I want his sword

As Jolthar returned to the mansion alongside Cleora and Nytheria, his mind filled with thoughts of the army at the border.

The situation with Chittera was delicate, and any rash decision could lead to unnecessary bloodshed.

Cleora had sent a trusted member of Cleora's council, a veteran with years of experience and the respect of the barony, as an envoy to the approaching army.

Now, all they could do was wait.

The mansion was unusually tense. Cleora moved swiftly through its halls, issuing orders to her household and ensuring the few soldiers they had were prepared for any outcome.

The truth was stark—her barony was wealthy but militarily weak. They had focused on trade and industry, which had brought prosperity but left them vulnerable.

The garrison consisted of only a handful of trained soldiers, with barely two knights among them. It was a sobering realization that, should Chittera's intentions turn hostile, their chances of defence were slim.