maids-in-waiting had broad headdresses. Their girlish braids even had a few bejewelled pins.


    Their young little faces were haughty. They were still too young to know how to hide their egos in such a situation. It was as if they''d forgotten that they weren''t the only ones looking important.


    Horns, drums, and bagpipes were suddenly yed in a short, announcing tune. In the centre, from the main doors, the patriarch of the Kaezr n arrived. A few steps behind him, each holding a box ted in gold, were his squires.


    The Patriarch was wearing a long gown with sleeves that fell a significant length past his hands. There was even a wing-like shape. The warm weather didn''t matter.


    The gown was in a base of ck, the deepest ck. There was lush embroidery, which would''ve taken a very long time toplete. Costly indigo threads, outlined by gold, formed flowers and fruits.


    A heavy belt of golden squares andrge jewels was around his waist. Attached to that belt, there was a sword with a bejewelled handle and simrly encrusted sheath. His fingers, even a thumb, had what were likely thergest and most boastful rings in the whole room.


    There were three nes. The first one was made ofrge, golden ovals and rectangles, each one with a few tiny and glittery stones in a seemingly random arrangement. Between each shape there wererger stones. It might''ve had eighteen inches. The second ne could''ve had around twenty-four inches. It was aplex chain of silver and gold links with many different angles. Some would''ve called it a birdcage chain. The third ne might''ve had thirty inches, and it was abination of things. Sections of birdcage chains like the previous ne, sections ofrge stones set in precious metals, and sections of simple but costly andrge beads. There were even three pendants of pearl clusters and dangling spangle chains.


    Over his shoulders, held up behind him by a handful of servants, there was the famous indigo cape with the ermine lining and Family''s crest. His hair was smoothly braided with little gems pinned in, simr to those little maids-in-waiting.


    The musician''s drums seemed to match his feet as he slowly marched down the rug. His shoes were gold with ck velvet bows and round pearls.


    The procession halted some distance from the tform bearing the throne. Then, carefully, they all had to turn around and move ahead a bit. The servants had to keep the cloth from twisting.


    He came to a halt before the Naemarys family, greeting the head of Naemarys'' family head. He was a man of regal stature with amanding presence that demanded respect.


    It was a sight to behold¡ªto see both powerhouses, two powerful beings standing side by side.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Then they both sat side by side, at the centre of the room.

 Chapter 9 Bride and groom

    The music stopped.


    From a door on one side of the room, a new man entered.


    The music started again, but this time it was a little tune with flutes.


    He was a priest from the temple in Odrugon. Two of his apprentices kept near him. The priest had a tall hat with fine silk patches in vertical rows. His gown had a pattern of silver and white that resembled flowing water. He quietly walked over to the centre and stood in a spot behind the Patriarch''s cloak.


    Again, the music stopped.


    Those doors were opened again.


    Horns, flutes, drums, lyres, tambourines. Slow but triumphant music.


    The bride and the groom entered the room.


    Lady Liliana, the eldest daughter of Naemarys, and Lorryll, the eldest son of Kaezr, strode side by side. They both were of the same age, in their mid twenties.


    Their march was even slower than the patriarch had been¡ªa cautious march¡ªa prudent march.


    Lorryll''s wedding attire was long golden robes, and Liliana wore a gown of delicate ivoryce. Her hair came down in loose waves, adorned with small white flowers that matched the ones in her bouquet.


    She was like a fairy.


    She moved with elegant purpose, likely with no vulgar thoughts, but her body was so delightfully womanly. She''d gained enough weight. She was back to her normal, pleasant figure. Her smaller waist enhanced the wider curves of her hips. Her bosom''s shape, while adequately covered, was still eye-catching. She was holding a tiny bouquet of white roses in her belly. Her pale hands were clean and well groomed, the rings making them seem even smaller. Her arms were only just slender enough.


    She was the brightest star. The elegant little canvas that had been turned into a piece of art. The beautiful maiden dressed in the most honourable and ostentatious clothing and jewels. The bride would soon have each piece of finery plucked and shucked away, bit by bit.


    Perhaps one would think she was purposely trying to be solemn, or maybe one would think she was emotionally overwhelmed and wanted to cry from pure joy.


    However, there was the idea that she was terribly ufortable in many ways, and she might even hate all the physical and metaphorical weight ced on her body.


    Whatever the reason, by the time Liliana was halfway down the room''s wide aisle, she''d seemed to calm her nerves enough to merely pout like an upset child.


    At first, as the Lorryll watched his bride, his eyes were ignited with lust.


    But then, as the little woman moved forward, something else mixed in with his feelings.


    She was just...


    She was so cute! She was like a sad little baby puppy!


    She was a soft, whimpering little puppy with pale blonde fur and big, pretty eyes! She was the most darling little thing on this, and he knew he had to appreciate that!


    He almost grinned.


    But something hid away any desire to grin.


    The couple took new positions, facing each other before the priest. The priest then spoke. It was technically a lecture. Unity, loyalty, peace, and honour. Those sorts of things were promoted.


    Lorryll brain only glossed over his words. They weren''t very interesting to him.


    What was interesting was how Liliana''s breathing had her chest rising and falling so evenly.


    Another interesting thing was how her lower lip quivered by only a trace at certain points.


    After a while, the priest finished his speech.


    The couple exchanged gands. Then the groom tied a golden thread around her neck; it was a symbol that their marriage had been done in the presence of their family and a priest.


    Once that was done, a handful of even more servants entered the room. They had a second cloak. It was long and ck with gold and silver colours. The lining and trimming were the beloved ermine fur. Those servants helped to put this cloak over bride''s shoulders.


    Lorryll took Liliana''s hand, and they faced the audience. Polite apuse greeted them. Then music followed them as they marched down the aisle.N?v(el)B\\jnn

 Chapter 10 Ceremony

    The cloaks were removed before the feast began in the dining hall.


    It was a room ready for the grandest of celebrations. Temporary panels of painted wood had been attached to some sections of the walls. They had lovely images of people, animals, forests, mountains, and even ships at sea. Floral and cloth gands were hung around. So were banners and gs.


    The new bride sat down beside her husband for the first time in this hall. She was reserved, barely ever speaking a word, almost never meeting anyone''s eyes. No perfume could be found on her. Lorryll couldn''t even smell her bacon scented hair, which made sense. It was all wrapped away and covered.


    First, food was served. It had to be. Nobody wanted to be hungry and waiting during the gift showing.


    After that, it was time for the gifts. It was a long process. All kinds of things were presented to the new couple.


    Then music and dancing. The first set would be left for the couple alone. For a minute, the performance was somber. Lorryll had a calm expression.


    The guests took their turns dancing. It was a loud, dynamic scene.


    Hired performers had to put on a show after that meal.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Young maidens with loose, dark hair. Their bellies, arms, and legs exposed. Their clothing was barely clothing at all. Even their feet were bare! Their smooth, darkplexions were magnificent. Their red painted lips were tempting. Their dancing involved interesting, if not outright vulgar, movements in their hips and bellies.


    Liliana''s face pinkened.


    Once the performance was finished, the dancers all got to their knees and curled over, prostrating themselves. Then, their heads down, they shuffled out of the room with their musicians.


    The sun was setting.


    It was time for the merriment to end.

 Chapter 11 Entering the bedchamber

    Liliana told the chambermaids to help her wash her hair. Then her favourite bacon grease was applied. As she waited for her hair to soak the moisture in, Liliana sat on a stool and had her body rinsed with water mixed with flower petals.


    Liliana''s hair was rinsed. As it was left free to dry, Liliana spent some time listening to her sisters, who were with her now. In the end, aurel green gown with only somewhat loose sleeves was chosen. A in leather belt was put around her waist. Then a ck, voluminous, hooded cloak that hid all of her body and face wasid out.


    Her now dry hair wasn''t braided nor wrapped away. It was left alone to trail down her body. The cloak was put over her.


    Liliana was escorted all the way to the entrance to Lorryll''s bedchamber.


    The cloak blinded her. She needed her maids to hold her hand and give her verbal instructions.


    At the door, Liliana heard a guard say, "Yes, he''s waiting. His chamberboys have already left for the night." He was referring to boy servants that kept Lorryll''s quarters clean and helped him with dressing and grooming.


    A guard knocked on the doors, or that''s what Liliana thought she heard. Someone answered from the other side.


    It was one of the squires. "Is Her Majesty here?"


    The guard said yes. The creaking noise of doors opening rolled into Liliana''s ears.


    A few footsteps moved past. The squire''s voice came again. He sounded like he was in the hallway. "His Majesty is alone inside."


    Liliana wanted to sarcastically remark, "Oh? I thought he was on one of the roofs!" Instead, she said thank you in a little whisper. Her maid adjusted her hood to give her a bit more sight. Liliana was able to enter the space without tripping or walking into anything.


    The doors were closed.


    Liliana pulled the hood back.


    Candlelight showed her many pretty things. Paintings, some of them portraits. Large tapestries.


    Potted nts, including flowers. Lovely statues. A few standing suits of armour. Hanging shields and weapons, some of them far too encrusted with gems to be reasonable forbat. The colours were difficult to perceive urately, but Liliana thought they were at least luxurious. Most fabrics seemed to be dark with ents of something bright. There was almost certainly some ck.


    She saw desks, tables, and chairs. Screens of paper, wood, or even cloth. Huge coffers and chests. A partially open set of doors led to what Liliana assumed was a balcony. She only saw a line of moonlight to give her a hint. She also assumed there were windows, but if there were, they were covered by thick and tall curtains. Her shoes met a few things. A richly tiled floor. A few bear skin rugs. Some rush mats are coated with sweet flower petals. Even some punched style rugs withplex designs.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    It smelt like spring. It was pleasant.


    Liliana put her bare fingers through and pulled one of the doors just enough to peek around. She found a balcony and outdoor furniture, but not much else.


    Closing the doors, Liliana looked back. She couldn''t even hear breathing. The air was ufortably still.


    She walked over to a little round table that might''ve served as a private dining table. It was covered with a long tablecloth with tassels lightly touching the floor. A scroll had been left on this table. She opened it and held it to a light. It seemed to be an old poem describing some battle from centuries ago. Fine. She closed the scroll and put it back on the table.


    Around the screens, Liliana looked this way and that. Then she pulled up every curtain against a wall she could find. She confirmed that there were indeed windows. They were tall with clear panes.


    After a time, Liliana stood near the bed with an annoyed little sigh.

 Chapter 12 Intimatacy of the two

    He was hiding behind the canopy curtains, waiting to snatch her and drag her into his bed. She knew it.


    It was a huge bed on a wooden tform. Stairs were on each side. Heavy, dark curtains hid most of the bed, but Liliana understood it was basically a rectangle with posts and curtains.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    She went over to the steps and went up. Thest step was the tform''s floor, where little rugs on each side had been ced to keep bare feet from touching cold stone in the morning. She pinched a bit of a curtain.


    Even though she''d expected it, her heart still fluttered, and her breath was still caught up in the moment.


    A long arm appeared. The hand seized a good palm''s worth of her cloak. She was indeed dragged in.


    She was held close to arge, apparently naked body, and they tumbled together until Liliana was on her back and on what she assumed was roughly the centre of the mattress. Secretly, she was impressed with herself for not yelping or thrashing about.


    The man''s arm slipped out from under her body, and then his weight shifted. Liliana could see a little light through the curtains, but not much. She thought he was crouching over her, but she could barely even see an outline representing him.


    Lorryll''s voice sounded disappointed. "Weren''t you surprised?"


    Simple, quiet, soft. "No."


    A pause.


    She heard his breath hiss out. Then she heard and felt himugh. His thighs trembled against her, and his breath spread over her face. He even said, "I might do something else to you soon."


    "I''m too old for mischief," Liliana whispered up to him. "Please have mercy on me."


    He actually hummed down at her as if he were seriously considering her words. "Hmmmmmm."


    Then Liliana heard his lips smack open, and he said, "No."


    He gripped her arm and pulled her up to a kneeling position. Liliana shrugged and moved to undress in the dark. She didn''t really need to, though.


    Lorryll yanked and tore everything away from her, throwing every piece off to some far off part of the mattress. She had to get out of the kneeling position at some points, but she was back in it soon.


    Some of Liliana''s hair was pulled too. When she was finally nude, not even wearing a stocking, she knew her hair was wild. Even though it was so dark, she tried to smooth it all down with her palms.


    That was a pointless thing to do.


    He grabbed most of her hair and wrapped it around his hand. Within a breath, he had her head tilted back. His other hand dug under her backside and seemed to push on her, leading her up. He was over her.


    Mouth to mouth.


    Her fingertips pressed down on her own bare thighs.


    It changed again.


    He released her hair, but he was hugging her again, and there was more tumbling.


    Between his kisses, there were smallughs. She could feel him trying not to smile.


    Liliana wondered if he thought he''d won something, which would be odd. She hadn''t fought him in a long time. There was no winning without conflict.

 Chapter 13 Please me!!

    When he stopped rolling her around, resting on his side and facing her, one of her shoes fell with the mattress''s forced slopes and fell against Liliana''s back, which made her say, "Ah."


    She stretched an arm out from his embrace and reached behind herself to get that shoe. Then she threw it as far as she could. She heard it lightly pat one of the curtains and then swipe its way down to the tform.


    On her nose and cheek, Lorryll''s breath fanned out. "The most excited sound you''ve made came from a shoe falling to you." She didn''t know how to decipher his inflection. Was he angry? Was he bored? Was he going to waste more time rolling around with her like a dog?


    "Please," she meekly said, "if I''ve displeased you, then you must correct my behaviour."


    She felt his fingers at her shoulder, then her nape. He was gathering her wild hair into a single bunch behind her. "Fret not, my wife. Now lie back."


    He put a little nudge to her, which prompted her to lie on her back. Liliana did so, but she made sure to pull her hair out from under herself.


    He leaned over and kissed her lips again. This time his tongue went in. Liliana''s eyes shut, and her fingernails scraped at the bed-sheets, making coarse little noises. But still, those old feelings she liked to ignore came back. Electricity ran through her body, even in her nails. Her tongue cared not for any hatred. It only wees the guest''s tempting caress.


    One of the man''s hands went to her cheek for a few seconds, then his fingers seemed to dance and y down her throat and corbone, then to her breast. There was a second where Liliana tensed and wondered if there would be pain.


    After all, that was a fragile part of her. But no, there wasn''t any pain. There was only the warmth and stimting texture of his skin. Then there was some pressure, enough to have her toes bending and one of her hands press into the man''s arm. It was such a great and thick limb; nothing soft about it. She even felt his veins and straining muscles.


    Liliana realized her nipple was hardening when a deep stroke of the palm met the tip. She made a little gasp against his tongue. He slid that tongue up as his head rose, and he murmured something she didn''t understand. It could''ve been a vulgar curse. His hand moved away, and with his breath as a guide, Liliana sensed his face moving too.


    Her free hand went to her wet mouth. She had to press hard when he put a kiss on her nipple.


    She was afraid of screaming. When his lips drew the nipple in, one of her legs kicked, a foot brushing against his leg. It was as if her lungs had strings being plucked.


    His face rose again, and he said in half a chuckle, "Ah, there''s no reward for prudence here."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Then he put his lips back to the spot and drew again. He even put his voice there, rumbling into her skin.


    Her fingers slipped. Her voice shot through the openings. Her back arched. She even felt pulling and tingling sensations in her groin.


    Just hurry. Please!


    Liliana wondered if her heart could give out from worrying over this slow torment.


    His body shifted again, his lips gone for the moment. She thought she had time to calm down, but if there had even been time for disappointment, she''d have had to deal with that.


    Lorryll actually put his tongue right above her navel and slid across her belly!


    What, did he think he''d taste something interesting there?!


    Her belly sunk. Her arms crossed over her bosom, despite theck of contact there.


    "Husband?"


    "Mmmm? Didn''t you say you wanted to please me?"

 Chapter 14 Intimatacy

    Well, she''d said she wanted to be corrected if she displeased him, but that was close enough.


    She didn''t know what to say to him.


    Liliana rubbed at her breast with her arm''s underside.


    His lips swiped around her belly again.


    Then he moved up, his fingertips moving with him, drawing little pathways against her flesh. He traced some of her ribs. One of his knees seemed to press on a spot in the mattress between her thighs.


    Liliana didn''t fully know why, but she tried to close her legs, rubbing her thighs and groin against the hot skin and almost prickly body hair. Her teeth gnashed as the strange feeling had her blushing all over. She didn''t have to see herself to know she was blushing. She felt the heat throbbing, in her hands, in her ears, and certainly in the most womanly parts that enjoyed the hair''s texture.


    Her hips rocked a little.


    That made it even better!


    Lorryllughed into her throat. Then he put a short, but wet kiss there and said in a teasing way, "I think the wifey likes me."


    Most certainly not!!


    A whiny, broken noise sounded in Liliana''s throat.


    And, likely just to bother her, he moved his leg a bit, putting more stimtion on her hotbia and fascinated little clitoris. Liliana put a fist to her lips and groaned even as mucus trickled out of her and was smeared about. Her nose felt overburdened by her quick breathing.


    His voice was still yful but low. "Oh?" Another stroke of his tongue, this time in a diagonal line up her neck. "You don''t like me? Not even by a whit?" One of his hands took her hip. "Fine. You don''t need to."


    She felt him adjust her position. She couldn''t feel his leg between hers anymore.


    She gave a tiny whine.


    He seemed to be kneeling before her. One of his hands took her ankle and guided her leg up against a good portion of his body. Her foot rotated. There was some popping in that ankle.


    His other hand slid down all the way to her thigh, then lower.


    Ah, here was something Liliana expected!


    His middle finger spread thebia apart, and it sunk in, easily lubricated by her juices. Liliana flexed and moaned. That responsive little patch inside her channel contracted. A stretching kind of pleasure flowed out. When his fingertip made a little swirling motion, Liliana cooed. Another finger slid in, and then Liliana was certain those two digits were moving apart.


    Was he stretching her ... wasn''t that good? It certainly felt good. Damn good.


    He was crooning down to her. She almost didn''t hear him. She wasn''t giving his voice much attention.


    The fingers left. They were on her thigh, moving that leg up to match its sister.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    He was... looming over... as if he wanted to cover her...


    Her feet were put back on the mattress, her legs bent.


    "A-ahh!"


    Liliana experienced a little moment of shock. The feeling between her legs was so tight it felt like she could snap. Her nose couldn''t take in all the breaths she made. Her mouth had to do most of the work. Her toes curled so hard that they picked up tiny portions of the nket. Her thighs quivered. In fact, one of the man''s hands sped her thigh in what might''ve been an attempt to calm her. There wasn''t much sess.


    She heard him whisper so hoarsely, "You''re not going to die."


    Right...


    She forced her mouth shut and put her breath through her nose. She silently told her arrogant muscles that they needed to stop overreacting. Perhaps that mostly worked. Her chest moved more calmly. Her feet rxed.


    No. He didn''t want her dead. Stop acting like a child. This was how the world functioned. This was meant to be. Actually, this was a good thing.


    One of her hands moved up to the chest above her. The palm met warm body hair. A quick brush of a motion, and she put her hand back down at her side. Liliana didn''t know why she did that.


    He was in her. That was how it was.


    It was thick and far reaching. Liliana had no experience in this matter. She couldn''t know if this erection was anyrger or smaller than an average size. She didn''t know what the average size was. Yet for her own, untried little space, this was certainly a huge thing.


    There was an involuntary little spasm in her body, which no doubt was felt by the erection. Lorryll groaned. Liliana heard his hands move to each side of her, likely with support from his arms. His fingers wed at the nket. She knew it because she heard that too.


    He pulled his hips back, dragging the erection back too.


    The tip wasn''t quite out when he pushed back in.


    Liliana gasped.


    He inhaled.


    He repeated the movement.


    Liliana gasped again.


    He exhaled...


    And truly began.


    Every thrust was quick. Liliana felt the force even on her legs and thighs. Her whole body was rocking with it.


    And she ... liked it?

 Chapter 15 Passion and desire

    She liked squeezing around the thick girth. She liked how her most responsive areas were stroked by the head. She liked how as more and more thrusts were given, more and more of her juices came, lubricating the movements, helping the man move even faster. That only made it better.


    Slick. Hot. Putting her in an odd stupor. Time was insignificant. If it was bright enough to see, any details would be insignificant too.


    This!


    She didn''t know she''d said this until a moment after it left her lips. "Ah! Please!"


    He made a sound that was one partughter and two parts a snort. He didn''t slow down, though. In fact, a few times he even gave what might''ve been the beginnings of a roar, as if he wanted to restrain his voice.


    At the point where they joined, Liliana felt the building, the gathering. It was a more intense version of what she''d felt before, during those hushed little "discussions."


    Her breasts were even bouncing. It was so wild!


    Then she spasmed so quickly, so nearly painfully, that she almost couldn''t breathe. Her muscles nearly cramped.


    She could only scream.


    A burning pleasure. It wouldn''t end. Wasn''t it supposed to?!


    She thought she heard something. Was that Lorryll? He was shouting. Yes! Yes! Was that it?


    It wouldn''t end.


    More and more. Pressing and sucking on that erection. Every inch inside felt as if it needed that heavy pounding.


    Yes!!


    This was the end for her, right? Her muscles soon stopped tensing. The pleasure faded into something dull. Her heart was still excited but not as frantic. The end for him shoulde soon, right? She knew where children came from.


    He muted something. "Good. Very good." Liliana could hear it this time. She was making tiny noises in her throat instead of screaming.


    Then a rush.


    Not her. Not quite. It was a rush of more movement. He wasn''t slowing down. He had one of her legs in the air. Liliana coughed and tried to anticipate the second end. The part where the husband was meant to supply his seed. Oh hurry! Please hurry! Once it''s over with, it would be one less thing to fuss over!


    He was calling her a darling, a delight, a pretty little fairy. Silly things. And he was going. And going. More.


    The dullness was reced. More throbbing, consuming pleasure. Liliana felt her own eyes rolling back. Her breath was sharp again. Her belly ached, but she didn''t mind.


    A new beginning?


    Is that what was happening?


    A few more nonsense noises were brought out from her. Then she was screaming again.


    It was so much! Too much!


    She held onto him.


    When ... when will ...?


    It took what seemed to be an eternity. During that period, Liliana''s body had to endure so many more ends.


    He was a human, or Liliana assumed so. He did have his end eventually, but at that time, when he finally had irregrity in his thrusts and when he cursed and put one final and searing movement inside, Liliana couldn''t scream anymore. Her voice was gone. All she could do was wheeze with little life.


    Over. It was over. He pulled away from her with a very satisfied little grunt. It was an empty moment. Something was trickling out of Liliana and rolling down her thighs. It was a good sign, but she was too exhausted to acknowledge it.


    Maybe two minutes went on, and Lorryll put another bounce in the mattress as he moved up and crawled on out of the bed. Liliana saw a spot of light when the curtains parted. Then she heard bare feet lightly pping the tform''s steps.


    Maybe four more minutester, and there was another spot of light and more bouncing. His voice was hoarse, but there was good humour in it.


    "You should be wiped clean."


    She didn''t respond. She likely couldn''t.


    After a little exhale, Lorryll said, "I''ll help you."


    More light, although it was still weak. He was likely trying to use what he could. He''d tied a curtain back. Then he moved in close, touching her. There was a wet cloth. Liliana felt it. He was cleaning away all the excess sweat, mucus, and semen.


    "You must be thirsty," he said.


    Yes. She was. She even coughed up into the air.


    He took her wrist and tugged on her. "Come on."


    She tried to get into a crawling position. She copsed. Her facended right on the mattress.


    She heard him softlyughing again. "You''ll sit on one of the steps. I''ll bring the water to you."


    Overall, it was still quite the feat for her. Her legs didn''t function properly. He had to adjust her legs for her. When he was certain that she was safely seated on one of the steps, her legs on the rest, he left her alone for a moment. The room was still dark, but the candles were pretty. Liliana was able to vaguely think of unimportant things.


    Lorryll returned with a cup of water. He even helped her hold it to take a sip. He looked fine, nude, really. Muscles and scars. He didn''t even have a pouch-like belly that often came from excess. There was a belly, though. Everyone had a belly. How else could the organs be safely held? Regardless, he had the pleasing muscles that many women would''ve admired. He had the height that some men would envy. He had the clever grin that all would be intrigued by. He even had the happy eyes that even dogs would love to be under.


    And Liliana simply...N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Concentrated on drinking water.


    Sleeping beside the man was much less taxing on the brain and body. He was actually fairly distant. He gave her enough room to toss around and even fluff her pillows when needed.


    She thought he might''ve even kept his back to her for most of the night. He was also quiet. She''d expected random throat clearing or snoring. It was obvious that he was there. His warmth was right there. His breathing, as rxed as it was, was clear. Still, Liliana had no difficulty with him with him. He didn''t have any greed with the nket. He didn''t even press onto her hair.


    It was a fine respite. Since it was done right after that great exercise, Liliana didn''t have any problems drifting away to sleep.

 Chapter 16 New arrival

    The first rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Sandornen.


    On a secluded balcony overlooking the vast grounds, two figures stood entwined, wrapped in a single nket that barely concealed their nakedness.


    Liliana Naemarys, now Liliana Kaezr, gazed at the horizon with wonder in her eyes, her long silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her curves were hard to miss even with the nket covering her figure.


    Beside her, Lorryll Kaezr, her newly wedded husband, held her close, his strong arms a fortress of warmth against the cool morning air. His dark eyes, the colour of burnished copper, swept over the bustling activity below them.


    The Kaezr n''s eldest son''s wedding had been a spectacle unlike any other, and even now, as dawn broke, the celebrations showed no sign of abating. The estate grounds, spanning at least five to ten acres, teemed with life. The estate''s majestic gardens were filled with colourful flowers and exotic nts, while servants scurried about preparing for the day ahead.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Servants scurried about, clearing the remnants of the previous night''s feast. Knights in gleaming armour patrolled the perimeter, their chainmail clinking softly with each step.


    Massive warhorses, their coats gleaming in the early morning light, the knights riding in a uniform formation, ready to depart on their daily rounds. The estate was a hive of activity, bustling with energy and anticipation for the adventures thaty ahead.


    In the distance, a menagerie of groups of beasts caught Liliana''s eye.


    Knights who dressed in gold armour stood proudly alongside enormous wolves, their silver fur rippling in the breeze. A group of scaled reptilian mounts¡ªdraykhounds, as they were called¡ªsnapped yfully at each other, their riders struggling to keep them in check.


    Lorryll''s voice, deep and rich like warm honey, broke through Liliana''s reverie. "Dear wifey, how about we move to our own ce?"


    Surprised, Liliana turned to face him, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity. "Can we go from here?" she asked her voice a mix of excitement and hesitation.


    Lorryll nodded a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We can."


    Liliana''s heart raced at the prospect. She had always known that marriage would bring changes, but the sudden possibility of leaving Sandornen. She thought she would be staying here, and now it would be her new home forever among the castle full of unknown people.


    "But where would we go?" She asked, her fingers absently tracing Lorryll''s chest.


    Lorryll smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. "I have a surprise for you, my love. But first, we must keep our preparations in secret. The politics of our union are... delicate."


    Liliana nodded, understanding all too well theplexities of their marriage. The union of the Kaezr and Naemarys ns was more than just a joining of two hearts; it was a carefully orchestrated political manoeuvre, designed to bring peace to two powerful houses that had been at odds for generations.


    As they stood there, contemting their future, amotion from below caught their attention. A group of elven emissaries, their lithe forms graceful even in their haste, were being escorted into the main hall of the estate. Their arrival was unexpected, and Liliana could see the guards tightening their formation around the new guests.

 Chapter 17 Elf emissary

    "The Sylvan Enve," Lorryll murmured, his brow furrowing. "What business brings them here so early?"


    Liliana shivered, and not from the cold. The presence of the elves could mean many things, none of them simple. "Perhaps they''vee to offer their blessings on our union?" she suggested, though her tone betrayed her doubt.


    Lorryll''sugh was without humour. "The Sylvan Enve does not concern itself with the marriages of humans, my dear. No, they''re here for something else."


    A sharp rap on their chamber door startled them both as if on cue. Liliana clutched the nket tighter around herself as Lorryll called out, "Who goes there?"


    "My lord, mydy," came the muffled response, "your presence is requested in the great hall immediately. It''s a matter of utmost urgency."


    Lorryll and Liliana exchanged a look of concern. Their moment of peace had been all too brief.


    "We''ll be there shortly," Lorryll replied, already moving towards the pile of discarded clothes from the night before.


    As they dressed hurriedly, Liliana couldn''t shake the feeling of unease.


    She fastened thest button on her gown, a creation of finest silk in the deep blue of her family''s colours, and turned to her husband.


    Lorryll, now d in the ck and crimson of House Kaezr, cut an imposing figure. He reached out and cupped Liliana''s face in his hands. "Don''t worry, it''s not something we should trouble ourselves with."


    Liliana nodded, drawing strength from his words and the fire in his eyes. Together, they left the sanctuary of their chamber and descended into the unknown.


    -*-


    The great hall of Sandornen was a marvel of architecture, its vaulted ceilings supported by massive columns of white marble veined with gold. Tapestries depicting the storied history of House Kaezr adorned the walls, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that now permeated the air.


    As Lorryll and Liliana entered, all the members of the house were already present, and his father, the n patriarch, was seated at the centre.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Lord Caelum Kaezr, the patriarch, remained stoic as he watched the hall. Beside him, Lady Elowen Kaezr, his wife, wore a nk expression when she saw both of them enter.


    Facing them were the Elven emissaries from the Sylvan Enve. Their leader, a tall, willowy figure with eyes like liquid silver, stepped forward.


    "Lord Kaezr," the elf said, his voice melodious yet tinged with urgency. "I am Thar, Emissary of the Sylvan Enve. We bring grave tidings."


    The patriarch inclined his head respectfully. "Speak, Emissary Thar. What news is so dire that it brings you to our doors at dawn?"


    Thar''s eyes darted around the room before settling back on the newlyweds. "The seers of the Enve have had a vision. A darkness stirs in the North, beyond the Frostspine Mountains. The ancient enemy we thought long defeated is rising once more."


    A collective gasp rippled through the assembled crowd. Elowen felt her blood run cold. The ancient enemy ¨C it could only mean one thing.

 Chapter 18 War is coming

    "The nyphorites," she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    Thar nodded solemnly. "Indeed, mydy. Our visions show his corrupted forces massing in the frozen wastes. If left unchecked, they will sweep down upon ournds like a tide of death and decay."


    "The oracle has told us about the uing doom; she implored us all to make haste and prepare for the war. As the war was imminent." The urgency in Thar''s words struck them all.


    "We must immediately start praying to the great god Xaereus," one of the elders in the hall shouted.


    Murmur erupted in the hall. The Nyphorites are said to be abyssal creatures that existed even before the gods existed, and they feed on souls and on the blood of gods. But Xaereus had killed them long ago and sealed their bodies away in the frozen wastes.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Lord Caelum stepped forward, his voice booming in the cavernous hall. "This is grave news indeed, but why bring it to us? You should have taken this matter to the emperor instead."


    A wry smile touched Thar''s lips. "You underestimate your own importance, Lord Kaezr. The union of your house with House Naemarys has shifted the bnce of power in thesends. Yourbined strength may be the key to stopping this threat before it engulfs us all."


    Liliana felt Lorryll tense beside her. She knew he was thinking the same thing she was¡ªtheir marriage, meant to bring peace, might now be the catalyst for war.


    "What would you propose we do then?" The patriarch asked, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.


    Thar''s silver eyes seemed to bore into them. "We propose an alliance. In a few days, there will be a meeting held in the empire, and if we share the same goal, then I ask the Lord to join us in the meeting."


    Liliana''s mind reeled. This was not how she had imagined spending her first days as a married woman. She had dreamed of quiet moments with Lorryll, of learning to navigate their new life together. Instead, they were being thrust into the heart of a conflict that threatened to engulf the entire world.


    As if sensing her turmoil, Lorryll squeezed her hand gently.


    The patriarch fell silent for a moment and pondered. When he spoke, his voice was nk and devoid of emotion. The threat of the nyphorites may indeed be dangerous, but he couldn''t just agree with the alliance. There were other powerhouses in the empire, and he needed to act based on their motives, considering his own interests as well.


    "We will need time to consider this proposal, Emissary Thar. Such decisions cannot be made lightly."


    Thar bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Of course, my Lord. But I implore you to decide quickly. Every day we dy, which gives the enemy more time to gather his strength."


    Lord Caelum cleared his throat, drawing everyone''s attention. "I will send my word very soon."


    Liliana felt a touch on her arm as the assembly began to disperse. She turned to see Lady Elowen, looking at her with concern.


    "Come, my dear," Elowen said softly. "Let us talk in private."

 Chapter 19 Sword of the void

    Liliana looked to Lorryll, who nodded encouragingly. "Go. I need to speak with my father. We''ll meet again soon."


    With a heavy heart, Liliana followed her mother-inw out of the great hall and into the quiet solitude of the family''s private gardens.


    The whole house had turned into a chatter as the patriarch had left. This was a huge deal, and the children of the house saw it as an opportunity to prove their worth and earn the approval of their father.


    The n had started to undergo major changes, and it would be for the uing war.


    -*-


    As the world shifted and alliances formed in the south, a very different scene was unfolding in the frozen north. Far beyond the politics and machinations of the great houses, where the ice mountains pierced the sky like the teeth of some primordial beast, a lone figure stood in defiance of nature itself.


    The young man''s breath misted in the frigid air, but he showed no signs of difort. Two scabbards hung at his waist, their presence a promise of lethal skill. In his hands, he held a long sword, gripping it with the familiarity of a master and his chosen instrument.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    His long ck hair fluttered in the cold wind as it whistled past him. The long ck robe was tied at the waist, and his forearms rippled with power as he tightened his grip around the handle of the sword.


    His gaze was fixed on the towering mountain before him, his eyes reflecting a determination that bordered on the inhuman. His lone six-foot two inch figure stood in the snowy barrennd, with the breeze getting stronger and the clouds starting to form above him.


    As he stood there, a change began to ur. A faint golden hue emanated from his body, growing stronger with each passing moment. The air around him began to shimmer with heat, the snow at his feet melting away as if spring hade in an instant.


    The cold breeze that howled around him seemed to have no effect. It was as if the elements themselves recognized his mastery and bowed before him.


    With a controlled breath, the young man raised his sword. The movement was deliberate, almost agonizingly slow, butden with a profound power that made the very air tremble.


    "VOIDSLASH," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of cosmic forces.


    The sword fell, and with it, reality itself seemed to tear. A golden arc of light, brilliant and terrible, erupted from the de. It shot forward with impossible speed, cleaving thend as it passed.


    Snow, rock, and air parted before it like water.


    When the arc of light struck the mountain, there was a moment of absolute silence. Then, with a sound like the world being born anew, the mountain split in two. But the Voidsh did not stop there. It continued onwards, sundering peak after peak, leaving a path of destruction that stretched beyond the horizon.


    The ground shook violently, the reverberations of the strike echoing through the earth like the footsteps of giants. The very air seemed to pause, the falling snow suspended for a heartbeat before resuming its descent.


    Through it all, the young man stood unmoved. Not a single pebble touched him, not a single snowke marred his form. He was an ind of perfect calm in a sea of chaos.


    As the echoes of his strike faded and the dust began to settle, the young man''s expression remained unchanged. Where others might have felt triumph or awe at such a disy of power, he felt only a gnawing dissatisfaction. In his mind, he was stillcking, still not strong enough for the trials thaty ahead.


    *


    As the dust settled and the echoes of his earth-shattering attack faded into the distance, the young man remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the devastation before him. The once-proud mountain range nowy in ruins, a testament to the young warrior''s incredible power.


    From behind him came the sound ofboured breathing and the crunch of debris underfoot. An old man, his face weathered by time and experience, struggled through the wreckage towards the young man. Despite the difficulty of his journey, determination shone in his eyes.


    "Young master Jolthar," the old man called out as he finally reached the stoic warrior, "are you all right? What in the heavens'' name is this?"

 Chapter 20 Chase in the forest

    Jolthar turned to face the neer, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. He sheathed his long sword into one of the scabbards at his waist with practiced ease.


