Interrupting Cleora in such a mont would only earn her wrath, and he knew better than to provoke it.
A mont later, Nora happened to pass by.
At first, she didn’t register the sounds—until she stopped, caught in the middle of the hallway. Her face flushed deep red as realization dawned. With wide eyes and stiff movents, she turned on her heel and bolted away, her footsteps retreating rapidly down the corridor.
-
Not knowing what’s happening outside, Jolthar kept on pounding her pussy far longer. Cleora’s face was a mix of pure agony and desire, and she clutched onto the sheets, moaning at the top of her lungs, not giving a damn about anything past the chamber doors.
Jolthar could feel her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him as she neared her climax. He increased his pace, his body slamming into hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Cleora’s moans turned to screams, her body convulsing as she ca, her release triggering his own. Together, they rode out the wave of pleasure, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling. They lay there, their bodies slick with sweat , basking in the afterglow of their shared ecstasy, feeling a deep connection that went beyond re physical pleasure. Cleora whispered softly, "I love you," as Jolthar held her close, knowing that this mont would be etched in their mories forever.
They stayed inside the chamber for the entire day, not even coming out to eat or anything. Jolthar didn’t let her, as he satiated his lust of six months, and Cleora was already a willing participant in their passionate embrace.
By the afternoon, Cleora had begged him to let her go. She told him that she was too sore to even move, but Jolthar refused, wanting to prolong their intimate mont as long as possible. Eventually, they erged from the chamber, both physically exhausted but emotionally fulfilled.
Nora didn’t even look at her mother for that entire day, feeling a lot more embarrassed than she thought while Jolthar was keeping a smug face in front of Raelyna, glancing at limping Cleora.
-
The next morning found Jolthar at Nora’s inn, enjoying a simple breakfast and the comfortable familiarity of the food back in his world.
Nora had really done herself; she was able to make the sa dishes, and the taste was much better than he had tasted. He was glad that he was able to et her.
On the table, in front of him, there was at of goat, roasted with oils and spices she prepared. Jolthar was savoring every bite of the piece of at.
He was sitting on the top floor, giving him a view of the square through the glass window. The barony town was no more; now it looked close to a tropolitan city with a lot of trade and comrce.
He was happy that during his absence they were able to finish the construction of Forge and the city.
Right now, Nora was downstairs, prepping for the day along with other servants. Jeanne was also working in the restaurant down below.
While he was eating, he heard the little voice of the girl.
Mira bounced into the room, climbing into the chair beside him with the easy affection of a little sister.
"Did you make sothing pretty for Cleora?" she asked, reaching for a piece of bread from his plate. "Mama says when boys like girls, they make them presents."
Everybody in the town knows by now that Jolthar was their lord and Cleora was his woman, and so does the little girl, too.
"Your mama is very smart," Jolthar agreed, ruffling her hair.
"And yes, I gave sothing special to her."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of horses outside, followed by the asured footsteps of ard n. Jolthar looked out, and he could see a group of ard knights coming towards the restaurant.
Knitting his brows, Jolthar got up with Mira in his hands and made his way downstairs.
-
The door opened to admit a group of knights wearing the colours of the Empire—blue and gold tunics with the imperial eagle emblazoned on their chests.
Jolthar instantly recognized them by their clothing and sigil.
There were six of them, all looking tired from hard travelling through winter roads. Their leader was a grizzled captain with grey in his beard and the bearing of a man who had served in many campaigns.
"Good morning," the captain said politely to Nora, who had erged from the kitchen to greet the newcors.
"We’re looking for lodging and food for a few hours. We’re on imperial business, traveling to et with Baroness Cleora."
Nora nodded and began directing them to an empty table, but her eyes t Jolthar’s across the room. Both of them understood that military personnel traveling on imperial business in the depths of winter usually ant important news.
Jolthar listened to their quiet conversations as they ate, learning that they had ridden hard from the capital and that their ssage was urgent. When they finished their al and prepared to continue to the mansion, he approached their leader.
"Captain, I’m Jolthar. I am the Lord of this barony. Perhaps I could accompany you to the mansion?"
The captain turned, giving the boy a quick glance—then a slower, sharper one. He took in the youthful face, the modest clothes, and the calm voice. Sothing didn’t quite add up.
"You’re The Jolthar of Barony Tekkora?" he asked, incredulous. His voice cracked slightly with surprise.
He’d heard of Jolthar—everyone had. Whispers in camps, taverns, and noble courts alike. So claid he was once a soldier in the barony’s army who’d climbed ranks through sheer skill and nerve, eventually becoming the favored companion—or lover—of the Baroness Cleora. Others said he was no soldier at all but a boy from the obscure Kaezhlar clan, seduced and elevated by Cleora’s ambition.
Most didn’t know the truth of his origins. Fewer still knew he was actually Kaezhlar. But one thing was widely agreed upon: Jolthar was the man who helped Cleora build this barony into what it was now—respected, feared, and rising.
What startled the captain most, though, was the youth standing before him. He expected a grizzled warrior or a weathered noble soaked in wealth and legend. Instead, he saw a boy—barely past his teens.
And this was the man who’d shaken the world of nobles and kings alike?
He didn’t know whether to bow, salute, or ask for proof.
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