The Sinful Young Master

The men behind Hamen staggered backwards, and their eyes were as wide as saucers.

Even the Chittera's men were shocked to hear it.

Everybody knows who Inadrys was, and they heard many of his tales and his philandering ways.

Yilar expected Hamen to become angry and shout at him in rage after listening to him. But what he was seeing made him frown and astonished him.

Hamen was still sitting leisurely as if he was unbothered by the news of his wife sleeping with another man.

The only man who was unaffected by the news was the husband of the said wife who was sleeping with another man.

Yilar said, "Did you hear what I said?"

Hamen nodded. "I did."

Yilar raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem not bothered by the news, or you aren't even asking if I'm lying."

Hamen closed his eyes, nodding again, "Why do I bother with what a devil spawn is saying to me?"

Yilar frowned as he stared at Hamen for a few seconds. Yilar could see that Hamen wasn't bothered, and he understood that he was telling the truth. Then why was he so calm?

Yilar's eyes grew wide as he continued to stare at the man. "You know already?"

For the first time, Yilar looked at him, as a whole. He didn't look like a man who was bothered by such petty things. He could see something in those eyes, and it wasn't something that you would see in a human.

Yilar had seen his fair share of humans, and this man in front of him was beyond anyone he had seen. Just by the look on his face, he told him bounds about him. He wasn't showing any jealousy, anger, or any kind of emotion, which would drive a husband crazy knowing his wife was sleeping with another man.

Hamen got up and said, "Is that what you have as your last card for convincing me?"

Yilar stayed silent, and he understood that he had underestimated this man. He had thought that if he could take over the county and get his hands on the beast, his plan of coming here would have been easy, but it seemed like he had failed yet again.

Hamen dusted off his hands while saying, "If you don't have anything, just go to back to the hole from which you crawled up."

For a long moment, neither man moved.

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Then, Yilar exhaled slowly and smiled.

"I hope you know what you are dealing with," Yilar said while turning back.

With a slow, deliberate turn, he signalled to Chittera warriors, and they backed away, melting into the shadows of the ruined statues.

Yilar cast one last glance at the count, his violet eyes glimmering.

"You are a practical man, Hamen," he said. "But even practical men must make choices. I hope, when the time comes, you choose wisely."

Hamen said nothing, merely watching as Yilar disappeared into the darkness.

The Graveyard of Old remained silent once more, the statues witnessing yet another conversation that would shape the tides of war.

—— ∗ ——

Two days had passed since the envoys had left, and the Barony of Tekkora was still reeling from the weight of their demands. Despite their warning to halt the work, Jolthar told them to continue working, not caring about anything.

They should have stopped working on the forge until they received approval, but Jolthar didn't let them.

The construction site of the forge buzzed with activity, the sound of hammers striking metal and workers shouting instructions filling the air.

Jolthar stood at the edge of the site, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the progress with a critical gaze. The forge was coming along, but it was far from complete.

And with the Emperor's decree hanging over his head, he had to leave today.

Roblan stood beside him, his expression troubled. He had been unusually quiet since the envoys' visit, his usual optimism tempered by the harsh reality of their situation. He glanced at Jolthar, his brow furrowed.

"Do you think something happened in the Empire?" he asked, his voice low. "It's been two days, and we haven't heard anything from Mother. That's not like her."

Jolthar shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the workers. "No," he said, his voice steady. "But it's taking longer than expected. The Ministry isn't known for its efficiency, and with your grandfather involved, it's bound to be a complicated process."

"I wonder what the envoys have reported."

Roblan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know if Grandfather has arrived yet," he said. "After the envoys left, I've had this… nagging feeling. Like something's not right. The Empire… they're like a cunning fox, you know? They only show their true colours when it suits them. They want everyone under their control, to answer their call whenever they want. And if we don't…"

Jolthar's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. He had been feeling the same unease, a gnawing sense that the Empire's demands were just the beginning of something much larger. But he kept those thoughts to himself. There was no use worrying Roblan further.

From what he had seen so far, the empire was definitely not simple. Mainly the emperor; he doesn't get involved directly and lets his people do the work. There was no mention of the emperor when the envoys came; all they threw around was the name of the minister of finance. So if one were to believe, the ones opposing their development would be the minister, but Jolthar thought otherwise. He thought it was all according to the emperor's wishes and demands, but he wouldn't let himself be out in the open.@@novelbin@@

Before either of them could say more, the sound of hoofbeats caught their attention. They turned to see Nora riding toward them at a gallop, her hair streaming behind her like a banner.

She was waving a letter in her hand, her face flushed with urgency.

"It's from Mother!" she shouted as she drew closer.