The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 310: Band of Adventurers

Roblan looked up from his documents. ”Heʼd be proud, Mother. This city stands as a testament to his vision as much as yours.”

”Perhaps,” Cleora murmured. ”Though I fear his path has taken him far from such material concerns.”

The family fell silent, each lost in thoughts of the young man whose presence had once filled these halls.

Outside, the autumn of November 1824 painted the city in golden light. Citizens moved about their business, unaware of what was approaching.

-

At the cityʼs edge, where the main trade road met Tekkoraʼs outer walls, a group of riders crested the hill.

All of them wore the same type of cloaks with a red sigil on the left of their chest, making them all part of a group called the Crimson Blades.

The Crimsan Blades numbered seven; their leader, Gales, a tall and strongly built man, maintained his position at the front with practised ease.

His dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders, framing a face that spoke of intelligence and ruthless calculation. No armour adorned his frame; instead, he wore the simple travel clothes of a merchant, though the sword at his hip and the cold light in his eyes betrayed his true nature.

Beside him rode Preeyonka, her half-elven heritage evident in the sharp angles of her face and the pointed tips of her ears. Her auburn hair was braided with leather cords, and twin daggers rested across her back.

Where Gales embodied cold calculation, she radiated barely contained violence, her green eyes scanning the approaching city walls with predatory interest.

”Impressive,” Gales observed, his voice carrying the cultured tones of education. ”The reports spoke truly. This backwater barony has indeed become something significant.”

Preeyonkaʼs lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. ”More targets to choose from. The citizens look soft, grown fat on easy prosperity.”

”Focus,” Gales commanded quietly.

”Weʼre not here for random slaughter. The Baroness and her children are our primary objectives. I say this again: the cityʼs destruction is not our purpose here.”

Behind them, the Crimsan Blades maintained formation.

Each member had been chosen for specific skills—assassins, battle mages, and warriors who had proven themselves in conflicts across the empire. Their red-trimmed cloaks fluttered in the afternoon breeze, a splash of crimson against the peaceful landscape.

As they approached the city gates, Gales raised his hand in the universal gesture of a peaceful band of adventurers.

The guards, accustomed to adventurers and traders, barely glanced at the group.

Tekkoraʼs prosperity had bred complacency—the city had known peace for months, and the sight of armed adventurers no longer raised immediate alarm.

”State your business,” called one of the guards, his tone bored rather than suspicious.

”Adventurers from the northern territories,” Gales replied smoothly.

”We came to look for any missions around here in the guild.”

The lie rolled off his tongue with practised ease. His companions had shifted their weapons to appear as standard gear, and their formation suggested nothing more threatening than a well-protected caravan.

The guard waved them through without further inspection. ”Market district is straight ahead. The Guild overlooks the city centre—you canʼt miss it.”

As they passed beneath the gateʼs shadow, Preeyonka leaned close to Gales. ”Too easy. This city has grown weak with success.”

”Weakness weʼll exploit,” Gales murmured back. ”But remember—we move with precision. Unnecessary casualties serve no purpose beyond drawing unwanted attention.”

While they passed through the entrance, Gales looked at the man who was dressed in a grey cloak. The man who had come earlier, and that man, gave a slight nod to Gales.

Gales, without saying anything, continued to move forward.

***

While the Crimsan group was moving, elsewhere in the Northern Territory, deep in the cold mountains, a beast sleeping in the cave.

A drake.

There were lots of bones on the ground, and a pit fire was blazing in front of the beast; her crimson scales glowed under the firelight. She rested her head on her forelimbs, with her eyes closed.

She had been living in this cave for six months, waiting.

-

In the village of Aelʼkoryna of elves, after the magnificent battle, the elves had returned to their normal, and a few were busy repairing the damage done.

The air was still, thick with the scent of pine and dew-kissed ferns.

Morning light spilled through the towering trees of the village, casting shifting patterns of gold across the forest floor. The elven village lay quiet behind—woven into the roots and trunks of the ancient grove, hidden by wards, vines, and age-old secrets.

Deep within the forest, where those ancient trees whispered secrets to the wind, lay a hidden sanctuary.

It was secluded and was a place used by the Aelʼkoryna. Situated a couple of miles from the village, it was created by the volcanoes far in the mountains.

The forest floor steamed, tendrils of vapour curling upward from a natural hot spring.

The elves of the village called it their sacred bath, a place infused with chaos energy that melted away fatigue and restored vitality.

For Jolthar, a warrior who had earned his place among them, it was a daily ritual.

He started coming here after a month of his stay in the village. Ekatarina first brought him here, showing him the place and telling him the significance of the place.

After gruelling training sessions, he would sink into the warm, effervescent waters, letting the chaos-infused liquid replenish the energy heʼd spent.

Today, Jolthar reclined in a secluded corner of the springs, the water lapping at his waist. His muscular frame, honed to perfection through relentless training, glistened under the faint luminescent glow of the surrounding flora.

He shaved himself using a dagger, his face once again bearing the marks of most handsomeness. His long snow white hair hung back, damp and clinging to his broad shoulders.

His arms rested on the smooth stone edges, head tilted back, eyes closed, as the heat seeped into his aching muscles.

Yesterdayʼs battle had drained him, and the night of drinking with the elves—now his kin by bond, if not by blood—had left him spent. Yet here, in the embrace of the springs, he felt whole again.