    "Ah, Uncle Colinus," Jolthar replied, his voice carrying a hint of warmth that had been absent during his training. "I''m sorry. It was my goal to sh this mountain, and I have aplished that now. Shall we leave?"


    Colinus''s eyes widened in surprise and delight. The old man had been visiting periodically to check on his young master, but Jolthar had never before expressed a willingness to leave the mountain. This simple statement filled Colinus with joy.


    As they began their journey back to Stormholme Keep, Colinus couldn''t help but marvel at the young man beside him. He had seen his fair share of swordsmanship in his long life, but what Jolthar had just aplished shook him to his core.


    To possess such devastating power at such a young age¡ªit was almost beyondprehension. The old man found himself wondering just how strong Jolthar truly was and what fate had in store for this prodigious warrior.


    The trek back to Stormholme Keep was long, but Jolthar showed no signs of fatigue. If anything, he seemed energized by the prospect of returning to civilization after his self-imposed exile in the mountains.


    £þ£þ£þ£þ£þ£þ * £þ£þ£þ£þ£þ£þ


    In the thick forest near the Stormholme Keep, a few miles from the Keep, the dense forest was alive with the sounds of desperate flight and relentless pursuit.


    Leaves rustled and branches snapped as a woman in her thirties raced through the undergrowth, a five-year-old child clutched tightly to her chest; her hands held the child tightly to herself.


    Her breath came as frantic and her face pale, and she was exhausted, but she never stopped. Blood stained her clothing, evidence of wounds sustained during her frantic escape, yet she pressed on with grim determination.


    Behind her, closing in with every passing moment, were her pursuers¡ªmen dressed in nondescript grey clothing, their faces obscured but their intent clear in the ferocity of their chase. They couldn''t be described as their faces were also covered by the grey cloth, leaving only the eyes.


    For a week, this deadly game of cat and mouse had yed out in the wilderness, but now it was drawing to its inevitable conclusion. Though she didn''t know for how much time she had been running, she fought and killed, and their pursuers were relentless.


    The woman burst out of the treeline onto a well-worn path, hope ring in her eyes at the sight of open ground.


    But fate had other ns.


    A dagger, thrown with deadly uracy, embedded itself in her upper shoulder.


    With a cry of pain, she stumbled and fell, her body curling protectively around the child as they hit the ground.


    In moments, the grey-d men had surrounded her, their weapons drawn and gleaming in the dappled forest light. One man, clearly the leader, stepped forward, his voice cold and devoid of mercy.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    "Woman, hand over the child and meet your death," he demanded.


    Another of the pursuers, his breathing in ragged gasps, spoke up. "Why don''t we take her to the woods before killing her? She made us chase for a week, and we''ve been stuck in this ce for days."


    The leader''s response was swift and harsh. "Shut up! Don''t you understand we''re alreadyte?"


    Despite her injuries and the hopelessness of her situation, the woman''s resolve remained unbroken. "I won''t give her up," she dered, her voice weak but unwavering. "Even if I die, I won''t."


    "Then die," the leader snarled, raising his sword for the killing blow.

 Chapter 21 Vicious beings

    But as the de descended, it met unexpected resistance.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    The sh of metal on metal rang out, and suddenly the air was thick with an overwhelming aura of power. The grey-d men stumbled backward, their eyes wide with shock and fear.


    Standing between the fallen woman and her would-be executioners was a figure that seemed to have materialised from thin air¡ªJolthar, his long sword unsheathed and pointed directly at the aggressors. His eyes, usually calm and detached, now burnt with a cold fury.


    The leader of the grey-d men found his voice first. "Who... are you?" he demanded, unable topletely mask the tremor in his voice. As he watched the young man before him, there was undeniable oppressive force emtting from him that made him be wary of Jolthar.


    Jolthar''s response was cool and measured. "I could ask the same."


    Frustration warred on the leader''s face.


    Finally, anger won out. "What are you watching?" he shouted at his men. "Kill him!"


    As the grey-d assants readied their weapons, Jolthar''s grip on his sword tightened. The air around him began to shimmer with that familiar golden hue, a silent warning of the devastating power he could unleash at any moment.


    Behind him, the wounded woman watched in awe, clutching her child closer. She didn''t know who this young warrior was or why he had intervened, but in that moment, he represented herst, desperate hope for survival.


    The forest fell silent, as if holding its breath. The grey-d men hesitated, their earlier confidence evaporating in the face of this unexpected threat.


    Jolthar stood unmoved, a living barrier between innocence and malevolence. He couldn''t just standby when an innocent child and woman were getting killed.


    The forest clearing crackled with tension as Jolthar stood, an immovable barrier between the wounded woman with her child and the grey-d assants. The cold wind whipped through the trees, carrying with it a sense of impending violence. Jolthar''s eyes focused on all the grey d men surrounded. It was the first battle; ever since he started practicing, a faint smile crossed his lips, as he couldn''t wait to see his results of training all these years.


    The leader''smand to attack hung in the air, a silent challenge that neither side seemed eager to answer first.


    Jolthar''s eyes narrowed, his keen senses picking up subtle shifts in the attackers'' stances. They were coordinating, preparing for a synchronised assault. His grip on his sword tightened imperceptibly.


    "Last chance," Jolthar said, his voice low and dangerous. "Walk away now, and you may yet live to see another sunrise."


    The leader''s response was a harsh, gutturalugh that seemed to emanate from somewhere deeper than his throat. "You have no idea what you''re dealing with, boy. Kill him!"


    In that instant, the clearing exploded into action.


    Three of the grey-d figures lunged forward simultaneously, their movements unnaturally swift and fluid. Jolthar''s sword shed in the dappled sunlight, meeting the first attacker''s de with a resounding ng. Sparks flew as he deflected the second strike, twisting his body to avoid the third.


    The air around Jolthar began to shimmer with a golden hue, the first manifestation of his Voidwrath power. As he parried and countered, each movement became more fluid, more precise, as if the very fabric of space was bending to amodate his will.


    One of the attackers overextended, and Jolthar capitalised instantly. His de sang through the air, cleaving through the grey cloak and biting deep into flesh. But instead of blood, a thick, ck ichor oozed from the wound. The attacker stumbled back, its mask slipping to reveal a face that was decidedly inhuman¡ªpale, waxy skin stretched tight over sharp, angr features, with eyes that glowed an unnatural violet.


    "Nynthrals," Jolthar breathed, recognition and disgust mingling in his voice.

 Chapter 22 The might of void

    He had studied about them when he spent his time in the library in the stormholme keep.


    The revtion sent a chill through the clearing. The woman who was holding the child gasped, and the old man Colinus also


    Nynthrals were creatures of legend, nightmarish beings known for their cunning, their cruelty, and their insatiable hunger for human flesh. Their presence here, hunting a woman and child, spoke of dark purposes beyond simple violence.


    The wounded Nynthral let out an inhuman shriek and charged at Jolthar with renewed ferocity. Itspanions joined the assault, their earlier caution forgotten in a frenzy of shing ws and gnashing teeth.


    Jolthar''s Voidwrath surged in response to the escting threat. Golden energy crackled along the length of his de as he met the onught head-on. Each swing of his sword left trails of light in its wake, cutting through the air with impossible speed and precision.


    Power of Voidwrath, granted by the goddess, Jolthar had been honing this power, incorporating it with his sword skills. And so far, the result was nothing marvellous.


    Two Nynthrals fell in quick session; their bodies fell to the ground. But for each one that fell, the others seemed to grow stronger, faster, and more desperate in their attacks.


    The leader of the Nynthrals circled the fray, its violet eyes fixed on the child still clutched in the wounded woman''s arms. "The child," it hissed, its voice a discordant mix of tones that set teeth on edge. "We must have the child!"


    Jolthar, caught in a deadly dance with three Nynthrals simultaneously, couldn''t spare the breath to question this cryptic statement. His world had narrowed to the rhythm ofbat¡ªparry, thrust, dodge, strike.


    The Voidwrath hummed through his veins, enhancing his already formidable skills to superhuman levels.


    One Nynthral managed to slip past Jolthar''s guard, its ws raking across his arm. Pain red, hot and sharp, but Jolthar didn''t falter. As it was his first battle, and moreover, he was fighting the ferocious battle crazed Nynthrals. Instead, he channelled the pain into his Voidwrath, causing the golden aura around him to intensify.


    "VOID BURST!" Jolthar roared, releasing a concussive wave of energy as he held the neck of Nynthral, and as a result, he was sted into pieces. The explosive power that emerged from Jolthar left no room for escape.


    Taking advantage of the momentary respite, Jolthar spun to face the leader, who had used the distraction to approach the woman and child.


    With some thought, Jolthar activated one of his most powerful techniques¡ªthe voidstep.


    In the blink of an eye, he vanished from where he stood, reappearing between the Nynthral leader and its intended victims.


    The Nynthral recoiled in surprise but quickly recovered, baring sharp, needle-like teeth in a grotesque approximation of a smile. "Impressive, boy. But futile. You cannot stop us, not now, not ever."


    "Whatever your ns," Jolthar said, his voice steady despite the exertion of battle, "they end here."


    The Nynthral leader''s only response was a bone-chilling shriek as itunched itself at Jolthar with inhuman speed. Its ws, dripping with a sickly green venom, shed at Jolthar''s face.


    He ducked and weaved, his sword a blur of golden light as he parried and countered.


    The remaining Nynthrals joined their leader, turning the clearing into a whirlwind of shing ws, gnashing teeth, and shing steel.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Jolthar found himself hard-pressed, fighting with every ounce of skill and power at his disposal.


    A particrly vicious strike sent Jolthar stumbling backward. He felt his back press against the trunk of a massive oak, and for a moment, it seemed the Nynthrals had him cornered. The leader''s eyes gleamed with triumphant malice as it closed in for the kill.

 Chapter 23 Little girl

    But Jolthar had been waiting for precisely this moment. As the Nynthrals converged on him, he channelled everyst bit of his energy into his de. The sword began to vibrate, emitting a high-pitched whine that set teeth on edge and caused the very air to ripple.


    VOIDBLARE!! Jolthar swung his sword in a wide arc.


    The result was catalytic.


    A wave of golden energy, as wide as the clearing itself, erupted from the de. It swept outward with the force of a tsunami, engulfing the Nynthrals in its destructive embrace.


    Trees splintered, the ground cracked, and the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend under the onught of Voidwrath energy. Jolthar watched the havoc with intent; he could tell that he wasn''t able to fully utilise the power of voidwrath. It was because he very well knew how vast the power was. When he first tried to use the voidwrath, his body couldn''t stand against the explosive nature of the power, and he had a hard time controlling and adapting to it.


    When he released the attack, he felt like he wasn''t releasing just energy, but a force that could consume everything in its path. The destructive potential of voidwrath both frightened and fascinated him, making him realise the immensity of the power. And he just scratched the surface as he felt like he cut the tip of an iceberg.


    When the light faded and the dust settled, the clearing had been transformed into a devastated wastnd. Where once stood mighty oaks, now only shattered stumps remained. The ground was scored with deep furrows, as if a giant had raked its ws across the earth.


    And of the Nynthrals, there was no sign of their bodies.


    Jolthar stood at the centre of the destruction, his sword lowered but still thrumming with residual energy. His breathing was heavy, but he was calm. For now, the threat has been neutralized.


    Or so he thought.


    A weak, gurglingugh drew his attention.


    The Nynthral leader, its body broken and dissolving,y half-buried under a fallen tree. Its violet eyes, though dimming, still burnt with malevolent purpose.


    "Fool," it croaked, ck ichor bubbling from its mouth. "You''ve only dyed the inevitable. The child... the child is marked. Others wille. The abyss hungers, and it will not be denied."


    With a final, shuddering breath, the Nynthral leader choked out hisst breath, leaving behind only questions and a sense of foreboding.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Jolthar turned to the woman and child, who had miraculously survived the devastation unscathed.


    The woman''s eyes were wide with a mixture of awe and fear as she beheld the young warrior who had single-handedly defeated a pack of Nynthrals. The beings that are said to be most dangerous and fiercely powerful are associated with God ofherworld. Not one, but there were a dozen of them, and he handled them alone.


    She got up and checked up on the child, and then she turned to him. "Thank you," she whispered, clutching the child closer. "You saved us."


    Jolthar moved near her, his keen eyes examining the child. She appeared normal at first nce¡ªa typical five-year-old girl with curious eyes and a mop of unruly hair. Surprisingly, the child never cried or showed any signs of disturbed.

 Chapter 24 Papa

    Colinus, who had hidden behind a rock, came forward and stood beside Jolthar. He checked if the old man was all right, and fortunately, nothing happened to Colinus.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    "Can you walk?" he asked the woman.


    She nodded, struggling to her feet with the child in her arms. Jolthar supported her, his eyes scanning the treeline for threats.


    "I''m Jolthar," he said as they began to move. "What''s your name? And the child''s?"


    "I''m Katerina," the woman replied, her voice strained with pain and exhaustion. "And this is Yanna. Thank you, again, for protecting us."


    She asked, "Can you protect us until we leave this forest? It''s important, please. I need to get this child to safety."


    He looked at Colinus, and the old man said, "Young master, those creatures are dangerous, and we can''t leave a child and leave. We can take her to the keep, and I can arrange for her to stay until she wants."


    Jolthar nodded and agreed to her request.


    As they trudged through the forest, Katerina''s strength began to wane. Jolthar, noticing her faltering steps, gently took Yanna into his arms, allowing Katerina to lean on him for support.


    "Jolthar," Katerina said, weak but urgent, "I need to tell you something. Yanna... she needs to be sent to my sister, her mother. It''s crucial for her safety."


    Until she felt it was safe and saw that Jolthar didn''t question why those creatures chased after the child and what they were doing in the forest. She felt Jolthar was a good man; he may be able to help her.


    Jolthar''s brow furrowed. "Your sister? I thought you were her mother."


    Katerina shook her head, a sad smile ying on her lips. "I''ve raised her as my own, but her true mother is my sister. She entrusted Yanna to me for protection."


    "And who is your sister?" Jolthar asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "Azura of the Blue Rose Seraglio," Katerina replied, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and trepidation.


    Jolthar nearly stumbled in shock. The Blue Rose Seraglio was legendary¡ªan elite, all-female organisation renowned for its unparalleledbat skills, political acumen, and mastery of ancient magics. They operated from the shadows, influencing the course of nations and safeguarding ancient secrets.


    "By the gods," Colinus breathed. "No wonder the Nynthrals were after you. But why separate Yanna from her mother in the first ce?"


    Katerina''s eyes darted nervously around the forest. "It''s...plicated. I can''t tell you the details as it involves my sister and this child."


    As they talked, little Yanna had been watching Jolthar with wide, curious eyes. Suddenly, she reached up and patted his cheek with a chubby hand. "Papa?" she said, her voice small but clear.


    Jolthar froze, his eyes widening in panic. "Uh, no, little one. I''m not your papa. I''m just... helping."


    Yanna''s lower lip trembled dangerously. "But... you protect. Like papa." Seeing how he protected her and her aunt, Yanna thought that Jolthar was her father. Katerina then said, "I''m sorry; she may have thought of you like that because of how you protected her from them. I used to tell her stories about her father, and she maybe thought that you were him."


    Jolthar didn''t know what to say, "Oh, is that so?"

 Chapter 25 Papa Jolthar - 2

    Katerina couldn''t help but chuckle despite their dire situation. "She''s not wrong, you know. You''ve been quite the guardian angel."


    Jolthar''s face flushed red, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanour. "I... that''s not... I mean..."


    His flustered response only made Yanna giggle, her earlier distress forgotten. "Funny papa," she dered, snuggling closer to him.


    Katerina''sughter joined her niece''s. "Well, it seems you''ve been drafted into the family, ''Papa'' Jolthar."


    Jolthar felt flustered hearing a grown woman call her papa.


    Jolthar grumbled good-naturedly but couldn''t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. It had been a long time since he''d felt such simple, uplicated affection.


    As they neared Stormholme Keep, Jolthar''s expression grew serious once more. "Katerina, you and Yanna will be safe here for now."


    Katerina nodded, her own expression filled with gratitude. "Thank you; we won''t stay for much longer, and I will leave as soon as I hear from my sister."


    The imposing gates of Stormholme Keep loomed before them, a promise of temporary sanctuary in a world that had suddenly be far more dangerous andplex than Jolthar had ever imagined.


    -N?v(el)B\\jnn


    -


    The next few days at Stormholme Keep passed in a whirlwind of activity. While messengers were discreetly sent to contact the Blue Rose Seraglio, Jolthar found himself in the unexpected role of protector and ymate to young Yanna.


    Despite his initial awkwardness, Jolthar found himself warming to the child''s innocent affection. Yanna, for her part, seemed to have decided that Jolthar was her new favourite person in the world.


    One sunny afternoon found them in the keep''s gardens, Jolthar attempting to meditate while Yanna mbered all over him like he was her personal climbing frame.


    "Papa Jolthar!" she squealed, hanging upside down from his arm. "y swords!"


    Jolthar cracked open one eye, trying and failing to maintain his serious demeanour. "Yanna, I''m trying to focus."


    Yanna''s face scrunched up in concentration, clearly trying to mimic Jolthar''s meditative pose. She managed to stay still for all five seconds before dissolving into giggles andunching herself at him again.


    From a nearby bench, Katerina watched the scene with a mixture of amusement and mncholy.


    "She''s never had a father figure before," she said softly. "It''s good to see her so happy, especially after everything that''s happened."


    Jolthar, now resigned to being a human jungle gym, nodded thoughtfully. "She''s a remarkable child. I''ve never seen anyone so resilient."


    As if to prove his point, Yanna chose that moment to attempt a somersault off Jolthar''s shoulders.


    He caught her just in time, swinging her around and eliciting peals of delightedughter.


    "Papa strong!" Yanna dered, hugging Jolthar tightly around the neck.


    Jolthar felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a feeling so foreign and yet so wee that it almost scared him. He had spent so long focused solely on honing his skills, on bing the perfect warrior, that he had forgotten what it felt like to simply be... human.


    The feeling that little one''s life depended on him made him terrified, yet at the same time, he felt a sense of purpose and fulfilment that he had never experienced before. Seeing Yanna giggle around him raised a question in his mind: Will he be able to have a family of his own in this world?


    Right from the moment when he decided to live as Jolthar, he abandoned the thought of family and feelings; he solely focused on the sword and the training, and it helped him tremendously.

 Chapter 26 His cousin is here

    The days fell into a pleasant routine. Mornings were spent training, with Jolthar dividing his time between honing his Voidwrath techniques and swordsmithing. He never stopped it, just helped around the workshop as it kept his mind at ease.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Afternoons were devoted to Yanna, filled with games, stories, and impromptu lessons on everything from history to basic magic theory.


    Evenings found the three of them gathered in Jolthar''s chambers, sharing meals and conversation. Yanna would invariably fall asleep curled up beside him, her little face peaceful in slumber.


    It was during one such evening, as Jolthar carefully tucked a sleeping Yanna into bed, that Katerina broached a subject that had clearly been weighing on her mind.


    "Jolthar," she said softly, "I... I want to thank you. Not just for saving us, but for everything you''ve done since. I''ve never seen Yanna so happy, so at ease."


    Jolthar felt a lump form in his throat. "I... It''s nothing. She''s a special child. And you have already thanked me enough."


    Katerina shook her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "It''s not nothing. You''ve given her something she''s never had before¡ªa sense of safety, of family. I don''t know what the future holds, but I want you to know how much this time has meant to both of us."


    Jolthar opened his mouth to respond, but words failed him. Instead, he reached out and squeezed Katerina''s hand, hoping the gesture could convey what he couldn''t articte.


    A sharp knock at the door broke the morning''s quiet. Colinus entered, his usuallyposed demeanour noticeably disturbed. "Young master, you muste out immediately."


    Jolthar had never seen the old man so uneasy. Something was clearly amiss. Turning to Katerina, he spoke with quiet authority, "Stay in this room with Yanna. Don''te out until I return."


    Once in the corridor, Jolthar faced Colinus. "What''s the matter? Why are you so anxious?"


    "Young master, Lady ra is here."


    The words hit Jolthar like a physical blow. "What!" he eximed, memories flooding back unbidden. Years had passed since he''dst seen his cousin, but the wounds she''d inflicted remained fresh. He could still remember how she had conspired with his brothers, how they had tortured him in ways that left scars both visible and hidden. Not a single detail had faded from his memory.


    The front yard of Stormholme Keep bustled with activity when they arrived. Among the horses and men, two figures stood out¡ªa woman with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, and beside her, a man who towered over everyone else in the yard.


    "What''s she doing here?" Jolthar''s voice was tight with controlled emotion.


    Colinus moved closer, speaking in hushed tones. "That man," he indicated the giant beside ra, "is the rising star of the young generation. Despiteing from a lower noble family, he''s made quite a name for himself as the strongest warrior." The old man''s voice dropped even lower.


    "Young master, Lady ra has defied the n''s wishes to be his lover."


    Before Jolthar could respond, ra''s eyes found him. She approached with deliberate steps, herpanion following like a looming shadow.


    Jolthar took a deep breath, centring himself as she drew near.


    ra took her time studying him, and Jolthar returned the scrutiny. She had changed¡ªher face had matured, though he doubted her nature had evolved as much as her appearance. With arms crossed, she broke the tense silence. "Well, well, well, gods be damned! Look at you, cousin; now you''re looking like half the man."

 Chapter 27 Rising star

    A smirk yed across Jolthar''s lips, his eyes gleaming with barely contained disdain. "And you''re looking like half the woman you used to be¡ªmust be the bun holding back all that charm."


    The giant beside her, Myron, surprised them both with a boomingugh. His hand rested casually on his sword hilt, but his face held genuine warmth. "HAhaha! You two are funny."


    Then he straightened his posture. "Well met, Young Master!" he greeted, inclining his head. "You must be Jolthar; she''s spoken of you."


    "We must apologise for the intrusion," Myron continued.


    Jolthar studied the man; his size was impressive, but more intriguing was the contrast between his warm demeanour and thetent power that seemed to radiate from him. "No need for formalities," Jolthar replied. "Call me Jolthar. You''re wee here, havinge with my dear cousin." Thest words carried just a hint of irony.


    ra''s eyes narrowed as she tried to decode Jolthar''s unexpected hospitality.


    "We''re headed to the main n house," Myron exined. "Thought we''d rest here at the keep before the final stretch. Keeps the de sharp and the spirits high, you know?" His eyes zed with ambition as he added, "One day, they''ll call me the greatest swordsman in all the continent."N?v(el)B\\jnn


    After the brief exchange, Myron and ra withdrew into the keep, leaving Jolthar and Colinus in the yard.


    "What do you think about that man, Colinus?" Jolthar asked, his keen senses having detected the beast-like quality of Myron''s aura, carefully contained but unmistakably powerful.


    The old man stood thoughtfully beside his young master. "Young master, we cannot judge based on looks alone; that''s all I can say."


    A knowing smile curled Jolthar''s lips. "Is that so?"


    As they stood there, the morning sun casting long shadows across the yard, Jolthar''s mind worked through the implications of this unexpected visit.


    *


    In the heart of Stormholme Keep, a dimly lit chamber offered a sense of sanctuary from the chaos brewing outside.


    Myron, a towering figure whose physical prowess was both feared and revered, sank into arge stone bath filled with warm, soothing water. The liquid rippled gently around him, reflecting the flickering light of the candles that lined the room. His waist was submerged, while his broad shoulders and muscr chest were exposed, disying the intricate tapestry of scars and de marks that told tales of countless battles fought and survived.


    His long brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, entuating the strong lines of his jaw and the fierce determination in his deep-set eyes. Leaning back against the cool stone, he allowed the warmth of the water to envelope him, momentarily forgetting the weight of his ambitions.


    The tranquillity of the moment was soon disrupted by the soft rustle of fabric.


    ra entered the chamber, wrapped in a sheer cloth that clung to her form, teasing glimpses of the woman beneath. As she approached, Myron straightened slightly, his gaze appreciating the way the fabric entuated her curves. She had always held a captivating beauty, one thatbined grace with a hint of danger.


    She perched herself on the edge of the stone wall beside the bath, her long legs swinging slightly above the water''s surface. The glow of the candles highlighted her features, casting shadows that danced across her face.


    "I don''t like how you ignored hisments," she said, her voice a mixture of teasing and seriousness.

 Chapter 28 Lovers

    Myron''s expression remained unyielding, his dark brow furrowing slightly at her words. "Do you think I would entertain him?" he replied, his tone t but carrying an undercurrent of irritation.


    He added after a brief pause. "I think you are underestimating your cousin too much. He isn''t what he looks like."


    ra raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and scepticism crossing her face. "You speak of someone younger than you, someone you''ve never even met. What do you know of him?"


    Myron shifted slightly in the bath, the water sloshing around him as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "No one knows what he is¡­ he is like a dragon hidden under water."


    A soft chuckle escaped ra''s lips, her amusement evident as she leaned back on her hands.


    "Darling, you are overestimating him. He is just a simpleton. Maybe growing up in this training ground has changed how he looks, but he''d know what fear is." Her tone was dismissive, as if she were brushing aside the notion that Jolthar could be a real threat.


    Myron shook his head, his patience wearing thin. He recognised the spark of ambition and defiance in Jolthar that ra seemed unable to see. "You''ll learn," he murmured, deciding it was better to remain silent now.


    There was a tension building between them, and he felt the weight of his own thoughts settling heavily in the air.


    ra, sensing his withdrawal, stood up with a grace that seemed almost effortless. The cloth that had wrapped around her body slipped to the floor, revealing her in all her naked glory. Her soft and tender bosom was not big but a perfect fit for her slender frame. Her curves at the waist added an allure that captivated Myron''s gaze.


    Myron''s breath caught in his throat as she disyed herself before him, her skin smooth and inviting under the warm glow of the candles.


    "Darling," she purred, "it has been a while since you were in me." She stepped inside the water, standing over him.


    Before she could respond, she strangled him in the water, her bare skin glistening as she settled herself against his thighs. She caught hold of his cid member and started running her hand up and down on his thing , her touch sending shivers down his spine. Myron''s eyes widened in both shock and pleasure as she whispered, "Let''s make up for lost time."


    Within no time, he was hard, and she guided him to her entrance, slowly sinking down onto him with a moan of satisfaction.


    Myron instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer as she began to sway against him. The heat of their bodies mingled with the warmth of the water, creating an intoxicating sensation that enveloped them both.


    Her hands found their way around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she leaned in, her lips brushing tantalisingly close to his.


    The ssh of water echoed softly in the chamber, harmonising with the deep, steady thrum of their heartbeats.


    The tension of their earlier conversation melted away, reced by the primal pull of desire that had always existed between them.


    The water rippled around them as they moved together in a dance of desire, lost in the passion of their reunion.


    The sounds of their lovemaking filled the chamber, the rhythm of their bodies creating a symphony of pleasure that resonated against the stone walls.


    He moved his hands over her breasts, massaging them. "Suck them, darling, mould them." Myron, as if following her wish, took her breasts into her mouth, sucking them.


    ra threw her head back, feeling his phallus hammering her, the intense action getting to her head, feeling the rush of ecstasy.


    Myron could feel ra''s warmth against him, her body a soft and inviting presence that drove away the memories of battle and ambition. As she moved, he held her close, their connection deepening with every passionate thrust.


    The sounds of their passion echoed in the narrow halls outside the chambers. ra''s moans filled the room, mixing with Myron''s heavy breathing. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, lost in the heat of the moment.


    Outside the chamber, the maids who had been standing at the door looked down, their faces flushed with embarrassment.


    They hade to attend to the bathing arrangements, only to find themselves witnesses to a private moment that should have remained hidden.


    The sounds of pleasure echoed in the hall, making it clear that they were intruding on something far more intimate than they had anticipated.


    Back in the bath, ra''s movements became more fervent, her breath hitching as Myron responded to her urgency. He could feel her body tensing around him, the water sshing around them as she clung to him. Her head fell back, exposing the graceful curve of her neck, and he took the opportunity to lean in, his lips tracing a path along her corbone.


    "Tell me," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, "do you think he can truly stand against us?"n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Myron paused for a moment, pulling back to look into her eyes. The passion and lust that fuelled their connection were still present, but beneath ity a thread of concern. "You didn''t see what I have seen."


    ra''sughter was soft, almost mocking. "You worry too much, Myron. We have power, and we have the means to crush any opposition. Besides, he''s just a boy."

 Chapter 29 Farewell

    "Perhaps," Myron conceded, his fingers gently tracing her cheek. "But every dragon was once just an egg, and we cannot underestimate the potential of the ones who grow up in the shadows."


    With that, the conversation faded as their bodies took over, merging once more in a dance of intimacy that drowned out their concerns.


    The world outside continued to spin, unaware of the turmoil that brewed in the hearts of those within the keep. For now, all that mattered was the heat of the moment, the pleasure they shared, and the bond that strengthened with every breath they took.


    As the candles flickered and the water swirled around them, the sounds of their passion echoed in the chamber, drowning out the worries.


    ra, lost in the euphoria of their connection, surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body.


    But even as they lost themselves in each other, Myron''s thoughts lingered on the implications of ra''s dismissal of Jolthar. He couldn''t shake the feeling that there was more to the young man than met the eye.


    A dragon hidden beneath the water¡ªhe would keep that in mind, even as he indulged in the present.


    In the moments that followed, they surrendered to their desires, the echo of their lovemaking resonating through the chamber like a siren song.


    *


    The next morning, ra and Myron left the Keep after Myron greeted Jolthar and bid his farewell. To thest minute, Myron had been nothing but respectful. So, Jolthar wondered how in the world he fell for ra.


    After their departure, Jolthar was in his room, apanied by little Yanna and Katerina.


    A woman named Moira entered, her face grave. "Young master Jolthar, a message has arrived from the main house. Your presence is required immediately."


    Jolthar was puzzled to hear the news. He took the proffered letter, breaking the seal with trepidation. As he read, his expression darkened.


    "What is it?" Katerina asked, concern evident in her voice.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Jolthar looked up, his eyes conflicted. "It says that all the children muste back to the n. We are summoned. Says it''s urgent."


    He nced at the sleeping Yanna, then back at Katerina. "I think I have to leave now."


    "What are you going to do?"


    Katerina straightened, thinking for a moment. "We''lle with you," she decided.


    "The seragilo had sent word, and they said to meet at Avyaburgh."


    Jolthar''s brow furrowed in concern. "Avyaburgh? That''s quite a journey from here, especially in your condition. Are you certain it''s safe?"


    Katerina nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of determination and fear. "The people from the Blue Rose Pce will wait for us in that city; don''t worry."


    Jolthar considered this for a moment, his tactical mind weighing the risks and possibilities. "As it happens," he said finally, "Avyaburgh is on my way to Sandornen. I can escort you there before continuing on to my final destination."


    Relief washed over Katerina''s face. "Thank you," she breathed. "You''ve already done so much for us, but this... this means everything."


    ***


    The journey to Avyaburgh took several days. He bid his farewell to Colinus before leaving.


    As they approached the outskirts of Avyaburgh, a city known for its towering spires and bustling trade markets, Jolthar sensed a change in the air. There was an expectancy, as if the very city was holding its breath in anticipation of their arrival.


    At the city gates, they were met by a group of elegantly dressed women. Their flowing robes and serene demeanour marked them as Dames from the Seraglio, an organisation shrouded in mystery and whispered to possess great magical power.


    One of the Dames stepped forward, her ageless face breaking into a warm smile as she beheld Katerina and Yanna. "Wee, sisters," she said, her voice melodious and soothing. "We''ve been expecting you."


    Katerina visibly rxed at the sight of the Dames, tears of relief welling in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "We''vee so far..." She exined how Jolthar helped them and escorted them here.


    The Dame turned her attention to Jolthar, her piercing gaze seeming to look through him rather than at him. "And you, young warrior, have our deepest gratitude. You have safeguarded hope itself, though you may not yet understand the full magnitude of your actions."


    Jolthar bowed his head respectfully. "I did what anyone with honour would do," he said simply.


    As the Dames prepared to escort Katerina and Yanna into the city, Jolthar kneeled down to bid farewell to the child who had, in such a short time, found a ce in his heart.


    "Be safe, little one," he said softly. "And remember, you are stronger than you know."


    Yanna threw her arms around Jolthar''s neck, hugging him tightly. "Will I see you again?" she asked, her voice small and hopeful.


    Jolthar smiled, gently disentangling himself from her embrace. "I believe we will, Yanna."


    With a final nod to Katerina and the Dames, Jolthar turned and set out for Sandornen.


    As he walked away, he could feel Yanna''s eyes on his back, and he silently thought of seeing her again.


    The trip to Sandornen was uneventfulpared to the harrowing days that had preceded it. Jolthar used the time to reflect on all that had transpired and to prepare himself for whatever awaited him at the ancestral home of the Kaezr n. It had been several years since he left the estate. There was no one who would wish for his return.


    And he hadn''t forgotten about his revenge; initially he wanted to go back after learning everything about the outside world. It had been a few years since he had interacted with the outside world, after all.


    As he crested the final hill, the vast estate of Sandornen came into view.


    It was a breathtaking sight¡ªspreading grounds dotted with elegant buildings centred around a grand manor house that seemed to touch the sky. Banners bearing the Kaezr crest fluttered in the breeze, and the air hummed with energy that spoke of ancient power and timeless tradition.

 Chapter 30 Enraged beast

    November 8, 1824.


    Jolthar was back again, he was now eighteen years old and certainly, he had changed a lot from what he was back then.


    Jolthar approached the main gates, where two guards snapped to attention at his arrival. They didn''t recognise him, and he had to say his name and show the letter he received, which was sent to the children of the n.


    Checking the letter, the guards allowed him inside.


    As he entered the estate grounds, Jolthar couldn''t help but think of old Colinus, who had remained behind at Stormholme Keep. The old man had been a constant presence in his life for the past few years, and Jolthar made a mental note to send word of his safe arrival once he was settled.


    Inside the vast grounds of Sandorme Estate, a pity hidden within the shadows, its depths home to creatures both fierce and fearsome. This was no ordinary pit; it was a cavernous den where the estate kept its most formidable beasts, each one bound by shackles and enchantments crafted by the most skilled handlers.


    Deep within the pit, a drake¡ªa massive creature cloaked in scales of fiery orange and crimsony shackled. The air around it was thick with tension, its breaths slow yet intense, nostrils ring with the smouldering promise of unleashed power.


    It was a beast of unparalleled ferocity, a creature so wild and uncontroble that even the strongest chains alone could not contain it. Bound in ce by ancient, potent enchantments, the drakey sprawled on the ground, its massive head resting on forelimbs like pirs of raw power, eyes closed as though lulled by some restless slumber.


    But today, something shifted¡ªa crack in the space, a tremor in the air. Suddenly, its eyes snapped open, igniting with a fierce, unnatural light, as if stirred by an invisible call, a primal urge breaking free of restraint.


    The drake''s golden, slitted eyes gleamed with a violent light, reflecting years of confinement and an untamed spirit that could no longer be suppressed.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    In a sudden, explosive motion, the drake''s muscled body surged forward, its chains creaking under the strain. Therge chains that held creature captive, now strained under its mighty pull, and the sounds of metal screeching against stone filled the cavern.


    The men of the pit were alerted and quickly surrounded the beast, and the beast handlers were trying to calm the beast. The creature''s massive body moved in a way to break the chains off. Drake''s roar filled the cave and resounded off the walls, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it. The drake''s eyes zed with a fiery intensity, a stark contrast to the darkness of its prison.


    With a final, ear-splitting roar, it snapped its shackles, the metallic bindings shattering and nging against the cavern''s rocky floor.


    The beast burst from its confinement, its form towering at nearly 9.4 meters tall. It was a beast of magnificent and terrifying proportions, with a muscr frame rippling under its vibrant scales, each one like a polished gem reflecting the mes within. Its head was adorned with two sinuous tentacles, which writhed and red as it exhaled in fury, creating an aura thatmanded both reverence and fear.


    The guards stationed within the pit sprang into action. "Contain it!" one of the knights bellowed, drawing his sword.


