The magician put up a stiffer resistance than expected, but Dwight had his ways.
"Watch him closely and don't let him escape. Remember, he's a mage — just keep him from recovering his magic power. A mage without magic is weaker than an ordinary man." Dwight instructed the two knights guarding the prisoner. "Make sure to douse him with cold water every so often. Don't let him sleep or meditate. Keep him stimulated and fully awake at all times."
Magic power was spiritual power! When a person's spiritual power was exhausted, the most common way to recover was sleep — and for mages, meditation. As long as he had no chance to replenish his spiritual power, the mage was nothing but a frail ordinary man.
Dwight then returned to his room. At the door, he ran into his loyal servant Mad and two other guards with ambiguous grins.
"What's wrong?" Dwight asked gently.
"Young master, everything's ready. Will you… go in now?" One guard smiled obsequiously.
Dwight frowned, not understanding their meaning. He waved them off and stepped inside, as the servants quickly closed the door behind him.
The cheap tavern had no luxury suites, but the room had been tidied up and was fairly clean. Dwight soon realized why his men had been grinning so strangely outside.
Inside, the long-legged girl sat tied to a chair, looking defeated. Her hands and feet were bound — not with ordinary rope, but rawhide, to make sure his master's fun wouldn't be interrupted.
As the little rascal stepped closer, Jolin finally felt real fear.
He looked very young… perhaps too young to do something terrible to her. But Jolin knew full well the effect she had on men.
Her real worry was not that he would lust after her, but that this young noble seemed far too young to be interested in women — which meant she could not use her greatest weapon.
She knew how deadly her looks were to men, and she had long used her fiery appearance as a tool. The Empire was full of adventure parties and mercenary groups, and her tiny, low-ranked team had stayed independent and intact only because Jolin knew how to use a woman's natural advantages.
When necessary, she did not mind suffering a small loss — but only in exchange for something worthwhile. The curved sword given to her by a mercenary captain obsessed with her, the mage she had just recruited… all had been drawn in by her looks.
At twenty years old, Jolin was a little fox of the wilderness. She could charm men who approached her with lustful intentions, while still protecting herself from real harm.
Recruiting a mage had been the proudest achievement of her short adventuring career. With a mage, her ragtag group's strength had jumped by at least two levels!
This trip south to Cote Province had been an escape. Not long ago, in the northern territories, she had seduced an amorous baron. He had been so bewitched that he gave her his family's heirloom — the enchanted leather armor — yet had barely laid a finger on her before she vanished.
Bad luck that she would run into trouble in the south! She had never expected to meet a noble with a large escort in this backwater, never expected him to openly flirt with her, and never expected her party — with a mage — to be defeated so easily.
Damn it! When that mage had been drooling over her, he had bragged about how powerful he was! In the end, he had been taken down by a child!
If only she had kept her temper… it had just been a whistle.
Perhaps she had grown too arrogant after recruiting the mage.
Looking at the teenage noble approaching her, Jolin sighed inwardly and made up her mind.
Fine. If he really wanted to… take advantage of her, she would just close her eyes and endure it.
What pained her far more were the three magical weapons in his hands! The curved sword was a gift from a mercenary captain, the armor from the foolish northern baron. Those she could accept.
But the anti-magic bow… it had been in her family for generations!
As the young noble stepped beside her and his hand reached toward her, Jolin steeled herself for sacrifice. She quickly wondered how to please him so he would let her go. Should she act terrified to feed his desire to conquer? Look pitiful to gain sympathy? Or be gentle and obedient?
Considering his age, Jolin decided to act innocent. A little shyness, a hint of fear, innocent eyes… that was what boys his age found most appealing. Maybe she could not only escape but even gain something from him.
Jolin began her performance. She closed her eyes, parted her lips slightly, and let her long eyelashes tremble, looking as scared and fragile as a little rabbit. Though twenty was a bit old to play the innocent girl, she doubted this boy had much experience with women. And with such a small escort, he was probably just a minor noble from the countryside.
Jolin was confident in her expression. She was sure he would soften, feel sympathy, or even desire her.
"Please… don't…" She let out a weak, well-timed whimper as his hand slid down her shoulder. Her body twisted slightly — a move she knew drove inexperienced boys wild.
His hands began unfastening the buckles on her armor and undoing the rawhide. The tight leather armor slipped off, revealing her upper body.
Jolin knew the appeal of her figure. Under the armor, she wore only a thin bandeau, her full chest standing proudly. She subtly pushed out her chest and peeked at him through half-open eyes.
His hands moved to her ribs, untying the ropes one by one. Jolin tensed. What would he do next? Grab her? Push her down? Touch her chest?
Amid her nervousness, she even felt a faint flutter. He was young, but not ugly…
Then Jolin suddenly noticed something was wrong.
It was too quiet.
His hands were steady, gentle and calm. Most importantly, as he removed her armor, he made no move to take advantage. Every movement was clean. Even when his fingers brushed her sensitive areas, his breathing did not falter.
Jolin finally opened her eyes, only to find the young noble standing before her — but her performance had been completely wasted. He was holding her leather armor, examining it with intense interest, not even glancing at her.
Damn it! Could he not see what she looked like? Jolin felt a surge of anger.
She pushed out her chest. Beneath the thin bandeau, her breasts rose and fell slightly. Her excitement caused a physical reaction, two faint outlines showing through the thin fabric.
With her bare, snowy shoulders and deep cleavage… was he not a man? Was he blind?
Jolin coughed softly, trying to catch his attention. It was no use. The young noble did not look up; he simply walked to a chair, sat down, and studied the armor quietly.
Jolin coughed again… louder and louder, until her throat hurt. She felt absurd. Was there something wrong with him?
He might be young, but he was old enough to understand these things!
Finally, just as Jolin was about to cough her throat raw…
"Does your throat hurt?" Dwight asked casually.
He finally looked up.
But in his eyes, she saw only amusement…