The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 315

Capítulo 315: My patience has limits

Nora stepped forward, her young face set with determination inherited from her mother. “Old man, don’t you have shame, pestering a woman even after she rejected you?”

“And we won’t let anyone take away the barony; it is ours, and we worked very hard to make it what it is today.”

Eude’s laugh was soft and dangerous. “The idealism of youth. How refreshing… and how foolish.” His gaze returned to Cleora. “I will ask once more, Baroness. Join me willingly, and your people prosper. Refuse, and they will learn the price of your stubborn pride.”

“My answer remains unchanged,” Cleora declared, her voice unwavering despite the growing tension.

“Tekkora bows to no one.”

Eude’s expression turned cold and twisted as he said, “Then you have chosen their fate as well as your own.”

He gestured sharply, and the doors burst open.

A dozen Crimsan Blades members entered, their weapons drawn and their faces set in grim determination.

The remaining members of the mercenary company moved through the mansion like a plague, overwhelming the few guards and servants who offered resistance.

“Seize them,” Eude commanded.

“All of them. It is time for a public demonstration.”

Cleora shouted, “Guards!”

Roblan reached for his sword but found three blades at his throat before he could draw steel. Nora cried out as rough hands seized her arms, while Cleora was dragged from behind her desk despite her struggles.

There were no guards to heed her words; they were all dead. Preeyonka took care of them swiftly.

The family that had moments before been discussing trade routes and production schedules now found themselves prisoners in their own home.

“You will regret this,” Cleora hissed as her hands were bound. “There are those who will answer for what you do here.”

“Your absent protector?” Eude mocked.

“Let us see if he can hear the screams of those he has abandoned.”

The forced march through Tekkora’s streets was a nightmare of coordinated terror.

The Crimsan Blades had moved with ruthless efficiency, surrounding key buildings and herding citizens toward the central square like sheep. The group which entered the city gates a while ago have spread through the streets. The garrison was burnt, and the guards were being killed.

Families were torn from their homes, vendors dragged from their shops, children separated from their parents in the chaos.

The city that had bustled with peaceful commerce now echoed with screams and the clash of weapons. Those who resisted met swift and brutal ends, their bodies left as warnings to others. The forge that had been Tekkora’s pride sent up smoke that now seemed ominous rather than prosperous.

In the city square, hundreds of citizens huddled together under the watchful eyes of armed mercenaries.

Mothers clutched their children while fathers stood protectively over their families. The fountain where children had played that morning now ran red with the blood of the guards.

Eude led the baroness’ family towards the square, with Gales and Preeyonka taking measures for the full control of the barony.

Eude stood before this gathered multitude, Cleora and her children forced to their knees beside him. His voice carried clearly across the square, magically amplified to ensure every word reached every ear.

“Citizens of Tekkora,” he began, his tone carrying mock sympathy. “You have prospered under the leadership of Baroness Cleora. Your city has grown mighty; your trade has flourished. But prosperity built on false foundations cannot endure.”

Cleora struggled against her bonds, her voice rising in defiance. “These people have done nothing to deserve this! Your quarrel is with me!”

“My quarrel,” Eude replied, his smile cold as winter, “is with the delusion that any can stand against the tide of change. You have clung to loyalty to one who has abandoned you. You have refused the protection I offered. Now your people will pay the price of your pride.”

He raised his hand, and the Crimsan Blades tightened their circle around the terrified citizens. The message was clear—one word from him, and the slaughter would begin.

“But I am not without mercy,” Eude continued. “Pledge your allegiance now, Baroness. Accept my offer, and your people need not suffer for your mistakes.”

Cleora lifted her head, her eyes blazing with unbroken defiance. “I will not purchase their lives with dishonour. Do what you will—we will not kneel to you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath as Eude’s expression darkened with fury. In that moment, the fate of Tekkora hung in the balance, waiting for the word that would either spare or condemn an entire city.

***

Miles away, in the northern chained mountains of the midlands, Jolthar emerged from the cave that had been a gateway.

The midday air carried the bite of highland winds, and his breath misted in the chill.

As he walked into the centre of the cave, he noticed the strange state of the floor. It was all covered with bones.

Inside the cave, scattered bones and the cold remains of a fire pit told stories of recent habitation—animal bones, picked clean, suggesting a large predator had made this place home.

His thoughts turned immediately to Maelruth, his Drake companion.

The bond between them had been forged through deep connection and mutual trust, but his recent travels had separated them. While he was in the training, he always wondered how his drake was doing.

Judging by the state of the cave, she must be doing really well, assuming she was the one who did this.

Closing his eyes, Jolthar extended his awareness, searching for the familiar presence of his drake.

The connection was there, faint but unmistakable—a thread of warmth and loyalty that distance could not sever. They were conncected by a bond which made them sense each other.

She was close, perhaps closer than he had dared hope.

He stepped fully from the cave mouth, scanning the icy terrain that stretched before him. The cold winds whistled around him; even though it was early winter, the cold was already too much to bear.

“Damn! It’s cold!” Jolthar rubbed his hands as he looked around.

The midlands rolled away in waves of stone and scrub, dotted with outcroppings that could conceal a creature as large as Maelruth. The state of the cave suggested she had indeed been using it as her lair, waiting for his return with the patience that marked her kind.