The Sinful Young Master

Cleora blinked, caught off guard by the ambition in his tone. "A forge of that scale?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "Jolthar, that's not a small undertaking. It would require skilled professionals, a large workforce, and an enormous amount of gold to fund it. Where do you expect to find the resources for such an endeavour?"

Jolthar's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "I have a plan," he said cryptically, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

Cleora tilted her head slightly, curiosity evident in her eyes. "And what, pray tell, is this plan of yours?"

Before Jolthar could elaborate, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the compartment.

A moment later, Roblan burst into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

"Mother! Mother!" he called, his voice trembling.

Cleora immediately stood, her calm demeanour replaced by concern. "Roblan, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked, moving toward her son.

Roblan stammered, struggling to find his words. "It's the banners… the banners of Chittera Province! Scouts spotted them not far from the southwest border of the barony!"

Jolthar furrowed his brow at the mention of Chittera Province. "Chittera?" he repeated, his tone laced with scepticism.

"Weren't they just a small region governed by a council of lords? What in the world are they doing here, on imperial lands?"

Roblan, still catching his breath, nodded quickly. "That's what we thought too. But the scouts reported something troubling. They're armed—heavily armed—and they look like they're prepared for battle."

Cleora's face turned serious, her brow knitting as she processed the information. "We can't be sure of their intentions yet," she said calmly, though her voice carried an undertone of tension. "We can't afford to jump to conclusions. The first step is to speak with them directly and understand their purpose here."

Jolthar leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he considered the situation. His expression darkened as memories and knowledge of Chittera Province resurfaced in his mind. "Chittera," he said quietly, his voice thoughtful. "I've heard of them. A region unlike any other—a council of lords, independent of the Empire, self-governing and fiercely proud of it. They've always kept to themselves, haven't they?"

Cleora nodded. "Yes. Chittera has always operated as a separate entity. They have no allegiance to the Empire or its laws. They exist on the periphery, neither hostile nor friendly to the Empire."

Jolthar's eyes narrowed as he continued, "But there's more to them than just independence. They're said to be descended from ogres, aren't they? Their warriors are renowned for their strength and resilience. Ogre blood runs through their veins, and even if their numbers are small, they're no ordinary fighters. If they're here, armed and ready, it's not without reason."

Jolthar read about them during his stay at the Keep. Though they appear human, they are the descendants of ogres.

Cleora exchanged a quick glance with Jolthar, her expression both serious and concerned. "That's true," she admitted. "Their warriors are said to be formidable. If Chittera's lords have brought an armed force into the Empire's lands, there must be something behind it. But we can't assume hostility without evidence. I won't let fear dictate our actions."

Roblan, still visibly shaken, interjected. "Mother, the scouts said they weren't trying to hide their presence. They're flying their banners openly and marching in formation. Whatever their reason for being here, they're making sure we see them."

Cleora sighed, a heavy weight settling on her shoulders. "If they're marching openly, they might want to send a message. But whether it's a warning, a challenge, or a request, we won't know until we speak to them."

Jolthar's lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained sharp. "Based on what we know of them, they aren't reckless to act without purpose. If they are just parading, they're testing us," he said. "Or, at the very least, they want to see how we'll respond. If we act weak, they'll walk all over us. If we act too aggressively, it could provoke a fight we're not ready for. This needs to be handled carefully."

Cleora nodded in agreement. "Precisely. We'll send an envoy to speak with them—a gesture of diplomacy to show that we're willing to communicate. But at the same time, we need to prepare. We can't be caught off guard if they're here to fight."

Roblan looked between them, his anxiety still apparent but tempered by the steady resolve in his mother's voice. "What should I do, Mother?" he asked.
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Cleora placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "I need you to oversee the scouts and gather as much information as possible: their numbers, their leaders, their movements—everything. And make sure the garrison is prepared. We need to be ready for any possibility."

Roblan nodded, determination flickering in his eyes despite his earlier fear. "I'll get on it right away," he said before turning and hurrying out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, Jolthar turned back to Cleora. "You've dealt with situations like this before, haven't you?" he asked, his tone light but with a hint of admiration.

Cleora gave him a small smile, though her eyes remained focused and serious. "I've dealt with my fair share of challenges. But this… this is different. Chittera isn't like any other threat we've faced. If we're not careful, this could spiral into something far worse than just a border dispute."

Jolthar nodded, his expression turning grim. "You're right. But I have a feeling this is more than just a show of strength. They have a purpose for being here, and we need to figure out what it is before it's too late."

Cleora glanced at him, her gaze steady. "And you? What's your role in all this, Jolthar? You came here as a stranger, and now you're entangled in the affairs of this barony. What do you intend to do?"

Jolthar met her gaze, his usual smirk replaced by a rare seriousness. "I'll do what needs to be done," he said simply. "For now, that means standing by your side and making sure this barony doesn't fall to chaos."

Cleora nodded, a small glimmer of trust in her eyes. "Then let's make sure it doesn't," she said firmly.