    Others followed, unsheathing their weapons, their faces hardened with resolve to contain the beast. They formed a semicircle around the drake, their shields raised in a desperate attempt to barricade its path.


    But the beast was unstoppable.


    With a growl that vibrated the very ground beneath them, the drake thrashed wildly, its powerful limbs sweeping knights aside as if they were mere leaves caught in a storm.


    Shields splintered, armour dented, and shouts of men filled the cavern as they were thrown across the pit with devastating force.


    Within moments, the drake had escaped the pit.


    It now stood outside, its red-orange scales glinting under the sun as it surged forward, its gaze locked on the estate''s grand front gates.


    Knights and servants scrambled to avoid its path, but the drake''s massive tail and lunging strides made dodging nearly impossible. It crashed through anything and anyone in its way, a living avnche of fury and might.


    With each stride, its deep, guttural growls resonated across the estate grounds, like thunder warning of an imminent storm.


    Word spread quickly through the estate, and men watching from afar began to murmur nervously among themselves. The knights spread out and were trying to stop the drake.


    At that very moment, a figure strode into its path¡ªthe unmistakable silhouette of Jolthar, d in simple but sturdy garments, his posture steady, his gaze sharp.

 Chapter 31 Tamed

    The drake, now only yards away, spotted Jolthar, its gaze narrowing as it focused intently on this new figure blocking its path.


    It let out an ear-splitting roar, its massive jaws parting to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth, and broke into a full charge, ws tearing up the earth beneath it.


    The knights nearby shouted warnings, urging Jolthar to move to get to safety. But Jolthar did not move. His eyes remained fixed on the drake, his expression calm, unflinching.


    With each pounding step, the drake drew closer. The ground seemed to tremble beneath its weight, and just as it lunged, ready to tear apart anything in its path, Jolthar acted.


    With a swift, calcted leap, heunched himself into the air, his movements graceful yet powerful. As the drake''s enormous bulk surged forward, Joltharnded squarely on its back, his hands finding purchase along the ridged scales just behind its neck. The drake reared back in shock, bucking wildly as it tried to throw off the intruder.


    The scene was chaotic.


    The drake thrashed and spun, its entire body twisting in an attempt to dislodge Jolthar, who held on with a fierce tenacity. His muscles tensed as he gripped the drake, his legs straddling the creature''s powerful shoulders to maintain bnce.


    Jolthar''s hand, steady and sure, reached down, gently stroking the scales along its neck. His voice, low and soothing, was barely audible over the drake''s snarls. "Easy now¡­ easy¡­" he murmured, his tone calm andmanding.


    Gradually, Jolthar''s calm touch and quiet words had an effect.


    The drake''s violent movements began to slow, its snarls dwindling into deep,boured breaths.


    Jolthar continued to stroke its neck, his hand moving in slow, gentle motions, his presence exuding a sense of trust and authority. The beast, sensing Jolthar''s calm demeanour, lowered its head slightly, the fury in its eyes dimming.


    In mere moments, the scene transformed.


    The drake, which had been a tempest of rage and destruction, now stood subdued under Jolthar''s touch, its mighty chest heaving as it released a long, steady breath.


    Knights and onlookers, who had anticipated a bloody end to the encounter, stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.


    This was no ordinary feat; it was as if Jolthar held an unspoken bond with the beast, a connection forged not through force but through mutual respect and understanding.


    With onest pat on the drake''s massive shoulder, Jolthar dismounted,nding lightly on the ground beside the now-calm creature. The drake shifted its weight, watching Jolthar with an almost docile curiosity, its fiery rage reced by a sense of quiet acknowledgement.


    As Jolthar straightened, the murmurs from the knights grew louder. Many had heard tales of tamers and riders, but never had they seen such a disy firsthand. A beast as fierce as this drake called Maelruth the Bloodstorm, the most ferocious on their grounds, now stood calm as amb under Jolthar''s touch.


    Even the knights who had attempted to tame the drake in the past, knights who had years of experience and strength, had failed miserably, some even sustaining injuries in their futile attempts.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    The drake was a gift from the Naemarys n to Lorryll, and when he tried to tame it, the drake outright rejected him and didn''t let anyone near. Ever since it had been confined in the pit, deemed untamable. Almost every child of the n once tried to mount the drake, but it didn''t let them near , its fiery eyes and sharp teeth deterring even the bravest of souls.


    Maelruth the Bloodstorm, the name rung in the entire estate for days since its arrival.


    Yet here it stood, subdued, its obedience earned not by chains or threats but by Jolthar''s remarkable presence and his touch.


    As the dust settled, one of the knights turned to hispanion, disbelief still etched on his face. "Did you see that?" he whispered.


    The other knight, still watching Jolthar, nodded slowly. "How in the heavens did he do that?"


    Just moments before, the drake had been a vision of fury and menace, its entire body radiating a fierce, untamable rage. Its ws tore into the earth with a reckless ferocity, its powerful tail swiping the air like a whip, daring anyone toe near.


    The sheer size of the drake drew every eye to it; its scales gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the colours of fire and shadows that rippled across its body as it moved. Those stationed around the estate''s grounds had abandoned their posts, drawn by the beast''s resounding roars.


    The estate grounds, usually so tranquil, now buzzed with anxious energy as people pointed and whispered, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and dread.


    The drake, still standing beside Jolthar, let out a low, rumbling purr¡ªa sound no one in the estate had ever heard from it before. It was a sound of contentment, of trust.

 Chapter 32 Jealousy

    Tolian stood frozen, his gaze locked on the extraordinary scene unfolding before him.


    From across the grounds, he watched in utter disbelief as Jolthar effortlessly subdued the drake, a beast renowned for its wild ferocity and untamable nature.


    The drake, which for months had been the bane of every handler in the pit, now stood quietly before Jolthar, its enormous head dipping with something almost like reverence as the young man gently rubbed its scaly brow.


    Nearby, a group of pit men had arrived from the caverns, their expressions mirroring Tolian''s shock. They, too, had failed countless times to get the beast under control.


    Since the drake had been brought to the estate, the n had spared no effort in attempting to tame it, believing it destined as the mighty mount of their n''s eldest son, who had recently wed. It was actually the wedding gift from his inws.


    But every attempt had met with the same violent rejection. The drake was an indomitable force, one that had defied every handler and spurned all who tried to break it.


    As Tolian watched Jolthar and the drake, his mind reeled.


    Jolthar hadn''t used ropes or chains, nor had he relied on sheer strength to overpower it. Instead, there was a silent understanding between the two, a mutual respect that seemed almost magical in nature.


    Tolian saw Jolthar''s steady hand moving along the drake''s head, the beast''s eyes narrowing as it leaned into the touch, resembling more of a loyalpanion than the terrifying force it had been only minutes before. The men who had witnessed the drake''s previous rampages could scarcely believe their eyes.


    The drake''s massive head was lowered, its fiery eyes softened, and it emitted low, rhythmic sounds, almost as if it were purring under Jolthar''s touch.


    A ripple of murmurs broke out among the men of the pit, who were now gathered around. Some of them shook their heads, while others stared in silent awe.


    The drake, now utterly rxed, nudged Jolthar''s arm with its enormous head as if encouraging him to continue his gentle pats.


    A ripple ofughter escaped from Jolthar''s lips, his voice warm and filled with a rare sense of triumph. "I think you''ve been misunderstood, my friend," he murmured to the drake.


    "Unbelievable," one of the older handlers muttered. "We tried everything. And here hees, without fear, without a whip, and the beast practically melts." The disbelief was still evident in his voice.


    Every man there knew the drake''s history and the relentless struggle to tame it. They remembered Lorryll''s attempt, which had ended in disaster; the beast had tossed him aside with contempt, nearly injuring him.


    After that, it had been confined to the pit, its wildness deemed too dangerous for anyone to attempt taming again.


    Tolian''s face darkened as he thought of Lorryll''s failure.


    Lorryll was the n''s pride, the heir, the man they had all expected would take control of the drake with ease, yet he had been humiliated before their eyes.


    Themotion in front of the estate had brought everyone outside, and Lorryll was among them.


    He was standing along with Davis and Orimus. Lorryll watched the drake with a slight annoyance, but he didn''t let it show as he quickly masked it with a nk expression. Then he asked, "Who is that?" he noticed a young man standing right next to the drake, patting its head.


    Orimus was quick to reply as he recognised Jolthar. It had been quite a while since he had disappeared.


    Jolthar had changed a lot since he left the Estate. Now, he stood six feet two inches tall, his long silver snow hair hung back in a ponytail behind his head. He wasn''t too muscr nor too thin; an above average build of muscle behind his clothes and forearm muscles flexed as he stretched them to pat the drake. Two scabbards hung on his back; one was the Horgath, and the long sword was Knashii.


    "Jolthar!" Orimus eximed as he watched Jolthar petting the drake, unable to process what he was seeing.


    Davis also remembered meeting Jolthar for a brief moment in the Keep and recognised that he noticed that he changed a lot and the swords too.


    "That boy who ran away from the keep," Lorryll said as his gaze fixed on the drake. Every time he watched, he remembered the time when he tried to mount the drake and how it was rejected. In his anger, he wanted to kill, but he didn''t as it was a gift from his inws.


    "What is he doing here?" Orimus said out loud. It had been years since he left the estate, and no one really bothered to talk about him.


    Lorryll''s sharp eyes fell upon the drake and Jolthar, his face contorting in a mixture of irritation and disbelief. He walked towards the drake; the two of them followed behind Lorryll.


    Tolian noticed Lorryll''s arrival and straightened, nodding respectfully as the eldest son moved closer. But his gaze flickered to Jolthar, a silent warning to be careful.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Lorryll''s pride was well-known, and Tolian could already sense the tension brewing.


    "So," Lorryll said, his toneced with forced casualness, "you seem to have tamed the beast everyone deemed impossible." He looked at Jolthar with a raised brow, his voice carrying an edge. "Impressive... I''ll grant you that."


    Jolthar met Lorryll''s gaze, nodding respectfully, though he sensed the faint hostility beneath the words. "The drake is strong-willed, that''s certain," he replied carefully, his tone neutral. "But strength responds to understanding as much as to force. I merely found a way to speak itsnguage."


    A flicker of irritation crossed Lorryll''s face, but he masked it quickly, turning his attention to the drake. He stepped forward, reaching a tentative hand towards it, but the beast''s calm demeanour shifted. Its body tensed, and it released a low growl as it recoiled from Lorryll''s approach, returning to Jolthar''s side as if seeking his protection.

 Chapter 33 A lie to live

    Jolthar instinctively ced a calming hand on the drake''s neck, and the beast settled once more, its eyes never leaving him.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The pit men exchanged knowing looks, murmuring among themselves.


    Even the drake''s choice was clear: it had epted Jolthar and no other.


    Lorryll''s jaw clenched as he observed this, his knuckles whitening as his hand fell to his side. The air between the two men grew thick, the difference in their approaches as clear as the divide between them.


    While everybody was watching them, Lady Elowen, the matriarch of the Kaezr n, stepped into view, nked by her two other sons. Her gaze swept across the courtyard, her sharp, observant eyes scanning for any sign of disarray. She was a woman whomanded respect, not just because of her bloodline but because of the power she wielded with grace. Her very presence had the effect of stilling the air as if nature itself waited for her to speak.


    Lorryl turned swiftly to face her as she approached, his expression one of concern yet marked by a hidden wariness.


    "What''s happening here?" she asked, her voice melodic yet deep with authority. It was the voice of someone ustomed to givingmands that were followed without question.


    The tension in the grounds thickened for a moment as Orimus spoke, recounting the events that had led to this confrontation. He exined how Jolthar had returned to the keep after a prolonged absence, only to be met with a strange tension in the air.


    Jolthar had trained hard during his time away, but there were questions regarding his sudden departure and whispers that he may have been hiding something.


    As Lady Elowen''s gaze fell on Jolthar, her sharp eyes appraised him, sizing him up.


    There was something in the way she looked at him, not just as her nephew but as a member of the n, as a piece on a chessboard whose next move could have far-reaching consequences.


    Jolthar felt the weight of her stare, the weight of generations of Kaezr bloodline weighing upon him, and yet he stood unmoving, despite the stirring within him.


    Lady Elowen paused for a long, tense moment before she spoke again.


    "Meet me in my office," she instructed her voice firm yet unyielding, like themand of an empress. Without another word, she turned and swept back into the keep, her sons following closely behind her.


    The front ground began to empty, with the members of the n dispersing to their respective duties, leaving Jolthar standing there alone for a brief moment. His heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained calm, impassive.


    He knew that this meeting would define much of his future with the Kaezr n. It was his first time meeting her, and she was quite intimidating, he thought.


    He was interrupted by the approach of a distinguished-looking man in impable attire. The man bowed deeply, a warm smile on his face.


    "Wee to Sandornen, young master Jolthar," he said, his voice cultured and refined. "I am Pascal, butler to the Kaezr family."


    Pascal led him to the office of Lady Elowen, wife of Caelum, second head after the patriarch. Caelum had left for dark nes with his legion to fight against the nyphorites along with the other ns and elves. During his absence, she would wield the power in the n.


    He made his way through the grand stone halls of the estate, the scent of polished wood and burning torches filling his nostrils. The corridors were lined with portraits of the n''s ancestors¡ªmen and women whose aplishments were immortalised in painted form, their stern expressions almost daring anyone to defy their legacy.


    Jolthar walked past them with a sense of purpose, knowing that one day he would have to carve his own ce in that history.


    Lady Elowen''s office was located at the far end of the keep, beyond the council chambers and the great hall.


    As he entered the room, the door creaking behind him, Jolthar found himself standing in the heart of the n''s power. Lady Elowen was already seated at her desk; papers spread out before her. Her second son and fourth son stood beside her, waiting in silence, their presence serving as a reminder of the political web Jolthar was about to walk into.


    She motioned for him to sit.


    "Tell me, Jolthar," Lady Elowen began, her voice no longer as soft as it had been in the grounds, "why did you leave the keep? Your absence has been... noted."


    Jolthar sat down, his posture straight, his eyes meeting hers without flinching. There was no fear in him, not anymore. The years of training and surviving in a world where betrayal and deception weremonce had steeled him for moments like this.


    "I left to train," Jolthar replied, his voice steady. "To be stronger. To prove myself."


    Lady Elowen''s eyes flickered with something unreadable. She studied him carefully, her gaze intense. "And what do you seek to prove, Jolthar?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Do you seek power for the sake of power? Or is there a greater purpose behind your actions?"


    Jolthar took a deep breath. This was the moment where his true intentions could either make or break him. He needed to tread carefully. In truth, he had no grand ambition to seek power for its own sake.


    His primary goal, for now, was survival. But there was more to it than that¡ªhe wanted a stronger influence over the n. He has to honour his mother''s legacy, who was the patriarch''s half-sister, and still, she was left to die just because she eloped with her loved one, and then bore Jolthar without marrying her lover. During her final days, she begged the n to take care of Jolthar.


    The painful memories of his mother suffering in that single room left to her own devices, fuelled Jolthar''s desire to rise to power within the n. He couldn''t believe the woman who was sitting right in front of him; from what he knew, his mother and that woman had been close during their childhood.


    His mother, before she went away with her loved one, had been like a treasured child in the whole family, as she was the only girl child of the previous patriarch. But after she had done what she had, she was hated by the whole n. Such fragile feelings, these people bore against each other, Jolthar thought.


    "I want to use my sword for more than just battle," Jolthar said, his voice carefully measured. "I want to serve the Kaezr n to ensure it thrives for generations toe."


    Lady Elowen leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming lightly against the surface of her desk. Her expression was unreadable, and for a moment, the silence between them felt as if it could stretch on forever.


    "You speak of serving the n," she finally said, "but do you truly understand what that means? It''s not enough to wield a sword, Jolthar. It''s not enough to train. You must be willing to sacrifice everything for the n''s future."


    Jolthar hesitated, knowing his answer would shape his future with the n. "I will do whatever it takes," he said, his voice resolute. "I will fight when I am required."

 Chapter 34 King of Deities

    Lady Elowen studied him for a long time, her gaze searching for any hint of dishonesty. She knew the weight of her family''s history, and she would not trust anyone lightly, especially not someone born of a union that had never been publicly acknowledged.


    Jolthar had always been a question mark in the eyes of the n¡ªa member of the Kaezr by name but not by blood in the traditional sense. His mother had been the sister of thete patriarch, but her marriage had never been legitimised. The truth of his parentage was still unknown to many, a fact that had fuelled whispers throughout the n.


    But Lady Elowen was not concerned with Jolthar''s bloodline; she was concerned with his loyalty, his skill, and his potential. And in that moment, she saw something in him¡ªsomething she had seen in few others¡ªa fire that could either burn brightly or consume him whole.


    "You may stay," she said atst, her tone softer now yet still tinged with authority. "But understand this: the path you choose is fraught with danger. You must prove yourself not only with your sword but with your mind. The Kaezr n is no ce for the faint of heart."


    Jolthar nodded, feeling the first hurdle had passed.


    "You will have your first mission ready tomorrow morning; Pascal will inform you; you may leave now," she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    As he left Lady Elowen''s office, feeling her gaze on his back.


    £þ£þ£þ£þ£þ£þ * £þ£þ£þ£þ£þ£þ


    Far above the grounds of the mortalnds, the twilight over Illumarhen cast a radiant glow over the abode of the dieties, an ethereal city suspended between heaven and the minds, where light never truly dimmed.


    Gods and deities realms are separated, and gods, who are omnipotent beings, reside in the heavens, while deities reside in Illumarhen. A deity can be a god after passing through the 12 tribtions; likewise, demi gods, offspring of deities, can also be a deity after passing six tribtions. This tribtions can be anything, which they have to ovee. As the times passed, a lot of demi gods have be deity but not it wasn''t same when it came to deities.


    The sess percentage was below point one. As a result, thepetition among deities to ascend to godhood was fierce and often led to conflicts and rivalries.


    The air carried a scent of aramutam, sweet and intoxicating, and the golden halls echoed with the faint hum of divine presence.


    In the highest of these halls, beyond the marble columns that stretched to the heavens,y the residence of Inadrys, King of the deities. The very walls seemed to pulse with life, imbued with the energies of ancient powers that had ruled the cosmos since time immemorial.


    Within the grand chamber, Ivyona, the queen, restednguidly on a bed draped with silk and woven threads of pure gold. Her skin glowed like baster under the soft light, her form both statuesque and delicate, every curve a masterpiece of divine creation. Her long, raven-ck hair cascaded across the pillows, intertwining with the sheets like night threading itself through the fabric of day. Her eyes, deep as the oceans and sharp as the winds that swept across thends, gazed at the towering form of Inadrys, who stood by the table, pouring wine into a goblet crafted from celestial metal, etched with the symbols of their rule.


    Inadrys, the omnipotent ruler of deities, his form both magnificent and imposing, turned to Ivyona with a faint smile. The weight of the world, of both mortal and immortal affairs, seemed to rest lightly on his broad shoulders, though his gaze carried a wisdom and an edge that spoke of millennia of battles, victories, and betrayals. His robes, shimmering with the energy of storms, clung to his muscr form, the faint smell of ozone lingering in the air around him.


    He stepped closer to the bed, offering the goblet to Ivyona, who, with anguid movement, took it into her hand. She was dressed only in a sheer, gossamer gown, the fabric barely concealing her body. Her long legs, toned and smooth, stretched across the bed in a pose that exuded both grace and power. Her breasts, full and perfect, rose and fell gently as she breathed, her every movement an embodiment of seduction and majesty.


    Ivyona, goddess of women, marriage, and family, was both tender and ruthless, her love as fierce as her jealousy.


    She took a sip of the wine, savouring the taste before leaning back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving Inadrys.


    "You''ve been restlesstely," she remarked, her voice low, carrying a blend of curiosity and subtle usation. "I''ve noticed Naeyni has been absent these days. Do you know anything of it?"


    Inadrys waved his hand dismissively, his storm-grey eyes flicking away as he took a drink from his own goblet. "Naeyni keeps to her shadows. Her affairs are her own. There is no need for concern."


    Ivyona''s lips tightened slightly, her gaze sharpening. She had known Inadrys too long, and his dismissals often hid more than they revealed.


    Her hand slidzily across her body, trailing down her bare thigh as she stretched out, the motion deliberate, a reminder of the power she wielded even in their private moments.


    She tilted her head slightly, her hair spilling across her shoulders, as if contemting something far more profound than the simple inquiry she had made.


    "Perhaps," she said, her voice a purr. "But there have been murmurs of Nyphorites rising again. They stir on the edge of the mortal world, innds abandoned even by the Titans. If their presence goes unchecked, they may disrupt the order you''ve established."


    Inadrys turned toward her, his expression unreadable, though the faintest flicker of irritation crossed his features. "The Nyphorites are of no consequence. My children on earth will handle them. The demigods are prepared, and I will not have the peace of Illumarhen disturbed by such trivial matters."


    Ivyona smirked, a knowing smile that curled her lips as she reclined further, her body stretching out in a sensual,nguorous disy. Her gown slipped further down her shoulders, revealing more of her perfect skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, her nails grazing lightly across her corbone before resting on her bare stomach.


    She watched Inadrys from beneath her longshes, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and satisfaction.


    "As long as you are aware, my king," she replied, her voice as smooth as silk, "that is all I need to know."


    Inadrys, ever proud and unyielding, felt the subtle provocation in her words but chose not to rise to it.


    Instead, he returned his gaze to the goblet in his hand, swirling the wine within as if it held the answers to the universe.


    Ivyona''s presence was as intoxicating as ever, and despite their many shes, their union was one of the most formidable forces in existence.


    Ivyona took another slow sip of wine, her eyes never leaving Inadrys.


    She let the silence stretch between them, heavy with unspoken words, before finally rising from the bed, her body unfolding with the grace of a lioness.


    She crossed the room to stand by Inadrys, her bare feet whispering against the marble floor.


    She reached out and touched his arm lightly, her fingers cool against his skin.


    "Take care of this, Inadrys," she whispered, her voice a blend of warning and affection. "For if the Nyphorites are allowed to spread, the chaos they bring may not be so easily contained."


    Inadrys turned to her, his eyes meeting hers. "I will. Do not doubt me, Ivyona. All will be as it should."


    Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned away, her gown shimmering as it caught the light.


    With onest nce, she returned to the bed, lying down once more, her body curling into the soft embrace of the silken sheets, her robes sliding down her body, revealing her beautiful sculture-like form. She smirked at him as she raised her right leg and rested her head on her right hand, taunting him.


    Inadrys watched her and epted her challenge. Then, with a final sip of his wine, he walked to the bed, moving on top of her.

 Chapter 35 The silent prayer

    Elsewhere in the barony of Gershoria, a couple of miles from the Kaezr n''s estate.


    A little girl named Mira''s fingers trembled as she clutched her mother''s worn skirts, trying to make herself smaller behind the folds of fabric. Her fear of men in those iron suits was palpable, a result of the stories she had heard about the soldiers who enforced the baron''s rule with an iron fist. Mira''s mother whispered reassuring words, promising to protect her from any harm that maye their way.


    The autumn wind whipped through the town square, carrying with it the metallic ng of armour and the muffled sobs of her neighbours.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    She could see the knights'' boots through the gaps between people''s legs¡ªpolished ck leather that reflected the weak morning sun, moving with mechanical precision as they separated the townspeople into lines.


    "Step aside, woman," a gruff voicemanded above her. Mira felt her mother''s hands tighten protectively around her shoulders.


    Through the gap in her mother''s skirts, she could see the knight''s gauntleted hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the steel gleaming with an unnatural blue sheen that marked it as dratium-forged.


    "Please, sir," her mother''s voice cracked, "she''s only eight summers old. Too young for such work."


    "Eight is old enough for small tunnels. The baron requires all able hands. Step. Aside." Each word fell like a hammer blow.


    Mira felt her mother''s fingers dig into her shoulders onest time before slowly, reluctantly, releasing her. As the fabric barrier between her and the knight fell away, Mira found herself staring up at a faceless helmet, its visor etched with the baron''s crest¡ªa wolf devouring a dove.


    "Name?" the knight demanded, quill hovering over a ledger.


    "M-Mira," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the continuing sounds of distress around them.


    "Speak up, girl!"


    "Mira, sir!" The words burst from her lips as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her mother made a small, broken sound behind her.


    "Wagon three," the knight ordered, pointing with his quill. Then the little girl was taken to the wagon and pushed into it.


    The wooden boards were hard beneath her, splinters catching on her dress as she scrambled to peer through the gaps between the other bodies being loaded in with her.


    After that, they put her mother in another wagon, separating the children and adults.


    Young and old, neighbours she''d known all her life and strangers from the outskirts of town¡ªall pressed together in the stifling space.


    A woman who sold flowers in the market was praying quietly, her words a desperate litany.


    Two boys not much older than Mira clung to each other, their faces buried in each other''s shoulders.


    The wagon jerked into motion.


    Through the cracks in the wooden sides, Mira clutching her clothes watched her home disappear, the familiar buildings of Baron''s Cross growing smaller until they vanished around a bend in the road.


    The wheels creaked and groaned as they followed the winding path through the meadow valley, the sweet scent ofte summer grass mixing with the sour smell of fear that permeated the wagon.


    Hours passed, marked only by the changing angle of sunlight that filtered through the boards.


    When they finally stopped, Mira''s legs had long since gone numb from being pressed against the hard floor.


    The back of the wagon opened with a crash, and knights began pulling people out roughly, shoving them into lines once more.


    Before them yawned the mouth of a cave, so vast it seemed to Mira like some giant beast had taken a bite out of the mountainside. Strange blue lights flickered deep within, casting eerie shadows on the rock walls. The air that whispered out of the opening carried an odd metallic taste that made her tongue tingle.


    "Move!" A knight''smand set the lines in motion.


    As they entered the cave, the temperature dropped sharply. Mira wrapped her arms around herself, her thin dress offering little protection against the chill. The tunnel sloped downward, winding deeper into the earth until the entrance was just a distant point of natural light behind them.


    The cavern that opened before them stole what little breath remained in Mira''s lungs. Veins of blue-white crystal threaded through the walls like frozen lightning, pulsing with an inner light that made the air itself seem to hum.


    Dratium¡ªthe metal ore that knights and nobles would pay a king''s ransom to possess. It was present in these mines in its purest form.


    "Tools are against the far wall," a guard barked, his voice echoing off the crystal-studded walls.


    "Each person takes a pick and a basket. You dig until your basket is full, then empty it in the carts. Anyone who cks will be dealt with."


    Mira''s hands shook as she lifted a pick that was nearly as tall as she was. The wooden handle was smooth with use, but there were dark stains near the head that she tried not to think too hard about. She found a spot along the wall where the crystal veins ran close to the ground, small enough for her to reach.


    The work was brutal.


    Every swing of the pick sent shocks up her arms. The crystal was harder than normal rock, requiring multiple strikes to chip away even small pieces. Her palms blistered and burst within the first hour, blood making the handle slick and treacherous. Still, she worked, terrified of drawing the attention of the guards who stalked between the workers with whips coiled at their belts.


    A cry of pain cut through the steady rhythm of picks striking stone.


    Mira looked up to see a man clutching his leg where a fallen rock had struck him. Blood seeped between his fingers as he tried to stand, failed, and copsed back against the wall.


    "Please," he gasped, "I just need a moment to bind it-"


    The guard captain''s sword cleared its sheath with a sound like tearing silk. "We have no use for broken tools," he said coldly. The de shed once in the crystal-light. The man''s plea turned to a gurgle, then silence.


    "Let this be a lesson," the captain announced to the horrified workers. "You are here to serve the baron''s will. Those who cannot serve have no ce here. Back to work!"


    Mira''s pick struck the wall with renewed desperation, her tears falling silently to mix with the rock dust at her feet.


    Near her, an old man''s voice rose in barely audible prayer: "Great Mother, hear your children''s cries. Free us from this darkness. Show mercy to those who suffer in your sight."


    The guards either didn''t hear or didn''t care about his whispered invocation.


    The old man continued to work as he prayed, his weathered hands steady on his pick despite the tremor in his voice. "Free us from these clutches of darkness, Great Mother."


    Hours bled together in the timeless darkness of mine.


    Mira''s world narrowed to the rhythmic swing of her pick, the growing weight of her basket, the burning in her muscles, and the constant, gnawing fear. She thought of her mother alone in their small house and wondered if she would ever see her again. The crystal veins pulsed mockingly, their blue light a poor substitute for the sun she already missed with an ache that rivalled her physical pain.


    Yet even as despair threatened to overwhelm her, Mira heard the old man''s prayers continuing, a quiet defiance in the face of their captivity. Perhaps the Great Mother was listening, counting each tear shed in that terrible ce.


    She raised her pick again, adding her own silent prayer to the old man''s whispered words. The crystal broke free with a sound like breaking ss, its glow momentarily intensifying before fading to match its fellows.


    Another piece of their captors'' wealth, bought with blood and suffering. Mira dropped it in her basket and struck again, and again, and again, as the darkness pressed closer and the guards'' boots echoed off the cavern walls like approaching thunder.

 Chapter 36 Divine born

    Mira couldn''t stop the tears that flowed down her dirt-streaked face; her mother''s anguished expression burnt into her mind.


    Even as her pick struck the glowing crystal, her eyes kept darting back to where her mother worked further down the tunnel, her once-proud shoulders now bent under the weight of their shared suffering. Every time her mother winced from thebour, Mira felt the pain as if it were her own.


    The rhythmic nging of picks against stone suddenly faltered, reced by a wave of fearful murmurs that rippled through the mine.


    Heavy footsteps echoed from the main tunnel, apanied by the distinctive sound of dratium armour¡ªnot the standard-issue steel of the guard captain, but something far more borate.


    "Make way for Baron Rothgard!" A voice boomed through the cavern.


    Workers pressed themselves against the rough walls, heads bowed, tools clutched tight to their chests. Mira shrunk back into a shadow-filled alcove but couldn''t resist peering out at the approaching party.


    Baron Rothgard strode through the tunnel like he owned not just the mine but the very air they breathed. His armour was a masterwork of dratium craftsmanship, each te etched with intricate patterns that caught and amplified the crystal''s ethereal glow. The wolf''s crest on his breastte seemed to move in the shifting light, making the wolf''s jaws appear to snap at the helpless bird.


    Behind him walked a portly man in rich merchant''s robes, his fingers adorned with rings that glinted in the crystal light. The trader''s eyes darted around the cavern, taking in the workers with the same calcting gaze he used to assess the veins of dratium in the walls.


    "As you can see," the baron''s voice carried the cultured ent of the capital, "our operation here is most efficient. We extract more dratium in a month than most mines manage in a year."


    The trader nodded appreciatively, though his brow furrowed as he spoke. "Impressive yields, my lord, but I must address the concerns of my consortium. We''ve heard troubling reports of bandit activity in your county. Several cargo wagons have vanished without a trace, their escorts found dead or not at all."


    Mira saw her mother tense at these words, her knuckles white around her pick handle. The baron merely waved a gauntleted hand dismissively.


    "Minor incidents, I assure you. Nothing that will impact our arrangement." The baron''s tone grew sharper, more confident. "In fact, I''ve already taken steps to eliminate this nuisance. I''ve contracted the Kaezr n to patrol our trade routes."


    The effect of that name was immediate.


    The trader''s face lit up with relief, while several workers exchanged knowing nces.


    Even Mira, young as she was, had heard whispers of the Kaezr n¡ªwarrior knights renowned throughout the realm for their martial prowess and unwaveringmitment to their contracts.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    They were said to be descendants of ancient dragon riders, their armour forged in dragon fire, though such tales seemed like distant fantasies in the grim reality of the mine.


    "The Kaezr?" The trader''s voice held newfound respect. "Well, that changes everything. Their reputation precedes them. When do they arrive?"


    "Their advance riders should reach our county within days," the baron replied, satisfaction evident in his voice. "I trust this alleviates your concerns about transport security?"


    "Indeed, my Lord. Indeed." The trader pulled out a ledger, already beginning to make notes. "Now, about those quantity requirements we discussed..."


    Their voices faded as they moved deeper into the mine, leaving behind a wake of whispers among the workers.


    ***


    The torches in the hallways of the Kaezr estate cast long shadows as Jolthar followed Butler Pascal through the winding corridors. The stone walls, adorned with ancient tapestries depicting the n''s legendary battles, seemed to watch their passage with age-old eyes.


    The sound of their footsteps echoed off the polished marble floors, creating a rhythmic apaniment to their journey.


    His thoughts still lingered on his earlier meeting with Lady Elowen, the n leader''s presence having left an indelible impression on his mind. Her piercing gaze had seemed to look straight through him as if measuring his worth against some invisible standard.


    Jolthar thought, even though he met her for the first time, he could tell by the amount of her aura surrounding her, that she was a truly strong woman and quite frightening.


    Now, as they rounded another corner, a different sight caught his attention.


    In the courtyard below, visible through a grand arched window, stood Myron and ra.


    The couple walked arm in arm through the estate''s carefully tended gardens, their heads bent close in intimate conversation. Moonlight silvered ra''s dark hair while catching the unusual golden gleam in Myron''s eyes¡ªa gleam Jolthar had never quite understood until now.


    "Pascal," Jolthar began, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "how did Myron gain eptance into the n so quickly? Even for ra''s chosen, the n''s wouldn''t ept an outsider that easily."


    The butler''s lined face creased in a knowing smile. "Ah, that''s quite the tale, young master. You see, Myron is what we call a divine born¡ªa direct descendant of the thunder deity himself."

 Chapter 37 Kiss of a Goddess

    Jolthar nearly stopped in his tracks. "A child of Inadrys? Here?" His eyes widened as he looked back toward the courtyard, seeing Myron in a new light. "I''ve never met anyone with divine bloodline before."


    "Few have," Pascal nodded sagely. "Though you might be seeing more in the days toe. The world is changing, young master. The recent visit from the Elven emissary proved as much. They brought troubling news of the Nyphorites rising again in the easternnds."


    "The Nyphorites?" Jolthar''s brow furrowed. "I thought they were just legends¡ªcreatures of darkness and chaos."


    "Would that they were?" Pascal''s voice grew grave. "But no, they''re all too real. It''s why the Patriarch himself has ridden to war. These are dangerous times we live in, young master. Dangerous times indeed."


    And that''s when Jolthar remembered fighting against the Nynthralls, their appearance, and this war¡ªwas it rted?¡ªA thought crossed his mind.


    They arrived at Jolthar''s assigned chambers, and Pascal pushed open the heavy wooden door. The room was spacious yet modest by the estate''s standards¡ªafortable bed with crisp linens, a writing desk beneath a window overlooking the mountains, and a small sitting area near a crackling firece.


    "I''lle for you in the morning," Pascal said, bowing slightly. "Rest well, young master. You''ll need your strength in the days ahead." With that cryptic remark, he closed the door, leaving Jolthar alone with his thoughts.


    When he was about to leave, Jolthar stopped him. "Ah, could you bring cow''s milk with sugar in it for tomorrow morning''s breakfast, please?"


    Pascal furrowed his brows, but he nodded. "I shall do so, young master, well then." With that he bowed and left the room.


    The young warrior took advantage of the adjoining washroom, grateful to shed the dust of travel from his skin. The hot water seemed to wash away more than just dirt; it carried with it the weight of the day''s revtions.


    A demigod in the n, Nyphorites rising, the Patriarch at war... the world seemed to be tilting on its axis.


    Clean and weary, Jolthar sank into the bed, his muscles rxing into the soft mattress. But just as sleep began to im him, an otherworldly sensation prickled at his consciousness.


    His warrior''s instincts surged to life, and he leaped from the bed, every nerve suddenly alert.


    The air in the room grew thick with swirling mist, taking on an opalescent quality that defied naturalw. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend and ripple, and through this dimensional distortion stepped a figure that Jolthar knew all too well from his dreams and memories.


    "Goddess Qalena!" The name left his lips in a reverent whisper. It had been more than a couple of years since hest saw her live, other than the visions in his dreams.


    She was beauty incarnate, power made flesh. Her form seemed to shift between states of reality¡ªsometimes solid, sometimes translucent as moonlight on water. Her hair floated as if suspended in an invisible current, each strand shimmering with colours that had no names in mortal tongues. Her mature figure radiated an allure that transcended mere physical attraction, speaking to something deeper and more primal in the soul.


