Milf harem of Serpent King

They sat. Tea was served. The social pleasantries were exchanged with the efficiency of people who knew they were all performing a ritual before getting to the actual purpose.

Lady Matilda looked at Jake with the directness of desperation.

"I’ll be blunt, Master Raikarndel. I want you to marry my daughter."

Jake kept his expression neutral, though internally he was recalibrating his assessment of this conversation. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"That’s certainly direct."

"I’m aware this is unusual. We haven’t been introduced socially, you don’t know my family, and there’s no courtship tradition between our houses."

Lady Matilda’s words came faster, her composure cracking at the edges.

"But I have wealth, a significant one at that. I can provide financial support to your endeavors, funding for whatever ventures you’re pursuing, and political backing from the merchant guilds where my family has influence."

Jake said nothing, waiting.

"And if coin isn’t sufficient—" Lady Matilda’s voice dropped and took on a desperate quality that made Jake’s face twitch involuntarily, "—I would offer myself as well. Whatever arrangement you prefer. Mother and daughter, just the daughter, just me. Whatever ensures my family’s protection."

Margeret looked at her mother, shocked as she was taken aback by her words.

The offer hung in the air like something toxic.

Margeret’s face had gone pale, her eyes still downcast, her whole body radiating the particular misery of someone who knew they were being bargained over and had no power to stop it.

"Why are you this desperate?" Jake asked quietly.

Lady Matilda took a shaking breath.

"There’s a young man. From your clan, actually—Raikarndel. His name is Kunther. He’s... decided he wants Margeret. For his collection, he calls it. He’s been pursuing her for months, and every time we refuse him he escalates. First it was gifts. Then public declarations. Now it’s threats against my business interests, intimidation of my household staff, and suggestions that if Margeret won’t come willingly, she’ll come another way."

"And nobody helps you because he’s Raikarndel," Jake said, understanding.

"Nobody helps us because he’s the descendant of Raikarndel and one of the thirty-six competing for patriarch," Lady Matilda corrected.

"He has resources, connections, and the protection of a great clan. I’m just a merchant family with money but no real power. If he decides to take Margeret, he’ll take her, and the city watch will find reasons to be looking elsewhere when it happens."

Jake looked at Margeret. She still hadn’t raised her eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked her directly.

Margeret’s head came up slowly. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry—she’d already cried all her tears, apparently, and now she was just exhausted.

"I want to not be a thing people collect," she said quietly.

"I want to make my own choices. I want—" Her voice broke slightly.

"I want this to stop."

The mother and daughter had been tormented enough by the young master of Raikarndel that they thought it was enough. The reputation of Kunther for being the most crazed mad dog was known throughout the city. He kills women for his pleasure and discards them when he is done with them. Seeing that he set his sights on her daughter, Matilda has decided to take any measure to protect her daughter and to escape the clutches of that man; she would jump into any hell.

Before coming here, she had inquired about Jake and how he had lived before, and knew that he was a womanizer, too. It was the reason for her proposal to offer herself. It wasn’t the usual way of asking things, but she thought it would entice Jake to help them.

The reason she had come to Jake was that no one dared to go against Raikarndel, even the 35 others. So she decided to gamble on Jake, the one who was rising slowly in the city.

"Kunther," Jake said, returning his attention to Lady Matilda.

"Tell me about him."

"Twenty-four years old. Class II, Talent Rank Two. He’s known for being vicious in duels, for enjoying the fear of people weaker than him, for having... tastes... that aren’t appropriate for polite conversation."

Lady Matilda’s hands clenched in her lap.

"He collects women the way some men collect art. Keeps them until he’s bored, then discards them. There are rumors about what happens to the ones who resist."

Jake sat back in his chair, his mind working through implications.

Kunther was one of his thirty-six competitors. One of the people he’d eventually have to deal with regardless. And if what Lady Matilda was saying was accurate, the man was exactly the kind of person Jake had spent his lifetimes learning to hate—powerful people who used that power to hurt those who couldn’t fight back.

"I’m not going to marry your daughter," Jake said.

Lady Matilda’s face fell.

"Then—"

"Not right now."

"But I will help you."

Jake’s voice carried the quiet certainty of a decision made.

"Not because of coin, not because of desperate offers I’m not going to accept. Because Kunther sounds like someone who needs to be taught that some people aren’t afraid of Raikarndel names."

Hope flickered in Lady Matilda’s eyes.

"You’ll protect her?"

"I’ll deal with Kunther directly."

Jake stood up as he spoke. "When he comes for Margeret again—and he will—you send word to Raaya Villa immediately. I’ll handle the rest."

Mother and daughter left the villa with more hope than they’d arrived with, and Jake stood in the sitting room thinking about arrogant young masters who thought power meant they could take whatever they wanted.

He’d dealt with that type before.

And he’d never particularly liked them.

Chelsea leaned against the doorway after the two women had left, watching Jake with narrowed eyes.

"You’re going to pick a fight with one of your competitors before the Trial even begins."

"Apparently."

"That’s tactically unwise."

"Probably," Jake admitted.

"But someone needs to stop him."

Chelsea studied him for a moment longer before a slow grin spread across her face.

"Oh, please," she said.

"You just want to help because the older one offered to sleep with you."

Jake nearly choked.

"I can’t deny that."

"Mhm." Chelsea nodded solemnly.

"A beautiful, desperate widow offers herself to my poor, innocent nephew, and suddenly he’s prepared to challenge a murderous young master. Truly heroic motivations."

"I was going to help before she said that."

"Which somehow makes it worse."

Jake rubbed at his forehead. "Can you be serious for once?"

"I am serious," Chelsea replied.

"I’m seriously wondering whether you were listening to the danger or imagining the mother naked."

"Aunt Chelsea."

"What? I’m just making observations."

Jake stared at her flatly while Chelsea fought—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Then her expression softened slightly.

"Just don’t die over this," she said. "And try not to start a clan war before the succession contest even begins."

"I’ll do my best."

Though judging by the thoughts already forming in his mind involving shadow serpents and Kunther’s kneecaps, his definition of "best" might not have aligned with hers.