The Sinful Young Master

The drake, now only yards away, spotted Jolthar, its gaze narrowing as it focused intently on this new figure blocking its path.

It let out an ear-splitting roar, its massive jaws parting to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth, and broke into a full charge, claws tearing up the earth beneath it.

The knights nearby shouted warnings, urging Jolthar to move to get to safety. But Jolthar did not move. His eyes remained fixed on the drake, his expression calm, unflinching.

With each pounding step, the drake drew closer. The ground seemed to tremble beneath its weight, and just as it lunged, ready to tear apart anything in its path, Jolthar acted.

With a swift, calculated leap, he launched himself into the air, his movements graceful yet powerful. As the drake's enormous bulk surged forward, Jolthar landed squarely on its back, his hands finding purchase along the ridged scales just behind its neck. The drake reared back in shock, bucking wildly as it tried to throw off the intruder.

The scene was chaotic.

The drake thrashed and spun, its entire body twisting in an attempt to dislodge Jolthar, who held on with a fierce tenacity. His muscles tensed as he gripped the drake, his legs straddling the creature's powerful shoulders to maintain balance.

Jolthar's hand, steady and sure, reached down, gently stroking the scales along its neck. His voice, low and soothing, was barely audible over the drake's snarls. "Easy now… easy…" he murmured, his tone calm and commanding.

Gradually, Jolthar's calm touch and quiet words had an effect.

The drake's violent movements began to slow, its snarls dwindling into deep, laboured breaths.

Jolthar continued to stroke its neck, his hand moving in slow, gentle motions, his presence exuding a sense of trust and authority. The beast, sensing Jolthar's calm demeanour, lowered its head slightly, the fury in its eyes dimming.

In mere moments, the scene transformed.

The drake, which had been a tempest of rage and destruction, now stood subdued under Jolthar's touch, its mighty chest heaving as it released a long, steady breath.

Knights and onlookers, who had anticipated a bloody end to the encounter, stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

This was no ordinary feat; it was as if Jolthar held an unspoken bond with the beast, a connection forged not through force but through mutual respect and understanding.

With one last pat on the drake's massive shoulder, Jolthar dismounted, landing lightly on the ground beside the now-calm creature. The drake shifted its weight, watching Jolthar with an almost docile curiosity, its fiery rage replaced by a sense of quiet acknowledgement.

As Jolthar straightened, the murmurs from the knights grew louder. Many had heard tales of tamers and riders, but never had they seen such a display firsthand. A beast as fierce as this drake called Maelruth the Bloodstorm, the most ferocious on their grounds, now stood calm as a lamb under Jolthar's touch.

Even the knights who had attempted to tame the drake in the past, knights who had years of experience and strength, had failed miserably, some even sustaining injuries in their futile attempts.

The drake was a gift from the Naemarys clan to Lorryll, and when he tried to tame it, the drake outright rejected him and didn't let anyone near. Ever since it had been confined in the pit, deemed untamable. Almost every child of the clan once tried to mount the drake, but it didn't let them near , its fiery eyes and sharp teeth deterring even the bravest of souls.

Maelruth the Bloodstorm, the name rung in the entire estate for days since its arrival.

Yet here it stood, subdued, its obedience earned not by chains or threats but by Jolthar's remarkable presence and his touch.

As the dust settled, one of the knights turned to his companion, disbelief still etched on his face. "Did you see that?" he whispered.

The other knight, still watching Jolthar, nodded slowly. "How in the heavens did he do that?"

Just moments before, the drake had been a vision of fury and menace, its entire body radiating a fierce, untamable rage. Its claws tore into the earth with a reckless ferocity, its powerful tail swiping the air like a whip, daring anyone to come near.

The sheer size of the drake drew every eye to it; its scales gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the colours of fire and shadows that rippled across its body as it moved. Those stationed around the estate's grounds had abandoned their posts, drawn by the beast's resounding roars.

The estate grounds, usually so tranquil, now buzzed with anxious energy as people pointed and whispered, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and dread.

The drake, still standing beside Jolthar, let out a low, rumbling purr—a sound no one in the estate had ever heard from it before. It was a sound of contentment, of trust.