    "You have grown up, child," her voice resonated through both air and spirit, each word carrying harmonics that spoke of ancient power.


    Jolthar stood transfixed.


    Thest time he met her, her mere presence had brought him to his knees, the weight of her divine power crushing his mortal frame.


    Now, though he could remain standing, every muscle in his body trembled with the effort. The air grew heavy, charged with power that made breathing feel like drawing in liquid lightning.


    She approached him with fluid grace, each step leaving momentary impressions of starlight on the floor. Her hand, when it touched his cheek, felt both burning hot and freezing cold, yet somehow pleasantly warm. At her touch, the overwhelming pressure of her presence eased, allowing him to breathe normally again.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Her smile held mysteries of the universe. "Child, I am here to tell you something. The war of gods ising, and you must prepare for it. There are others, but you must be strong and rise up."


    Her words sounded too cryptic for him to understand.


    Before he could process these words, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his,pletely shocking him and widening his eyes.


    The kiss was both terrible and wonderful, an experience beyond mortalprehension.


    His eyelids slowly dropped down, and his shoulders sunk down¡ªthat''s when he felt something flowing inside him.


    Power flooded through him¡ªraw, primal, divine power that rewrote the very essence of his being. His blood sang with it, his bones hummed, and his soul expanded to contain energies that threatened to tear him apart.


    For what felt like both an eternity and a mere moment, he existed in a state of transformation.


    When she finally pulled away, he felt forever changed, as if he had died and been reborn in the span of that kiss.


    "I am giving you power," she said. "Utilise it and be the strongest." Jolthar couldn''t register her words as he was busy watching wet lips.


    The mist still swirled around Jolthar''s feet as Qalena''s form solidified once more, her eyes now holding a gravity that made his newfound power pulse anxiously within him.


    "There is more you must know," she said, her voice carrying the weight of ancient secrets. "You are not alone in your journey from another world, my child."


    "What!"


    Jolthar''s heart skipped a beat. He had always assumed his transportation to this realm was unique. Until now, he didn''t have the assumption that there were various others like him. He was busy with his own life here.


    "Others?" he managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper in the mystical atmosphere.


    "Yes," Qalena''s ethereal form shifted, creating patterns in the air that reminded Jolthar of constetions. "Like streams flowing into a great river, multiple souls have been drawn from other worlds to this realm. Each chosen, each blessed by different gods."


    She raised her hand, and in the mist appeared shadowy figures¡ªsilhouettes of people, each crowned with different divine symbols. "Some were brought here by gods who seek to protect this realm," her expression darkened, "others by deities with far more sinister purposes."


    "How will I know which is which?" Jolthar asked, his warrior''s mind already analysing this new threat.


    "That is the cruel jest of it all," Qalena said, her mature features showing a moment of sympathy.


    "Those blessed by dark gods may not even know they serve darkness. Some believe they fight for justice, for right, when they are merely pawns in a game of divine conquest."


    "We are just puppets in your show."


    She shook her head, denying him that all gods aren''t maniptive beings.


    Jolthar scoffed.


    She moved closer, her presence making the air thick with power once again. "You must be cautious, child."


    "Are there signs I should look for?" Jolthar''s mind raced through all his past encounters, wondering if he''d already met any of these other chosen ones.


    "Trust your instincts." Qalena''s hand touched his chest, right above his heart. "You will see light around them when youe across them; my power will be able to help you identify them."


    She waved her hand through the mist, and Jolthar saw brief shes of faces¡ªsome peaceful, others twisted with malice, all bearing the same otherworldly aura he now realised he possessed.


    "Some have been here longer than you, building power, gathering allies. Others are newly arrived, as lost as you once were." Her voice grew urgent. "Some will seek to unite the chosen ones, to pool their power. Others work to eliminate any they see aspetition for divine favour."


    Jolthar''s mind reeled with the implications. "How many-"


    "Enough to change the fate of this world, should they work together," Qalena interrupted. "Or enough to tear it apart should they turn against each other."

 Chapter 38 My first adventure

    She ced both hands on his shoulders, her touch sending ripples of power through his newly enhanced being. "That is why you must be stronger than them all. I can tell that you already have nurtured my power, Voidwrath, going as far as to make a de with it."


    "Now, I have given you my divine power, so you can grow faster."


    The goddess began to fade again, her form bing one with the surrounding mist.


    "Remember, child¡ªtrust in your power, but never let your guard down. Even the most innocent-seeming fellow traveller from another world could be your deadliest enemy."


    Her final words echoed in the chamber as her presence dissipated: "Watch. Learn. Grow strong. The fate of this realm may well rest on which of the chosen ones proves mightiest in theing storm."


    As the mist cleared and the room returned to normal, Jolthar stood in the darkness, his mind churning with this new knowledge. Every stranger he would meet could be another piece in this divine game. Every friendly face could hide powers blessed by gods both benevolent and malevolent.


    He looked down at his hands, watching the divine energy pulse beneath his skin like captured starlight. Somewhere out there, others like him were doing the same, each blessed by different gods, each with their own purpose in this world.


    The night suddenly felt very dark and very dangerous.


    ***


    Jolthar''s pov:


    Waking up, I was still feeling the lingering effects of that, uh, intense meeting.


    Last night, after the goddess had left, I found myself still tingling all over from¡­ well, everything.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Her lips¡­ those lips. My own fingertips brushed over my mouth again like I could somehow capture that feeling once more, still lingering like the sweetest honey imaginable.


    Gods, that body of hers... I''d need several lifetimes just to properly appreciate every curve.


    And let''s not forget about the gift she left¡ªa spatial ring on my finger, gleaming with a kind of magic that was beyond me. I turned it this way and that, wondering what on earth I''d even store in it. Snacks, probably. Or maybe I''d just look cool unting it. Ah, I know, the first things that would go in were to be my swords.


    I looked at the two swords lying beside my bed. One was the proud creation Knashii, and the other was the treasure I found, Horgath.


    Then came the real kicker¡ªI actually fell asleep dreaming of her.


    Oh yeah, that kind of dream.


    There I was, stark naked, and she was there, draped over me in all her goddess glory¡­ ahem.


    Until, of course, things took a turn. ra¡ªof all people¡ªdecided to pop in uninvited. I practically jumped out of my own head, jolting awake with my heart racing.


    A knock at the door announced Pascal''s arrival with breakfast, including the jug of milk I''d requested. The old butler had raised an eyebrow at my specific request for cow''s milk yesterday and probably wondered if I was some sort of dairy-obsessed madman. The real reason I like drinking milk, nah, I wouldn''t say.


    A warrior has to maintain some mysteries, after all.


    Now, I''ll admit, I''d been on a real milk kicktely¡ªnothing like chugging down some fresh cow''s milk to start the day, you know? But somewhere in my hazy, still half-asleep mind, I started thinking¡­ women''s milk.


    I wondered if it would be, I don''t know, richer? Creamier? Eh, maybe I''d find out one day¡­ or not.


    Moving on.


    Pascal dropped the bomb that I''d been summoned to the front grounds at eleven¡ªsomething about a mission. Yes, dear aunt said something about a mission.


    "The mission briefing is at eleven, young master," Pascal informed me, his voice proper as always despite the fact that I probably looked like I''d been wrestling thunder spirits in my sleep. "Front grounds."


    "Right. A mission," I muttered as I poured another mug of milk, chugging it like it was the elixir of life. Nothing beats a ss of pure, sweet milk in the early morning.


    After he left, I went through my morning routine, trying not to think about my divine visitation or that particrly vivid dream. A cold bath helped with both issues, though I might have muttered a few choice curses about the water temperature that would''ve made even a hardened mercenary blush.


    I threw on my gear and made my way out, stomach full and spirits high, although a little curious about what exactly I''d be getting into today. For safety purposes, I put only Horgath inside the ring and carried my long sword. I couldn''t forget the warning the goddess was giving¡ªnot to recklessly use the ring.


    When I reached the front grounds, I immediately spotted the reason Pascal had been vague.


    There she was: a woman in armour, standing with the kind of stance that screamed, "I don''t take nonsense."


    Like some warrior goddesse to earth (and hadn''t I had enough of goddessestely?) was the most magnificent woman I''d ever seen.


    Six feet of a perfectly sculpted warrior, wrapped in armour that hugged her frame like a lover''s embrace. Her hair was an impossible mix of silver and ck that caught the morning light like polished steel.


    Behind her stood what I assumed were her men, all decked out in matching matte ck armour that practically screamed, "We''re very serious and dangerous people."


    Real ssy stuff.


    I must have been staring like a love-struck farm boy because one of the men in ck stepped forward with an expression that suggested he''d caught me drooling over his prized war horse.


    "You''re Jolthar?" he asked, though it wasn''t really a question.


    "Mount up. We''re moving out," he said in this no-nonsense tone. Oh, I thought, we''re in a rush, are we? Fine.


    We mounted our horses, and as we rode through the estate gates, Mr. Serious finally introduced himself, though I was still sneaking nces at the silver-haired beauty leading our column.


    "So," he began, "we''re a 20 unit led by Lady Maena Kaezr." He gave a quick nod in her direction, which nearly had me craning my neck to catch another glimpse of her as if I could be any less subtle.


    Turned out she was actually from the main family, which exined the aura of "I could kill you with my pinky finger, but I''m too dignified to bother" she had going on. Though I couldn''t find her in the memories, it was my first time seeing her.


    "Two objectives," Mr. Serious (I really should have paid attention to his actual name) exined as our horses picked their way down the mountain path.


    "First, we clean out the bandit problem in Baron Rothgard''s county. Second, we retrieve the baron''s son." He said this like we were discussing a grocery list rather than what promised to be a rather exciting series of probably violent encounters.


    Right. The Baron. My enthusiasm took a nosedive when I heard that. I wasn''t exactly the biggest fan of noble types, but duty calls, I guess.


    I nodded along, trying to look appropriately serious while still watching how Lady Maena''s hair danced in the wind. Between my recent divine encounter and now riding alongside this martial goddess, I was beginning to think the universe was testing my ability to maintain professionalposure around breathtaking women. At least this one probably wouldn''t kiss me and fill me with divine power¡ªthough given my lucktely, I wasn''t ruling anything out.


    The spatial ring on my finger caught the sunlight, reminding me that yes,st night had actually happened, and yes, I was now apparently some sort of chosen warrior in aing war of the gods.


    But first, apparently, we had to go y hero in baron country.


    At least thepany was good, even if Mr. Serious seemed determined to drain all the fun out of what promised to be an interesting adventure.


    I couldn''t help but grin. From divine kisses to dashing rescues, all in the span of a day.


    "So, what exactly is this mission about?" I asked, trying to sound more professional than I felt.


    He exined it in two parts: first, we were supposed to deal with a bandit problem that had apparently gotten out of hand. "Typical," I thought. I mean, why bother paying your guards properly when you can just hire us to do your dirty work? And then came the second part: bringing the Baron''s son back.


    I nearly choked on the words. "The Baron''s son? What did the kid do? Run off to y bandit?"


    "Details are not your concern, Jolthar," he replied, sounding exactly like every no-fun mentor I''d ever had in my life.


    "Oh, right. Wouldn''t want to muddy things with too much information now, would we?" I muttered under my breath, earning me a sharp nce.

 Chapter 39 Lady Temptress

    Well, if I thought the day couldn''t get any more interesting, the universe just had to prove me wrong.


    As we rode down the mountain pass toward Baron Rothgard''s domain, I''ll admit I was a bit distracted¡ªand not just by the vision of feminine perfection leading our little band of warriors.


    No, my mind kept drifting back to a certain divine encounter the night prior.


    I just couldn''t get over the fact that I''d been blessed¡ªor perhaps cursed¡ªwith the attentions of the Goddess Qalena herself.


    One minute I''m humble (okay, maybe not so humble); the next I''ve got a celestial sugar mama showering me with power and smooches. Not exactly how I imagined my day going, but hey, I''ve always been a "go with the flow" kind of guy.


    Though I have to admit, the flow seemed to be getting a bit... turbulent as ofte.


    First the Nyphorites, those ancient bogeymen supposedlye to life, and now this business with the baron''s missing son. Throw in the marching orders from a literal goddess to "prepare for war," and you''ve got a recipe for one very confused (and admittedly slightly overwhelmed) young warrior.


    Still, at least the view was nice.


    I may have been a bit distracted, but I still managed to sneak plenty of nces at Lady Maena as she rode at the head of our column. She moved with such effortless grace, her armour entuating every curve in a way that made my mouth go dry.


    I half-expected Mr. Serious (who really needed to learn to lighten up, by the way) to catch me drooling and give me a stern lecture on "proper knight conduct" or something.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Speaking of Mr. Serious, he was busy briefing me on the mission details as we made our way through the winding mountain passes.


    The bandit problem of the baron. Sounded simple enough¡ªwe''d roll in, crack some skulls, and be home in time for supper. Though, if the baron''s son was also part of the mission, I had a feeling things were about to get a lot moreplicated.


    "So, this baron guy," I interrupted, "he just lost his son, huh? No ransom demands or anything?"


    Mr. Serious (I really needed to learn his actual name) fixed me with a stern look. "That''s what makes it suspicious. The baron ims his son simply... vanished. No ransom, no demands, no signs of a struggle. Just gone without a trace."


    I whistled low. "Sounds like someone''s got a guilty conscience. You think the old man had a hand in it?"


    "That''s what we''re here to find out," the vice head knight replied grimly. "The Lady Maena wants answers. And you can be sure she''ll get them¡ªone way or another."


    I nced up toward the front of our little procession, catching a glimpse of the Lady''s silver-streaked hair flowing in the wind. Something told me she was the type who didn''t take kindly to missing heirs or unsolved mysteries.


    If the baron was hiding something, he was in for a rude awakening.


    As the mountain path widened into rolling hills and patchwork farnds, the first sight of Baron Rothgard''s domain came into view.


    Nestled in a broad valley, the town walls and rooftops were tinged with the golden light of dusk, giving the whole scene an almost picturesque quality. It would''ve been a lovely sight, if not for the ominous tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog.


    We were greeted at the gates by a contingent of the baron''s own soldiers, their uniforms crisp and their weapons polished to a shine.


    I couldn''t help but notice the wary looks they cast our way¡ªthese men were used to being the biggest fish in a very small pond.


    Now, a group of Maena finest hade calling, and I could practically feel their unease.


    Leading the weing party was a man who could only be Baron Rothgard himself.


    He was an imposing figure, broad-shouldered and stern-faced, but there was a nervous energy about him that belied his confident demeanour.


    At his side stood a woman whose beauty was almost unnatural¡ªraven hair, porcin skin, and curves in all the right ces. I recognised her as the Lady Baroness, though the way her gaze lingered on me made me shift ufortably in my saddle.


    Behind them, I saw a teen girl, with a nk expression on her face, standing at ease. Like she was present there to fulfil a duty rather than out of genuine interest. I wanted to observe her, as there was something about her¡ªa mysterious power around her¡ªbut someone caught my eye¡ªthe man standing beside Baron. Mid thirties, stern looking, a punchable face, he was oogling at Baroness, right in front of everyone.


    "Wee, wee!" the baron boomed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "We are honoured by your presence, Lady Maena." He bowed deeply, his eyes flicking toward her with obvious reverence.


    "Baron Rothgard." Lady Maena tone was cool and measured, betraying none of the baron''s transparent eagerness.


    "We''vee to assist you with the... bandit problem, as requested."


    "Ah, yes, of course." The baron straightened, though his smile seemed a bit too wide, a bit too eager. "Please allow my men to see to your horses and gear. You must be weary from your journey. I''ve had the finest suite in the manor prepared for yourfort."


    As the baron''s men scurried to attend to our mounts, I couldn''t help but notice the subtle shift in the Lady Baroness''s demeanour.


    Gone was the meek, demure beauty; in its ce was a predatory grace that sent a shiver down my spine. Her gaze swept over our little band, appraising each of us with a hunger that made my skin crawl.


    "And who might this strapping young knight be?" She purred, her eyes locking onto mine. "I don''t believe I''ve had the pleasure of making his acquaintance."


    "Jolthar," I replied simply, resisting the urge to squirm under her intense scrutiny. There was something about this woman that set my instincts on edge¡ªa coiled tension, like a snake waiting to strike.


    "Jolthar," she repeated, rolling the name off her tongue in a way that made my heart skip a beat. "How... intriguing."


    Before I could respond, Lady Maena cut in, her voice brooking no argument. "The young warrior is here to assist in our duties, mydy. I''m sure he''s eager to begin."


    The baroness pouted but yielded to the implied authority in the Lady Maena tone.


    As we were led toward the manor, I couldn''t help but steal onest nce at the baroness, only to find her eyes still locked on me, a predatory smile curving her crimson lips.


    Gods above, what had I gotten myself into?

 Chapter 40 Baron and his family

    As we settled into our quarters within the baron''svish manor, I couldn''t help but feel a growing sense of unease. There was an underlying tension here, a current of secrets and hidden agendas that set my nerves on edge. The baron himself seemed ill at ease, his forced bonhomie doing little to mask the anxiety that flickered in his eyes.


    And then there was the baroness¡ªCleora, as I''d learned her name to be.


    That woman was a walking temptation, a living embodiment of every dark fantasy a man could have. The way she looked at me like I was a juicy piece of meat she couldn''t wait to sink her ws into... made my skin crawl.


    I found myself gravitating toward Mr. Serious (damn it, I really needed to learn his name) and the other knights, seeking the familiarfort of camaraderie and purpose.


    As we gathered to discuss the mission, I couldn''t help but voice my concerns.


    "Alright, so let me get this straight," I began, leaning back in my chair. "The baron''s son goes missing; no ransom, no demands, nothing. And now we''re just supposed to waltz in and solve the mystery?"


    Mr. Serious¡ªwhose name, I finally learned, was Eran ¨C fixed me with a stern look. "That''s precisely why the Lady Maena deemed this worthy of our attention. There''s more to this than meets the eye."


    I nodded slowly, drumming my fingers on the table. "And what about this bandit problem? You really think it''s just a coincidence that the son vanishes right around the time the baron''s shipments start getting hit?"


    Eran''s brow furrowed. "A fair point. The baron did seem... overly eager to have us handle that task as well."


    "Exactly." I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "I don''t know about you, but I''m getting the distinct impression that our dear baron is hiding something. And I''m not talking about just a missing heir."


    Eran''s gaze hardened. "Then we''d best get to the bottom of it. The Lady Maena will expect a full report. And you can be sure she won''t tolerate any... obfuscation."


    I couldn''t help but grin. "Wouldn''t dream of it." ncing around the room, I leaned in conspiratorially. "So, what''s the deal with the baroness, anyway? She seemed... particrly interested in me."


    Eran''s lips thinned into a tight line. "Lady Cleora is not to be trifled with. She''s a skilled maniptor, using her beauty and charm to ensnare the weak-willed." He pinned me with a stern look. "Stay away from her, Jolthar. She''s a predator, and you''re nothing more than prey in her eyes."


    "How do you know that?" I was starting to get curious about her.


    "Well, there are a lot of stories about her, and I don''t want to talk about her here in her own manor. So, just look the other way when you meet her." I could tell he was afraid to talk about her and was clearly warning me.


    I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don''t worry. I''m not exactly eager to be thetest notch on her bedpost." Though the thought of tangling with that particr temptress did send a thrill of excitement through me. Dangerous as she might be, there was an undeniable allure to the baroness that I couldn''t quite shake.


    Eran let out a long, suffering sigh. "See that you remember that. Thest thing we need is for you to get distracted and jeopardise the mission."


    I grinned unrepentantly. "I wouldn''t even consider it."


    Though deep down, I had a feeling this was going to be anything but a straightforward mission.


    The baroness''s sultry gaze burning into the back of my neck, I had a sinking suspicion that the proverbial manure was about to hit the windmill in a big way.


    As the night wore on and the baron regaled us with tales of the bandit scourge guing hisnds, I found my attention wandering.


    Baron only talked about his mines and his cargo and how the bandits were particrly targeting his ores. Only the baroness was concerned with the missing son, unlike her, the baron didn''t even mention his son at least once.


    Sure, the details were important, but my mind kept drifting back to the strange circumstances surrounding the missing heir.


    What could have happened to the baron''s son? And more importantly, what was the baron himself hiding?


    I caught the asional nce from the baroness, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that set my pulse racing. There was definitely more to this woman than met the eye. I couldn''t help but wonder what secrets she might be keeping¡ªand whether or not I really wanted to find out.


    When the meeting finally adjourned and we were left to our own devices, I made a beeline for the nearest window, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere of the manor.


    As I gazed out over the sleeping town, my thoughts turned to the young girl I''d glimpsed earlier¡ªthe baron''s daughter, if I remembered correctly. There was something about her that had piqued my curiosity, a quiet strength behind her shy demeanour that reminded me of...


    No, I shook my head, dismissing the thought.


    It was just my imagination running wild.


    Still, I couldn''t shake the feeling that there was more to this whole situation than met the eye.


    With a heavy sigh, I turned away from the window, only to nearly collide with a familiar figure.


    "My Lady," I blurted, straightening my posture. "I, uh, didn''t hear you approach."


    The silver-ck-haired warrior woman fixed me with a level stare, her arms crossed over her chest. "Jolthar. I trust you''re... adjusting to our current circumstances."


    I offered a sheepish grin. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Though I have to admit, I''m starting to get the feeling this is going to be more than your run-of-the-mill bandit-busting mission."


    One corner of her mouth twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile. "We don''t need to concern ourselves with Baron; just taking care of the bandits and bringing back his son will be enough."


    I couldn''t help but ask. "So, what do you make of all this?"


    "It doesn''t matter, but I saw you look at the baron''s wife."N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Lady Maena''s expression darkened. "The baroness is a dangerous woman, Jolthar. One who wields her beauty and charm as weapons. You would do well to heed Eran''s warning and avoid her attention."


    I raised my hands in a cating gesture. "Trust me, thest thing I want is to end up as another notch on her bedpost. Though I have to admit, the woman is... intriguing, to say the least."


    The Lady''s eyes narrowed slightly. "Intriguing, perhaps. But also deadly. Do not underestimate her, Jolthar. She is a spider, and you are but a fly caught in her web."


    I nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling ufortably in my gut. "Duly noted. So, what''s the n then? I assume we''re not just going to sit around and let the baron regale us with tales of his woes."


    "Indeed not." Lady Maena''s expression hardened. "Tomorrow, we begin our investigation. The baron''s son is our priority, but we cannot ignore the bandit attacks either."


    "Sounds like a n." I grinned, feeling a familiar thrill of anticipation. "Just point me toward the action, mydy. I''m ready to get to work."


    Lady Maena''s lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. "I heard that you have trained continuously for several years in the Stormholde."


    "Yes, mydy."


    "When I heard about you joining my unit, I inquired," she looked me in the eye. Her expression was turning serious. I seriously hoped that the report contained all good things about me.


    "They say that you are quite a sword fanatic, and that made me intrigued. Colinus talked a lot about you, saying that you are a skilled swordsman. I hope you are as skilled as they say you are." Lady Maena''s tone was both curious and cautious as if she were testing me.


    I nodded, trying to maintain myposure. "I will do my best, mydy," I replied confidently.


    "I don''t care about your reasons for leaving the estate oring back now. As long as you are in my unit, you are to heed mymand." Lady Maena''s piercing gaze seemed to bore into my soul as she continued, "Remember, loyalty to the nes before all else."


    With a nod, she turned and strode away, leaving me to ponder the looming challenges thaty ahead.


    They sure worked fast to know about me; in just a couple of hours, they learned everything about me. What''s with these scary women around me?


    Shaking my head, I turned to gaze out the window once more. I couldn''t shake the feeling that the baron was hiding something¡ªand that whatever it was, it was about toe back and bite us all in the ass.


    Well, at least it wouldn''t be boring.


    ***


    While all the knights rested inside their assigned quarters, up on the manor floors, inside a room at the end of the corridor, there was a maid standing just outside the door. Her eyes darted to the other end of the corridor as if she were guarding something.


    Inside the room were two people. A woman was sitting in a chair while the man sat on the floor, with a sparkle in his eyes.


    She raised her leg and pulled her gown up to her knees, revealing her red stocking-adorned leg, the stocking masking her faint porcin skin.


    As if a dog getting a bone, that man drooled over her leg. She sat with an annoyed expression, giving him her foot.


    As soon as sheid her leg in his hands, he started licking her foot.


    "Aren''t you afraid of the n''s knights? They will kill all your men," she said, her voice devoid of emotions.


    That man stopped licking and looked at her, "Don''t worry, I have it all sorted out. Soon, I will have my hands on the vault."


    "What about the Kaezr knights?"


    "They will just leave after killing some pests. Mydy, just wait a little longer. I will treat you like a queen," his eager voice answered her.


    His face twisted with anger as he spat, "After I kill my brother, everything will be mine."


    He asked, "Mydy, if you allow me, can I?"


    She waved her hand, and that man, the baron''s brother, sucked her foot while holding with one hand, and while the hand moved inside his pants, he started to move his hand over his member. While sucking her foot''s fingers, he jacked off in a twisted disy of depravity. She kept a straight face throughout, maintaining herposure despite the disturbing scene. And soon he groaned in ecstasy, releasing himself onto the ground. Then she got up and left the room; outside the door, the maid bowed, "Mydy," and then she followed her baroness to her quarters. That man inside the room, "Soon I will have you begging me to fuck you senseless," he muttered to himself, a sinister grin on his face.

 Chapter 41 Bandits?

    The next morning dawned bright and clear, painting the rolling hills of Baron Rothgard''s domain in a fresh coat of golden light. Jolthar couldn''t help but feel a tinge of anticipation as he joined the Maena''s knights in preparing for their mission to deal with the troublesome bandit problem.


    "Alright, listen up, you lot!" Eran barked, his voice cutting through the rtive quiet of the manor courtyard. "Today, we ride out with a wagon full of valuable ores. Our task is to lure those bandits out of hiding and put an end to their meddling once and for all."


    Jolthar couldn''t resist a grin. "So, we''re ying bait, eh? I thought we were supposed to be the hunters, not the hunted."


    Eran shot him a stern look. "This is no time for jests, Jolthar. The Lady Maena has entrusted us with an important mission, and we will see it through."


    "Easy there, big guy," Jolthar cated, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I''m just saying it''s my first time in action. Forgive me for being a little eager."


    The older knight let out a long, suffering sigh. "Just try to keep that eagerness in check, will you? We need to be sharp out there¡ªthese bandits have been giving the baron no small amount of trouble."


    "Understood." Jolthar shed him a rakish grin. "I''ll be the picture of restraint. You can count on me."


    Eran looked less than convinced, but before he could respond, Lady Maena emerged from the manor, her silver-streaked hair gleaming in the morning light.


    "Knights," she addressed them in a firm tone, "today, we ride to put an end to this bandit scourge. Remain vignt, and do not stray from the n. Jolthar."


    Jolthar straightened, suddenly feeling the weight of thedy''s piercing gaze. "Yes, mydy?"


    "See that you keep that impulsive nature of yours in check." Her lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. "We cannot afford any... mishaps on this mission."


    Jolthar couldn''t help but chuckle. "Wouldn''t dream of it, mydy. You can count on me to be on my best behaviour."


    Lady Maena arched a sceptical brow but turned to address the rest of the knights. "Mount up. We ride in five minutes."


    As the group quickly secured their gear and swung into the saddle, Jolthar couldn''t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. Sure, Lady Maena had warned him to keep his impulsive tendencies in check, but when had that ever stopped him before?


    Besides, he reasoned, a little bit of excitement was exactly what this mission needed.


    The wagon,den with crates of gleaming dratium ore, rumbled to life as the knights formed a protective escort around it.


    Jolthar couldn''t help but feel a twinge of envy¡ªhe''d always been more of a "hands-on" kind of guy, preferring the thrill of close-quartersbat to the more subtle art of deception.


    "Remember," Eran called out from his position at the front of the procession, "we need to make this look as authentic as possible. The bandits need to take the bait."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Jolthar grinned. "Rx, Eran. I''ve got this all figured out." He leaned back in his saddle, affecting an air of casual disinterest. "Just leave the acting to me. I''ll have those bandits eating out of the palm of my hand."


    Eran shot him a wary look but didn''t bother to argue. In just a couple of hours, Jolthar had gotten close to the men. That''s why they didn''t bother with his banter, and it also helped to keep things less tense.


    As they made their way down the winding roads, Jolthar noticed that there were fewer people present in the town, and most of them were old and disabled.


    He could see a few empty houses, but he didn''t say anything. Their priority was to catch the bandits.


    Everything about this ce screamed trouble, and that overly respectful Baron and his family. Jolthar was starting to think it wouldn''t just be a simple mission.


    Sure enough, it wasn''t long before the first signs of trouble began to emerge.


    Jolthar noticed the way the birds fell silent, the forest growing unnaturally still. He gripped the reins of his horse a little tighter, his eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of movement.


    Their group disguised as the baron''s men and followed the wagon out onto the road. Right after the baron''s region, the road led into the forest, not too dense and not too sparse, but with an eerie quietness. Not a single sound of a bird or roar of an animal.


    As they ventured further down the road, Jolthar was paying attention all too well, his senses heightened, alert for any potential danger lurking in the shadows.


    Jolthar''s ears perked up as he heard a faint rustling in the bushes nearby, causing him to signal to hispanions to be on guard.


    "Heads up, everyone," he called out, his voice low and urgent. "We''ve gotpany."


    Almost as if on cue, a hail of arrows erupted from the foliage, raining down on the vulnerable wagon and its escorts. Jolthar reacted instinctively, drawing his long sword and urging his horse forward to shield the valuable cargo.


    "Bandits!" Eran shouted, his own de shing as he parried the iing attacks. "Defensive formation, now!"


    The Maena knights quickly fell into a well-practised defensive stance, their armour and shields creating a formidable barrier between the wagon and the hidden assants.


    Jolthar found himself at the forefront of the charge, his sword a blur as he deflected arrow after arrow.


    "Is that all you''ve got?" Eran taunted, his voice dripping with bravado. "Come on out and face us like real men!"


    As if in response to his challenge, a contingent of rough-looking men emerged from the treeline, their weapons drawn and their eyes glinting with malice.


    Jolthar felt a grin spread across his face¡ªfinally, some real action.


    The knights surged forward, their des shing against the bandits'' swords and axes.


    Jolthar was in his element, weaving and dodging, his sword striking with precision and power. But as the battle wore on, he couldn''t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. It was the first battle, and these men weren''t able to scratch him. He had no real battle experience, and yet he was able to overpower them.


    The bandits, for all their ferocity, seemed to be holding back, their attackscking the desperation of true ouws fighting for their lives. Jolthar''s brow furrowed as he parried a swing, his gaze flicking toward Lady. What Jolthar didn''t know was that he was just too strong for these bandits.


    The silver-haired warrior woman''s expression was equally perplexed; her eyes narrowed in concentration as she cut down her opponents with effortless grace.


    Jolthar could see the subtle tensing of her muscles and the way her movements became more measured¡ªa clear sign that she too sensed something amiss.


    "Eran!" Jolthar called out, even as he continued to fend off the bandits. "Something''s not right here!"


    The older knight grunted in acknowledgement, his own sword shing as he dispatched another attacker. "I know! Keep your guard up, Jolthar."


    Jolthar nodded, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Why would the bandits, who had been causing the baron so much trouble, suddenly pull their punches when faced with the might of the Maena knights? It just didn''t add up.


    As the battle reached its climax, Jolthar found himself side-by-side with Lady Maena, their des moving in perfect sync as they cut down the attackers.

 Chapter 42 Decoy for decoy

    The dying mes cast long shadows across the forest clearing where twenty knights had made their camp.


    The air hung thick with the metallic scent of blood and the earthy dampness of the autumn night.


    Five tents formed a rough circle around the central campfire, with thergest¡ªLady Maena''smand tent¡ªset slightly apart from the others.


    The captured bandits'' muffled screams asionally pierced the otherwise quiet night, making even the most hardened knights shift ufortably at their posts.


    Inside themand tent, illuminated by several oilmps that cast a warm but unsettling glow, Lady Maena worked.


    She was tall for a woman, with silver-ck hair pulled back in a severe braid that emphasised her sharp cheekbones and steel-grey eyes. Her armour, though removed for the interrogation, sat on a stand in the corner, still bearing dried blood from the earlier skirmish. She had rolled up the sleeves of her white linen shirt, now spattered with fresh crimson stains.


    Jolthar stood near the tent''s entrance, his broad shoulders tense as he watched the scene unfold.


    At eighteen summers, he was younger than most of the other knights, but his prowess in the day''s battle had proven his worth. His hand rested instinctively on his sword pommel as he observed Lady Maena''s methods with a mixture of respect and unease.


    "I''ll ask again." Maena''s voice was impossibly soft, almost gentle¡ªa stark contrast to her actions. She held a thin, curved de delicately between her fingers, its edge glowing orange from the nearby brazier. "Who sent you?"


    With her experience, she could easily tell that these were justckeys. And that man admitted that they were acting on orders.


    The bandit¡ªa scrawny man with matted brown hair¡ªwrithed against his bonds, the rope cutting into his wrists. His twopanionsy unconscious nearby, having already endured their share of questioning. "Please," he whimpered again, "we''re just hired swords!"n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Eran, Maena''s second-inmand, stepped forward. His weather-beaten face remained impassive as he handed Maena a small vial. "The potion you requested, mydy." His voice carried the distinctive ent of the northern provinces.


    "Hold him," Maenamanded.


    Two knights moved toply, their armour clinking softly as they secured the prisoner''s head.


    With practised precision, Maena dropped three drops of the viscous liquid onto the heated de, producing a sickly sweet vapour. She held it under the bandit''s nose, forcing him to inhale.


    "This concoction," she exined conversationally as if discussing the weather, es from the far eastern kingdoms. It makes everything... more intense." She traced the t of the de along the man''s cheek, leaving an angry red welt. "Every sensation, every cut, every burn ¨C they''ll feel ten times stronger. But it also loosens the tongue wonderfully."


    Jolthar watched as several knights near him averted their eyes.


    He held his ground, watching intently. He had seen Lady Maena in battle¡ªher grace with a sword, her tactical brilliance, her unwavering protection of those under hermand. This side of her, this calcted cruelty, seemed at odds with the woman who just yesterday had shared her rations with a hungry stable boy.


    The bandit''s screams reached a new pitch as Maena began her work in earnest. She was methodical and precise¡ªeach cut and burn carefully ced to cause maximum pain with minimal permanent damage.


    Through it all, she maintained that same soft, almost motherly tone.


    "You see," she continued, wiping her de clean. "I know you''re lying. You are just some low mutts who thought you could stand against me and my knights.


    So tell me while I am asking nicely, Who sent you? Where is the material you stole from the Baron? Regr bandits would have scattered at the first sign of knights. You stood your ground, and died fighting. That speaks of training, of discipline." She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. "That speaks of purpose."


    All the nails of the bandit were missing, and she was looking at the feet when he flinched, and the horror he was in for was evident in his eyes. "You will tell me everything I want to know," she said with a cold smile, "or you will wish you had never crossed paths with me."


    The bandit''s resistance finally cracked.


    Between sobs and gasps, the truth spilled out: They were indeed decoys, meant to draw attention while the main force moved on to their true objective.


    Something the Baron possessed, something valuable enough to sacrifice two dozen men as a distraction.


    Maena straightened, cleaning her hands on a cloth with deliberate care.


    The transformation was immediate and striking¡ªthe torturer vanishing beneath theposed exterior of a nobledy. "Thank you for your cooperation," she said, and with a quick motion, she drove a dagger into the man''s heart.


    A mercy killing, quick and clean.


    "Eran," she turned to her second, "prepare the men to ride. We return to the barony tonight."


    Then, catching Jolthar''s eye, she paused. "You disapprove of my methods, young man?"


    Jolthar met her gaze steadily. "It''s not my ce to judge, mydy."


    A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Yet judge you do. Come walk with me."


