The Sinful Young Master

He saw the silhouettes of Elara riding Myron. There was a white layer covering the space between them. He watched her hesitantly, his body trembling from the sensation he was feeling.

On the bed, Elara and Myron's fevered embrace reached its peak. Orimus closed his eyes, his breathing shallow as he clasped his hands, standing there.

With a final grunt, she let out a cry and sighed heavily. He could see her figure moving up and bending down towards Myron as she kissed him and said, "My mighty warrior, you have my heart forever."

Then she got off the bed and walked into the front space where there were sofas.

Orimus was flustered as he was her, fully naked now. She walked to the sofas with no shame in her body or face. She flaunted her nakedness in front of Orimus, who couldn't seem to control himself now. He could see the white liquid dripping down her legs. Even her black bush was covered with droplets of Myron's seed.

Myron, now dressed, came out. He looked at Orimus, "Brother Orimus, I will take my leave now, so protect her while I'm away."

He kissed her forehead and walked out of the room. Orimus nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away from her.

Myron chuckled seeing Orimus unable to tear his gaze away from her. Myron knew how Elara was, and he knew how she liked to play with his emotions. Still, he loved her so much, and he loved her bad side.

He left the room, and while leaving, he patted Orimus' shoulder.

Elara leaned back in her seat, her naked body covered with sweat glistening in the dim light. She held a goblet of wine lazily in her hand, swirling its contents as her legs stretched onto the table before her. Her white skin, the bush amid her legs, and the slowly heaving bosom were all a seductive sight that he couldn't resist.

The light of the room glinted off her golden anklets, drawing attention to her slender but powerful frame.

Her gaze flickered toward Orimus, who stood near the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever. She gestured for him to come forward, and he did. He didn't know why he was moving, but he walked to her, still in a daze, staring at her. Her bosom was small but perfectly shaped, and she had enough muscle on her, not thick or too slim.

Orimus's gaze dropped down to the womanhood, which was covered in bush and still wet from the result of intimate action earlier.

She said, "Do you want to have me, Orimus?"

He suddenly lifted his head and looked her in the eye, as if he was shocked to hear her words.

"Hehe," she giggled, shaking her head, "not now, naughty boy, not now. After you help me tame Jolthar."

He dropped his head, as though he was disappointed to hear her.

"So," Elara began, her voice a blend of curiosity and disdain, "the woman. Where is she?"

Orimus, his eyes lingering on her just a moment too long, replied evenly, "She is here and ready to meet you."

Elara smirked, taking a long sip from her goblet before placing it back on the table.

"Good," she said, the word laced with an undertone of amusement. "I've been waiting."

-

Meanwhile, in the knights' quarters, Jolthar had retreated to his room after another long day.

His room was modest compared to the opulence of the main estate, but he didn't mind. It was leagues ahead of the shack he'd once called home, and he appreciated the simplicity of it. The stone walls, sturdy wooden furniture, and neatly made bed provided a sense of order and calm he found comforting.

After setting his belongings down and setting his blade, Knashii, at his bedside, Jolthar went into the bath room. The warm water awaited him like an old friend, and as he sank into it, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. The heat seeped into his muscles, unwinding the tension in his body and clearing his mind.

This is peace, he thought to himself, letting the steam envelop him.

The soothing sound of water lapping against the stone edges of the bath accompanied his thoughts as he reflected on recent events. The encounter with the lion, Myron's cryptic words, and the ever-watchful gaze of Lady Maena—all of it seemed to blend into a haze that the water gently washed away.

By the time he emerged, dried, and dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, his mind felt lighter. Hunger tugged at his stomach, and he made his way to the dining hall.

-
Continue your saga on empire

The dining hall was a vast space, designed to accommodate every knight, servant, and worker under the clan's banner. Long wooden tables stretched across the room, their surfaces worn smooth by years of use.

The air was filled with the hearty aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spiced broths, mingling with the chatter of those already seated.

Jolthar entered, his presence commanding attention despite his casual demeanour. Everyone in the hall was whispering upon his entrance. They heard about how he helped the mission to complete faster. The word did get spread faster as the knights who went along with Jolthar were singing his praises; after all, it was not something you would usually see. After the valley mission, the tribe sent a word to the clan, mentioning especially about Jolthar.

Right now, the name Jolthar was known to everyone in the clan. And there were whispers about him too, a bastard who doesn't even know his father. They were gossiping about his birth and his mother too.

Jolthar ignored the whispers, although he could hear them clearly.

Pascal, who entered the room, immediately noticed him and rushed over.

"Sir Jolthar," Pascal said, bowing slightly. "Your meal is ready, as per your instructions. Please, follow me."

Jolthar nodded, following the man to a smaller table set apart from the bustling crowd. Pascal had clearly gone out of his way to provide a more private dining experience for him.

As Jolthar sat, his meal was brought out. A plate of perfectly roasted meat, seasoned vegetables, and a loaf of freshly baked bread were set before him. Alongside it was a large jug of milk, just as he'd requested.

"Thank you," Jolthar said simply, already cutting into the meal with the precision of someone who cherished his food.

Pascal hovered for a moment before speaking again. "Sir Jolthar," he began cautiously, "the clan head has assigned you a personal maid."

Jolthar paused mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air.

"A maid?" he asked, his tone neutral but his brow furrowing slightly.

"Yes," Pascal replied, motioning toward the entrance.

A woman entered, walking with a quiet grace that commanded attention without effort.

She had a slender figure, but her curvaceous hips and full bosom were undeniable, even beneath her modest attire. Her black hair was tied back in neat braids, accentuating her sharp features and dark eyes. She bowed deeply to Jolthar, her movements fluid and respectful.

"This is Ilyra," Pascal said, introducing her. "She is to serve you from now on, as a reward for your recent success on the mission."

Jolthar's gaze shifted from Pascal to Ilyra, his sharp eyes studying her intently. She met his gaze without flinching, though there was a faint blush on her cheeks as she straightened from her bow.

"You're saying this is a reward?" Jolthar asked, his tone sceptical.

"Yes, Sir Jolthar. Lady Maena insisted," Pascal replied with a small, reassuring smile. "You are still a child of the clan, after all, and deserving of such recognition."

Jolthar leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he continued to scrutinize the situation. "I don't see why I need a maid," he said finally, his voice firm.

Pascal, however, was not easily dissuaded. "It is not just about need, Sir Jolthar. It is about what you've earned. Refusing such a reward would be an insult to the Lady herself."

"I can't always be there to tend to your needs," he said.

Jolthar sighed, his sharp wit kicking in as he realized there was no easy way to turn this down without offending someone.

"Fine," he said, at last, waving a hand dismissively. "But I expect her to stay out of my way unless I actually need her."

Pascal nodded, relief evident on his face. Ilyra bowed again, her voice soft as she spoke for the first time. "I will serve you to the best of my ability, young master."

Jolthar gave her a curt nod, turning his attention back to his meal. Pascal led Ilyra away to explain her duties in more detail, leaving Jolthar to eat in peace.

As he finished his meal, Jolthar couldn't help but feel a strange mix of annoyance and curiosity.

'So they want to keep a close eye on me now,' he thought.

For now, though, he pushed the thoughts aside. There would be time to unravel these questions later. For the moment, he would enjoy the quiet solace of his meal and the fleeting sense of normalcy it brought.