The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 351: In the dungeon

Raayani spoke for the first time since entering, her voice calm and measured.

"Which is exactly why we must move carefully but quickly. Every hour that passes gives Jolthar’s enemies time to solidify their position."

Bertelot turned his attention to the Blue Rose Matriarch.

He had heard of her, of course.

Everyone had. Her reputation was formidable: a woman of exceptional beauty and even more exceptional capability. She had built her house into one of the most powerful forces in the empire.

And yet she stood here, allied with his daughter, defending a young man accused of murder.

"Matriarch Raayani," Bertelot said with careful respect.

"Your presence here speaks volumes. May I ask what your interest is in this matter?"

Raayani’s eyes met his without flinching. "Jolthar Kaezhlar is under my protection, as is the Barony of Tekkora. The Blue Rose does not abandon its allies when they face unjust persecution."

The unspoken message was clear: move against Jolthar, and you move against one of the empire’s most powerful houses.

Bertelot absorbed this, recalculating his approach. "Then we are aligned in purpose, at least. Come. We’ll go to see Lord Dodd Halvren together. Between your influence and mine, we should be able to get answers."

Cleora felt a small surge of relief. Her father was helping, even if reluctantly. That was more than she had dared hope for.

As they prepared to leave, Raayani’s expression remained serene, but internally she was making her own calculations. She had the power to destroy everyone involved in this farce. The Blue Rose’s reach extended into every corner of the empire.

With a word, she could ruin careers, bankrupt houses, and make people disappear.

But she wouldn’t.

Not yet.

The reason was simple and terrifying: the Emperor and his Baerault Guard.

That elite squad was legendary for its brutality and effectiveness. They answered only to the Emperor himself, and they had one purpose: to eliminate threats to imperial stability.

And on top of that, he has the six Great Generals Arshiks, the empire’s most formidable force.

If Raayani unleashed the full force of the Blue Rose in the capital, if she started a political war, the Baerault would come for her. They wouldn’t care about justifications or righteousness. They would only see chaos that needed to be ended.

So she would play the civilized game.

For now.

Use legal channels, apply pressure through proper means, and clear Jolthar’s name through the system rather than outside it.

But if that failed, if those who had orchestrated this arrest pushed too far...

Well.

There were worse things than facing the Baerault Guard. And Raayani had not built a clan of her own by being afraid to take risks when necessary.

The three of them moved through the Department of Justice, heading toward the offices of Lord Dodd. Around them, the machinery of imperial law ground onward, processing cases and rendering judgments.

Somewhere in this same complex, Jolthar was being processed as a prisoner.

But he was not alone, and his allies were moving.

The game had begun in earnest.

*

The Dungeon and The Office

The dungeon beneath the Ministry of Justice was not the worst Jolthar had seen, but it wasn’t pleasant either. Damp stone walls wept moisture in the flickering torchlight.

The air smelled of unwashed bodies, mold, and despair. Iron bars separated cells, and the sound of chains rattling echoed through the corridors as prisoners shifted in their confinement.

The guards had unlocked his shackles once he was inside the cell, then locked the barred door behind him.

Jolthar rubbed his wrists where the metal had pressed, then looked around his new accommodations with the same calm assessment he’d shown throughout the arrest.

A stone bench ran along one wall. A bucket sat in the corner for waste. Straw covered parts of the floor, though it looked old and dirty. Two other prisoners occupied the cell with him: one an older man with a grizzled beard, the other a younger fellow with nervous eyes.

Jolthar sat down on the bench as if he were settling into a chair at a comfortable tavern. He leaned back against the wall, stretched his legs out, and let out a long breath.

The posture was so relaxed, so completely unbothered by his circumstances, that both cellmates stared at him in confusion.

"You new in the city?" the older prisoner finally asked, his voice rough from years of hard use.

"Just arrived," Jolthar confirmed with a slight nod.

"What’d they get you for?"

"Murder, apparently."

The younger prisoner’s eyes widened. "Murder? You don’t look like a killer."

Jolthar smiled faintly. "What does a killer look like?"

The older man chuckled at that, a dry rasping sound. "He’s got you there, Pim. I’ve known killers who looked like priests and priests who looked like killers."

He studied Jolthar more carefully. "You don’t seem too worried about it, though. Most people come in here for murder charges; they’re either crying or raging. You look like you’re waiting for someone to bring you wine."

"Would be nice," Jolthar said agreeably.

"What are you in for?"

"Debt," the older man said with a shrug.

"Owed the wrong people money. They had me arrested rather than just breaking my legs. Probably cheaper for them in the long run."

The younger one, Pim, spoke up hesitantly. "I... I was accused of stealing from my employer. But I didn’t do it. It was the foreman, but he blamed me."

"Happens more often than it should," Jolthar observed. He looked around the cell again, then at the corridor beyond.

"So what’s life like in the capital these days? I haven’t been here in a while."

The question surprised them both. Here was a man facing murder charges, and he wanted to chat about daily life in the city?

But the older prisoner shrugged and started talking. There was little else to do in the dungeon anyway.

"Getting more expensive, that’s what. Food prices keep climbing. The merchants blame the farmers, the farmers blame the weather, and we all just pay more for bread."