    Outside the tent, in the cool night air, Maena''s demeanour softened slightly. "Cruelty for cruelty''s sake is abhorrent," she said quietly. "But sometimes, to protect those we serve, we must be willing to dirty our hands. Better my soul bears this burden than the Baron''snds run red with innocent blood." She ced a hand on Jolthar''s armoured shoulder. "Remember this lesson, young man: True leadership often means making the harsh choices others cannot."


    The camp quickly transformed into a flurry of activity as the knights broke down their tents and prepared for the ride back.


    The bodies of the bandits were burnt¡ªLady Maena insisted on proper disposal, even for enemies.


    As Jolthar mounted his warhorse, he watched her direct the men with calm efficiency. The same hands that had dealt such pain now gently adjusted her saddle strap, her voice carrying clear instructions across the clearing.


    Thepany rode out under the cover of darkness, twenty knights in formation around theirmander.


    Lady Maena led from the front, her pose regal despite the night''s grim work.


    Beside her, Eran kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, while Jolthar found himself studying hismander with new understanding. The moonlight caught the silver streaks in her hair¡ªearned in service to the n, each one probably carrying its own dark story.


    The forest seemed to close in around them as they rode, the darkness holding secrets yet to be unveiled.


    The easy victory over the decoy bandits now felt hollow, a false triumph masking a deeper danger. Their horses'' hooves thundered through the night, the sound echoing ominously in the silent woods.

 Chapter 43 About lady Cleora

    The moonlight filtered through the canopy as thepany rode hard through the forest. The rhythmic thunder of hooves on packed ground and the asional jingle of armour filled the night air.


    Jolthar guided his mount closer to Eran''s, the older knight''s grey stallion matching his stride with his own bay courser.


    "What about the son?" Jolthar kept his voice low, though Lady Maena rode far ahead, deep in conversation with her scouts. The question had been gnawing at him since they''d left the camp.


    "The baron didn''t even speak about him to us. Where do you think he is? The bandits also seemed to be unaware of him."


    Eran''s weathered face tightened, and he nced around before leaning slightly closer to Jolthar.


    The torchlight carried by the nearby riders cast dancing shadows across his scarred features.


    "You need to know something," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thatdy, Lady Cleora, the baron''s wife..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She''s one woman you shouldn''t mess with."


    Jolthar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The baroness'' figure shed in his mind, and he thought he was finally getting his answers about her.


    "All that wealth the baron unts?" Eran continued, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "The vast estates, the trading contracts, the political connections? All of it came from her and her... ideas." The way he said ''ideas'' made Jolthar''s skin crawl.


    "Her father was a wealthy merchant-turned-nobleman," Eran exined, his voice taking on the quiet tone of someone sharing dangerous knowledge. "Had three sons too, all set to inherit the fortune. But then, well..." He made a vague gesture. "They all died. Mysterious circumstances, each one. Hunting idents, falling down stairs, food poisoning. Within a year, she was the sole heir."


    Jolthar''s horse snorted, as if sharing its rider''s unease. "And her marriage?"


    "Ah, now that''s where it gets interesting." Eran''s eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "She was first married to Lord Alryk, a man of noble birth but modest means. Lived with him for more than a decade and had a child with him. Then our baron came along, young and ambitious butnd-poor. Next thing anyone knows, she''s carrying the baron''s child while still married to Alryk."


    "She didn''t bother to hide their affair," Eran added.


    "The scandal nearly broke both families. But Cleora?" Eran gave a dryugh. "She orchestrated everything perfectly. The baron suddenly had enough coin to buy his currentnds. Alryk conveniently disappeared on a hunting trip. And there she was, free to marry her new love, with a daughter on the way."


    "And the missing boy? He''s Alryk''s son?"


    "Exactly. That''s why our dear baron shows such little concern now¡ªthe boy''s not his blood." Eran spat to the side. "Though, if you ask me, there''s more to this story than a missing stepson."


    Jolthar fell silent, processing this information.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    He recalled the few times he''d glimpsed the baroness. There had always been something predatory in her gaze, something that made even hardened warriors look away first.


    The conversation died as they emerged from the forest.


    The baron''s manor loomed before them, its stone walls pale in the moonlight. Torches lined the battlements, and the iron-bound gates stood open, clearly expecting their return. The manor was an imposing structure, three stories of grey stone and dark windows, with four square towers at each corner. Yet somehow, it seemed more threatening than protective.


    As they rode into the courtyard, the great oak doors opened before them, spilling warm light into the courtyard.

 Chapter 44 There are after the vault

    The great hall of the manor was thick with tension. Baron Rothgard paced before the ornate firece, his usualmanding presence diminished by obvious anxiety. Sweat beaded on his balding head despite the cool night air, and his fingers kept worrying at the heavy gold rings on his hands.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "There''s no need," he insisted for the third time, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "The vault''s location is secure. My personal guard can handle any threats." He waved dismissively, but his eyes darted nervously to the shadows.


    After rying the news of what happened, Baron told them that nothing happened here, or for that matter, no bandit was spotted near the manor.


    Maena''s further probing revealed that Baron''s wealth was all in his vault. Then she suspected that bandits may have been aiming for that from the beginning. Maena''s suspicions were confirmed when she noticed the subtle shift in Baron''s demeanor


    Lady Maena stood firm, her blood-stained armour a stark contrast to the baron''s fine silk doublet. "Baron Rothgard, with respect, these were nomon bandits. They were trained, organised, and knew exactly what they were after. If they know about the vault¡ª"


    "They don''t!" the baron snapped, too quickly. "They couldn''t possibly¡ª" He cut himself off, tugging at his cor.


    Jolthar watched from his position near the door, noting how the baron''s eyes kept flicking toward a particr dark corridor. Something about the man''s manner reminded him of a cornered animal.


    Beside him, Eran shifted his weight, his hand resting casually on his sword pommel.


    "My dear husband," a smooth voice cut through the tension like a de through silk. "You''re being rather... obvious."


    All heads turned as Baroness emerged from the shadows. She moved with liquid grace, her deep burgundy gown whispering across the stone floor. In the firelight, her raven hair gleamed like fresh-spilled blood, and her amber eyes held an almost amused glint.


    "Cleora," Baron Rothgard started, "there''s no need to¡ª"


    "To what?" she interrupted, her smile sharp as a dagger. "To ensure the safety of our... investments?"


    "I''ve had enough. I don''t care about the wealth; I just need my son back."


    She turned to Lady Maena. "I know the vault''s location. I''ll lead you there myself."


    Jolthar noticed how the baron seemed to shrink under his wife''s gaze.


    The earlier conversation with Eran echoed in his mind¡ªthis was the woman who had risen from merchant to baroness. Under her gaze, the baron barely looked her in the eye. Though she barely spoke a few words, Baron didn''t even raise his voice against her.


    What other secretsy behind those calcting eyes?


    Thepany rode out again, torches cutting through the darkness.


    Baroness Cleora led them, sitting sidesaddle with unnatural ease despite the rough terrain.


    They rode northeast, away from the main roads and into increasingly wild country. The midnight moon cast everything in silver, making thendscape seem alien and threatening.


    After two hours of hard riding, they came to the medow valley, the cave''s mouth wide open in the in terrain. There was no one present at the entrance, and Cleora''s confusion started from there.


    The entrance wasrger than Jolthar expected, reinforced with heavy timber. The smell that wafted out¡ªa mixture of dampness, human misery, and something worse¡ªmade his horse snort and back away.


    "Follow me," Cleoramanded, dismounting gracefully. She took a torch from the walls and led the way into the darkness.


    "The baron''s great wealth," Cleora exined, her voice eerily pleasant, as if showing guests around a garden. "Did you really think it came just from trade?" She gestured to a particrlyrge tunnel. "The dratium ore here is exceptionally pure. Worth a fortune in the northern markets." She shrugged elegantly. Jolthar was watching her closely, her expression unreadable.


    At first she seemed shocked, quickly masked by tensed curiousity.


    Dratium ore, Jolthar was very familiar with the metal. It was one of the best metals for crafting weapons and armour, highly sought after by warriors and cksmiths alike.


    But something about her manner had changed. There was a tension in her shoulders, a tightness around her eyes. She kept ncing down certain tunnels with an intensity that suggested she was looking for something specific¡ªor someone.


    Then came the sound that made everyone freeze¡ªa child''s scream, echoing from deep within the mine. Cleora''sposure cracked for just a moment, her eyes widening with what looked like genuine fear.


    "What the hell are you doing in these mines?" Jolthar questioned, his voice hoarse. Even though it was dark, Jolthar could see the blood marks on the ground, and the faint smell of fresh blood lingered in the air. Every one of them realised this fact. Whatever this ce was, their horror only started just now.


    Jolthar and the other men dashed towards the source of the scream.

 Chapter 45 Mine slaves

    The torchlight revealed a scene from the deepest circles of hell. The main chamber of the mine opened like a grotesque maw, its rough-hewn walls slick with moisture that caught the flickering light like tears. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies, blood, and despair.


    Scattered throughout the chamber were dozens of workers¡ªmen and women who barely resembled humans anymore. Their bodies were skeletal, skin stretched tight over protruding bones, marked with attice of fresh wounds and old scars.


    They huddled in groups, chained together by heavy iron manacles that had rubbed their wrists and ankles raw and bleeding. Their eyes, when they dared to look up, held the vacant stare of those who had given up hope of salvation.


    Jolthar''s grip tightened on his sword hilt as he took in the scene, his knuckles white beneath his gauntlets. The torchlight caught the tears that had begun to form in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold.


    But it was what he saw next that made his blood boil.


    In the centre of the chamber, a man dressed in rough bandit leather held a small girl by her hair.


    She couldn''t have been more than seven or eight summers old, her once-pretty dress now reduced to filthy rags. Fresh welts criss-crossed her exposed arms and legs, and dried blood matted her dark hair.


    Despite her obvious pain, she remained silent, having learned that crying out only brought worse punishment.


    The bandit yanked her hair sharply, using her as a human shield while keeping the other workers in check. "Stay where you are," he snarled at a woman who had tried to crawl forward¡ªpresumably the girl''s mother.


    The woman copsed back, her sobs echoing off the stone walls.


    Something snapped inside Jolthar.


    The careful discipline of his training, the measured response he had been taught to maintain¡ªit all vanished in a red haze of fury.


    A sound escaped his throat, more animal than human, as he charged forward.


    "Jolthar, wait!" Lady Maena''smand came toote.


    The bandit barely had time to register the armoured figure bearing down on him.


    He tried to pull a knife to use the girl as leverage, but Jolthar was moving with the speed of righteous rage. His long sword, a masterwork of his own creation, described a perfect arc through the air.


    The de caught the bandit just below his jaw, continuing through in a clean sweep that nearly separated his head from his shoulders. His grip on the girl loosened as he crumpled, dead before he hit the ground.


    Jolthar caught the child before she could fall, cradling her against his armour with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the violence of moments before.


    "It''s alright," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "You''re safe now. No one will hurt you anymore."


    The girl looked up at him with eyes too old for her young face. Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaving a smudge of dirt and blood. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "my mama... save my mama..."


    Jolthar mind filled with rage as he watched her dirt-streaked face, her plea for help tugging at his heartstrings. "What''s your name, little one?"


    "Mira," she managed, then winced in pain.


    Behind them, Baroness Cleora stepped forward, her elegant dress incongruous in the grim setting. "What is happening here?" she watched the horror with wide eyes.


    Then they heard a loud noiseing from a tiny entrance that resembled a hole. There were stairs towards the entrance.


    "That''s where the vault is," Cleora cried, pointing to a tunnel that sloped upward. "It leads to the higher levels... to the vault." Something in her voice suggested she was choosing her words carefully.


    "My husband has hidden his wealth there, along with..." She trailed off, ncing at Mira with an unreadable expression.


    Lady Maena nodded sharply. "Eran, take ten men and follow the baroness. Jolthar, you and the others secure this area and help these people."


    Thepany split, with Maena leading one group up the sloping tunnel while Jolthar remained below.


    He gently carried Mira toward the sobbing woman who had tried to reach her earlier.


    "Mama!" Mira called out, trying to squirm from his arms despite her injuries.


    The woman looked up, hope zing in her hollow eyes. She tried to stand but couldn''t, her legs too weak from malnutrition and abuse. Jolthar knelt beside her, still holding Mira, and the girl threw herself into her mother''s arms.


    "I''ll get you out of here," Jolthar promised, his voice thick with emotion. "All of you. You''ll see the sun again." He stood, drawing his sword once more. "But first, I need to deal with them."


    At the far end of the chamber, the remaining bandits had grouped together.


    That''s when one of the bandits came forward, into the light, then removed his mask with deliberate slowness, revealing a face that belonged in nightmares.


    Grey-green skin stretched over massive tusks that protruded from his lower jaw. Brutal scars crossed his face, and his yellow eyes gleamed with cruel intelligence.


    A half-orc, this far from the northern wastes, wearing bandit leathers instead of tribal furs¡ªsomething was very wrong here.


    The orc rolled his massive shoulders, muscles rippling beneath his leather armour. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and his arms were thick as tree trunks. In his hands, he held a massive warhammer that looked like it could crush a man''s skull even through a helmet.


    "Knight," the half-orc growled, his voice like stones grinding together.


    "You should have stayed with yourdy." His tusked mouth split in a horrific grin. "Now you die here, in the dark."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Jolthar gripped his sword tighter, keenly aware of the people behind him.

 Chapter 46 Half-Orc

    The tunnel chamber echoed with the sound of heavy footsteps as Jolthar and the massive orc, now revealed as Gwun, faced each other across the blood-stained ground.


    Ten paces separated them ¨C a distance that seemed both vast and insignificant given the tension crackling through the air. The torchlight cast their shadows long against the mine walls, dancing like dark spectres awaiting violence.


    The half-orc seemed to be a tier-6 warrior, as Jolthar could gauge him. After the recent visit of the goddess, Jolthar was now able to gauge others'' levels. He couldn''t really tell where he was at though; the voidwrath wasn''t dependent on the mana nor aura. It was a ss of its own. Though he possessed an aura, it wasn''t simple to a normal person because of his blessing of the goddess. His aura was ten times purer and more refined whenpared to others.


    Considering his aura, Jolthar was at tier 4, he didn''t have anyone assessing him all these years, and he was alone, practising his sword, honing his skills. Power of voidwrath, the power inherited from the chaos sword, so it was hard to gauge his level from a normal perspective.


    Jolthar''s armour felt heavier than usual, each breathing hard.


    Behind him, he could hear Mira''s soft whimpers and her mother''s prayers, reminding him of what was at stake. The other knights had formed a protective circle around the prisoners, leaving him to face this monster alone.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "You seem like a fresh bud; are you sure you can take me on?" The half-orc smirked, tilting his head.


    "We will see that at the end, don''t we?" You shouldn''t have touched the kid, and I am really pissed off," Jolthar said, his voice still calm but there was subtle anger radiating from him.


    "Let''s begin!" Gwun''s voice boomed off the cave walls, the words barely intelligible through his tusked mouth.


    The orc lifted his massive war hammer, the weapon''s head easily the size of a man''s torso.


    Despite his bulk, Gwun moved with the fluid grace of a practised killer as he settled into abat stance. The leather of his armour creaked with the movement, stretched tight across his enormous frame.


    What happened next defied belief.


    Swoosh!


    Gwun exploded forward with impossible speed, his two hundred kilograms of muscle moving like lightning. The war hammer whistled through the air as it described a perfect arc toward Jolthar''s head.


    The young man had never seen anything move that fast with such mass behind it.


    Jolthar''s years of training took over. His footwork, drilled into him all those years, carried him backwards just enough to avoid the crushing blow. The hammer passed so close he felt the wind of its passage against his face.


    In the same fluid motion, he thrust Knashii, his long sword, toward the orc''s exposed chest.


    But Gwun proved to be more than just raw power.


    The orc twisted with surprising agility, avoiding the thrust while transitioning smoothly into another attack. His hammer became a blur of motion, forcing Jolthar to continuously give ground.


    The young man found himself being pushed back step by step, barely able to maintain his defence against the overwhelming assault.


    CLANG!


    Their weapons finally met in a thunderous collision. The impact sent shockwaves through Jolthar''s entire body. His wrists screamed in protest, feeling as though they might snap at any moment. The vibration travelled up his arms and through his armour, making every joint and muscle cry out in agony.


    From his head to his toes, his body registered nothing but pain.


    He assessed his options with the rity that came from the situation.


    Jolthar had two advantages that Gwun didn''t know about his ability to use both voidwrath and aura.


    Judging by their until now, Jolthar decided to use voidwrath as he thought aura wouldn''t have any effect on the brute. As he had already tested out his attacks using his aura.


    SLAM!


    Another devastating blow from Gwun''s hammer sent vibrations through Knashi. Jolthar smiled seeing that the de was able to fully absorb the impact without breaking. It was his creation after all.


    "That''s a good sword, little man," Gwun growled, genuine appreciation in his monstrous voice. "It doesn''t have a single nick even after receiving my hammer''s attacks."


    "Thanks for thepliment," Jolthar smirked at him.


    CLANG!


    The next attack came with even greater force, catching Jolthar at an awkward angle. The impactunched him through the air like a rag doll, sending him crashing into the stone wall with bone-crushing force.


    SLAM!


    Jolthar wiped the blood from the corner of his lips as he got up from the crash. His body could take a hit. He felt like years of dragon meat were showing its effect. He watched Gwun with a silent gaze. It was his second fight since he left the mountains, and he felt like he was getting the hang of it. Indeed, real battles werepletely differentpared to idle stone opponents.


    Haaaa. Cough! Haaaa...


    Gwun''s yellow eyes gleamed with victory as he raised his hammer for the killing blow.


    "It''s over now. Your sword will fetch a good price. That was a good duel."


    The hammer rose high, its shadow falling across Jolthar''s battered form. One hit from that weapon would end everything¡ªhis dreams, his ambitions, his very life.


    "What are you on about? I am still standing, aren''t I?"


    In that moment of crisis, something awakened in Jolthar. Time seemed to slow as he reached deep within himself, grasping for power he''d touched only once before. The surge came instantly, flooding his body with dark energy that made his hair whip around his face like mes in a hot wind.


    Gwun''s hammer began its descent, but the orc suddenly found his vision going dark. For him, it was as if several hours passed in an instant. When his sight cleared, he found himself unable toplete his attack.


    Looking down, he saw a long de protruding from his chest¡ªKnashii, transformed from gleaming white to shadow-ck, as if it had absorbed all the darkness in the chamber.


    "Just... when..." the orc gasped.


    "You should really watch your opponent carefully," Jolthar began. "Otherwise, he will stick it up your back."


    "That was a good duel."


    SHHHHRAAAAAAAA!


    An impossible sight unfolded before the watching prisoners and knights. The air around Jolthar was sucked into him, like he was absorbing everything around him. Itsted only a few seconds, but everyone in the chamber felt like they were going to be sucked into whatever was pulling them.


    Jolthar stood alone, his breath heavy; he was holding his long sword. Taking one full breath, he flicked his sword, wiping away the blood of the orc, and then sheathed his sword into his scabbard.


    The chamber fell silent except for the quiet sobs of the rescued prisoners and the drip of water from the mine''s ceiling. The remaining bandits, seeing their mighty leader fall, began to back away in terror. They hade expecting to face mere knights; instead, they had witnessed something from the realm of nightmares.

 Chapter 47 Naivety of the plan

    The echoes of battle still rang through the chamber when Lady Maena and her group emerged from the upper tunnel entrance.


    Torchlight spilled down as they descended, revealing several bound prisoners being roughly guided by her knights.


    Among them was a figure that stood out¡ªa man in borate dark robes, his hands bound with special iron shackles marked with glowing runes to suppress magic.


    Blood stained Maena''s armour, fresh crimson droplets still sliding down the polished steel. Her sword, yet unsheathed, bore testament to the violence that had urred above. Behind her calm expression lurked something feral¡ªa predator''s satisfaction after a sessful hunt.


    She surveyed the scene below, her eyes immediately drawn to the massive form of the fallen orc and Jolthar standing over it. The young man''s transformation was evident¡ªsomething about him seemed different, darker.


    "Impressive," Maena said, her voice carrying across the chamber.


    She approached the orc''s corpse, kneeling beside it with practiced efficiency as she noticed something on the orc''s body. Her gauntleted hand reached out, pushing aside the leather armour on its right arm to reveal an intricate glyph burnt into the grey-green flesh. The mark seemed to pulse faintly even in death, aplex pattern of interwoven lines forming a cruel-looking sigil.


    "Savage Creed," she breathed, an edge of disbelief in her voice.


    "The Savage Creed is not just any band of renegades. They''re ex-knights, soldiers who decided the code of honour was merely a suggestion. These aren''t the average cutthroats; they''re elite killers who found joy in massacre, who indulge in chaos."


    Sheathing her de with a sharp click, she added, "The Creed isn''t known to break or fear anything. They''re notorious, almost like ghosts, only emerging to wreak havoc or take lives that nobody else could touch. The fact that you survived¡ªlet alone killed one of them¡ªis no small feat."


    Behind her, one of the captured bandits spilled something interesting. He had witnessed Lady Maena''s brutality above and seen how she had carved through hispanions with mechanical precision and ruthless efficiency. The memory of her methodical ughter had loosened his tongue considerably.


    It was all nned by Baron''s brother Oteys; he was the one who orchestrated this entire thing. He told them about the vault and sent them here.


    Oteys had underestimated Maena and her unit. He thought after killing the bandits they came across in the forest, she would just leave. He didn''t think that she would be thorough with her investigation.


    The reason they were still present in the mines was because the vault was guarded by magic, and they were to destroy the machinations guarding the vault. That''s why they brought a mage with them, but they didn''t have enough time as Maena arrived with her men.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Throughout this revtion, Baroness Cleora maintained an eerily passive expression, her beautiful features carved from marble. But Jolthar noticed something sh behind her amber eyes¡ªsatisfaction, perhaps? Or was it merely the torchlight ying tricks?


    "Search them all," Maenamanded. Her knights moved quickly, stripping the captured bandits and the robed mage of any remaining weapons or magical items. Each prisoner was thoroughly checked for hidden messages or identifying marks. Several bore tattoos or brands that would help trace their affiliations.


    What they found painted a picture of a carefully orchestrated operation. These weren''t random bandits but a coordinated force, mixingmon thugs with elite mercenaries and at least one trained mage.


    Someone had spent considerable resources to put this together.

 Chapter 48 Barons brother

    Once the prisoners were secured, attention turned to the rescued workers. They have returned to the town where people stayed.


    Baroness Cleora, moving with her characteristic grace, took charge of their care. She dispatched servants to bring food and water while organising teams of healers to tend to the injured.


    The healers worked efficiently, their hands glowing with healing magic as they moved from patient to patient.


    Mira and her mother were among the first to receive care.


    The little girl had finally fallen asleep, exhausted by her ordeal, while healers tended to her wounds. Her mother held her hand throughout, tears streaming down her face as she watched colour slowly return to her daughter''s cheeks.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    As the situation with the workers stabilised, Lady Maena organised the return to the baron''s manor.


    Baron Rothgard stood at the top of the steps, pacing nervously. His fine clothes were dishevelled, suggesting he hadn''t slept all night. When he saw the approaching procession, his face went pale.


    Cleora ascended the steps past him without a word, her burgundy dress somehow still immacte despite the night''s events.


    The contrast between husband and wife couldn''t have been more stark¡ªhe a bundle of nervous energy, she a picture ofposed control.


    Lady Maena dismounted at the foot of the steps, her armour caked with dried blood and mine dust. She looked up at the baron, her expression unreadable. The truth about his brother''s involvement still hung in the air like a drawn de, waiting to fall.


    Jolthar remained near the rear of the procession, still processing the night''s events.


    The pieces were there¡ªOteys''s involvement, the Savage Creed''s presence, Cleora''s careful passivity, and somewhere in the background, the still-missing son. He searched for Oteys and found him standing behind the baron, still his gaze focused on Baroness.


    Jolthar couldn''t understand what he was doing. Was he just stupid, or was he blinded by pure lust that he couldn''t see what was happening in front of him? From the first encounter with the bandits, then to the revtions in the mines, Jolthar felt like it was a n that was done by a stupid man.


    Otherwise, he wouldn''t have acted in such a way when the knights from Kaezr were involved.


    Oteys looked like the kind of man who''d sell his own shadow for a penny. From the little he was here, Jolthar could tell that the entire time he noticed Oteys looking at Cleora, and Jolthar felt she had something to do with his whole fiasco.


    The only time her expression changed was when she found out the people in the mines, and she wasn''t surprised to find that this was done by Oteys.


    The rising sun cast long shadows across the manor''s courtyard, shadows that seemed to whisper of secrets yet to be revealed.


    Baron was anxious as he asked, "What happened?"


    Lady Maena showed the prisoners and said, "They im that this was all your brother''s doing."


    Oteys, who was standing behind Baron, suddenly his expression cracked. Until now, he was confident that the men he hired wouldn''t slip a word to anyone. He believed them to do as he was such a naive man, being yed by a woman.


    And even now, he hadn''t realised that fact.


    The great hall of the baron''s manor had be an arena of truth, where years of lies and maniption were finally unravelling.


    Baron Rothgard''s face drained of colour as he turned to face his younger brother.


    Oteys stood near the massive firece, his usually cid features twisted into something darker.


    The flickering mes cast dancing shadows across his face, making him appear almost demonic.


    "Brother," Baron Rothgard''s voice trembled with rage and disbelief. "Speak. Tell me this isn''t true."


    Oteys had always been the quieter brother, the one who stayed in the shadows of his sibling''s sess. But now, as if a dam had broken, decades of resentment poured forth.


    "Isn''t true?" Oteys spat, his carefully maintained facade of servility cracking. "What isn''t true, brother? How you''ve always looked down on me? How you''ve treated me like a servant rather than blood?" His voice rose with each usation.


    "Or perhaps how you stole another man''s wife and her fortune, using it to build your precious barony while I watched from the sidelines?"


    The assembled knights and servants pressed themselves against the walls, trying to be invisible as the family drama unfolded.


    Jolthar, still battle-worn from his encounter with the orc, watched intently as years of family secrets spilled into the open.


    "You know nothing of-" the baron began, but Oteys cut him off with a harshugh.


    "Nothing? I know everything, brother! I know about the mines, about how you''ve enved your own people, working them to death for a few more coins in your coffers." His eyes gleamed with a fanatic light.


    "The precious vault where you hoard your blood money ¨C did you think I wouldn''t find out? That''s why I hired the men. To take it all, to finally im what should have been shared between us!"


    For a moment, Rothgard stared at his brother in silence. Years of familial love, care, and attention¡ªit all seemed nothing¡ªin this moment.


    The baron''s response was explosive.


    With a roar of rage, heunched himself at his brother. His fine silk doublet tore as he grabbed Oteys by the throat, mming him against the stone wall. The younger brother''s head cracked against the stone, but he continued tough¡ªa horrible, broken sound.


    "You ungrateful wretch!" Baron Rothgard shouted, spittle flying from his lips. "I fed you, clothed you, gave you a ce in my household!"


    The fight that followed was ugly,cking the elegance of trained warriors. It was the brawl of brothers, fuelled by decades of resentment and betrayal. Fists flew, blood spattered on the expensive carpets, and neither man noticed the calcting look in Baroness Cleora''s eyes as she watched.


    Jolthar, who was so invested in her reactions at this point, watched her.


    Finally, the baron stood victorious over his beaten brother.


    But his triumph was short-lived as a new realization dawned on his face. He turned slowly to face his wife, his eyes narrowing.


    "You," he whispered, then louder, "YOU! You''re the one who corrupted his mind!" He advanced on Cleora, his hands clenched into fists. "I saw you with him, whispering in corners, feeding him poison about me. I know you did this!"


    "What are you talking about?" She asked, shocked at his usation.


    "I knew you did something to him; you are a conniving bitch."


    That''s when their daughter stepped in; she stood between them and said, "Father, haven''t you done enough?"


    The sound of Baron''s hand striking Cleora echoed through the chamber like a thunderp.


    She stumbled backwards, her hand pressed against her reddening cheek, but her eyes remained defiant. The young girl¡ªher daughter¡ªcried out and tried to run to her mother, but Baron roughly shoved her aside.


    Jolthar went and helped her regain her bnce, and that''s when he felt it¡ªthe unmistakable aura the goddess had described. It radiated from her like moonlight through water, subtle but unmistakable to those who knew what to look for. Her features were a younger echo of Cleora''s, but there was something else there¡ªsomething behind her eyes that spoke of a soul far older than her teenage years would suggest. When he first saw her, he didn''t have time to notice as he was busy with his own thoughts.


    "Another one," he thought, recognising in her the same mark of reincarnation he carried within himself. The goddess had been right¡ªhe wasn''t the only one.


    Baron''s voice cut through his thoughts, harsh and cruel as he towered over Cleora. "You witch! You corrupted my brother''s mind with yourmon blood!" His hand raised for another strike.


    Jolthar''s eyes flickered to Maena, who stood watching the scene unfold with the stillness of a statue. Her face betrayed nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.


    She was waiting, testing, and observing how events would unfold.


    "Baron," Jolthar''s voice carried the weight of steel, "you have done enough. Or have you forgotten you stand in the presence of Lady Maena?"


    Baron turned, his face flushed with rage and drink. Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted, "This is family matter! You have no right¡ª"


    "Perhaps it was," Jolthar cut him off, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. "But you made it the n''s concern the moment you called us here. Shall we discuss the children in your mines? The ones working day and night, their small hands perfect for reaching into narrow seams? Or perhaps we should talk about your illegal trading?"


    "I am a noble of the empire!" Baron drew himself up, puffing out his chest. "You can''t touch me. One word from me and you will be disappeared from the face of earth."


    Maena was still silent; Jolthar watched her, trying to gauge what she was thinking. What Baron said was the truth; he was not some man who achieved holding the rank of baron my merits; his family has deep connections within the empire, and it was the reason Cleora selected him in the first ce.


    Jolthar watched the girl; she hurt when she was pushed aside, crouched beside her mother, whose face reddened by the p.


    This man, human filth, made those little children to work, and now he was not even showing remorse for his actions, instead unting his power and connection.


    Maena was still not opening her mouth.


    Baron then said, "You have done enough; now just get out of my barony."

 Chapter 49 Complications of a lover boy

    "And you talked enough too, you dumb fatass bitch," Jolthar said calmly, walking towards Baron.


    Eran''s expression changed when he watched Jolthar. Maena''s lips curled into a smile.


    "You wouldn''t dare," Baron said, his voice faltering.


    The whisper of steel filled the air as Jolthar''s de cleared its scabbard. "I wouldn''t? I think you''ll find I can. And I will." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "For the children in your mines."


    The sword moved like lightning, its arc perfect and precise. Baron''s eyes widened in shock as the de opened a shallow cut across his chest ¨C deep enough to kill.


    For a moment, he stood frozen, mouth agape in a silent scream, before crumpling to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The smell of blood filled the air.


    Then, stillness. The mighty Baron, who had terrorised so many,y dead at their feet.


    The gathered witnesses stood in stunned silence until Maena stepped forward, her eyes fixed not on the corpse but on Jolthar. Her weathered face softened with an expression caught between pride and remembrance. "For a moment, I felt like I was watching your mother, Jolthar," she said, her voice carrying both warmth and a hint of old pain. "She was also brave like you, never standing for any injustice."


    Jolthar met her gaze with a small smile, saying nothing but acknowledging the weight of theparison. He didn''t really know her, but it was the first time anyone mentioned her to him.


    Maena''s father was the patriarch''s uncle, making her Jolthar''s aunt. And she grew up along with Jolthar''s mother and knew her very well. It was also one of the reasons she epted Jolthar into her unit.


    Maena''s practical nature quickly reasserted itself. "Don''t worry about what''s toe," she dered, her voice carrying the authority of someone used tomand. "That family he mentioned? We''ll deal with them when they appear."


    She turned to address the Baron''s widow, who stood trembling but straight-backed near her husband''s body. "Now then, with your husband dead, you''re the head, Baroness. I don''t care what you''ve done before this day.


    What my nephew said is true¡ªI cannot tolerate such acts towards children. About the matter thates next, perhaps we should discuss matters somewhere more... Appropriate."


    Avelora, Cleora''s daughter''s name, didn''t even flinch when her father was killed right in front of her; she just helped her mother and followed her to the meeting hall.


    They relocated to the meeting hall, its grand wooden tables and tapestried walls a stark contrast to the scene of death they''d left behind.


    Once seated, Maena leaned forward, her eyes intent. "Tell me about your missing son."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The Baroness''sposure finally cracked. She was veryposed and opened her mouth to speak. "I cannot thank you enough for what you''ve done today."


    Maena raised a hand, cutting off further expressions of gratitude. "Save your thanks. We''re not doing this out of charity.


    From now on, we''ll be taking thirty percent of the mine''s profit. Not more, not less, and its final." Her lips curled in a predatory smile. "In exchange, you''ll have our protection. I think you''ll find it''s a fair arrangement."


    The Baroness fell silent; her eyes turned to her daughter, who nodded. "Thank you. Your protection is worth far more than thirty percent."


    Jolthar was leaning to the door at the hall''s entrance, watching the mother and daughter closely. How the daughter seemed soposed for a 14 year old girl who just saw her father die right in front of her eyes. He was sure that she wasn''t just a kid.


    Then Cleora said, "About my son, I think we need to talk to Oteys."


    At Maena''s signal, guards brought in Oteys, the Baron''s brother. The man looked considerably less confident than he had in previous encounters, his eyes darting between the dead Baron''s widow and his captors.


    A weakugh bubbled from Oteys''s bloody lips. "The boy? Oh, that''s the best part." He coughed, spitting blood onto the expensive carpet. "He came to me, begging for help to disappear. Said he''d found love in Seragilo and wanted to escape this gilded prison."


    Another wetugh. "I just gave him what he wanted. But I wanted this to turn in my favour."


    He looked at Cleora and said, "I desired you; I craved for your touch; that''s why I used your boy as your weakness and wanted bed you, but you insisted that you wanted the boy. So I came up with a n; I could say that he was kidnapped and demand more coin from you. That''s why I sent out word that your son was kidnapped."


    "But I dropped the ransom the moment you started to give in. Watching you fall right into my hands was... intoxicating," he said, hisughter a chilling whisper that echoed with twisted delight.


    The revtion sent shockwaves through the hall. Servants gasped, knights murmured among themselves, and Lady Maena''s eyes narrowed as she processed this new information.


    But it was Baroness Cleora''s reaction that caught all attention.


    For the first time, her perfectposure cracked. A tremor ran through her hand as she touched it to her throat. "Seragilo," she whispered, and in that single word was a wealth of emotion that none had expected from the seemingly cold-hearted woman.


    The pieces began to fall into ce¡ªtheplex web of maniption and counter-maniption, the hidden motives, the tragic irony of a son unknowingly disrupting his mother''s careful ns.


    The baroness had orchestrated a delicate game of political chess, only to find that her own son had flipped the board in pursuit of love.


    As Oteys spoke, Jolthar''s mind suddenly shed to a recent memory ¨C Katheryn, the woman he''d encountered just days before. She went to seragilo.


    The day''s events had set multiple wheels in motion.


    The Baron was dead; justice of a sort had been served, but the mystery of the missing son had only grown moreplex.


    As servants began lighting the evening candles in the meeting hall, Jolthar knew their work was far from finished.


    Maena seemed to read his thoughts. "One thing at a time, nephew," she said quietly. "We''ve dealt with the immediate threat. Now we can focus on finding the boy."


    Jolthar scratched his head, all of sudden she started calling him nephew and it was knew to him. Her demeanour hadn''t changed, but the way she talked was in contrast to her actions.


    The baroness, watching their exchange with keen eyes, straightened in her chair. "Whatever you need from me to find my son, you shall have it. Resources, information, anything."


    "Good," Maena replied, her tone returning to its businesslike edge. "Because this mission turned out to be more of a fiasco than anticipated, and the promised amount for the mission had increased ten times."


    The candles flickered as night began to fall outside the meeting hall windows, casting long shadows across the faces of those gathered.


    Jolthar couldn''t hide his surprise at Maena''s deration to pursue this matter further. From what he has observed so far, she isn''t a woman who would jump to conclusions or make rash decisions.


