The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 337: To the empire’s capital

"My apologies," the sergeant said quickly.

"We aren’t aware of who you are and acted rudely," the soldier said, trying not to be rude to him. He heard a lot about him; seeing him, there seemed to be exaggerations. But he didn’t dare test him.

"No worries," Aragon waved his hand.

"Now, what message do you bring for the Baroness?"

The sergeant scratched his head and replied, "We aren’t sure if we should open the imperial scroll here. We were strictly ordered to open it in front of the Baroness."

Seeing their struggle, Aragon stood up and sighed.

"Well, let me take you to her then."

They looked surprised but followed him.

-

At the mansion, Cleora received the soldiers in her formal audience chamber, with Jolthar standing at her right hand.

The sergeant approached with proper respect, offering a scroll sealed with the imperial seal.

"Baroness Cleora," he said formally, "I bring greetings from His Imperial Majesty and a summons from the Law Minister. You are commanded to present yourself at the imperial capital within the month to answer questions regarding recent events in your barony."

Cleora broke the seal and read the scroll quickly, her expression growing more serious with each line.

When she finished, she looked up at the sergeant with carefully controlled composure.

"I see. And what specific events is the Law Minister interested in discussing?"

The sergeant shifted uncomfortably.

"Ma’am, I’m just a messenger. But I understand there are questions about... unusual occurrences... and the death of Lord Eude. There may also be concerns about... mysterious threats... to imperial stability."

Jolthar felt a cold anger begin to build in his chest. It seemed that even defeating direct threats to innocent people could not be done without political consequences.

"When does the Baroness need to depart?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"As soon as possible, sir. The winter roads are getting worse, and the Law Minister expects her within the month."

Cleora set the scroll down on her desk and looked at Jolthar.

In her eyes, he could see the same frustration he felt, but also the resignation of someone who had always known that power came with obligations.

"Very well," she said to the soldiers.

"Tell the Law Minister that I will depart within the week. I trust accommodations will be made for my retinue?"

"Yes, ma’am. Everything will be arranged."

After the soldiers had been given fresh horses and sent on their way, Cleora and Jolthar stood alone in the audience chamber, both of them understanding that their peaceful winter was about to come to an end.

"They want to control what they can’t understand," Cleora said quietly.

"A baroness whose lover can defy gods makes them nervous."

Jolthar moved to stand behind her chair, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.

"Then we go to the capital and show them there’s nothing to fear. As long as they don’t threaten my people."

Cleora leaned back against him, drawing comfort from his presence. "And if they do threaten your people?"

Jolthar’s eyes began to glow with silver light, and his voice carried the same deadly certainty it had held the night he faced down a deity.

"Then they’ll learn the same lesson Lord Eude learned. No one threatens what’s mine and lives to regret it."

-

The winter winds of late December 1824 howled through the stone corridors of Tekkora, carrying with them the promise of snow and the weight of destiny.

Jolthar was now standing in one of the halls of the mansion, staring at the void before him. He wasn’t sure if she would come, but he tried calling her, as he thought she might be the perfect person to protect the Tekkora in his absence.

As he summoned his chaos to call her, within few seconds, something did happen.

Nytheria materialised with the grace of flowing water and the power of compressed lightning.

In her humanoid form, she retained the essence of the great lioness—golden eyes that held the wisdom of the hunt, auburn hair that cascaded like a mane down her shoulders, and a presence that commanded both reverence and desire. Her form was statuesque yet feminine, with curves that spoke of both strength and sensuality, wrapped in gossamer robes that seemed woven from moonbeams themselves.

There was something undeniably divine about her bearing, as if she carried within her slender frame the concentrated power of the wild places of the world.

"You have called, young lord," her voice was like honey poured over steel, "and I have answered."

Jolthar stared at her, frowning, at her too formal tone.

Jolthar found his voice, "Nytheria, I called you because I need your help.

I ask that you watch over these lands in my absence, protect my people, and ensure that Tekkora stands strong against any who would threaten it."

The lioness goddess studied him for a long moment, her gaze seeming to peer into his very soul. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Your lands call to the wild places in my heart, young baron. The forests whisper your name with respect, and the beasts speak well of your stewardship. I will guard your realm as fiercely as I would guard my own cubs. This I swear by moonlight and starfire."

With the pact sealed, Jolthar felt a weight lift from his shoulders even as another settled upon them.

Nytheria faded back into the ethereal realm, though he could sense her presence lingering like a protective shadow over his domain.

The carriage that awaited him in the cobblestone courtyard was a masterwork of craftsmanship—lacquered black wood reinforced with iron bands, drawn by four magnificent destriers whose breath formed clouds in the frigid air.

Already seated within, wrapped in rich furs against the cold, was Cleora.

"Are you certain about this journey, my love?" she asked as he settled beside her, her gloved hand finding his.

"The roads to the Imperial City grow treacherous in winter, and there are whispers of unrest in the outer provinces."