Chapter 196 In search of his father

Words : 611 Updated : Oct 6th, 2025

Roblan clenched his fists. He couldn't tell whether Jolthar was brimming with confidence or drowning in arrogance. There was no doubt about his strength—Jolthar had already proven himself time and time again—but war was unpredictable. It wasn't about strength alone. Strategies, ambushes, and sheer numbers could overwhelm even the mightiest warriors. And not only that, the Empire could throw any number of tasks his way, and if he failed or faltered, it would mean not only his downfall but the barony's as well. Roblan then said, "Jolthar, I get that you're strong, but this is war. You don't even know what kind of battle you're walking into." Jolthar met his gaze, unwavering. "And neither do they." Roblan shook his head. "That's not the point! If they demand you do something impossible—" "I'll make it possible," he interrupted. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "You're impossible." Jolthar chuckled. "That's what makes me special." Roblan ran a hand through his hair. He didn't like this plan, not one bit. But what choice did they have? The barony had no soldiers to spare, and failing to meet the Empire's demand would invite disaster. After a long silence, he exhaled sharply. "Fine. But you better come back alive." Jolthar grinned. "I don't plan on dying anytime soon." As Myron made his way through the city's lively streets, the distant castle stood silent and oblivious to his arrival. - While Myron was searching for him, far in the castle, which loomed over the city, its towering spires and fortified walls a stark reminder of the power that governed this chaotic, vibrant place. The castle was both a symbol of authority and a sanctuary for those who ruled from its height. But tonight, within the castle's opulent chambers, power took on a different form. In the Count's private quarters, high in the tallest tower, beneath silk-draped canopies and the warm glow of golden candelabras, two figures lay entwined upon a grand bed. The room was lavish, adorned with rich tapestries, gilded furniture, and a bed draped in silks so fine they seemed to shimmer like liquid silver. The air was heavy with the scent of perfumed oils and the lingering warmth of passion. The woman's bare skin gleamed with the sheen of passion, her breath still heavy from their coupling. And the man beside her, resting against the embroidered pillows with an arm lazily draped over his forehead, was none other than Inadrys. Inadrys, the King of the Deities, ruler of Illumarhen, conqueror of hearts and bodies alike, lay upon the count's marriage bed without a shred of shame, his muscular frame relaxed against the plush pillows. His golden hair, streaked with silver, cascaded over his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Beside him, the Countess of Godeylet reclined, her head resting on his chest. She was a woman of striking beauty, her dark hair spilling like a river of ink across the sheets, her skin glowing in the soft light. Her lips, still slightly swollen from their kisses, curved into a sly smile as she traced idle patterns on Inadrys's chest with her fingertips. "You're quiet," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr. "Usually, you have so much to say. Or are you already thinking of how to leave me?" Inadrys chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to fill the room. "Leave you?" he said, his tone teasing. "Why would I leave when I've only just arrived? Besides, you're far too captivating to abandon so soon."

Chapter 196 In search of his father

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