The Sinful Young Master

Nora stared at Jolthar for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched between them, the only sounds breaking it were the soft munching of Mira and Nytheria.

Mira, sensing the growing tension, paused mid-bite, her curious eyes flicking between the two adults. Her big round eyes darted between Jolthar and Nora. Even she can sense that Nora didn't like Jolthar.

Nytheria, whose very presence spoke of older magics and forgotten tales, bore the grace of her lioness nature even in her woman's form. She ignored their talk and was completely lost in the delicacy of the cakes. Her eyes glittered every time she put the soft cake piece in her mouth, savouring every bite.

The tension in the chamber had grown thick as morning mist in the valleys of old, and even one so young could sense the storm brewing in the air. Enjoy more content from empire

Nora, who had seen sixteen summers pass and carried herself with the bearing of one who had shouldered burdens beyond her years, fixed Jolthar with a gaze.

"No," she declared, her voice carrying the finality of autumn's last leaf falling. "I do not wish to associate with you."

Jolthar furrowed his brow.

"Why?" he asked, his voice carrying confusion.

"Because I know of your secret?" he ventured, though his words fell upon stony ground.

Nora shook her head, her brows knitting together like storm clouds gathering before thunder. "I simply do not like you," she pronounced, "and that is all there is to say on the matter."

But fate, as it often does in tales of old, chose that moment to cast its die.

Like an arrow loosed from a bow came a soldier, his footfalls echoing through the halls as he ascended to their chamber. His news fell upon them like a sudden frost: Lord Eude had arrived at the mansion and was even now in conference with Nora's mother.

The effect of this pronouncement upon Nora was immediate and terrible to behold.

Like a deer that catches the scent of wolf upon the wind, she rose swiftly, her composure cracking like ice in spring thaw.

She began to pace, her fingers finding their way to her lips in that gesture of mortal worry, and her eyes darted about like trapped birds seeking escape.

Then, as one who has found a rope while drowning, she turned to Jolthar. "You spoke of doing anything," she said, her voice carrying both desperation and hope.

"Would you hold to that oath?"

Jolthar, who at eighteen summers had already learned something of honour and its price, studied her with growing concern.

"Who is this lord?" he asked, reading the fear in her bearing as clearly as one reads tracks in fresh snow. "Why are you so worried about him?"

Nora's response came swift and urgent, like the last rays of sun before night falls. "Will you do as I ask? If you will, I shall make you my partner in our dealings of trade and commerce."

The words tumbled forth like water over stones, urgent and unstoppable.

Jolthar, measuring the weight of the moment, gave his assent with a gravity that seemed to still the very air around them.

"I will do as I said."

And so it was that they made their way toward the mansion, leaving young Mira behind in the care of her mother, though not before Jolthar promised his return.

-

The streets of Tekkora were bustling as Nora and Jolthar made their way to the Baroness's mansion. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets, and merchants shouted over one another to sell their goods.

Jolthar walked silently beside Nora, Nytheria trailing behind them with an air of detached curiosity. She was reluctant to leave behind her cakes, but she did in the end when Jolthar said he would leave her behind and go by himself.

As they moved closer to the imposing structure of the mansion, Nora finally broke the silence. Her tone was clipped, but it was clear she was trying to keep her emotions in check. "Eude is not a man to be taken lightly," she began, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"He's a merchant lord, one of the wealthiest men in the region. His power doesn't come just from his wealth, though. He's dangerous because of the connections he's built and the forces he commands."

Jolthar listened intently, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings even as he focused on her words.

"His interest in this barony began when he heard about the mines," Nora continued, her voice laced with disdain. "The mines were one of our late father's most significant contributions to the barony's wealth. After his passing, my mother worked tirelessly to maintain control of them. That's when Eude entered the picture."

"And you know how much the mines cost and are precious to us."

Nora's steps quickened slightly, and her voice grew colder. "He came under the pretence of discussing trade agreements, but once he met my mother, everything changed. He claimed to be 'charmed' by her beauty and proposed marriage on the spot.

My mother, ever the diplomat, managed to reject him without outright insulting him. But since then, he's been relentless. He visits frequently, always bringing gifts and promises of wealth and protection."

"And you don't like him," Jolthar observed, his voice neutral.

"Of course, I don't like him," Nora snapped, then sighed.

"He's manipulative and insincere. Worse, he's backed by the Crimsan Blades, the most feared and disciplined mercenary group in the region. They used to operate independently, but now they're exclusive to him. They're not just muscle—they're highly organized and fiercely loyal."

It was his first time hearing about them.

The tale she wove was one familiar to those who know the ways of power and desire. Upon first glimpsing her mother Cleora, whose beauty was said to rival the stars themselves, Lord Eude had been seized by a passion as sudden as lightning.

Jolthar nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "And what's his goal? The mines?"

"Primarily," Nora said. "But I think he also wants to control the barony through my mother. As you can see, the barony had started attracting much attention with its trade. I plan to develop it even more."