The Sinful Young Master

Nora and Jolthar stood on a narrow path, and Nora was avoiding his gaze; she looked a little flustered.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, waving a hand. "But do you have to show off every muscle like it's some kind of contest?"

Jolthar chuckled.

"You can smile all you want; what do we do with the situation at our hands?"

"I will come up with something, but for now, we should hunt."

"A hunt?" Nora's brow furrowed.

"You want to really go with that. Do you know how many people are working? To supply them, you would need a whole herd or something."

"You should hire people to raise those animal farms too."

"For now, those wild beasts will have to do."

"Ordinary hunting parties would take weeks to gather enough meat to make a difference."

"Well, you have me." Jolthar's voice remained level, but power shimmered beneath his words.

Understanding dawned in Nora's eyes.

"Ah, yes. I forgot that you are the formidable Jolthar," Nora said with a smirk.

"How do you plan on hunting, all by yourselves?"

"If I lead a hunting expedition," Jolthar continued, "I can ensure we return with enough meat to feed the workers for weeks. Preserved properly, it would reduce our grain consumption substantially."

Nora nodded slowly. "That would ease the treasury burden considerably. But there's more we must do."

"The southern fields," Jolthar suggested. "They lie fallow, but with proper irrigation—"

"—they could yield by late summer," Nora finished. "My thoughts exactly. A late planting is better than none."

Their minds worked in tandem, two reincarnators drawing on knowledge from lives beyond this world.

"We'll need seed stock," Jolthar noted. "And tools for the new farmhands."

"The village of Estraven might have surplus. I can dispatch Roblan to negotiate terms." Nora's fingers continued their invisible calculations. "If we reduce rations slightly and supplement with fresh meat, we might extend our treasury another month."

Jolthar nodded, then hesitated, sensing something unspoken in her manner. "There's more."

Nora looked around to ensure they remained unobserved. "I sent a missive to my grandfather—requesting financial assistance. He's responded that he intends to visit Tekkora personally to assess the situation."

Jolthar frowned, "Why did you do that?"

"I just sent it and was not sure he'd replied back."

"When is he coming?"

"Don't know. He didn't specify any time, but he will visit soon. I was anxious that construction would be halted without any wages and supplies. We need to finish this. I have put a lot into this barony, and I want to see it flourish."

"Don't worry, Nora. I will not let that happen."

"Then I need to prepare for the hunt."

Jolthar's mind was already racing ahead, calculating logistics. "I'll need ten men—skilled with bow and spear—and provisions for a week's expedition. We'll establish a smoking station near the ridge to preserve the meat before transport."

"I'll see it arranged by tomorrow." Nora's gaze drifted toward the smithy.

"Then we have our course," Nora concluded. "I'll inform Mother of our plans."

Jolthar nodded, though the mention of Baroness Cleora brought a familiar discomfort. Their betrothal remained unconsummated—a fact for which he was grateful—but the expectation hung between them like an unspoken curse.

"Inform her after preparations are underway," he suggested. "The baroness has enough concerns without adding treasury matters to her burden."

-

As Nora departed to begin arrangements, Jolthar returned to the smithy. Just helping the old man around, working on making new blades. It sort of helped him relax.

Hours later, as twilight descended over Tekkora, Jolthar stood alone atop the half-completed eastern wall.

Below, workers returned to their dwellings, exhaustion evident in their stooped shoulders and slow gaits. These people had come seeking opportunity in Baroness Cleora's vision, bringing families and hopes for better lives. Their fate now partially rested in his hands.

He closed his eyes, extending his awareness northward through the beast king's power.

A challenging hunt lay ahead, but one that might save Tekkora from financial ruin.

Dawn broke clear and cold three days later as Jolthar led ten men through Tekkora's eastern gate. Each carried a bow and quiver, spears strapped across their backs. Pack horses followed with smoking racks, salt, and provisions for a week's expedition.

"The forest beyond the ridge is largely unexplored," cautioned Marven, the most experienced hunter among them. "Stories speak of strange beasts dwelling in the deepest glens."

