THE BARON OF THE COTTON FIELD

THE BARON OF THE COTTON FIELD

edurojaye85 · Ongoing · 83.1k Words

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Introduction

In a society where the strongest, bravest, and most brutal rose to power, everything came with a price. That price was loyalty, eternal service, obedience, and slavery to the one true master—the Overlord.

The Barons served him without question, ruling their towns in his name, clinging to privilege in exchange for survival. But Goshen was different. An independent cotton town, thriving and free, untouched by the Overlord’s shadow.

Until the Overlord demanded its fields.

When the Baron of Goshen refused, wrath descended. The Overlord slaughtered the people, burned the cotton to ash, and turned the land into a graveyard of smoke and silence, it became a Ghost Town.

By some cruel miracle, the Baron’s son, Widen Sawyer, survived. Stolen away by a ruthless Baroness who masked his bloodline and claimed him as her own, he grew in the midst of lies and ambition.

But Widen was not ordinary. He was one of the BLOODBORNS—rare beings blessed and cursed by ancient sorcerers with dangerous powers. Few walked the earth with such gifts, and fewer still survived long enough to master them.

Yet no mask can bury vengeance.

Widen lives for one purpose: to bring the Overlord to his knees and repay blood with blood.

Chapter 1

 🎵Somebody free me from these chains.

Somebody hold me; I'm losing my patience.

Somebody free me from these chains...

Free me, free me, I plead🎵

Her voice was soothing, haunting, and seductive. The kind of voice that made a man stop breathing just to hear better. It wasn't just music. It was pure magic. 

Every time I played the cassette she recorded for the bar, I felt lighter, happier, almost drunk on the sound alone and couldn't stop thinking about her.

She was the priceless jewel of Goshen town, modeled by the gods themselves. Her very presence made men lose their reason, and I was no exception.

Every evening, I found myself at the bar—drawn not just by the music, but by her. The way she moved to the rhythm was sinful. 

She was unique and I, Widen Sawyer, son of Baron Ziek, the Cotton Lord, wanted her. Not just her body, but her power, her mystery, and everything about her.

She wore her wealth like perfume—subtle but intoxicating. That smooth, fair and well poised skin spoke of privilege. She wasn't like the other girls I've met. 

But beneath all that beauty was something else.

Something I couldn't explain.

Sometimes when she smiled, it felt less like affection and more like she knew something the rest of us didn't.

But that night at the bar wasn't like the others. It was different, a bloody one, and the scar still followed.

Back then, before blood stained the cotton fields, Goshen was alive. It was 3012, the year of harvest and joy.

The streets of Goshen were always loud during this season.

Cotton wagons rolled past crowded market stalls while merchants argued over prices loud enough to wake the dead.

Children chased each other between wagons loaded with cotton.

My father loved it.

He said the white fields made Goshen richer than the other territories under the Overlord.

It was our source of living and as an independent town that wasn't under the control of this Overlord, we lived well. 

The town was the most popular and vibrant, filled with the laughter of people, both young, old, women and men.

Their happiness made the town live longer, but who knew one day would be enough to destroy a whole town?

Just a day could ruin everything they have worked so hard for.

The first time I saw Yohanan wasn't at the bar.

It was in the cotton fields.

I held her cassette like my life depended on it while staying close to my mother.

"If the cotton dies, we starve." She said to the workers working endlessly in the fields. I didn't do much, I just followed her around that's when I saw her, an angel from afar.

Her shiny black hair swung down her back. I stood frozen.

When our eyes locked, she gave me a welcoming smile, a challenge, and a tease, and believe me, I was gone in a second.

I left my mother without a second thought.

I followed her carefully as she walked into the cottonfield. But when I reached the middle of the field, she had vanished. My pulse raced. Was it a game? A trap? Either way, I was all in.

Then I heard her speak.

"Hide or seek?" she asked.

I grinned. "Don't play games with me, baby. We're too old for that."

"Oh, cotton boy," she whispered, "hide or seek?"

My head spun.

"I'm not here for games, angel. But if you want to play…" I bit my lip, my heart kept on hammering. "Sure. I'll play."

"Hide or seek?" She whispered.

