The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 79 Trail left behind

They set up a small campfire to withhold against the desert cold. The men weren't ready to chase after Daurgien, and he was already gone, disappeared into the night.

The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows over the gathered group. The air was thick with tension as Jolthar stood before Daus, his piercing gaze unwavering.

The elder's shoulders slumped, weariness etched into his face, not just from the fight but from the weight of the truth he had carried for decades.

Jolthar broke the silence, his voice cold and steady. "I think you owe us an explanation, Jarl Daus."

Daus hesitated, his eyes darting to Sgard and men of his tribe. Sgard, who had stayed behind during the battle, was now helping the warriors. Around them, the tribe's warriors nursed their own injuries, their faces grim but relieved to be alive.

At Jolthar's words, Daus let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I know him. Daurgien... He was my brother."

The admission sent a ripple of surprise through the group. Lysandra and Sgard exchanged stunned glances, while the knights stiffened, their expressions darkening.

Jolthar remained neutral, his arms crossed over his chest. "Your brother?" he repeated, though his tone held no surprise. "Go on."

Your journey continues with empire

Daus rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion evident. "It was decades ago," he began.

"Daurgien was next in line to become Jarl. My father chose him, despite me being the elder son. He believed I was unfit to lead... thought I was too irresponsible because of my drinking habits. I was angry, humiliated. I thought I deserved the position more than him."

He paused, glancing up at Jolthar as if gauging his reaction. Jolthar's face remained impassive, his sharp gaze boring into Daus. "And?"

Daus hesitated, his voice faltering. "I... I made him leave the valley. I convinced my father—"

Jolthar's tone cut through like a blade. "Don't lie to me, Daus. You're holding something back."

His expression hardened, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "I don't care about your petty squabbles or your past grievances. But if you don't tell me the truth right now, we will leave. And then you can deal with Daurgien alone."

The threat hung in the air, and Daus's resolve crumbled. His gaze shifted to Sgard and Lysandra and then to the warriors who now looked at him with suspicion. Realising he had no choice, he straightened, though his face was pale.

"Fine," Daus said, his voice low and filled with regret. "I'll tell you everything."

-

Despite his exhaustion, he moved away from the crowd as he looked around for any trace of Daurgien; he followed in the direction where Daurgien escaped.

Jolthar's sharp eyes hadn't missed a crucial detail. The faint traces of a viscous, dark liquid glistened on the ground—a trail left behind by Daurgien's wounded form. It was faint, but unmistakable, and it oozed with a malevolent energy that made Jolthar's skin crawl.

"Daurgien's blood..." he muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes as he studied the path.

-

Jolthar stood at the edge of the group, his sharp eyes scanning the ground in the dim torchlight. His drake, Maelruth, shifted beside him, snorting softly.

The faint trail of blood he had tracked through the desert sands was growing harder to follow, but his instincts and his sight were able to help him focus on the faint traces of the blood as it was corrupted by gods blood.

Turning to the group, he announced, "I've found a trail. It's faint, but it's there. If we follow it, we might find where Daurgien is hiding."

The warriors, weary from the battle with the scorpions, exchanged uncertain glances. Some looked at Daus, who sat apart from them, tending to his wounds, his face shadowed with guilt and exhaustion. Others looked to Jolthar, whose commanding presence and decisive actions had begun to overshadow their leader's authority.

Once preparations were complete, the group followed Jolthar, with Maelruth leading the way. The drake's powerful strides made navigating the shifting dunes easier for the group, though the oppressive silence of the desert night seemed to weigh heavier on their spirits.

-

Among them was Belan, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. She had always prided herself on her strength and skill, but seeing Jolthar in action had shaken her to the core. His power was not natural—it was something more, something divine.

Daurgien's mocking words still rang in her ears: "Do you think your goddess would approve of this?"

Belan was now certain Jolthar carried a goddess's blessing. That explained his incredible prowess in battle, the unearthly bond he shared with Maelruth, and the unwavering aura of confidence he exuded. But the revelation only hardened her resolve. If Jolthar was truly blessed by a goddess, then she needs to grow even more stronger than him.

Her desire to grow stronger burned brighter than ever, fuelled by the jealousy and admiration Jolthar inspired. In her heart, she made a vow: she would surpass him, even if it meant striking him down.

-

The group pressed on through the night, their torches casting long, flickering shadows over the dunes. Eventually, the blood trail led them to a canyon, its jagged walls looming ominously in the moonlight. The group descended cautiously, their footsteps echoing faintly in the still air.

The oppressive darkness seemed to close in as they walked deeper.

At the bottom of the canyon, they found a narrow tunnel. The trail of blood led them inside, and though the space was cramped, the group squeezed through, their weapons drawn and their senses alert. The space was narrow and long enough to make them feel cramped. The drake had a hard time moving through the narrow space. But Jolthar guided the drake through the tunnel.