The Sinful Young Master

Alden studied her for a long moment, then slowly exhaled. With a slight gesture of his hand, the oppressive aura receded, the weight lifting from the air. Jolthar gasped quietly, his body instinctively releasing the tension it had been holding. Roblan staggered but caught himself.

Alden smirked once more. "You are bold," he remarked, glancing back at Jolthar. "Boldness alone does not make one powerful; sometimes it would kill you. Do not forget that, boy."

Jolthar remained silent, his rage simmering beneath the surface.

The envoy turned to his men. "We have seen enough for now," he declared. "We will report our findings to the Ministry. But do not think this is over."

With that, the envoys turned, exiting the tent as swiftly as they had come. The moment they were gone, Jolthar exhaled sharply, his fists still clenched, his entire body trembling with rage.

Nora turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Jolthar, I know you're angry, but you can't fight them. Not yet. They hold the authority of the Empire. Challenging them now would be suicide."

Jolthar's jaw tightened, his mind burning with frustration. He hated the feeling of powerlessness, of standing there while others dictated his fate. But she was right. He was not strong enough yet.

But he would be.

One day, no envoy, no noble, no arrogant bureaucrat would ever hold power over him again.

-

The moment the envoys left, the atmosphere in the tent shifted dramatically.

The oppressive weight of their presence lifted, leaving behind a heavy silence that was both a relief and a reminder of the tension that had just unfolded.

Jolthar sank into a chair, his massive frame seeming to deflate as he let out a long, weary sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. The pressure those five men had exerted, along with Alden's cutting words, had been real—and Jolthar knew he had been outmatched.

If he had drawn his sword, if he had taken even a single step toward them, it would have been the end. He knew it, and so did Nora and Roblan.

If Nora hadn't stepped in, he would have drawn his sword.

Nora slumped into a chair across from Jolthar, her usual fiery demeanour subdued. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and let out a shaky breath. "I thought they were going to kill us if you had fought them," she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. Her green eyes flicked to Jolthar, searching his face for some sign of reassurance.

Roblan, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement. His youthful face was pale, and his hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together. "They would have definitely killed you, Jolthar," he said, his voice low.

"If you had so much as lifted your sword, those five men behind Alden… they were just waiting for an excuse. I could see it in their eyes. They were eager for a fight."

Jolthar leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he processed their words. He knew they were right. The envoys hadn't just been there to inspect; they had been there to intimidate, to assert their dominance.

And they had succeeded, at least for a moment.

Jolthar's pride stung more than anything else. He was a prideful swordsman, and yet he had been forced to hold back, to swallow his anger and pride for the sake of his business.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Nora watched him carefully, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice softer now.

Jolthar looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting hers.

For a moment, he didn't respond.

Then, with a faint smirk, he reached up and patted his cheek where she had slapped him. "No, I'm not," he said, his tone dry.

"It's still stinging. You hit me hard, you know."

Nora's eyes widened, and then she frowned, her lips twisting into a scowl. "What? I should have hit you even harder," she shot back, her usual fire returning.

"Maybe hard enough to knock you out. After all, I don't get many chances to hit you."

Jolthar's smirk widened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "If hitting me makes you happier, then go ahead," he said, his voice teasing.

"You can hit me as much as you want."

Nora's face flushed, and she recoiled slightly, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Eww! Are you a masochist or something?!" She exclaimed, her voice rising in mock horror.

Jolthar shrugged, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "Well, I wouldn't mind becoming one for you," he said, his tone playful.

Nora's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything, Roblan burst out laughing. The sound was so unexpected that both Jolthar and Nora turned to look at him, their bickering momentarily forgotten.

Roblan was doubled over in his chair, clutching his sides as he laughed. Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire

"You two…" he managed to say between laughs, "you sound more like a couple arguing. Honestly, if anyone walked in right now, they'd think you were married or something."

Jolthar and Nora froze, their eyes widening in unison. Then, at the exact same time, they both turned to Roblan and yelled, "NO!!! WE ARE NOT!!"

Nora went on, with her face twisted, repulsed with the thought, "Brother, don't even joke about such a thing. Who would marry such a dumb freak?"

Jolthar put his hand on his chest, feigning offence. "I'll have you know, I have plenty of admirers," he retorted with a smirk.

"You don't know how popular I am," Jolthar said, waving his hand dramatically. Nora rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his antics.

Roblan, though startled by their loud remark, continued laughing, seeing how Jolthar was praising himself.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right," he said, still chuckling. "I was just saying. You two have this… dynamic. It's kind of hard not to notice."