The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 206 Why didnʼt you kill him?

With remarkable composure for one so young, Jolthar simply guided his drake toward the stable exit. He had no reason to stay here any longer either, but he didnʼt expect the count to let him leave so simply without much scrutiny. He seemed to believe what Jolthar had said.

Myron followed, silent until they were well clear of the building.

”That was surprising,” Myron finally spoke, his voice carrying a note of genuine shock. ”I thought he would kill you.”

Joltharʼs response was casual, almost dismissive. ”Yeah, that man I killed, he was from the castle or something. Whatever, less damage to deal with.”

Myron was startled as he said, ”What? Then why did the count not react?”

”Who cares? He told me to leave, and I did.”

He turned to Myron, changing the subject. ”So I will be leaving to meet Wymar. Where will you go?”

Myron fell silent, considering his response carefully. ”I came here on some personal business,” he finally offered.

”Oh? What business would that be?” Joltharʼs curiosity was evident.

Myronʼs hesitation was palpable before he finally answered, ”I came looking here for my father.”

The revelation caught Jolthar off guard, his brow furrowing in confusion. ”Your father?” he asked, then his eyes widened with recognition. ”You mean Inadrys?”

The name hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications.

-

Myron nodded slowly, the simple gesture carrying the weight of years of searching. The bustle of the night city continued around them, oblivious to the gravity of their conversation.

”Is that so?” Jolthar mused, studying Myron with renewed interest. ”Why do you think that he is here?” He didnʼt expect a mighty figure like him was go around searching for his father.

He doesnʼt look the type, though.

”Well, I heard he was here and came looking for him.” Myronʼs voice carried a hint of frustration born from fruitless searching.

”But I didnʼt know where to look or who to ask.” He glanced at Jolthar, making a split-second decision that after witnessing the young manʼs extraordinary battle, sharing this information seemed inconsequential. Besides, his own searches had led nowhere—perhaps a fresh perspective might yield better results.

Jolthar fell silent, his expression thoughtful as he processed this information. The drake beside him shifted restlessly, sensing its riderʼs contemplation.

Finally, he spoke, ”You should ask that count back there. Tell him who you are, and I am sure he will give you the answer you want.”

”Why?” Myronʼs confusion was evident in both his voice and furrowed brow.

Joltharʼs response came with the casual delivery of one sharing common gossip, but his words landed like thunder. ”I donʼt know for sure, but there is a rumour in the city that his wife is sleeping with Inadrys.”

This was the interesting news he got back when he talked with the women back in the tavern. One of the girls worked in the castle and heard from the maidservants of the lady count. He thought it was just a simple rumour, but hearing Myron, maybe it was true.

The shock hit Myron like a physical blow. His face paled, and his hands clenched involuntarily at his sides. The implications of this information cascaded through his mind—not just the possibility of locating his father, but the complicated web of politics and scandal that surrounded him. The man he had been searching for was not just present in the city but embroiled in an affair with the Countʼs wife.

The night air suddenly felt colder, and the shadows cast by the cityʼs lanterns seemed deeper. What had started as a simple search for a long-lost father had just become infinitely more complex, touching the highest levels of local nobility and threatening to explode into scandal at any moment.

—— ∗ ——

Back at the castle,

Count Hamen walked through the grand halls of his castle, his expression as unreadable as ever. The encounter with Jolthar and the aftermath of Remonʼs death weighed heavily on his mind, though he showed no outward sign of it.

As he entered the private chambers he shared with his wife, Evelyne, he was met with a storm of fury. It was for this reason he had been worrying about. Remon was her brother, and she loved him very much because she had no children of her own; she treated him as one.

They just came, cremating her brother.

Evelyne stood in the centre of the room, her face flushed with anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her dark hair was dishevelled, and her eyes burned with a mixture of grief and rage. The moment she saw Hamen, she launched into a tirade.

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She heard the news of what happened at the stables and how the count had let him go.

She had been crying so hard that her eyes became red, and the image of her brother with his hands cut still flashed before her eyes.

”How could you let him go?” she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. ”That man—that monster—killed my brother! Remon is dead, Hamen! Dead! And you just stood there and let that man walk away as if nothing happened!”

Hamen stopped a few feet away from her, his expression calm but his eyes cold. ”Evelyne,” he said, his voice steady, ”Remon brought this upon himself. He should never have used that power. He should never have tried to tame those beasts. His greed and recklessness led to his downfall.”

Evelyneʼs eyes widened in disbelief. ”Are you seriously blaming him for this?” she demanded. ”That no-name bastard is the one who killed my brother! He cut him down like an animal! And you did nothing to stop him!”

Hamenʼs jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. ”That young man acted in defence to protect himself,” he said. ”If he hadnʼt killed him, I would have done it. He didnʼt know what he was dealing with. That power should have brought all those beasts into the county.”

”Remonʼs actions threatened us all. If Jolthar hadnʼt stopped him, who knows how much damage he would have caused?”