The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 448: What’s your desire?

The shadow moved closer to Segarus’s desk, and the Patriarch actually recoiled slightly despite his attempts at composure.

“I made you what you are, Segarus. And I can unmake you just as easily. The choice is simple—eliminate Jolthar Kaezhlar soon, through whatever means you can arrange, or discover what happens when my patience with ineffective tools is exhausted.”

“How much time do I have?” Segarus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Not much,” the shadow replied.

“Weeks, perhaps a month or two at most. Use your son-in-law’s vendetta, use your connections in the capital and use whatever dark contracts you can arrange. But get it done. Because if Kaezhlar continues to grow unchecked, he will eventually become a threat not just to our plans but to forces far beyond your comprehension.”

The presence began to fade, the darkness withdrawing and the temperature slowly returning to normal. But before it disappeared entirely, the shadow delivered one final warning.

“And Segarus? Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can escape from me or seek protection from the empire. The moment you betray our arrangement, you lose everything—your power, your position, your life, and the lives of everyone you care about. The only path forward is the one I’ve shown you. Walk it, or be destroyed.”

Then it was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

Segarus sat alone in his study, the frost on the windows already melting, the shadows returning to their normal shapes. But his hands were shaking as he picked up his pen again, and when he tried to write, the characters came out jagged and unsteady.

A dark mood settled over the room—a heaviness that had nothing to do with temperature or light but with the weight of decisions that offered no good outcomes, only varying degrees of terrible ones.

He had allied himself with forces that demanded action he wasn’t certain he could safely take. But refusing those forces would mean destruction just as certainly as moving against Jolthar Kaezhlar might.

Trapped between impossible choices, Patriarch Segarus sat in his study and tried to determine which path would destroy him more slowly.

*

The sky vessel cut through clouds like a knife through silk, leaving trails of dissipating mist in its wake. The world below had transformed into a patchwork quilt of greens and browns, rivers appearing as silver threads and cities reduced to symmetrical patterns that looked more like children’s toys than centers of human civilization.

The sight from above was something he had not seen for a while.

Jolthar stood at the deck’s railing, his hands resting on the smooth wood that seemed to hum with the magical energies propelling the ship forward. The wind whipped his hair back, carrying the clean scent of high altitude air untainted by the smoke and smells of ground-level existence. There was something deeply peaceful about being this far removed from the world below, suspended between earth and heaven with nothing but open sky in all directions.

It brought him a sense of calmness, staring at the little world below.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind and recognized Haryntha’s presence before she spoke—her divine nature created subtle distortions in the ambient energy that his enhanced senses could detect.

“You’ve been standing out here for over an hour,” Haryntha said, moving to stand beside him at the railing.

“Most people get dizzy or frightened this high up. You seem… contemplative.”

“I’m appreciating the view from here,” Jolthar replied, gesturing to the landscape far below.

“Up here, all the conflicts and politics and schemes seem small and distant. Just patterns on a map rather than life-or-death struggles that consume people’s entire existence.”

Haryntha studied him with those intense eyes that seemed to see more than surface appearances.

“That’s an interesting observation for someone who’s been at the center of so many of those conflicts recently. Most people in your position would be obsessing over enemies and allies, planning next moves and countermoves.”

“I do plenty of that too,” Jolthar admitted with a slight smile.

“But occasionally it’s useful to step back and remember that there’s more to existence than constant battle and maneuvering. Even if just for an hour.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching clouds drift past the ship’s hull.

Then Haryntha spoke again, her tone shifting to something more probing.

“What are your desires, Jolthar? Beyond surviving the Dreadland Depths and earning your pardon, what do you actually want? What drives you to keep fighting when most people would have submitted or fled long ago?”

Jolthar considered the question, his expression thoughtful.

“That’s a complicated question with complicated answers.”

“We have time,” Haryntha pointed out.

“The journey to the Dreadland Depths takes several more hours even at this speed. Indulge my curiosity.”

“Why do you want to know?” Jolthar countered, turning to look at her directly.

“Because I’m trying to understand what makes you different,” Haryntha replied honestly.

“I’ve observed many exceptional individuals over the years—warriors, leaders, those touched by divine power or born with extraordinary gifts. Most of them follow predictable patterns. They want power for its own sake or revenge for past wrongs or to prove themselves superior to others.

You don’t quite fit those molds, which makes you interesting.”

Jolthar leaned back against the railing, his posture relaxed despite the serious topic. He didn’t hold back on her; its just that he didn’t care if she learned about him.

“I want… I want to build something that lasts. Something good. Tekkora was just the beginning—transforming a dying village into a place where people can actually thrive, where justice means something more than which noble has more influence. I want to prove that’s possible on a larger scale.”

“That’s admirably idealistic,” Haryntha observed.

“And vague enough to avoid committing to specifics.”

“Probably because I haven’t figured out all the specifics yet,” Jolthar admitted with a slight laugh. “I’m making this up as I go, reacting to situations as they develop rather than following some grand master plan.”

“And in the immediate future? What do you want from the next week, the next month?”

“To survive the Dreadland Depths,” Jolthar said immediately.