    The Blue Rose was neither¡ªthey were shadows within shadows, whispers that made even hardened criminals nervous.


    As if reading the doubt in his expression, Maena''s lips curved into a knowing smile. "This barony is in our control now; shouldn''t we take care of it?" Her voice carried the same practical tone she used when discussing business ledgers as if protecting their new interests from a legendary organisation was simply another day''s work.


    Jolthar nodded slowly, but the furrow in his brow deepened. "But isn''t Blue Rose a powerful and very secretive group?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice despite the privacy of the meeting hall.


    "How in the hell did he meet the daughter of the head of Blue Rose seraglio?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implications.


    The Baroness cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "The Blue Rose isn''t as far from here as you might think," she offered, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the wooden table. "If I remember correctly..." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "There was an incident, perhaps six months ago. The daughter¡ªshe came to the barony to negotiate ore prices personally."


    "I believe that''s when they met. When it happened."


    Before anyone could respond to this revtion, a disturbance in the air caught their attention.


    A ck pigeon, its feathers gleaming with an unnatural iridescence that marked it as a magical messenger, materialised seemingly from nowhere. It circled the room once beforending with precise grace on the table directly in front of the Baroness.


    The room fell silent.


    Magical messenger birds were rare and expensive¡ªused only for the most urgentmunications by those wealthy enough to afford such services. The pigeon''s presence here now could not be a coincidence.


    With trembling fingers, the Baroness carefully untied the small scroll from the bird''s leg. The seal was unmarked, but the paper itself seemed to shimmer faintly in the candlelight, another sign of its magical nature. As she unrolled it, the pigeon remained perfectly still, its unnaturally intelligent eyes scanning the room''s inhabitants.


    Colour drained from the Baroness''s face as she read, her hands shaking so violently that Maena reached out to steady them. "It''s from my son," she whispered, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard before continuing. "He... he needs help. The daughter of the matriarch of Blue Rose..." She looked up, terror in in her eyes. "She''s trying to kill him."

 Chapter 50 I will go there myself

    Maena took the letter from the Baroness''s trembling hands, her eyes scanning the magical parchment with practised efficiency. The handwriting was hurried but legible, bearing the clear marks of desperate haste:


    Mother,


    I pray this finds you. I''ve escaped the Blue Rose women and taken refuge in Hamrasa, the river trading city. I''m hiding in the old merchant quarter but don''t know how long I''ll be safe. They have eyes everywhere. If you have any love for me, please send help. I can''t face them alone.


    - Ron.


    A dry chuckle escaped Maena''s lips as she finished reading.


    She turned to Cleora, the newly-made Baroness, with a mix of amusement and disdain. "Your son doesn''t have any shame, does he? Running to his mother after stirring up trouble with the Blue Rose?"


    Cleora remained silent, her face a mask of worried dignity, but her daughter Nora shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the stone floor. "You!" she burst out, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion.


    "It wasn''t my brother''s fault! Those witches from the Blue Rose must have done something to him."


    Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but then, remarkably, she managed to modte her tone. "And weren''t youmissioned to save my brother in the first ce? Please... please save him."


    Thest words came out as a respectful request rather than a demand, the shift in tone so artful it caught Maena off guard.


    She studied the young woman with new interest, noting the way Nora had managed to express both righteous anger and careful deference in the same breath. It was the kind of social manoeuvring Maena appreciated¡ªuseful in both business and survival.


    "Fine, fine," Maena said, rising from her seat with a theatrical sigh. "We''ll get your brother. Don''t worry yourself further."


    Jolthar watched the exchange with keen interest, particrly noting Nora''s performance.


    The girl clearly knew how to navigate treacherous social waters, adapting her approach even in moments of high emotion. She had been a steadfast support to her mother through all this, he realised, managing their precarious situation with surprising skill for one so young.


    After bidding farewell to the Baroness and her daughter, Maena gathered her men in a private chamber. The atmosphere grew tense as they discussed their next moves.


    The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the walls as they debated their options.


    "The Blue Rose isn''t somemon street gang," one of her lieutenants argued, nervously fingering his weapon. "Going against them for a few coins would be suicide. The n won''t appreciate us making such a powerful enemy."


    "The baron''s death was one thing," Eran added. "Clean, quick, and justified. But the Blue Rose? They have connections in every major city. Their revenge can span decades."


    Maena leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming a thoughtful rhythm on the table. "You''re not wrong," she admitted. "This is a different beast entirely from dealing with a corrupt baron. The Blue Rose operates in shadows we can''t even see."


    She nced at Jolthar. "And yet, we''ve already stepped into this dance, haven''t we? The moment we took control of this barony, we inherited its problems."


    "And its opportunities," Jolthar added quietly, earning a sharp look from her.


    "You see something in this mess worth pursuing?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.


    "The Blue Rose may be powerful, but they''re not invincible," Jolthar responded. "They maintain their power through fear and secrets. But now we have something they might want¡ªknowledge of where their leader''s daughter''s...panion has fled." He chose thest word carefully, still uncertain of the true nature of the rtionship between Ron and the Blue Rose daughter.


    Maena''s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You''re suggesting we use this situation rather than run from it?"


    "I am saying that we don''t need to involve the n name in resuing that man."


    "I''ll disguise myself as a wandering mercenary," Jolthar exined, his eyes bright with the confidence of youth. "Someone unremarkable, just another sword for hire in a city full of them. They won''t suspect I''m connected to the barony or to you."


    Maena''s chuckle held more worry than amusement. "Do you even know anything about them, Jolthar? The Blue Rose isn''t somemon street gang you can outsmart with a simple disguise. Theirwork of spies and informants¡ª"


    Jolthar waved off her concerns with a casual gesture that made Eran, Maena''s veteran lieutenant, grimace. "I''ll handle it. Trust me."


    "Handle it?" Eran stepped forward, his scarred face tight with concern. "Boy, you don''t know what you''re getting into. The Blue Rose... they don''t just kill their enemies. They make examples of them. I''ve seen what they do to people who cross them ¨C things that would make even yourdy''s methods seem gentle."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The torchlight caught the determined set of Jolthar''s jaw as he faced the older warrior. "Give me until tomorrow''s dusk. If I haven''t returned with Ron by then,e looking for me¡ªor don''t.


    Your choice." His eyes met Maena''s. "But this is the best way. A small group moving quietly will have a better chance than any show of force."


    Maena studied him for a long moment, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her wine cup.


    Finally, she nodded. "Very well. Until dusk tomorrow. But Jolthar..." Her voice hardened.


    As Jolthar prepared for his mission, stripping off his distinctive armour and gear until he was left with only his long sword and simple traveller''s clothes, his mind wandered to the Baroness and her desperate plea.


    There was more to his willingness to help than mere duty or profit¡ªthe baroness and her daughter. He needed to make himself their saviour, and only then could he get his answers from Nora.


    The map they''d given him was detailed enough, showing the winding paths to Hamrasa along with the city''s major districts. It was to help him reach faster, the map showing the shortcuts to the city.


    Mounting a borrowed horse¡ªhis own mount was too recognisable¡ªhe set out under the cover of early evening.


    The journey passed quickly, the well-maintained trade road making for easy travel.


    As the hours wore on, thendscape gradually changed from the barony''s familiar hills to the tter riverside terrain that marked the approach to Hamrasa.


    The first thing he noticed was the smell¡ªnot the usual stench of a riverside city, but aplex mixture of exotic spices, strange foods, and countless bodies all pressed together in the humid air.

 Chapter 51 A city of diversity

    Hamrasa revealed itself gradually through the morning mist, a sprawling maze of buildings that seemed to have grown without n or purpose. Unlike the ordered streets of most human cities, Hamrasa''s thoroughfares twisted and turned like the river itself, creating abyrinth that would challenge any pursuer¡ªor pursued.


    The city''s famous diversity struck Jolthar immediately.


    Halflings darted between the legs of taller folk, their quick movements and quicker fingers marking them as members of the city''s infamous messengerworks¡ªthough messenger was often a polite euphemism for spy or thief. Dwarven merchants argued prices in their booming voices, their borately braided beards marking their n affiliations for those who knew how to read such signs.


    Elves were fewer, as he''d expected¡ªtheir kind generally preferred forests to city walls¡ªbut those he did see carried themselves with the distant pride typical of their race. They clustered near the few gardens and green spaces that dotted the city, as if trying to pretend they were still among their beloved trees.


    But it was the beastmen that truly caught his attention.


    They came in all varieties ¨C some nearly human save for a tail or pointed ears, others so bestial they seemed more animal than person.


    The females among them... Jolthar found his gaze lingering on a leopard-woman haggling at a fruit stall, her spotted fur gleaming in the morning sun, her movements containing a predatory grace that made his mouth go dry.


    "Focus," he muttered to himself, forcing his eyes away. He had a mission, and getting distracted by exotic beauty would only get him killed. The northwest quarter, ording to Ron''s letter.


    That''s where he needed to go.


    Leaving his horse at a public stable¡ªone that catered to a diverse enough clientele that his presence wouldn''t be remarkable¡ªJolthar began making his way through the crowded streets.


    The northwest quarter rose before him, its buildings growing progressively more decrepit as he moved away from the river. This had once been the merchant district, he recalled from his briefing, but trade patterns had shifted over the years, leaving behind empty warehouses and forgotten dreams.


    Perfect hiding ce for someone on the run.


    He stopped at a tavern that looked slightly less rundown than its neighbours¡ªThe Broken Barrol, its weather-beaten sign proimed in three differentnguages.


    Inside, themon room was surprisingly clean, if dimly lit. The clientele was exactly what he''d hoped for: mercenaries, sell-swords, and others of questionable profession. The kind of people who wouldn''t look twice at a stranger asking questions, as long as those questions came with coins.


    The bartender was a dwarf woman perched on a raised tform behind the bar, her grey hair tied back in a severe bun. She watched Jolthar approach with the wary eye of someone who''d seen too much trouble walk through her door.


    "Ale," he said, cing a silver coin on the counter. "And information, if you''re selling."


    She poured his drink with practiced efficiency, her small hands somehow managing therge human-sized mug without difficulty. "Information''s expensive in Hamrasa, stranger. Especially the kind that keeps you breathing."


    Jolthar took a slow sip of his ale¡ªbetter quality than he''d expected¡ªand ced another silver beside the first. "Just looking for work. Heard there might be someone in the quarter who needs protection. Someone who might pay well to stay... hidden."


    The halfling''s eyes narrowed fractionally. "Lot of people looking to stay hidden in Hamrasa. Most of them have good reason to." She nced at his long sword. "And most of them already have all the protection they need."


    "Blue Rose protection, you mean?" He kept his voice casual, watching her reaction carefully.


    Themon room grew noticeably quieter.


    A few patrons suddenly found urgent business elsewhere, while others shifted their positions to better watch the exchange. The woman''s face remained carefully neutral, but her hand moved below the bar¡ªto a weapon, Jolthar was certain.


    "That''s not a name wise folk throw around carelessly," she said quietly. "Especially not strangers who might not know all the... local customs."


    Jolthar leaned forward slightly, pitching his voice for her ears alone. "Maybe I''m not as much a stranger as I seem. Maybe I know exactly whose protection matters in this city." He slid a gold coin across the bar ¨C far more than information usually costs.


    "And maybe I know someone who''s trying very hard to avoid that protection. Someone who might pay well for an alternative."


    The woman studied him for a long moment, her aged eyes missing nothing.


    Finally, she palmed the gold with a movement so smooth it seemed to vanish into thin air. "There''s an old warehouse three streets over. Blue door, missing half its paint. Someone''s been sleeping there the past two nights. Someone who jumps at shadows." She paused meaningfully.


    "Someone who might not see tomorrow''s sunrise if certain people have their way."


    Jolthar nodded his thanks, finishing his ale unhurriedly. No point in drawing attention by rushing out. As he stood to leave, the woman spoke again, her voice barely a whisper.


    "Word of advice, free of charge: whatever you''re nning, whatever you think you know about the Rose ¨C you don''t. Not really. Walk away now, while you still can."


    He gave her a smile that didn''t reach his eyes. "Thanks for the ale."


    Outside, the sun had climbed higher, burning away thest of the morning mist. The streets were fuller now, which meant more eyes watching and more potential informants to report his movements. But it also meant more cover, more faces in the crowd to hide among.


    As he made his way toward the warehouse, Jolthar found himself wondering if Eran had been right. Maybe he was in over his head.


    But he was here now,mitted to this course. Somewhere in this maze of streets, a young man was hiding from killers, hoping for rescue. And somewhere else in the city, the daughter of the Blue Rose''s matriarch was hunting him, turning from lover to executioner for reasons Jolthar still didn''t understand.


    He touched the hilt of his sword, drawingfort from its familiar presence.


    By dusk tomorrow, this would all be resolved, one way or another. Either he''d have saved Ron and proved Maena''s doubts wrong, or...


    Well, if he failed, at least he wouldn''t have to hear Maena say, "I told you so."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

 Chapter 52 Found the lover boy

    "Of all the fleabag ces in all the riverside cities," Jolthar muttered to himself as he slouched in the shadows of barely holding structure, "he had to pick the one that smells like pickled fish and broken dreams."


    He''d been tracking Ron through Hamrasa''s winding streets for the better part of the day, following whispers and batting his eyshes at various serving girls who seemed all too eager to point him toward the baron''s son.


    Not that Jolthar could me them ¨C even he had to admit that Ron''s reputation for devastating good looks hadn''t been exaggerated.


    When he finally spotted his quarry in the tavern''s darkest corner, Jolthar nearly rolled his eyes at the melodrama of it all. He was able to be recognised by the pictures shown by his mother.


    There sat Ron around histe twenties, looking like a hero from some tragic romance bad despite his attempts at disguise. The hood of his cloak couldn''t hide the perfect line of his jaw or the way his golden hair caught what little light reached his hiding spot.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Even trying to be invisible, the man was drawing lingering looks from every woman in the establishment.


    "You''re really bad at hiding for someone whose life depends on it," Jolthar announced, dropping into the seat across from Ron.


    He took a deliberate sip from his ale, watching with amusement as the other man nearly jumped out of his skin. "I mean, seriously? The mysterious hooded figure routine? You might as well have hung a sign around your neck saying, ''Hello, I''m being hunted by rose women; please find me here.''"


    Ron''s hand had gone to a concealed weapon, but Jolthar just waved it away. "Oh, put that down before you hurt yourself, pretty boy. I''m here from your mother. Though after hearing some interesting rumours around town, I''m starting to think she didn''t tell us quite everything about your... situation."


    The baroness''s son slowly rxed, though his eyes kept darting to the tavern''s doors and windows. He understood that his mother had gotten his letter, but he couldn''t help but worry seeing the young Jolthar.


    "How old are you?" He asked with a really curious doubt. Because Jolthar was just a teen who looked barely old enough to be out on his own, let aloneing to rescue.


    Jolthar smirked, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes as he replied, "Old enough to handle whatever your situation may be."


    "Do you even know about the people who are after me?"


    "Yes, I do."


    Up close, Jolthar could see why he''d earned such a reputation. The man looked like he''d been carved from marble by an artist with a particrly romantic vision ¨C high cheekbones, soulful eyes, the kind of features that probably made poetry write itself.


    Currently, those perfect features are creased with worry.


    "We need to leave," Ron whispered urgently. "The Blue Rose has people everywhere. If you found me¡ª"


    "Oh, they''ll definitely find you too," Jolthar agreed cheerfully, taking another sip of his ale. "In fact, I''m counting on it. That''s why I made sure to ask about you rather loudly in three different taverns on my way here. I''d give it..." he nced at the gradually darkening sky through the grimy window.


    "maybe another hour before their representatives arrive?"


    Ron''s face went from worried to horrified. "You... you want them toe find us? Are you insane?"


    "Probably!" Jolthar replied with a grin that didn''t quite reach his eyes.


    "But see, here''s the thing ¨C I''d rather deal with this mess here and now than drag it back to the barony. Less coteral damage that way, you understand?


    Speaking of messes..." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Why don''t you tell me exactly why the Blue Rose wants you dead? And please, make it good. I''ve bet myself a silver piece that it''s something spectacrly stupid."


    For a moment, Ron looked like he might bolt, but then his shoulders slumped. "It... it wasn''t supposed to end up like this," he began, and Jolthar had to admit the man even managed to make dejection look attractive.


    "It started with Belon¡ªthe daughter. We met when she came to negotiate ore prices at the barony."


    "Yes, yes, love at first sight, burning passion, forbidden romance, I''m sure it was all very exciting," Jolthar waved impatiently. "Skip to the part where it all went wrong."


    Ron took a deep breath. "Things were wonderful at first. She brought me to stay at the main house of the Blue Rose. I''d never seen anything like it ¨C such luxury, such power. And Belon... she was everything I''d ever dreamed of."


    "I''m sensing a ''but''ing," Joltharmented dryly. "A veryrge ''but'' that probably makes me want to smack you."


    "If you talk to me like that, then we are going to have a problem," Ron said, feeling irritated.


    "Sensitive now, are we? You sure sound arrogant for someone who ran away with a lover, leaving behind their mother and sister," Jolthar spoke right in his face.


    Ron averted his gaze, feeling a surge of guilt and shame wash over him. He knew he had made a mistake, but the allure of Belon and the Blue Rose had been too strong to resist. Now, faced with Jolthar''s piercing words, he couldn''t help but wonder if he had made the right choice after all.


    "So, stop bothering with me and continue with your fairy tale," Jolthar said nonchntly. He wasn''t giving him respect, not for the one who ran away from a family that cares for you.


    "Her mother, Raayani..." Ron''s voice grew quieter. "She invited us both to drink with her one evening. The wine was... strong. Exotic. One thing led to another, and..."


    Jolthar closed his eyes, praying to whatever gods might be listening for patience. "Please don''t tell me you slept with the mother of the woman you were courting.


    Please. I don''t have enough ale in front of me for that level of stupidity."

 Chapter 53 Slept with her mother

    Ron''s silence was answer enough.


    "Oh, for fuck''s sake," Jolthar groaned, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. "You did. You absolutely did. And let me guess ¨C it didn''t end there, did it?"


    "Raayani said she''d taken a liking to me," Ron continued, having the grace to look at least somewhat ashamed. "She wanted... she wanted to keep me for herself."


    Jolthar lifted his head just enough to fix Ron with an incredulous stare. "So let me make sure I understand this correctly," he said, ticking points off on his fingers.


    "You started a romance with the daughter of one of the most dangerous organisations in the world. You stayed in their house, enjoying their hospitality. Then you slept with the mother ¨C the actual leader of said organisation. And now you''re surprised that the daughter you betrayed wants you dead?"


    "When you put it that way..."


    "When I put it that way, it sounds exactly as idiotic as it actually is," Jolthar finished for him.


    In his head, he was running through every curse he knew in differentnguages, saving the really creative ones for special emphasis. "Gods above and below, man! Did you leave anyone else in the Blue Rose leadership you wanted to seduce? A favourite aunt perhaps? A cousin twice removed?"


    Ron actually had the audacity to look offended. "It wasn''t like that! Things just... happened."


    "Things just happened," Jolthar repeated tly. "Things just happened. Like tripping and identally falling into bed with the mother of the woman you were supposedly in love with? Those kinds of things?"


    Before Ron could defend himself further, Jolthar held up a hand. "No, no, don''t exin. I don''t think my faith in humanity could take it." He nced toward the window again, noting the deepening shadows.


    "Besides, I believe our other guests will be arriving soon."


    As if on cue, the ambient noise in the tavern began to die down, conversations falling silent as new figures appeared in the doorway.


    Jolthar didn''t need to look to know who they were ¨C the sudden tension in the air was announcement enough.


    "Right on schedule," he murmured, straightening in his seat.


    "Now then, pretty boy, here''s what''s going to happen. You''re going to sit there, look appropriately contrite ¨C which shouldn''t be hard given the magnitude of your fuck-up ¨C and let me do the talking. With any luck, I can prevent this from turning into the kind of bloodbath that ruins perfectly good drinking establishments."


    Ron''s hand had gone to his hidden weapon again. "You don''t understand what they''re capable of¡ª"


    "No, you don''t understand what I''m capable of," Jolthar cut him off, his jovial tone carrying an edge of steel. "Your mother is paying us a lot of money to keep you alive, which means I''m going to keep you alive, even if I currently want to strangle you myself.


    So shut up, stay still, and try not to seduce anyone else''s mother in the next few minutes. Think you can manage that?"


    As footsteps approached their table, Jolthar took another casual sip of his ale, his mind already racing through possible scenarios and solutions.


    He''d gotten them into this situation deliberately, yes, but that didn''t mean he wasn''t acutely aware of just how dangerous the next few minutes would be. The Blue Rose didn''t earn its fearsome reputation by being reasonable, after all.


    Still, as he watched the colour drain from Ron''s perfect face, Jolthar couldn''t help but add onest whisperedment: "You know, most people just write poetry when they''re in love. They don''t start sleeping their way through an entire family.


    Just something to consider for next time ¨C assuming we survive this one."


    The sound of clearing throats behind him made him smile.


    Time to see if his n would work, or if he''d just orchestrated the most borate suicide in recent memory.


    Either way, he had to admit ¨C it was going to make one hell of a story.


    The tavern door swung open, letting in a gust of evening air that made the oilmps flicker.


    The regr chatter died instantly as five women entered, their presencemanding attention without a word.


    Jolthar, seated in the corner with his back to the wall, immediately understood these were no ordinary travellers.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    At their head stood a woman who could only be Bn herself.


    At twenty-five, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who had earned her position through blood and steel rather than inheritance. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail that emphasized her sharp features, each strand neat despite the day''s humidity ¨C a small detail that spoke volumes about her self-discipline.


    She wore practical traveling clothes: fitted pants that allowed for easy movement and a half-sleeved blouse that revealed toned arms marked with old scars. Her figure was athletic rather than curvaceous, built forbat rather than court life.


    But it was her eyes that truly caught Jolthar''s attention ¨C amber-coloured and intense, they swept the room with predatory focus until they locked onto Ron, who had gone deathly pale at the women''s entrance.


    The hatred in that gaze could have melted steel.


    Jolthar rose smoothly from his seat, positioning himself between Bn''s group and Ron. "Good evening," he said, keeping his tone light but firm. "I''m Jolthar. Perhaps we could discuss this situation like reasonable people?"


    Bn''s response was topletely ignore him, her eyes still fixed on Ron. "You miserable, crawling worm," she spat, each word dripping with venom. "Did you think you could just run? That your promises were just words to be forgotten?"


    The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.


    Other patrons began quietly sliding toward the exits, recognizing the signs of imminent violence.


    Jolthar noticed Bn''spanions spreading out in a practiced formation, cutting off potential escape routes.


    She was in no position to talk as she continuously spat and cursed all she could. Jolthar just stood listening to her curses and wondered just how many more insults she coulde up with before someone intervened.

 Chapter 54 Daughter of the Blue Rose

    When Bn took another step forward, still acting as if Jolthar were invisible, he decided enough was enough.


    He released his carefully controlled aura, letting his true power flood the tavern.


    The effect was immediate and dramatic. sses rattled on tables. Candle mes bent sideways. Every person in the room, including Bn and her warriors, staggered slightly under the sudden pressure.


    That finally got her attention. Bn''s head snapped around to face him, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "Who are you, kid?" she demanded, really looking at him for the first time.


    The slight emphasis on ''kid'' carried both confusion and dismissal ¨C he was clearly younger than her, and that fact seemed to override the power he''d just demonstrated.


    "As I said," Jolthar replied patiently, "I''m Jolthar. And I''d really prefer to resolve this without violence. Whatever Ron did, surely there''s a better way to handle this than bloodshed in a public tavern?"


    Bn''sugh was sharp and without humour. "You came to defend this snake? What are you, sixteen? Seventeen? Go home, boy. This isn''t a game, and your little pressure trick won''t save you from real fighters."


    Jolthar sighed heavily. "It''s not that I''m afraid," he said, genuine regret in his voice. "I just wanted to avoid hitting women. It feels... ungentlemanly."


    That was exactly the wrong thing to say.


    Bn''s face flushed with rage, her hand dropping to the sword at her hip. "Ungentlemanly?" she snarled. "I''ll show you what happens to ''gentlemen'' who underestimate us." She nodded to one of herpanions. "Teach him some manners, Sara."


    The woman on Bn''s left ¨C tall, muscr, with close-cropped ck hair ¨C drew her sword and lunged forward in one fluid motion. It was a perfect attack, technically wless, exactly as she must have practiced thousands of times.


    Jolthar saw iting as if it were happening in slow motion.


    His recent fight with the orc had taught him much about his own capabilities, and his eyes tracked Sara''s movement with practiced ease.


    He stepped slightly to the left, letting her de whisper past his ear, then simply grabbed her sword arm and used her own momentum to send her flying over a nearby table.


    She crashed into a rack of bottles with a tremendous shattering of ss.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "Next?" Jolthar asked quietly.


    Bn''s eyes narrowed, and she gestured to two more of her warriors. They attacked in perfect coordination, one high, one low, their movements suggesting years of fighting together.


    Under normal circumstances, their teamwork would have been devastating.


    But Jolthar wasn''t normal.


    He flowed between their attacks like water, every movement precise and effective. The first woman''s sword found nothing but air where his head should have been. The second''s leg sweep hit empty space. Before either could recover, he''d tapped them each once ¨C light strikes that nevertheless sent them sprawling to opposite corners of the room.


    The fourth warrior attacked without waiting for orders,ing in with aplex series of feints and strikes that showed advanced training. Jolthar dealt with her just as efficiently, redirecting her attacks with almost casual ease before ending the exchange with a simple palm strike that left her gasping on the floor.


    Throughout the brief exchanges, Jolthar''s eyes never left Bn.


    He saw the subtle changes in her expression ¨C from dismissal to surprise to growing concern. She was clever enough to recognize that her warriors weren''t simply losing; they were beingpletely outssed by someone who wasn''t even fighting at full strength.


    "Impressive," she admitted finally, drawing her own sword. The de caught themplight, revealing subtle patterns in the steel that marked it as far superior to herpanions'' weapons. "But I''m not them."


    "No," Jolthar agreed, settling into a rxed stance. "You''re not. Last chance to talk this through?"


    Jolthar being a tier 4 swordsman wasn''t an issue for him. He was confident he could win against her if he used his voidwrath too.


    He could tell that Bn was tier 5, but he could tell that Bn had more refined mana around her. She was a magic swordsman, unlike him, who only had an aura.


    Bn''s response was a blur of motion. She was significantly faster than her warriors, her de weaving patterns that would have confused and overwhelmed most opponents. Her technique was excellent, showing years of dedicated training and realbat experience.


    But Jolthar''s eyes caught every movement, every subtle tell.


    His fight with the orc had pushed him to understand the level of fighting he could muster against an enemy. He was able to fully utilise the abilities that he had trained all those years.


    Gauging her level and aura, Jolthar knew he had to act fast and go all out from the get-go.


    The courtyard erupted in deadly grace as Bn rose into the air.


    Her sword art form¡ªthe seven streams of cherry blossoms¡ªwas a profound sword technique of the Blue Rose and was down only to the descendants.


    Seven streams of cherry blossoms - each a different hue - spiraled around her like cosmic rings. "You face the Seventh de of the Blue Rose, country boy," she sneered. "Let''s see how your provincial sword arts fare against the Seven-streamed art!"


    Jolthar stood his ground, his weathered longsword held in a low guard. Though only a Tier 4 swordsman, the void-touched energies that coursed through his de had earned him victory against a supposedly superior foe before.


    "Fancy petals won''t save you, mydy."


    A massive cherry blossom construct, sharp as razors and cold as winter frost, materialized above Bn. "Ice Edge Blossom!" shemanded, sending the crystalline formation hurtling toward Jolthar with devastating force.


    The crowd had already cleared the space around them and watched in awe.


    The woman who fell by Jolthar gathered behind Bn, a couple of meters away.


    Ron was hiding behind the counter with others; the tavern seemed like it wouldn''t hold out much longer. It was just a run-down tavern and if the fight continued like that, the whole area will be destroyed.

 Chapter 55 Defeat

    Such mastery of the seven-streamed sword technique was legendary, a sign of her status as a Tier 5 practitioner. The very air seemed to freeze in the construct''s wake.


    But Jolthar''s eyes gleamed with an inner darkness. As the ice de descended, tendrils of shadow began to seep from his sword.


    "Void Wrath," he whispered and struck.


    The collision shook the tavern.


    Where de met blossom, reality itself seemed to waver. Jolthar''s sword, wreathed in writhing shadows, had somehow caught the massive ice construct. Cracks began spreading through the crystalline petals.


    "Impossible!" Bn''sposure cracked for the first time. "No Tier 4 swordsman could¡ª"


    "I am more than mere tiers," Jolthar responded, his voice eerily calm as the void energies intensified. With a final surge of power, his sword shattered her ice construct, sending crystalline shards across the tavern.


    Bn''s eyes narrowed. "Who are you really?" Her eyes scanned his features his long sword, his silver hair, and no matter how she looked, he was just a boy, not more than 18. How could he possibly be able to counter her attack?


    She began weavingplex patterns with her sword, and the remaining colours of her technique zed to life. Her movements were graceful, almost like a dance as she moved with her sword swinging carefully. And it just wasn''t for show.


    The air was filled with thousands of razor petals, each stream a different deadly hue. They moved like living things, forming hundreds of snakes. The disy was breathtaking - and lethal.


    But Jolthar had already begun moving. His sword left trails of darkness as he wove through the assault, the void energies consuming any petals that came too close. Each sh of steel against energy sent dark sparks cascading through the air.


    "Your technique is beautiful," he acknowledged, even as he advanced. "But beauty alone isn''t enough." The void energies around his de intensified, forming a spiralling wheel of shadow that began to consume the very light around it.


    Bn''s eyes widened as she felt the pressure of his power.


    Even as she poured more mana into her assault, she could see the petals being drawn into that lightless maelstrom.


    "No!" she snarled, channelling everything she had into one final attack. The remaining cherry blossoms condensed into a massive spear of pure energy, its tip aimed at Jolthar''s heart. "Die!"


    But Jolthar was ready.


    As the spear descended, he raised his sword high, void energies swirling into a vortex around the de. "Void Wrath: Consuming Dark!"


    The two techniques met in an explosion of light and shadow.


    For a moment, the tavern was blind withpeting energies. Then, slowly, the darkness began to win. The shear pressure from the collision started to impact the tavern, and it no longer stood their attacks; it was starting to copse, and all the people inside had already escaped and were now watching from a distance.


    The women of the Blue Rose werepletely shocked, seeing a mere kid was able to overpower Bn.


    While Jolthar was more than an ordinary swordsman, Bn''s strengthy in her mastery of mana, which she harnessed not only for spells but also in her swordsmanship as a magic swordsman. This set her apart from those who wielded aura, creating a stark contrast in their fighting styles. As a magic swordsman, Bn held the advantage of weaving spells into her attacks, addingyers of versatility and power that pure swordsmen couldn''t match.


    But here, Bn struggled to understand why she couldn''t overpower Jolthar¡ªa swordsman technically a tier below her and, to add insult to injury, a mere kid a few years her junior. She prided herself on hermand over mana, blending magic and swordsmanship in a way few could rival. Yet, despite her advantage, Jolthar held his ground with unnerving ease, deflecting her strikes with a skill that defied his rank and age.


    Bn could only watch in dismay as her ultimate technique was devoured piece by piece, the void energies crawling up the energy spear like hungry shadows until they reached her position.


    But she hadn''t given up; her pride as the woman of blue rose wouldn''t let her as she started performing all the seven forms of her technique, continuously raining down her attacks on Jolthar.


    The impact zone had expanded, with her attacks now reaching farther and spreading wider with each strike.


    The void-wreathed wheel of darkness grewrger in the sky above Jolthar, casting otherworldly shadows across the tavern of Riverbank City. Bn''s eyes widened as she felt its overwhelming presence¡ªa hunger that seemed to devour the very light around it.


    "Impossible," she whispered, watching her cherry blossoms being drawn into the darkness.


    But Jolthar stood unmoved, his steel-grey eyes reflecting the spiralling shadows. "Your technique is really powerful, but it doesn''t work here." The void wheel pulsed with deadly intent, growingrger with each passing moment.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Bn wasn''t finished.


    Despite the growing dread in her heart, she activated her final defence¡ªthe legendary Azure Shield of the Blue Rose, a mystical barrier that had protected the Seraglio''s leaders for generations.


    The air shimmered asyers of translucent blue energy formed around her.


    "You''re not the first to hide behind barriers," Jolthar said coldly and released his technique.


    The void wheel descended like an avnche of shadow. Where it touched Bn''s shields, cracks appeared in reality itself. One by one, her defensiveyers shattered, each breaking faster than thest. The very air seemed to scream as void energy ate through her protections.


    Bn poured all her mana into her barrier, trying to withstand his attack.


    The wheel struck.


    The explosion sent ripples of darkness across the slum area.


    Bn plummeted from the sky like a fallen star, crashing into the cobblestones below.


    There was now arge audience who had gathered to watch his defeat; almost all of the city now gathered far from the scene, murmuring, mostly about the mysterious young man who defeated the mighty daughter of Blue Rose. It would certainly send a ripple through thends of the continent.


    Ron, who was watching from afar, with widened eyes. Just who was this young man that his mother sent?


    As Jolthar approached the crater, a figure blurred into existence between them - an older woman in borate blue robes, her silver hair whipping in the wind.


    Dame Cerulean, the Seraglio''s Master of Arms.


    "You dare!" she snarled, power radiating from her form.


    But before the situation could escte further, another presence made itself known. Standing at Cerulean''s side was a tall woman with striking golden eyes¡ªLysandra.

 Chapter 56 Gods and mortals

    High above the mortal realm, where golden clouds formed eternal walkways and the air shimmered with divine power, stood a balcony unlike any other. Carved from living starlight and morning dew, it jutted out from the Pce of Waters, Akurnni''s residence.


    The deity of blue seas stood there, his robust frame draped in robes that seemed woven from ocean waves themselves.


    Beside him lounged Ivyona, her form constantly shifting between sunrise colours as she sipped wine from a crystal ss.


    "Yourtest acquisition is quite fascinating," Ivyona mused, referring to the ancient pearl Akurnni had retrieved from the Abyssal ins. "Though I must say, turning it into a paperweight seems rather... mundane."


    Akurnni was about to defend his decorative choices when something caught his attention. His expression shifted, eyes focusing on the mortal realm far below.


    "What is it?" Ivyona asked, noting the sudden tension in his shoulders.


    "Bn," he muttered, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "My daughter is inbat."


    Ivyona rose gracefully, moving to the balcony''s edge. Through the divine mists, they could see the battle unfolding in Riverbank City¡ªa dramatic disy of cherry blossoms and void energy that was decidedly not going in Bn''s favour.


    "Ah," Ivyona said, hiding a smile behind her ss. "It seems your little rose has found herself a thorn."


    Akurnni''s jaw clenched as he watched Jolthar''s void-wreathed de tear through his daughter''s legendary technique. "This is no mere mortal swordsman. The void doesn''t bend to just anyone''s will."


    "Indeed." Ivyona''s eyes narrowed as she studied Jolthar. There was something about him, a faint resonance that tickled at her divine senses. A hint of... but no, that was impossible. Unless...


    "I should alert Raayani," Akurnni decided.


    "Are you sure that''s wise?" Ivyona questioned, but Akurnni had already sent a message to Raayani, Bn''s mother.


    "I''m not going there myself; I''m just warning her mother, that''s all," he replied, his gaze returning to the sprawling city below.


    She listened, but her focus was on Jolthar. Something about him caught her eye¡ªa faint aura, hints of divine power glimmering around him. Akurnni seemed oblivious to it, his attention elsewhere.


    A subtle smile yed on her lips as she observed the unfolding drama in the mortal realm, intrigued by the unforeseen twists fate had woven into their lives.


    -


    The air crystallized first. That''s how it always begins when a powerful woman of Blue Rose descends.


    A single white swan pierced through the clouds, its wings trailing stardust, and as it touched the rubble stones, reality itself seemed to hold its breath.


    As the swannded with delicate grace, a woman descended from the top of the swan, where a small carriage was present.