"Seek," I said.

"Try to find me."

A twig snapped, and I turned.

Her veil danced in the wind. I followed, drunk and hypnotized by lust and curiosity. Twigs scraped my arms and legs, but I didn't care. I would bleed for this girl.

And then, there she was. I caught her right in my arms.

"You found me," she smiled.

"Of course. I've grown up in these fields. I know them like my own skin," my breath brushed against her ear. She shivered like a little child and I loved that.

"Hide-and-seek," she whispered back.

God, please, no more of that. I pleaded in my thoughts. 

"No, please. Forgive my manners, I'm Widen, son of....."

"Baron Ziek. The Cotton Lord." She interrupted.

She knew me too well and not only her, everyone in the town knew me.

"Everyone knows the baron's son, the golden boy who chases skirts and breaks hearts, the playboy." She scoffed.

I chuckled, she caught me. I was a wild predator, and my rod was my weapon.

I leaned in and spoke slowly.

"I've changed.Tell me what you want and I'll place it at your feet. Jewels? Horses? A villa with fountains? A land, name it."

She raised a brow, unimpressed. "Meet me at the Juke tonight." She kissed my cheek and walked away, as she moved I couldn't take my eyes off her hips.

Even the workers stopped when Yohanan walked past, no one spoke, they only stared.

"Can I get a name?" I called after her.

"Yohanan," she whispered.

Her name echoed in my head like a song I couldn't stop humming. What has she done to me?

Just as I was admiring her fading silhouette, I felt a sharp knock on my head.

"Mother!" I yelped.

She was the only one who had my button.

She glared. "Are you here to chase women or gather cotton? We have guests tonight."

"Sorry, Mother," I muttered, my cheeks burned red.

We finished harvesting and made our way to the Fortress.

I spent the entire walk home thinking about Yohanan.

The sun was merciless, my skin screamed and begged for shade. Just as we were dropping off the cotton, we halted and could hear a heated argument from inside the fortress.  

"Stay here," Mother ordered, her tone was sharp.

I leaned toward the door and Father's voice echoed throughout the whole place.

"I will not hand over the blood, sweat and tears of my fathers! My family depends on this land, not just them but the whole town. It is our legacy! and I will never give that away."

The man he argued with replied, his tone venomous.

"How dare you defy the Lord? The lord over other lords and the supreme ruler of the six towns."

"I don't care, this is an independent town and I do not take any orders from your damn Overlord." Father snapped.

"You've had your chance. Next time, we won't be so kind, so think wisely… if you love your family and this pretty little town." The man screamed.

"You can do nothing," Father growled.

Suddenly, the door swung open—slamming into my poor nose, I was scared it might have been broken. I gasped, holding my face as I saw a group of men walk past me like shadows of death.

I could feel there was trouble, but I stood there, silent, bleeding, and confused.

I ran inside and found mother gripping my father's arm.

"Father… what did they want?" I asked.

"They're just rebels, it's nothing to worry about," he said, his voice loud and firm.

"No, Father. That man… He threatened you, not just you but the whole town."

"It's nothing to worry about, Widen." He walked away.

"Mother?" I called in concern.

"You heard your father. "It's nothing," my mother replied and walked away.

But I knew better. I could feel darkness surrounding us. Still, since they assured me it was nothing to worry about, I tried to believe them but my mind betrayed me, thinking about Yohanan. 

Her voice, her touch, everything about her and tonight, we'd meet again.

The night tragedy struck, the night that changed everything forever.

I heard a knock on the door, I rushed towards it and opened just to see the same man who was arguing with my father.

He didn't leave. I hissed under my breath.

His scarred face twisted into a grin.

"Tell your father something for me, boy."

He stepped closer.

"The Overlord does not ask twice."

His eyes dropped to the blood running from my nose.

"And take care of that disgusting bloody nose."

Then he walked away.

I stood there frozen. For the first time in my life, I felt fear and confusion.

"Who the hell is the Overlord?"


ARCHIVE 0

"Every tragedy begins with an ordinary day.

The sun still rises, the birds still sing and life continues as it always has.

No one notices the end while it is still approaching.

By the time they do, all that remains are regrets."

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