"Stories often contain truth," Jolthar replied, adjusting Knashii's scabbard across his back. The restored blade hummed with energy, responding to his anticipation. "But fear not. We hunt only what we can handle."

What remained unspoken was his confidence in handling far more than ordinary men might dare approach.

Since their departure, he had maintained a light connection through the beast king's power, mapping the movements of prey animals throughout the forest.

A large herd of elk had gathered near a highland meadow two hours' march beyond the ridge—their primary target.

But deeper in the woods, that ancient presence still moved—something massive and predatory. Jolthar kept his awareness of it carefully shielded from his companions. Such a creature might provide enough meat for a month, but the risk required careful assessment.

They reached the ridge by mid-morning, pausing to survey the vast expanse of forest stretching toward distant mountains. Spring had painted the landscape in vibrant greens, new leaves unfurling in a canopy that whispered with life.

"We establish base camp here," Jolthar instructed, indicating a clearing with access to a stream. "Half our number will construct the smoking racks while the rest begin hunting the nearby trails."

"And you, Lord Jolthar?" asked Tillian, a young archer with keen eyes.

"I hunt alone," he replied, unslinging his bow. "Fear not—I'll return by nightfall."

Before they could protest, he descended the ridge's far side, disappearing into the undergrowth with preternatural silence.

Once beyond sight, he stopped and pressed his palm against the earth, channelling the beast king's power fully for the first time since arriving in Tekkora.

Green energy exploded outward from his touch, invisible to ordinary sight but blazing like wildfire to his heightened senses. It raced through root systems and soil, connecting him to every living creature within miles. He felt them all—from tiny field mice to soaring hawks, each heartbeat a distinct rhythm in a vast symphony of life.

The elk herd waited two miles northeast, thirty-seven strong, grazing peacefully in the highland meadow. But the ancient presence that had caught his attention now revealed itself fully: a dire bear, five times the size of ordinary bears, its consciousness a storm of hunger and territorial rage.

Such a creature would provide enough meat for hundreds of meals—if he could bring it down without losing his hunting party in the process.

Decision made, Jolthar rose and moved toward the elk herd first. They represented the safe choice, the guaranteed success that Tekkora needed. The dire bear would be his personal challenge, afterwards.

The hunt began in earnest as Jolthar approached the meadow's edge. Through the beast king's power, he selected three elder bulls—past their breeding prime but heavy with meat.

With gentle pressure against their minds, he directed them to separate slightly from the herd, drifting toward his position.

The elk responded to his influence, confused but compliant as their instincts were subtly redirected.

When the first bull emerged from the treeline fifty yards from Jolthar's position, he drew and loosed in one fluid motion.

Blue aura flared around the arrow as it flew, guiding it unerringly into the animal's heart. It collapsed instantly, dead before it realized its peril.

The second and third bulls followed minutes later, each falling to perfectly placed shots. No ordinary hunter could have accomplished such kills with such efficiency—but Jolthar was far from ordinary.

Using such a process, he hunted for several hours.

At the end of his hunt, he had killed hundreds of them.

Using telekinesis, he lifted all of their massive carcasses simultaneously, floating them through the air toward the ridge where his men waited. Their astonished expressions when he emerged from the forest—a sphere of dead beasts floating behind him—would ordinarily have amused him, but his mind was already focused on the greater challenge ahead.

Their shock was evident, and they gasped at the sheer amount of numbers Jolthar had hunted in just a few hours. Even skilled hunters wouldn't be able to do that.

"Begin processing these," he instructed, gently lowering the carcasses to the ground.

"There will be more of them, so work on that."

"My lord", Marven protested, "these beasts will keep us occupied until nightfall. Surely—"

"There is greater prey to be had," Jolthar cut him off.

"Continue your work. And I will hunt alone while you take care of those dead beasts."

Before further objections could be raised, he vanished back into the forest, this time heading northwest, where the dire iron-clawed bear had claimed its territory.

The beast king's power guided his steps, allowing him to move silently despite the undergrowth. Each footfall fell exactly where it needed to, twigs bending away rather than breaking beneath his weight.