The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 477: Talk with the patriarch – 2

Jolthar was quiet for a long time after that.

He knew that there was no point in arguing about what happened. He was aware that the reason they were all paying attention to him now was because that he had become such a strong individual and in the past, they didn’t even spare him a glance.

So he wasn’t going to let some words deter him from not hating them.

The fire burned low between them. The camp behind them made its quiet sounds. Guards moving. Someone sharpening a blade. The normal sounds of people existing in a dangerous place and choosing to keep existing anyway.

“The emperor’s mission: I need three dukes; I have killed two.”

“The third duke,” Jolthar said finally.

“Where can I find him?”

“Northeastern sector,” Caelum said, accepting the redirect without comment.

“It will take three days from where you are now. Our scouts have tracked elevated malice concentration there for several weeks. It moves, but slowly. Duke-class nynthralls are territorial even when they roam. It will not have gone far.”

“Two days and I move,” Jolthar said.

“Two days is correct,” Caelum agreed.

“Your channels need it whether you feel ready or not. Feeling ready and being ready are two different things and you of all people should know that after today.”

Jolthar nodded.

Another silence came down between them. But it was different from the one at the start. That one had been two people finding their footing around each other. This one was easier. The kind that exists between people who have said what needed saying and don’t need to fill the remaining space with nonsense.

Then Caelum spoke again, and his voice dropped into something quieter. Something that came from a different place than strategy or sword wisdom. Something older.

“The world you are building above ground will draw enemies the way a fire draws moths,” he said.

He was referring to the barony. Caelum was aware of everything that was happening in the barony.

“Not only those you have already faced. Not only corrupt ministers or scheming nobles,” he said with a serious tone.

He looked at Jolthar steadily. “People who carry names you recognize. People who believe that what you have built belongs to them by right of blood or connection or simply because they want it badly enough.”

He held Jolthar’s gaze without blinking.

“When that day comes, and it will come, do not let sentiment slow your hand. A swordsman who hesitates because the face in front of him is familiar has already lost the fight. The sword does not know sentiment. The sword only knows the moment it is in. You must be the same.”

Jolthar looked at his uncle for a long moment.

He took his words.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. Completely calm. The kind of calm that isn’t the absence of something but the presence of absolute certainty.

“I want you to hear this clearly,” Jolthar said.

Caelum waited.

“I am a man who remembers the debts owed to him. I never forget those who helped me when I was nobody, and I am not blind to the fox lurking behind polished words and pleasant smiles.”

Jolthar’s face suddenly changed and his voice turned low pitched.

“And I will kill anyone who comes for my life. Anyone who moves against the people I protect. Anyone who raises a hand against what I have built.”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“I don’t care about their name. I don’t care about their blood. I don’t care what history exists between us or what they were to me before that moment.”

A pause, which Jolthar gave intentionally.

“If your sons come for me, they will die the same as any stranger who comes for me. If anyone you know comes for me, they will die. I will not slow down. I will not look for another way. I will end it and I will move forward.”

He let that land.

“I am not the boy who walked out of that gate with one bag anymore,” Jolthar said quietly.

“I stopped being that boy a long time ago. Whoever comes at me next should understand that before they come.”

Caelum held his gaze for a long moment.

There was no shock in his expression. He didn’t get angry either. It’s like he knew Jolthar would say that.

He had asked the question that needed asking in the way that he asked it, and he had received the answer that the situation required.

A man like Caelum didn’t flinch from honest answers. He had spent his whole life seeking them.

He nodded once. Slow and final, the way you seal something that is now understood between two people and does not need to be revisited.

Then he stood. Picked up his sword from across his knees and settled it at his side with the ease of someone returning something to where it belongs.

He looked at Jolthar one last time.

“You should rest while you can,” he said.

“It will take a couple of days. Then go finish what you came here to do.”

He turned and walked back toward the camp. His footsteps were unhurried and even across the corrupted ground, the walk of a man who had been through enough that the ground beneath his feet stopped mattering much regardless of what it was made of.

Jolthar stayed where he was, watching Caleum’s back. For some reason, he felt something in his chest. If things were different, he would stand by that man and fight alongside him.

Caelum was a respectful swordsman, who grew up to be who he is today. The name Kaezhlar was running on his name, and there was no one in the next generation who could live up to his name, not even his children. It was a fact known throughout the realm.

Jolthar let out a long sigh.

He watched the empty field. The Depths pushed against the camp barriers and got nowhere. The sick sky hung overhead doing what it always did.

His hands rested on his knees, and for once he didn’t make them into fists.

Two days.

Then the third duke.

Then home.