The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 369: Can you defeat him?

Of course, the finance minister would have contingencies. When the trial didn’t go as planned, he’d summoned the one force that could actually threaten someone of Jolthar’s capabilities.

”He did his duty as a minister of the empire,” Tamnarasi replied.

”And now I will do mine. I don’t care about your trial, your charges, or whatever political games are being played. Your sole act of releasing that much power in the heart of Cahns’ar is itself a crime.

You threatened the peace and safety of the capital.”

”I threatened no one,” Jolthar said quietly.

”I made a point.”

”By shaking buildings and causing panic? By forcing thousands of people to their knees with your aura?”

Tamnarasi’s grip tightened on her sword.

”That is not a point. That is an attack on imperial stability.”

Cleora started to speak, but Raayani placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.

Both women understood that this situation had escalated beyond words. The Dreadmarchen answered only to the Emperor, and their commander was a princess who felt her authority and the empire itself had been challenged.

”Princess Tamnarasi,” Andrion said smoothly, stepping forward with his hands open in a gesture of peace.

”Perhaps we could discuss this more calmly? Baron Kaezhlar was provoked by—”

”I told you to buzz off,” Tamnarasi snapped without turning her head.

”This doesn’t concern you, Prince Andrion. Go back to your games and your sycophants.”

Andrion’s smile didn’t falter, but something cold flickered in his eyes. Being dismissed so publicly was a blow to his carefully cultivated image. Still, he was smart enough not to press the issue. The Dreadmarchen operated outside normal political hierarchies.

Milan was simply ignored entirely. Tamnarasi didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

”Princess,” Jolthar said, his voice taking on an edge, ”I will ask you once more. Do not point your sword at me.”

”Or what?” Tamnarasi’s arrogance was absolute. She had the Emperor’s authority, the Dreadmarchen at her back, and the confidence of someone who had never lost a fight.

”You’ll unleash your power again? Try it. Give me justification to execute you where you stand.”

The air between them began to change.

It started as a subtle tension, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

Then it intensified rapidly.

Tamnarasi’s aura manifested first, a crushing weight of disciplined power refined through years of training and combat. She was a Tier 9 knight, among the most powerful warriors in the empire. Her presence pressed outward like a physical force, and weaker individuals in the crowd stumbled or fell to their knees.

The Dreadmarchen knights behind her remained standing, but their hands went to their weapons, ready to support their commander.

Jolthar’s aura rose to meet hers.

But where Tamnarasi’s power was refined and controlled, Jolthar’s was vast and primal. It emerged like an ocean wave meeting a stone wall, overwhelming in its scope but held back by deliberate restraint. He was clearly limiting himself, holding back the full extent of what he could release.

Because if he didn’t, the entire district would be swept away.

The two auras clashed in the space between them.

The air itself seemed to distort, waves of pressure radiating outward. Cobblestones cracked beneath their feet. Windows in nearby buildings shattered. People in the plaza were forced back by the sheer force of the confrontation.

Tamnarasi’s eyes widened fractionally. She had expected resistance, but not this.

The young baron was matching her; no, he was holding back and still matching her.

What would happen if he stopped restraining himself?

”You’re stronger than I anticipated,” she admitted, her voice tight with effort.

”But strength alone won’t save you. I am the Emperor’s sword. I enforce his law. And you have broken it.”

”Your emperor’s law,” Jolthar replied, his voice calm despite the tremendous power he was channeling, ”was just used to prosecute me for stopping a monster. Forgive me if I don’t feel particularly bound by it.”

”Heresy,” Tamnarasi hissed.

”You dare—”

”I dare many things,” Jolthar interrupted.

”Including standing here and telling you that if you truly want to arrest me, you’ll have to do better than pointing a sword and making threats.”

The tension escalated further.

Tamnarasi was genuinely considering attacking; Jolthar could see it in her eyes. She was arrogant enough to believe she could win and proud enough to refuse backing down.

This was about to turn into a battle that would devastate the surrounding area.

Then a new voice cut through the confrontation, urgent and commanding.

”Princess Tamnarasi!

Stand down!”

A man pushed through the crowd, moving with the purposeful stride of someone used to authority. He was perhaps forty years old, wearing the robes of a high-ranking mage marked with military insignia. His face was weathered but sharp, his eyes taking in the situation with practiced assessment.

Wymar.

Jolthar recognized him immediately.

They had fought together in wars on the empire’s borders years ago. Wymar was a battle mage of considerable skill, attached to the army of Great General Remin, one of the empire’s most respected military leaders.

Wymar reached the base of the steps and immediately bowed to Princess Tamnarasi.

”Your Highness, please forgive my interruption, but I must speak with you urgently.”

Tamnarasi’s aura didn’t diminish, but she glanced at him with irritation.

”Sir Wymar. What are you doing here?”

”I sensed the power clash from across the city,” Wymar replied quickly.

”When I realized you were involved, I came as quickly as possible.”

He looked at Jolthar, and something passed between them: recognition, old respect, and perhaps a warning.

”Your Highness, may I ask what has provoked this confrontation?”

”This man,” Tamnarasi gestured with her sword, ”released dangerous power within the capital. He has defied the imperial court and threatened the peace of Cahns’ar. I am here to arrest him and bring him before the Emperor for judgment.”

Wymar’s expression became carefully neutral.

”I see. And has there been violence? Has anyone been harmed?”

”That’s irrelevant,” Tamnarasi snapped.

”The threat itself is sufficient grounds for—”

He gestured around them.

”We are in the middle of the capital, surrounded by civilians. If this confrontation continues, the damage will be catastrophic.”

”Then he should surrender peacefully,” Tamnarasi countered.

”And if he doesn’t?” Wymar asked.

”You’ve felt his power. Can you honestly say you can subdue him without destroying half this district?”