    Jolthar had heard tales of the Blue Rose Matriarch''s beauty, but no bard''s song had done her justice. Her hair was a living me, each strand a different shade of sunset, flowing like liquid copper in an impossible breeze. Her form was a sculptor''s fever dream¡ªcurves that seemed to follow the sacred geometry of creation itself, wrapped in robes that appeared woven from twilight and dawn. But it was her eyes that truly caught him¡ªpools of liquid gold that held entire universes in their depths.


    For a heartbeat, Jolthar understood exactly why Ron, that lucky bastard, had risked death and damnation for one night with her. A mere nce from her would send men and women alike into a trance, willing to do anything for just a moment of her attention.


    Then his warrior''s instincts screamed a warning.


    The beauty before him had transformed into something terrible.


    Rage carved lines of divine fury across her perfect features, and the air began to thicken with power. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of mountains:


    "YOU DARE HARM MY DAUGHTER?!"


    The pressure hit like a massive tidal wave.


    Jolthar felt reality itself trying to crush him, as if he were being pushed into the deepest part of oceans, which had no end. His knees buckled despite his iron will, forcing him into a crouch.


    Every breath was a battle, every heartbeat a war against the overwhelming her presence.


    His void-touched powers responded instinctively, darkness seeping from his pores as the Void Wrath tried to carve out a space for him to exist. But it was like trying to hold back an avnche with a paper fan. The void energy could only slightly dampen the crushing pressure, turning what would have been instant death into mere excruciating agony.


    Through gritted teeth, Jolthar managed to look up at Raayani.


    She was floating now, her form haloed by pure power, the air around her shimmering with heat distortions. This was what it meant to face a being beyond the tier system¡ªa genuine power entity whose very presence could rewrite thews of nature.


    Just as ck spots began dancing in Jolthar''s vision, a sound split the heavens - a thunderp so powerful it seemed to crack the sky itself. The crushing pressure vanished as if it had never existed, leaving Jolthar gasping for air.


    In the ringing silence that followed, boots hit the stones with mechanical precision.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Five figures in matte ck armour materialized from shadows that shouldn''t have existed in the middle of the day. Their armour seemed to drink in the light, covered in runes that hurt the eyes if you looked at them too long. Each wore a helm shaped like a raven''s skull, but it was their leader who drew all attention.


    Lady Maena stepped forward, her own midnight-ck armour decorated with silver patterns that moved of their own ord.


    Unlike her soldiers, she wore no helm, letting everyone see her face¡ªsharp features set in an expression of cold amusement, her silver ck hair fluttered at the back of her head.


    "Now, now, Lady Raayani," Maena''s voice carried the chill of deep space. "Let''s not get carried away."


    The tension in Riverbank City''s courtyard crystallized as Maena stepped forward, her presence causing the very air to thicken with unspoken power.


    She moved and positioned herself near Jolthar with casual precision.


    Raayani''s eyes narrowed, recognition flickering across her features. "Maena Kaezr. Why are you interfering in my matters?"

 Chapter 57 The name Kaezhlar

    A dangerous smile yed across Maena''s lips, her silver-ck hair catching the dying light. "That was dangerous; if I had been a littlete, my nephew would have died." Her words carried a subtle warning, wrapped in velvet courtesy.


    "Nephew?" The word fell from Raayani''s lips like a stone into still water.


    Maena''s smile widened marginally as she gestured to Jolthar. "Meet my nephew, Jolthar Kaezr."


    The name hit the silent area like a thunderbolt.


    In the shadows, Ron, who had been watching them, was horrified.


    Bn, still weak from her injuries but now propped up against a pir, felt her breath catch.


    Kaezr.


    The name carried weight that even deities respected.


    The Kaezr family didn''t rule kingdoms ormand armies. They did something far more dangerous¡ªthey collected secrets and debts from beings both mortal and divine.


    "What!" The whisper rippled through the gathered people and the women of Blue Rose, their perfect discipline cracking for just a moment.


    Raayani''s face remained carefully neutral, then realization dawned on her face. "So you were the ones who came for that toy." The ''toy'' was Ron she talked about. Upon hearing that he was being hunted by Blue Rose, no one dared to intervene.


    Only Kaezr would dare toe to theirnds so boldly.


    She had been briefed by her women while rushing here, warning about an unknown, powerful figure challenging her daughter in her territory. She was alerted by Akurnni himself. She was surprised to hear from him after a long time.


    Raayani and Akurnni once shared a deep, passionate connection. He had been her one true love, and she bore his child, believing for a time that their bond was unbreakable. Yet, when he departed, leaving her to face the emptiness alone, her heart grew colder. Raayani returned to her old ways, drawing in different men as fleetingforts, each one a temporary balm for her lingering ache. They became mere ythings to her, discarded once she''d had her fill. Despite her past habits, she had been devoted to Akurnni alone during their time together, a rarity for someone with her appetite for excitement.


    Years before Akurnni, Raayani had set her sights on the patriarch of Kaezr, renowned as the fiercest swordsman of his time. She sought him out, desiring a child with his strength and stature.


    Yet her approach was too brazen, and the fierce warrior dismissed her advances, leaving Raayani to abandon the idea altogether.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Within the society of Blue Rose, such liaisons were not umon.


    The women often sought powerful men to bear strong children. If a daughter was born, she would be brought back to the Blue Rose''s seraglio, trained and raised as a warrior.


    Sons, however, were left with their fathers, to be moulded by the paths of their own lineage. This tradition reinforced the ranks of Blue Rose while honouring the strength of their line.


    But her pride wasn''t so easily swayed, even by infamous names. Her eyes hardened. "That doesn''t change anything. I will kill him here."


    The temperature in the area dropped several degrees as Maena''s smile turned razor-sharp.


    "You can. Not even I can stop you." She paused, letting the words hang in the air before continuing. "But remember, my brother... he won''t be happy with what you will do.


    You know very well, he isn''t a man of forgiveness when ites to family."


    The unspoken name seemed to darken the very air ¨C Caelum Kaezr, Patriarch of the family.


    Raayani knew him personally and had crossed swords with him in the past. The scars from that encounter, both physical and otherwise, still lingered.


    Memory flickered behind her eyes...


    Twenty years ago, in the Gardens of Twilight. Steel shing against steel. Caelum, younger then but no less dangerous, his de moving like liquid shadow. "The difference between us, Raayani," he had said, blood dripping from a cut above his eye, "is that you fight for pride. I fight for family." The scar she still carried from that day ached at the memory.


    The present moment stretched taut as spider silk as Raayani weighed her options.


    The boy had defeated Bn fairly, showed mercy, and even offered diplomatic solutions. Now his name exined his unusual abilities¡ªthe Kaezrs were known to dabble in powers that deities themselves feared to touch.


    Jolthar stood quietly through this exchange, his posture rxed but ready. The void energy still whispered around him, but there was something else now ¨C a familiar shadow in his stance that spoke of his bloodline.


    The watching crowd had retreated even further, feeling the weight of her fury in the air.


    "Still, you dared to stand against my Blue Rose," Raayani''s voice carried the weight of storms, "and I can''t let you go away like this. I don''t care from what n you are." Her hands began to glow with power, the very stones on the ground trembling beneath her feet.


    But before she could act, Bn''s voice cut through the tension. "Mother, no." She pushed herself to her knees. "Don''t kill him."


    Raayani paused, surprised by her daughter''s intervention. "Bn?"


    "Today, I lost to him." Bn''s voice was tight with suppressed emotion, but her eyes zed with newfound determination. "They have all witnessed my defeat, and I can''t live with such shame." She raised her head, meeting Jolthar''s calm gaze with fierce intensity. "One day, I will kill him myself. Until then, let him leave."


    The gathered Blue Rose women exchanged nces. Never had they heard such raw conviction in their young mistress''s voice. Gone was the entitled arrogance, reced by something harder, more focused.


    Raayani stood beside her daughter, studying her face.


    She saw in Bn''s eyes not just wounded pride but genuine growth - the first real understanding that power must be earned, not merely imed.


    A slight smile curved on her lips as she turned back to Jolthar. "Well, young Jolthar," she said, her tone lighter but still carrying an edge of warning, "today is your lucky day. So scram before I change my mind."


    Jolthar just stared at her; she was letting him go? The thought that he was at the mercy of someone made him feel frutrated, to say. He didn''t want that feeling.


    And it all happened because of power. Having the power to crush a n or a kingdom was the real power. And Jolthar wanted it.


    "Might I ask one thing?" At Raayani''s raised eyebrow, he continued, "Can you ask your daughter to stop pursuing Ron?"


    "Ron?" Bn spat the name like a curse, her eyes never leaving Jolthar. "I don''t care about that pampered noble anymore. All I want..." her hand clenched into a fist, "is to kill you."


    Raayani waved them all away dismissively, her gesture clearly ending the confrontation.


    The gathered crowd began to disperse, their whispers already spreading the tale of what they''d witnessed.


    Maena let out a heavy sigh.


    In the sudden quiet, Jolthar turned to her. "You didn''t have to intervene."


    "Oh? And how exactly were you nning to handle a reaper out for your blood?"


    "I had a n."


    "Indeed, big man, indeed." Maena sighed.

 Chapter 58 Return to Barony

    As Raayani was flying back with her injured daughter, she found herself contemting the strange young man who had sparked such a change in Bn. For years, she had tried to teach her daughter the true meaning of strength, of dedication, of earning one''s power rather than simply wielding it.


    And now this young swordsman, in a single battle, had aplished what years of maternal guidance could not. She nced at Bn, who was staring at the distant horizon with, lost in thought.


    -


    "You''re growing soft, brother," Ivyona remarked beside him, her peacock-feathered gown shimmering in the eternal light of Illumarhen. "I never thought I''d see the day when the mighty sealord would stand idle while mortals challenged his offspring."


    Akurnni''sugh rumbled like distant thunder. "The ancientws bind us all. Even I must watch from afar as she forges her own path." His eyes never left the scene below, where his daughter was.


    "Besides, her determination... it reminds me of someone I once knew."


    "Of yourself, perhaps?" Ivyona''s knowing smile carried centuries of shared history. "Before the weight of godhood settled on your shoulders?"


    Their quiet moment was interrupted by the arrival of other gods.


    Inadrys entered the balcony, and behind him were others, grouped in small numbers, talking, as if it were a feast.


    He walked out with a gold porcin ss of his own.


    Meeraia sauntered in soon after, her perfect features arranged in an expression of careful boredom¡ªthough her eyes sparkled with interest at the mortalbat below.


    "Mortals and their petty squabbles," Edor spat. He followed her behind. His armour was permanently stained with the wars of centuries. "They''re hardly worth watching."


    They both were the children of Inadrys, but Edor was born to Ivyona, while Meeraia was mothered by a deity named Ilena, a serpend deity.


    "Oh, I disagree," Meeraia purred, her attention fixed on Jolthar. "Some of them can be quite... entertaining."


    Atannu arrivedst, his wings folded tight against his back. His eyes darted repeatedly to Ivyona, lingering on the curve of her neck, the way her dark hair caught the light.


    But Inadrys''s presence was an insurmountable barrier, his lightning-filled gaze a constant reminder of the consequences should his arrows ever point in her direction.


    Still, the love deity couldn''t help but dream of the day when opportunity might present itself.


    "The girl fights well," Inadrys observed, his voice carrying the weight of judgement. "She does credit to your bloodline, brother."


    Akurnni nodded.


    The ancientws prevented interference, but they said nothing about a father''s worry.


    ***


    The Minds stretched before them like a tapestry of autumn colours, rolling hills dressed in amber and russet beneath a pearl-grey sky.


    Lady Maena''s unit moved with practiced efficiency along the old trade road, their horses'' hooves raising small clouds of dust with each step.


    At the centre of their formation rode Ron. His shoulders hunched beneath his travel cloak, eyes fixed on his horse''s mane as if it held the answers to how his life had unravelled so spectacrly.


    "You know," Jolthar''s voice cut through the heavy silence, his mount falling into step beside Ron''s, "if you furrow your brow any harder, it might stick that way permanently. Though I suppose that would give you a distinguished look¡ªvery dramatic, very ''tortured nobleman.''" His eyes sparkled with mischief despite the gravity of their mission.


    When Ron didn''t respond, Jolthar continued, undeterred. "Come now; surely you can appreciate the irony? The same family that you left is the only one you have now. The gods do love their little jokes." He paused,stroking his chin.


    "Though I must admit, their timing could use some work."


    "Jolthar." Lady Maena''s voice carried a warning note, though there was a hint of amusement in her steel-grey eyes. She guided her stallion closer to them, her armour catching the afternoon light. "Your wit might be better appreciated once we''ve reached Barony."


    "Mydy!" Jolthar pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence. "Are you suggesting my attempts to lift our young friend''s spirits are ill-timed? I''m wounded. Truly wounded."n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "I''ve seen you wounded, Jolthar," Maena replied dryly. "It involves far more cursing and considerably less theatrical hand-gesturing." She turned her attention to Ron, her expression softening slightly. "We''re about two hours from Barony''s gates. Your mother awaits."


    At the mention of his mother, Ron seemed to sink even further into himself. The mention of home¡ªa ce he''d fled from in his infatuation with Bn''s heir¡ªnow felt like a sword thrust between his ribs.


    "I must admit," Jolthar said, his tone bing more genuine, "you really hid well even though you were in their territory and shamelessly asking for help from your mother."


    As they crested the final hill, Barony spread before them, its stone walls warm and golden in thete afternoon sun. The sight of home, once soforting, now made Ron''s stomach clench.


    The guards at the gate recognised him immediately, their eyes widening before they snapped to attention, sending runners ahead to announce their arrival.


    The courtyard was already filled when they rode in. Servants, guards, and members of the household gathered in a loose semicircle, and at their centre stood Baroness Cleora, Ron''s mother. She wore the deep blues of their house, her silver-streaked hair arranged in the intricate style of the Mind nobility. Her face was a careful mask, revealing nothing of her thoughts as she watched her son''s return.


    Beside her stood Ron''s sister, Nora, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Where their mother''s expression was controlled, Nora''s face showed everything ¨C anger, hurt, disappointment, and beneath it all, a fierce love that made Ron''s shame burn even hotter.


    As he dismounted, Ron couldn''t bring himself to meet their eyes. He stared at the cobblestones instead, counting the spaces between them as footsteps approached. He expected his mother''s measured stride, but instead, it was Nora who reached him first.


    The p echoed across the courtyard.


    "You fool," Nora whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a fierce embrace. "You absolute fool." She released him just as quickly, taking his arm in a grip that brooked no argument. "Come. You need to clean up before Mother sees you properly."


    As Nora led him away, Ron caught a glimpse of Jolthar trying ¨C and failing ¨C to suppress a grin. "Family reunions," the warrior murmured to no one in particr. "Always so entertaining."


    The Baroness waited until her children had disappeared inside before approaching Lady Maena and Jolthar. "Lady Maena," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her position, "Barony is in your debt. Please allow us to offer you proper hospitality. I''ve had the kitchens prepare a banquet in your honour."

 Chapter 59 Another traveller

    The evening banquet was a carefully orchestrated affair, as all things were under Baroness Cleora''s direction. The great hall zed with candlelight, warming the tapestries that lined the walls. The long tables groaned under the weight of Barony''s finest dishes¡ªroasted pheasant with herbs from the castle gardens, fresh bread still warm from the ovens, wines from the family''s private cers.


    Ron sat at his mother''s right hand, freshly bathed and dressed in house colours, though his eyes rarely left his te. Sitting across from him, Nora alternated between ring at her brother and engaging in pointed conversation with Lady Maena about the current political climate in the eastern provinces.


    Jolthar, for his part, seemed determined to charm every servant and noble within earshot. His stories ¨C carefully edited to remove the more colourful details¡ªentertained his end of the table throughout the meal. "And there I was," he was saying, gesturing with a piece of bread, "convinced that the merchant was hiding something in his cargo. Turns out, the man was smuggling nothing more dangerous than love letters to his mistress in the capital. Though, considering the content of some of those letters, perhaps they were more dangerous than I initially thought." His audienceughed appreciatively, and even the Baroness''s lips twitched slightly.


    As the evening drew to a close and the guests began to retire, Baroness Cleora caught Jolthar''s eye and made a subtle gesture toward her private study. He followed her there, noting the fine furniture and the wall of books that spoke of both wealth and schrship.


    "Young knight," she said once the door was closed, "I would speak inly with you."


    "My favourite way to be spoken to, mydy," Jolthar replied, though his usual levity was tempered by respect.


    "When I sent word seeking help in retrieving my son, I expectedpetence. What you and Lady Maena demonstrated was excellence." She moved to a cab and removed a small wooden box. "Ron is... young. Foolish in the way that only the young can be. But he is my son, and you have returned him to me before the Blue Rose could dosting damage to his reputation ¨C or worse."


    She opened the box, revealing a si ring set with a deep blue stone. "This has been in our family for generations. It marks its wearer as a friend of House Arvain and grants certain... privileges within our territories." She held it out to him. "I would have you wear it."


    Jolthar looked at the ring, then at the Baroness, his usual smile reced by genuine surprise. "Mydy, this is too generous."


    "It is precisely generous enough," she corrected him. "You returned my son to me. You treated his shame with humour rather than contempt. And..." she smiled slightly, "you managed to make Noraugh at dinner, something I haven''t seen since this whole affair began. Take the ring, Jolthar. Consider it a mother''s gratitude."


    Jolthar epted the ring with a formal bow, for once at a loss for a clever remark. When he straightened, however, his familiar grin had returned. "I don''t suppose this means I''m allowed to raid your wine cers whenever I''m in the area?"


    The Baroness''sugh was unexpected and warm. "Don''t press your luck, warrior. Even my gratitude has limits."


    As Jolthar left the study, the ring weighingfortably on his finger, he could hear the distant sound of voices from the family''s private quarters ¨C Nora''s sharp tones, Ron''s quieter responses, and beneath them both, the steady, measured voice of their mother.


    Family, he reflected, was aplicated thing. But then again, in his experience, the most valuable things usually were.


    The corridors of Barony Castle wound like veins through stone and memory.


    Jolthar walked along the path. His eyes scanned the shadowed hallways, searching for a particr figure he had glimpsed earlier¡ªNora.


    He found her in a small alcove near the library, away from the bustling banquet hall. Her current posture ¨C back straight, fingers tracing the spine of an old book ¨C struck him immediately. There was something... different about her.


    Something that resonated with his own inexplicable sense of discement. Something not a fifteen-year-old young girl would do.


    "Interesting reading?" Jolthar approached his voice casual but with an undercurrent of calction.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Nora looked up, her eyes sharp and far too knowing for someone her age. At barely fifteen, she carried herself with a maturity that spoke of experiences beyond her years. "History," she replied, holding up the tome. "Though I find most historical ounts somewhat...cking in nuance."


    He recognized the opening. A perfect opportunity.


    "Lacking how?" Jolthar leaned against the wall, positioning himself to block any casual eavesdropping. "Most people are content with the surface narrative."


    A slight smile yed on Nora''s lips. "Surface narratives are for people who haven''t seen howplicated things can truly be. Like how history books never capture the realplexity of human motivation."


    Jolthar''s pulse quickened. The phrasing, the cadence ¨C it was too deliberate. Too... modern.


    "You sound like you''ve studied something beyond local histories," he probed carefully. "Perhaps... contemporary analytical methods?"


    Nora''s eyebrow arched.


    Just a fraction. But it was enough.


    "Contemporary?" she repeated, testing the word. "Interesting choice."


    Jolthar decided to drop a subtle hint. "Ever heard the phrase ''paradigm shift''?" He watched her reaction carefully.


    The briefest sh of recognition crossed her eyes. Not surprise, not confusion ¨C recognition. A knowing that went beyond this world, this time.


    "Interesting terminology for a warrior," Nora responded neutrally. But her fingers had stopped tracing the book''s spine. She was fully engaged now.


    Jolthar leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some warriors read more than just battle maps."


    "And some readers understand more than just words on a page," she countered.


    The dance was delicate. Neither wanting to be too direct, both testing the waters.


    "You know," Jolthar said casually, "I once heard a fascinating theory about how personal perspectives shape historical narratives. Almost like... memories from another context entirely."


    Nora''s breath caught. Barely perceptible. But he saw it.


    "Another context?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.


    "Mmm." Jolthar allowed himself a knowing smile. "Like remembering something that hasn''t happened yet. Or perhaps... somewhere else entirely."


    She studied him then, not with the eyes of a fifteen-year-old, but with the measured gaze of someone who had lived multiple lifetimes.


    "You''re suggesting something quite extraordinary," Nora said finally. "That memories might transcend... traditional boundaries?"


    "Precisely," Jolthar said. "Imagine remembering technologies that don''t exist. Concepts that are generations ahead of current understanding."


    Nora''s fingers closed the history book. "Likeputers?" she asked, so softly it was almost a breath.

 Chapter 60 Dont come near my mother!

    The word hung between them. Confirmation. Proof.


    Another soul. Another traveller. "Indeed," he whispered. "Someone who remembers silicon circuits. Digitalworks. Globalmunication."


    "Wait, what did you say?" Nora got up, startled.


    "You heard me right. You are a reincarned soul, aren''t you?"


    Realisation dawned on her face and was soon reced by a horror. She quickly put on her guard, and she pulled out a dagger and pointed at him, "What are you talking about?"


    "Come on, don''t be like that."


    "And you?" Nora''s eyes were intense now. "Where did you...e from?"


    "From the states. Early twenty-first century," Jolthar disclosed. "You?"


    "Middle east. Simr timeframe," she responded.


    "You don''t need to be so afraid of me, you know. I have known for a while, but I wanted to confirm after I talked to you."


    Nora put down her dagger, and she looked at Jolthar with a contemted look. She still wasn''t sure about him, but she asked, "How many years had it been?"


    "Enough to settle myself here," Jolthar replied casually.


    "But how did you know?" She was still confused about how she found out about her.


    "Well, you can say it''s a special talent given to me."


    Nora looked sceptical. "How did you end up in this world?"


    "We will talk about those partster if we trust each other enough."


    "But first," Jolthar said, his tone shifting. "Have any... entities contacted you? Gods, spirits, divine beings making specific requests or offering strange guidance?"


    Nora''s reaction was immediate. Her eyes flickered ¨C not with fear but with aplex mix of caution and intrigue. "Why do you ask?"


    "Call it professional curiosity," Jolthar said. "Let''s just say I''ve had some... interesting interactions recently."


    "No."


    "Not even when you first arrived here?"


    "No."


    Jolthar fell into thought. He wasn''t sure if she was lying, and it was only their first meeting. So he can''t truly say. And from what he had seen so far, she wasn''t a simple girl.


    Then she asked him a question that made him frown: "Did you help us because you wanted something from the baroness?"


    Jolthar leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed as Nora''s words echoed in his ears.


    "What? Why would you think so?" he asked, genuinely amused.


    She gave him a nk, almost unnerving stare. "I can just tell by the way you look at her."


    Her deadpan delivery left him speechless for a moment, but then Jolthar broke into a grin, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I guess you''re not wrong. Who wouldn''t admire a woman like her?"


    The instant the words left his mouth, Nora''s expression shifted from neutral to sharp indignation. Her brows furrowed, and she stood abruptly, pointing an usatory finger at him. "Why are you smiling like that? I knew it! You''re probably some... some kind of otaku!"


    The sheer randomness of her statement threw Jolthar off bnce. "Wait¡ªwhat? An otaku? Where did that evene from?"


    "You must''ve spent all your life holed up in some dingy room, watching anime or whatever it is you reincarnated types do!" she dered with fiery indignation, her arms iling for emphasis.


    He blinked, processing her words. Then he smirked, unable to hide his amusement. "And how do you know what an otaku is, huh? Did you read about them in one of your fancy, otherworldly books?"


    Her face turned a shade redder, and she huffed. "That''s not the point! Whatever I know is none of your business. What matters is, you''re forbidden¡ªabsolutely forbidden¡ªfrom even thinking about my mother in that way!"


    Jolthar raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright! No need to get your feathers all ruffled, kid. I get it¡ªoff-limits. I promise I''ll keep my admiration strictly professional."


    Nora narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn''t press further. "Good. Just remember, if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I''ll kill you myself."


    With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off, her indignation trailing behind her like a storm cloud.


    Jolthar watched her retreating figure, shaking his head with a chuckle.


    ***


    Jolthar made his way back through the dimly lit hallways, his boots clicking faintly against the cold stone floor.


    The faint hum of distant music reached his ears as he ascended the steps to his quarters. The melodies, slow and haunting, carried a seductive allure that seemed to echo through the walls.


    He frowned, curious about the source.


    Torchlight flickered against weathered granite walls, casting elongated shadows that danced and wavered with each step he took.


    Looking in the direction of the source, he noticed a faint golden light spilling from the gap between the doors. Involuntarily, he moved towards the door.


    Through the narrow opening, a scene unfolded that seemed to exist in an entirely different world.


    The room was a study in decadence and sensuality. Soft, undting music drifted through the air - a melody that seemed to float between reality and dream, yed by unseen musicians. Rich tapestries in deep crimson and burnished gold covered the walls, their intricate patterns telling stories of forgotten conquests and ancient desires.


    At the centre of this opulent tableauy the Baroness.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    She reclined on a massive plush mattress, its surface covered in silk and velvet of the most luxurious textures.


    Around her, like living sculptures, were women - some draped across the mattress, others positioned in artful poses that seemed more like a living painting than mere human arrangement.


    Their bodies were a canvas of pale skin, some adorned with delicate jewellery that caught the soft candlelight, otherspletely bare.


    The Baroness herself was a vision of predatory elegance. Unlike herpanions, she was partially dressed - a translucent silk robe that revealed more than it concealed, clinging to her body like a second skin. A goblet of deep red wine dangled from her elegant fingers, the liquid within moving with each subtle movement of her wrist.


    Her eyes - oh, her eyes. They were the first thing that truly captured Jolthar''s attention. Not merely looking, but piercing. Dark. Knowing. They seemed to hold entire universes of secrets, of potential violence and seduction.

 Chapter 61 An Alluring beauty

    Suddenly, as if sensing his presence, she turned her head and locked eyes with him.


    Jolthar froze.


    For a moment, the room seemed to be still, the music a distant echopared to the intensity of her gaze. A slow, sly smile curled her lips, and she raised her goblet slightly, as if in toast.


    "Jolthar," she called out, her voice low and silky,ced with amusement. "I see you''ve decided to grace me with your presence."


    Caught, Jolthar stepped hesitantly into view, his usual bravado faltering under her piercing gaze. She leaned forward slightly, her posture casual yet predatory.


    "Tell me," she began, her voice teasing, "did youe to gawk at the sights, or..." She trailed off, her smile widening as she took another sip of her wine. "...perhaps you''vee to join me?"


    Jolthar''s throat went dry, but he forced a smirk onto his face, masking the turmoil inside. "I was just passing by. Didn''t mean to intrude."


    Herugh was soft, almost musical. "Intrude? Oh, darling, you don''t intrude when you''re invited." She gestured toward the mattress with a casual flick of her wrist. "Come, sit. Or... lie down, if you''d prefer."


    He hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the situation, but before he could respond, she chuckled again and waved dismissively. "Oh, another time perhaps. Tonight, I have no room for strays."


    Her words were a taunt, but Jolthar caught the subtle challenge in her tone. She was testing him, watching his every reaction.


    "Take him to his room," shemanded one of the nearby servants, her attention already drifting away.


    The servant stepped forward, but Jolthar held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.


    "Don''t bother," Jolthar said, his voice steady, though his heart was racing. "I can find my own way."


    Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out, his back straight and his head high. He could feel her gaze lingering on him as he walked away, but he didn''t dare look back.


    Once he was safely out of sight, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders rxing. The encounter left him rattled, but he couldn''t deny the strange pull she had over him. Her aura was maic, dangerous, and he knew she was far more than she seemed.


    He reached his room and closed the door behind him.


    ***


    The Sandorme Estate, a sprawling estate nestled amidst rolling green hills, exuded the quiet dignity of the Kaezr n.


    In the chambers of Lorryll Kaezr, the eldest son of the n, his wife Liliana sat on the veranda, her delicate features illuminated by the soft light of the evening sun.


    The veranda overlooked a lush garden, meticulously maintained by the estate''s many groundskeepers.


    Liliana''s dark hair was tied back in an intricate braid, strands of silver jewellery interwoven within it, glinting faintly in the fading light. Her emerald green dress, embroidered with gold thread, shimmered as she shifted slightly on the cushioned bench.


    Behind her stood Sey, her ever-faithful maid-in-waiting, a petite woman with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Sey''s hands trembled slightly as she clutched a letter, its parchment sealed with the unmistakable sigil of the Naemarys main house¡ªa coiled dragon encircled by a wreath of mes.


    "Mydy," Sey began, her voice cautious yet steady, "a letter arrived this evening from the main house."


    Liliana turned her head, her expression calm yet expectant. With a graceful gesture, she extended her hand, and Sey stepped forward, cing the letter in her palm.


    Liliana inspected the seal for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly.


    Then, with a faint hum of mana, she waved her other hand over the letter, dissolving the magical binding that protected its contents. The air shimmered briefly as the magic dispersed, and the seal crumbled into fine ash.


    Unfolding the parchment, Liliana read the letter in silence. Her emerald eyes darted across the words, her expression betraying nothing until she reached the final lines.


    A small, knowing smile curled her lips.


    Once finished, she folded the letter, moulding it into a tight ball. As it rested in her palm, it ignited in a burst of controlled mes, burning away without leaving even a trace of ash.


    "Sey," Liliana said softly, her tone carrying an air of authority, "prepare for our departure. We leave in two days."


    Sey nodded quickly, already anticipating the flurry of preparations thaty ahead. "Yes, mydy."


    ***


    Outside the towering walls of the Baron''s manor, the scene was a mixture of emotions and subtle tension. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the courtyard.


    Lady Cleora stood tall, her regal demeanour a practiced mask, though the lines at the corners of her lips betrayed her exhaustion. She was nked by her two children. Nora stood to her mother''s right, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed sharply on Jolthar, while Ron, to Cleora''s left, kept his head bowed in silent shame, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Lady Maena, her presencemanding as ever, approached Cleora with a deliberate grace, her silver ck hair glinting faintly in the sunlight. She turned to the Baroness with a measured smile, her eyes briefly scanning the children before addressing Cleora.


    "Once I have my talks with the n, we will proceed further about our arrangement," Maena stated, her tone neutral yetced with a subtle authority that left no room for argument. "Until then, I will take my leave, Lady Cleora."


    Cleora inclined her head respectfully, the weight of gratitude evident in her movements. "Thank you again, Lady Maena, for bringing my son back safe and sound. Words cannot express my indebtedness to you and your men."


    Maena waved a gloved hand dismissively, her tone almost dismissive. "A debt of duty, not kindness. Ensure the arrangement proceeds withoutplications."


    As Maena''s piercing gaze flickered to Jolthar, she hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she turned sharply on her heel. Her men, d in their dark matte armour, moved with synchronised precision as they followed her, the rhythmic clinking of their gear echoing in the courtyard.

 Chapter 62 Departure

    Jolthar caught the faintest smirk on Maena''s lips as she passed him, and he wasn''t entirely sure if it was one of approval or quiet amusement.


    Lady Cleora shifted slightly, her attention returning to Jolthar. She offered him a faint smile, her nod conveying both acknowledgement and appreciation. Yet something in her eyes betrayed her guardedness. Cleora was a woman of power and tact, and Jolthar knew well enough that she didn''t give away trust so easily.


    "Thank you, Sir Jolthar," she said, her voice soft yet steady. "Your valour will not be forgotten."


    Before Jolthar could respond, Nora let out an audible scoff, her arms tightening against her chest as she threw him a withering re. The sharp exhale of frustration was not lost on anyone present, though only Ron seemed too ashamed to notice.


    Jolthar met Nora''s fiery gaze with one of his own, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile as if her anger amused him more than it offended him.


    Ron, finally lifting his head, stepped forward and bowed stiffly. "Thank you¡­ for saving me," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His shame hung heavy in the air, the memory of his capture and his mother''s judgment weighing on him visibly.


    Jolthar nodded, acknowledging the gratitude with a casualness that bordered on arrogance.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    As the entourage began to move, Maena and her knights disappeared down the manor''s gravel path, their departure marked by the fading sound of hoofbeats.


    Jolthar, lingering momentarily, let his gaze wander back to the Baroness and her children. His mind was already racing, weighing his next move.


    The barony was ripe with potential, but its true valuey beneath the surface¡ªquite literally.


    The mines, rich with dratium, were a treasure trove waiting to be exploited.


    Jolthar had seen the operation firsthand¡ªthe forcedbour and the veins of shimmering metal glowing faintly with mana. Such a resource, in the right hands, could turn even a minor lord into a power yer in the region.


    His eyes settled on Cleora, and he mused to himself.


    Could he trust her?


    She was cunning, no doubt, but her true loyalties remained a mystery. Gaining her favour¡ªor better yet, controlling her¡ªwould give him an unchallenged foothold in the barony.


    Then there was Nora.


    Her fiery spirit and quick temper intrigued him. Jolthar smirked, recalling their earlier interactions.


    If he yed his cards right, she might be an unexpected ally¡ªor a convenient tool. His musings shifted briefly to Ron, whose weakness was as in as day. That man might be a liability, but even liabilities could serve a purpose in the right context.


    He clenched his fists briefly, his mind turning to the mine. That glowing treasure trove was key, and it wasn''t something he intended to leave in the Baron''s hands for long.


    He turned, falling into step behind Maena''s retinue, his thoughts racing.


    For now, he would y the obedient nsman, but his ambitions were far from modest.


    ***


    Two dayster, dawn broke over the Sandorme Estate.


    A thin mist clung to the ground, weaving through the manicured gardens and cloaking the estate in an ethereal haze. Servants bustled about the grounds, loading trunks and supplies onto the waiting carriages.


    The estate was alive with movement, yet an air of tension hung in the air.


    At the grand entrance of the estate, Lorryll Kaezr stood, d in a finely tailored dark coat adorned with the Kaezr sigil. His sharp features andmanding presence mirrored the strength and pride of his lineage.


    Beside him, Liliana stood poised and serene, her travelling cloak draped elegantly over her shoulders.


    Elowen, his mother, stood at the top of the wide stairway leading to the estate''s entrance. Her piercing eyes, the same steely grey as her son''s, followed his every move.


    Though her expression was impassive, a flicker of frustration crossed her face as her gaze shifted to Liliana.


    Elowen knew.


    She knew it was Liliana who had prompted Lorryll to leave the estate, to abandon the safety and influence of the n''s ancestral stronghold. Yet she said nothing, her silence more damning than words. Ever since their marriage, Lorryll has spent less time with the family and much less with her. She was trying to figure out her daughter-inw, but her mask of a gentle and kinddy never fell off, making it hard for her to anticipate her motive.


    She tried to persuade her son from leaving the main house, but Lorryll seemed adamant on leaving. Lorryll was different from her other children; he wasn''t the type who would always try to impress their parents, unlike his siblings.


    She decided to leave him be, as he was grown up and now has a family of his own. She didn''t want to impose her ideas on him, though she would like if he stayed with her.


    Lorryll barked an order to the stable hands, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Bring the drake!"


    Themand caused a stir among the servants.


    Maelruth, the drake, a magnificent yet temperamental creature, had been reluctant to leave its pit in the estate''s grounds. It was bound by magical enchantments ever since its outburst the other day.


    Lorryll wanted to take the drake along with him, even though it wouldn''t let him ride on it.


    When the stable hands approached the pit to retrieve the drake, chaos erupted. The creature roared in fury, its deep, guttural cry reverberating through the air. Itshed out, its tail smashing through a section of the stone wall surrounding its enclosure.


    The drake broke free, its massive ws tearing into the earth as it bolted from the estate grounds. It was a blur of green and gold, its massive mascr limbs thumped against the ground, making loud noise as well as raising the dust.


    Lorryll''s face twisted in anger.


    "After it!" he shouted, mounting his horse and spurring it into a gallop.


    The estate descended into a frenzy as knights and stable hands scrambled to follow him. Liliana stood motionless, her expression unreadable as she watched her husband disappear into the distance.

