The Sinful Young Master

Jolthar and Roblan exchanged a quick glance before stepping forward to meet her.

Nora reined in her horse and dismounted in one fluid motion, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. She thrust the letter toward Roblan, her chest heaving from the ride. "It just arrived," she said, her voice breathless. "It's from Mother."

Roblan took the letter, his hands trembling slightly as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Nora and Jolthar stood by, their eyes fixed on him as he read. The contents of the letter were brief but clear, and as Roblan's eyes scanned the words, his expression grew sombre.

"What does it say?" Nora asked impatiently, unable to wait any longer.

Roblan looked up, his face pale. "Grandfather has arrived in the capital," he said, his voice quiet. "But the matter at the Ministry isn't over yet. They're still in talks, and Grandfather has assured Mother that he'll help. But…" He trailed off, his eyes dropping back to the letter.

"But what?" Jolthar asked, his voice sharp.

Roblan sighed, folding the letter and handing it to Jolthar. "But it's going to take two more weeks to sort out," he said. "The Ministry is dragging its feet, and Grandfather says there's a lot of… resistance. He's doing what he can, but it's not going to be easy."

Nora frowned, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Resistance?" she repeated. "From whom? Father's family? I knew it! They're behind this; I'm sure of it."

Jolthar took the letter and read it quickly, his eyes scanning the words with a practiced efficiency. When he was done, he handed it back to Roblan, his expression grim. "It doesn't matter who's behind it," he said. "No matter what, don't stop the work."

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Roblan nodded, though his face was still troubled. "We can't just sit here and wait. If the Ministry doesn't approve the forge, we're finished. And if we don't send the men…"

Jolthar's jaw tightened, and he turned to look at the forge, his mind racing. "We keep working," he said finally. "We don't stop. As for the men…" He paused, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll handle that. I'll go to Godeylet myself. I will leave now."

Nora's eyes widened, and she stepped forward, her expression fierce. "Jolthar, no," she said. "You can't just—"

"I can," Jolthar interrupted, his voice firm. "And I will. We don't have a choice, Nora. If we don't comply with the Emperor's decree, they'll label us traitors. And if we send our men, we'll be leaving the barony defenceless. This is the only way."

Nora opened her mouth to argue, but Roblan placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. "He's right," he said quietly. "We don't have another option."@@novelbin@@

Nora looked between them, her face a mixture of frustration and fear. But in the end, she nodded, though her eyes were still filled with worry. "Just… be careful," she said, her voice softer now. "We can't afford to lose you."

Jolthar's expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on Nora's shoulder. His lips curled into a teasing smirk as he looked down at her.

"What?" he said, his tone mockingly concerned. "Are you worried about me, daughter?"

Nora's eyes narrowed, her brows drawing together in anger.

"Hey!" she snapped, swatting his hand away. "Don't call me that! I was just saying—if you die, who's going to protect the barony and all of this? It was your plan, after all."

Jolthar clutched his chest dramatically, feigning hurt. "Ouch," he said, his voice dripping with mock offence.

"I thought you were actually worried about me. Turns out you're just worried about the barony. How heartless."

Nora's face flushed, and she punched his shoulder—hard.

Jolthar winced, though it was clearly an act, and he staggered back a step, clutching his arm as if she'd broken it.

"Ah! You're brutal!" he exclaimed, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

But Nora wasn't laughing. She winced, shaking her hand as if she'd just punched a stone wall. "Ugh, your shoulder's like a rock," she muttered, glaring at him. "What are you even made of?"

Roblan, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, finally stepped in. "All right, you two, stop now," he said, his voice firm but tinged with laughter. "Jolthar, do you even know what you're walking into at Godeylet? It's not just the Chittera you need to worry about. That place...is like a predatory land."

Jolthar turned to Roblan, his expression growing more serious. He nodded, his teasing demeanour fading.

"I know, Roblan," he said. "Don't worry. I'll be all right."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have another adventure waiting for me.

Where's my drake, Maelruth?"

As if on cue, a low, rumbling growl echoed from behind the tents. The drake emerged, its massive form towering over the people and the tents.

The creature was a sight to behold—her scales shimmered like molten crimson in the early morning light, and her eyes glowed with an otherworldly intelligence. She snorted, sending a puff of smoke into the air, and lumbered over to stand beside Jolthar, her tail swishing lazily behind her.

"There she is," Jolthar said, a fond smile spreading across his face as he reached up to pat the drake's neck.

"My buddy. Ready for another adventure, aren't you?"

The drake grumbled in response, her deep, resonant voice almost like a purr. She nudged Jolthar with her snout, nearly knocking him off his feet, and he laughed, scratching her under the chin. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too," he said.

A soldier approached, carrying a pack of supplies for Jolthar. He handed it over, along with Jolthar's knashii, a long blade that hung at his waist, sheathed.

Jolthar took the supplies and slung them over his shoulder, then turned to Roblan and Nora, his expression serious once more.

"All right, you two," he said, his voice firm. "Don't stop the work, no matter what. Keep everything moving."

Roblan nodded, his face set in a determined expression. "We'll handle things here," he said. "You just… be careful out there."