THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Elder Scroll's grin widened imperceptibly as he observed the young De Gor. David was proving himself to be more than a mere survivor in the ruthless world of noble politics; he was a tactician, one who could navigate treacherous waters and bend even the darkest of circumstances to his will. The elder's thoughts flickered to the future, a myriad of possibilities unfolding in his mind. What could this boy become if he continued on this path of cunning and strength?

Lord Hilton's voice sliced through the silence like a blade, cold and resolute. "Wits demand action, and action demands strength," he declared, his penetrating gaze scrutinizing David with an intensity that would have unnerved lesser men.

But David stood his ground, his calm demeanour speaking volumes. The lord found himself begrudgingly impressed by his son's composure. "Hence, during the coming of age ceremony, you will prove your strength."

The words hung heavily in the air, the chamber thick with anticipation. David's expression remained impassive, though he could feel the eyes of every man and woman in the room boring into him, weighing his worth.

Lord Hilton's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile that did little to mask the gravity of his next command. "Do not worry, you are not required to do much," he continued, his voice deceptively light.

"Simply defeat all the contestants and emerge as the top to participate in the ceremony."

The tension in the chamber was palpable, the silence deafening as everyone absorbed the enormity of the challenge laid before David. Elder Scroll's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and excitement. This was no mere punishment—it was a test, a trial by fire. If David could surpass the Lord's demands, it would prove beyond doubt that he was more than just a noble scion.

The elder's mind whirred with the possibilities. Perhaps, if the boy truly excelled, he would extend a personal invitation for David to join the ranks of De Gor Le Rosa as an executioner, just like his elder brother. The thought of it sent a thrill down his spine. This boy might be the one to make the old bones rattle.

Lord Hilton's tone grew darker, more menacing, as he added, "If not… don't expect me to defend your actions from the other houses." The threat lingered, a promise of the storm that would descend should David fail.

David bowed, accepting the sentence without protest, a clear sign of his resolve. Both Lord Hilton and Elder Scroll exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgement of the boy's willingness to take responsibility for his actions—a trait not often seen in one so young.

Finally, Lord Hilton rose from his throne, his imposing figure towering over the chamber, casting long, ominous shadows. "This matter is resolved," he proclaimed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "But you have given me much to consider, David."

With a slight bow of his head, David acknowledged his father's words. Outwardly calm, he felt a flicker of triumph within. He had stood before the most powerful men in the realm, defended his actions, and emerged with a newfound respect—perhaps even fear—in their eyes.

As the council chamber began to empty, the heavy doors groaning as they swung open, Elder Scroll lingered, his sharp eyes never leaving David. The elder's thoughts raced. The boy was more than he seemed. More potential, more power, more of a future than anyone realized. He was dangerous—and in the elder's mind, that made him invaluable.

With the chamber now empty, save for David and the two women standing steadfastly by his side, silence descended once more. The weight of his actions and the consequences that would follow pressed down on him like a cloak of iron. But there was no hesitation in David's heart. He was ready—ready to face whatever challenges came next. Ready to prove that he was not just another noble's son, but a force to be reckoned with.

****

Several days after

The dimly lit stone corridors of the De Gor castle echoed with the quiet, measured footsteps of the guard as he made his way through the fortress. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the silence, the weight of his mission pressing heavily on his mind. His heart pounded in his chest, a stark contrast to the stoic demeanour he had maintained since the day he had sworn allegiance to the De Gor estate.

But now, as the tension in the air thickened, he couldn't help but feel an unshakable dread creeping up on him. Things were spiralling out of control, and the once unyielding resolve that had carried him through countless nights of duty was beginning to waver.

The guard, known only as Garrick among his peers, had wrestled with his fears and doubts in the solitude of his quarters. Night after sleepless night, he contemplated abandoning the mission altogether, fleeing back to the safety of his village where the only dangers were the wild beasts of the forest.

But the thought of escaping seemed laughable, a mere fantasy. The Fingers were involved, and everyone knew there was no escaping their reach. Even the deepest, darkest hole he could find would not shield him from their lethal grasp. His fate was sealed, intertwined with theirs, and there was no going back.

Gareth, the one who had led their group with an iron hand, was now missing. Disappeared without a trace, leaving behind a void of uncertainty and fear. The other companions, too, were nowhere to be found. Even the proxy leader, a man known for his calm under pressure, had received no word from the Fingers. The silence was deafening, each passing day without news a testament to the looming disaster. Garrick found himself considering the unthinkable—fleeing to the land of Neil. It was said to be a place where one could disappear, where the rules were different, and where a man could lose himself in the arms of a beautiful succubus, leaving the worries of the world behind.

But such dreams were just that—dreams. The reality was far bleaker. He only had four terran gold on him, a paltry sum that wouldn't even get him out of the empire's borders. The thought of betrayal crossed his mind more than once, cursing the nameless individuals who had commissioned this doomed mission. If only they had been more generous, if only they had provided a deposit, something to give him hope. But there was nothing, only the gnawing hunger of fear and the cold realization that he was trapped.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Garrick stood before a set of double oak doors, their surface intricately carved with the figures of two winged knights holding a sword together—a symbol of the De Gor family's strength and unity. His hand hesitated on the door's iron handle, a shiver running down his spine. He had been informed by one of the maids that a mysterious guest was currently occupying the dining room. This guest, the maid whispered with a mixture of fear and awe, was none other than the person his hidden comrades had been desperately seeking.

With a deep breath, Garrick pushed open the doors, stepping into the opulent dining room. The space was lavishly decorated, a stark contrast to the grim stone corridors outside. The room was filled with the soft glow of candlelight, the flames dancing in the polished silver chandeliers above. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of valor and conquest, while the long dining table was set with fine china and gleaming silverware.

But Garrick's attention was not on the grandeur of the room. His eyes fell immediately on the woman seated at the table, her presence commanding the space with an effortless grace. She was being served by the head maid, and the two of them were engaged in light conversation, their laughter a soft, melodious sound that seemed out of place in the current situation. Yet, despite the outward appearance of casual chatter, Garrick knew better. This was no ordinary guest.

Seated before him was Seraphina, the cunning seer, a woman whose reputation preceded her. Her beauty was ethereal, her features sharp yet delicate, like a blade hidden within a velvet sheath. But it wasn't her beauty that made Garrick's blood run cold—it was the knowledge that she was one of the Fingers. Her presence here, in the heart of the De Gor estate, was both a boon and a curse. On one hand, her involvement could mean that the mission would proceed smoothly, that their objectives could finally be met. On the other, it could signal the beginning of a far greater disaster, depending on the true reason behind her visit and the revelation of her identity to the family they were meant to destroy.

As he stood there, frozen in place, Garrick's mind raced with questions. Why had she come here? Why reveal herself now, of all times? And most importantly, what did this mean for the mission and for his own survival? He could only hope that her arrival would bring some clarity, that her involvement would tip the scales in their favour. But deep down, a part of him feared that this was just the beginning of a much darker turn of events, one that would see them all swallowed by the shadows that lurked in every corner of the De Gor estate.

Garrick's thoughts were interrupted as Seraphina's gaze flicked toward him, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. There was a knowing smile on her lips, one that sent a chill down his spine. She knew why he was here, knew everything about the mission, and perhaps even more. In that moment, Garrick realized that the game they were playing was far more dangerous than he had ever imagined. And as he stood there, under the weight of her gaze, he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever came next would be beyond his control.

The mission was no longer just about survival. It was about navigating the treacherous waters that Seraphina had brought with her, and finding a way to emerge on the other side with his life—and perhaps even his soul—intact.