The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 44

"I'm just having a little chat with my Elara, is that a crime? Know your place, wenches. Out of my way!" Lysander roughly shoved them aside.

"Young Lord, the lady is still a child..."

A handmaiden barely got the words out before Lysander backhanded her across the face. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

The other dancers moved to intervene, but the Azure Sky Initiates in the pavilion immediately closed in. "Thinking of staging a rebellion? If you don't care about your own lives, think about the two hundred thousand thralls rotting in the mines."

That single sentence was a death grip on their throats. The women lowered their heads, their eyes brimming with furious tears.

House Stormridge already carried the crushing guilt of dragging The Stormhold Citadel into this hell. They couldn't bear the thought of causing the citizens even more torment over their own defiance.

Kaelen, having sneaked into the shadows of the pavilion, watched it all unfold. His fists were clenched so hard his knuckles bled, desperately suffocating his rage.

Captain Tyrus had never told him that the women of House Stormridge were forced to serve as personal slaves in this estate, enduring such vile humiliation!

His sister had never mentioned she was treated like a plaything!

This so-called 'Young Lord' was nothing more than a Prime Initiate of the Sanctum. He was the grandson of Elder Malakor, a ruthless fanatic loyal to the Grand Elder who had recently been stationed here. Lysander had mediocre talent and pathetic combat strength; back at the Sanctum, he was a nobody. But here, riding his grandfather's coattails, he acted like a tyrant god.

"Move!" Lysander sneered contemptuously.

The women stood frozen, refusing to yield. It was Elara who finally gently pushed past them. "Go back to your quarters. I'll stay."

"My lady!" They grabbed Elara's arms, shaking their heads frantically.

"He wouldn't dare do anything extreme. You're all exhausted. Go back."

"Guards, drag these wenches out." Lysander stumbled backward, collapsing onto his opulent divan. "Little Elara, come massage your lord's legs."

Elara persuaded the loyal women to leave, remaining behind alone.

"Are you deaf? I said, massage my legs." Lysander stretched out, making himself violently comfortable.

Swallowing her humiliation, Elara approached with slow, hesitant steps.

"Pour me a drink first." Lysander held out the wine decanter.

Just as Elara reached for it, Lysander suddenly lunged, grabbing her wrist.

"What are you doing?!" Elara yanked her arm back as if she had touched molten iron. The jade-porcelain decanter slipped and shattered into pieces against the stone floor.

Lysander raised an eyebrow, nudging the shards with his boot. He casually picked up a piece. "Do you have any idea how much this decanter is worth? At least ten Mid-Grade Aetherium Crystals."

"Liar!"

"I decide the price here. Are you going to pay for it? Because if you don't..."

"What are you threatening this time?"

"The usual. Starting tomorrow, all five mines work an extra hour. Every day, for thirty days."

"I'll pay!" Tears welled in Elara's eyes.

"Pay? Heh, can you even afford it? The total wages for your entire House for a year wouldn't buy a single Mid-Grade Aetherium Crystal. How are you going to pay?" Lysander reached for her hand again.

"Get away from me, you pig!" Elara stumbled backward in panic.

"Yeah, I'm a pig. Heh, and what are you gonna do about it? Ten Mid-Grade crystals. Can you pay?"

"Yes!"

"Oh? Where are you getting the Aetherium? Has House Stormridge been smuggling?"

"What exactly do you want from me?"

Lysander slowly sat up. "What do I want? I think you know exactly what I want."

"Stay away from me."

"Relax, I won't eat you just yet. I need to let you ripen for another two years. Come here, let me just give you a hug."

Watching from the dark, Kaelen's vision went completely red. He surged with Aether, preparing to draw his blade and slaughter the room.

Suddenly, a massive crash echoed from the front gates. A heavily armed squad stormed straight into the courtyard.

"Young Lord! Captain Tyrus and his men just breached the gates!" an Initiate reported frantically.

"Took him long enough." Lysander lazily slumped back onto his divan. This wasn't the first time he had harassed Elara, and Tyrus always rushed in to play the hero. He was used to it.

"I saw it. Is that a problem?"

"Yes. It is." Tyrus shielded Elara and walked out. The guards followed, their eyes burning with unvented fury. They had swallowed this poison too many times. Every time the Guard lost control, the price was paid in the flesh of two hundred thousand innocent thralls. Over time, they had learned to swallow their pride to protect their people. As long as the Sanctum didn't cross the ultimate line, they would endure.

"I'll be stationed here for at least three to five years! We have plenty of time to play!" Lysander shouted after them, laughing.

Tyrus escorted Elara and the women back to their bleak courtyard, where Elena and the others rushed out to meet them.

Elena pulled Elara into a tight embrace, whispering soothing words.

The other women exchanged hollow words of comfort before silently trudging back to their cramped hovels. There was no wailing, no dramatic sorrow. Only a suffocating, paralyzing numbness.

They had to be up before dawn for the labor camps. They needed every second of sleep they could get.

"Who's there! Show yourself!" Tyrus suddenly sensed a presence in the pitch-black corner near the wall. His aura flared, radiating lethal intent.

An intruder? The Stormridge Guard immediately swarmed into the courtyard, drawing steel. The women huddled together in terror. Another Sanctum Initiate? Had they not suffered enough for one night?!

"Step out!" Tyrus roared.

From the shadows, Kaelen wiped the moisture from his eyes and slowly stepped into the moonlight.

"Who are you? Who gave you permission to breach this compound?" The guards leveled their blades at him.

"Stand down!" Tyrus suddenly commanded, his eyes widening in absolute shock as he stared at the youth. "Young lord? Is... is that you?"

"Young lord?" The entire courtyard froze, staring at Tyrus.

"Brother!" Elara gasped, covering her mouth with her trembling hands, unable to believe her eyes.

Kaelen had wiped his tears, but his lips quivered uncontrollably, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. He forced a brilliant smile. "I'm home."

"Young lord... it really is you." Tyrus snapped out of his daze, immediately barking orders. "Lock down the perimeter! No one enters! If anyone approaches, kill them!"

The guards just stared at Kaelen in a trance until Tyrus roared the order a second time. Then, they snapped to attention and bolted for the gates. The Young Lord? The Young Lord had returned! How was he here?!

"Kaelen?" Elena whispered, her voice fragile and shaking, almost afraid to step forward.

"Brother!" Elara cried out in pure joy, tears streaming down her face as she threw herself into Kaelen's arms, hugging him as tightly as she could, terrified this was all just a beautiful dream.