I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Meanwhile back at Astoria, Blackthorn mansion loomed in silence, its grand halls lacking the bustle of servants and maids.

Lord Blackthorn sat in his couch, his eyes closed as he laid there in silence.

The sudden click of heels on marble broke the stillness. A lady strode towards the mansion, her emerald gown rustling softly with each step.

She paused at the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the empty chamber. The door was left open with no one coming or walking out. A frown creased her brow as she noted the unusual absence of staff.

'Where is everyone?' she wondered, her lips pressed into a thin line.

As her eyes fell upon Lord Blackthorn, she couldn't help but recoil slightly. His usual air of superiority had given way to something far more sinister. As he opened his eyes, a malevolent glint shone in them, and his lips were twisted into a sneer that sent a chill down her spine.

"Lord Blackthorn," she began, her voice steady despite the unease churning in her stomach.

Blackthorn replied, "Lady Cordelia? I saw your... invitation." He spat the last word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "I chose not to honor it. I am not some lapdog to be summoned at your whim."

Cordelia's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of the gravity of the information she carried. "My apologies, my lord. I meant no disrespect. I only wished for our meeting to be discreet, given the..... sensitive nature of what I have to share."

Blackthorn's eyes narrowed, a hint of curiosity appearing on his face. He gestured dismissively towards an ornate chair across from him. "Speak, then. I've dismissed all the servants in the mansion. We're quite alone."

As Cordelia settled into the chair, Blackthorn leaned forward, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Let me guess. You're here to secure some Thalens to support your husband's upcoming election bid?" His lips curled into a mocking smile. "Or perhaps you've come to beg for funding for another one of your insipid charity projects?"

"No, my lord," Cordelia replied, her tone clipped. "This concerns your wife, Matilda."

The change in Blackthorn was instantaneous. His body stiffened, and for a fleeting moment, a myriad of emotions flashed across his face – surprise, anger, and something that might have been concern.

But as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanished.

"Go on," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Cordelia hesitated, weighing her words carefully. "I've recently returned from the Trade Fest in Drakoria. While there, I... I encountered Matilda." She paused, gauging Blackthorn's reaction. "She wasn't alone. Zafron and Mara were with her."

'That bastard!'

Blackthorn's knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his chair, but he remained silent, his eyes boring into Cordelia.

She continued, her voice growing softer. "There's more, my lord. I also saw Gustavo there, but..." Cordelia's voice caught, genuine sorrow creeping into her tone. "It was too late. Zafron had already... he killed both Gustavo and Malachi."

The silence that followed was deafening. Blackthorn's face had turned ashen, his usual composure shattered. "Malachi?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You mean Zafron killed Malachi Vex?"

Cordelia nodded solemnly. "Yes, my lord. The very same."

Blackthorn abruptly stood, turning his back to Cordelia as he faced the window. His mind raced, grappling with the implications of this news.

'It's practically impossible for that boy to kill Malachi and Gustavo. He doesn't even have the courage to stand up to those men. That's just not possible.'

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. "Why didn't you lead with this information? Why all the cloak and dagger nonsense?"

"I... I wanted to ensure we wouldn't be overheard," Cordelia explained, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "There's a chance they might still be in Drakoria. When I last saw them, they were accompanied by a young noblewoman I didn't recognize."

Blackthorn's jaw clenched. He turned back to Cordelia, his face an unreadable mask. "You've delivered your message. Now go."

Cordelia rose, recognizing the dismissal for what it was. "Thank you for your time, Lord Blackthorn. I felt you needed to know."

As the door closed behind her, Blackthorn began to pace, his calm facade crumbling. His mind continued with questions and possibilities.

"How had Zafron managed to kill both Gustavo and Malachi? Gustavo has been a formidable warrior in his own right, and Malachi..."

"Ungrateful bastard," Blackthorn muttered, a mixture of anger and something akin to grief coloring his words. "He deserved what he got. But Gustavo..." He shook his head, genuine regret flashing across his features.

His thoughts turned to Matilda, his runaway wife. Why was she still with Zafron? What game was she playing? And Mara... Blackthorn's lip curled in disgust. "Simpering fool," he spat.

"Always trailing after men like a lovesick puppy,"

As the initial shock began to fade, Blackthorn's tactical mind took over. He strode to his desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. With quick, decisive strokes, he began to write.

"The bounty on Matilda's head needs to be increased," he murmured to himself. "Twenty thousand Thalens clearly wasn't enough to motivate the right people." His quill scratched across the parchment. "Fourty thousand. That should get some attention."

He paused, considering his next move. "And Zafron... he's gone too far this time." Blackthorn's eyes glittered with malice. "Fifty thousand Thalens. Dead or alive. Let's see how long he can run with that price on his head."

As he sealed the orders with his signet ring, Blackthorn's thoughts drifted back to Matilda. Despite everything, a part of him still cared for her, or whatever he felt for her.

"You've made your choice, my dear," he whispered to the empty room. "Now face the consequences."

*******

Meanwhile, outside the imposing gates of the Blackthorn estate, Cordelia climbed into her waiting cart with practiced grace.

She settled onto the plush seat, arranging her gown around her with meticulous care. As the driver prepared to depart, she cast one last glance at the looming mansion, its windows dark and forbidding against the twilight sky.

A smile slowly spread across Cordelia's face, transforming her features. The worried frown and nervous demeanor she had worn inside the mansion melted away, replaced by a look of fierce triumph. Her eyes glittered with a mixture of satisfaction and something darker.

As the cart began to move, jostling slightly on the uneven cobblestones, her mind began racing.

'Oh, Zafron,' she murmured, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. 'Did you really think you could kill my dear Malachi and simply walk away?' Her fingers clenched in her lap, knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. 'You all have always underestimated me, haven't you? Yes, you were a pretty boy, young blood, I got lost in the haze but that was all there was.

You could never match the affluence my dear vex brought to the table,'

Cordelia's gaze turned distant, a flicker of genuine grief passing over her features. 'Malachi, my love,' she whispered, her voice catching slightly. 'I couldn't save you, but I swear by all the gods, I will avenge you.'

Her expression hardened once more. 'I'm sorry, Matilda,' she continued, though there was little true remorse in her tone. 'You've been a good friend to me, but I have to do what needs to be done. You've made your choice, and now you'll face the consequences alongside that murderer.'

As the cart picked up speed, leaving the Blackthorn estate further behind, a cruel smile played at the corners of Cordelia's mouth. 'With Blackthorn on your tail, Zafron, your days are numbered. You may be clever, but you can't outrun the most powerful man in Astoria forever.'

She leaned back in her seat, a sense of satisfaction settling over her like a warm cloak. 'Revenge will be sweet,' Cordelia mused, her eyes gleaming in the fading light. 'And when it comes, I'll be there to watch you fall.'