"The Jowaryan tribe," Jolthar repeated, recalling the name. He had read about them briefly during his stay at the Keep. Known for their independence and honour, they maintained strong ties with the Kaezhlar clan, the only clan connected to them as they were a discrete group.
Maena nodded. "The tribe is dealing with some issue they haven't specified in detail—likely a dispute or a local threat. You'll learn more when you arrive. Your job is to resolve it quickly and ensure the clan's relationship with the Jowaryans remains intact. They value respect and diplomacy, so keep that in mind."
Jolthar glanced at Eran, who was poised. "When do we leave?"
"Immediately," Maena replied, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"The Jowaryan chief requested urgency, and I trust you both can handle this without my supervision." She looked at Jolthar directly, her expression softening slightly.
With that, he followed Eran out of the room.
Jolthar informed Eran that he would meet him in two hours and went back to his room.
The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Jolthar's room, casting a soft golden hue across the floor.
Jolthar stretched lazily, still feeling the laziness in his bones. Today was another step in proving his worth, but for now, he indulged in one of his simple pleasures—a long, warm bath.
The bath chamber was already prepared when he arrived.
Jolthar thanked the butler inwardly. One of the things he liked about the clan was stomach-full meals and a diligent butler who would bring anything to his room.
Steam rose gently from the water, filling the room with a calming warmth. Jolthar eased himself into the tub, letting the heat seep into his skin. He leaned back against the smooth stone edge, his mind drifting as the water embraced him.
He thought about Maena's words, the mission ahead, and the drake—his drake, Maelruth. It was a strange feeling, knowing such a powerful creature had bonded with him, an added bonus.
For what felt like an eternity, Jolthar allowed himself to simply exist, his thoughts untethered as he savoured the rare moment of tranquillity. He was in no hurry.
When the water began to cool, he reluctantly pulled himself out, drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist.
By the time he returned to his room, breakfast was already laid out on the small table by the window. The ever-efficient butler had included his staple drink: a large glass of milk.
Still damp and clad only in his towel, Jolthar settled into the chair and began eating. The soft bread, fresh fruits, and cured meats were a perfect start to his day. He took slow sips of milk between bites, savouring the familiarity of his routine.
Once he finished, he dressed quickly in a practical but well-fitted outfit suitable for travel. He took the scabbard that lay on the nearby dresser, securing it at his waist.
Then headed out toward the pit where Maelruth was kept.
The pit was alive with activity as usual.
Men worked on maintaining the area, ensuring the beasts kept there were fed and secured. The source of thɪs content is n̷o̷v̷e̷l̷f̷i̷r̷e̷.net
He walked to the deeper cave in the pit where Maelruth was kept.
As Jolthar approached, Maelruth was devouring a large slab of meat, its powerful jaws tearing into the flesh with ease. The sight might have unnerved most, but to Jolthar, it was a reminder of the bond they had begun to forge.
Walking closer, he reached out and gently caressed the drake's scaled neck.
Maelruth paused its meal momentarily, letting out a low, rumbling growl—not of aggression but of contentment. Jolthar smiled, patting the beast affectionately. "You're a magnificent one, aren't you?" he murmured.
The workers nearby watched in awe.
Maelruth, who had once been a rampaging terror, now behaved with docility under Jolthar's touch. It was a sight that had become the talk of the estate, fuelling both admiration and envy.
Jolthar turned to the men standing nearby. "Prepare a saddle on its back. I'll be riding Maelruth today."
The workers exchanged glances, clearly impressed but a little hesitant.
One of them, an older man with a weathered face, spoke up. "Aye, sir. We'll get it done right away."
Within the hour, they had crafted a sturdy yet elegant saddle, complete with reinforced straps and a comfortable seat. The saddle was designed to fit Maelruth's powerful frame while ensuring Jolthar could ride securely.
Once it was ready, Jolthar climbed onto Maelruth's back. The drake shifted slightly under his weight but otherwise remained calm.
Jolthar adjusted the reins and leaned forward. "Let's show them what we can do," he said softly.
Maelruth let out a guttural growl and began moving, its powerful legs carrying them toward the front of the estate.
As they made their way, estate workers and residents stopped in their tracks, staring in astonishment. The same drake that had terrorized them not long ago now moved with quiet obedience, its rider commanding both respect and intrigue.
At the front of the estate, Eran waited near his horse, casually adjusting the straps of his saddle.
His sharp eyes caught sight of Jolthar and Maelruth long before they arrived. He watched with a mixture of surprise and amusement as the drake strode forward, its massive claws digging into the earth with each step. The sight of Jolthar atop the beast was undeniably impressive.
As they approached, Eran smirked. "Well, look at you, the new drake master. I guess milk does do the body good," he said sarcastically, his tone laced with mockery.
Eran knew about Jolthar's habit of drinking milk. And ever since their first mission, Eran treated Jolthar more like a friend than a young master of the clan. He admired the young swordman, who was different from the young lords he served.
Jolthar smirked back, unfazed. "Jealous, Eran? Or just surprised I've got more charisma than you'll ever have?"
Eran chuckled, shaking his head. "Charisma? Is that what they're calling it these days?" He stepped closer, giving Maelruth an appraising look. "I'll admit, it's impressive. Just don't let it go to your head—or your drake's, for that matter."