The halls were adorned with intricate tapestries and flickering lanterns that cast long shadows along the walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and faint traces of incense.
Lady Maena's office chambers were on the west side of the estate, guarded by two stern-faced knights.
They stepped aside, allowing Jolthar and Eran to enter the room.
Lady Maena was seated at a polished ebony desk, her presence commanding as always. Her piercing eyes flicked up from the parchment she was reading, locking onto Jolthar and Eran as they entered.
"You've returned," she said, her voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. Thɪs chapter is updated by n0velfire.net
Eran stepped forward, giving a succinct account of their journey, the encounter with the deity, and he narrated the whole thing that happened in the valley.
As Eran spoke, Jolthar's gaze wandered around the room, noting the subtle changes in Lady Maena's demeanor. Her expression was calm, but her fingers tapped lightly against the desk—a sign of deep contemplation.
When Eran finished, Lady Maena turned her attention to Jolthar. "And you, Jolthar? Do you have anything to add?"
Jolthar met her gaze evenly. "No significant details beyond what Eran mentioned," he replied smoothly.
"Though the encounter with the Blue Rose matriarch was... illuminating."
Lady Maena arched an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Very well. Rest for now. There will be more tasks soon enough."
As they turned to leave, Lady Maena's voice stopped them. "And Jolthar?"
He paused, glancing back.
"Keep your wits about you," she said, her tone carrying a note of caution.
"You're walking a fine line."
Jolthar smirked, his sharp wit glinting in his eyes. "A fine line is where I'm most comfortable, my lady."
Lady Maena didn't respond. She just looking at him, he seemed different now; his aura was now more refined and uniform, like it was an extension of his being. She was surprised to find this. His presence radiated power, and there was a certain glow to him that she couldn't tell what it was.
She then said, "You may leave now and stop talking back to people. Not all of them are merciful like me."
Jaegar stood there, staring at her for a few seconds, his face blank. Merciful?
'Was she thinking that she was being merciful, or was the clan thinking that they were being merciful towards me?' He thought to himself.
Then he turned and left the room, leaving the two of them. He looked at Eran and thought inwardly, 'Now bitch about me, shrimp dick.'
Jolthar was aware of Eran and his little report of him to Maena, and he was also aware of her keeping an eye on him. The word merciful struck a nerve within him.
'Just because of me playing your little clan child, you think you own me. Merciful! It is I who should be merciful. Fuck! These dimwits are so annoying. I need to get strong faster,' he talked to himself as he walked out of the room.
Jolthar sighed as he stepped out of the room, feeling relaxed. "I need my milk urgently."
After Jolthar left the chamber, his footsteps echoing down the grand hall, Lady Maena watched the door close behind him, her expression unreadable.
Jolthar's blank, almost indifferent look lingered in her mind. His behaviour was peculiar, layered with a calmness that seemed too calculated for someone his age. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers, and let out a soft sigh.
Turning to Eran, who stood waiting by the side, she asked, "So, this deity… what do you think she spoke to him about?"
Eran, his posture relaxed yet attentive, shook his head. "Jolthar didn't say much. He rarely does when it comes to such matters. But we had this… strange encounter in the Aldaerin Woods.
There was a lion, a beast like no other, and then Jolthar's aura—" Eran hesitated, searching for the right words, "—it flared up like bursting flames. I can't seem to comprehend his level of power. I felt like I was watching a power storm with no limit. To describe it simply, I felt like he was tierless."
Maena raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Tierless? That's not something you say lightly, Eran."
"I know," Eran admitted, his tone laced with uncertainty. "From everything I've seen, he should be Tier 5, maybe edging towards Tier 6. But this—this was different. It was as if his strength had transcended levels altogether. His aura and power were… immeasurable like they existed outside the scale we use to judge strength."
"So, he's grown stronger," Maena mused, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. "Do you think the deity is responsible for this?"
Eran replied, thinking for a moment, "No, I don't think so; she was too weak to even tend to herself. But she did seem a little better after they came out of the shrine."
Maena thought about the tribe; they were unique, and their deity, as far as she knew, wasn't that well known in the realm. Maybe the shrine held any secrets, she thought to herself.
"And his behaviour? What do you make of it?" She asked him about Jolthar and how he acted around them.
Eran chuckled lightly. "From what I've observed, Jolthar seems like a nice kid—a kid who's more interested in swords and food than anything else. He fools around, focused on nothing else but honing his blade and satisfying his appetite. That's all I can tell."
Maena's lips curled into a knowing smile. "And the matter with the matriarch? It seems she's taken quite the interest in him."
Eran smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Oh, she certainly does. She wants him in her favour, perhaps even more than that. But Jolthar… he refused her."
That caught Maena off guard, her eyes widening slightly. "Refused her? The matriarch of the Blue Rose? She's renowned for her beauty. Every man desires even a fleeting moment of her attention. Why would he say no?"
Eran shrugged. "Like I said, he's a kid who loves his sword more than women. Her charm doesn't seem to work on him, at least not the way it does on others."
Maena laughed softly, the sound echoing in the quiet chamber. "Fascinating. A man immune to the allure of a woman like her... That's rare indeed.
Keep an eye on him, Eran. Report back even the slightest change in him."
Eran bowed deeply, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "As you command, my lady." He turned on his heel and left the room, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Left alone in the chamber, Maena leaned back in her chair, her mind swirling with thoughts about Jolthar. There was something enigmatic about him, something that didn't quite align with the persona he portrayed. He acted like a carefree boy, obsessed with swords and devoid of greater ambition, but Maena couldn't shake the feeling that it was all an act.
She tapped her fingers on the polished armrest of her chair, her gaze drifting toward the window where the faint glow of the light spilled into the room.
"This cheeky behaviour, this obsession with the sword," she murmured to herself, "is it real? Or is it a mask?"
Her thoughts turned darker, her brows furrowing. "Could he have forgotten everything? The pain, the hatred? The desire for revenge?"
For a moment, Maena allowed herself to wonder about the boy's past. The man he was now seemed far removed from the boy who might have once sought vengeance.
"Or has he simply grown cleverer?" she muttered, a flicker of doubt creeping into her voice.
The strength he displayed, the aura that Eran described, and his strange interactions with beings like the lion in Aldaerin Woods—these were not the traits of someone content with a simple life.
Jolthar was playing a game; she was certain of it.
But what game, and for what purpose?
Maena's lips curled into a faint smile, equal parts admiration and caution. "You're a fascinating one, Jolthar," she whispered to the empty room. "But no one can wear a mask forever. One day, the truth will surface. And when it does, I'll be watching."
Then her thoughts went back to the lion mentioned, the red flaming lion; she repeated the name, as she felt like she had heard the name before. She made a mental note to talk to the elders about the lion; maybe they would have an idea about the creature.
Eran and she knew only that it wasn't a normal creature, but they had no idea about its depth in the woods.
For now, she just thought of Jolthar.
Inside the estate, deep into the hallways, Jolthar had talked to Pascal and told him to bring him milk, and he gave him the meat of the boar they hunted and told his usual style of dish he liked to eat.
He was now on his way to his room, which was now inside the estate. He turned into another long hallway and saw Elara coming towards him.
He frowned, seeing her stopped in her tracks in front of him. He looked at her, raised an eyebrow, and a thin line formed on his lips.