 Chapter 63 Kill the beast

    The silence of the evening was shattered by the ferocious roars of the drake. It stormed towards the estate''s main gate, its massive frame a blur of muscle and scales.


    The ground trembled beneath its pounding footsteps, and its sharp ws left deep gouges in the earth.


    The tall iron gates, attached to the estate''s imposing walls, stood no chance against the beast''s fury. The drake hurled itself at the thick, reinforced doors with unstoppable force.


    With a deafening crash, the gates splintered and flew open as though they were mere twigs. The creature roared again, the sound reverberating through the estate and sending servants and guards alike into a frenzy.


    The drake''s rampage, however, came to an abrupt halt.


    Its snarls turned to curious grumbles as it skidded to a stop before a lone figure.


    Everyone at the gates was stunned and stared at the now calm drake and the figure standing before it.


    The sudden turnabout made everyone puzzle and left them deeply confused.


    Jolthar stood calmly amidst the chaos, his expression unreadable. The drake lowered its head, its golden eyes meeting Jolthar''s in a moment of silent recognition.


    Then, to the astonishment of everyone present, the creature''s fury dissolved entirely. It lowered its massive body and became docile, aplete contrast to its earlier aggression.


    Within moments, the tter of hooves and the shouting of orders announced the arrival of Lorryll and the estate''s knights. The riders pulled up sharply at the shattered gates, their expressions shifting from urgency to disbelief as they took in the scene.


    The once-uncontroble drake now sat motionless, its immense bulk rxed and unthreatening.


    "What is this?" Lorryll demanded, dismounting his horse with an angry scowl. His sharp eyes darted between the drake and Jolthar, brimming with suspicion and anger.


    Behind him, knights exchanged uneasy nces, whispering amongst themselves.


    Maena and her retinue, watched the unfolding scene from a short distance with bemused expressions. Her silver-haired lieutenant leaned in to whisper something to her, but Maena silenced him with a raised hand, clearly interested in how this would y out.


    "It''s not a threat anymore," one of the knights muttered, bewildered. "It''s just¡­ sitting there."


    Lorryll''s jaw tightened.


    "Kill it!" he barked, his voice ringing with authority. It was the second time the drake had gone to Jolthar, which only served to heighten Lorryll''s rage. He no longer cared about the beast or who it was given to.


    At the sound of the order, the drake let out a low growl and shifted its massive frame slightly, but Jolthar stepped forward, cing himself between the knights and the creature.


    "You''ll do no such thing," Jolthar said, his voice calm but firm.


    Lorryll''s eyes narrowed, his hands balling into fists. "You dare defy me, outsider? That beast destroyed our gates and endangered everyone here! It deserves death."


    Jolthar met Lorryll''s fiery gaze without flinching. "The drake isn''t a mindless animal. It came to me, and I''ve tamed it. Killing it now would be senseless¡ªand wasteful."


    The knights hesitated, unsure of whether to act on Lorryll''smand.


    The tension in the air was palpable.


    Maena heard about the drake tamed by Jolthar when he first came to the estate. She watched how the drake submitted to Jolthar and how it was acting around him. She just watched how Jolthar dealt with the situation.


    Lorryll stepped forward, his boots striking the ground with deliberate force. His tall frame loomed at the gates, and the tension in the air grew palpable. "Move aside, you insignificant worm," hemanded, his voice loud and dripping with disdain.


    Jolthar didn''t move. His stance was firm, his expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of defiance.


    Lorryll sneered. "Just because you swagger around with the name Kaezr doesn''t mean you belong to us, you filthy, worthless mongrel." His words were sharp, meant to wound.


    The gathered knights and servants exchanged uneasy nces, but no one dared to intervene.


    Jolthar''s jaw tightened, his voice calm but resolute as he replied, "It''s just a normal beast, and it didn''t mean any harm, only terrified of you might him."


    Lorryll''s face darkened, his knuckles tightening around the hilt of his sword. "You dare stand against me?" he snarled, the words barely above a growl.


    Without hesitation, Lorryll unsheathed his de, the sound of steel sliding against the scabbard cutting through the tense silence.


    In that instant, a burst of raw power erupted from him, an aura so fierce it felt like a storm had been unleashed at the gates. Invisible energy radiated outward, rippling through the air like a raging tempest. The ground beneath Lorryll trembled as he took a step forward, his eyes zing with a dangerous intensity. "You will regret challenging me," he dered, his voice low and filled with a promise of impending doom.


    The knights staggered under the force of it, some dropping to one knee as they struggled to stay upright. Servants gasped, clutching at walls and pirs to keep their footing. Even the air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an oppressive weight.


    In his twenties, Lorryll was already a Tier 6 swordsman¡ªa prodigy among his siblings. His mastery of aura was renowned within the Kaezr n, and his skill with the sword had earned him des from both family and rivals. This was no mere disy of power; it was a warning, a deration of dominance.


    Yet amidst the chaos, Jolthar stood unmoved. His feet remained firmly nted, and his eyes locked on Lorryll with unwavering focus. His clothes fluttered wildly in the torrent of energy, but hisposure remained intact.


    Even the drake, which had previously gone berserk, seemed unbothered by the swirling force. The creature sat beside Jolthar, calm and silent, its massive head turning slightly as though watching the unfolding drama with mild curiosity.


    Jolthar watched Lorryll release his aura with a keen interest. It was the first time he saw someone with such a pure aura as him, such a potent, raw aura. Lorryll was only a tier 6, but his aura had such a strong dominant nature; truly, Lorrlyy lived up to the name of Kaezr.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om

 Chapter 64 He is a big boy

    Even Maena was mused seeing Lorryll. He wasn''t the type to show such petty behaviour, but now he was going all out on a young man because of the drake. She could tell it was hurting his pride as the drake didn''t choose him.


    Maena, standing a short distance away with her retina, showed no signs of faltering. She observed the disy with her characteristic cool detachment, her ck-silver hair gleaming in the fading sunlight. If anything, a faint smirk yed at the corner of her lips, as though she found the entire scene mildly amusing.


    Lorryll narrowed his eyes, directing the full force of his aura at Jolthar. The energy, wild and untamed, surged like a raging beast, seeking to crush the man who dared defy him.


    Yet Jolthar remained still, his expression unyielding.


    The storm of aura whipped around him, but it might as well have been a summer breeze for all the effect it had. His calm demeanour only seemed to stir Lorryll''s fury further.


    Jolthar was using his voidwrath to block all the aura, which was trying to suppress him and it was reason why the aura had no effect on him.


    "You truly think you can stand against me?" Lorryll growled, his voiceced with venom. His sword gleamed in the fading light, the de vibrating faintly as it resonated with his aura. He raised it slightly, the tension in the air growing to a fever pitch.


    "Your strength doesn''t scare me," Jolthar said, his voice steady. His words cut through the cacophony like a de of their own, carrying a weight that matched Lorryll''s fury.


    For a moment, silence hung heavy at the gates.


    The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next. The knights, still reeling from Lorryll''s outburst, looked on with wide eyes, unsure whether they should intervene or flee.


    The drake shifted slightly, a low rumble escaping its throat, but it didn''t move from Jolthar''s side. Its golden eyes glinted, watching Lorryll intently as though ready to defend its new master.


    Her words carried an unspoken challenge, and for a moment, it seemed Lorryll might direct his fury at her instead.


    Then, to everyone''s surprise, a woman''s voice cut through the heated exchange.


    "Lorryll," she said, stepping forward to ce a hand on his arm.


    "Enough." Liliana, Lorryll''s wife, stepped forward from the crowd. Her presence was calm andmanding, her gaze fixed on her husband. "The drake isn''t a threat anymore. Look at it."


    He looked at her, his expression still stormy, but the tension in his shoulders began to ease.


    Slowly, the raging aura around him began to dissipate, the oppressive weight lifting from the area. The knights exhaled in relief, though they still kept their distance.


    Lorryll hesitated, his anger wavering as he turned to Liliana. She walked closer to Jolthar, her elegant dress trailing behind her.


    A faint smile yed on her lips as she addressed the gathered crowd.


    "Besides," she continued, "this drake is now a gift to my new brother."


    "Brother?" Lorryll repeated, his expression twisting in confusion and anger.


    "Yes," Liliana said smoothly. "Jolthar is like a brother to me. And as a brother, I see no harm in him keeping the creature. It''s a fitting match, don''t you think?"


    Lorryll watched her with a confused expression. He didn''t understand why she would give this drake to him, and moreover, she called him brother¡ªa nobody like Jolthar. It was thetter part that infuriated Lorryll the most.


    Her tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to her words that silenced any further protests. Jolthar raised an eyebrow, surprised by her intervention, though he masked it quickly.


    Lorryll''s face darkened with frustration, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked between Liliana, Jolthar, and the drake before finally spinning on his heel.


    "Fine," he growled. "Do what you want."


    Without another word, he stormed off, his footsteps heavy with irritation.


    Liliana followed after him, though she paused briefly to nce back at Jolthar. She offered him a cryptic smile before disappearing into the estate after her husband.


    Maena remained silent as she watched them leave.


    As the crowd began to disperse, Maena approached Jolthar, her amusement evident in the slight quirk of her lips. "Impressive," she said quietly, her tone carrying a hint of approval. "You''ve managed to rile him up without lifting a finger."


    Jolthar nced at her, his expression neutral. "It wasn''t intentional."


    Maena chuckled softly. "Perhaps not. But it''s clear you''re not as ordinary as he likes to think."


    Jolthar said nothing, his thoughts turning inward.


    The drake beside him let out a low rumble, nudging his shoulder with its massive head. He reached up to ce a hand on its snout, his touch surprisingly gentle.


    Elowen, who had been observing from the shadows, stepped forward atst. Her eyes swept over the scene, taking in the broken gates, the subdued knights, and the calm drake.


    "The drake is yours now," she said, her voice cool and measured. "Take it back to the pit and see to its care. Once that''s done, report to me."


    Jolthar nodded, his gaze steady. "Understood."


    As he turned to lead the drake away, Elowen and Maena exchanged a look.


    "The kid is full of surprises," Maena murmured.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Elowen''s lips curved into a faint smile. "Yes. Just like his mother."


    "So, what''s with Lorryll?" Maena sighed as she turned to Elowen.


    "Lorryll has changed," Elowen said quietly.


    "Yeah, I can see that," Maena replied, her voice low. "And not for the better."


    Elowen sighed, her expression unreadable. "He is leaving the estate."


    Maena shot her a look of disbelief and asked her, "What? Why?"


    Elowen didn''t answer immediately. Her gaze shifted to Jolthar, who was now stroking the drake''s head, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone with such a hardened exterior.


    "He wants to live elsewhere," Elowen said atst. "He wants to have his own home, so he says."

 Chapter 65 Did he come for revenge?

    Maena watched the servants move around, preparing for Lorryll''s departure.


    "And what did the patriarch say about it?" Maena enquired.


    "What would he say? Lorryll is a big man now, and he can do whatever he wants."


    Maena nodded, looking at Elowen, noticing how her expression changed.


    ***


    Jolthar walked with steady strides, the drake at his side.


    The creature, once a berserk, unmanageable force, now followed him without hesitation. Its heavy ws scraped against the ground, but its usual aggressive energy had been subdued.


    Jolthar whispered softly to it, his voice calm and steady, using the subtle connection he''d forged with the beast in their brief moments together.


    "Stay here, in the pit," he murmured. "I''lle back soon. You''ll be safe."


    The drake let out a low, rumbling growl, its enormous head nodding in apparent understanding.


    Jolthar patted the beast gently on its thick neck, feeling the warmth of its scales under his fingers.


    The pit workers, who had been watching from a distance, stood in stunned silence. They had never seen the drake, a creature known for its fiery temperament, act with such docility. It was as if it recognized Jolthar as its true master, an unexpected turn of events that left the workers murmuring amongst themselves.


    Jolthar turned and walked away from the pit, his thoughts shifting towards the task thaty ahead.


    When he arrived at Lady Elowen''s office, the room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of papers.


    Elowen was seated at arge oak desk, her eyes scanning over reports and correspondence with her usual poise. As Jolthar entered, she didn''t look up immediately but instead turned the parchment in her hands to get a better view of the contents.


    Maena had already told her about their mission.


    "Jolthar," Maena said, her tone calm but carrying an air of finality. "I trust the drake is secured?"


    "Yes, mydy. It is in the pit," Jolthar replied, his voice steady.


    She nodded and finally raised her gaze to meet his.


    "I heard you have been very helpful in making the mission a sess, and top of that, we got our hands on the barony. Good work," she praised him.


    "Maena," Elowen began, turning towards her. "You will handle the barony moving forward. I trust you have the experience to manage the situation there. But be cautious with the mines. They are more than just a simple resource¡ªthey are a treasure trove."


    Maena''s gaze darkened, though she kept herposure. "Understood. I''ll see to it personally. The mines will not slip through our fingers."


    After having a little talk with him, Elowen told Jolthar to leave.


    Then he left the room.


    Jolthar walked through the dimly lit corridors of the estate, his thoughts heavy with disappointment. The weight of the recent mission and its oue hung on him. He had risked much and hoped that his efforts might grant him something more substantial¡ªperhaps the barony itself. But that hope now seemed naive. The way they had dismissed the value of his contribution stung more than he cared to admit.


    The n had a lot of regions under it, and he thought maybe they would let go of this one region.


    As he reyed the conversation in his mind, he realized he might have overestimated his standing within the n. Perhaps they still saw him as the "nobody" Lorryll had so cruellybeled him. Or perhaps they simply weren''t ready to offer him a prize as significant as the barony.


    Regardless, the disappointment gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of his tenuous ce within the Kaezr hierarchy.


    Earlier in the room, as Jolthar stood silent, masking his emotions, Lady Elowen had turned her calcting gaze towards him. Her voice, as always, wasposed but carried an undertone of authority that allowed no dissent.


    "So, Jolthar," she said, her words measured, "as you have yed a major role in the mission¡ªand as the drake already seems to have taken a liking to you¡ªit''s yours now. Consider it your reward."


    The room fell silent for a moment, save for the faint scratching of quills on parchment. Maena nced briefly at Jolthar, gauging his reaction, though her face betrayed no clear emotion.


    Jolthar inclined his head respectfully, muttering a quiet, "Thank you, mydy," before leaving the room.


    Inside, however, he sighed deeply. A drake¡ªwhile undoubtedly a valuable and formidable gift¡ªwas far from what he had envisioned as his reward.


    As he exited, he thought to himself, "The barony may have been too much to hope for...but the drake? It seems they''re content to cate me with a beast, no matter how grand. If I want more, I''ll have to carve out my own path."


    For now, Jolthar resolved to make do. The drake might yet prove useful in his ns, though it was a far cry from thends and title he had dreamed of.


    *


    Once Jolthar had left, Lady Elowen remained seated, her hands folded neatly on the desk. Her gaze lingered on the closed door for a moment before she turned to Maena.


    "What do you make of this boy?" Elowen asked, her tone neutral, though her words carried a hint of curiosity.


    Maena leaned back slightly, her arms crossing as she considered her response. "He''s...not like the rest," she said after a pause. "There''s a focus in him that''s rare among his peers. He''s calcted, determined, and bold enough to stand against the Blue Rose. I''ll admit, I was surprised when he did. Few would''ve dared."


    Elowen''s expression didn''t change, but her next words wereced with suspicion. "Do you think he resents the n for ignoring him all these years? Perhaps he''se back seeking revenge¡ªor worse, power."


    The question hung in the air, and Maena''s brow furrowed slightly.


    After a moment, she shook her head. "I don''t know for sure. But we can''t ignore the fact that he lost his mother young and was cast aside for so long. It was... unwise of us to treat him as we did. Children do not forget such things easily."


    Elowen''s face remained stoic, her eyes betraying no hint of agreement or dissent. Instead, she stayed silent, her gaze returning to the maps on her desk.


    Maena stood, her expression resolute. "Even if he remembers, I''m confident he''s loyal to the n now. He''s shown nothing but dedication. But I''ll keep a close watch on him to ensure that doesn''t change. I won''t let him turn against us."


    Elowen nodded faintly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "See that you do," she said simply.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Maena gave a short bow and left the room, her mind already turning to the challenges ahead.

 Chapter 66 The deceptive lady

    The road to the city of Avyaburgh stretched before them, a winding path bordered by dense woods and open fields. The Kaezr knights rode in formation, their armour gleaming under thete afternoon sun. They kept a steady pace, eyes fixed ahead.


    The carriage''s interior was a stark contrast to the rugged terrain outside.


    Every element spoke of wealth and power, from the plush velvet seats embroidered with golden thread to the small crystal chandelier that hung securely from the ceiling.


    The air inside was scented faintly withvender, a subtle luxury provided by sachets tucked into the corners. Sunlight filtered through the stained-ss windows, casting intricate patterns of blue and amber onto the finely woven carpet beneath their feet.


    Lorryll sat on one side, his posture tense. One hand gripped the edge of the seat as if bracing himself against an invisible storm. Though his mind was far away, his dark eyes stared ahead, caught in a whirlwind of frustration and ambition. He was dressed in a dark green tunic with silver embroidery, the fabric straining slightly across his broad shoulders, a testament to his powerful frame. His boots, polished to a mirror shine, tapped rhythmically against the floor as he worked through his thoughts.


    On the other side sat Liliana, her presence a stark contrast to his brooding intensity. She was a vision of poise and grace, her soft blue gown cascading around her like water. Her golden hair, arranged in an intricate braid, glimmered as the light touched it, framing her delicate features. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, studied her husband intently, a knowing smile ying on her lips.


    Lorryll, his jaw clenched and his fists curled tightly in hisp.


    The earlier confrontation with Jolthar reyed in his mind like an irritating echo. The audacity of that lowborn wretch standing against him, unflinching even in the face of his aura, gnawed at his pride. That stubborn mutt had dared to defy him, and worst of all, he''d seeded in walking away unscathed¡ªprotected not by his strength but by Liliana''s calcted interference.


    "Unbelievable," Lorryll growled under his breath, his anger seeping into the air like a palpable force. He struck the side of the carriage with his fist, the impact rattling the frame and drawing a small, startled nce from Liliana.


    She sat across from him, calm and collected, her head slightly tilted as she observed his outburst with a mix of amusement and exasperation.


    "Let it go, Lorryll," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a soothing yet firm undertone. She leaned forward, resting her chin delicately on her sped hands. "You''re letting him get under your skin, and he''s not worth it."


    "Not worth it?" Lorryll''s voice rose, his frustration bubbling over. "He stood against me, Liliana! That little shit dared to challenge my authority, and I couldn''t even¡ª" He cut himself off, gritting his teeth in frustration. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. "I should''ve killed him where he stood. The drake too."


    Liliana let out a soft, almost condescendingugh, shaking her head. "And what would that have achieved? Do you think killing him would have solved anything? Jolthar is a nobody, just like you said."


    Lorryll''s re remained, though her words gave him pause. He leaned back slightly, his posture still tense, and his eyes narrowed. "That ''fool'' humiliated me in front of everyone. If word gets out that I let him walk away unpunished¡ª"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "Then you''ll make sure it doesn''t," Liliana interjected; her tone sharpened just enough to cut through his tirade. She reached over, cing a hand gently on his knee. "You''re too smart to let this derail your focus. You have bigger things to worry about¡ªlike establishing yourself in Avyaburgh. Forget Jolthar. He''s irrelevant."


    Lorryll looked at her hand on his knee, her touch soft but grounding, and exhaled heavily. "And the drake?" he asked bitterly. "He gets that too? That beast could''ve been mine."


    Liliana smiled faintly, her emerald eyes glinting with a knowing light. "A drake? Please, Lorryll. You''re Kaezr, and now you are the son-inw of the Naemarys n. When the time is right, you''ll have your own dragon, not just some overgrown lizard. Let Jolthar have his moment. It doesn''t diminish you in the slightest."


    Her confidence andposed demeanour had a way of dulling his anger, though it didn''t erase it.


    Lorryll looked out the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sprawling city of Avyaburgh awaited. "You''re right," he muttered after a long pause, his tone begrudging. "I''ll let him have his fun¡ªfor now. But if he ever crosses me again¡­"


    Liliana squeezed his knee gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He won''t. I''ll make sure of it. And so will you¡ªbecause you''re smarter than this, my love. You''re destined for greatness, not petty rivalries."


    Lorryll allowed himself a small smirk, though the fire of his earlier frustration still simmered beneath the surface.


    As much as he hated to admit it, Liliana''s words had a way of tempering his rage and reminding him of the bigger picture. Jolthar, the drake¡ªthose were small distractionspared to what he was going to do in Avyaburgh.


    He leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze. "You always know what to say, don''t you?"


    Liliana''s smile widened, her voice taking on a yful lilt. "Of course. That''s why you married me, isn''t it?"


    Her words carried an undercurrent of cunning, the kind that had always both intrigued and unsettled Lorryll.


    She leaned closer, her fingers brushing over his hand, her touch firm but soothing. "Avyaburgh is thergest city in the region. Its trade routes connect to every major city, its poption is unparalleled, and its influence stretches far beyond its walls. If we seed there, we don''t just gain a foothold; we establish a foundation for the Kaezr n."


    Lorryll''s expression softened, though the shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes. "My father won''t like that though."

 Chapter 67 Milk?

    Liliana''s smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Of course he won''t. But that''s where my nes in. We give them what they want¡ªwithin reason¡ªand in return, they give us what we need. And with you at the helm, there''s no limit to what we can achieve."


    Her hand moved to his thigh, her touch firmer now, grounding him as she leaned even closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and intimate. "You are the eldest son, Lorryll. You are Kaezr''s future. Your father may not see it yet, but once you make Avyaburgh yours, he will have no choice but to recognize your strength. And I will be by your side, ensuring that no one¡ªno rival sibling, no opposing force¡ªcan stand in your way."


    Lorryll''s lips quirked into a faint smirk. Her confidence was infectious; her unwavering belief in him was a balm to his troubled mind. He ced his hand over hers, squeezing gently as if to acknowledge her words without fully voicing his gratitude. Explore more adventures at empire


    Liliana''s smile turned yful, her fingers tracing small circles on his thigh. "You carry too much tension, my love," she said, her tone teasing now. "Always so serious, always so focused. You need to learn to let go once in a while."


    Her hand moved higher, her intentions unmistakable.


    The shift in her demeanour was sudden yet seamless, her calcted charm giving way to something more primal.


    Lorryll''s smirk deepened as he met her gaze, his dark eyes zing with a mix of desire and amusement.


    "You always know how to distract me," he said, his voice low and rough.


    "It''s my duty as your wife," she replied her tone light but her actions anything but.


    She dropped to her knees and unbuckled his pants, holding out hisid member. She looked up at him as he put his hand over her face, slowly caressing her cheek. The glint in her eyes made him aroused, and his member got hard instantly.


    Liliana smirked as she stroked him, looking him in the eye. Lorryll felt her soft hands; he pushed his fingers into her mouth, and she started to suck them. And she continued doing so until he was hard.


    Then she moved gracefully, sliding onto hisp, her gown pooling around them as she wrapped her arms around his neck and started riding him.


    The carriage swayed slightly as it rolled over uneven ground, but they paid it no mind.


    Their passion grew, and their movements were bold and unrestrained. The walls of the carriage seemed to close in around them, cocooning them in their private world.


    Outside, the rhythmic tter of hooves on the dirt road continued a steady backdrop to the intensity within.


    -


    The Kaezr knights, ever disciplined, rode in silence. Their expressions remained neutral, their eyes fixed ahead as the carriage''s faint movements and muffled sounds reached their ears. Years of service had trained them to ignore such matters, and they adhered to that training with unwavering focus.


    The captain of the guard, riding closest to the carriage, allowed himself a small, knowing smile. He had served the Kaezr family long enough to recognize the dynamics at y.


    Lorryll and Liliana were an ambitious pair, their marriage as much a political alliance as a personal union. Whatever transpired within that carriage was of no concern to him, so long as it did not interfere with his duty.


    The procession moved steadily forward, the city of Avyaburgh growing closer with every passing mile.


    Above, the sun began its descent, casting the sky in hues of orange and gold.


    ***


    Inside his modest room within the sprawling Kaezr n estate, Jolthar sat in a chair by the small wooden table, holding a in y cup filled with milk.


    The room was sparsely decorated¡ªa bed with a simple quilt, a sturdy wardrobe, and a tall window letting in the dim light of the evening.


    As he took another sip, the creamy richness of the milk was oddlyforting, a habit that harkened back to his childhood. He set the cup down on the table with a sigh, staring at the swirling patterns in the liquid as his thoughts drifted.


    His first thought was about the money; it was the driving force, even in this world too. Currently, there is no specific need for him, but he needs to think of something to gain a foothold for himself.


    When he talked with Nora, she mentioned that she had her ideas to earn money. He needed to go meet her again and see if she was interested in doing business with him. Well, she certainly seemed like a capable girl to him.


    The knock on his door startled him.


    Jolthar frowned, wondering who it could be at this hour. He stood and moved to open the door, only to find Lady Maena standing there, her arms casually crossed and an amused smile ying on her lips.


    "Lady Maena?" he said, blinking in surprise. He stepped aside to let her in, unsure why she would visit him here, especially unannounced.


    As she entered, she walked to the table, and her gazended on the cup of milk on the table.


    She arched an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. "Milk, Jolthar? Really? I was half expecting wine or ale from a man who stood his ground against Lorryll today."


    He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or indignant. "I''m not much of a drinker," he replied defensively. "And besides, milk keeps my mind clear."


    Maenaughed her voice light and teasing. "Clear for what, exactly? nning how to stand against another Kaezr heir, perhaps?" She stepped closer, her tone dropping slightly, almost conspiratorial.


    "You''re full of surprises, Jolthar."


    He smirked, leaning casually against the table, though his heart quickened under her gaze. "And here I thought surprises were a bad thing in the Kaezr n."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "Not always," she replied smoothly. Her eyes sparkled as she moved a little closer, her demeanour bothmanding and disarming.

 Chapter 68 A fierce ride

    "I like surprises when they''re useful. Like how you handled the mission. You proved resourceful, loyal, and, let''s be honest, entertaining.


    And about earlier, not many could go toe-to-toe with Lorryll and live to tell the tale, let alone without a scratch."


    He shrugged, though her praise stirred something in him. "I just did what needed to be done. That''s all."


    "And that''s exactly why I''m interested in you," she said, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone.


    Her words caught him off guard, and she seemed to enjoy his momentary loss ofposure. "You''ve got potential, Jolthar. And I want to see how far that potential can go."


    He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Is this about my ce in your unit, or something else?"


    Maena chuckled again, stepping back slightly but letting her gaze linger. "A bit of both, perhaps.


    Let''s just say I want you to stick around. There''s something about you that feels¡­ different. And different can be valuable."


    She turned, heading toward the door but pausing to nce back at him. "Report to my office tomorrow. I''ve got ns, and you''ll be a part of them."


    With that, she left, the sound of her boots echoing faintly in the corridor.


    Jolthar remained where he stood for a moment, her words reying in his mind. There was a mixture of intrigue and warning in her tone, and he couldn''t quite ce her intentions.


    Still, her praise felt genuine, even ifced with a certain calcted charm.


    He shook his head and finished the milk in one long gulp before setting the cup down and grabbing his coat.


    The encounter with Maena left him restless, and there was something he''d been meaning to do.


    He made his way to the n''s grand library, his boots tapping against the polished stone floors.


    While he was heading towards the library, he came across a young woman, in her twenties, dressed in a floral gown with silver snow hair. Her long hair was left freely, adding to the ethereal aura she exuded. Her soft caracel skin and oval-shaped face caught his attention, and he couldn''t help but be intrigued by her presence.


    She walked towards him, followed by two maidservants. Jolthar recognized her immediately. She was the eldest daughter of the patriarch; her name was Isorabe. Just like her name, she was certainly a beautiful youngdy, Jolthar thought.


    He watched her walk past him, and she didn''t even bat an eye at him. What he got were the res from the maidservants, probably the result of his lingering gaze.


    He shook his head, watching her leave the corridor. From his memories, he had no memory of having any talks with her, nor did she spare a nce at him even in the past.


    Then a thought crossed his mind: what if he married her? He could get significant hold in the n. And going by the marriage thing in n, she was his cousin, so he had a chance.


    Putting the thought at the back of his mind, he resumed his walk to the library.


    The library was a vast, cavernous hall lined with towering shelves of books and scrolls, illuminated by faintly glowing crystals embedded in the walls. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled the air as Jolthar navigated the maze of aisles. He approached a sectionbelled n Records, his eyes scanning the spines for anything that might hold the information he sought.


    He wanted to know more about the n''s assets and the details of its members, particrly the knights.


    Jolthar''s mind churned with ideas and suspicions¡ªhis future ns might depend on how well he understood the n''s internal workings. His fingertips brushed across the books, pausing asionally to pull out a volume or a scroll.


    As he worked, a faint noise caught his attention¡ªthe soft scuff of a boot against stone.


    He froze, his ears straining to catch any further sound. The library was supposed to be empty at this hour. Carefully, he set the book aside and peered into the dimly lit aisle, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at his belt. But after a tense moment, the sound faded, leaving him alone once more.


    Jolthar exhaled slowly, brushing off the momentary paranoia. He returned to the ledgers, his mind focused on piecing together the threads of the n''s power structure.


    Whatever ns Maena had for him, whatever ambitions he harboured for himself¡ªunderstanding the Kaezr n would be the key to navigating the treacherous waters ahead.


    After that, he returned to his room and slept through the night.


    -


    Next morning,


    Jolthar made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the Kaezr estate, his boots echoing softly against the polished stone floors.


    He was now heading towards Maena''s office. His encounter with Maena yesterday still lingered in his mind, her words an intriguing mix of praise and hidden intentions.


    He yawned, stretching his hands as the night''s sleep wasn''t enough.


    As he approached the doorway, he heard faint voices. Pausing briefly, he recognized one of them¡ªit was Eran. Jolthar straightened and stepped into the room.


    Maena and Eran were seated at the central table, poring over maps and documents.


    Eran, with his chiselled jawline and ever-present calm demeanour, nced up as Jolthar entered, offering a curt nod. His attire was practical¡ªdark leather armour marked with the Kaezr crest, suggesting readiness for action.


    Maena looked up as well, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Ah, Jolthar. Perfect timing," she said, motioning for him to step closer.


    "What''s going on?" Jolthar asked, his gaze shifting between them.


    Maena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "There''s a mission that requires immediate attention. It''s rtively straightforward, so I won''t be apanying you this time. You''ll be going with Eran." Explore more stories with empire


    Jolthar''s brow furrowed slightly. "What''s the mission?"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Eran stepped forward, his voice steady and direct. "We''ve beenmissioned by the Jowaryan tribe in Daryen Valley. They''re long-time allies of the n, so it''s important to handle this properly. It''s not aplicated task, but it does require a certain level of tact."

 Chapter 69 Jowaryan tribe - 1

    "The Jowaryan tribe," Jolthar repeated, recalling the name. He had read about them briefly during his stay at the Keep. Known for their independence and honour, they maintained strong ties with the Kaezr n, the only n connected to them as they were a discrete group.


    Maena nodded. "The tribe is dealing with some issue they haven''t specified in detail¡ªlikely a dispute or a local threat. You''ll learn more when you arrive. Your job is to resolve it quickly and ensure the n''s rtionship with the Jowaryans remains intact. They value respect and diplomacy, so keep that in mind."


    Jolthar nced at Eran, who was poised. "When do we leave?"


    "Immediately," Maena replied, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.


    "The Jowaryan chief requested urgency, and I trust you both can handle this without my supervision." She looked at Jolthar directly, her expression softening slightly.


    With that, he followed Eran out of the room.


    Jolthar informed Eran that he would meet him in two hours and went back to his room.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    -


    The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Jolthar''s room, casting a soft golden hue across the floor.


    Jolthar stretchedzily, still feeling theziness in his bones. Today was another step in proving his worth, but for now, he indulged in one of his simple pleasures¡ªa long, warm bath.


    The bath chamber was already prepared when he arrived.


    Jolthar thanked the butler inwardly. One of the things he liked about the n was stomach-full meals and a diligent butler who would bring anything to his room.


    Steam rose gently from the water, filling the room with a calming warmth. Jolthar eased himself into the tub, letting the heat seep into his skin. He leaned back against the smooth stone edge, his mind drifting as the water embraced him.


    He thought about Maena''s words, the mission ahead, and the drake¡ªhis drake, Maelruth. It was a strange feeling, knowing such a powerful creature had bonded with him, an added bonus.


    For what felt like an eternity, Jolthar allowed himself to simply exist, his thoughts untethered as he savoured the rare moment of tranquillity. He was in no hurry.


    When the water began to cool, he reluctantly pulled himself out, drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist.


    By the time he returned to his room, breakfast was alreadyid out on the small table by the window. The ever-efficient butler had included his staple drink: arge ss of milk.


    Still damp and d only in his towel, Jolthar settled into the chair and began eating. The soft bread, fresh fruits, and cured meats were a perfect start to his day. He took slow sips of milk between bites, savouring the familiarity of his routine.


    Once he finished, he dressed quickly in a practical but well-fitted outfit suitable for travel. He took the scabbard thaty on the nearby dresser, securing it at his waist.


    Then headed out toward the pit where Maelruth was kept.


    -


    Enjoy exclusive adventures from empire


    The pit was alive with activity as usual.


    Men worked on maintaining the area, ensuring the beasts kept there were fed and secured.


    He walked to the deeper cave in the pit where Maelruth was kept.


    As Jolthar approached, Maelruth was devouring arge b of meat, its powerful jaws tearing into the flesh with ease. The sight might have unnerved most, but to Jolthar, it was a reminder of the bond they had begun to forge.


    Walking closer, he reached out and gently caressed the drake''s scaled neck.


    Maelruth paused its meal momentarily, letting out a low, rumbling growl¡ªnot of aggression but of contentment. Jolthar smiled, patting the beast affectionately. "You''re a magnificent one, aren''t you?" he murmured.


    The workers nearby watched in awe.


    Maelruth, who had once been a rampaging terror, now behaved with docility under Jolthar''s touch. It was a sight that had be the talk of the estate, fuelling both admiration and envy.


    Jolthar turned to the men standing nearby. "Prepare a saddle on its back. I''ll be riding Maelruth today."


    The workers exchanged nces, clearly impressed but a little hesitant.


    One of them, an older man with a weathered face, spoke up. "Aye, sir. We''ll get it done right away."


    Within the hour, they had crafted a sturdy yet elegant saddle,plete with reinforced straps and afortable seat. The saddle was designed to fit Maelruth''s powerful frame while ensuring Jolthar could ride securely.


    Once it was ready, Jolthar climbed onto Maelruth''s back. The drake shifted slightly under his weight but otherwise remained calm.


    Jolthar adjusted the reins and leaned forward. "Let''s show them what we can do," he said softly.


    Maelruth let out a guttural growl and began moving, its powerful legs carrying them toward the front of the estate.


    As they made their way, estate workers and residents stopped in their tracks, staring in astonishment. The same drake that had terrorized them not long ago now moved with quiet obedience, its ridermanding both respect and intrigue.


    At the front of the estate, Eran waited near his horse, casually adjusting the straps of his saddle.


    His sharp eyes caught sight of Jolthar and Maelruth long before they arrived. He watched with a mixture of surprise and amusement as the drake strode forward, its massive ws digging into the earth with each step. The sight of Jolthar atop the beast was undeniably impressive.


    As they approached, Eran smirked. "Well, look at you, the new drake master. I guess milk does do the body good," he said sarcastically, his toneced with mockery.


    Eran knew about Jolthar''s habit of drinking milk. And ever since their first mission, Eran treated Jolthar more like a friend than a young master of the n. He admired the young swordman, who was different from the young lords he served.


    Jolthar smirked back, unfazed. "Jealous, Eran? Or just surprised I''ve got more charisma than you''ll ever have?"


    Eran chuckled, shaking his head. "Charisma? Is that what they''re calling it these days?" He stepped closer, giving Maelruth an appraising look. "I''ll admit, it''s impressive. Just don''t let it go to your head¡ªor your drake''s, for that matter."


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