The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 417: Temple Feast

Milan’s Villa - Morning

Jolthar woke to sunlight streaming through his chamber windows, his body feeling a little tired from all the rolling and humping.

He sat up slowly, checking the room.

Jazmin had indeed left as promised. No note, no trace of her visit beyond his own memories of their session. Discreet, as she’d said she preferred.

He looked at the bed, the rustled sheets, and his clothes on the floor. She was definitely a woman worth spending time with, and he wanted to know more of her.

He sighed, leaning back on the bed, feeling the night with her.

Then he got up.

He dressed in fresh clothes and made his way downstairs, following the sound of voices to the breakfast room.

Milan sat at the table with papers spread before him, while Andrion was engaged in enthusiastically consuming what appeared to be his third helping of food.

”Ah, the hero awakens!”

Andrion called out when he saw Jolthar enter the room. He stood and clapped Jolthar on the shoulder with enough force, but Jolthar didn’t feel anything.

”Brother, I heard what happened last night. Assassins! Absolute carnage in the streets and you little quest in the bedroom. I heard her screams all the way to my room.”

His eyes were bright with excitement. ”I’m so proud of you and so disappointed I was too drunk to witness it.”

Milan shook his head, not looking up from his papers. ”You’re proud that he had to massacre an elite assassination team? That’s your takeaway from the situation?”

”Well, yes,” Andrion said matter-of-factly.

”Better they’re dead than him. Enough about them; tell me about the lady in your room last night. I woke up in the early morning hours; I heard her clearly.”

”Tell me about her.”

”It’s complicated,” Jolthar said, accepting a cup of coffee from a servant.

”She wishes for discretion.”

”Oh, woman of high status,” Andrion replied cheerfully.

Milan didn’t tell Andrion about the duchess, and not many had seen her in the night. Only Jolthar and Milan are aware of her entering the villa.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of organized footsteps came from the entrance hall. Multiple people, moving with military precision.

Milan looked up with curiosity as a servant hurried in.

”My lord, there are temple soldiers here to see you.”

”Temple soldiers?” Milan set down his papers and stood.

”Show them in.”

A moment later, six men entered the breakfast room. Five wore the distinctive armor of temple guards, polished steel with holy symbols etched into the metal. Leading them was a man in more elaborate attire that marked him as a Templar, one of the warrior-priests who served as both religious authority and military commanders within the temple hierarchy.

The Templar was perhaps forty, with a weathered face that suggested years of service and a bearing that commanded respect.

He walked up to the table where Milan was sitting. He bowed to Milan with precise formality next to Andrion.

”Prince Milan, I am Templar Veltaris, serving at the Grand Temple of Deity King Inadrys. I come bearing an invitation from the Chief Priest.”

”An invitation?” Milan replied politely.

”The temple is hosting a celebration this afternoon to honor the divine and seek blessings for the empire. We extend invitations to members of the imperial family, hoping they will grace us with their presence and, of course, contribute to the temple’s holy work.”

Jolthar looked confused as to why they had come, and seeing their attire and the level of power, they were certainly not weak people.

Andrion leaned over to Jolthar and whispered, not particularly quietly, ”What they really want is that they want money and are throwing a party to extract it from rich people.”

”And who better than the imperial family’s children.”

Milan shot his brother a look but maintained his diplomatic smile.

”What is the nature of this celebration?”

”A feast in the temple’s grand hall, followed by prayers and offerings to Lord Inadrys,” Templar Veltaris explained.

”Members of the nobility and prominent merchants will be in attendance. It’s an opportunity for fellowship, worship, and demonstrating devotion to the divine order.”

”I see,” Milan said.

He moved to a desk and withdrew a small pouch of gold coins, considerably more than a token amount but not so much as to seem ostentatious.

”Please accept this contribution to the temple’s work. As for attendance, I’ll need to consult my schedule.”

The Templar accepted the pouch with a bow.

”Your generosity is appreciated, Prince Milan. However, I should mention that the Chief Priest specifically requested your presence. And that of your companions—” his eyes flickered to Jolthar and Andrion ”—if they are willing.”

There was something in that last statement that suggested this wasn’t entirely optional. Milan caught it too, his expression becoming more guarded.

And Jolthar noticed that something was off when he said ”companions,” and the glance he gave towards them was odd.

”Then we would be honored to attend,” Milan said smoothly.

”What time should we arrive?”

”The feast begins at the second hour after noon,” Templar Veltaris replied.

”I will inform the Chief Priest to expect you.”

He bowed again, more deeply this time.

”May Lord Inadrys’s blessings be upon you.”

The temple soldiers departed with the same military precision they’d arrived with. Once they were gone, Milan’s diplomatic smile faded into a thoughtful frown.

”That was interesting,” he murmured.

”They basically summoned you,” Andrion observed.

”The ’invitation’ was pretty clearly a command.”

”And they specifically mentioned you both as well,” Milan added, looking at Jolthar.

”That’s unusual. Normally, these temple events target family members specifically, not their friends.”

”Should I be concerned?” Jolthar asked.

”Probably,” Milan replied honestly.

”But refusing would create problems. The temple has significant influence, and openly rejecting their invitation would be seen as disrespectful to the faith itself.”

Andrion stood and stretched. ”Well, at least there will be good food. Temple feasts are always excessive—they need to justify the donations they’re extracting, after all.”

”Your cynicism about religion is showing,” Milan said.

”I’m pragmatic, not cynical,” Andrion corrected.

”I acknowledge the divine exists—hard not to when deities occasionally walk around beating people up. But I also recognize that temples are political institutions wrapped in holy language.”

”Fair point,” Jolthar admitted.